Jupiter's Halo: Unbroken Page 6

  “Squad 1C1 and 1C2, accompanied by myself, will enter the primary bay while Lieutenant Mentrim leads 1C3 in via the secondary.”

  Lanad had walked back to the centre of the front row again where he paused momentarily, letting his gaze pass over the sergeants of his primary force.

  “Lieutenant Cassini and 1CR will hold in their Peregrine at the combat perimeter as our on-hand reserve force.”

  He continued his stroll as he moved onto the specifics of the briefing.

  “Our mission today is simple; we are to sweep the station with two objectives. The first is to ascertain the reason for the distress signal. Under the stations S.E.P. the substation should have disengaged and returned to Central Command, but the drone shots clearly show this is not the case, the signal could just be an error. If it’s not, we are to find out exactly what caused it as well as the reason the S.E.P. wasn’t followed. Our second objective…”

  He was interrupted by a hand raised at the back of the room.

  “Where do you want us Captain?”

  Aitkin held his face tight to prevent the smile inside from

  showing. It was Gunnery Sergeant Hinton asking the question.

  Any of the other sergeants would wait with patience, should their squad not have been mentioned, to find out what their role would be, especially when the captain was mid-flow.

  Not Hinton though, the man couldn’t imagine his skills and those of his squad mates wouldn’t be needed and he just didn’t possess the patience of the others. The stare he received from Lanad was cold.

  “The confines of the station and its cylindrical design render the long gun totally ineffective, Sergeant. You and your squad will not be needed on this particular outing.”

  He continued to hold the sergeants gaze, his tone serious and Aitkin found himself struggling not to smile at Hinton’s discomfort at the thought of being side lined, not to mention the clear displeasure he’d engendered in their captain with his interruption.

  “Lieutenant Aitkin will no doubt expect you to run full combat drills in our absence.”

  Hinton lowered his eyes, he couldn’t out stare Captain Lanad and to try would be a step over the line of insubordination that not even Hinton was arrogant enough to take.

  “To continue,” Lanad turned on his heel and began to make his way back along the line yet again, his voice returning to his usual pleasant tones immediately, as if his discourse with Hinton never even happened.

  “Our second objective is to retrieve any and all techs still aboard the station. Alive or dead, we are to return with them to the Pride for debrief and relocation…or repatriation. Whichever is required.”

  Lanad stopped at the centre of the front line again.

  “Make no mistake marines, we’re walking into the unknown on this one. We could be facing nothing more than a few confused techs and a lot of empty space, or we could be up against a pirate raiding party, maddened with junk in their veins and a taste for blood on their lips.”

  Lanad let his eyes sweep the room, pausing to make contact with a marine here, a sergeant there.

  “Whatever the situation, we will approach the station at combat readiness and you will safety your weapons only when I give the order to do so.”

  Lanad looked like he would lean nonchalantly on the lectern, were it still in place. His demeanour seemed to become more relaxed, although his body was still held standing tall.

  “Captain Timonny and 2C1 will be accompanying us, entering via the tertiary bay they are responsible for a sweep of the sub levels. His marines will provide additional fire support if required.” He threw a brief glance to Aitkin, “It is understood the sub levels are in total disuse so it’s likely the good Captain will simply be twiddling his thumbs while we do the real work.”

  There were smiles among the benches and on Aitkin’s face too. He had never explicitly shared his views on Timonny with Captain Lanad, but he suspected the captain held a similar opinion.

  As Imtel Johs had once put it, during one of their more private conversations, “The man might be a good Captain in the eyes of Command, but he’s just such an unbearable dick!”

  “Wheels up in thirty minutes. We’re going in hot so I want all squads combat prepped and ready for inspection in twenty.”

  Captain Lanad turned to his right addressing Lieutenant Mentrim, “Have I missed anything Lieutenant?” He asked.

  “Not that I can see Captain.” Mentrim replied smiling.

  “Very well then,” Lanad turned back to the assembled marines.

