Some time ago the good folks on the Chrons were kind enough to critique a military SF tale The Long Night Of Wilhelm Reich, which is now the first of five 'Sergeant Cooper' stories (in total about 130k words). I'm revisiting the earlier narratives and felt this one, which originally started aboard the derelict, suffered from too much retrospection on the part of the Sarge to establish context.
Hence this, a new opening chapter. I'm conscious of straying towards infodump in places so any comments and suggestions are, as always, gratefully received;
* * *
“Sergeant Cooper? We got a visual, if you’re interested.”
I wasn’t, not really, but made my way forward into the already cramped cockpit anyway. All I could see out there was the Great Nebula; a multi-coloured, interstellar backdrop that gave me a headache. There was a radar contact but I couldn’t translate it into a visual fix.
Henderson adjusted our heading slightly. “Dead ahead, Sarge. Looks a bit like an elongated dumbbell.”
That it did; I got a lock on the skinny off-white shape against an expanse of red-hued dust. “Still nothing?”
The pilot shrugged, or as much as his seat harness would allow. “No radio contact, no distress beacon, just the standard transponder signal. You want I should try and raise them again?”
I scratched my nose through the open visor of my suit. “Nah, if there was anyone able to answer they’d have done so by now.”
I don’t like rescue missions, I’m not a rescue mission kind of guy. I’ve done everything from walking the line to orbital assault but this set-up really set my teeth on edge. The Sookin Sin, a ****-can colonist transport out of Tigris, wasn’t talking no more. So some public relations guru back at Command Interstellar decided to send in the Marines on a feel-good rescue mission with publicity potential. They wanted pictures of smiling, grateful colonists to counter samizdat vid of us breaking down doors and hauling terrified civilians away for interrogation. At least being out here was a break from the pacification effort on Leander, Bane and half-a-dozen other frontier worlds that were giving us ****.
We’d hauled-ass from Nebula Gateway and after thirteen hours aboard a cramped scout ship even my legendary good humour was wearing a bit thin. Our back-up was Persephone, a Marine Support Tender with enough carrying capacity to evac everyone aboard the Sookin Sin if need be, but she was way behind us. Ionised radiation from the nebula had fritzed our comms, meaning we were pretty much on our own for now.
Harper, the flight engineer, had his face pressed against the double eyepiece sensor feed. “I got her on high-def, Sarge. No sign of damage, no cloud of ice crystals like you’d get from a major atmosphere breech. I got navigation lights, internal power – everything looks hunky-dory.” He looked up at me. “You figure it for a bunch of crazies?”
I chewed that over for a moment. Occasionally colonists couldn’t take to space travel, especially given the conditions aboard a no-frills transport like the Sookin Sin. Claustrophobia, cabin fever, space psychosis - call it what you want, but some individuals just went nuts. However I didn’t want to create an atmosphere where my guys went in trigger-happy. Well, more trigger-happy than usual. “Don’t see how they could kill everyone, Harper, unless it was some kind of mass hysteria. Command may want us to come over all touchy-feely when dealing with civilians, but I’m taking no chances.”
Harper grinned. “What, we come in peace but shoot to kill?”
“I didn’t hear that, Marine. Reasonable force, remember?”
He just laughed.
The Sookin Sin was now clearly visible, still on the same heading as when she’d dropped in-system. Another couple of days and she’d reach the nearest dust cloud, the edge of the nebula, and every fly-boy I’d spoken to would think twice before going in after her. The Great Nebula had a bad rep; ships went in, not all of them came out. It didn’t matter if they were commercial, scientific or military, the loss rate stayed pretty much constant. Still, not my problem – and Command had promised us an ‘easy in, easy out’ mission in lieu of shore leave.
Henderson adjusted our approach so as to circle the other ship. “Where you want us to dock, Sarge?” I got port and starboard airlocks forward, dorsal towards the stern, emergency access via Engineering.”
I frowned. “We got schematics for this junker?”
