Sixty-one people, thirty-two of whom were wounded and unable to walk. The remaining four hundred and thirty-nine people died in the crash of the military transport shuttle «Persia». Both shuttle pilots were killed. Someone was thrown out of a hole in the casing while the shuttle was in the sky, their bodies have not been found.
As it turned out, the damage to the casing did not appear as a result of the shuttle colliding with the surface of the planet, but something or someone collided with the aircraft and, unfortunately, we do not know what exactly.
We had to put into one compartment many corpses of our colleagues and friends, with whom we spent many months of service on Kanasis, and before that on the Moon. Their bodies completely filled the compartment, leaving virtually no free space. Seeing so many dead bodies and how few of us were left filled us with a feeling of oppression and despair in the current situation and only Lieutenant John and his confidence kept everyone in check, giving us hope that all was not lost.
Meanwhile, the rain outside did not stop and continued to drown the jungle, and the energy in the shuttle was almost gone. Only batteries for lamps, tablets and short-range communication devices remained working. The lighting inside the shuttle was turned off and only dim lamps were burning inside the compartments where the surviving soldiers of the Republic Armed Forces of Man lived.
The droid operator deactivated his «children», as he put it, and walked around the compartments throwing up his hands, not knowing what to do now. Without droids, he was like without legs, and he now walked in an exoskeleton due to his wounds and crushed legs, in particular. His legs were broken and required serious treatment. The medic somehow got him back on his feet, but as soon as the charge in the batteries of his exoskeleton runs out, he will no longer be able to walk.
Engineers, meanwhile, tried to fix what could be fixed among all this rubbish. Food replicators, our breadwinners, could not work without energy, nevertheless, engineers repaired them, but alas, we will not soon be able to use them to replace our own dry rations. When energy appears, we will definitely use them.
Engineers also repaired the broken airlocks between the compartments and corrected many technical faults, but it was impossible to plug the hole near the nose of the shuttle outside the shipyard. There weren't enough sheets to repair the sheathing. Even if the hole were somehow repaired, the road to space would still be closed for us. New sheets, if we had them, would not provide the tightness necessary for entering orbit and staying in space.
When the «Persia» shuttle crashed, the retractable antenna was damaged, which is why long-distance communications were lost and, accordingly, we could not contact the rest of the army. To fix it, you need to print out the necessary parts on a special STCNC machine. This STCNC machine was not on the shuttle, but it could well have been on one of the cargo shuttles, which also crashed for an unknown reason a couple of thousand kilometers southeast, judging by the holographic map built before the crash of cruiser «Zeus».
However, due to the densely wooded terrain, it was impossible to use the IFV to quickly travel across the surface to the nearest cargo shuttle. The journey by armored vehicle would take up to two weeks one way if possible. However, by switching to the mode of ground-air movement, it was possible, even taking into account vegetation obstacles, to get there even in a week, but moving back would become impossible and back to the shuttle would have to be done on foot, which in fact already sounded like a plan.
“So, this is how we solve our problem.”
Said the lieutenant, taking off the now unnecessary breathing mask, like everyone else, revealing his thick black beard.
“Platoon C1-2-2D1 under the command of Junior Lieutenant Leo Fonmarin will take the IFV «Trebuchet» and get to the crash site of the nearest cargo shuttle, search it, find and take the STCNC machine, destroy the IFV «Trebuchet» for the purposes of the military-technological security of the Republic and head back lightly across these plains and mountains. Just in case, take one combat spacesuit to drag away the machine. The return trip will take platoon C1-2-2D1 two months. Junior Lieutenant Fonmarin, is the order clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Answered Junior Lieutenant Leo. He was blond with a thin build and pale skin. Like half of the 127th Army, he was a Martian, which meant he was also tall, pale and thin in build. I don’t even know if we know each other. My memory has not yet fully returned, but I still remember some things in fragments.
At this time, the lieutenant continued the briefing with a very, very serious expression on his face.
“Our task for the two remaining platoons is to get safe food. As you know, we only have enough provisions for a month, but taking into account the transfer of existing supplies of rations to platoon C1-2-2D1, it will last for a week.”
“And where will we get food?”
I asked the lieutenant.
“We'll hunt.”