  “You have your orders. Dismissed.”

  As the squads stood from their benches and filed out of the hall Lanad turned his back on them and beckoned to his lieutenants.

  “I trust I can leave the inspection to you both?”

  “Yes Captain.” Mentrim replied automatically, a little too quickly. Lanad gave the man a sly look before turning his eyes on Aitkin.

  “Yes Captain.” Aitkin said. Lanad smiled broadly.

  “Very well then gentlemen, I will see you on the embarkation deck.”

  With that he strolled from the briefing hall, the men and women of First Company stepping aside to allow him through.

  Aitkin watched him go.

  “Ready for the fun packed thrill ride of sitting quietly in our drop ship for several hours sir?”

  Imtel Johs had left his seat and made his way to the front of the hall where Aitkin and Mentrim still stood.

  Aitkin sighed to himself, “Sergeant, what have we discussed in regards to thinking through what you say before you say it?”

  His tone was resigned and he could see the smile creeping across his fellow lieutenant’s face.

  Johs was well known for his tendency to make light of the duties accorded to the Reserve of First Company. It was only tolerated because of his martial skills and in part because of his attachment to Aitkin. It didn’t hurt that most of the time his comments were generally funny.

  “Ah yes sir, I remember now. We’re a reserved Reserve right?”

  His face took on the slightly strained look of one trying to recall a difficult lesson.

  “We’re to remain reserved while held in reserve, drawing on our reserves if necessary to reserve ourselves to a reserved life in the Reserve. That’s right isn’t it sir?”

  Somehow Johs managed to look serious and even slightly humble while he spoke, although Aitkin knew the man would be crying tears of laughter on the inside.

  “If you’ll excuse us Lieutenant.” Aitkin said to Mentrim, taking Johs by the elbow as he turned away from the First Lieutenant.

  “Of course Lieutenant,” Mentrim replied, still smiling.

  Aitkin walked Johs towards the exit of the hall.

  “How bloody long have you spent working on that one exactly?” He hissed as they walked.

  Johs shook his head slightly.

  “That? Right off the top of my head sir.”

  Now he was smiling and Aitkin couldn’t help but join him.

  “Of course it was.” He replied wryly.

  As they reached the doors he heard Lieutenant Mentrim call

  out to him. Both men turned together.

  “Be sure to enjoy your reservation as the reserved…erm…ah…that is the reserve reservation of ….er…”

  Mentrim faltered looking flushed.

  Aitkin didn’t have the heart to push him.

  “Thank you Lieutenant, we’ll be sure to do that.”

  They managed to round the corner out of sight of Mentrim without their shoulders shaking. In the light of the corridor Johs spoke up.

  “I might not be a lieutenant, but at least I’m funny.” He said, barely managing to keep the laugh from his words.

  Aitkin snorted as he tried to keep from joining in, drawing the attention of several marines still making their way from the briefing hall. He covered his mouth with his hand and quickened his pace to get away from them, as fast as dignity would allow.

  “Just shut up and keep wa
lking.” He said.

  “In a reserved manner sir?” Johs’ words came out as a strangled squeak.

  There were tears at the corners of his eyes. Ahead of them the trans-terminal waited, its private space calling invitingly. Aitkin approached it, almost running and panted “Open” as he reached the threshold.

  The doors slid open to admit the shaking pair and the moment they were closed the laughter burst from Aitkin in howls. Through the tears in his eyes he saw Johs sliding down the nearest wall, his arm across his chest as he gulped down air between the cackles and coughs.

  After a few moments Aitkin managed to regain enough composure to speak, “You’re a bloody bastard, you know that.” He said, wiping his eyes with another chuckle.

  Johs was sat on the floor, his back against the wall of the trans-terminal, his arms limp at his sides and his eyes glassy.

  “Is that reserved bastard of the Reserve sir? He said, smiling wanly.

  Aitkin returned the smile and shook his head.

  “Just shut up.”

  TEN

  They’d met at the Academy Deorum as children.

