Prologue
The soldier behind the desk in the lab was becoming irritated as she went through the file from the orphanage again. Lieutenant Masters had been sent from the Imperial cruiser, Nike, to conduct the interviews with the potential draftees on this planet. The tall, well muscled-man in front of her was one.
“Mr. Doe, the first records that we have of you are from when you were found in the orphanage as a new born. You’re an enigma. No birth certificate. Bright, but reclusive. Not prone to mischief. Taught Mandarin as you first language. What can you tell me about your past?”
“Ma’am,” Jon replied in broken Standard, “there not much to tell. Taken from the orphanage by man claiming to be my father when big enough to work in mines. Sold me to Jayco when he told them I thirteen for pay gambling debts.” Jon replied.
“Your Standard isn’t bad. Who taught you that?” she asked.
Jon was reluctant to answer.
“Go on Mr. Doe, ‘Jon’ if I may. I’m just trying to find out something about you. We might be able to use a man like you in the service.” Masters prodded. “Where did you get those scars? I’ve never seen any thing like that.”
“Scars are from smelter explosion. Same one that took my mentor and friend, Jon Cabot over year ago. He taught Standard. He taught me read and write.”
“Good, you’re literate which is better than most of the rest on this god forsaken planet. We can give you a better life, Jon. I want you to read this contract. If you have questions, I will be happy to answer them.”
Jon took his time and read the contract. There were many words that needed explaining, but eventually he was through it.
“What is ‘physical’ thing ma’am? Why necessary?” he asked.
“If you enter the service, we need to know if you are healthy enough to meet the commitment of the four years of the contract. If you cannot meet the standards of the physical, the contract will be null and void. We will leave you here on Janus as a citizen until the new government is established.”
Jon signed the contract. “Ma’am, what is date?”
“Today is February 5th, 2324,” Masters said.
He passed the physical that immediately followed. He thought that there could be nothing worse than living as a slave on Janus. He was wrong.
Chapter 1 – Boot Camp
I bunked down with the rest of the recruits onboard the ISS Charles Abrell, a gator freighter named after a marine Medal of Honor winner in the Earth’s Korean war. I learned later that all the marine assault ships were named after Medal of Honor winners from the Earth’s past. They all had quite a history.
It took us to a moon off a gas giant called Hades in the Tau Ceti system with a gravity of 1.4 times that of Earth, so I heard. The shuttle did a combat drop to the moon and set us down rather roughly for the beginning of our training. The gravity was about the same as that of Janus, so it didn’t bother me too much. There were some that had a bad time. We piled off the shuttle with what little we had, standing in disarray as the shuttle lifted off.
That didn’t last for long, as three Sargents got in our faces immediately to straighten us out. I kept my mouth shut and tried to understand what they were telling us in their Terran Standard, the universal language of the Empire of Man. I even spoke some of it, though my native language was something more akin to Mandarin.
“You, there the tall one with the scars! Didn’t you hear what I just said? Line up and come to attention!” one Sargent yelled in my face. I understood, and did as I was told, then we picked up our baggage and headed to the barracks on the field for ‘processing’. I didn’t have any baggage, so I just followed along to the first of the huts.
The moon rotated to darkness what seemed ten hours later. We entered our home for the next eighteen earth weeks after inoculations, clothing issue, buzz cuts and various testing. Staff Sargent McAllister led us in and Platoon Sargent Barnes lined us up by our bunks with our duffel bags on our ‘racks’ as they called them. Gunnery Sargent Zhang, a lean, pantherish man, introduced himself to each of us, starting with a tirade of how worthless we all were at one end of the barracks and ending at the other. He was on the reverse course when he stopped in front of me.
“My God, you are one ugly son of a bitch. I’ve never seen scars like that, son. What happened?”
“SIR, an explosion at the smelting plant, SIR! Molten metal killed my mentor and left me with scars, SIR!” I hoped that was the correct response. He had me take off my clothes and turn around. The scars ran in vertical stripes up and down my body. He had me dress in my shorts, so I wasn’t exposed.