The lieutenant answered, and another officer, junior lieutenant Uwon, asked in turn.
“On whom?”
“On someone.”
The lieutenant answered sternly, squeezing the pistol in his hand, ready to go out hunting himself.
“When you shoot someone and bring them here, the chief physician will examine the local wildlife for biological hazards. He will decide whether to eat local animals for us or not. In a week we need to quickly switch from rations to a local diet. Otherwise we will die of hunger.”
“Fortunately, we still have drugs to prevent dangerous diseases.”
Said the chief medic, appearing behind us still with a breathing mask on his face.
“The problem is not at all in the safety of this food, but in its preparation. We will have to collect firewood, dry leaves, branches and light fires like in the good old days. We shouldn't have any problems with the latter since we have a plasma cutter. We will use it to light a fire.”
“Questions?”
The lieutenant asked and we all shook our heads and then answered in unison.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“No questions, sir!”
“Then let's get started.”
The lieutenant clapped his hands. Meanwhile, I returned to the aft compartment, where all the soldiers who survived the crash were located and I met with my platoon C1-2-2D4, although in fact it should have been called C1-2-2D3.
We only had three junior lieutenants and, accordingly, three platoons. Of course, my platoon was short of four people and five more were wounded. As a result, only ten people, plus me, remained safe and sound under my command.
The wounded of our platoon sat in the dark next to dim lamps and warmed themselves from heat generators whose energy was also running out. The doctor was just examining one of them.
Although the soldiers were in a desperate situation, being far beyond the borders of their home, somewhere deep in space, who knows where, and stuck in an anomalous space on a primitive inhabited planet and also separated from the main group, they still retained a certain collective optimistic mood, apparently in order to somehow cheer up in such a desperate situation.
“A11.”
“Past.”
“Infection.”
“I 17.”
“Argh! Killed! But how?”
“Luck.”
“Fuck you!”
A couple of fighters were playing naval battle on tablets. Apparently due to the lack of energy, the screens of their tablets were dim to save power. A couple of other people, it seemed familiar to me, were sitting nearby, having a casual conversation about politics. For me, discussing the topic of the politics of an interstellar state remained some kind of transcendental matter that I am unlikely to ever understand.
“And what? Do you think the fukults will just leave Kanasis alone? Senate didn't just send us there, did they?”
“You do understand that the Confederacy controls most of the galaxy, right? Moreover, this is not even a state, but an unification”
“Yeah, the unification would threaten humanity by building military stations near the Republic space. Maybe they have already done this somewhere between the stars, but we don’t know.”
“Don’t listen to Republican propaganda on the Internet. They can say a lot of things there. There on Kanasis there was simply a reputational dispute about the ownership of the system and the Kanasians asked the Republic for military support to protect them in case of aggression.”
“Of course, they asked to protect them because this "unification" does not want its own collapse and they need to return Kanasis to their fold by any means. Our presence there would provide at least some guarantees of the sovereignty of the planet, and this is a threat of war. If the Fucults attack, our peaceful life will come to an end.”
“There will be no war. Sending several armies there is simply a symbolic gesture from the Senate of the Republic. Do you think people and fucults are stupid enough to start a war on a galactic scale over some system?”
“Why not? If the fukults see our Republic as a threat... oh!”
The soldiers, noticing me with the symbols «1» on my dark blue shoulder straps, realized that their junior lieutenant appeared before them. They put away their tablets, stopped arguing, stood up and saluted as the code told them to.
“Sir!”
They sang in chorus and saluted.
“At ease.”
I said and everyone relaxed.
“I got an unexpected promotion, didn’t I, Will?”
One of the fighters arguing about politics with his neighbor was my friend, with whom we served on the Moon. Fortunately, I was able to remember this after hearing his usual relaxed and optimistic style of speech.
“Will you tell me what your salary is later? Maybe I’ll also want a raise when we get out of here.”
Will said with a grin and the whole platoon laughed.
“Okay, jokes aside. I came to tell you about current goals.”
I said and the fighters became more serious and began to listen to me more attentively, and in the meantime I sat down on one seat next to them and started with the bad.
“In general, we transfer most of the rations to platoon C1-2-2D1...”