  At the age of seven Martian years Johs was already tall, although his body had not started to fill out and when Aitkin first saw him the long thin frame and outsized head put him in mind of child’s treat.

  The first time he called Imtel Johs ‘Lollipop’ the other boy had launched at him and borne him to the ground. Aitkin was almost a year older than Johs, but short for his age and stocky, where Johs was tall and thin. Aitkin was also the youngest of four brothers and the prospect of fighting a foe with a longer reach was nothing new to him.

  They’d rolled in the dirt of the exercise yard, both trying to push the other down and gain an advantage. The drill sergeant had let them fight for a time before intervening, striding over to where they tussled and grabbing both boys roughly.

  “Cadets, stand fast!” he bellowed, dragging them to their feet and holding them apart as they struggled pointlessly against his grip.

  Gunnery Sergeant Benton was his name, but before long Aitkin and Johs called him ‘Beans’ like everyone else in their academy class, although never in the Sergeant’s earshot.

  A boy in Aitkin’s class, Frivel, had unwisely asked the sergeant why he was called Beans and Benton had gripped his wrist so hard while explaining the respect of rank, that he’d broken it in two places.

  It was two days before Frivel returned from the infirmary and afterwards he never referred to Gunnery Sergeant Benton as anything but that.

  He’d gotten the nickname before their joining and Aitkin heard tell it was because he never ate anything but the plain white beans they served in the mess hall as a vitamin option to accompany the various protein blocks the cadets received in place of actual meat.

  Aitkin never saw the sergeant eat anything.

  They’d both stood there, dusty from head to toe, red faced and

  breathing heavily as Benton had lectured them on the bonds of brotherhood they would need to forge.

  Benton had a deep booming voice to go with his thick build and the dark beard that engulfed his chin and hid his neck from view. Aitkin thought he looked like a pirate from the old books his father had read to him.

  Terrifying as the Gunnery Sergeant could be though, he was plagued by a speech impediment. When calm his words were delivered in a deep baritone, each one clearly heard from a considerable distance. When he got angry or excited though, his tongue seemed to slip beyond his control and would stick between his teeth, occasionally producing a lisp that only got worse as his rage grew.

  As he held Aitkin and Johs in his iron grip the words spitting from his mouth started to take on a wet thickness.

  “Thiths boy will be your brother in arms.” Benton continued, shaking both boys by the shoulder to accentuate his point. Aitkin grinned, he couldn’t help it and as he looked across at Johs he could see the same smile painted across the other boy’s face.

  Gunnery Sergeant Benton seemed unaware of their mirth as he spoke louder to take in the watching cadets.

  “You may not like each other now, but you will learn to love each other as brotherths.” Aitkin’s shoulders began to shake.

  “You will have each otherths backths. You will defend the man next to you with your liveths!”

  Johs was looking straight down now and Aitkin could feel a tear tracing its way down his cheek. A muffled snort escaped his lips and he clamped his mouth shut.

  Over the sergeant’s thundering voice he could hear Johs’ breath wheezing as he struggled to keep his composure.

  “Thiths iths the mothst important lethsson you have to…what are you laughing at!”

  Aitkin couldn’t control himself any longer. A laugh burst from him and his legs folded as he gave up his composure. Johs had tears streaming down both cheeks and his laughter was loud and fast.

  Aitkin knew the punishment would be severe but he’d gone so far past the point of control he couldn’t stop himself. He was waiting for the shouting, waiting for Gunnery Sergeant Benton to scream into his face about duty and respect, lisping so hard in his anger Aitkin worried he might lose control of his bladder as well. He was hanging almost limp from the sergeant’s hand as was Johs.

  Aitkin tried to take back some control. He sucked in a series of deep breaths, but another giggle escaped him and the ridiculous sound of it forced him fully back into his fit.

  Gunnery Sergeant Benton had gone very quiet. His face was dark with anger, his cheeks red and his eyes almost shaking within their sockets as his whole body vibrated. Without a word he lifted both boys into the air and brought them together with a powerful crash of heads.

