REV- Rebirth Read online

  The shuttle entered one of the smaller landing bays at the rear of the ship and settled onto the latticed deck, before localized gravity was reestablished and the chamber pressurized. Pete scooped up his green duffle bag and made his way aft. The rear panel dropped and he stepped into the frigid air of the hangar.

  A young enlisted Navy man greeted him, dressed in a heavy peacoat. Pete shrugged off the cold, his REV conditioning making him more tolerant to radical swings in temperature. Then he eyed the two armed Marines standing off at a distance, watching him. This was standard procedure for all REVs. They rarely went anywhere unescorted.

  “Welcome aboard the Eldorado, Sergeant Savage,” said the young sailor. “I’m Jimmy Graves, hospital corpsman second class. I’m part of your medical recovery crew. I’ll show you to your quarters, and then you have a meeting in the Unit briefing room at oh-nine hundred. I’ll take that for you,” the man said, reaching for the duffle bag.

  “That’s okay, Jimmy,” Pete said. “I’ve got it.”

  Graves smiled knowingly. As a natural consequence of the residual NT-4 in his system, Pete was easily twice as strong as the seaman, even when not activated. He could carry the heavy bag a lot easier than the slender young sailor.

  The pair exited the hangar through a small airlock, with the guards close behind. After presenting his orders at the Quarterdeck, he was passed through into the interior of the warship.

  The REV Operations Center wasn’t too far from the landing bay. It occupied a small portion of the aft section, where the ejection capsules and recovery shuttles were housed. There were also equipment bays, meeting rooms, and quarters for both the REVs and their support personnel, although the REVs themselves were segregated, not only from the rest of the crew, but from other REVs as well.

  His Navy escort opened a pressure door and led Pete down a short corridor between another secure hatchway. There were six side doors along the passageway leading to rooms which Pete knew would be vacant. This was to be his private domain aboard the carrier. No one would be allowed in or out without permission, himself included. Jimmy opened a door and then stepped aside to let Pete enter.

  It was a standard compartment normally reserved for mid-level officers when REVs weren’t embarked. It had a fold-up bunk, a desk with an entertainment center, a wardrobe and a private head. This room was also equipped with a personal food processing station, saving the REV the hassle of having to be escorted to the mess decks for every meal. Pete set the duffle bag on the desk and checked his watch. Twenty-five minutes to get settled in before the briefing. He thanked Jimmy and the young man left.

  Pete unhooked the bunk and let it fall into place. He sat down and looked around at the light gray walls of his ten by twelve metal cell. It looked much like the room he’d lived in for the past year on the planet Crious, while twiddling his thumbs with nothing to do. The REV program was in limbo at the time, as the Human war effort switched from offensive to defensive operations. REVs were attack animals, so their mission had been severely impacted by the change in emphasis. Most of the Fleet REVs had been moved to Crious, to cool their heels while awaiting further orders. What followed was a lonely and boring routine, highlighted by bi-monthly maintenance injections of NT-4 to maintain proper residual levels. Occasionally, he was allowed to interact with some of the other REVs, but for brief periods and always under constant watch. It wasn’t much, but it did break the monotony.

  Pete had been thrilled when his orders came through, assigning him to the Eldorado; however, the question why him still nagged. He was an 0h-351 Bravo with eight years in-service. There were plenty of more-senior REVs on the planet to choose from. So why him? He figured it was because his last maintenance boost had been six weeks ago, and he was due for another soon. Since he was now aboard a battle-carrier—and obviously prepping for a mission—the combat dose of NT-4 he would receive during the op would kill two birds with one stone. According to pragmatic military logic, selecting him for this assignment made perfect sense.

  Despite receiving the orders regardless of his qualifications, he was still thankful it had been him selected to go on the Run, no matter where it took place. The only thing that gave meaning to a REV was the mission, with its associated danger helping to fill the void in his soul and stimulate his mind. Without a mission, the life of a REV was like being in prison while serving out a sentence in solitary confinement. At least now he had a purpose, even if it did bring him one step closer to his eventual early death.