“That is the worst scarring I have ever seen on one body. I’ve been in jungles where big cats striped like that are called tigers. They are mean, vicious, wanton killers. Are you a killer, son?” he asked.
“Sir?” I asked.
“I asked if you are a killer, son. Do you have a hearing problem?” Zhang asked.
“SIR, NO SIR!” I answered.
“Sir, no sir, to which question, son? Are you a killer?” he asked again.
“SIR, NO SIR!” I answered.
“Are you hard of hearing?” he asked.
“SIR, NO SIR!” I answered.
“That’s nice, Tiger Man. We are going to make you a killer, Tiger Man. Nobody has a real name of ‘Jon Doe’ either. Don’t you have a real name, son?” Zhang asked.
“SIR, NO SIR!” I answered. “Not one I remember, SIR!”
That took him by surprise. Moving on down the line, he turned us over to his subordinates and had them instruct us on how to stow our clothing and make our racks with square corners. When they inspected us, if one hadn’t done it right, we all did it again. The fourth time through, we did it right.
“Reveille at 0500. That is in about six hours, Greenwich Mean Time (GMT). Our clocks are set to the earth standard, so no one is on different time. All the military services are on GMT. Is that understood?” McAllister asked in a loud voice.
“SIR, YES SIR!” we all answered.
“Hit the rack! Tomorrow comes early! We have an enjoyable day lined up for you!” he laughed. “Tiger Man, come with me. The Gunny wants a word.”
I followed, still in my shorts.
“Here he is, Gunny.” McAllister shoved me in and shut the door.
“Have a seat, Tiger Man,” he said.
I did, warily. He got up and came to the front of the desk, leaning against it.
“I looked at your records. Everything you said is true, though you didn’t go into detail. Your father sold you into slavery to pay his debts. You never knew your mother. She died in childbirth, something unheard of today. Also, there was no birth certificate, you really have no name.” He paused, frowning in my general direction.
“I’ve been in contact with my superiors since I left the barracks. You are a special case. The terms of your enlistment aren’t exactly legal, per se. Considering that revelation, we are going to offer you a discharge from the service under honorable conditions. The other option is for you to stay in for the four-year term of your enlistment, going through our schools and training to become a Marine. You may fail, you may wash out, or you may become one of us, the band of brothers that is the Imperial Space Marine Corps. The life is hard and dangerous, but I’m not so sure that it is as dangerous as the one that you come from. Think about it. I need an answer after chow in the morning. Dismissed!” he said.
I rose to leave. I didn’t know if there was something I needed to do before I left. I was confused.
“Thank you Gunnery Sargent. I will. Good night.”
“Good night, Tiger Man.” he said with his eyes following me out of the door.
I returned to my bunk in the dim light. Laying on top of the bunk, I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
******
I was up before reveille. I rolled out of the rack and finished with my business and had on my BDUs before the bugle sounded. I even made my rack. Where I come from, getting over five hours of sleep at a time is almost unheard of.
McAllister was banging on a garbage can lid and kicking the recruits out of the rack as he made his way through the barracks. I was standing at the end of mine, dressed and ready to go, looking straight ahead as he walked by. He said nothing, but gave me a strange look as he moved on.
“WE MOVE OUT TO THE CHOW HALL IN TEN MINUTES. YOU SLEEPING BEAUTIES FALL OUT BY SGT. BARNES ON THE GRINDER. WE WILL DOUBLE-TIME TO THE CHOW HALL FROM THERE!” McAllister ranted.
“TIGER MAN FALL OUT!” he ordered.
“SIR, YES SIR!” I answered and left.
We ran for the first time to the chow hall as an uncoordinated, ragtag platoon of recruits. We ate. Then we ran some more. Half the men and women puked after the first lap around the grinder. Gunny Zhang called me out of the formation after the second lap.
