The Search for Gram Read online

  “Okay, I guess that makes sense. How can I help you?”

  “Oh, you can’t help me,” replied the lieutenant, his eyes jumping up to Calvin’s in his surprise. They quickly fled back down when eye contact was made. “Actually, I’m here to help you. I’m talking with all of the senior officers onboard to find out if there is anything you need. If there is a piece of gear or a capability you are lacking, I will get it produced for you.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know; that’s why I’m asking. This is my first time in space, and I only have a limited idea of what you have, much less what you might need. For example, the ship’s commanding officer said that we don’t have any way to communicate down the stargate chain once we proceed on our mission. I found out there are Aesir missiles that can fly back and report what we are doing so I got a few made. They’re pretty expensive, so we won’t have many, but if we get into trouble, it will give us the capability to transmit back to the nearest civilized planet so they know what happened to us.”

  “Hopefully we won’t have to use them,” noted Calvin, who had an aviator’s fear of jinxing the mission by talking about something bad happening ahead of time.

  “Uh, yeah…I mean…not that we’d need them,” said Lieutenant Bradford, his face turning red. “But if we happened to want to…um…report what we were doing, they, um, might come in handy.”

  “I know what you mean,” Calvin replied, taking pity on the lieutenant. “I saw a similar type of missile used by the Ssselipsssiss to call for help from the next star system over on our first mission. Gee, it seems like that was about 10 years ago.”

  “It will be two years ago next week,” said Bradford, looking at his watch to confirm the date.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I reviewed the mission logs from all of your past missions, and I have always had a very good memory, even before I got implants.” He paused and then asked, “Is there anything you need?”

  “Not at the moment,” said Calvin, “but if there is, I’ll let you know.”

  Bradford looked up and met Calvin’s eyes. This time, he didn’t shy away. “If you need something, I will get it for you.”

  Combat Training Range, Grrrnow, 61 Virginis, May 18, 2021

  Calvin surveyed the mountaintop from his observer position in an elevated stand 100 yards away. The two squads of his platoon were playing “Capture the Flag” to help integrate the new soldiers they had received. The squads were in combat with each other, but were without their officers and senior enlisted, who were in the observers’ stand watching the evolution. The Ground Force, also known as “Bravo Squad,” was defending the flag from the Space Force, or “Alpha Squad.” Calvin frowned as he consulted his in-head display. “Where is your new cyborg?” he finally asked.

  The cyborg conversion was one of the “benefits” of the new technology the Terrans received from the Psiclopes. The process saved a human brain by putting it into a robot body. Cyborg troopers were able to wield a huge variety of powerful weapons…if they weren’t driven crazy by the conversion process first.

  The Ground Force’s new leader, Master Gunnery Sergeant Bob ‘Mongo’ Bryant, laughed. “Can’t find him, sir? He’s right there.”

  “I see where he is on the display,” Calvin replied, “but I’ll be damned if I see him. My display shows him next to the flag on top of the hill. He must be camouflaged, but his suit’s camouflage is better than any of the other suits I’ve ever seen. I would have expected to see a shimmer or something, but it’s as if he isn’t there.”

  “He’s not,” said Mongo, scanning down the back of the hillside to check the rest of his squad’s positioning.

  “What do you mean?” asked Calvin.

  “Our squad’s new cyborg, Corporal Patrick Harris, is from Domus. He was a miner, until the day that the mine caved in on him. The cyborg conversion gave him a new lease on life. Still, he’s lived most of his life in confined places, and he’s comfortable in a hole. We dug a hole and stuck him in it. You can’t see him because he isn’t there.”

  “Wait, he’s from Domus?” asked Calvin. The planet Domus had joined the Republic of Terra the year before. “I thought all of the new recruits were from Terra.”

  “No, sir. ‘Tanker’ Harris is from Domus. We had to take a cyborg from Domus since the Terran cyborg conversion program is on hold.”

  “What?” asked Calvin. “Why is it on hold? Lack of volunteers?”