  He took another glance around the room.

  “Welcome home, Pete Savage,” he said with a sigh. “Same shit. Different day.”

  Twenty minutes later, the omnipresent guards escorted him to the unit’s briefing room before stepping inside and taking up positions against the bulkhead. There were nine people already in the room; five officers and four enlisted. A full-bird colonel was standing at the far end of a long conference table. He stepped up to the REV and extended his hand.

  “Welcome aboard, Sergeant Savage. I’m Colonel Sam Daugherty, operations commander for the Marine assault force aboard the EL. By the way…great name. A REV named Savage; it fits.”

  Pete didn’t take offense. He knew the REVs had a solid reputation within the Corps, and the comment was made more out of respect than any implied insult.

  Pete studied the muscular, squat man dressed in Summer khakis. Every Marine contingent aboard a carrier had their senior officer, and Daugherty was it aboard the EL. He would oversee all operations conducted by the Marines, including the air wing. That also put him nominally in charge of the REVs, although each REV unit had its own specialized chain-of-command. Pete noticed a Marine captain sitting at the table. This would be his new unit commander.

  The colonel continued with the introductions. “This is Major Roland Freed, my adjutant, Navy Commander Benito Juarez, the ship’s liaison, and Captain Isaac Lofton, REV ops.”

  The Marine captain rose to his feet and vigorously shook Pete’s hand. “Welcome, sergeant. I’ve seen your jacket; a lot of solid work. You served with Captain Anderson aboard the Camelot a few years back. We went through the Academy together.”

  “He’s a fine officer, sir, and a great commander,” Pete said. “I owe my life to him several times over.”

  All this meeting of new people seemed strange for Pete. During normal operations, a REV was assigned a team of specialists who would serve with him—and only him—for two-year terms. Since the drawdown, most of the support teams had been dissolved—including his old one—with most of the members rotating back into the Fleet. Others chose to retire or leave the service, having lost their primary focus in the Corps. Pete wasn’t surprised to see a new commander. He was sure all the team members would be newbies, at least with respect to working with each other. That could be problematic. Recovery and medical crews had to work in perfect harmony if Pete was to have a chance of surviving a Run. But these were different times. He would withhold judgement until he met the other members of his team.

  “This is Command Master Sergeant Darius Bullock,” the colonel continued, introducing a huge bull of a black man with a granite face and thin sheen of sweat on his skin. “Sergeant Bullock will be the team leader for the ground mission, and there’s none better or tougher.”

  Pete knew what he meant: tougher…for a normal Human.

  “All the members of the REV support team are new to the ship, so it will take a while for everyone to settle in,” said Colonel Daugherty, confirming Pete’s earlier suspicion. “Having said that, let’s proceed with the briefing.”

  Pete took a seat at the opposite end of the table from Daugherty just as a large monitor came to life on the wall behind the officer. It showed a picture of Lieutenant Zac Murphy, formerly the most-senior REV in the Corps. “I’ll give a little background, although most of you in the room may not need it.”

  Pete was one of those who did. Although he had access to television and radio on Crious, he wasn’t that interested in current affairs.
As a REV, most events were irrelevant to him, seeing that he couldn’t do anything about them and wasn’t allowed to interact with the outside world even if he could. Over the years, the goings on reported by hyperventilating news anchors became only so much background noise so he tuned most of it out.

  The colonel continued. “Since the events at the temple on Iz’zar almost two years ago, we’ve been in a major retreat throughout the Grid. We’ve lost just about all the gains we’ve made over the past ten years or more, which has been a fucking waste of lives and resources. Yet recently, with the recovery of the Corollary documents and their rather shocking revelations concerning the Antaere and their alien followers, things are beginning to change.”

