4
Harris was just getting his things together when Doc knocked on his door.
“The men have arrived and all pre-flight physicals have been completed,” Doc told him. “They’re waiting in the mess hall.”
“And the new recruits?”
“Confined to quarters until further orders.”
Harris nodded, “Good job, Doc.”
“Do you want me to go get them?” he asked.
“No,” Harris said firmly, “I want to have a quick word to the men first.”
“Yes, sir,” Doc nodded.
Harris headed for the door. His lieutenant stood aside as he passed, then the two of them walked down the corridor side by side.
“So, what’s your take on the new recruits?” Harris broke the silence.
Doc glanced at him. “They seem pretty good on file and they passed their physicals.”
Harris looked straight ahead. “So what’s your take on the new recruits?” he asked again.
Doc shot him another glance and shrugged. “They’re alright.”
Harris looked over at Doc, arching his eyebrow.
Doc elaborated. “There may be some teething issues,” he shrugged. “Some of the guys might get a little territorial and based on the new recruits’ personnel files, I’m sure they’ll stand their ground.”
“Mm-hmm,” Harris said unenthusiastically in agreement, as they arrived at the mess hall. “Ever wanted to be a fireman?” he asked Doc.
As he entered, the seven men gathered in the room stood and saluted. Harris walked over to the mess hall counter in front of them, while Doc stopped by the door.
“At ease, gentlemen,” he said firmly.
The men took their seats across the two rectangular tables and waited to be addressed. As Harris stood before them, he looked at each one, studying them as he always did, wondering what sort of leave they’d had, and whether they were ready for duty. He eyed Pete Smith, the young British guy, who was the comms tech and p-star of the ship. Jacob Hunter, the ship’s New Zealander pilot. Farris Carter, the South African smart-ass, but a good solid soldier nonetheless. James McKinley, a fellow American who was a good, hard soldier and one the others tended to follow, albeit probably out of fear. Marcus Louis, the strong, black Frenchman, who also happened to be an amazing cook. Alexander Bolkov, the Russian co-pilot, a man of few words, but whose huge size spoke volumes. And lastly, James-Jay Brown, a big, tough, African American tank, who not only knew his way around the Aurora’s engine, but also knew his way out of a fight.
For whatever reason, this team worked. Although Doc, Carter and McKinley had been on the Aurora the longest, Smith, the newest recruit, had still been here for a period of nine months. For nine whole months, he’d been building this team up to what it was, and there had been no change in this lineup. That was, until now.
“I take it you all enjoyed your leave?” Harris asked, making small talk.
“It was a little on the short side, captain,” McKinley answered. Being third in rank behind Doc, he often spoke on behalf of the men.
“Don’t I know it,” Harris said flatly.
“So why the rush to get us back then, captain?” Carter piped up in that strong South African accent of his. “Couldn’t the UNF survive without us?”
“Apparently not,” Harris answered. “I’ll brief you on our mission in just a moment. Firstly, I’ve got some news for you all.”
The men quickly glanced at each other, before Carter quipped, “You getting married, captain?!”
Some of the men sniggered.
Harris gave Carter a deadpan look. “We have three new recruits joining us for this mission, gentlemen.”
His soldiers looked at each other again, this time in surprise.
“New recruits, captain?” Hunter’s Kiwi accent piped up this time, as he crossed his arms defensively.
“We don’t need more men, captain,” McKinley said with a sly smile. “We’re already the best unit out there.” Carter laughed and held out his hand, and McKinley slapped it.
Harris waited a second. The men settled down and looked at him.
“There are no men joining us on this mission, gentlemen, but there will be three female soldiers added to our crew.”
“What?” Carter blurted out.
“Are you serious?” Louis’s French accent piped up.
Brown’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. Instead he glanced over at Doc then back at Harris.
“You’re pulling our leg, captain!” Carter continued.
Pete Smith laughed. “I guess I’m not the p-star anymore!”
Bolkov said nothing, but the look on his face was not impressed. McKinley just kept staring back at Harris, mirroring his captain’s deadpan face, although his eyes shone with curiosity.
Harris gave them a moment, but that was all they were getting. “You done?” he asked firmly. They quietened down.
“We have three new female recruits,” he spelled it out. “We are taking part in a test-case for the UNF. They are experienced soldiers. They will be joining us in just a moment and you will accept them into the team for this mission.”
