Tasha stood in the narrow corridor outside of the ship’s briefing room and swallowed nervously.  She still had nightmares, and now her lack of sleep was beginning to be reflected by the dark circles that were beginning to form under her eyes.  All of the recent changes in her life didn’t help matters.  She found herself in a new unit, on a new ship, and with new comrades hunting down the same ship that had killed the Pripyat and forced her to play dead in the cold expanse of space.  Though her fellow Talons, at least most of them, had tried to go out of their way to make her feel a part of the team, there were a few raised eyebrows when she was hired at the rank of Lieutenant Commander, in charge of ship’s communications and sensors.  Of course, a couple of the communications officers were a little disgruntled, thinking they might very well have earned a promotion, only to be put under Tasha’s command.  Now, she had been called to the briefing room, and she didn’t know why.  Satisfied that her nerves had settled a little, she took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders.  Pressing the button on the door control to open it, she stepped through the door and looked around.

The briefing room was set up with tiered, theater style seating facing the front of the room where a podium stood.  Behind the podium, a large display was built into the wall.  Unlike most computer displays, the display on the wall was not holographic, but was rather made of more durable construction, a common design practice that can be found on most, if not all, purely combat ships.  In addition to the display built into the wall in the front of the room, each seat facing the podium also had a small display in which they could view briefing materials to read it in more detail, if needed.  The briefing room was large enough to accommodate a squad of Marines, which was all the ship could comfortably house, along with any supplies and equipment that may be needed.

Tasha saw four Talon Marines wearing their olive drab garrison utilities, with the letters T.M.C. stenciled above their left shirt pocket, already seated.  Two Marines sat in the front row, and two more sat in the second row.  One of the Marines in the front row, a sandy haired, blue eyed man, wore the chevrons of a Corporal.  The Marine next to the Corporal was turned around in his seat, trying to land a friendly punch on his buddy sitting directly behind him.

“Hey, cut it out, I just asked a question!” The Marine being hit complained as he fended off the blow.  Next to the man in the back row was one of the biggest Marines Tasha had ever seen.  He looked uncomfortable sitting there as his legs barely fitting under the counter his display was mounted on in front of him. The name “Grobnak” was stenciled on a patch on his shirt.

“It was a dumb question, Delgato.” Grobnak growled, not making a move to help or hinder the exchange.  “Of course we’re here for a mission.”  Grobnak’s expression was neither angry nor happy, and Tasha half suspected that Grobnak said everything in a growl.  Scowling at Grobnak and then at the Marine in front of him, Delgato muttered something in Spanish under his breath.

Taking a closer look, Tasha caught sight of his unit patch on the shoulder of one of the Marines.  The patch was a silhouette of a Marine in full powered armor jumping into the flames depicted at the bottom of the circular patch.  Along the red bordered edge of the patch she could barely make out the word “Helljumpers.”   The presence of the Marines puzzled her.  If she were in trouble, surely they wouldn’t be sitting at ease here in the briefing room, and didn’t that big Marine just say something about a mission?

As Tasha continued to imagine why she might be there, the door across from the briefing room entrance opened to emit Commander Schultz.  The door was dubbed the “commander’s door” because it adjoined the officers’ briefing room.  Tasha smiled briefly as she caught sight of Colonel Bakore through the open door, leaning back in his seat at the head of the table in the officers’ briefing room with fingers interlocked behind his head, eyes closed as he was taking a deep draw on what she assumed to be a fine grade cigar in his mouth.  Then, as the commander’s door closed, her attention turned towards Commander Schultz, who walked to the podium.  Realizing the Marines were all standing at attention, she stiffened her posture to attention as well.  Pay attention, Tasha! She thought.  Commander Schultz waved his hand dismissively.

“As you were.” Nathan rumbled as he flicked on the display built into the top of the podium and worked at bringing up some files.  He read the documents on his screen for a few moments before leveling his gaze at the room’s occupants.  Deftly manipulating his touch screen, on the podium, he brought the display behind him to life.  On the display, everyone could see a dossier labeled “R.E.S. Choyo.”  The dossier showed the profile of a Rejaian Navy Supply Ship.  Statistics could be seen below the profile.  It was capable of carrying out multiple mission roles.  It could be a simple cargo hauler, or it could convert some of its cargo bays into a barracks, becoming a troop ship capable of carrying an entire battalion, and the supplies typically needed by a battalion, such as food, ammo, and medical supplies.  If necessary, it could fulfill a bit of both roles simultaneously by simply converting as many cargo bays to barracks as needed, and leaving other cargo bays to fulfill its original purpose.  Tasha recognized the ship type, as did one of the Talon Marines as he rumbled something about “sardines in a can.”  Commander Schultz nodded in acknowledgement to the Marine’s observation.