  “No, sir. Actually, it’s just the opposite. All the warriors who got mangled in Iraq and Afghanistan are asking to come back in as cyborgs. It isn’t so much a matter of finding people to turn into cyborgs as it is to find the right people to do it to. It’s a mess.”

  Calvin raised an eyebrow.

  “Why’s it a mess?” asked Captain Paul “Night” Train, the unit’s executive officer, or second in command.

  “It’s a mess because anyone with a psych degree is trying to get their noses into the selection process. The Navy’s Bureau of Medicine is vying with the Army’s Office of the Surgeon General and the Air Force’s Medical Support Agency. They all think they can get a bigger stake in the new Combined Forces’ Medical Bureau if they’re seen as the experts. When you throw in the other countries’ experts, the public sector folks who are looking to make a buck, and all of the people who want conversion for non-military uses…” He let the sentence trail off for a moment before finishing, “It’s a mess.”

  “I see,” said Calvin. “Now that the war’s over, it’s back to fighting amongst ourselves for a bigger piece of the pie?”

  “Pretty much,” Mongo agreed. “The two cyborgs we got from Earth, Sergeant Nelson and Sergeant Graham, will be the last two we get until they figure it out.”

  “If the process is so screwed up, how did they pick these two?” asked Night.

  “George Nelson on Alpha Squad was easy. He was picked on his combat record in the Sandbox. He did three tours of duty in the ‘Stans, picking up a Silver Star for valor, a Bronze Star for heroism and three Purple Hearts before finally stepping on the mine that got him.”

  “Sounds like he leads from the front,” said Night. “My kind of guy.” The leaders stopped to watch the troopers sneaking closer to the flag. It appeared undefended, which had all of them on edge.

  “Sergeant Adeline Graham is a bit more…interesting,” continued Mongo.

  “Oh?” asked Calvin. “How so?” The squad had stopped at the tree line, and its members were looking at the last 50 yards up the hill to the flag. Only a layer of brush bearing some sort of orange berry separated them.

  “Her background is a little more unconventional,” said Mongo. “She was a history and classics major before going into the Canadian military. Sergeant Graham was taken by the indigenous forces during a peacekeeping mission in Africa. German Special Forces troopers got most of her back, but it wasn’t pretty. Still, she survived and was a national hero; when she asked for the conversion, the Canadian government pushed hard and got it for her.”

  Calvin dialed up the comm frequency being used by the Space Force.

  “I gotta bad feeling about ‘dis, mon,” commed Sergeant Margaret ‘Witch’ Andrews. The Jamaican woman was a voodoo practitioner, among other things, and had an acute sense of impending danger. “I not be getting any readings, mon, and I know I don’t much wanna be walkin’ up dat hill.”

  “Me, neither,” said Gunnery Sergeant Patrick Dantone. He knew from long experience to trust her feelings, but didn’t see any other alternative. “We’ll go up in force,” the cyborg finally said, “and meet whatever’s waiting for us with overwhelming firepower. Fire Teams #2 and #3, keep your eyes out behind us; they’re probably going to hit us here.”

  “Roger that,” chorused Sergeant Jones and Sergeant Tereshchenko, the two fire team leaders.

  “Move out!” ordered Gunnery Sergeant Dantone.

  The squad started forward, nerves on edge, but only made it as far as the bushes before the comm
net came alive.

  “Ouch!” “Damn it, Gunny, this shit hurts!” “Son of a bitch!” “FUCK!”

  “Why’d they stop?” asked Calvin.

  Mongo gave a predator’s smile. “I guess you haven’t seen those bushes up close, have you, sir?” When Calvin shook his head, Mongo continued. “The Mrowry call them hell bushes. The thorns on them have a toxin that burns like hell. When the squad was setting up, they found out the thorns were so sharp they could even penetrate our combat suits. The Mrowry have eradicated them all across the planet, except for here on this range. The Mrowry who end up in the bushes are usually out of the battle for a good week afterward. Those bushes suck.”

  As the leaders watched, the unity of Alpha Squad’s advance was broken up as they each tried to find a way through the thorns, with only limited success.

  “One of the benefits of having a history major in your squad,” noted Mongo, “is that history majors know history. Sergeant Graham set up what’s about to happen based on Hannibal’s victory at the Battle of Trebia River.”

