Salvage Marines (Necrospace Book 1) (13 page)

Samuel walked down the hill as he thought of Mag. It was she, among many other Reapers, who had paid the price today for the administration’s insistence that a salvage team participate. When Samuel looked at the conflict in the terms laid out by Imago’s grim philosophy, it made perfect sense to have the Reapers present, as they, unlike the elite troopers, were trained to fight in such a way as to preserve the mission target. For the salvage marines, the purpose of any given mission was asset procurement or recovery. The marines used small caliber weapons, few explosives, and were trained to avoid causing unwarranted collateral damage.

Elite troopers had little concern for such things, and were more likely to destroy anything in their path rather than concern themselves with preserving buildings, hardware, or potential resources. In time, Mag would simply be logged in the loss category, and her life would be balanced against the net gains made by the corporation.

Samuel looked out over the battlefield, feeling as if he was seeing it with new eyes indeed. Many of the buildings had been spared destruction, as had most of the vespine gas reserves. The Helion forces were so soundly beaten that they’d left behind much of their own military and mining hardware, which would no doubt be considered an additional gain allocation on the final operation balance sheet.

When he looked at it from the perspective of the Bottom Line, Samuel could see that this had shaped up to be a very profitable venture and that the lives of the marines lost today would be considered a worthwhile expenditure in the course of conducting business in the sector. This battle was going to make an administrator’s career, thought Samuel as he watched the first of the Reaper breaker skiffs hitting atmosphere.

Samuel walked down the hill to join Ben and Patrick, who had been resting in the shade of a blasted out storefront near the edge of town, just beneath the hilltop. They had taken their helmets off, which was generally frowned upon as a breach of military discipline, especially since the fighting had not ended officially.

“Hyst, pull your squad together and converge on my waypoint. I’m uploading to your man’s rig now,” crackled the deep voice of Boss Marsters in Samuel’s com-bead. “There’s a problem with the turbines down there. Looks like a few hostiles got left behind when Helion pulled out. Double time it marines!”

“Takeda! Patrick! Get your helmets on!” shouted Samuel as he strode towards them, “We’re back online.”

Ben and Patrick appeared taken aback by Samuel’s commanding tone, though they did as they were told and donned their helmets. Ben left his heavy machine gun where it sat and hefted a Helion rail rifle.

Though it wasn’t protocol to use off-brand weapons, without the chance for a rest and refit, the marines used whatever tools they could to suit the job at hand. From what Samuel could see Ben had managed to figure out how to operate the rail rifle, no doubt from watching Imago and Costa Sagge.

“I’ve got the waypoint, looks like we’re only a few clicks away,” said Patrick as he started off at a run, followed by Samuel and Ben.

As they sprinted through the colony streets, Samuel was reminded of the brutal combat that had occurred there only hours before. Where there had once been a furious storm of smoke, gunfire, blood, and the roar of tank engines, now the streets were bustling with the busy work of salvage and repair. Samuel figured that if the pace of work stayed consistent, the colony would be cleaned up and back to optimal production within a few days. After a few weeks it would be as if there was no battle here at all.

Boss Marsters was waiting with his squad at the entrance to the turbine station. The squad leader nodded at Samuel and gave the signal to move out.

“Squad Ulanti is already inside, they’re pinned down by an unknown number of shooters. They’d send elites in there to root them out with seeker rounds, but the turbines are necessary for the vespine extraction,” said Boss Marsters as the two squads descended the stairs to the sound of sporadic gunfire from within the station, “We need to flank whoever is down there and get this fight finished without damaging the turbines.”

“Grotto can’t just buy some replacements? This colony is a big win, they’re gonna be swimming in cash once this place gets liquidated,” protested Ben as they crept through the half-light of the station, moving slowly down a series of hallways and empty monitoring rooms.

“The administrators want this place back up to full production as soon as possible, they’re only going to liquidate the salvaged Helion assets,” Boss Marsters replied as he continued onward. “Replacement turbines would delay the whole project by months.”

“We’re the cheaper option, brother,” said Samuel as he took point position from Ben, since his combat rifle was better suited to the close quarters gloom of the station.

