“Here stands Sergeant Roger Halcomb. He served gallantly and with great courage, laying down his own life willingly so that others could survive. His heroism stands as a shining example for all of us to follow,” Hereford said.
“My god,” McInness whispered. “That’s him?”
Halcomb was something of a legend, even though it had only been a couple of months since his passing. The Space Force public relations department had taken Charline’s idea and rolled with it, making Halcomb into the sort of larger-than-life hero humanity needed. There was even talk about a motion picture about him. Hereford wasn’t surprised McInness knew the name.”
“That’s him. He died in his Armor. Fried himself so that the rest of his team could jump through a wormhole to get home,” Hereford said. “Colonel Foster was going to do it, but Halcomb there, he shoved her out of the way and stepped in to take the hit himself.”
McInness was sharp. He got the comparison right away. “But unlike me, he actually saved his commander, instead of getting him killed.”
“Got it in one,” Hereford said. “Son, there are times we have to do what’s right even when ordered to do something else. Those times are damned rare. Most of the time, our commanders know more about the situation than we do. Even when they don’t, failing to follow an order still puts people at risk.”
He paused, looking down at the recruit. “Yeah, sometimes we need a Halcomb, willing to sacrifice himself so others can live. But most of the time we need you in one piece so that you can fight another day.”
McInness nodded. He reached out with one hand to trace his fingers along the foot of Halcomb’s armor. Hereford wondered what he was thinking. Had he said the right things to set the boy straight? He hoped so. He wasn’t a psych guy. That was Bristol’s job. But he knew people well enough that he could see McInness was still hurting. A little encouragement couldn’t help.
“Go back to your platoon, recruit. Do better next time,” Hereford said.
“I will, sir,” McInness replied.
Eleven
Another day, another drill. Owen was exhausted from the constant marching to get from one part of the base to the other, but that was the least of the efforts the recruits were forced to handle. On top of the physical exertion, they were also expected to devour tomes on mechanical engineering, electronics, tactics, and more. Oh, and also learn how to expertly control a brand new type of machine that only a few dozen people in the world knew how to use well...
Saying it was hectic was an understatement. Owen never felt like there was enough time in a given day. After the conversation with General Hereford the night before, he was more determined than ever to do a better job this time.
Graham was changing things up, though. This time the squads wouldn’t be going into the sims one at a time. They’d had a chance to learn from each other’s mistakes, but now they were going to get to make their own. One instructor would watch each squad, rating them.
Owen’s heart sank when he saw Captain Pahwel coming over toward his squad. He was pretty sure the captain still disliked him, and that wasn’t going to make this any easier. Sure enough, Pahwel was to be their instructor for the day. He’d rate their progress.
“Into your Armor, recruits! I’ll be booting up your exercise shortly,” Pahwel said.
Owen went with the others to get strapped into the simulators. He’d just about finished when he looked up and saw Pahwel standing beside him, staring down.
“Sir? Did you need something?” Owen asked.
“I saw the way you handled the last simulation,” Pahwel replied. “You need to rein it in. Get yourself under control out there, or you’re useless to us. You can still be trimmed from the program.”
Owen kept his mouth shut as tight as he could to avoid saying something he was going to regret. Finally, he unclenched his jaw enough to reply. “Yes, sir.”
Pahwel nodded to him and walked away. Owen slammed shut his canopy a lot harder than he had to and went about booting his simulated suit to life. Damn the man! Yes, he’d screwed up. That didn’t mean he was going to do it again.
Roberts’ voice came to him over a private channel. “Hey, I heard that. Let it go, man. Don’t let him get to you. Let’s just get this done.”
Owen felt a flash of gratitude. “Thanks, Roberts. I’ve got your back.”
“Good,” Roberts replied. Then he laughed. “Literally, it looks like. See our loadouts?”
Owen checked his boards. They were armed with entirely different sets of gear this time. Owen’s Armor had no close range weapons at all; he had four racks of long-range missiles instead. Last time he’d wished for some missiles, and this time... Well, something to deal with a Bug that got in too close would have been nice.
The rest of his team were all armed with shorter-range gear. They had machine guns and blades. Interesting. That could actually work if they deployed right. Owen hoped Roberts would see it as well.
“What are you thinking?” Roberts asked him.
Owen was surprised that he’d ask. “Um. Well, I’m our damage dealer, but if they get in close, I’m toast. If the three of you can screen me for long enough, we can win this.”
“I was thinking the same,” Roberts replied. He opened the channel up to the entire squad. “All right. Kowal, Hernandez, with me. We run interference for McInness while he dishes out some death to the Bugs. We good?”
“Ready up,” Kowal said.
“Good to go here,” Hernandez replied.
They all dropped into the simulation, their screens lighting up with images. This wasn’t a grassy meadow. Instead, they were inside the ruins of a city. It had been trashed. There wasn’t a single intact building to be seen anywhere. The jagged remnants reached toward the sky like skeletal fingers. Overhead, the sky was dark, roiling grey clouds blocking the stars from view. Here and there in the distance Owen saw the flash of explosions light up the night.