  All of Alpha Squad’s troops were struggling with the hell bushes when Bravo Squad hit them from the left with a barrage of range grenades. Built to simulate the flight characteristics of the Terran antimatter grenades, they detonated with a flash although they did no real damage. Casualties were determined by the combat range’s computer system, which had been fed the information on the Terran weapon systems’ capabilities.

  Alpha Squad instinctively reacted to the sudden onslaught by throwing themselves to the ground, which for about half of them meant throwing themselves into the hell bushes. Screams filled their comm network as the hell bush spines penetrated their suits. Calvin’s suit showed five of Alpha Squad already rated as “killed” by the Mrowry computer system, including Sergeant Nelson, who was the target of three grenades. Judging by what Calvin heard on Alpha Squad’s comm net, many more wished they actually were dead as the hell bush toxins ran through their systems. Calvin could see most of the squad pulling antitoxins and analgesics from their suits’ pharmacopeia; judging by the traffic on the comms net, it didn’t seem to be helping.

  A Ranger long before his first trip off-planet, Gunnery Sergeant Dantone had trained his squad with tactics right out of the Ranger Handbook, and they responded to the ambush in the classic Ranger fashion. Without a word being spoken, his soldiers returned fire and threw smoke and concussion grenades. As they exploded, the remaining “live” members of Alpha Squad rose as one to assault through the ambush.

  Expecting that reaction, Master Gunnery Sergeant Bill Hendrick had positioned several of his men on the back side of the hill behind Corporal Harris, and they rose with him to fire down the length of Alpha Squad as it faced left. The withering fire killed another four soldiers before the rest could throw themselves back down into the hell bushes. Another round of screams came across the comm net.

  Alpha Squad grenadiers began firing into both ambush sites like there was no tomorrow. Calvin realized if they didn’t do something fast, there probably wouldn’t be. Although they had killed several of the ambushers so far, Alpha lost another two troops and was down to five.

  “Follow me!” commed Gunnery Sergeant Dantone, the squad’s only remaining cyborg. Before Bravo Squad could react, he rose to his feet and charged the second ambush. Lasers flashed off of his suit and several grenades burst nearby, but he made it to the ambush and began killing the members of Bravo, starting with the cyborg. The rest of Alpha made it to the ambush site as Dantone was put out of action, and he fell to the side. Seeing that the way was clear, the four remaining Alpha Squad members grabbed the flag and ran as fast as they could back down the hill.

  Just before they reached the tree line, a simulated .50 caliber sniper round hit Corporal Pat Burke, and his suit locked, throwing him forward to hydroplane face-first into a tree. As he crashed to a stop, one of his compatriots brought up his rifle, aimed and fired at the sniper, before turning and continuing his flight. Calvin saw the sniper, located on the next hill, jerk as if hit.

  “Who just shot the sniper?” asked Calvin.

  “Corporal Nicholas Tomaselli,” replied Master Chief Ryan O’Leary, the platoon’s senior enlisted member. “He’s one of the new guys. They call him ‘The Kid.’ He looks like he’s about 12, but he’s a natural shot. He’ll be going to sniper school when we get back. The range was too far for him to get a kill with the laser, but he was credited with wounding the sniper. It was a heck of a shot.”

  “Well, it looks like a few of your guys are going to get away,” said Night as the three remaining members of Alpha Squad made it to a gully that protected them from additional fire.

  “Not necessarily,” said Mongo. “The squad put together a plan in case anyone from Alpha made it to the gully. In fact, with two cyborgs on Alpha, my guys actually expected some of them to make it there.” He pointed to a trooper hiding at the end of the gully with his back to them. The soldier watched the other squad work its way down the gully through a video monitor. “The gully’s mined, and that trooper is watching via closed circuit TV. When they get in the kill zone, he’ll trigger the mines.”

  “Who is that?” asked Calvin. “I don’t recognize him.”

  Mongo consulted his suit’s roster and rolled his eyes. “Aw shit,” he said, “it’s the Cat.”

  “You don’t think he can do the job?” asked Master Chief.

