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| − | The sixth chapter. Sweet.
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| − | Previous Chapter: [[Phoenix Rising: Chapter 5]] | + | Previous Chapter: [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 5]] |
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| | Homepage: [[Atlantis]] | | Homepage: [[Atlantis]] |
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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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| − | "Matthew Kenderson, Admiral Ford to see you."
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| | + | Next Chapter: [[Atlantis Rising: Chapter 7]] |
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| − | | + | Homepage: [[Atlantis]] |
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| − | The hospital nurse gave him an uncertain smile, then retreated behind the door to Matt's room.
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| − | In her stead 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 generally-outdoors 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 around 50.
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| − | But most encouragingly were his eyes. Set within his irises, a bleached, pale blue color reminiscent of an early-morning sky 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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| − | Matt took all this in from a half-upright position, which was all he could manage, against his hospital cot. Matt didn't even try to salute; that would have been too far to go with his limited energy, and anyhow, the general didn't look much in the mood for formal military regulations.
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| − | Two other suits entered the room with him. Matt had just enough strength to frown and wobble on his locked elbow, which was all that was keeping him upright. The Admiral caught the minute body language and turned to dismiss the two escorts. "Thank you, gentlemen, if you don't mind I'd like someone to fetch the other three while we're at it." It was a clear dismissal, and both Suits turned from the room with only slightly taken aback expressions and left to find a nurse that knew where Jamie, Scar, and Holly had been housed.
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| − | The Admiral did not immediately say anything, but sat down on a padded couch next to the cot.
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| − | "Well, Matthew, you've put me in a rather difficult situation, I'll tell you." Ford said in a pure Northern accent.
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| − | Matt had the grace to look surprised. "Whyever would you say something such as that?" Matt asked, making his tone sarcastic but believable. Despite the forced Bravado, his voice was weak and strained. It wasn't a physical fatigue that had him, although there was that as well. Some bright-spot nurse just had ''had'' to drug him with pain-relievers that had a side-effect of just ''happening'' to make him drowsy, ''right'' as the Admiral had come to the door. The pain-relievers were welcome, despite this, because for every waking hour Matt had suffered through today, immense migraines had assailed him and left him fragile in mind and body.
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| − | "How does a sixteen year old PFC take charge over a group of evacuees with soldiers ranked Sergeant obeying him? Not even a complaint from the older or more experienced men, who followed you blindly. You ''are'' a natural leader, and no matter what I do, the men will follow. This could be potentially dangerous because of both your youth and your inexperience. If you were to make a bad decision and the others to follow, we could have hypothetically damaging results. Especially if word of this got out to the media. You've created a proper storm, and make no mistake."
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| − | Matt's face creased suddenly with lines, and his face took on a dark, forbidding cast. The Admiral blinked; was it just him, or had the lights flickered?
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| − | "I'm sorry if it seems that way, sir," Matt said, all traces of weakness gone from his voice. "I was trying to get them out alive. I hadn't considered the possible ramifications of surviving."
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| − | "No, you hadn't, and that's exactly why, as soon as you've recovered-" Admiral Ford paused as Jamie, Scar, and Holly walked into the room. Matt cast an envious glance at them; they hadn't needed as much time to recover. Psi really took it out of him.
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| − | "-Well, to put it bluntly, there's a draft. World War Three has started. And you four are going to be the heroes of it." Ford ended candidly.
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| − | "A draft? Is it really that bad? Things can't have gotten ''that'' out of hand." Holly said.
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| − | "I suppose you four haven't had much access to the news lately..." Ford crossed the room in three quick strides and plucked a remote off a bedside table.
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| − | He pressed a button, and a flat-screen LCD TV sank out of the ceiling and jumped to life, painting a beautiful picture. On the screen, a news reporter was talking, but Matt was completely lost in the picture. The camera was recording a tropical paradise.
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| − | Azure, crystal clear water lapped gently up against a white powder beach. The display was good enough to pick up the individual grains of fine sand when the camera zoomed in. Delicately swaying palm trees sprang up further inland, dotted here and there with round coconuts. Soft rocks rose from the beach at irregular intervals, and char-gray mountains were placed in a long line up and down the coast. It was beautiful.