“Damned realistic,” Hernandez said. He sounded nervous.
Roberts broke in. “Let’s keep it together. Move out. We’re in MOUT here, so let’s change things up a bit. Kowal, take point with Rodriguez. McInness in the middle, I’ll bring up the rear.”
MOUT — Military Operations in Urban Terrain — was always risky even at the best of times. It was damned hard to engage an enemy when you couldn’t see them coming, and in a place like this there could be bugs around any corner. Owen checked his gear over and saw he’d missed one item on his first pass.
“Hey, I’ve got a drone,” Owen said. “You want me to get us some aerial recon?”
“Do it,” Roberts said.
Owen launched the drone, allowing it to soar overhead. It was computer controlled, so he didn’t have to worry about steering the thing. Once the Bugs spotted it, they’d take it out, but in the meantime it would allow his team to get a birds-eye view of the battlefield.
He almost immediately wished he hadn’t been able to see what was coming. “We’ve got Bugs. Lots and lots of Bugs.”
Roberts saw them, too. “We can’t take that many in a straight up fight. Suggestions?”
“Find cover,” Kowal said. “At ten o’clock, there’s a building we can use as a defensive position.”
“I see it. Make for it, top speed,” Roberts replied.
They made the dash over to the spot Kowal pointed out as quickly as they were able. The terrain was broken and littered with rubble, but that was the sort of thing their Armor was designed to handle well. They could maintain a good speed even over the roughest surfaces. The squad made it inside the building before the Bugs arrived.
Owen looked around. On the west and north sides, the walls were still mostly intact. They had good cover there. But although the opposite corner was still more or less in one piece, the east and south walls had massive holes torn in them. The Bugs could climb, so nowhere was really safe. But they’d be most likely to try the easiest routes first.
“Kowal, take up a position near the southeast corner wher
e you can assist either breach. I’ve got the south end, Hernandez east. Mac, blast them to bits as they come.”
They barely had time to maneuver into position before the drone footage showed the Bugs swarming toward them. There had to be dozens of them. Owen sat there in awe of the wave of terror headed there way. He snapped out of it when Hernandez opened up on the nearest with his machine guns. His people were counting on him!
The drone gave him an excellent view of the enemy formation, such as it was. It also let him precisely place the first volley of missiles for maximum effect. He fired all four launchers, the rockets blazing into the air. They soared skyward before turning around and descending toward the ground with even more speed.
The night turned into day as four massive explosions lit up everything. Bits of Bug armor pinged off buildings. The stone walls, crumbling already, fell apart still further. The enemy force stalled its charge. Two injured Bugs managed to survive the carnage and rush Hernandez, but with Kowal’s help, he dispatched them both.
Owen glanced at his screen again. The drone said the Bugs were splitting up. Some of them prepared to rush the gaps once more, but another group was coming around the north end. “I think they’re going to try to climb over.”
“Noted. Hold your ground and keep firing,” Roberts said.
Owen gritted his teeth together. He didn’t want to be under those things when they came over the wall, but he also knew his firepower was the team’s only chance. He remembered what Hereford had talked about the night before. This was just a simulation, and he didn’t want to ‘die’ even there. What had Halcomb gone through when he’d literally laid down his life for his friends?
He pressed the firing stud again, launching four more missiles. They blasted more Bugs apart. All of the Armor units were shooting now, guns blazing as they ripped into the attacking horde.
A bug tumbled off the wall above him, knocking Owen to the ground. He rolled and struggled back to his feet. The attacker rushed him, and he saw a second drop down nearby. But before they could close with him, blasts of machine gun fire tore into them.
“Didn’t think I’d let them take out our fire support, did you?” Kowal asked.
“Thanks!” Owen replied.
“Thank me by getting back to shooting them,” she said.
Owen tried to trigger his weapons, but an alarm chirped from his computer instead. The shoulder mounted launchers had both been damaged when the Bug attacked him. He disengaged them from fire control so that he could use the arm launchers. Both were down to just two missiles each.
“I’m low on ammo,” Owen said.
“Use what you’ve got!” Roberts said.
He and Hernandez were both blazing away at more Bugs as they tried to get through the breaches in the walls. Owen triggered another launch, sending two missiles rocketing into the middle of the oncoming Bugs. They exploded, stalling the rush. He fired again. Those last missiles took out most of the remaining attackers. Withering machine-gun fire did for even more of them. The final few ran off into the ruins.
Owen’s screen went black. He popped his canopy. “What happened?”
“We won, that’s what happened!” Roberts said. He was already jumping down from his simulator. “Way to go, team!”
Pahwel stood nearby, a tablet in his hands and a scowl on his face. Owen wondered if he’d wanted them to fail. Certainly, he expected them to screw it up, or rather — Pahwel expected Owen to screw it up. His anger boiled up to the surface for a moment at that thought, but he shoved it aside. The best way to deal with that was to show Pahwel that he was wrong.
“All right, that’s enough. Well done. All of you,” Pahwel said, surprising Owen by giving even him a nod. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all. “Get back in your sims. Next mission starts in five.”
