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| − | '''09:21 Hours, December 14, 2013 (Military Calendar), Military Hospital, Miami, Florida, USA''' | + | '''09:21 Hours, December 14, 2013 (Military Calendar), Miami, Florida, USA''' |
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| − | came a man wearing his formal military suit as casually as if he was only wearing a T-shirt and shorts. He strode into the room, briskly but with an imperious air of command. His actions were smooth and automatic; he was used to being listened to when speaking. His gray hair was cut in a classic military style, his face tan and weathered, with lines around his square, cleffed chin and his sharp nose. Yet despite the intimidating first-glance demeanor, on closer inspection the creases around his eyes were more a result of smiles than frowns or stress. And his face was less old, and had more of a general-outdoorsy kind of look to it that bespoke leading by example. This theory was strengthened by a body that knew no fat and never had. Under the dark blue Navy-reg suit, his chest was rock-hard, with defined muscles that rippled as he moved. Matt correctly guessed his age somewhere North of 50.
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| − | But most encouragingly were his eyes. Set within his irises, a bleached, pale blue color reminiscent of an half-frozen water with hard pupils that augured through every barrier, so that Matt found himself rent open and scanned with a frighteningly methodical and meticulous gaze that seemed to tear secrets from his very mind. Despite their strength, they sparkled with a depthless kindness and mirth. But buried in the deep, frozen blue eyes was a profound sadness. He had experienced vast amounts of pain, both physical and mental. They were knowing eyes.
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| − | "WAKE UP, RECRUITS!"
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| − | Matt jolted awake, struggling to shake off his deep-sleep confusion. Next to him stood a tall, grey-haired drill sergeant.
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| − | "Let's go, outta the bags and hit the showers!"
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| − | Matt extracted his legs from his sleeping bag and rolled off the cot, wearing only his boxers. With a firm shove, the DS pointed Matt in the direction of the showerhouse, and he took off moving.
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| − | The 19 other recruits in the same building with him, including Jamie, Holly, Scar, and Malcolm, blindly followed, stripping off their sleepwear and stepping into the lukewarm showers. Matt quickly scrubbed his body and hopped out, dried off, and pulled on olive-drab fatigues.
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| − | The DS barked out orders. "Come on, girlies, outside and in the dirt!"
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| − | Matt guessed they couldn't just say ladies anymore, what with women being allowed in combat now. Girlies would still insult both men and women. He almost laughed to himself.
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| − | The recruits streamed out of the barracks and onto a huge field, cut to a precision two-inches, and waited for instructions.
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| − | The Drill Sergeant mounted a raised podium and surveyed the lines of recruits and Drill Instructors on the fields. After his DIs ensured the recruits had organized into straight rows and columns, the DS barked, "Push-ups! Count off to a hundred."
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| − | Matt dropped and did push-ups. No problem, so far. It was actually kind of like football.
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| − | Just when Matt's arms began to really start burning from exertion, he reached one hundred and sat in the dirt, waiting for everyone else to finish. Normally, he was one of the first ones done with push-ups, but here he didn't have long to wait. Everyone else was either already done or just finishing.
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| − | "Sit-ups! Count off to one hundred." The DS barked again. Matt turned over and asked a DI to hold his feet for him, then started. Again, he wasn't the first one done, like usual, but instead got little respite before the next activity.
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| − | "Up-downs!" The DS shouted, and several people in the audience groaned. "Count off to one hundred!"
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| − | Matt's arms and thighs burned, and he sucked in great breaths of air. He was, physically, very fit, a result of years spent playing football, wrestling, and soccer, but a hundred up-downs was still nothing to scoff at. By the time he and everyone else was done, Matt's limbs barely responded, and his head hurt from lack of oxygen.
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| − | "Alright!" The DS called, and Matt closed his eyes and tried to move. His legs felt sluggish.
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| − | "Rest, recruits. Drill Instructors, get the water." Carts were wheeled out, laden with one-liter plastic water bottles. Matt grabbed one off the first cart and sucked down water, paused, sucked down air, paused, and then sucked down more water.