Harper punched it up on a monitor. “Generic for its class, boss, but I don’t see an outfit like FarFreight spending anything on customisation.”
The plans showed Bridge, crew quarters and cargo holds forward, Engineering aft, connected by a long central spine supporting the cargo cells – or in this case, accommodation modules. “OK, go for dorsal - it’ll make it easier to sweep the ship if need be. I’ll go brief the guys.” I returned to the passenger compartment where the remainder of my squad sat in various degrees of discomfort. The scout didn’t have artificial gravity so we’d spent the trip strapped in, bored and bitching. Even the usual profane banter had died away, which was always a bad sign.
I hung on a handhold. “Right, you sorry bunch of jarheads, listen up! We’re about to board a ship carrying some four hundred passengers and crew. If it’s a technical snafu they may well be panicky after all this time adrift, if not out-and-out crazy. So we’ll send in a rem-cam first and I’ll order everyone to keep back from the airlock. The last thing we need is a bunch of civilians trying to fight their way on board us. Right, Baz, Hooker you’re on point. Stow your hardware and take sandbaggers.”
Baz scowled. “What’s with the non-lethal ****, Sarge? An assault rifle will make them back off just the same and if they do riot then dropping one or two ain’t gonna’ save our ass.”
Hooker nodded. “Tell it like it is, bro.”
I held up a hand. “I hear ya’, Marine, I surely do, but we can’t afford any casualties on this one. If it goes bad we’ll dump concussion grenades in to the corridor as crowd control. You’ll be safe enough in your suits and it’ll buy time for the rest of us to back you up. OK, we follow up in pairs. Me and Dax, Tommo and Frazer, Hughes and Grozny.”
Grozny usually carried the squad support weapon – a multi-barrelled minigun that could probably cut the Sookin Sin in half, given enough ammo – but was currently outfitted as a corpsman. He was a big guy and even with his Red Cross armband and carrying medical supplies he still looked like someone who’d send you to hospital, not take you there. The squad grumbled in acknowledgment and started prepping for action.
Harrison called from the cockpit. “Thirty seconds, Sarge!” G-forces made my guts flip as the ship spun and set down against the transport. I felt rather than heard the magnetic locks engage. Engine noise died away. “Solid seal, green light. I’m reading atmosphere and gravity aboard the other ship.”
Baz pulled the heavy deck hatch open and I tossed the spherical remote camera into the short tunnel between our ships. It bobbed in its own gravity web as we closed up and waited for the inner door to open. My suit didn’t support a direct audio-visual feed with the remote so I had to use a control pad, my hands clumsy in the armoured gauntlets. The small screen showed a swirl of movement as the rem-cam re-orientated itself, then steadied to show – an empty corridor. Central Access ran the length of the ship’s spine, and it was deserted. I panned 360 and there was still zip. The lights were on but, like they say, there was no-one home. All I scoped were a few discarded personal items – a shoe, a child’s toy, a reading pad. There was no sign of damage or fighting and no hint of what had happened to the passengers and crew.
Maybe the smart move would have been to sit back and rely on electronic scouting, but I’ll take men over remotes any day. “OK, squad, listen up. The good news is there’s no reception committee. The bad news is-”
“There’s no reception committee?” Dax sounded wary. “What, no-one?”
“Yup. Could be they’ve been told to stay in their modules, I guess, but at least one of the crew should have been here for the meet-and-greet.” I scratched my chin, “Naw, this don’t sit right. Baz, Hooker, get tooled up. Grozny, ditch that medical **** and break out the heavy hardware.”
Hooper grinned. “Now you’re talking, Sarge.”
I nodded. “Right, same pairs as before. We’re going in about two-thirds of the way down the central spine. Me and Dax will take Engineering. Baz, Hooker, Tommo, Frazer – check out the cargo bays and crew quarters in the bow before securing the Bridge. I don’t want no nasty surprises if we have to isolate the forward section. Hughes, Grozny – hold the central corridor until Dax and I are finished aft. Everyone got that?” Nods and more grumbling. “Right, open up and start climbing through. This is being recorded so safeties on, boys – and remember to smile.”
