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Book: Sergeant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 2) by Jonathan P. Brazee
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Authors: Jonathan P. Brazee
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goofy-looking grin plastered across it.
“Oh, copacetic, Sergeant. No pain at all. Doc’s hooked me up,” he said as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“I ’ve given him somamine,” Doc Grbil passed to Ryck on a person-to-person. “He’s not going to be feeling a thing.”
Somamine was one of Pfizer’s newest painkillers. It worked by changing the pain impulses into something the brain recognized as a warm feeling of contentment. The science of it was beyond Ryck, but it was a favorite among the Marines. They called it “happyland.” It couldn’t be used for too long as it could permanently re-program the brain as to what was pain and what was pleasure, but it was very effective in situations such as this.
“Is he going to be OK?” Ryck asked.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He’s going to have to go through decon, though. The blast broke through his armor, and he got some of this toxic atmosphere that leaked in. I’ve gunked the break, and that should hold for now. As for his leg, it’ll probably take some surgery to repair the damage, then regen to heal it. I think a couple of months, tops.”
“Sergeant Lysander, I can see your stats even if you can’t. All your readings are in the green. Are you effective? We’ve got to keep moving,” the lieutenant asked.
“Uh, roger, sir, I’m still effective,” Ryck responded.
He could hear the slight click that told him the platoon commander had switched back to the platoon net.
“PFC Sullivan has been WIA’d but is in no danger. He will be picked up by G-One for a casevac. We’ve still got our mission, so move it out. We don’t know what ordinance was used against us, so until we identify it and devise countermeasure, watch your dispersion. Gee-Three-Six, out.”
As Ryck turned to go back to his squad, he caught sight of Major Laurent standing 20 meters off to the side, clearly studying Sullivan. Ryck was suddenly washed over by a feeling of foreboding. Laurent was an observer, so he was bound to observe. Ryck couldn’t help but feel, though, that he might be too interested in a weakness in the Marine PICS.
Within moments, as a team from First Platoon arrived to take charge of Sullivan, the platoon was back on the move. Ryck’s PICS was moving normally. His problem, though, was visibility. Back on Prophesy, when the PCDC declared bankruptcy and pulled out, the economy had shattered with many people finding themselves out of work. A number of people took to standing at intersections and washing the windows of hovers for a few credits. Ryck would have paid 100 credits at the moment if one of those men or women was there now and could reach inside his PICS to clean off the blood.
The top of his face shield was clear. Ryck was using this section for visibility as he moved forward. This was where the anti-fogging vents were, though. In certain conditions, such as when out of direct sunlight in open space, the outside of the visor would be bitterly cold while the inside was kept warm. This could lead to fogging, so a simple vent system blew warmed air over the inside of the face shield. This was a basic, old-fashion method that worked surprisingly well.
On a whim, Ryck activated it. He didn’t want to dry the blood where it was. That would make things worse. But he turned up the vent to its highest speed anyway. It worked. With the fan pumping out the air, it blew the droplets down the inside of the face shield to where it caught on the edge of where the face shield met armor. There were still streaks of blood which started to dry, but Ryck could see through his visor. More importantly, he could see his displays again.
The lieutenant had told him his numbers were good, but Ryck ran a quick check anyway. Other than a still slightly elevated pulse rate, everything was normal. Less than five minutes had passed since the explosion, so that was probably adrenalin still coursing through his body that had shot up his heart rate.
He ran a quick check on the
“Oh, copacetic, Sergeant. No pain at all. Doc’s hooked me up,” he said as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“I ’ve given him somamine,” Doc Grbil passed to Ryck on a person-to-person. “He’s not going to be feeling a thing.”
Somamine was one of Pfizer’s newest painkillers. It worked by changing the pain impulses into something the brain recognized as a warm feeling of contentment. The science of it was beyond Ryck, but it was a favorite among the Marines. They called it “happyland.” It couldn’t be used for too long as it could permanently re-program the brain as to what was pain and what was pleasure, but it was very effective in situations such as this.
“Is he going to be OK?” Ryck asked.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He’s going to have to go through decon, though. The blast broke through his armor, and he got some of this toxic atmosphere that leaked in. I’ve gunked the break, and that should hold for now. As for his leg, it’ll probably take some surgery to repair the damage, then regen to heal it. I think a couple of months, tops.”
“Sergeant Lysander, I can see your stats even if you can’t. All your readings are in the green. Are you effective? We’ve got to keep moving,” the lieutenant asked.
“Uh, roger, sir, I’m still effective,” Ryck responded.
He could hear the slight click that told him the platoon commander had switched back to the platoon net.
“PFC Sullivan has been WIA’d but is in no danger. He will be picked up by G-One for a casevac. We’ve still got our mission, so move it out. We don’t know what ordinance was used against us, so until we identify it and devise countermeasure, watch your dispersion. Gee-Three-Six, out.”
As Ryck turned to go back to his squad, he caught sight of Major Laurent standing 20 meters off to the side, clearly studying Sullivan. Ryck was suddenly washed over by a feeling of foreboding. Laurent was an observer, so he was bound to observe. Ryck couldn’t help but feel, though, that he might be too interested in a weakness in the Marine PICS.
Within moments, as a team from First Platoon arrived to take charge of Sullivan, the platoon was back on the move. Ryck’s PICS was moving normally. His problem, though, was visibility. Back on Prophesy, when the PCDC declared bankruptcy and pulled out, the economy had shattered with many people finding themselves out of work. A number of people took to standing at intersections and washing the windows of hovers for a few credits. Ryck would have paid 100 credits at the moment if one of those men or women was there now and could reach inside his PICS to clean off the blood.
The top of his face shield was clear. Ryck was using this section for visibility as he moved forward. This was where the anti-fogging vents were, though. In certain conditions, such as when out of direct sunlight in open space, the outside of the visor would be bitterly cold while the inside was kept warm. This could lead to fogging, so a simple vent system blew warmed air over the inside of the face shield. This was a basic, old-fashion method that worked surprisingly well.
On a whim, Ryck activated it. He didn’t want to dry the blood where it was. That would make things worse. But he turned up the vent to its highest speed anyway. It worked. With the fan pumping out the air, it blew the droplets down the inside of the face shield to where it caught on the edge of where the face shield met armor. There were still streaks of blood which started to dry, but Ryck could see through his visor. More importantly, he could see his displays again.
The lieutenant had told him his numbers were good, but Ryck ran a quick check anyway. Other than a still slightly elevated pulse rate, everything was normal. Less than five minutes had passed since the explosion, so that was probably adrenalin still coursing through his body that had shot up his heart rate.
He ran a quick check on the
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