Owen was tired from the intensity of the last run. He could tell the others were too. But Roberts flashed them all a winning smile and tilted his head.
“Let’s do it again, folks. Second verse, same as the first,” Roberts said. His quip lightened the mood, and the entire squad was grinning again as they clambered back into their simulators for round two.
Twelve
The rest of the day went so well that Owen didn’t even mind having to go see James during the brief period after supper where the recruits were allowed downtime to study. He was caught up on the texts they had to read, ahead of most of the pack. Roberts was doing an admirable job of leading the team, and they’d gone on to win three out of four scenarios. Even Pahwel gave them a congratulatory nod after they were through.
James waited inside his office with the door open. Owen knocked anyway, as he had each time he’d visited. The major gave him a nod, then Owen went to his usual seat and plucked up the book he’d been reading from its shelf.
The two of them had fallen into this routine over the past few visits. It was an agreeable form of therapy, although Owen was left wondering just what sort of treatment James thought he was getting from the sessions. At least the literature was interesting. He skimmed the next chapter, which was discussing ‘mindfulness.’ Some of what it said made sense, but some didn’t. Owen opened his mouth to ask James, then closed it again.
Did he want to open that door? These sessions were full of comfortable silence. If he started asking questions, James might feel able to ask some of his own in return. Owen wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. On the other hand, the major had been nothing but gracious, and this was his field. He probably wouldn’t mind answering a few questions. He might even see it as Owen becoming interested in the therapy sessions — although that was the furthest thing from his mind!
Owen decided he’d risk asking. “James, the book I’m reading is talking about mindfulness. I get that it means being observant of what your mind is thinking, but the author keeps talking about the connection between body and mind. What does he mean? This sounds like new-age gunk to me.”
James turned to face him. “It’s not. The mind is part of the body, right? That is, your brain is one organ of many. You follow me?”
Owen nodded. “Sure.”
“Well, the parts of the body are each separate but interactive. A change to one impacts most if not all of the others. Our brains are the most complex organ in the human body. What we think, even how we think, registers elsewhere. For example, when we think of certain things, our pulse might race, which in turn elevates our blood pressure,” James said.
“That makes sense, I suppose,” Owen said.
“Take you as an example. You’ve felt angry before, right?” James asked.
Owen nodded. Of course he had, and James knew that. He sensed a trap somewhere in the therapist’s words, but he hadn’t seen it yet.
“When you get mad, where in your body do you feel the anger?” James asked.
The question took Owen entirely off-guard. It sounded like a non-sequitur to him. “In my head, of course. In my brain, I guess.”
“Mmm. And where else do you feel it?” James asked.
Owen found himself frustrated by the question. “It’s a feeling. It’s in my head.”
James nodded. “Sure, emotions come from our brains. But they exist elsewhere in our bodies as well. We might feel a warm sensation in our belly when we feel loved, for example. Or a tingling at the back of our neck when we’re alarmed. These sorts of sensations are normal.”
Owen blinked. Of course, they were. There were tons of expressions about it: “butterflies in your stomach,” “flushed with anger,” and many more. But the more he drilled into his head, the less he felt at home with the idea. “It doesn’t feel like my feelings register anywhere except my head. Why would that be?”
“Probably they are, and you’re just not realizing it. That’s where mindfulness comes in, to bring the answer back full circle to your original question,” James said. “Mindfulness is about a lot of things, but one important element is knowing what body sensations mean which emotions.”
Owen shrugged. “I would
n’t even know where to start trying to do that.”
“Would you like too?” James asked.
Ah, there was the trap. James had answered his question and gotten him talking, and now he was about to go into therapist mode. For a moment Owen was tempted to refuse. But he’d had a good day, so he was in a great mood. On top of that, he really was curious to see what James was talking about.
“Sure,” Owen said. “But I reserve the right to call a stop anytime I want.”
“Deal,” James said. “All right, the obvious one to pick with you is anger. You’ve got a lot of it, bottled up. Yes, we both know that.”
Owen didn’t bother nodding or shaking his head. Sure, he had anger. He felt like it was justified. James hadn’t seen his parents killed in front of his eyes. How could he know what that sort of anger was like? “I don’t really want to talk about that.”
“No, we’re not going to talk about Miami, if that’s what you mean,” James said. “But we can look at anger from other times. Can you recall a moment recently where you’ve felt an intense flash of anger?”
“Sure. Just now, when you told me I had anger issues,” Owen said.
“I didn’t say you had anger ‘issues’,” James answered. “I said you have a lot of bottled up anger. Frankly, I think that’s justified, given your experiences.”
Owen couldn’t keep the shock from his face this time. James agreed with him that his anger was OK? That wasn’t what he expected to hear. “Um. Yeah. Me, too.”
“Right. But what if you could figure out when you’re starting to get really mad, so that you can pick and choose the right times for it?” James asked.
Owen thought back to the incident at the Academy. To when he’d lashed out at Durham. “Yeah. I can see how that could be helpful.”
“OK. Can you remember a time when you got outright furious?” James asked.
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