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| − | Ford switched off the TV. "What you are seeing is beyond anything. Two days ago, on December 12th, 2012, at 12:12 AM and 12 seconds, this landmass surfaced. This is in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and confirmed reports from our Air Force base in the Azore Mountain Range detail an extensive tropical jungle extending in all directions away from the mountains. The Azore Island Mountain Range just became a part of a larger landmass. A satellite photo," here he paused and held it up; "shows that this is huge. This is an eighth continent."
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| − | "In short, you're talking about Atlantis."
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| − | Ford's mouth quirked. "Quite. And then there is the matter of your... psi abilities. We will be sending you to a military training camp that specializes in the paranormal. There you will be trained in the use of your mind and body, as well as go through the regular advanced training regimen. That's all four of you."
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| − | "Yes sir." Matt said, then started casting off blankets.
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| − | Holly and Scar shared a smile as he stood. Matt was wearing only a short hospital gown that went to about mid-thigh, and they were at a remarkably awkward angle. Matt rifled through a drawer, found a pair of camo pants, and slipped them on. He turned to find both the girls grinning mischievously, Jamie struggling not to laugh, and Ford, oddest of all, winked at him. Matt blinked, surprised, but found a shirt and shrugged it on.
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| − | "Alright. I've had enough of lying around in bed. What's going on? What's this world war three thing?" Matt demanded.
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| − | "Our little ''spat'' with France was one of many. It's shaping up like axis and allies all over again." Ford said bitterly. "So far, we know that the UK is backing us. The United States of Mexico is mobilizing an armed force to fight with us. Australia, is of course, with Britain, and so technically on our side. Beyond that, we don't know. Russia has already risen to the top and publicly proclaimed that they will use every resource to bring us down. France is backing them. China, Japan, and North Korea... well, it was only a matter of time.
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| − | "And then there's the matter of the new continent. That's what this fight is really over. Our resources have been stretched too thin as of late. And it just so happens that this... Atlantis... is Mother Nature's supply dump for everything humans have want or need for. Oil, precious metals, pearls, wood, iron, coal... its all there. But what is strange-," Ford again displayed the satellite photo, "- is that this continent is inhabited."
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| − | "As you can see, this continent consists of six main landmasses arranged in a ring. The largest and outermost ring extends all the way from the North Atlantic, around Europe, down to South America, and forms a rough three-pieced shield into the other two rings. The next ring is comprised of two more islands, with the third landmass centered between them. And in the center of this island is another, artificial island."
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| − | "Artificial?" Scar asked skeptically.
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| − | "Artificial." Ford confirmed, "And its a city." There he paused to let it sink in. "This archipelago is inhabited. By humans.
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| − | "Right now, the UN has a coastal blockade and has officially disallowed any and all humans excepting the natives themselves to step foot on the continent. That has bought us the precious time we need to assemble an army, train soldiers, spin a draft, and prepare for war." Ford sat back in an armchair and surveyed the crew.
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| − | "Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's roll." Jamie said.
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| − | '''Three Days Later'''
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| − | Matt winced as he entered the Mess Hall, suddenly surrounded on all sides by the conversation and confusion only found when 1,000 soldiers were thrown into one enormous building. After suffering through the line, Matt took a tray, and followed by his crew, found a near-empty table. The only other occupant was another kid, around 16. His head was newly shaved, a dark brown color to his hair.
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| − | Matt sat across from him. "Malcolm Pierce." He said, shaking his head. Then he got up, crossed over, and embraced Malcolm, unintentionally lifting him a half inch into the air. "Man, I haven't seen you in, what, a year?"
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| − | "Matt, they sent you here too?"
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| − | "Yeah. So if you don't mind me asking, what form do you use? And how did you figure out you had it?"