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| − | Someone slapped Matt's head. "Slowly, recruit!" A DI screamed in his ear. "You wanna cramp while you work the rest of the morning?"
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| − | "No sir!" Matt responded, and drank more slowly.
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| − | It continued like that for the rest of the morning. Then the recruits were sent on a five-mile run to the other side of the compound, where they rested, drank more water, and were then introduced to the firing range.
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| − | "Now as some of you may know," The DS of the range was saying, "The US Military now owns Heckler and Koch. We are beginning the switch from the Colt weaponry, such as the M4 Carbine and the M16, to HK weaponry. All next-gen infantry, such as yourselves, are to be equipped with the standard XM8 Baseline Carbine with optical targeting scope and 30-round magazines, firing 6.8mm ammunition, plus other customizable attachments as your primary. Secondary weapon will be an HK MP7 with 60-round magazine, firing 7.62 mm ammunition, again customizable. Sidearm will be an HK USP 9mm for the time being, although the techies in the lab are working on a new Magnum that will fire 12.7mm semi-explosive rounds, to punch through armor and stuff.
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| − | "Here, I will make you familiar with a rifle. All of you, regardless of later specialties, will be trained in the use of the standard infantry weaponry and the Automatic Rifle (AR) variant of the carbine, which fires 7.62mm ammunition from 100-round drums. So, lets get to it. Everyone proceed to a slot in the range. Anyone touches anything ''before I say'' and they will be kicked off the force faster than one of my DI's can empty a clip. Any questions? No? Good! Go, go, GO!"
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| − | Matt scrambled to a spot at the front, Jamie quickly followed next to him, and the rest of the squad filed suit. Matt was itching to get his hands on the ordnance.
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| − | "Alright, recruits. Sidearms first. On my mark, pick up the small, rectangular handgun. That's called a USP. Ready? Retrieve weapons. Aim downrange. Ready? Fire!" Matt fired and felt the familiar kick of a 9mm in his hand. He loved it. He fired until the 15-round clip was dry, safed the weapon, and waited until everyone else had done.
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| − | "On my mark, switch magazines. That means push the mechanism on the outside of the trigger guard to the 'down' position. You should feel the clip slide out. If not, you're an idiot and you've somehow screwed up pushing a lever. Ready? Reload!"
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| − | The DS walked up and down the lines. The slots for the range were basically booths that had a padded chair in the middle with tabletops on either side to steady a weapon on, depending on if you were right or left handed. Each recruit had on a pair of shooting glasses and earplugs. The handgun and the MP7 had been stacked on the table to the left, with identical rows of magazines resting in a line below each. The rifle was tucked into the pillar at the edge of the booth, and had a series of 30-round magazines for it on the lefthand table as well.
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| − | "Not bad, recruits. Not bad. I see for some of you, this isn't the first time." The DS drawled in his southern accent. "Right. Now, clear the gun. You will do this by first dropping the new clip you just put in, same way as last time, and cocking the slide again, which will disengage the round already in the clip. When you've done it right, safe the weapon and replace it in its case.
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| − | "Now! On my mark, pick up your MP7. That's the one that's not your handgun and not your carbine. All of the MP7s here have been equipped for one- or two-hand firing. Ready? Retrieve weapon. These firearms are known as 'Sub-machine guns, or SMGs, due to their extremely fast rate of fire and notorious inaccuracy. These weapons are extremely effective in close quarters, but not very accurate, due to the short barrel and lack of rifling. Keep that in mind next time you try to hit a target at 300 yards with this.
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| − | "Ready? Safeties off. Aim downrange. Fire!"
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| − | Matt eagerly pulled the trigger, relishing the recoil as the MP7 kicked back into the hollow of his shoulder. The weapon could be fired one-handed, due to the balance of the gun and the recoil absorbers that sent the kickback straight backwards instead of up, but this model had been equipped with a fore-hand grip and shoulder stock. Matt fired in quick, controlled bursts at the target, punching nice tight groups into the plastic.
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| − | “Cease fire!” The Drill Sergeant said. “Cease fire!”