The sound of gunfire continued to ring out, and finally Samuel was able to reach the end of the maze of halls and engineer compartments as the walkway opened up to reveal the primary turbine chambers.

From his vantage point, Samuel could see that Squad Ulanti had entered the building through the access tunnels in an attempt to infiltrate the building from the lowest point and clear their way upwards as was standard Reaper tactic. However, it appeared as if something had slowed their progress. They were holding position beneath a gigantic sump-water tank that was already riddled with bullet holes and leaking gallons of pressurized water across the base of the station. As he tried to get a clue as to what had them pinned down a whirring sound came from below as Samuel was joined by Ben and the rest of the marines.

“Mini-gun!” shouted Boss Marsters as he pushed Samuel and Ben to the side, shoving Jada back into the walkway, “Scatter!”

From somewhere below the weapon began spitting rounds at the newly arrived marines and the two old friends from Baen scampered to avoid being pulped by the salvo. The marines hurled themselves down the corrugated metal stairwell, tumbling a full flight down to the next level, well ahead of the bullets that chased them.

Samuel was dazed, but pushed himself to his feet and raised his combat rifle just in time to see a mech-warrior painted in Helion logos switching off its mini-gun and rotating the weapon arm to activate what appeared to be an infantry sized plasma-lance.

Ben roared and began firing his rail gun as he and Samuel rushed to get out of the enemy’s line of fire. Their only hope was to keep moving and use their superior mobility to out-flank the mech-warrior. The two marines had landed on the wrong side of the water container and were unable to use it for cover, so they ran past it, doing their best to dodge the high-pressure spray of the water as it poured from the rents in the container.

Ben’s rail-gun slammed enough bullets into the mech-warrior that it finally stumbled and was forced to readjust its aim as Samuel continued to cut to the right while Ben lunged left laying down suppressing fire. By then the rest of the marines above had begun to pour fire down on top of it.

The mech’s armor was strong, though enough projectiles slammed into it that the odd round was managing to damage the robust war machine. Ben’s weapon clicked empty and he kneeled behind cover to slot a fresh magazine, which seemed to be giving him some trouble, as the weapon, though powerful, was still unfamiliar. The mech-warrior’s off hand was outfitted with a basic combat rifle attachment, drum fed for continuous use, and the mech-warrior sprayed semi-automatic fire at the marines above as it turned the plasma-lance towards Samuel.

The marine had hoped to skirt the edge of the container and work his way around behind the mech-warrior, but as the plasma-lance fired, his world became one of steam and pain. The lance fired its bolt of super-heated plasma at the decking instead of the marine. The incredible heat from the shot had instantly turned hundreds of gallons of standing water and what still poured out of the container, into steam that expanded outwards like an explosion.

Samuel was knocked off of his feet by a surge of lethal steam that sent him into convulsions of pain. His Reaper environmental suit had kept him alive, even though many of the seams in the armor had been heated sufficiently to burn his skin. The marine blinked through the pain and did his best to scamper the rest of the way around the corner to get one of the massive turbines between him and the mechanized enemy.

Through the shouts and gunfire he could make out the voice of Lucinda Ulanti and Wynn Marsters in his com-bead shouting orders. He realized that the pinned down squad had used the steam explosion as a cover for maneuvering into a better position. The marines were engaging the mech-warrior from both sides. Now that the enemy was using a plasma-lance, the chance of damaging the turbines was dramatically high.

Samuel reached into his med-kit and snatched a stimulant vial, slotting it into his hypo and dosing himself into full alertness. He knew he was playing a dangerous game with the drugs, as the stim boost would only last for a few minutes before it began to slow his system down. The shot was designed to keep the victim from going into shock before gently easing them into unconsciousness.

Samuel got to his feet and began searching for a way to engage the mech. While the small arms fire from the marines would keep it busy, it was doubtful that they would be lucky enough to score a direct hit on the warrior’s weak-points before the war machine was able to inflict significant casualties. It was a miracle that Squad Ulanti was still at full strength. As Samuel took a moment to survey the battlefield, he could see that another squad of salvage marines, from what platoon he couldn’t tell in the gloom, had been killed to the last marine. They must have been the ones to send up the emergency call in the first place.