  The laughter stopped abruptly and the remaining cadets watched in silent fascination as he dropped the limp bodies back to the dusty ground.

  Johs had been in the infirmary for a full day, suffering with a concussion. Aitkin had not been quite so lucky. He’d taken a skull fracture from the connection with Johs’ over large head and it had been nearly a week before he was released back into training.

  On the second day he’d awoken to find the other boy sitting in a chair next to his bed. Aitkin groaned as the throbbing started up behind his eyes and reached up gingerly to feel the bandaging across his skull.

  “I wouldn’t do that.” Johs said, leaning in and gently pulling Aitkin’s hand away.

  “The medis’ said I broke your skull good and proper.”

  He grinned and rapped his own head lightly with his knuckles.

  “Having a big ol’ head is sometimes a good thing.”

  Johs’ smile was infectious and Aitkin found himself smiling back, despite the pain.

  Johs stretched out a hand to him.

  “The name’s Johs. Imtel Johs.”

  Aitkin took it after a moment of hesitation and shook.

  “Aitkin Cassini.” He replied, realising how hoarse his voice sounded.

  He looked around for water to soothe his dry throat. There was a white cup and clear jug on a shelf behind his bed. He reached up and realised it was further than he could manage without getting up.

  Aitkin tried to sit up against the pillows and fireworks went off behind his eyes. He retched and slumped back down as his vision swam in and out of focus.

  “I’ll just get that for you shall I?” Johs said, standing and lifting the jug to pour.

  He filled the cup halfway and placed it into Aitkin’s hand. He tilted the cup to his lips, spilling some of the water down his chin as it splashed against his lips. He was parched and soon the cup was empty.

  Aitkin let it drop on the sheets beside him.

  “They said I was lucky.” Johs carried on, “They said if it wasn’t for me hard head I’d be lying right there next to you.”

  He indicated the next bed along the row with a wave of his right hand while he rubbed at his forehead with his left.

  Aitkin could see the discolouration where the bruise was fading. It looked like it had been a good one. Aitkin’s eye
sight had settled and he could see his surroundings clearly so long as he didn’t move his head too quickly. He was in a long, low ceilinged room with beds spaced evenly along either side.

  There were small windows set into the top of each wall, the light they let in seemed little, but the stark whiteness of almost all the furniture reflected it making the place seem bright.

  There were other people in the room. A medi-tech was talking quietly with a young boy at the far end.

  The boy had both arms raised above him as he lay back in the bed, held steady by a metal framework so thin Aitkin wouldn’t have been able to see it but for the light reflecting from its polished surfaces.

  From this distance he couldn’t hear the words. Other beds were taken, not all of them, but Aitkin could see at least nine other occupants. Most of them seemed to be sleeping.

  “Old Beans gave us a good whack.” He said wincing as the pain spiked inside his head.

  “Too right he did,” Johs agreed, “But if someone was laughing at me like that I reckon I’d give him a good smack too.”

  Aitkin nodded. By the time Gunnery Sergeant Benton had thrown them together he’d been laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

  “Anyway, I can’t sit around here all day,” Johs said, rising from the chair, “Beans has got me on latrine duty and I swear it never ends.”

  He was wearing the loose fatigues all the cadets had been given when they were assigned their bunks and Aitkin could see the signs of Johs’ recent labour in the dark stains across his sleeves and chest.

  “I think that probably makes you the lucky one for now.” Johs said, walking away from the bed. Aitkin smiled again and let his head subside to the support of the firm pillow beneath him. Johs had reached the third bed down when Aitkin called out to him.

  “What do you mean for now?”

  Johs turned back to face him.

  “Beans said a few days in here would probably be punishment enough.”

  He grinned widely, that great big grin that Aitkin already knew would always bring a smile to his own face.

  “But then he said you’re a disrespectful little bastard and scrubbing a few latrines should really make the lesson stick.” He winked at Aitkin, “I’ll save you a brush.”