“As you know, Colonel Bakore just returned yesterday after poking his nose around in the station and asking some questions.” Commander Schultz began.  A couple of the Marines stifled snickers, and even Tasha had to smile.  Everyone knew when the Colonel had returned.  His horrible howls that passed as singing reverberated throughout the command deck.  His voice could even be heard in select rooms on the decks above and below the command deck, thanks to ducts that served as channels down which the Colonel’s horridly botched rendition of the Gadari Marine Core Anthem echoed.  It was the first time anyone ever remembered seeing their Company Commander drunk, much less heard him sing.  Most hoped to never to hear such howling again.

“What he learned was that the ship we are after is the Guan Yu.  We suspect that it docks here and exchanges goods with this ship, the Choyo, which is currently docked.” Commander Schultz indicated the display behind him.  Tasha raised an eyebrow as the indications of what Commander Schultz had said began to register.  R.E.S. stood for “Rejai Empire Ship,” a naming standard for ships bearing military personnel that had been in place since the days of ancient earth, before its destruction.  A naval ship bearing military personnel was always preceded with a two or three letter acronym that typically indicated its affiliation.  Thus G.R.S. stood for “Gadari Republic Ship”, and M.F.S.  was “Multani Federation Ship.”

“What we don’t know,” Commander Schultz continued, “is what the Rejai Empire is doing out here, and why they are supplying a ship that is actively destroying targets of opportunity in this area.” A look of disgust crossed Commander Schultz’s face as he flicked up another document on the display, which provided a detailed schematic for several of Choyo’s decks. “What we do know is that the Choyo has the information we are looking for, so we are going to go in and get it.”  Tasha blinked in surprise.  According to the PMC Accord, any PMC boarding a naval ship in a hostile action while under contract to another empire was considered an act of war.  Unless specifically ordered to, under terms of their contract, most PMC’s would actively avoid such overt hostile actions, but Commander Schultz had just proposed to do just that, as if it were standard operating procedure.  Tasha also noted that the Marines were stone-faced, and didn’t seem surprised at all, but then again they were Marines, trained in the tradition of one of the finest military forces in history.  She had the distinct feeling that if the Commander had said they would be trying to extinguish the fires of hell with a bucket of water, they would wear those same expressions, and expect that they would succeed, simply because they were Marines.  Not for the first time, Tasha wondered if she was a bit out of her league.

“In order to go in and get this data, there are two possible points of entry.  One point of entry would have been to dress up as station maintenance workers and go in the front door, but we felt it would have been too risky should we be caught at the entrance.  The second is here.” Commander Schultz said, as he used a laser pointer to point at a section of the Choyo’s starboard hull.

“There is an emergency hatch that can be found on the starboard side of the ship, towards the bottom, which also happens to be facing away from the gantry that extends to the ship.  As with most emergency hatches, this one can be accessed externally as well as internally, with a little convincing.” A feral grin spread across Commander Schultz’s face as he acknowledged the Marines. “That’s where you come in.”  The Corporal sitting in the front row nodded.

“Corporal Wittaker, you and your fire team will accompany us to the starboard, ventral emergency hatch and secure an entry point, after which all members of the team will make their way here.” Commander Schultz indicated a room on one of the other schematics that provided the layout of a deck two decks above the point of entry.  On the schematic, a room blinked a bright orange.  Tasha could see that a corridor ran by the blinking room on the schematic, and then both ends turned towards the front of the ship.

“This is the room where the secondary server room is located, and where a backup of all the ship’s data is kept.  We believe that this will have less security than the room housing the ship’s primary computer core, and therefore might be easier to gain access to.  As you can see, both ends of the corridor turn towards the front of the ship, and will have to be secured, as they are our only means of exit. ”  Commander Schultz looked towards Tasha.  She had a feeling she knew what was coming next.