The men sat in near silence for a moment, soaking it in, before Louis decided to speak up again. “So, captain … three women. This must mean Smith and I are no longer on kitchen duty, no?”
Smith chuckled.
Carter looked around. “Command must have decided to give us a little mobile R & R, gents, to make up for our leave being cut short, eh. They going to pour us drinks, captain? Do they offer a topless service?” he laughed, some of the others joining in.
Harris kept his face deadpan. “Gentlemen, I do not need to remind you how the UNF feels about discrimination or harassment of any kind, do I?”
“C’mon, captain,” McKinley began, “what the hell are three women going to do around here?”
“I suggest you have a conversation with them and find that out,” Harris retorted.
“So where are they sleeping?” Hunter piped up again.
“They can sleep in my room!” Carter answered. Laughter erupted.
“Yeah, right Carter, ’cause you the man!” Brown said sarcastically, cocking his head to the side, eyeing him.
“Hey, I do alright, Brownie!” Carter hissed back.
“This is a joke, captain, no?” Louis seemed to be trying to find a reason for the shock announcement.
Doc finally decided to speak up. “Guys, just give them a chance. You might be surprised.”
“You’ve met ’em?” McKinley’s fiery blue eyes shot accusingly across the room.
“Yes, I have,” Doc answered firmly.
“Well, Doc’s the one to ask, then!” Carter smiled. “How were their physicals, man?”
“Ooh, yes!” Louis smiled. “’Ow about their lung tests, Doc? Hmmm?” He held his hands out in front of his chest as though he were holding a large pair of breasts. The men started laughing, and Doc shook his head at them.
“No, they’re probably big beefy dykes!” Smith called out.
“Just ’ow you like them, Bulk, no?” Louis said, slapping the Russian on the back.
Bolkov snarled back at Louis.
Harris had had enough. He decided to end it.
“ENOUGH!” he bellowed. The men fell silent and paid him due attention. “These three soldiers will work alongside you, they will train with you, they will eat here in the mess with you, work out in the gym with you, stay down in the soldiers’ quarters with you. This is real. This is happening, and you will accept this. This is my order to you. Do you understand?”
There was a slight hesitation but Brown, Hunter, Smith and Bolkov answered, “Yes, sir.”
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” Harris shouted, looking directly at McKinley, Carter and Louis.
“Yes, sir,” they finally answered.
Harris stared them all down for a moment, then he turned to Doc. “Bring them in.”
*
Carrie, Packham and Colt had settled into their quarters, their gear unpacked into the small lockers standing against the wall outside their en suite. They each sat on their beds, while Packham began throwing a rubber ball into the air and catching it and Colt began sticking a few photos of her family up on the wall beside her bed. There was a photo of her parents, younger brother and sister, and a photo of her twin sister with her husband and their two little kids.
Carrie was staring at them. “I don’t see any eligible young bachelors there, Colt.”
“No,” Colt replied with a tinge of sadness to her voice, “he didn’t get into Space Duty, so he ended it.”
“He ended it?” Carrie asked, curious.
“I don’t know,” Colt shrugged. “Guess he couldn’t handle the fact that I was better than he was!” She flashed a grin at them.
Carrie and Packham laughed.
“Hey, I tell you what, that Doc is pretty fine for a white boy!” Colt said as she turned back around to them.
Packham gave a musical little laugh.
“You don’t think he’s cute?” Colt inquired, looking between the two of them.
Packham chuckled. “Yeah, he’s cute. He’s not my type though.”
“Oh, yeah. And what’s your type?” Colt asked her.
The sergeant shrugged. “I don’t know. Older, I guess.”
“Well, he’s older than you,” Colt replied.
“Ah, but not old enough.” Packham winked at her.
“You like them gray, huh?” Colt eyed her strangely, then looked down at Carrie. “What about you? Doc’s cute, right?”
“Me?” Carrie said, taken aback.
“Ooh, she’s not saying anything! Silence speaks louder than words, girlfriend.”
Carrie shrugged. “He’s alright,” she said nonchalantly.
“Alright? No, he’s pretty fine for a white boy,” she repeated, then looked at Packham. “Although he’s a little too white for me.”
They cracked up laughing.
“So you got a man?” Colt asked Carrie.
“No.” She shook her head.
“You?” she asked Packham.
Packham shook her head.
“Yeah, well, it’s pretty damn hard trying to keep one when you’re out in space, that’s for sure,” Colt continued as she put the last of her photos up. It was one of another young male, maybe early 20s.