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| − | "Funny story, really," Malcolm said as they sat back down. "Someone attempted to mug me. We got into this grapple and we just started fighting and well... long story short, I found out I like Pyrokinesis. The guy's still in the hospital, I think, with burns over his entire body. Anyways, a police cruiser picked me up, they checked me out, and sent me here. How about you?"
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| − | "My story's a bit longer."
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| − | "We've got the time."
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| − | "This is true. Yeah so, me and the crew," Matt gestured around. Malcolm went to school with Matt, Holly, and Scar, or at least had, a year ago, but Jamie was new to him. "Oh, right, this is Jamie. Anyways, me and the crew were on vacation, on a tour of Europe. We were in France when the French President was assassinated in America, and so naturally the French military went out and started killing off all the Americans. So we stopped by the US Embassy, got pressed into combat service, participated in a rescue mission, got back to the Embassy and almost got blown up when these two saboteurs set a charge.
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| − | "We were standing around in the lobby when the explosion happened, and I instinctively put a telekinetic shield around us, so we survived. After that, we held off a French stormtrooper assault, got all the survivors out, took a grand tour down roads in a Humvee at 90 miles an hour while being shot at by three planes, and then stopped for extraction at this parking garage courtyard thing, where our Sargent was injured and we were surrounded. Lucky for us those F-22 pilots were good shots."
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| − | "Oh yeah, it was lots of fun." Jamie said, pointing out various bruises that lingered on his body. "Check this one out. I landed on top of a filing cabinet in the explosion." Jamie explained as he rolled up his shirt and displayed a yellow-and-purple streak that ran from his armpit down to his waist. "Almost busted a rib." Malcolm and Matt grinned, while the two girls just looked at each other.
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| − | "Did you get any Nutella?" Malcolm asked expectantly, refering to the chocolate-hazelnut spread that Matt loved.
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| − | "Awch, of the one thing I didn't do." Matt groaned. "I saved a company of marines, but forgot the Nutella."
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| − | "Don't you worry, they'll work you hard enough here you won't have time to remember anything about France."
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| − | "That's terrific. When do we get started?"
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| − | "This base is divided into camps, which are divided into squads of five. You four are in my squad. Matt's the CO (Commanding Officer), I think."
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| − | "Nice." Holly said.
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| − | "And our training starts tomorrow. The schedule rotates from day to day, but our classes include all the regular Advanced Training that the standard infantry gets, plus the extra psi-training that we psi-infantry get. You'll have to go another basic-training regimen also, but the PT (Physical Training) won't be as harsh here."
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| − | "I always did hate physical." Matt said.
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| − | "Mostly we work on controlling psi and different occupational skills." Malcolm agreed.
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| − | "How's the food?" Jamie and Matt asked together. Malcolm grimaced.
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| − | "It's not up to my standards, but... not quite as bad as school's."
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| − | After lunch, Matt, Jamie, Holly, Scar, and Malcolm walked back to their assigned campsite, half a mile uphill. The five of them slung hammocks between trees in one communal social area, and spent the rest of the day talking.
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| − | Matt was dividing his attention between a book, cleaning his knife, swinging in his hammock, and conversing with his friends. Jamie and Malcolm were both playing with lighters, trading various models and debating the merits of each. Scar was flicking matches into a square of dirt, and Holly was whittling a piece of wood into a small canoe.
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| − | "These instructors are vicious, I'm telling you," Malcolm was saying. "I've been here four days, but they've been waiting to put me into a unit, I guess 'cause I'm with you guys. But I heard about this one guy. He got ''kicked out'' because he tried to openly strike one of his squadmates. They had been tormenting him for weeks here, small stuff like pulling pranks, setting traps and stuff. But finally he snapped, rushed one of the guys, and had his face in the ground with three DI's on his back before they had gone more than a minute."
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| − | "That sucks." Scar put in. "What happened to the other guys?"
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| − | "Latrine duty." Malcolm answered. Jamie cackled next to him.
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| − | In this fashion, the time passed quickly. Dinner passed in the same manner, and then the five of them were back at camp, setting up their sleeping bags and pillows into their hammocks. Matt quickly drifted off to sleep.