Before I had time to finish, the soldiers began to mutter in indignation.
“Uh~ why?”
“Seriously, why? Everyone has enough at the expense of sevenths. What’s the matter?”
Apparently they didn’t want to give their rations to other soldiers from another platoon, which is understandable, but then I raised my hand and silenced my soldiers, and then said:
“Alas, but it is so. You will have to live with it.”
They did not resign themselves and continued to stand with dissatisfied faces. I continued to say:
“Platoon C1-2-2D1 will carry out a mission to deliver some kind of special machine from a cargo shuttle that crashed two thousand kilometers southeast of the cargo shuttle. Their journey will take two months. More precisely, one week on an infantry fighting vehicle there and two months back on foot. Therefore, we are transmitting part of their rations to them.”
“What are we going to eat?”
The yellow-faced Itami Show, who had previously defeated his opponent in a naval battle on a tablet, was indignant.
“We'll eat what we shoot.”
I answered and Will immediately asked me.
“Is it even possible to eat local animals? Won’t we get poisoned?”
“Get poisoned,”
I admitted.
“But we will also swallow pills and use drugs in case of foreign infections, well, you know that. We all went through this on the Moon.”
Remembering one training episode from early service, they realized what they would have to go through. They, of course, didn’t like it, but if they wanted to survive and not die from a cold, then they would have to inject themselves with special drugs for biological protection from the effects of the alien ecosystem and its infections. Meanwhile I continued:
“Our task will be to hold out as long as possible until Platoon C1-2-2D1 returns. When they will return and bring this STCNC machine, in parts or in its entirety, I don’t know. In short, as soon as they do this and bring the machine, the engineers will conjure a new antenna on the machine and then we will call a rescue shuttle from the rest of the 127th Army. That's the plan. Is everyone clear?”
“Yes...”
Everyone said lazily, taking out and preparing their rifles.
“We won’t put on spacesuits?”
Asked a sniper named Esko.
“For what? Are you planning to fight against the Pantorians? Hah~!”
Will grinned as he disassembled the machine gun for cleaning, after checking how many magazines with cartridges he had.
“No... it’s just somehow unusual without a spacesuit.”
Replied the earthling, checking his sniper rifle.
«It’s also unusual for me to be without a combat spacesuit...»
I sighed and took out a magnetic key from my pocket.
“Limit yourself to police equipment.”
I answered, opening one of the lockers and taking out light helmets, body armor, bags, goggles and water flasks, and then I began to hand them these things.
“We don't know who we can meet here, so dress in this for now.”
“Where does this police equipment come from?”
Asked a Martian named Forn, picking up a camouflage helmet.
“These are naval ones.”
I answered, shaking to check the presence of water in the flasks. The fighters changed into the green camouflage available on board the shuttle, after which the fighters began to eat their rations for the evening. Some ate themselves, while others spoon-fed the wounded while communicating with them.
One of the wounded lay silently for a long time. He suddenly began to delirium, and that was not surprising. During the crash, the ceiling fell on him, nearly piercing his skull and taking away his eyes, leaving him ultimately blind. The medic miraculously managed to patch him up, but until that moment there were no other deviations in his behavior, and now he mutters this:
“Sod... Sod... great Sod... I pray you... Sod...”
“What’s wrong with him?”
Asked a black girl engineer sitting next to him.
“He seems crazy,”
Answered another wounded man with his arm cut off at the elbow.
“Sod... Sod... will come...”
“Who is Sod?” the girl asked and no one answered.
“Even I don’t know.”
The medic shrugged his shoulders and then he answered the maddened one.
“Sod is nearby. Calm down."
For some reason the wounded man smiled.
“So-o-od~...”
I didn’t listen to him any further and took out a sleeping bag from one of the lockers. The compartments were lit by dim lamps, and all the surviving fighters were mostly engaged in reading something on their tablets, playing board games, arguing on political topics, or doing something else before going to bed. In general, everyone spent their free time as best they could and wanted.
After some recovery from the terrible crash, where we found ourselves completely alone in some anomalous jungle, we all went to bed in our sleeping bags and fell asleep. Even though we didn’t know what awaited us next, the next day promised to be full of new events. Tomorrow we will go hunting.