Hence this, a new opening chapter. I'm conscious of straying towards infodump in places so any comments and suggestions are, as always, gratefully received;
* * *
“Sergeant Cooper? We got a visual, if you’re interested.”
I wasn’t, not really, but made my way forward into the already cramped cockpit anyway. All I could see out there was the Great Nebula; a multi-coloured, interstellar backdrop that gave me a headache. There was a radar contact but I couldn’t translate it into a visual fix.
Henderson adjusted our heading slightly. “Dead ahead, Sarge. Looks a bit like an elongated dumbbell.”
That it did; I got a lock on the skinny off-white shape against an expanse of red-hued dust. “Still nothing?”
The pilot shrugged, or as much as his seat harness would allow. “No radio contact, no distress beacon, just the standard transponder signal. You want I should try and raise them again?”
I scratched my nose through the open visor of my suit. “Nah, if there was anyone able to answer they’d have done so by now.”
I don’t like rescue missions, I’m not a rescue mission kind of guy. I’ve done everything from walking the line to orbital assault but this set-up really set my teeth on edge. The Sookin Sin, a ****-can colonist transport out of Tigris, wasn’t talking no more. So some public relations guru back at Command Interstellar decided to send in the Marines on a feel-good rescue mission with publicity potential. They wanted pictures of smiling, grateful colonists to counter samizdat vid of us breaking down doors and hauling terrified civilians away for interrogation. At least being out here was a break from the pacification effort on Leander, Bane and half-a-dozen other frontier worlds that were giving us ****.
We’d hauled-ass from Nebula Gateway and after thirteen hours aboard a cramped scout ship even my legendary good humour was wearing a bit thin. Our back-up was Persephone, a Marine Support Tender with enough carrying capacity to evac everyone aboard the Sookin Sin if need be, but she was way behind us. Ionised radiation from the nebula had fritzed our comms, meaning we were pretty much on our own for now.
Harper, the flight engineer, had his face pressed against the double eyepiece sensor feed. “I got her on high-def, Sarge. No sign of damage, no cloud of ice crystals like you’d get from a major atmosphere breech. I got navigation lights, internal power – everything looks hunky-dory.” He looked up at me. “You figure it for a bunch of crazies?”
I chewed that over for a moment. Occasionally colonists couldn’t take to space travel, especially given the conditions aboard a no-frills transport like the Sookin Sin. Claustrophobia, cabin fever, space psychosis - call it what you want, but some individuals just went nuts. However I didn’t want to create an atmosphere where my guys went in trigger-happy. Well, more trigger-happy than usual. “Don’t see how they could kill everyone, Harper, unless it was some kind of mass hysteria. Command may want us to come over all touchy-feely when dealing with civilians, but I’m taking no chances.”
Harper grinned. “What, we come in peace but shoot to kill?”
“I didn’t hear that, Marine. Reasonable force, remember?”
He just laughed.
The Sookin Sin was now clearly visible, still on the same heading as when she’d dropped in-system. Another couple of days and she’d reach the nearest dust cloud, the edge of the nebula, and every fly-boy I’d spoken to would think twice before going in after her. The Great Nebula had a bad rep; ships went in, not all of them came out. It didn’t matter if they were commercial, scientific or military, the loss rate stayed pretty much constant. Still, not my problem – and Command had promised us an ‘easy in, easy out’ mission in lieu of shore leave.
Henderson adjusted our approach so as to circle the other ship. “Where you want us to dock, Sarge?” I got port and starboard airlocks forward, dorsal towards the stern, emergency access via Engineering.”
I frowned. “We got schematics for this junker?”
Harper punched it up on a monitor. “Generic for its class, boss, but I don’t see an outfit like FarFreight spending anything on customisation.”
