The second week was spent shooting at targets at various ranges while moving. It wasn’t really maneuvering so much as walk, target pops up, shoot it type thing. It reminded Bill more of a video game than anything else. It was designed to get the platoon used to making a decision while moving, not to just expect all contact to be from a fighting position.
The third week was the most exciting. Using some of the maneuvering techniques they learned the first week, the platoon was broken down into fire teams of four, then squads of twelve. First in fire team formation, then in squad formation, and with a lot of coaching by Renard, the platoon worked its way through a live fire exercise with pop-up targets. “Remember, no shooting on the other side of your team or squad. Face outward and only, I repeat, ONLY shoot in the direction you’re facing. This ain’t a real war, so no need for anyone to die by friendly fire.”
Bill was disappointed when firearms training ended, and found field medicine rather boring, having already done a lot of medical training through Boy Scouts.
Weapons familiarization piqued his interest, though. For a week the platoon learned about the various weaponry in the HDF arsenal: explosives, such as hand grenades and directional mines, grenade launchers, anti-tank rockets, machine guns, and even some weaponry of potential enemies (Bill was slightly amused when one of the weapons was US Army standard issue M-4).
The next to last week of training focused on close-quarter combat. This not only included how to fire and maneuver in buildings and urban settings, but also some basic hand-to-hand combat. Bill was pitted against Thep at one point and figured he would have no problem taking the smaller man down. It came as a surprise when he found himself flat on his back on the ground, the breath knocked out of him, and a smiling Thep staring down at him. “You all right, man?”
Weekends for Bill were a combination of fly fishing the nearby Naches River and its tributaries, forays into Milton, and hanging out with his roommates and various female companions at the Cave Bear Cave. The pain over losing Jessica was still fresh and deep enough, that he didn’t form any attachments with the various women, but he did enjoy their company.
Finally, training was over, and the platoon joined formation with the other platoons. Each was recognized and given a graduation certificate and an assignment to the local militia. Bill noticed that it was to Sacajawea Base.
That evening Renard treated the platoon to drinks at the Cave Bear Cave, letting them know he’d be proud to have any one of them in his platoon if they ever decided to leave the Corps and join the military. Bill figured he was just saying that because nobody had shot anybody by accident. Nevertheless, Bill enjoyed the drinks while also catching glimpses of Matt and Nicole enjoying drinks and each other’s company.
Later that night, while lying in bed, Bill took stock of his situation. While things were certainly different than he’d expected, they were also more exciting, despite the fact that he was doing pretty much mundane things any new recruit in any military on Earth would be doing. He had enjoyed the firearms training and was looking forward to more of it, as it was always something he enjoyed. It was one thing that he and "the Colonel" did together. Thinking about that got Bill wondering how his father was faring—a widower and all alone on Earth, his only son gone off on an adventure on a different planet. It reminded Bill of his grandmother’s stories about how it was to have a son go off to war, never knowing if he’d make it home, and watching it all on television. At least they aren’t broadcasting this live, Bill thought.
Eventually, Bill got to sleep, and his alarm woke him all too early. He still hadn’t adjusted to the whole “early to bed, early to rise” thing that the Corps seemed to revel in (at least, from his perspective as a Probie going through basic militia training).
8
Finally, after almost nine weeks on Hayek, Bill and his fellow Probies were about to begin their actual training for the jobs they’d been hired for.
On Saturday morning Bill woke early with only a mild hangover, attacked it with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin, started a pot of coffee for the gang, and then checked his email. Sure enough, there was a message from the Director of Training, Corps of Discovery.
Bill was to check in at the auditorium for orientation on Monday at eight o’clock in the morning, followed by equipment draw. He was to report to the Remote Sensing and GIS Department after lunch, to evaluate his knowledge skills and then to train him on the Corps’ methods and equipment. Further training would be assigned based on his completion of all necessary development and training.
Bill decided to spend the weekend relaxing and doing some fly fishing on the Yakima River, a river he had yet to try, so he did a quick search to see what kind of guide services existed. Instead, he discovered a business that rented one-person inflatable pontoon boats. He could rent the pontoon, be dropped off on the north side of the Yakima Canyon, then be picked up downriver on the south side of the canyon.
Bill called the company and was pleasantly surprised when somebody answered at the other end, despite the early hour. He was able to reserve a boat for the afternoon. It was already too late for the morning bite, but he should see some action for the evening bite. Bill asked about where he could get a fishing license and was caught off guard when the person on the other end of the line laughed out loud. “You ain’t commercial fishing, are you?” Bill replied in the negative and was told that he didn’t need no stinkin’ license.
After reserving the boat, Bill helped himself to a cup of coffee and then read some news. His first stop was The Explorer where he saw an article about the incoming class of Explorers, with all of their names, a headshot, and a brief biography about each person. Bill’s was a condensed version of the bio he filled out when he applied to the Corps.
Coffee finished, Bill went back upstairs, showered, dressed, and headed out for breakfast. The others were still sleeping. Probably trying to sleep off hangovers, considering how much they drank last night, he thought. Then again, that was one helluva party.