  “That’s not it,” said Mongo. “Sergeant Rowntree is one of the best soldiers I know.”

  “If he’s so good,” said Master Chief, “what’s wrong with him being there?”

  Mongo shrugged. “His call sign is ‘Black Cat.’ Although he’s a great soldier, his abilities are countered by his bad luck. If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong...to him. He’s as good as he is because he’s always having to overcome some emergency or malfunction. I wouldn’t stand next to him in combat if I were you. You don’t want to be in the blast radius when his rifle blows up.”

  “Blast radius?” asked Master Chief. “These rifles won’t blow up unless you set them to.”

  “His will. If he went on a fishing trip, a sea monster would probably pop up and eat him. That’s how bad his luck is.”

  As Bravo Squad had planned, the remaining members of Alpha Squad were channeled into the gully Sergeant Rowntree was defending. Bravo Squad had laced the ravine with enough mines to knock out even the cyborgs if they were still operational. The platoon’s leaders could see Sergeant Rowntree, and they watched as he armed the mines. Before he could detonate them, there was a loud “crack,” and the plastic mount holding the video camera up in the tree broke. The monitor’s picture started spinning, and Sergeant Rowntree played with its dials, trying to get the picture to stabilize. Finally realizing that the problem was with the camera and not the monitor, the soldier looked up just in time for the camera to hit him in the face, knocking him out.

  The remains of Alpha Squad egressed the gully and made it to freedom.

  “Black Cat, huh?” asked Calvin.

  Mongo nodded. “They say cats have nine lives. I don’t know how many he has left, but it can’t be more than two or three.”

  Chapter 3

  Bridge, TSS Vella Gulf, Grrrnow, 61 Virginis, May 20, 2021

  “Five minutes to the Gliese 676 stargate,” reported the helmsman.

  “Good luck in your quest,” said Emperor Yazhak from the front view screen. “Remember, you promised to bring my fighters back without a scratch.”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Captain Sheppard.

  “I would also like it if you brought my grandson back in a similar condition,” the emperor added, looking over Captain Sheppard’s shoulder to where Lieutenant Rrower stood. As he had during the Vella Gulf’s previous mission, the Mrowry would serve as the ambassador for his civilization. In addition to his diplomatic status, he had also proven his skills in a number of other tasks, including fighting alongside the Gulf’s platoon of space marines when he was needed.

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sp; “I will do my best,” Captain Sheppard repeated. “Vella Gulf, out.” The screen went blank as he terminated the transmission. “Duty Engineer, sound General Quarters!” Captain Sheppard ordered.

  “Aye aye, sir!” said the engineer, who was seated next to the helmsman at the front console. Responsible for all of the damage control systems, he was also in charge of the General Quarters alarm. “Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!” sounded the bell. It was followed by the engineer’s call of “General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battle stations!” Setting General Quarters prior to transit was standard practice; the air crews also manned up all 12 of the ship’s space fighters. You never knew what was waiting on the other side of a stargate.

  “Helmsman, full speed to the stargate!” Captain Sheppard ordered. Under his breath he added, “Once more unto the breach.”

  Bridge, TSS Vella Gulf, HD 69830, May 30, 2021

  “Entry into the HD 69830 system,” said Steropes. The journey had taken 10 days, crossing through the systems of Gliese 676, Mu Arae and Epsilon Indi, but they had finally arrived at the Aesir’s home system. “HD 69830 is a yellow-orange dwarf star that has a mass of 86 percent of Sol’s, 89 percent of its diameter, and 45 percent of its luminosity. There are three large Neptune-like planets in the system that all lie fairly close to the star, with a large asteroid belt in between the orbits of the second and third planets.”

  “And this is the home system of the Aesir?” asked Captain Sheppard. “Which planet do they live on?”

  “None of them, actually,” replied Steropes. “The third planet, Asgard, has a mass of about 18 times that of Terra. Although the planet isn’t Earth-like, it does have a moon that is.”

  “The moon’s name is Golirion,” said Captain Nightsong, “That is our birth world.” He paused and then added, “It is good to be home.”