All My Sins Remembered Read online

  The light body armor she wore was heavier than expected, but its weight felt comforting. She had never had to wear body armor before, and started sweating as soon as she had it all on until she plugged the armor into the small power pack that was in a fabric pouch strapped to her leg. That power pack would supply power to her armor, and later to her helmet, once she plugged it in. One of the most important components to combat armor was the armor’s climate control system, which immediately kicked in once power was being fed to it, cooling her. The vest alone easily weighed around 4 kilos. In all, the armor weighed about 9 kilos.

  The Marines were going through the process of checking their subrail guns, which were the successor to the submachine gun of centuries past. Still propelled by rail technology, subrail guns had a faster firing rate than that of their ancient counterparts, submachine guns, and a greater range. However, subrail guns were still built to be silent. Often, when firing subrail guns, the loudest sound was the action of the gun cycling. Laser sights built into the barrel, rather being an attachment, allowed a Marine to quickly point their weapon at a target and fire from the hip accurately, without having to aim using the sights.

  The Marines looked quite comfortable in their heavier, and bulkier, combat armor. Though not as heavy as the powered armor the Marines usually wore on a mission, their combat armor still provided some protection against most hand held weapons. Though the armor itself weighed around twenty kilos, the training Talon Marines had to endure required them to run several kilometers whilst wearing combat armor, along with a full pack, adding another 20 kilos. After their run, they would then be required to engage in a series of war games. Talon Marines in their armor, particularly their powered armor, were both feared and respected. Of course, powered armor was easier to get into, because you simply climbed into it from the back, and then it closed in on you, similar to the cockpit hatch of a fighter. Combat armor had to be put on, piece by piece, and latched or cinched into place, depending on the kind of armor it was, so that it did not come undone in the heat of combat.

  As Nathan watched his team making final checks on their weapons with an expert eye, he absently checked his own Mags, making sure the safety was on, the chamber was empty, and the action was cleared. He grinned as he remembered his own training in Boot Camp. It was twelve weeks of hell as he went through basic training, followed by another twenty-nine weeks of weapons training, and then finally an additional six months of being exposed to the most brutal conditions imaginable as the Republic Marine Corps subjected him and his fellow Marines to further training in how to operate and survive in a large variety of climates that may be encountered as they were sent to into combat on one planet after another.

  Pulling on his combat helmet, Nathan plugged it into the rest of his combat armor’s system, and then adjusted his armor’s client control system to run a little cooler, as he was starting to sweat again. The armor’s climate control systems provided him with protection from heat or cold by pumping heated or cooled liquid through many small tubes through his armor. He always thought of circuitry on a microchip when he thought of the heating and cooling system, because that is basically how it was designed. It was embedded into the armor, and engineered with the ability to intelligently reroute around damaged sections. The power supply also powered his helmet’s communications system, and the heads-up holodisplay that projected itself on the inside of his helmet’s see-through visor. The heads-up holodisplay was capable of projecting schematics, topographical maps, real time medical readouts of him and his team, as well as many other things that provided him with needed information. Of course, his helmet’s communications suit was a little more complex, due to the fact that he was in a command position, as were the fire team leader’s communications suite. Most communications suites were a little more limited, and incapable of seeing anyone’s real time medical readout other than their own. Satisfied that his helmet’s systems had finished powering up, Nathan turned his attention to the others in his team, making sure their helmets were properly plugged in, and that their armor was properly latched into place.

  “Alright. Let’s get to Cargo bay two. We’re boarding a gator, and then we’ll use the freight elevator there to exit the ship.” Commander Schultz ordered as he led the way out of the armory and into the hall. He was followed by PFC Grobnak and Lance Corporal Serms. Tasha found herself in the middle of the column, followed by PFC Delgato and Corporal Wittaker as they trooped down to the cargo bays. A few minutes later the team piled into a gator. A gator was a small armored ATV with two axles in the rear and one in the front. The back of the gator was armored and enclosed, with a bench on either side made to carry up to eight Marines and their gear. The Boatswain, satisfied everyone had settled, fired the engine to life and drove it onto the ship’s freight elevator. As the elevator reached the floor of Gitmos' docks, the Gator's engine roared off the elevator and made a beeline towards the huge cargo carrier on the far side of the docks, driving around the huge pylons that were a part of the ship slings in the dockyards.