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| − | The sounds of gunfire reluctantly cut out.
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| − | “Now. On my mark, drop the clip and reload. Ready? Reload!”
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| − | A pause, then, “Clear the gun!”
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| − | Matt dropped the clip and pulled the charging handle, watching as the round sprang out the side.
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| − | “Now, your carbine. Ready? Aim downrange. Fire!”
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| − | “Cease fire! On my mark – Reload!” The recruits dropped their clips and inserted new ones. Standard procedure. “Alright! Again! Remember, we're going for tight groupings here. Tight shots first, close to center second. Ready? Aim downrange! Fire!”
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| − | The Sergeant had the recruits fire five clips of 50 rounds each into the targets to get the barrel warm.
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| − | “Now we will practice interchanging modules. We will switch the standard 9.5 inch barrel out for the AR's 20 inch barrel. The necessary tools are arranged on your left. I'll walk you through the procedure, then we will convert the AR into the compact Personal Defense Weapon (PDW).”
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| − | The DS had them go through the rather simple process in order to exchange the hot barrels, fit the bipod attachment to the handguard, and exchange the 30-round clip for the 100-round drum. “Ready? Aim downrange. Fire!”
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| − | The recruits balanced their heavier weapons on the table in front of them, put the stock against their shoulder, and sighted through the heavier 4x scope.
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| − | “Yee haw!” Someone yelled as he pulled the trigger, hanging on for the ride. The stock bucked against Matt's shoulder again and again as he held the trigger down, trying to stabilize the gun as the sight jerked all around. Matt winced: his shots were way off target. “Bursts!” The DS was roaring. “Fire in bursts, you brainless excuses for humans!”
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| − | Matt adjusted his firing style, pulling the trigger for half a second and then releasing, then immediately repeating it. His accuracy greatly improved.
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| − | “Reload and Fire at Will!” The DS instructed. Someone muttered, "Who's this 'Will' guy?" next to him, and Matt chuckled, dropped the 100-round drum as soon as it was empty and pulled a new one out, slotted it into the receiver and cycled a round into the chamber. He opened fire again and obliterated what he could of the target.
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| − | Matt had time to fire four hundred more rounds before the Drill Sergeant called “Cease fire!” again.
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| − | Next the DS had them go through stripping the rifles down to their bare components and cleaning them out. They repeated the process again with the MP7 and USP, and then they were released for lunch. “Same thing tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen.”
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| − | “That was sweet.” Jamie said. “Completely sweet.”
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| − | “So, Heckler and Koch is now American?” Scar asked. “I thought they were a German arms manufacturer.”
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| − | “They were, but apparently not anymore.” Matt answered.
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| − | “I thought the XM8 program was stopped?” Holly asked.
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| − | “Well, it was. The main reason it was stopped in 2005 was because of outside pressure from Colt and other American contractors, who claimed that the military needed to give preference to American weapons manufacturers. Apparently now that HK is American, Congress was able to sidle around that and get the better gun on the market.” Matt answered.
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| − | "Well, it seems to me that the better equipment should be used." Scar said, perplexed. "Or is this country run by idiots?"
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| − | "But when the standard M4s and M16s work... maybe not as well, but they still function effectively enough for their intended use."
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| − | "And that's called politics for ya, folks." Malcolm interjected.
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| − | Matt dug around in his combat backpack they had all been issued, found his knife, and started playing with it, flipping and twirling the open blade through the air.
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| − | "All I can say, I'd rather not be the enemy when we show up." Scar said, to a general round of laughter and agreement.
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| − | Lunch passed, and then the crew was sent out to "The Classroom." At the Classroom, they were drilled in school-related book-learning subject matters ranging from algebra to trigonometry to environmental science to biology to foreign languages, as well as other, more combat-related subjects, such as various methods for the identification and avoidance of different natural poisons and chemicals, how to treat a bullet wound, and disarming explosives.
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| − | At 13:00 hours, or 1:00 PM, they were sent to Matt's favorite part of the day: Live Fire Training Exercise.
