Final part of the introduction. If palatable to you, then enjoy!
With deliberate, rehearsed motions, he jutted his armored hand forwards, grasping a rock in the dim,pale, shadowy desert that surrounded him from all sides.
You got this... Remember the rules. Grasp, don't push. Keep the direction parallel. Don't push outwards. Inhale....right hand...exhale...left hand.
Glancing around, he saw the other members of the fireteam scurrying above the surface, with the same deliberate gestures, like spiders crawling up a curtain in the night.
We made it so far. Just a little more to go.
"Half a click left to the summit, boys" said sergeant Walker with a tone of authority. "Stay frosty, let's not screw up just as we're about to hit home base. Anyone drops the ball, and he'll be doing double shifts down on the reactor level."
"Honestly, sir? Eight hours of watching grass grow and hydrogen fuse might be preferable" said private Ortega to the far right.
"Can it, Ortega. The universe is on the other side of this suit, and I'd like to do it a favor."
"What happens if one of us slips up, sir? I mean, we got thrusters to get us back if we over-jump."
Really tempting fate with that one, rookie.
"Thrusters won't get you far enough from me if you screw up." barked the sergeant. "Our little field trip is monitored, private Jensen. No one goes out an airlock without permission. Our performance is weighed and measured. We're the best and we ought to show it."
"Rest of the platoon should already be up there, sarge" he reported.
"They contacted earlier, corporal Hammond" replied the NCO. "They made it a couple of hours ago, and headed back in before the test firing commenced."
Right...the Mjolnir. A stab of worry raced through his body. Are they done with it?
"Is the test completed, sir?" he asked, trying to mask his concern.
"Of course, corporal" replied Walker. "How the hell could I bring us here if it wasn't? I checked in with command on the way here."
"Understood, sir" he mouthed relieved.
"Sir, I don't understand" said the rookie that made up the left-hand part of the group. "Why are those things dangerous to us if we're the ones firing it?"
"If we'd be on a ship, we'd be safe. But out here, in these suits, we're vulnerable to backscattering from the firing. The target is pretty close by, after all. Even if they angle the thing, some radiation is bound to come our way."
"Sounds risky, sir" said private Jensen.
The sargeant gruffed.
"We didn't sign up for kindergarten class, son. Everything we do is dangerous."
"But why these strolls under the stars, outside our base? We got drill rooms, VR, the whole shebang down there."
"VR",said the NCO with disdain,"is different from real life. VR's for fleeters and wannabes. Ain't no better training that experiencing the real thing. Tell me, private Jensen, what's the most difficult part of a boarding action?"
Quizzing and spacewalking at the same time, I see.
"Boarding, sir. You need to know how to set up the charges, guesstimate firing solutions once you're..."
"WRONG!" barked the sergeant. "It's landing dammit! Ship hulls aren't magnetic, so your mag-boots are of no use. What the hell do those trained chimps teach you, there, at Luna? Didn't they show you the lobes?"
"I....uhmmm... wasn't the best in the techier classes" replied private Jensen with humbleness.
"Told ya these new dudes are glorified security guards" chuckled private First class O'Neill. "Got their heads filled with all that fleeter propaganda."
"When we board" interrupted corporal Hammond, "we land at significant speed. We need to find any purchase we can, and hold on to dear life while locating a grav line."
"Grav lines are a side effect of grav plating" continued the sergeant. " Any grav plate has lobes of influence, just like an antenna. You have a big lobe on one side, where you stroll in the morning while sipping your coffee. But there are also smaller sidelobes to the side. "
"These are long, pointy zone of influence. If the corridor in question happens to be close to the hull, the ends of said sidelobes can jut out from it's surface. And since grav plates go from end to end, these lobes form up into something like gravitational handrails. But they're invisible, so locating them is the tricky part. Once you find them, THEN you start setting up charges."
"Corporal's got it right. It's the bread and butter of any boarding action. We're out here to rehearse grabbing onto stuff while moving in low-G. Ain't no PT gonna teach you that!"
"Understood, sir..." said Jensen. "But, if the ships's accelerating, won't it shove us off it's hull?"
Good question: "No. The grav plates change vector and strength to compensate for movement. And that changes the vector and size of the sidelobes as well."
"Which is why you have gecko skin on you boots and gloves" picked up the sergeant , "and heavy weights in them. To give you a firmer grip once you make contact. And once inside, your scuba has been generously provided with servos, courtesy of the taxpayer, to move your heavy-ass suit, ammo, weapons and boots around. Got it?"
"Got it" said Jensen.
"One last thing: getting to know the lay of the land is proper. Alpine force back on dirtside often take long camping marches through the mountains to get to know the terrain, it's hiding spots and geography. Comes in handy if your maps are down. A monograph of the region. In our case, the region is this roid."
"See, kid? Use big words, and it'll get ya far" said the sergeant, glancing upwards."We're entering the terminus. Everyone Slide their visors."
The entire fireteam proceeded as instructed. The world became darker for a few minutes, and all the corporal had to go by was the sensation of dirt under his gloved fingers. Then...brilliant white. He squinted as he passed the boundary between light and dark, the light grey color of the sand and rocks that made up the summit of the mountain suddenly visible in sharp contrast. The terrain also became flatter, as they entered the summit of the mountain. The sergeant raised his hand, and the entire fireteam crept up to him.