“What are you going to do, Tiger Man?” he asked.
“SIR, I stay, SIR!” I answered.
“I would ask why, Tiger Man. In your case, I know why. You need something to believe in, though you don’t know it yet. Hell, nothing we can do to you here is as rough as everyday life used to be for you.” He paused. “Get back out there Tiger Man.”
He stood there watching as I rejoined the platoon. He watched me moving with the rest of my platoon, helping some stragglers to get moving again after they lost their breakfast. “Keep moving!” I’d help them catch up, or try to. At the end of the run, a skinny kid named Rodgers and I were the only ones still standing. While Barnes and McAllister got everyone back on their feet, Zhang watched the two of us as we helped the rest.
The next thing we did was in sentry training, then learned the ranks, then drill and ceremony training, lunch, small arms, history and the code of military justice. Then more exercise and physical training before chow.
I had never had it so good! Three meals a day, lots of exercise, learning how to use weapons and camping out after some more exercise and my Standard improved every day, though there was a lot of slang and other things I learned from listening to my shipmates and the recordings that I plugged in each night for sleep learning.
Then came hand-to-hand combat. I thought that was going to be hard, but Jon had taught me well. After years of survival on Janus, I’d had more than my share of scrapes and knew not only the defensive side of self-defense but the offensive side as well when dealing with large groups. I excelled at hand-to-hand.
GS Mantooth, an Amerindian from the Blackfoot tribe, was the instructor. When my turn for the match with him, he wasn’t ready for someone that actually had any training. The match lasted maybe five seconds. Then I threw him out of the pit, dislocating his elbow and shoulder. He went to the infirmary.
GS Zhang was in my face almost immediately. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING RECRUIT? GS MANTOOTH IS THE INSTRUCTOR HERE! YOU ARE THE STUDENT!” He acted pissed, but I could tell that it was a charade to see if he could get a rise out of me.
“SIR! His exact words were, ‘Let’s see if you can beat me, Tiger Man! I’m going to mess you up!’ SIR!” I said. “RESPECTFULLY SIR! I do not believe it was in my best interests to be ‘messed up’, SIR!”
He shook his head and said, “Follow me, Tiger Man. We are going to see the Captain.”
I thought that my days in the Corps were over as I followed Zhang to the Post headquarters. We waited in the hall at parade rest for almost a half hour before we were told to enter Captain Striker’s office. “Come in GS Zhang, Recruit Doe? Hmm.” he said, looking through my record. He threw the record on the desk, then put us both at parade rest for attention. Walking around me, he eyeballed me up and down. He stood about an arm’s length (his, not mine) in front of me and looked up into my eyes. “So you are the ‘Tiger Man’, are you?” Not expecting an answer, he turned and picked up my record again, facing me. “Did you know that everything that happens here in the camp is recorded, Recruit Doe? We have it on record that Mantooth said that he was going to ‘MESS YOU UP’. Is that what you heard as well, Recruit?”
“SIR, YES SIR!” I responded.
“Well, it looks like he picked the wrong recruit to tell that too, doesn’t it, Recruit Doe? Looking through your record, I see you have been exemplary in your performance. Did you mean to hurt GS Mantooth when he threatened you? Your background shows that you have had a, um, unconventional upbringing than most that come through this camp. What was your intent when Mantooth threatened you, Recruit Doe?” Striker asked, getting close.
“SIR! I took him at his word, SIR! When he made his move, I countered and made sure that he couldn’t carry through with the threat, SIR!” I replied, telling him the truth. “When I fight, I fight to stay alive, SIR! It is not a game to me, SIR!”
The captain put his butt against his desk, looking at me long and hard. “Recruit Doe or ‘Tiger Man’ as the rest of the platoon and company call you, step outside of my office and wait at parade rest while I talk to the Colonel and GS Zhang.”
“SIR, YES SIR!” I replied, saluting, then taking my leave.
