To cut the story short, we got even more than we expected. Peterson's dead hand,
or in this case hammer, has reached us from the world beyond and provided our
military careers an unexpected, and rather violent twist. That kind of twist
you apply to a chicken's head when you are about to cook a soup.
The scientific expedition found out that after Peterson's thorough application
of his favorite method of interaction on the surviving aliens and base facilities,
there was nothing left to research.
Asteroid Omicron-Zeta-734 is a sector-wide source of Mendelevium; a fact that is
relatively unknown to general public. It's also quite small, uninteresting
piece of rock, and it becomes even more so with each passing year you have to stay
there and dig your way through the remainder of your sanity. I know that better than
anyone else - but that is, my friends, completely different story. A story
I will be happy to tell, if only someone was kind enough to buy another round.
"Five, and seven more!" announced Velasquez, throwing a handful of colored credits at the growing pile at the cargo crate that served us as a makeshift card table. Soldiers had always a passion for gambling, and our squad was no exception. It takes away the edge of the endless waiting, makes you forget, and hell, sometimes you even win a nice pocket money.
"Seven, and five more." I replied. There were only two of us in the game now, but my cards were less crappy than usual.The cargo bay 7 was dark and chilly, the usual buzz of loading drones, hurrying attendants, and incomprehensible radio announcements.
Our faces seemed different under the dim, yellow service lights, maybe a bit tense from anticipation. The first assignment, after all, is like a first date - one tends to remember for a long time. "Attention!" The commander's voice cracked like a whip. The cards vanished like rabbits hearing a hunter's horn, and so did the colored chips in the bank. Damn my rotten luck!
"Squad, our orders have just arrived. We are to board the patrol cruiser Bargon 758-A1 and head for the Alpha Eridani system. A patrol drone has just revealed an abandoned research facility from the twenty fifth century - possibly older. It belonged to some extinct biotech corporation called Mainland-Buttani or Fairmaid-Gluttony, the name just fell outta my head. Anyway, our squad is to fly there and perform a Secure and Recover mission.
Orders specifically mention data - - discs, crystals, nano-memory, any data storage medium is a primary mission objective. Understood?""Secure and Recover? Why don't they sends some eggheads to dig for dead egghead's trash... sir? Why us, soldiers?" That was O'Connor, our flamer op. Wiseguy... and major pain in the backside for the whole squad.
"United Planets regulation AG-435. Each recovery mission from systems farther than 9 parsecs must have an armed escort of at least five armed personnel. That's you, guys. Plus, a routine mission will help you to learn the ropes. Your papers say you are as green as grass, though the drill sergeant Henderson speaks very highly of you in the report." "Wow... really?" Peterson, our "close combat specialist" a. k. a. "The hammer guy". You know, those too dumb to shoot without hitting you in the back, but strong enough to smash things into pieces. Ain't a bad guy really, if only he'd stop drooling now and then.
"Of course, let me quote..." The commander was a real pro, his face grave as a stone statue, as he exclaimed: "The squad exhibits excellent morale as well as tactical coordination in all combat situations. All test finished with above-average grades. Squad recommended for deployment in extreme conditions." Velasquez grinned, spat on the ground, patting hispet Vulcan cannon, but Peterson looked really proud. Poor sod.
"How is preliminary threat assessment being estimating?" Kitano, our engineer, his bad English a source of never-ending amusement. But people usually laughed only until they saw him wield his fusion cutter in a simulated combat. He always dreamed of becoming a sergeant one day, gaining the right to use a sword in a proud proud tradition of his ancestors. But seriously, can you imagine him commanding a squad?"This should be a simple low-risk mission; an armed presence is really a mere formality. However,standard encryption protocols dictate that each of you will use randomly assigned code-namesduring this mission. Any more questions?"
"Sir, no sir! Squad, prepare to board the cruiser in 15 minutes. Dismissed." I barked my lines with talent and passion. Always obedient as a dog, always happy to serve. My men speculated I must have been a close combat specialist before promotion. I never did anything to challenge that opinion - it's always good to have one more ace up in the sleeve, right, Velasquez, you cheating bastard?As we marched through the maze of crates across the landing bay, no one really cared. Some techs raised heads from a strange gadget they were repairing, and one of them laughed. Velasquez answered with a raised middle finger and his heavy accent: "Morituri te salutante, pendejo!" Everyone laughed. It was our last laugh for many months that followed, but of course, we didn't know yet..