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| − | Here, the DIs rushed each recruit into the armory, where they were split into their squads. The recruits filed into the building, received their squad, and proceeded to their assigned locker, which was filled with equipment. The majority of the space was taken up by a suit of armor, hanging lifelessly in its cradle.
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| − | They donned helmets with integrated HUD, Global Unit Status Subsystem (GUSS), Biostat monitors, comm. system, and visor filters. They were sent ahead into the next room, where racks upon racks of weaponry was stacked. It was enough to make Jamie whistle.
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| − | Each recruit was given an XM8 Carbine, an MP7, and a USP. The armor had built-in webbing gear used to store ammunition, and each soldier was given ten extra carbine clips, five extra for the MP7, and three extra for the USP, as well as a rifle bag stuff-sack filled with the various ammunition for other configurations of the carbine and the tools and parts to do so.
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| − | The rounds they were using were hi-tech. Each bullet was a blob of crimson-colored paint, but encased inside a hard ceramic shell with a proximity defuse that melted the ceramic away when it got within 6 inches of any substance, to emulate as well as possible the ballistics of real assault rounds.
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| − | The paint also had two other compounds laden inside; one, a topical anesthetic, so wherever you got hit with a bullet, the area got numb and hard to move. And two, the compound reacted with microcircuits inside the armor's plates and fabric, which registered each hit on the GUSS and froze the fabric of whatever body part was hit. Three or four rounds into an unarmored part of the chest would cause the whole uniform to stiffen, as would a shot anywhere on the head or sustained fire into the legs or arms. Pretty cool stuff.
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| − | They were also given two frag grenades, again loaded with the special training rounds.
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| − | "Here's the drill. Each squad will be air-dropped into one area of the surrounding forest. You each have a TacMap and access to all regular support that would normally be available to units of your rank; that is, satellite imagery, motion tracking, and evac signals. Your mission is to hunt and kill every soldier that is not part of your squad while maintaining the lives of as many of your own as you can.
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| − | "Each squad now has a Squad Leader, who is now identified with an insignia in the upper-right corner of their HUD. You will obey your Squad Leader just as if I or another superior gave you an order. All clear?"
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| − | "Sir yes sir!" The recruits thundered.
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| − | "Mmhhmm, good. Now lets move out! Squads, get on board an Osprey and get ready to roll."
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| − | Five minutes later, the V-22 was hovering over the jungle. "Soldiers, you will be deployed via fast-rope. You will rappel down to the ground and await the indicator in your HUD before beginning. As soon as you see the signal, you may begin. Good luck, recruits. Up first: Echo Squad! Squad Leader, make sure your squad's gear checks out." The DS gestured to Matt, and all of them went and gave one another triple buddy checks.
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| − | "Ready when you are, Frost!" Holly yelled over their Team comm.
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| − | "Roger that, Aura." Matt yelled back. Each of them had callsigns. His was Frost. Jamie's was Scorch. Scar was Flare. Malcolm was Spark. Holly was Aura. "Alright. Squad, move out! Go, go, go!" Matt barked.
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| − | Scar attached her rappel harness to the line and jumped out the side, one hand on the rope above her, and the other below and slightly behind her butt, the "brake" hand that controlled how fast the line went. Malcolm followed, then Jamie, then Holly. Matt was the last one out, as befitting his status of Squad Leader.
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| − | Scar landed, disengaged her harness, and let it drop to the forest floor. A crew would come later and get it.
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| − | Soon the entire squad was on the ground, and Matt quickly led the squad under cover of the trees. As soon as the V-22 Osprey was out of sight, they doubled back and went after the bird. They kept the lines from the rappel - there was always a use for thirty feet of tough nylon.
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| − | The countdown timer in Matt's HUD read D + 15:07 when Matt raised his fist, the sign to halt. With slow, exaggerated sign language, he indicated for the team to spread out and climb the trees. Jamie went with Matt in one tree. Scar went by herself, and Malcolm and Holly shared a third.
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| − | "Frost, requesting permission to re-format to a sniper?" Scar whispered over the Teamcomm.