"We made it. Fifty-one clicks, and not a single ape falling from the tree", he said with a martial air of pride. "Good lads! Longest spacewalk we've taken so far. Drinks are on me tonight."
"Drinks are for the youth, sarge. Once we get back in, I'm grabbing some Z's" said private O'Neill, scanning the small plateau.
While the men started bantering, the corporal spun around, taking in the view of the valley they had just clambered out of. It was dark, filled with silhouettes, but not a sign of human activity. He knew a spiderweb of magnetic tracks was located just under the surface, suspended in the eternal cold of the shadows of the surrounding cliffs.
If this is a peak of eternal light, that must be a valley of eternal darkness. In the middle, just barely visible, was a dark aperture, small in comparison to the peaks around it, but huge in relation to the surrounding terrain.
The Iris...the giant aperture that made up one end of the roughly cylindrical stalk which comprised most of the base. The place where new ships were built and launched from. He'd seen it a few times, a cavern of epic proportions that was nearly two hundred meters in diameter and a mile long, covered in long robotic arms, with smelters, cable machines, and automated electronics factories embedded along it's axis. A giant assembly line.
To the right, he knew there were the hangars, where the frigate assigned to this base, along with the tugs and shuttles were housed. Itself massive, it was invisible, the sliding metal doors covered in layers of cooling pipes, radar absorbent material, and natural dirt sintered together.
The left side of the base had a smaller aperture, though still about a hundred meters in diameter. Inside was the giant truss structure that, for the moment, housed the particle beam weapon of the future, the Mjolnir. Bet even opening that thing up takes as much power as an average sized village.
And all was invisible to everything but the most detailed radar scans. Even heat was collected and piped away. The defense turrets, the hangars, the airlocks, all were covered. Guess building in near zero-G is cheap, but God damn, this must've cost a fortune. He suspected heavy automation had done most of the work, but that still left massive amounts of internal fixtures that needed human hands to place.
"Hammond, switch to channel 2. I wanna have a word."
Turning, the corporal did as instructed. So...we're having that talk,eh? Guess it's as good a time as any.
"Heard you signed up for officer, kid. About dammed time. Congrats, I know you'll make us proud" said the sergeant standing not nearly five feet from him.
"Thank you, sir. I won't let you down" he mouthed unconfortably.
""Thank you, Sir?" You kidding?" said the sergeant with authority. "You didn't even mention this before we set off. I've been trying to get you to enlist in the Academy for the better part of a year. What the hell finally made ya come to your senses?"
"I... realised it was time to move one, sir. There's...nothing left for me where I'm at now."
"Then why are you still scared like a highschooler on her first date?"
"It's just...I picked a bad time sir, what with all this hush-hush talk of impending war and first contact maddness. "
"It'll never be a good time, son. Waiting is gonna get ya old real fast" gruffed the sergeant. "You're right, we live in... interesting times, as the chinese proverb goes... but it's a good a time as any. We NEED good officers like air."
He knew the sergeant was right. Back when everyone knew they were the only intelligent species in this Universe, the colonial marines could afford to be picky, and skim the best of the recruits to build up a force that was just as elite as any dirtside. But now that war was rumored to be imminent training centres were barely able to keep up with the corps' swelling numbers. But worse off, they needed far more officers to command the newly enlisted men. Officers were costly in terms of time to produce.
"I've wondered...whether I'm not already doing enough...Maybe I'd better serve here, as an NCO."
"Don't be a gibbon, corporal. You'd make a hella fine officer. You got more brains than the rest of the platoon put together. And you got leadership to go with that sharp wit."
"It's just...I never thought about my future before this whole first contact thing gave me kick in the nuts. I didn't join the TCM because I was out for glory. I just wanted to get away from Hamburg". As fast as possible.
"Your reasons are irrelevant. Long as you wanna serve, I suggest you serve with all your capacity. If you're worried about leaving us behind, don't be. If you haven't noticed, I've got enough trained apes to lug around big bits of metal."
"And... I don't like the idea of sitting in the back and sending people out to do the fighting. What if I screw up? People get killed.They ain't saying it, but war seems like a very real possibility."
"Regardless of what pony and dog show the brass and politicians put up, we got a job to do. You're a good leader, and you got actual field experience. Academy could use you. If it makes you feel any better, I'd follow your orders with confidence. I trust your judgement."
The corporal smiled. "Gonna miss you, sir."
"So are we, corporal" said the sergeant, with a more fatherly tone."When are you shipping out?"
"About three months time. Academy classes start in November. "
"Send us a wave from time to time. Guess O'Neill's gonna get his promotion after all" chuckled the sergeant.
"Just don't let him use my bed."
"No promises, son" grinned the NCO. He then operated the pannel on his wrist, changing his frequency. "Command, this is sergeant Walker. We've completed our exercise, and are heading back in.ETA is 25 minutes. Please advise."
"Roger, sergeant. Proceed to airlock 4."
"Airlock 4 confirmed. Walker out". Switching to general comms, he boomed into the team's earpieces. "Break time's over. We're heading back in. Check weapons, and prepare to march".
"Just I was getting comfy", mouthed Ortega while precariously perched on a large boulder.
As the team proceeded back into the valley, they were engulfed by shadows as they made their way down the peal. Corporal Hammond trailed behind, taking one long breath while still in the sun. Turning towards the other side of the peak, and staring at the starfield beyond, he felt a form of anxiety,but also...happiness.
Time to find my fate in the world. Fortune favors the brave.