I waited for almost a half Terran hour for GS Zhang to leave the Captain’s office. He turned and looked at the door in a curious sort of way, then at me.
“Recruit Doe. Follow me. We are heading back to the barracks where you will pack your duffel bag, then report back to my office. We are transferring you to another outfit. You are no longer a recruit. You have graduated.” he said, opening the door and heading in the general direction of the barracks.
I packed my belongings and was back standing outside of GS Zhang’s office within minutes. I rapped on the door.
“Enter!” he commanded.
Shutting the door behind me, he offered me a seat, then came to the front of his desk and folded his arms across his chest.
“I have been at this post for the last three years, Jon. You are the first that has ever beaten Mantooth. Not only that, but how you did it left no doubt you are not even close to operating at your potential here. We have offered you no challenge. That is about to change. We are sending you to special ops. There you will learn everything from knife fighting to flying assault shuttles and Marine close support operations. You will spend most of your time on the ground, though. Spec Ops is mostly behind the lines work. You are a natural for this work. Though you haven’t talked about it, you have an eidetic memory that you have tried to hide, you move like a tiger, and you are deadly at close quarters. I can’t tell you much else about this work, Corporal, but let me be the first to welcome you to the brotherhood. No more loafing for you. Now you get to use some of that ability you have. Let’s go Tiger Man. Your transportation is waiting for you to the ISS Harold Epperson, your ride to Earth and Camp Pendleton. You will continue your training there.”
We left GS Zhang’s office. I thought I would never see him again after I boarded the shuttle.
******
My ‘ride’ was anything but. While we were en route, I was in the gym every day, learning the fine art of knife fighting and teaching hand-to-hand, the way that I learned it. The five guys I was with all had specialties. Mine was hand-to-hand combat. Sargent Ferguson taught us how to fly shuttles and aeronautics. We qualified on them while we were on the Epperson. Sargent March taught us communications. We learned everything from semaphore and heliography, Morse code, and beyond. Corporal Larson taught us field skills, such as first aid, stealth, no impact camping, and other things that would keep us alive behind enemy lines. Corporal Newel was a master of improvisation, able to manufacture weapons from almost anything. Last but not least was Sargent Mantooth with his arm in a sling. Andy taught the skills of trapping and hunting. He was a pretty good guy once I got to know him. He didn’t hold a grudge.
By the time the shuttle took us to Pendleton, we were all pretty proficient in each other’s skill set. Touching down, having only enough time to report in, then get assigned to our various tactical units or teams (tac-teams) as they called our eight-man units. They assigned us our gear that ranged from the most reliable small arms to night gear for infiltration. Experts taught how to use all the gear, the medium gear, for when we were assigned to other ops, like rescue. They taught us how to drive hover craft and tanks, gunnery with artillery and the heavy weapons of the tanks, anti-tank warfare and how to lay do the most damage in the shortest amount of time, much like the SEALs of old.
We trained and trained for day and night operations. Six earth months we trained. Master Chief Peterman, our team leader, pronounced us ready for an actual op. We kept training until the call came in for the incursion of the Xin at Epsilon Eridani. We loaded out our assault shuttle with our equipment and we of Team 4 were on our way to the ISS Douglas Dickey. Some intelligence types and Teams-3 and Team-7 in their own shuttles joined us. All of us learned of our upcoming opponents on the ride to Epsilon Eridani on the way.
The Xin were not humanoid. They looked like overgrown Praying Mantises. A queen controlled them and they had a hive mind. None of the intel could give us a range for their queen’s control, so until we could find her, it could be a long pitched battle. Their main battle weapon was a laser and a vicious projectile weapon that fired a disc with serrated edges that could disarm and disable a marine or several with one hit. That was not a weapon to take lightly.