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| − | "Roger that, Flare. Permission granted. Scorch, outfit yours with the AR. Aura, you're our grenadier. Get the XM320 on there." The XM320 was a single-shot 40mm grenade launcher that could be attached to their carbines. Matt put one on his. Malcolm preferred a straight-up assault rifle.
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| − | Beside Matt, almost completely invisible in the heavy jungle shadow, Jamie lay prone along two branches, with his AR balanced on a third branch with a clear line-of-sight to the ground.
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| − | Matt slid down from the tree. "Spark, get down here and help me create a barricade. We need to push any incoming squads into one firing lane. Scorch, Flare, give me a dot." In response, Malcolm slid from his tree, and both Scar and Jamie highlighted the firing lane that they had access to with red laser-dots. Matt took armfuls of brambles and thin, thorned vines and dumped them to the left and right of the lane, in between the trees, to create a natural-looking wall that would influence the squads to find an easier way through. Right through their lane of fire.
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| − | Matt strung triplines further out into the jungle with the Nylon cables, attaching them to frag grenades.
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| − | Matt's countdown ended. "Alright people, we can now shoot at and be shot. Let's wrap this up." Malcolm laid the last armful of brambles in place, and then they both scampered up into their separate trees. There were five other squads in this particular mission, all within a square mile. It wouldn't be long before they had some hits.
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| − | Five minutes passed, and no one came. The squad was getting impatient. "Spark," Matt whispered. "Be the rabbit. I need you to go along the lane and see if you can draw some fire, then sprint back here. We'll cover your approach. I'd do it myself but I'm not fast enough."
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| − | "Roger that, lead." Malcolm said, grinning. "I've always been one for the suicidal frontal charge." He slid down his tree, landing in the brush below. Before he had even gone two minutes, the sound of gunfire erupted through the forest. "Frost, I've got multiple targets here. They've got me pinned, I could use some assistance!"
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| − | Matt looked to Holly. She nodded, slid down, and circled around to the right to counter-flank the guys surrounding Malcolm. "Spark, help is on the way. How long can you hold?"
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| − | "I've got good cover, I'm inside a shallow cave-thing in the ground. I can hold out a while."
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| − | "Roger that. Keep your head down, but keep the attention centered on you. And watch out, they'll try to advance. Watch your flanks."
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| − | "You got it, Frost." Malcolm said, and tossed a grenade out the opening of the cave. It exploded, and Malcolm heard someone groan. "Yeah, bring it!" He shouted.
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| − | Holly took up a firing position, sighted through her scope, and tagged a soldier in the back of his head. He dropped like a load of rocks, asleep by the time he hit the ground. Return fire peppered the rock she had been hiding behind, and two soldiers broke off to get her. But Holly wasn't there anymore.
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| − | A soldier fell as rounds tore into his inner thigh. He dropped to the ground, not out yet but with a crippled leg. He hobbled behind a piece of cover as Holly filled the air with bullets around the second soldier. A grenade rolled to a stop next to her, and at this she turned and fled back the way she had come, then darted back, and got the attention of the two remaining soldiers pinning Malcolm.
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| − | At the momentary distraction, Malcolm bolted out of the hole, sprinted from rock to tree, from tree to bush, from bush to ground, and drew the soldiers down through the firing lane, followed a second later by Holly. Jamie adjusted his grip on the AR as the two squadmates ran down the path. 30 seconds later, the first soldier popped into view. Jamie waited until the last soldier appeared, then nailed the one closest to any viable cover.
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| − | The steady thrum of the AR set Matt's head pounding, and he opened fire on the last one in the line. Then Scar fired, and a round slugged the first soldier in the chest.
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| − | Jamie's target fell from hits to the leg, side, and shoulder. He wasn't quite gone, but almost. Jamie finished him off with another quick, sustained burst.
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| − | Matt's soldier dropped to the ground, out for the count with five rounds in his chest and more in his left arm.
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| − | Scar's target took the heavy caliber bullet in the chest and sat down with the force, hard, landing on his butt and jarring his head.