“Who’s that?” Carrie asked
“That’s my brother, Malik.”
“The same one that’s in the other photo you just put up?”
“No, I have two brothers. Malik’s gone now, though. Stepped on a land mine in Africa on Earth Duty.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Carrie said softly. “You’d think they would’ve found them all by now.”
“Yeah. I nearly quit when he died, but for some reason I hung in there. I guess it comes with the territory,” she said softly, smoothing down the sides of the photo.
“How long ago?” Carrie asked curiously.
“Two years. February 14th, 2073. Can you believe it? Valentine’s Day. My mama sure got her heart broken that day, let me tell you.” Colt turned around and sat on the bed with her back against the wall. “Are you two putting up any pictures of your families?”
Carrie shook her head, “No. There’s only me and my dad left, anyway. My mum died when I was 14. I don’t have any siblings.”
“Oh,” Colt said sympathetically. It was probably hard for her to imagine life without a large bustling family around her. “What about you, Packham?”
The sergeant put the ball down and moved to the edge of the bunk. “I have an older sister and a younger brother. I speak to them occasionally. That’s about it. We’re not really that close.”
Colt nodded, mind ticking over, before she decided to change the subject. “So I wonder why they’re keeping us in here?”
Carrie nodded. “Strange, isn’t it?”
Packham seemed to think about this for a second and then burst out laughing. “We’ve probably been thrown onto a whaling ship!”
Carrie and Colt both looked at her puzzled.
“You know? A whaling ship. Full of sperm whales. Full of seamen? That’s what they call an all-male crew. There’s only about 40 percent of ships in Space Duty with female soldiers on them, and even then, they tend to place them on the cargo ships or docking stations, or they’re pilots like me that don’t really mix with the other crew. Hardcore mission work is still generally only handled by the guys on these whaling ships. Very few females get to do the really cool stuff. And this is a test case, right? So my guess is that they’ve put us on a whaling ship and they’re probably breaking it to the men as we speak.” She laughed again.
Colt stared at Packham oddly.
“Can you imagine their faces?” Packham said. “They’ll be so disappointed.”
“Or excited?” Colt added.
“So we can probably expect some grief then,” Carrie said.
Just then they heard a knock at the door. It was 1655.
“Briefing time, soldiers,” Doc called through door.
Colt opened the door and gave a nod to Doc, then turned and flashed the other two women a subtle, cheeky smile.
“Follow me, please,” Doc said, taking off down the corridor.
As they made their way down the corridor, Carrie wondered what Captain Harris must’ve told the men, preparing them for these three women who were about to walk in and break up their little group.
Arriving at the mess hall, Doc entered the room, followed by Packham, then Colt, and then Carrie who felt her heart racing a little. As she walked through the door, she heard Doc announce, “The new recruits, captain!”
As Packham and Colt moved in and to the left, they cleared a view for Carrie. She saw a group of soldiers sitting across two tables, sizing up each one of them as they walked in. Some were staring, some were glaring, and one or two cast a sleazy eye over them. Most did so with their arms folded across their chests.
Captain Harris also watched from over by the mess counter, but his face was hard to read. Doc moved to stand a few feet away from him, and the women lined up alongside. Carrie heard one of the men start laughing and mutter something, and she looked over to see a man with a strawberry blond crew cut cover his mouth, trying to stifle his amusement. This made a few of the other men smirk in response. Harris glared at the man and he jammed his lips together trying to stop. Carrie felt like the new student in school, forced to stand at the front of the class to be introduced as she had done many times as a child, as she and her mother moved about with her father’s Earth Duty career.
Harris walked over to the women, then looked back to the men. “Gentlemen, meet our new recruits!” he said firmly. “We have Corporal Carrie Welles, Corporal Sabrina Colt and Sergeant Sarah Packham.” He pointed to each of them in turn with his right hand. Then he raised his left arm and pointed toward the men. “New recruits,” he continued, “meet the rest of the team! In order of seniority, you’ve already met Doc, aka, First Lieutenant Daniel Walker.”
Doc gave them a nod.
“Then we have Second Lieutenant James McKinley …” Carrie noted he was a big guy with square shoulders and blond hair, who stared back at them with cold, blue, intimidating eyes.
“… and First Sergeant Farris Carter.” He was the strawberry blond who’d been laughing at them.