  He turned his attention to the screen. “Most of you know Lt. Zac Murphy. If not, then climb out from under your rock and pay attention. Since his capture four months ago, the Antaere have been broadcasting incriminating and damaging video of his many confessions, not only for the debacle on Iz’zar, but for everything else the Antaere can think of. If a Qwin gets a hangnail, Murphy is taking the blame for it. But as you also know, it’s all bullshit. Our techs have incontrovertible proof that the videos are fake, nothing more than digitized images of the lieutenant. For some time now, we’ve been sending out our own videos disputing the claims. Overall, it hasn’t done much good. The vast majority of the Grid is still firmly in the pockets of the Antaere and definitely anti-Human. Even broadcasting the video of the Corollaries, showing how the Antaere plan to kill off all their native sheep at the time of the so-called Final Glory hasn’t changed things much.” The colonel put the words ‘Final Glory’ in finger quotes, revealing how he felt about the Antaere and their religion, called the Order. “The aliens are claiming the Corollary video is a fake, and until we get the originals to Earth to be analyzed, not much is going to change on that front. However….”

  The slide changed, showing a planet Pete recognized as Kaus, or ES-7. He’d taken many a Run on the planet, so he knew it intimately, both from orbit and on the ground.

  “ES-7,” Colonel Daugherty stated. “Liberated ten years ago at a high cost of Human blood and treasure. Since then it’s become a pit where billions of adjusted dollars have been poured for reconstruction and support, only to have the ungrateful native bastards tell us to pack up and leave a year ago. In the meantime, they invited the Antaere in to make sure we stay gone, surrendering all the territory we once held. It’s the same story throughout most of the Grid. However, gentlemen, in the case of ES-7, we’re going back.”

  “An invasion?” asked Captain Lofton, anxiously.

  “Unfortunately, no,” said Daugherty. He turned back to the static photo of the Earth-like world. “Since we left, the native population has divided into independent factions, each fighting for domination and controlling essentially a third of the planet.” He pointed to the Southern region. “This is our target.” The screen enlarged, to show a view from orbit of an oblong structure nestled between a pair of snow-capped mountain ranges. “This is the Bountiful Enclave. The natives in this region have requested our assistance in removing the Antaere from a base they established there after the Human population moved to the Unity Enclave at the start of the current hostilities. This is the first time in over a year that any of the Colony Worlds—even a segment of one—has asked for our intervention. This is a turning point, gentlemen, showing a shift in loyalties is beginning to take place.”

  Daugherty turned to the room. “I’m sure I don’t have to stress how important this is to the war effort. We can’t do squat without the support of the locals, and if we prove ourselves during the upcoming operation, there’s a good chance the other factions on ES-7 will join us. Kaus could be the first of a domino-effect of worlds where we get invited in to help. It could signal a major strategic shift in the war…and it all starts with us, gentlemen.”

  “Sir, ES-7 is pretty deep in Antaere territory; at least it is now,” said Captain Lofton. “Even if we liberate the entire planet, it would be hard to hold.”

  “That’s correct, captain,” said Daugherty. “Even so, the optics will go a long way in changing the hearts and minds of the natives everywhere. Let’s face it, the destruction of the Temple on Iz’zar pissed off a lot of the believers of the Order, but it didn’t seriously change their attitude toward the Antaere. It just became very unpopular—and dangerous—to say so. With a few victories under our belt, along with the revelations of the contents of the Corollaries, a lot of the distrust and animosity toward the Antaere could find a voice. This mission—although hastily organized and limited in scope—has the highest priority according to Earth Command. There’s no way we can say no to the natives. We’re doing this, gentlemen…and we’re going to kick a lot of alien ass in the process.”

  The colonel had made his point, and the men in the room felt not only his determination, but also his unspoken concern. This was big. They had better not fuck it up.

  After a few more logistical comments, the colonel said they would have a full strategic briefing once closer to the target. Then he dismissed the men to tend to their specific duties.

  Captain Lofton and Master Sergeant Bullock joined Pete in the corridor.

  “Nothing like putting a shitload of pressure on us after a year layoff,” said Lofton.

  “It will be fine, sir,” Pete said. “I’m well-rested for the Run.”