The plans showed Bridge, crew quarters and cargo holds forward, Engineering aft, connected by a long central spine supporting the cargo cells – or in this case, accommodation modules. “OK, go for dorsal - it’ll make it easier to sweep the ship if need be. I’ll go brief the guys.” I returned to the passenger compartment where the remainder of my squad sat in various degrees of discomfort. The scout didn’t have artificial gravity so we’d spent the trip strapped in, bored and bitching. Even the usual profane banter had died away, which was always a bad sign.
I hung on a handhold. “Right, you sorry bunch of jarheads, listen up! We’re about to board a ship carrying some four hundred passengers and crew. If it’s a technical snafu they may well be panicky after all this time adrift, if not out-and-out crazy. So we’ll send in a rem-cam first and I’ll order everyone to keep back from the airlock. The last thing we need is a bunch of civilians trying to fight their way on board us. Right, Baz, Hooker you’re on point. Stow your hardware and take sandbaggers.”
Baz scowled. “What’s with the non-lethal ****, Sarge? An assault rifle will make them back off just the same and if they do riot then dropping one or two ain’t gonna’ save our ass.”
Hooker nodded. “Tell it like it is, bro.”
I held up a hand. “I hear ya’, Marine, I surely do, but we can’t afford any casualties on this one. If it goes bad we’ll dump concussion grenades in to the corridor as crowd control. You’ll be safe enough in your suits and it’ll buy time for the rest of us to back you up. OK, we follow up in pairs. Me and Dax, Tommo and Frazer, Hughes and Grozny.”
Grozny usually carried the squad support weapon – a multi-barrelled minigun that could probably cut the Sookin Sin in half, given enough ammo – but was currently outfitted as a corpsman. He was a big guy and even with his Red Cross armband and carrying medical supplies he still looked like someone who’d send you to hospital, not take you there. The squad grumbled in acknowledgment and started prepping for action.
Harrison called from the cockpit. “Thirty seconds, Sarge!” G-forces made my guts flip as the ship spun and set down against the transport. I felt rather than heard the magnetic locks engage. Engine noise died away. “Solid seal, green light. I’m reading atmosphere and gravity aboard the other ship.”
Baz pulled the heavy deck hatch open and I tossed the spherical remote camera into the short tunnel between our ships. It bobbed in its own gravity web as we closed up and waited for the inner door to open. My suit didn’t support a direct audio-visual feed with the remote so I had to use a control pad, my hands clumsy in the armoured gauntlets. The small screen showed a swirl of movement as the rem-cam re-orientated itself, then steadied to show – an empty corridor. Central Access ran the length of the ship’s spine, and it was deserted. I panned 360 and there was still zip. The lights were on but, like they say, there was no-one home. All I scoped were a few discarded personal items – a shoe, a child’s toy, a reading pad. There was no sign of damage or fighting and no hint of what had happened to the passengers and crew.
Maybe the smart move would have been to sit back and rely on electronic scouting, but I’ll take men over remotes any day. “OK, squad, listen up. The good news is there’s no reception committee. The bad news is-”
“There’s no reception committee?” Dax sounded wary. “What, no-one?”
“Yup. Could be they’ve been told to stay in their modules, I guess, but at least one of the crew should have been here for the meet-and-greet.” I scratched my chin, “Naw, this don’t sit right. Baz, Hooker, get tooled up. Grozny, ditch that medical **** and break out the heavy hardware.”
Hooper grinned. “Now you’re talking, Sarge.”
I nodded. “Right, same pairs as before. We’re going in about two-thirds of the way down the central spine. Me and Dax will take Engineering. Baz, Hooker, Tommo, Frazer – check out the cargo bays and crew quarters in the bow before securing the Bridge. I don’t want no nasty surprises if we have to isolate the forward section. Hughes, Grozny – hold the central corridor until Dax and I are finished aft. Everyone got that?” Nods and more grumbling. “Right, open up and start climbing through. This is being recorded so safeties on, boys – and remember to smile.”