  Chapter 6

  Gitmo’s dock was unique. The dockyard was enclosed, and covered walkways could be seen extending from the piers in the dockyard, providing ramps for crews to disembark. In each dock, a huge frame was securely bolted to the dock floor below, and large slings were strung from one side of the frame to the other, allowing ships to come to rest on them. Then, once the ship came to a rest on these slings, the frame housed a mechanism that elevated the ship to the proper height so that walkways could then extend themselves to the ship’s airlocks. Not that they really needed airlocks, because the dockyard had a fully breathable atmosphere. Before ships could dock, they had to go through a giant airlock and then navigate to their assigned dock using maneuvering thrusters. This remarkable dockyard was capable of accommodating nearly any ship commercially available, except for mega-freighters, which were considered capital class ships.

  As they neared the R.E.S. Choyo the gator slowed down, and when the emergency hatch came into view in the distance ahead of them, the boatswain brought it to a stop. The Marines leapt out, and quickly formed a perimeter while Tasha and Commander Schultz disembarked.

  “Wait for us here, unless you are in danger of being discovered.” Commander Schultz ordered the driver as the others dismounted the vehicle. Jumping down off the gator, the Commander muted his external microphone on his helmet and ordered Corporal Wittaker to put a man on point. A second later, PFC Grobnak moved towards the emergency hatch on the R.E.S. Choyo. Waiting about thirty seconds, Commander Schultz followed in the direction Grobnak had walked, towards the emergency hatch. Grobnak was about five yards beyond the emergency hatch when the rest of the team arrived.

  “Serms, breach. Delgato, rear.” Corporal Wittaker ordered. Serms moved towards the emergency hatch, and Delgato moved back a ways in the direction they came from, taking a knee and scanning for hostiles. Corporal Wittaker joined Serms, and covered the hatch while he applied a kind of putty around the hinges of the emergency hatch. Unlike normal doors, emergency hatches were hinged rather than powered, and secured by a latch reminiscent of the old naval ships of earth. This was because there were fewer things that could keep a hatch from opening than could a traditional powered door. The downside is that a well-placed corrosive agent could usually breach an emergency hatch with making little or no sound.

  In a few short moments the putty began emitting a stench and smoking as it ate its way through the metal while Serms prepared to support the freed weight of the emergency hatch, which promptly fell into his arms. Corporal Wittaker, still covering the now open emergency hatch with his subrail gun, knelt down on one knee, positioning his other leg below the emergency hatch, providing Serms a temporary step, which he used to climb up into the ship.

  “Clear.” Serms husky voice sounded loud in Corporal Wittaker’s ear.

  “Delgato, then-” Corporal Wittaker’s voice cut off and Commander Schultz took the initiative, using Wittaker’s knee to climb up t
hrough the hatch to join Serms. Irritated, Corporal resumed his orders, “Then Altihkova, and Grobnak.” Delgato moved, followed quickly by the rest of the team. The corporal entered last, pulled up by Lance Corporal Serms.

  Opening a private channel to Commander Schultz, Corporal Wittaker said, “Sir, do you want to leave one of the men behind to secure this hatch? We could use it as a point of egress.” He saw the commander shake his helmeted head.

  “No. We may not come back this way.” Commander Schultz replied. Switching to the general coms channel, the Commander ordered, “Alright, let’s go.” Grobnak again took point, though the team’s spacing was much tighter now. They quickly and quietly made their way through the Choyo’s corridors and up a maintenance ladder to the deck where the secondary data ops center was located.

