Authors: Jay Korza
“Gear up?” she managed to whisper as
Davies let go of her fist.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to wake you for
almost a minute now. I was going to call sickbay in a second if you didn’t come
around.” He stepped back to allow her room to stand and added, “What were you
dreaming about, anyway? You were mumbling Mike’s name and something about him
screwing up. Hey, you’re not believing that stupid story we were fed about that
crash, are you?”
Daria sent Davies a glare that made him
take a step back and he knew that he had crossed an invisible but very definite
line. “What the hell is going on out there, anyway?” she managed as she
stumbled towards her gear locker.
“We’re on alert status one, and all base
personnel are to gear up and await orders. I guess this means that your leave
is terminated.” He looked at her with mournful eyes in an attempt to let her
know that he knew she would never believe that lame story about Mike.
“It’s about time something happened
around here,” she said with a smile. “I was getting bored of playing solitaire.
Let’s gear up and get this thing started.”
“Well, it’s about time Daria came back!”
Davies almost roared. “I was starting to miss that little hellfire around here.
Let’s go kick the ass of whoever just pissed us off”
Daria looked at her gear and wondered
what to take. She hated these general calls to gear up. You never knew where
you were going, so how the hell did they expect you to know what to take?
She grabbed her standard-issue marine assault
rifle, which was not so standard anymore. She had modified the grenade launcher
tube to accept high explosive willey-pete mortars. The mortars were usually
launched from a stable platform mounted to a vehicle’s deck plates. She reduced
the capacity from six grenades to two mortars but she tended to kill more
targets with one willey-pete round than most did with five or six grenades. She
had also shortened the length of the barrel for easier carrying with the rest
of her gear.
Although she usually spread the medical
gear out among the other platoon members to help with carrying it, she still
had her med pack that she always carried. A regular-sized rifle barrel always
seemed to snag on its front flap or some other part of the bag just when you
least expected or needed it to.
Grabbing her water recycler, she checked
to make sure that the filter was clean and had a good amount of life left in
it. Of course, she already knew that all her gear was in tiptop shape.
After Mike’s death, she did nothing but
take apart and clean all her gear every day for almost the first week. You never
wanted to go into the field unless you knew for sure that everything was
perfect. Something always went wrong, so it’s always best to try to reduce the
number of things that could go wrong.
She looked over her comlink and applied
it to her neck. This was the best gear improvement she had seen in more than ten
years. The new comlinks were a light titanium alloy about the size of a poker
chip and only about two times as thick. When placed up against the neck just
behind the ear, the wearer tripped a switch that activated an electrical
impulse, allowing the device to attach itself to the skin at the molecular
level. And the best part was it drew its energy from the bioelectricity created
by the soldier: as long as you were alive, so were your communications.
Once attached, you could set it to
different frequencies simply by rotating the outer ring until you got the
frequency you desired. One click for the whole platoon to hear, two clicks to
get a secure channel between you and any other marine within a twenty-meter
radius, three clicks for a secure link to the command center, and four clicks
to raise the transport ship. The device picked up the vibrations in the mastoid
process, the small bony prominence behind each ear, when you spoke and
transmitted it as sound. And for receiving, it similarly sent tiny vibrations
through the same bone and into the auditory canal for the brain to translate
into words. It was so much easier than fumbling with microphones or handheld
communicators. And unlike almost every other piece of military equipment
issued, it almost never broke down.
Switching her comlink on, Daria cycled
through a frequency test. Luckily, because she had received the message to gear
up about twenty minutes after everyone else, she didn’t have to wait for the
channels to clear up before doing the check. Sometimes you’d have to wait more
than five minutes for a freq check when several platoons were gearing up at the
same time, not to mention a base that held more than one hundred thousand
marines.
The last items Daria always packed were
her field and fighting knives. She first grabbed her field knife that had a
thick blade and a heavy handle. The handle had most of the checkering worn off
from years of use but Daria refused to replace the knife. It was her first
field knife and it had served her well. It had gouges in the sides of the blade
where she had used it to dig for water or pry open a door or any other number
of abuses that she dished out. This knife was placed in a holster on her left
thigh.
Then came the hard part—which fighting
knives to take? She loved them all, and each had a quality that made it unique
and deadly. Her first decision was on a combination knife that could also be
used for throwing. It was weighted well and had a thin blade, as all fighting
knives do, and a cord-wrapped handle. It had a bead-blasted flat black finish
and was razor sharp. She placed this one in a holster on her right calf. This
was primarily a backup weapon used as a last resort. It was best drawn from a
kneeling position which you were usually in when it came down to your last
resort, along with praying if you had the time.
Next, she took a handcrafted,
double-edged dagger from its place on the shelf and examined the blade. It was
also razor sharp and had serrated edges from the middle of the blade on both
sides that continued to the hilt. The razor sharp smooth edges on the upper
half were best for slicing and stabbing during a fight while the serrations
allowed for a jagged tear in one’s opponent after the sharp smooth blade
penetrated flesh or light body armor. This one was holstered horizontally on
her belt in the small of her back.
Lastly, she picked up her most prized
fighting knife that she carried on every mission. Mike had given it to her as a
birthday gift several years ago. It was made of a carbon polymer that was
stronger and lighter than titanium. It had no metal in it, so it was virtually
undetectable by weapon scanners. The blade was thin and double edged only at
the last inch towards the top of its full nine-inch length. The sides of the
blade had been polished with a laser during its creation and were smooth as
silk to the touch but completely non-reflective in any light. The edges were
laced with laser sharpened diamonds that could barely be seen but allowed the
weapon to cut through almost any body armor known and anything else that got in
the way of a knowledgeable operator such as Daria.