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| − | "WAKE UP, RECRUITS!"
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| − | Matt jerked to awareness and jumped out of bed, yanking his blade out and flipping it open. He paused, wild-eyed, and looked around for threats. The Drill Sergeant, or DS, smirked and yelled, "Well! There's a good bit a' fight in this one." even as the other four crawled out of bed with low grumblings. "Alright, recruits! Wake up, come on!"
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| − | Matt shook his head clear, closed his knife, and started to shrug into his clothes. "Too slow, ladies, too slow!"
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| − | The other camps were similarly woken.
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| − | "Alright, recruits. We're going for a run. Now move it out!" The DS said, motioning to his Drill Instructors to carry out his orders. Several sleep-hazed soldiers tried to resist, and the DIs set among them with electric batons. The soldiers yelped and fell into line.
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| − | The DS set a brisk pace, and the soldiers followed him through the camp, eventually ending up standing at the edge of a giant pool. Out of the pool rose tall metal struts up to fifty feet in length and height. The tallest pole, set in the middle, had a bell on top.
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| − | "Here's the drill. All of you will separate into your squads and line up along this line." The DS said, pointing at a solid white line drawn in chalk. "At the sound of the gun, you will attempt to climb up and reach the bell. The first team to ring it and return to this line wins. Last place team gets no dessert tonight." He pulled out a pristine Heckler and Koch USP and pointed it at the ground.
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| − | Matt quickly surveyed the best route. The metal monkey bars had all kinds of ways to proceed, such as monkey bridges set between two poles, a rope-and-pulley system attached to a bucket, and small grooves cut into the side of other poles for use as handholds. Matt grinned. He loved climbing.
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| − | "Ready? Go!" The DS shouted, and fired a round into the dirt.
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| − | Matt sprang forward at the sound, and mere milliseconds later the rest of the soldiers followed. Matt wasn't particularly fast, and he was forced to watch without being able to do anything more than put extra energy into running forward as the faster soldiers quickly outstripped him. Matt jumped into the pool and started slogging through the waist-high water. Holly, Jamie, Scarlett and Malcolm were lost back in the middle of the pack, and Matt mentally shook his head. They would only slow him down.
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| − | Matt reached the base of the pole with the bell housed on it and began to directly shimmy up its length, locking his legs around it and using the friction they provided to hoist himself up.
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| − | He went up the entire length of the pole and grasped the bell, rang it three times, and slid back down the pole, fire-fighter style. He landed, casting up a large sheet of water, and then was up and running to the finish. He slid back behind the line, first place, and stood. His chest was heaving as he tried to regain his breath - he had been sprinting all out the entire time, and a fifty-foot climb was no joke.
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| − | Matt looked over to the DS, expecting praise, but found that the Drill Sergeant was staring at him, boring twin holes into his skull. The DS shook his head slightly and looked to the ground.
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| − | Matt watched as each of the rest of his squadmates rang the bell and ran across the finish. They weren't dead last, but they weren't first, either. The four of them gave Matt a grumpy look, but he shrugged.
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| − | The last team ran across the line, looking miserable at the prospect of no dessert.
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| − | "Excellent." The DS shouted to the troops. "A fine display. Now lets see..." The DS walked among the ranks and stopped in front of Matt. "What's your name, son?"
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| − | "Matthew Kenderson." Matt stood at attention and saluted. "Private First Class, US Army."
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| − | "Here is our first finisher. Kenderson: No dessert. The rest of you earned your sweets fair and square. I'll see you all at lunch." The DS nodded. "Kenderson, a word with you." And motioned with a finger.
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| − | The last place team looked amazed at their luck and walked back to the showers in high spirits.
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| − | Matt followed the DS to a portable table set off to the side of the pool of water. "Now, what did you do wrong."
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| − | Matt stared at the DS. "Sir, with all due respect, I finished first. Why-"
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| − | "Exactly. ' ''I'' ' finished first. There is no 'I' in your squad. There is no me. There is us. And there is we. No I. So yes, you did finish first, Matthew. But your ''team'' didn't."