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| − | Before he could recover, Scar punched another round into his chest. He spun halfway around and ate dirt.
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| − | Four down. The last soldier turned to flee, but Holly popped out of the shadows and nailed him with a grenade from her XM320, which cast training rounds into a wide arc everywhere, painting the nearby forest a vivid crimson.
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| − | "Alright!" Jamie crowed.
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| − | Matt disengaged his spent clip and slapped a new one in. "Let's hope the other squads come running for the noise. One down, three to go, gentlemen."
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| − | The next squad was slightly smarter. Instead of running pel-mel into the contested area, they sent one scout on ahead through the firing lane, and the rest hung back and encircled the target area. Too bad for them, Matt's squad had moved from the one killing field and into another close-by clearing, where they could easily spot the would-be flanking attack.
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| − | "Open fire!" Matt yelled, and the two soldiers in sight twisted around, trying to find the source of the noise. One was slugged by a heavy cal. sniper shot, and the other fell to the combined fire from Jamie's AR and Matt's carbine.
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| − | Holly and Malcolm, still on the ground, rose out of a cover of leaves and dead brush and moved around behind the three soldiers left that came running. Standing up, they nailed two with one salvo of fire.
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| − | The last one hit the dirt and rolled under a log. Holly and Malcolm pursued.
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| − | "Negative! Disengage!" Jamie yelled, and opened fire into the brush to their left.
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| − | Holly hit dirt. Malcolm followed half a second later with three rounds stitched across his back. He wasn't out yet, but his entire suit was getting quickly more rigid.
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| − | He turned onto his back and fired in the general direction of where the shots had come from. Holly sidled around to him and took out a fake med-pack, wiping clean the Training Rounds and administering an electric shock through the armor. Malcolm's suit unstraightened a little, and Malcolm crawled back into better cover.
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| − | Jamie was still firing bursts from his AR at the last squad. Matt held his fire; there was no clear target in view, and to give away his position would be stupid. Scar attached a flash suppressor to her rifle, and started shelling the squad's general position.
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| − | "Watch flankers." Matt advised, seeing shadows moving behind her. Scar turned and nailed one soldier who had tried to flank her, and Matt caught another with a grenade.
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| − | Matt slid to the ground as Jamie covered him, landed, and ran in a half-crouch to Holly. He saw a rifle barrel poke out of a bush, saw a blast coming their way, and tackled Holly to the ground. The burst nailed him in the calf and he rolled up into a crouch.
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| − | Matt rolled off and came up firing. Jamie suppressed the soldier that had just shot at them while Matt took him out, Holly and Malcolm covering his flank.
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| − | Then Scar took multiple sustained bursts from the last soldier from the ''other'' squad, and toppled from the tree. She was out cold.
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| − | Fury ignited in Matt. Toppling her from the tree was not necessary, and she could have injured herself. He and Holly outflanked the soldier and drilled him to the ground with long automatic fire.
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| − | They split and threw themselves behind rocks, Matt reloading as he went. There were two left on the other team and three left on his; Malcolm had been drilled again in his helmet.
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| − | Jamie's AR barked again and again. With his suppressive fire, Matt darted from cover to cover and distracted the two soldiers long enough for Holly to creep around and take the first one out. The last soldier sprayed fire everywhere, panicking, and continued even as Matt, Jamie, and Holly's combined fire drilled him into the ground.
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| − | The DS broke through their comm. lines, "Cease fire. Echo team, you have won the mission. We will collect you shortly. Hold position."
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| − | "Roger that." Matt responded. "Alright, lady and gentleman. We won!"
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| − | The survivors of Echo Team gazed around at all the unconscious forms before them. They may as well have been dead. It was only now that Matt got the first hint of what a war could really be like. He would have to do better, make sure none of his crew got hurt, ever. This was one simple mission, and two of his own had gone. What would have happened had they been live rounds? Scar and Malcolm, dead, blink of an eye, without ever seeing their attackers. What was this going to come to?
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| − | This was war.
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| | ---- | | ---- |
The sixth chapter. Sweet.