“Once we get there, that is where you come in.” Commander Schultz said, eyeing Tasha.  The Marines, as one, turned to glance her way.  “With your background in cryptology and cryptanalysis, you are the best equipped to bypass whatever security they have, and retrieve their ship’s manifest, captain’s log, communications logs, sensor logs, and any other useful information you can safely extract before egress.”  Tasha’s eyes focused on her personal display and pretended to read a random document she had pulled up.  She didn’t want anyone to see the fear that must be in her eyes.  She had never been on a ground mission before, much less in a situation where she might have to fight her way out.  It was then that she really began to pay attention to the file she had randomly opened.  Her face grew hot and turned red as she closed and deleted the file, quickly looking around to see if anyone had noticed.  Thankfully, no one had.  In her rush to open a file and look preoccupied, she had inadvertently opened an advertisement in her inbox, and no, she did not need penile enlargement.

“Okay, points of egress.” Commander Schultz continued, intruding upon Tasha’s embarrassment. “You have two primary options: From whence you came, or these other emergency hatches.  As a last resort, make a hole.”  Corporal Wittaker nodded in understanding.  If all else failed, they would use explosives to make another exit anywhere they could gain access to a room located near the ship’s outer hull.  Most modern ships, and all naval ships, were double-hulled, but Talon Marines always carried two of what they called “boom sticks,” which was a piece of equipment that could attach to a surface, and then penetrated the surface with a hollow cylinder packed with explosives.  Once the cylinder penetrated the surface, the explosive, which was a shaped charge, would go off creating a four foot opening.  Two of them penetrated both hulls in a matter of thirty to forty-five seconds.  Of course, in a pinch the Boom Sticks could also be modified with a time delay, and the cylinder penetration disabled, making for a useful, time-delayed wall mine.

“Any questions?” the Commander asked, though his face indicated he expected none.  After a few silent moments, he nodded. “Then you are dismissed.  We will be leaving in an hour.”  The Marines stood as one and made their way out of the door.  As Tasha stood to follow them out, her progress was arrested by the Commander’s voice asking her to stay, so she sat back down.  With the briefing room empty, Commander Schultz came from behind the podium to lean against one of the seats.

“If you’re not ready, I can get SRA3 Hodges.” Commander Schultz offered.  “I know you still aren’t sleeping well.”  Tasha considered the Commander’s statement for a moment, and nearly agreed.  God knows she would love to stay behind, but she shook her head.

 “Nyet. I go.” was all Tasha said.  Commander Schultz studied Tasha’s face again, and then nodded, as if pleased with what he saw.  Squeezing her shoulder, the Commander stood up.

“Then you are dismissed, Lieutenant Commander.  You need to go to the supply room for body armor, a communications pack, and a Magauss.” Commander Schultz ordered sternly.  Standing to her feet, Tasha smartly saluted the Commander, and left after his acknowledging salute.

***

Tasha checked the action of her Magauss, though it wasn’t with the same practiced ease that the Marines had when they checked their own weapons.  After all, she had never been in combat, and only fired the Magauss when it came time for her to requalify.  The Magauss .45 Caliber pistol, commonly called a ‘Mags’ pistol, is the sidearm of choice for the Talon Marines.  While it only allows for ten shots per ammo pack, the fact that it can be adjusted to incapacitate rather than to kill allows for a great deal of versatility not usually found in Talon Marine weaponry.  Mankind had long since left behind the old gunpowder days, and had graduated to other, more efficient means of killing and incapacitating others.  Typically, weapons take the form of rail guns, lasers, and so on, but in reality the number of different weapons available were as varied as there were ideas on how to build them.  The Mags was basically a vastly miniaturized version of a rail gun, and its power packs consisted of ten oval-shaped projectiles, as well as the energy cells needed to power those ten projectiles.  While the energy cell is typically never completely spent once the ten shots are expended, the ammo pack is still ejected and a fresh one inserted.  Making the energy and ammo a part of the same pack made using the pistol easier.  No one wants to worry about whether or not they have enough juice in their energy cells to power the projectiles in the middle of a firefight.