She drew the weapon from its sheath to
examine it for any flaws, which she knew there were none. Holding the weapon in
a reverse grip, she made small figure-eight motions with her wrist, practicing
a basic cut that was meant to sever the arteries and tendons in an opponent’s
outstretched arm. She quickly flipped the handle to put the blade in a forward
position and made small poaching jabs towards Davies. Knowing her
skill, he didn’t flinch at all but rather stood his ground, watching the master
go through her basic routines.
After a few more jabs and grip changes,
she placed the weapon back in its sheath and placed it on her right thigh next
to her sidearm. She looked Davies square in the eye. “I have something for you.”
It came almost as a whisper. She handed him one of Mike’s old bandannas. He
took it from her and realized that something was wrapped in it. He gently
unwrapped the cloth and a wave of emotion welled up from within.
“I can’t take this; it was Mike’s prized
possession.” Even as he spoke, he couldn’t take his eyes off the fighting knife
that was a twin to Daria’s own.
Although it was Mike who had taught
Daria how to fight, it was her natural ability and prowess as a hunter that
made her the master she was today and that had also allowed her to far surpass
Mike’s teachings.
“I already have one and there’s no one
else that Mike or I would rather want to use this weapon. Of course,” she added
with a wry little smile, “knowing how agile you are, I’ll probably be sewing a
finger back on you by the end of the day.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, almost
choking on his own words.
“Come on, marine, I’ve done enough crying
for the both of us in the past two weeks. So if you’ll just get your sorry ass
out of my way, we’ll get this show on the road!” She started past him toward
the hatch, but paused beside him and reached up with her hand to touch his
shoulder. With an almost unseen wink, she squeezed tightly and let go just as
fast and continued towards the assembly area.
With that, Davies took one more look at
Mike and Daria’s quarters and turned to follow her down the corridor.
Unbeknownst to him, that would be the last time Davies ever saw those quarters.
When they reached the assembly area five
minutes later, he was still looking at the knife in its sheath. When he finally
looked up, he saw the biggest FUBAR he had ever seen. As the old saying goes, “Idle
hands do the devil’s work” and so it was with this group.
Heated arguments had broken out here and
there, what with all the different special divisions so close to one another
and trying to out story tell each other. Claims of lies and other bantering
ended in yelling and MPs threatening the use of mild stunners to break things
up.
Everyone then stopped what they were
doing at once and stared blankly ahead at the podium. The 1MC had just come on
their comlinks and they listened to the base commander’s speech. To an onlooker
without a comlink, it would seem that thousands of people had suddenly become
zombies and were listening to a voice that only they could hear.
“Congratulations, everyone,” the voice
began in their heads, “you have assembled in record time. Very impressive for a
group this size. I am now, more than ever, certain that I have collected the
finest group of marines ever assembled under one command.
“I remember when I was a second lieutenant
and my CO loved to call the entire base for gear-up drills. I hated that SON OF
A BITCH!” his voice boomed at his podium. Luckily, comlinks are equipped with a
noise cancellation device that keeps the sounds entering the user’s head from
rising above a comfortable level.
“So I know,” he continued, “that when I
tell you this was just a drill, you’ll be swearing my name for days to come.
But that’s all right because I now know that I can count on my marines to get
the job done and I guarantee you that the next time you’re called to gear up,
you won’t be heading back to your quarters anytime soon.”
Low murmurs and whispers covered the
crowd with innuendos and personal translations of what each soldier thought the
base commander might be saying. Were they going to war soon? What wasn’t the corps
telling them about their current post? Why such a huge drill if nothing was
going to happen?
“Now, everyone return to your previous
duties. Fall out”, he concluded.
As the crowd started to disperse, Daria
began to bitch in the direction of Davies when they both went back into a blank
stare, listening to the same unseen voice.
“Attention all hands. Any marine who is
receiving this transmission is to report to Building 25, Area 0106 immediately
and without discussion to anyone. Move out!”
Although you couldn’t hear the raised
voice of a barked order through the comlink, there was a certain inflection in
the tone that you just knew meant someone had yelled it. The two friends looked
at each other and started towards the rendezvous point.
“What the hell is this?” Daria asked as
she simultaneously received a warning shock of electricity in her skull.
Apparently they had meant it when they said not to talk to anyone because the
links were command set to “feedback.” This setting sent a mild shock through
the skull when it sensed that the wearer was talking, and in this way the
command center on any mission could strictly enforce noise discipline for their
troops if they couldn’t do it on their own. No talking to anyone, or the shocks
increased in intensity with each time you broke the silence.
Well, she’d just have to wait and see
what was going on like everyone else, she thought. As she proceeded, she
noticed other marines flinching slightly and touching the spot behind their own
ears where the comlink sat. At least she wasn’t the only one, she thought with
a smile. The feature was so rarely used that apparently many of the soldiers
had forgotten that it existed.
Unbeknownst to Daria and the rest of her
group, every marine who had been assembled was being directed to a different
portion of the base. In all, there were a total of three hundred and
seventy-eight groups of marines sequestered from one another. The gathering was
a ruse planned to make each individual group of marines think that they were
the only ones being secretly deployed.
Daria’s group entered Building 25 en
masse and grouped together in Area 0106. As the last marine entered the area,
the great doors at the rear of the room sealed. The comlinks were turned off
and a colonel began speaking directly to the assorted two hundred marines now
gathered before him. Some jaws went slack and some eyes almost jumped out of
the heads they sat in while the colonel spoke. Most couldn’t believe what she
was saying. A babysitting job! Going beyond the edge of the known galaxy to
babysit a bunch of scientists and archeologists on a newly discovered planet!