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| − | "Sir, they were slowing me down, I had to-"
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| − | Matt was silenced by such a sharp look from the DS that it probably could have cut a sheet of paper in half. "Never, ever, ever let me hear you complain again about your team being a liability. In combat, who watches your back? Not God. Your team does. Who do you come to rely on in the midst and confusion of battle? Not your general. Your team. Who will drag your skinny white ass out of the line of fire when you've got a shot-up leg, putting their own at risk while doing so? Not yourself. Not 'me.' Not 'I.' Your team."
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| − | Matt was subdued by these remarks, and so just said dispassionately, "Yes sir."
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| − | "Good. And that will be the end of that. Go, take a shower, join your squad. You and your company will report to the shooting range in an hour. I will inform the dining staff that you are to have no dessert for today. I will see you tomorrow, same place and time, and expect that you will have remedied the flaws in your conduct by then." It was a dismissal, and required no answer, so Matt gave none and jogged back to the showers.
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| − | An hour later, he and the squad were at the 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 extended 50-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 HK Magnum that will fire 12.7mm semi-explosive rounds, to punch through armor and stuff.
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| − | "And so, that is what we will learn today. 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 12-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 50-round magazines for it on the lefthand table as well.
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| − | Holly reloaded the quickest, dropping the clip even as she reached for the new one, slid the clip home on the first shove, and cocked the slide. Matt and Jamie got it half a second later, followed by Scar, and then Malcolm.
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| − | "Sweet..." Jamie muttered as he brought the gun to bear.
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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? 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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| − | Holly again proved to be the quickest at reloading.
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| − | “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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| − | Malcolm proved to be the best with the carbine. Looking through the optical sighting, he had the tightest grouping of bursts and closest to the center.
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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 50-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, but to his surprise Holly had already been doing that. She gave him a superior feminine smile and kept firing.
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| − | | + | |
| − | “Reload and Fire at Will!” The DS instructed. Matt 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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| − | | + | |
| − | “Wait 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.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Well, it seems to me that the better equipment should be used." Scar said, perplexed. "Or is this country run by idiots?"
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "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 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 and made to put on the jet-black, padded, skin-tight undersuits, identical to the ones Matt had used in France. Over the pads came the plated armor, but instead of matte-black, the armor here was olive-drab, speckled with brown and forest green. A kind of general-purpose camouflaged armor.
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| − | | + | |
| − | They donned helmets with integrated HUD, Global Unit Status Subsystem (GUSS), Biostat monitors, comm. system, and visor filters, just as in Paris. 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 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 is 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 on Osprey and get ready to roll."
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| − | "Soldiers, you will be deployed via the 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, Luna!" Holly yelled over their Team comm.
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| − | | + | |
| − | "Roger that, Aura." Matt yelled back. Each of them had callsigns. His was Luna. 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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| − | "Luna, can I reconfigure my rifle 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's countdown ended. "Alright people, we can now shoot at and be shot. Let's wrap this up." Malcolm layed 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. "Luna, 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, Luna." Malcolm said, and tossed a grenade out the opening of the cave. It exploded, and Malcolm heard someone groan. "Yeah, bring it!"
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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 check. 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 right 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. Before he could recover, Scar punched another round into his chest. He spun halfway around and ate the dirt.
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| − | | + | |
| − | Three down. The last upright 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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| − | | + | |
| − | "Al''right!''" 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.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "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.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | 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 for flankers." Matt advised. 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 passed over them and drilled into a tree.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | 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.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | Then Scar took a burst 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 nailed from behind.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | 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 them both out.
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | The DS broke through their comm. lines, "Cease fire. Echo team, you have won the mission. We will collect you shortly. Hold position."
| + | |
| − | | + | |
| − | "Roger that." Matt responded. "Alright, lady and gentleman. We won!"
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| − | | + | |
| − | They 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. What would have happened had they been live rounds? Scar and Malcolm, gone, blink of an eye, without ever seeing their attackers. This was war.
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