In all likelihood, the mech-warrior had fled the battle when the tide took a hard turn against Helion. When the enemy corporate forces had decided to back out of the fight, their various ships, tanks, and speeders had made their exits so swiftly that several pockets of enemy troops and vehicles were left behind by their comrades in the chaos. This mech-warrior was likely engaged against elites and was driven inside the turbine station, though once such a highly prized piece of salvage was in play the elites were pulled away from the engagement to be replaced by Reapers. Samuel gritted his teeth and silently raged at the callous indifference of the administration as he realized that the shift manager, or her superior, had made the decision to send in salvage marines, who carried no anti-armor weapons or demolitions, to engage the mech-warrior that they knew was inside. If management had sent in elites, who were equipped to deal with that class of hostile, then blame for the damaged turbines would fall squarely upon management. However, if the shift manager or her superior followed protocol, even though it flew in the face of real world events on the battlefield, and sent in the salvage marines, then there would be no blame to bear.

Samuel nodded his head grimly as he realized that management knew that the turbines were unlikely to escape this battle undamaged, but because they followed the rules of engagement their jobs would be secure. The balance sheet might have had a smaller profit margin for the loss of the turbines, but the report would be much cleaner and easier to file seamlessly without the black mark of allocated collateral damage.

If the salvage marines were sent to deal with the mech-warrior then the damage to the turbines would be written off as standard battle hazard, and all because of the way the conflict would look on the after-action report. Nowhere in any of those calculations would there be the consideration for the lives of the marines who were knowingly marched into that deathtrap by their leaders.

Imago’s words rattled around inside Samuel’s head as he crept towards the mech-warrior while it exchanged salvos with the marines who were now scattered around the station. It was all about the money, until you were in the fight, and then it was about your comrades, recalled Samuel as he watched his friends fighting hard against a superior foe.

The lights in the station were on emergency levels only, so much of the station was bathed in a murky darkness, temporarily lit by muzzle flashes and tracer fire as the combatants fought. It was in that moment that Samuel decided to let Grotto’s apparent policy of indifference work for him and his comrades.

“Tango Platoon, listen up!” Samuel shouted into his com-bead as he crawled up the service ladder of the turbine he’d been hiding behind. “I’m tracking critical turbine damage to Unit 12 and Unit 17 from gunfire, and the whole D Block looks like it might have shorted out after the hydro-container breach.”

“Prybar, I’m not seeing anything wrong on Unit 17,” responded Boss Ulanti from somewhere in the gloom. “What’s your position? What are you seeing?”

“I’m above it all, and I see everything,” replied Samuel, his voice taking a low tone of authority that surprised himself and the others, “The turbines are lost, so instead of getting killed trying to protect damaged goods, let’s get this fight over with.”

“Hyst, our mission is to preserve the turbines and from here I don’t see that any have been damaged!” snapped Boss Ulanti. “You’re stepping out of rank, soldier.”

“Lucinda, I’m seeing the problem too, Prybar is right, this place is lost,” piped up Boss Marsters from his vantage point at the top of the walkway. “We can use the turbines for cover once they are reclassified as scrap.”

“I don’t see anything, but it’s your call, Marsters,” snarled Boss Ulanti over the com-bead. “If management wants to hang someone out to dry, it won’t be me.”

“Copy that, Ulanti,” said Boss Marsters in a flat tone, and then he shouted, “Tango Platoon, you are now officially in a weapons free environment! Take cover when and where you choose. Stay scattered and draw his fire, eventually this guy is going to run out of ammunition, so all we have to do is keep him gunning without getting pasted.”

Now that they were free to engage the mech-warrior through the turbine columns the salvage marines had much more access to hard cover, in addition to better firing positions.

Samuel could tell that some of the new recruits from Squad Ulanti had been killed, as they did not join the rest of the marines in the surge forward. Somewhere out there in the darkness were more marine corpses to tally against the value of the turbines, thought Samuel as he fired several rounds down at the mech-warrior.

For four years now, he had fought and killed for Grotto Corporation, and though he’d always known in the back of his head that all of his actions and decisions carried a certain monetary value, it never really hit home as hard as it did today. It was as if took the battle for the turbine station combined with the Errolite mercenary’s recruitment speech to tear away the last scraps of the illusion he had been living.