This had been a maintenance shed, or maybe a mechanic training shop once. Now it was a forgotten casualty of a war that had cost mankind everything except their tenuous existence. Jack moved around the building, looking for a way in.
The door was shut but unlocked. Whoever had mothballed and closed this facility had not expected anyone to come and interfere with it. Jack slid the door open.
The air inside was musty. It was dark and dusty, shards of light cutting through the dust that swirled about, kicked up by Jack’s boots.
Throwing aside one of the covers, Jack found a black military drone. He recognized the model from his brother’s virtual reality games. It was a weaponized reconnaissance drone used to scout ahead of the main force. Its hull was cracked and dusty. Similar drones had been used by university campus security and by local police forces, before they had all been requisitioned to assist in the fight against the Chitins.
Jack walked around the drone to the service hatch. He pressed and clawed at it. He knew this model of drone and it would be a moment of escape from his brutal military training to investigate this machine. The panel popped open.
The biomech circuitry was putrid. It spewed out over the side of the hull and onto the toes of Jack’s boots. It stank of rotten meat and sour milk.
Backing away from the drone and the stink, Jack threw aside more of the dust covers, looking for any abandoned equipment. There were several small surveillance drones, a supply delivery drone, and parts for the weaponized reconnaissance drone. Jack picked through the parts for anything usable. He realized that it was the remains of at least two other reconnaissance drones that had been stripped for parts. He found a section of hull that showed signs of energy weapon damage. The composite hull was blistered around the entry wound and the edge was bubbled to a brittle foam. It looked like the work of a Chitin plasma spear.
Jack found a collection of power cells for the drones. All were spent, but at least one was clean. Jack cracked open the seal and took a sniff. It was healthy, even though it was unpowered. Jack dug around and found some cleaning equipment and set about cleaning the putrid biomech circuitry of the military drone.
Sitting in the dust and debris of the workshop, Jack lost himself in the work. He cleaned and primed the reconnaissance drone. He studied his work in the failing light. It looked good. He’d found the parts he needed. He really wanted to check his work. All he needed was a power supply, and he knew where he could find one.
The door to the workshop slid open. The rattling noise and scrapping surprised Jack. He turned and jumped to his feet.
“Lieutenant Crippin, sir,” Jack said. He stood at attention. He was going to get tazed for this, at the very least.
“I guessed it would be you out here. Stand at ease, recruit.” Crippin looked around the workshop. “I had to flog you,” she said, walking around the cleaned and repaired drone. “You are right, of course, we attacked them first, but I can’t have you saying that stuff in front of everyone.” Crippin opened the service hatch on the drone and looked inside. “We used to be so sophisticated. We’ve thrown everything at these Chits. We’ve lost mech and manpower. We are falling back all the time. They are just too difficult to hit and they find it too easy to hit us. We lost the Destroyer Libra today.”
Crippin walked toward the door. She hesitated. “My last group of recruits was on that ship. Go to bed, Forge. Busy day tomorrow.”
Chapter 10
The bunkhouse was bustling when Jack entered. Bill, sitting alone, stood up and walked to Jack’s side.
“You’ve been away all day. Where’d you go?”
“Just out.”
“You missed rations. Hacker brought them in and threw them to our bunks. Torent took yours.”
Jack looked over to Torent. One of his cronies was smearing lotion over his back where he’d taken his lashes. Torent spotted Jack and pushed away from his cronies.
He walked over to Jack, shirtless. There were gang tattoos on his chest and arms, old knife wounds, and one large scar across his stomach. He squared up to Jack.
“You been absent, Forge.”
“I had free time.”
“I want you to let me know if you are going to disappear again. You get me?” Torent turned his head, pointing his ear toward Jack.
“Okay.”
“Answer correctly, Forge.”
“Screw you, Torent. You are not an officer.”
“I will be, so you’d better get used to treating me like it.” Torent held out his hand and one of his groupies produced a ration block.
“I need my squad at full strength. Eat.” He pressed the silver block into Jack’s hands, then slung an arm over Jack’s shoulder and walked along the bunkhouse. Jack spotted Bill attempting to follow but being held back by Torent’s cronies. “I can read people, Forge. Read you right, didn’t I? Annoying, and smart. And I can read him too.” Torent jabbed a thumb back toward Bill. “Watch out for him. He’s real trouble.” Torent pushed Jack onto his bunk. “Now eat and rest. I want you ready for action tomorrow.”
The siren’s wail surprised Jack and Torent as it pierced the noise of the bunkhouse. Torent looked around, trying to understand what it meant. Then the first explosion shook the bunkhouse.
Jack crouched down as dust fell from the roof. Recruits were screaming, many cowering under their bunks. A second explosion shook the ground.
Torent alone stood in the middle of the bunkhouse. “On your feet,” he shouted. Torent walked along the middle of the bunkhouse shouting. “On your feet. Get your jackets buttoned and your rifles loaded.”
The doors burst open and Sergeant Hacker charged in. He went to the far end of the bunkhouse and began waving both his arms wildly, waving the recruits out the door.
Crippin was crouched on one knee on the parade ground. She was fastening on a jacket with pouches for ammunition clips. Her rifle was propped up against her. She waved the recruits over.
“Take a knee and listen up. This is not a drill. A Chitin craft has been detected approaching the training moon. We’ve already lost contact with Training Base Delta. We are going to defend ourselves. The Destroyer Scorpio is on route with a battalion of Fleet Marines on board. But believe me when I say we are on our own. We must fight or die. Do you get me?”
Sergeant Hacker dragged a trolley with ammunition packs out into the parade ground.
“Remember when these were just a bunch of hayseeds, Sergeant?”
Hacker began handing out ammunition.
“They grow up so fast.” Crippin primed her rifle and tested the sights.
An explosion in the distance lit up the sky. “We will take a defensive position on the hill. Follow me.”
Crippin set off toward the hill. She moved fast and stayed low. The recruits followed. Jack checked that his rifle was ready for action. He was certain this was some training exercise. Some around him also seemed unconvinced, while others were terrified. Another explosion in the distance set up a ripple of noise that spread through the recruits.
“Quiet,” Crippin called in a harsh whisper. “Squad Leader, keep your squad quiet.”
Crippin moved quickly and Hacker brought up the rear, urging the stragglers on. Jack kept up with Crippin, Torent not far behind. They reached the summit of the hill and had a wide view of the surrounding ground. A fire was burning just over the horizon beyond the training ground of small hills and pathways.
“We could take cover in the training ground,” Torent suggested.
“We’ll be separated by the hills. We won’t be able to fire as a unit. It’ll reduce our fire concentration and we’ll be too easy to break up,” Jack said.