Harris continued. “First Sergeant Jacob Hunter …” He was a good-looking guy, with light brown hair and chiseled cheekbones. He looked a little arrogant, though, eyeing them as though they’d just told a bad joke.
“… Staff Sergeant Alexander Bolkov …” He looked a lot older than the others, and big and bulky. He didn’t bother looking at the women at all.
“… and Staff Sergeant James-Jay Brown.” He was, she assumed, an African American, large in size, who simply gave them a blank stare.
“Sergeant Marcus Louis …” He had dark skin, almost black, and was built like a weight lifter. He sat there smirking at them.
“… and Private First Class Pete Smith.” He was the youngest of the group, with blond hair, dark blue eyes and a youthful grin upon his face.
Harris dropped his arm and looked back at the women. “Take a seat, soldiers.”
The women fell out of line and took up seats at the tables, while Harris moved over to a keypad on the wall beside the mess counter and appeared to be logging into the ship’s systems. Carrie used the opportunity to study him more closely. She’d noted how tall he was at their first meeting, but she hadn’t quite realized how big his physique was until now. Judging by his arms alone, in the gray UNF T-shirt he wore, he looked strong, fit. He had the right physical attributes for a soldier, now she was curious to see what his leadership was like.
A screen suddenly descended from the ceiling over the mess counter. Displayed upon it was a satellite picture of the Earth’s solar system.
“Our mission, gentlemen … and ladies,” the captain caught himself, “is to head out to space station Z076, aka Station Darwin. It’s the most isolated space station we have, located off Mars and not far from The Belt.” He hit a button on the keypad, and the satellite zoomed in, giving a closer picture of the station’s location.
“Command lost comms with the station at approximately 0217 yesterday, September 19th,” Harris continued. “Six hours later, the automatic distress beacon triggered. Command has been attempting to make contact with the station, but has so far failed to get a response. So, it’s our job to head out there and find out what’s going on. Command are so far assuming that this is simply a technical malfunction and that the crew are fine, but there could be something very wrong. Fact is, we won’t know until we dock and board that station.”
He pressed another button and a picture of a man who looked to be in his mid-to-late 50s appeared on the screen. He had longish gray hair, dark brown eyes and a large angular nose. “This is Professor Ray Sharley. He heads up a team of eight at the station. From the limited information I have, I can say that they were working on various items of a technical and biological nature for the UNF. I can’t inform you about these items as it’s all classified, so your guess is as good as mine. To sum up, I don’t have a lot to tell you. We’re flying fairly blind on this one. Until we get there, we’ve got no idea what to expect. Could be nothing, could be something. Now, I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but are there any I can actually answer for you?”
Carrie watched as the men moved around slightly, taking it in. Brown eventually broke the silence.
“Captain, you say it’s a scientific station. Does this mean it’s filled with nutty professors or are there soldiers up there?”
A couple of the men chuckled.
“They are all members of the UNF, so they’ve been through the basic training, but they have scientific backgrounds. Their focus has always been on developing programs for the UNF, not fighting, not personal defense. So I guess my answer is, mainly nutty professors,” Harris advised. “Which means, if they are in trouble, they could be needing our help.”
“Captain, when you say biological,” the one named Louis spoke in a thick French accent, “I assume you mean biological weapons?”
Harris shrugged, “Well, your guess is as good as mine, Louis, but if I was a betting man …”
“So we’ll go in fully masked, no?” Louis continued.
“I will provide you with our plan of attack at another briefing when we are closer to docking, and when, hopefully, we’ll know a bit more. Rest assured, Command would not knowingly send us to a station with this level of classification if there could be something detrimental to our health. Regardless, I’m going to do everything I can to find out more about this, and I’ll have Smith and the flight deck continually searching the frequencies and trying to raise the station. So we’ll see what comes up. Any other questions?”
“Yes, sir,” McKinley spoke up. “I want to know why we were called in from leave to do this. If they’re assuming it’s just a technical difficulty, that is?”
“I guess they’re sending us in, in case it’s not,” Harris said matter-of-factly.
“It must be serious, McKinley,” Carter’s Afrikaans voice sounded deathly serious. “They’ve sent three big, strong recruits to protect us!”
Most of the soldiers burst out laughing, and Louis gave the South African a high-five. Doc looked around at the men and then back at Harris, whose face was a mask. Carrie glanced at the other two women. Packham sat there smirking at the joke, and Colt looked directly Harris, not showing any emotion whatsoever.