  Lofton returned a nervous smile. “Glad to hear it. Now, take the rest of the day to get acclimated to local time. Tomorrow morning—o-seven hundred—meet in Staging Room B. Master Sergeant Bullock will introduce you to some new toys we have for you.”

  “New toys?”

  “Yes, sergeant. You didn’t think REV Command has been sitting on our thumbs for the past year, did you? We’ve been playing around with some ideas I think you’ll like.”

  Pete grimaced. He was a REV, which meant he was a creature of habit. He didn’t like new. New got people killed.

  2

  The next morning the omnipresent sentries followed Pete to Staging Room B, but this time they waited outside. Inside was Master Sergeant Bullock and two other men, both enlisted Marine sergeants. The room was fairly large with high ceilings lined with bare conduits and other piping, along with a set of flat lighting panels. As it was throughout the military starship, the walls were uniform gray and the decking was made of latticed metal, designed to drain away any water leaks or accumulated condensation from the dank humidity that seemed to be everywhere.

  Master Sergeant Bull Bullock was as stern-faced as ever this morning, with the sleeves of his fatigues rolled up and straining to hold together against the Marine’s bulging biceps. The man was a huge and angry presence, and as before, his skin glistened with a light sweat sheen. He grunted as he wiped away a coating of moisture from his smooth forehead while glaring steely-eyed at the young REV. Pete wondered if he’d wronged the huge command sergeant in another life? He looked as though he’d just as soon rip off Pete’s head than give him the time of day. But the REV shrugged off the feeling. He’d been in the Marines long enough to know the type. Bull couldn’t let his guard down for a moment. That would be a sign of weakness and a betrayal of the fear he sought to instill in all who met him. The problem: most Marines knew it was just an act, so few took him seriously, at least with regards to the persona. As far as him being one bad-ass hunk of mean Marine, that was beyond question. Few could match Bull’s skill and courage. The man was a legend in the Corps, and honestly, Pete was glad to have him on his team.

  A staff sergeant walked up and greeted Pete warmly. “Welcome, Sergeant Savage,” said the man. “I’m Howard Noonan. The other tech is Len Groves…and you’ve already met Master Sergeant Bullock. Most of us arrived aboard the Eldorado over the last few days so we’re all trying to get to know each other. Len and I are your armor techs.”

  Bullock grunted again. “Let’s get on with it, sergeant,” he snapped at Noonan. “He’ll get to know the rest of the team as the need arises.”


  “Yes, master sergeant.” Noonan turned to the table at the center of the room. On it was an assortment of what looked like scrap metal, a couple of dozen pieces at least, mostly curved and of various lengths. “This,” Noonan said, sweeping a hand over the array, “is your pretty new suit of armor.”

  Pete stepped up to the table and lifted a piece of the light green metal. It was extremely light and bent slightly as he examined it.

  “This is going to protect me?”

  Noonan smiled. “Better than the old clunky suit you’re used to.” He took the piece from Pete. “This is a new polymer material we’ve been working on for some time. It’s actually made of cellulose—wood.”

  “Wood? No shit?”

  “Yep. This new armor is made out of something called cellulose nanocrystals. We’ve been able to extract CNC fibrils with incredible strength and pair them with carbon fiber strands. They’re not only strong but lightweight. In giga-Pascals, the new material has elasticity of nearly two hundred and a tensile strength of over ten, after we’ve spiced it up with our secret sauce.”

  “But it’s flexible, even soft,” Pete said.

  “That’s before a current is run through it to align the molecules. That’s what’s so unique about it. We can shape it to just about any form and then stabilize it into nearly indestructible panels, lightweight, yet flexible to a point.”

  Noonan took the piece of light green armor and placed it on Pete’s right forearm. He shaped the material, squeezing it with his hands until it was a perfect fit. The other Marine tech then stepped up and placed a small black box against the material. He pressed a button on the box and Pete felt the material heat up. A moment later, Noonan removed the material and handed it back to Pete. It was as rigid as metal, still warm to the touch.