The light body armor she wore was heavier than expected, but its weight felt comforting.  She had never had to wear body armor before, and started sweating as soon as she had it all on until she plugged the armor into the small power pack that was in a fabric pouch strapped to her leg.  That power pack would supply power to her armor, and later to her helmet, once she plugged it in.  One of the most important components to combat armor was the armor’s climate control system, which immediately kicked in once power was being fed to it, cooling her.  The vest alone easily weighed around 4 kilos.  In all, the armor weighed about 9 kilos.

The Marines were going through the process of checking their subrail guns, which were the successor to the submachine gun of centuries past.  Still propelled by rail technology, subrail guns had a faster firing rate than that of their ancient counterparts, submachine guns, and a greater range.  However, subrail guns were still built to be silent.  Often, when firing subrail guns, the loudest sound was the action of the gun cycling.  Laser sights built into the barrel, rather being an attachment, allowed a Marine to quickly point their weapon at a target and fire from the hip accurately, without having to aim using the sights.

The Marines looked quite comfortable in their heavier, and bulkier, combat armor.  Though not as heavy as the powered armor the Marines usually wore on a mission, their combat armor still provided some protection against most hand held weapons.  Though the armor itself weighed around twenty kilos, the training Talon Marines had to endure required them to run several kilometers whilst wearing combat armor, along with a full pack, adding another 20 kilos.  After their run, they would then be required to engage in a series of war games.  Talon Marines in their armor, particularly their powered armor, were both feared and respected.  Of course, powered armor was easier to get into, because you simply climbed into it from the back, and then it closed in on you, similar to the cockpit hatch of a fighter.  Combat armor had to be put on, piece by piece, and latched or cinched into place, depending on the kind of armor it was, so that it did not come undone in the heat of combat.

As Nathan watched his team making final checks on their weapons with an expert eye, he absently checked his own Mags, making sure the safety was on, the chamber was empty, and the action was cleared.  He grinned as he remembered his own training in Boot Camp.  It was twelve weeks of hell as he went through basic training, followed by another twenty-nine weeks of weapons training, and then finally an additional six months of being exposed to the most brutal conditions imaginable as the Republic Marine Corps subjected him and his fellow Marines to further training in how to operate and survive in a large variety of climates that may be encountered as they were sent to into combat on one planet after another.

Pulling on his combat helmet, Nathan plugged it into the rest of his combat armor’s system, and then adjusted his armor’s client control system to run a little cooler, as he was starting to sweat again.  The armor’s climate control systems provided him with protection from heat or cold by pumping heated or cooled liquid through many small tubes through his armor.  He always thought of circuitry on a microchip when he thought of the heating and cooling system, because that is basically how it was designed.  It was embedded into the armor, and engineered with the ability to intelligently reroute around damaged sections.  The power supply also powered his helmet’s communications system, and the heads-up holodisplay that projected itself on the inside of his helmet’s see-through visor.  The heads-up holodisplay was capable of projecting schematics, topographical maps, real time medical readouts of him and his team, as well as many other things that provided him with needed information.  Of course, his helmet’s communications suit was a little more complex, due to the fact that he was in a command position, as were the fire team leader’s communications suite.  Most communications suites were a little more limited, and incapable of seeing anyone’s real time medical readout other than their own.  Satisfied that his helmet’s systems had finished powering up, Nathan turned his attention to the others in his team, making sure their helmets were properly plugged in, and that their armor was properly latched into place.

“Alright.Let’s get to Cargo bay two.We’re boarding a gator, and then we’ll use the freight elevator there to exit the ship.” Commander Schultz ordered as he led the way out of the armory and into the hall.He was followed by PFC Grobnak and Lance Corporal Serms.Tasha found herself in the middle of the column, followed by PFC Delgato and Corporal Wittaker as they trooped down to the cargo bays.A few minutes later the team piled into a gator.A gator was a small armored ATV with two axles in the rear and one in the front.The back of the gator was armored and enclosed, with a bench on either side made to carry up to eight Marines and their gear.The Boatswain, satisfied everyone had settled, fired the engine to life and drove it onto the ship’s freight elevator.As the elevator reached the floor of Gitmos’ docks, the Gator’s engine roared off the elevator and made a beeline towards the huge cargo carrier on the far side of the docks, driving around the huge pylons that were a part of the ship slings in the dockyards.

Next Chapter: Chapter 6