“Are there any other questions?” Harris continued.
There was silence.
“Good, then let’s move on shall we? Hunter, Bolkov, stand up!” the captain ordered.
The two soldiers stood, and Bolkov looked even bigger now he was standing. He appeared to be early 40s, with slicked back dark hair and a five o’clock shadow. Hunter was younger, maybe early 30s, about 5' 11" or so, with a fit physique, but something about his body language screamed that he knew it.
“New recruits, First Sergeant Hunter is our chief pilot, and Staff Sergeant Bolkov is our co-pilot.”
“Sergeant Packham, stand up!” Harris ordered.
She did so.
“Gentlemen,” Harris continued, looking at Hunter and Bolkov, “Sergeant Packham here, is an SD-A class pilot …”
Everyone eyed her curiously and she glanced back at them, unaffected.
“Sergeant Packham will be shadowing you throughout this mission,” Harris continued. “Whenever you are on the flight deck, she is to be present. You are responsible for her induction and ensuring she is up to speed with everything she needs to know as a pilot on this ship. Do you understand?”
Hunter and Bolkov exchanged a look. “Yes, sir,” they said in unison, although it lacked enthusiasm.
“Take a seat,” Harris ordered. They did. “First Sergeant Carter, Staff Sergeant Brown, stand up!”
They did so. Brown, like Bolkov, looked even bigger now he was standing. He appeared to be just shy of 6', with interesting black tattoos along his forearms. Carter, the South African, was about 5' 10" and stocky, his green eyes still finding humor in the situation.
“Corporal Colt, stand up!” Harris bellowed.
Colt did so, and the three standing soldiers eyed each other.
Harris looked at Colt. “First Sergeant Carter is in charge of the engine room. He, along with Staff Sergeant Brown, the ship’s engineer, liaise with our pilots on any issues that arise and perform regular tests on all the equipment, including the onboard weaponry.” He then turned to Brown and Carter. “Corporal Colt has strong technical skills and knows her way around electronics and hardwiring. She will work alongside your team. You two gentlemen will be in charge of Corporal Colt’s induction onto this ship. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” came their reply. Brown said it well enough, but Carter had a stupid grin and was almost laughing when he answered.
“Sergeant Louis, Private First Class Smith, stand up,” Harris called, while Colt, Brown and Carter sat down again.
Louis and Smith stood. Louis was about 5' 9", his torso bulging with those weight-lifter muscles. He had clean, dreadlocked hair to his shoulders, and bright white teeth that stood out against his midnight skin. Smith was taller than Louis, at about 5' 10" or so, and although muscular, was quite small body-wise, in comparison with the other soldiers. Carrie picked him to be barely twenty. He must be good at what he does to be selected so young.
“New recruits, these two men work alongside Doc, who is in charge of the ship’s medical and general stores. They take care of the meals here in the mess hall, and Private First Class Smith is also our comms–tech wiz. Sit down, gentlemen.”
Carrie looked at the back of McKinley’s head. They were the only two yet to be called.
“Second Lieutenant McKinley stand up,” Harris called and he did, albeit slowly, reluctantly. McKinley was tall, around the same height as the captain, with a decent build to match, although not pure bulk like Brown or Bolkov, his physique was more defined. His longish blond hair was tied back in a small ponytail that trailed just past the nape of his neck, and he wore a silver band, together with one woven of brown leather on his right wrist.
“Corporal Welles, stand up,” Harris ordered.
Carrie did so, aware that everyone was now looking at her. Everyone except McKinley, that is, who kept his back turned.
“Second Lieutenant McKinley is in charge of the weapons store on this ship.” Harris eyed her firmly. “He is also our resident sharpshooter.” He turned to McKinley. “Corporal Welles is a sharpshooter. She will shadow you in the weapons store and you will be in charge of her induction onto this ship. Do you understand?”
McKinley hesitated and then answered, “Yes, sir.” He didn’t turn around to make eye contact with Carrie, but instead took his seat.
“Good!” said Harris. “You know who everyone is and who you’re working with. Go now, in your teams, and make your final checks. I want this ship ready for departure, soldiers. Dismissed.” With that, Harris turned to the keypad, sent the screen back up into the cavity it came from, gathered his things, and left the room.
Everyone else slowly stood and started heading for the door to go to their posts. Not one of the men, Carrie noticed, looked in the direction of, or bothered to speak to, any of the women.