The cafeteria was a lonely affair, with very few Probies in attendance, none of whom he recognized. He got in the very short food line behind a young woman, almost as tall as he, with short red hair. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, so even though she was facing away from him, Bill could see she was tanned. Huh, I thought redheads only burned. As she reached for a bowl of fruit, Bill could see her facial profile. Her nose was slightly upturned and there was a smattering of freckles along the bridge. All in all, from what Bill could see, it was a rather pleasant-looking face, and not one he recognized from dining in the cafeteria for the past nine weeks.
Once his plate was full, biscuits and gravy with a helping of fresh fruit, he sought out a table alone. As he was passing the table where the redhead was seated, he changed his mind. “Mind if I join you?”
“Sure,” she said, looking up.
Bill sat down and introduced himself, holding his hand out to her.
Taking it, she said with a smile, “Meri Lewis.” Bill noticed that she had perfect white teeth when she smiled and that they stood in stark contrast to her tan and her bright blue eyes. He remembered reading somewhere that only one percent of the human population had that combination of hair and eye color, and he was fascinated by it.
Bill thought for a second, then laughed a short laugh. “Now that’s too funny. Lewis and Clark in the Corps of Discovery.”
“I was just thinking that,” she replied, still smiling. “I guess this is the future adventures of Lewis and Clark.”
“Not to sound presumptuous, but I don’t recall seeing you around before,” Bill said, taking a bite of biscuit and gravy.
“That’s because I haven’t been around. I just got in yesterday.”
Bill raised an eyebrow at that. “Didn’t you go through BMT?”
“Oh, yeah. I did that years ago,” she replied.
It then dawned on Bill that Meri was another Hayeker. “Ah, I got it. You’re local.”
“Ye
p. Born and raised. You?”
Bill told her briefly about his upbringing and education.
“That must be difficult, moving all the time,” she said. “I’ve only lived on base. I didn’t even go away for uni, just took the skytrain to Hayek U.”
“It’s not too difficult, especially when it’s all you’ve known. I always thought it strange that people didn’t move every year or two. So, what did you study?”
“Ah, the norm for Explorers,” Meri said. “Exploration Science, with a minor in frontier economics.”
“I’ve heard of Exploration Science, but what’s frontier economics?”
“Oh, just the usual stuff—economics as it applies to the frontier environment. You know, what types of industries are best to bring in, where to locate communities to optimize resources, et cetera.”
“Sounds almost like economic geography.”
“There’s certainly a lot of that included,” Meri replied with a smile. Bill noticed that when she smiled her entire face seemed to light up.
They talked about geography, economics, and exploration until they had both emptied their plates. Bill even got them both second cups of coffee so they could continue the conversation.
Eventually, the two realized that they were the only ones left in the cafeteria, and decided they should beat a retreat.
“Say, I’m going to be gone the rest of the day, but could I meet you for supper tonight?” Bill asked Meri as he held open the cafeteria door as they stepped out.
“I’d like that. What are you doing that you won’t be here today?”
“Fly fishing on the Yakima.”
“I love fly fishing!” Meri exclaimed. “I hope you don’t think I’m being forward, but would you mind some company?”
Bill couldn’t believe his good fortune. And here he was thinking about how lucky Matt had been to find Nicole. Hah! he thought, how about them apples? Any thought of Jessica was now an ephemeral one, quickly being replaced by this new and exciting woman.
“Mind? Nope, I don’t mind at all. I’d love it. Problem is, though, I only reserved a single-seat pontoon boat.”
“Who did you rent with? They might be happy to trade up to a drift boat.”
Bill told her the company’s name, and Meri told him to call them back and see about upgrading. “Since I invited myself, I’m in for half the cost.”
Bill called, and sure enough, the company was happy to upgrade.
“Great. It’s settled. I’ll get my gear and meet you at the station. What time?” she asked.
“The reservation’s for two, and I was planning on doing lunch in Milton. How about eleven?”
“That works. I’ll see you then.” She gave Bill a smile, turned, and walked off. Bill just watched her walk, and was pleasantly surprised when she turned around, smiled at him again, and then resumed walking.
Back at the cabin, Bill gathered his fishing equipment: fly rod, net, waders, wading boots, fishing vest with flies and nippers, and his ventilated hat. The fly rod was a four-piece St. Croix 5 weight he had bought in his junior year of college and had only used a couple of times around Seattle. It was a great, fast action rod, but really only good for smaller fish—definitely not a salmon rig. The rest of the gear was new, recently acquired and used only a couple of times on the Naches and a couple of its tributaries, all on base. Everything went into a small duffel bag that he could easily carry slung over his shoulder.
Despite the time spent gathering his equipment, Bill realized he still had another hour until he would meet Meri. He couldn’t believe how antsy he felt. Damn, is this how Matt feels all the time? he thought.
He headed downstairs to bide his time on the internet. He was surprised to see Jordan in the living room, slumped in one of the chairs and nursing a fresh cup of coffee.
“Hey, look who’s risen from the dead,” he joked.
“Yeah, dead. That’s me. Wish I really was, the way I’m feeling,” Jordan mumbled.
“Water and aspirin, buddy, water and aspirin,” Bill said, dropping the duffel on the floor.