  “Stop.” Grobnak’s voice sounded hushed. Tasha could see Grobnak standing at a corner, using a small flexcam to peek around the corner. “Patrolling guard, coming our way.”

  “Take him quietly.” Commander Schultz replied. Grobnak grunted, and let his subrail rest by its harness attached to his armor as he slid out a large knife easily as long as the big man’s forearm, though it looked of average size in Grobnak’s large hand. Tasha was could hear the boots of the guard approaching, and just as he came into view, Grobnak lunged, thrusting the point of his knife forcefully into the man’s throat, severing artery and windpipe simultaneously while Grobnak’s other arm grasped the man’s sidearm which was still in its holster, blocking the guard’s frantic attempts to draw it as the force of Grobnak’s attack, as well as Grobnak himself, pinned the man against the corridor wall. The man thrashed, trying to free himself and fight back, but only succeeded in tearing open his wound further as Grobnak’s knife, still embedded in the guard's throat, slid against bone. In a few moments, it was done. Grobnak let the dead guard slide to the ground, and withdrew his knife. Turning briefly back towards the rest of the team, Tasha could see the guard’s blood all over the front of Grobnak’s armor and helmet. Withdrawing a dark cloth from a pouch on his combat harness, Grobnak wiped his helmet clean and continued on, taking point once gain. Tasha’s face grew pale, and she felt a little shaky. Afraid she might throw up, she slipped her helmet off, and put a hand on the wall to steady herself.

  “Shake it off, Lieutenant Commander. We have a job to do.” Commander Schultz’s voice growled, loud enough to be heard through the coms system of Tasha’s removed helmet. The moment passing, Tasha nodded once to the Commander and pulled on her helmet again, feeling a little embarrassed at her momenet of weakness.

  “Prostite.” Tasha apologized.

  “No need to apologize. Everyone reacts differently the first time in combat. You’re doing better than I expected.” Commander Schultz replied. “Let’s move.” He said to the others. After a few moments, the Commander opened a private channel to Tasha.

  “Don’t worry about it. The first time I saw a man killed in such close quarters, I couldn’t get my helmet off in time. The rest of the mission I was stuck smelling the remnants of what I ate just before the mission, and the smell lingered for days.” Commander Schultz said. Tasha gave the Commander a shaky chuckle, feeling better.

  As they moved through the deck, they had to stop two more times to avoid more patrolling guards. Grobnak stopped at a corner near where the door to the secondary data ops was, and again used his flexcam to see around the corner. After a moment, his voice came over the general coms channel.

  “Two guards. Rejai Special Forces by the look of them. These guys aren’t a part of the ship’s normal compliment.” Grobnak reported, then hesitated a moment before adding, “Something doesn’t feel right.” Usually, a ship is manned by a compliment of military or naval personnel dedicated to the ship’s security. This was in addition to any military personnel being transported to conduct military operations. If these Rejaian soldiers weren’t part of the ship’s normal compliment, that meant there were more Special Forces personnel hanging around somewhere.

  “Let me see.” Commander Schultz requested. Grobnak again inched his flexcam around the corner while the Commander patched into Grobnak’s video feed. He recognized the equipment of the guards instantly. They wore body armor that was black, a style used only by Rejai Special Forces, and both held assault rifles, which looked to fire flechettes. The flechettes Rejai Special Forces used depended on the situation. Sometimes they were made to easily break apart on impact, delivering explosive impact, which had a far deadlier affect on infantry than a solid flechette that would merely go through the body, often making a fist-sized crater in armor and flesh alike. Many times, even if an explosive flechette did not penetrate the armor, the concussion was sometimes enough to cause internal bleeding. Likewise, they had other kinds of ammo that delivered different payloads, depending on the situation. On board a ship, regardless of whether or not it is docked, Commander Schultz knew that they likely had ammo that fragmented on impact, so that if they missed their target, it would not puncture a hole in the bulkhead.