Chapter 2–Epsilon Eridani
We of Team-4 spearheaded the force and were the first on the ground, coming in hot jumping out of our shielded shuttle with our full mirrored battle rattle. I was the largest of our team, so I had the privilege of manning the mini-gun, and Corporal Maxwell had the privilege of being my second. Those things had changed little in the last 200 years, with the exception that the rounds were now explosive as well. The .308 rounds could also be changed out to the new mini-shaped charge rounds for armor.
We dropped just behind the Xin encampment and I opened up, keeping the bursts short, working the area for effect. Sargent Campbell and Corporal Higgs picked off the snipers and the singles that remained. One pass and the Xin were cleared from the immediate area. Team 3 landed 200 meters to our left and took out the immediate threats in their area the Team 7 followed and opened up on our right. We pressed forward with our assault shuttles, laying fire on our flanks, and making passes along the front line as we advanced. Soon it was raining shuttles behind us as the regular marines followed up. Fighters from the Epperson and the Navy Carrier MacArthur burned the cover all around us. The Xin never knew what hit them. The skirmish ended in an hour. Colonel Matheson had the Master Chief report in to the temporary HQ (headquarters) while we took a breather. The regulars had already established a foothold.
******
We entered our shuttle, moving to the Xin rear area to keep them off balance. Maxwell and I loaded up and lined up as the shuttle followed the fighter bombers in, blazing away with the auto-cannons leveling and destroying anything left behind. The ramp opened, and we jumped out, setting a perimeter for more marines to drop in. Leaving the mini-gun aboard, Maxwell and I moved to our assigned point on Hill-135 and set up the 50 terajoule laser and the generator we pulled out of the shuttle. I also pulled the mini out in case things got close and hot besides our normal weapon complement.
I worried a little when the terrain shifted in front of us a little just after we set up the laser cannon. The enemy knew we were up there, so there we lost no surprise when I let loose a shot down on the brown mass below. The entire hillside started crawling up in our direction! I called in an air-strike and started frying anything that looked suspicious around us. The whole place was crawling. Max took the cannon, and I opened up with the mini, killing everything moving in our direction. We decimated the Xin trying to take the hill. I was nicked with one of the ‘buzz-saws’ as we were calling them. It got Max as it continued on, embedding into his chest cutting his heart in half. I don’t remember a lot of what happened next, but I barely standing when the marines found me, though I had about bled out. Mountains of dead Xin surrounded our hill. When the fog lifted, Max was taken away. Someone tied off the tourniquet below my left elbow. The rest was gone. I passed out on the gurney as they loaded me into the air-ambulance.
******
When I came too, Peterman stood over me with Colonel Matheson.
“Good to see that you are still with us, Tiger Man. You lost a lot of blood in addition to your forearm. Not to worry, you’ll have a new one in a few days that you’ll be able to use just like your old one. That a helluva fight that you and Maxwell put up on that hill, son. We are still working on the body count. You get well, Sargent Tiger Man. This isn’t over yet.” Colonel Matheson left to attend to something else.
Peterman pulled up a chair and talked to me a bit. “You and Max did an amazing job. You were fighting hand to hand, locked in a knife fight at the last, when we finally got to you. I have seen nothing to compare. We got the last one as he lit off the buzz-saw that took your arm. The little dodge that you did deflected the saw just enough that it went through your arm, then took out three more Xin trying to flank you. Unfortunately, Max got in the way. You know that they’re going to hang a bunch of medals on you because of this action. That was way above and beyond the call of duty, Sarge. You’ve been promoted. Get well and learn to use that new arm. We need you to teach the new guys. There are four of us left.”
Master Chief Peterman threw me a salute as he left the room. I almost returned it before he reached the door. I passed out again, though I don’t remember why.
******
Four weeks later, I had a complete arm again. Well, almost. You couldn’t really tell that the part from just below the elbow down. Plastiskin and the muscles and sinew that below the surface were actually simulations. I could feel my fingers and had as much or more dexterity as I had before. The sensations that I felt from the new hand were much the same as before.