“Ow, do you have to be throwin’ that stuff around?” Jordan complained, wincing.
“I’ll try to be more quiet,” Bill said, plopping himself down in the other chair and activating his tablet.
Gradually, the other roommates materialized, each getting a cup of coffee and looking like something the cat dragged in.
Finally, it was time. “See you guys later,” Bill said. “Don’t wait supper on me.” He received grunts in return.
Bill arrived at the skytrain station shortly before eleven and was surprised to see Meri already waiting for him. Along with a duffel, she had her militia rifle slung over her shoulder. Feeling a bit chagrined, he asked her about the rifle.
“You never know when you’ll need it. Seein’ how the Yakima Canyon isn’t developed, anything might pop up. You have to remember, animals on Hayek aren’t particularly afraid of humans yet, so to them we’re just another meal. And there’s always the Gaia Firsters we’ve gotta watch out for.”
Bill hadn’t even considered that and admitted as much to Meri. “Should I go back and get mine?” he asked.
“Naw. One should be enough,” she said. “After all, we’ll mainly be in a boat near civilization. Not likely we’ll get attacked by anything on the water.”
The two entered the station and chatted amiably while awaiting a train. Soon, one showed up, with only a few people getting off, most in Corps uniforms, but with some children sprinkled among them. Bill was used to this: most of the children were dependents of Explorers and other employees of the Corps.
Meri and Bill entered a train car and were soon on their way.
Lunch was at a small cafe in Milton near the skytrain station. The ambiance wasn’t great, but it also wasn’t a cafeteria on base. The two enjoyed each other’s company and compared fishing techniques. Bill pumped Meri for information on salmon fishing on Hayek and wasn’t surprised when she pulled out her tablet and showed him a picture of a Chinook she had caught earlier in the spring.
“It topped out at over 30 kilos,” she said. Bill was impressed. Compared to the largest one he had ever caught, a 35-pounder (or about 16 kilos in Hayek’s terms), it was huge.
After lunch, they caught the skytrain again. They transferred trains once and were soon at the last station at the mouth of the Yakima Canyon. Exiting the station, they spied the boat rental shop across the street. That’s convenient, Bill thought.
Inside the shop, they found a small retail area with an assortment of fishing and hunting paraphernalia lining the walls and on racks between the entrance and a counter near the rear of the store. A young woman set a tablet down on the counter and said, “Hi. How can I help you?”
“We reserved a drift boat for two o’clock,” Meri answered.
“Right. Well, let’s get you guys set up so you can get on the river.”
Meri worked through most of the transaction while Bill stood, watched, and learned. While it wasn’t his first financial transaction on Hayek, he still felt a bit intimidated while striving to learn the social mores of his new home.
The clerk told them about a restaurant adjacent to the boat rental shop that would be glad to cook their catch. “They’ve got the most amazing way of cooking trout with a hazelnut crust. On top of that, all the veggies they serve come straight from their own farm.”
Soon, the two were riding in the back of a Kenji along a narrow gravel road through the Yakima Canyon, following the river upstream. Bill had been surprised to hear that the boats were kept upriver during the day, taken up early in the morning, before sunrise, and rented out on a first-come, first-served basis. He was further surprised to find out that some boats were still available. When he asked why, he was told that most people were switching from trout fishing to salmon as the salmon season was beginning in earnest on the rivers of Cascadia, with some being reported in the Nch'i-Wana, which Bill knew as the Columbia River. He would have loved to go salmon f
ishing, but with only a weekend off, he didn’t have time to get to one of the coastal rivers, particularly the northern ones where the salmon runs were in full swing. He figured he would enjoy fly fishing for trout with reduced crowds, especially with his newest companion.
Once the Kenji arrived at the boat launch, the driver got out to help Meri and Bill load and launch the drift boat.
“Okay. You got your PFDs in the bottom here. There’s four, so that should be more than enough. You can see both oars. Just lock ‘em in the oarlocks before heading out. Don’t want ‘em falling out, ‘cause that would kinda suck. Here’s a map of the river,” he said, handing over a plastic-encased topographic map to Bill, “and remember, the limit is two keepers each. Leave something for the rest of us.” He smiled, “You two ever use one of these?”
“Oh, yeah. Lots of times,” Meri replied.
“Great. See you downriver at the end of the day then.” With that, the young man hopped back in the Kenji, started it up, did a three-point turn in the boat ramp area, and headed back down the gravel road, through the canyon.
Bill and Meri loaded their gear into the boat, donned their wading gear, and then pushed it out into the river, each jumping in as their section of the boat began floating.
Soon they were drifting down the river, making short casts from seated positions in the boat. Occasionally they would pull the boat to shore, anchor it, get out and fly fish while wading.
It seemed the trout were in a frantic feeding frenzy, as both had continuous strikes. While drifting and wading, the two kept up a continuous chatter. Bill learned that, like him, Meri was an only child, and that her mother had passed away when she was young. He was a little disconcerted to learn that her father was also the Commandant of the entire Corps of Discovery.
Bill told Meri about his aborted engagement, and how he had chosen the Corps over his fiance.
The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history Page 10