  “Nothing we can do. We need to take them out.” Commander Schultz sighed. He had hoped to already be in the room and have Tasha doing her thing before they were discovered, but since these guards were armored, they could not use their knives to take them out quietly. “Corporal, let’s hit them hard and fast.” Corporal Wittaker signaled Serms with his hand to follow him as he moved to join Grobnak at the corner. Behind them, Delgato dropped back even further, hugged the wall and took a knee, covering the rear approach. The silence was split with the muffled chatter of subsonic rounds as Grobnak moved his large frame swiftly around the corner, firing. Following him, Serms fanned out to the right of Grobnak, firing at the second guard. One guard went down immediately, a three round burst penetrating his helmet, but the other guard was screaming into his helmet’s coms as he hit the deck and brought his rifle around, firing. The guard’s assault rifle was on full auto, and Serms was thrown back as he took a burst directly to his chest, slid a few feet, and did not move. Swinging wide and jumping over Serms, Corporal Wittaker fired a three round burst from his subsonic gun, sending oval metal slugs into the remaining guard’s helmet. In less than five seconds, it was done, but it was already too late. Alarm klaxons rang throughout the ship.

  Commander Schultz brought up the medical readouts of Lance Corporal Serms. He was still alive. Corporal Wittaker bent down to check the Lance Corporal’s armor, as Serms began to weakly move and noticed that, while his armor looked a bit worse for wear, it had done its job.

  “Get up, Marine!” The Corporal roared over the alarm Klaxons. Grabbing Serms and hoisting him up by his armor, Corporal Wittaker steadied the injured Serms while he regained his balance. His armor showed impact craters where the flechettes had hit him. Serm’s groan could be heard over the coms as he steadied himself by placing a hand on the wall. “My chest is going to be bruised for a week.” He complained.

  “Bruised is not dead! Move it, Marine!” The Corporal ordered, indicating the now unguarded door. Moving stiffly at first, and then with greater ease as he walked off his injury, Serms pulled out his corrosive putty and began placing it in a ring around the door. It was faster than trying to hack the door control, which only opened the door in response to a RFID chip of someone that had been given access to the room. A few moments later, Serms grunted as gave the door a good kick, launching it a few feet into the room with a loud clang.

  “It’s open!” Serms yelled, then disappeared inside the room. After a moment he yelled, “Clear!”

  “Tasha, you’re up.” Schultz prompted. Delgato had come up from the rear and entered the room with Tasha and the Commander as Corporal Wittaker positioned Grobnak at one end of the hallway outside of the secondary server room, and took position himself at the other end. Serms was positioned at the door, waiting to reinforce either position.

  Tasha moved quickly to the server console, and plugged in her special communications pack, which consisted of hardware that stored a variety of algorithms and prog
rams that would help in code breaking and breaching security. After plugging in, the HUD on the inside of her helmet changed, providing readouts and other information relevant to the task at hand as she went to work in trying to breach the server’s security. She ignored the beads of sweat running down her face, her helmet’s small fan and cooling system working overtime trying to cool her down, and pushed down the nausea that still threatened to make her try and empty her stomach again. Almost with relief, she sank into the familiar territory shown to her on her HUD as code fragments and other information quietly lit up the inside of her helmet. She was so absorbed in what she was doing that she flinched at the sudden sound of gunfire from Grobnak’s end of the hall. The enemy had found them.

  “Sir, I have a Special Forces fire team!” Grobnak yelled. There was a muffled explosion that made the entire deck tremble so violently that Tasha’s HUD flickered a moment before growing steady again, and Tasha shook her head, and tried to focus again. She was past the logon security encryption, and was now flicking through server directories trying to decipher their naming standards so she could ascertain where their logs might be held. There were so many directories!

  “Serms, support Grobnak! My corridor is clear!” ordered Corporal Wittaker.

  “Aye Aye, supporting Grobnak!” Serms acknowledged