The Navigator (The Apollo Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by P. M. Johnson

Lieutenant Fischer smiled and placed his SPD officer’s cap on his head, adjusting the rim to be just above his eyes. He opened the office door but turned before exiting. He looked at Dr. Ferrin and said, “Keep in touch.”

  Dr. Ferrin smiled and nodded.

  Chapter 12

  Logan ran across the academy’s campus, arriving at the training facility just after Sergeant Major Mojeski called everyone to attention. Breathing heavily but trying to mask it, Logan slipped into the line next to Cap.

  “Glad you could join us, Cadet Brandt,” barked the sergeant major as he walked along the formation. “Please give me twenty pushups.”

  Mojeski put his hands on his hips as he watched Logan drop to the ground and begin doing the pushups. “Slow down cadet,” said the sergeant major. “I want you to enjoy each one.”

  Logan slowed his pace but maintained perfect form. Mojeski nodded his head with satisfaction as he watched Logan perform his assigned task. Then he started to slowly walk along the formation, looking at each face as he went by.

  “Cadets,” said Mojeski as he walked, “this will be the last of our little get-togethers. After graduation you will transition from reserve status to full-time active duty. Congratulations. It goes without saying that you will never be able to repay the considerable investment in time and resources the People’s Republic of America has made in you these past four years, but you can show your gratitude by defending her to the utmost of your ability. And if you’re lucky enough, you will be afforded the opportunity to kill the enemy. You may die in the process, but you will have done your duty. And there is satisfaction in that.”

  The sergeant major walked to the center of the room and faced the group, hands folded behind his back, feet shoulder width apart. “The time will come for all of you to demonstrate your value to your platoon, your company, your battalion, your corps. You’re all aware of the rise in atrocities these Waste clans are committing on the frontier. Towns raided, farm developments burned, defenseless citizens slaughtered. You’re all aware that the so-called League of Free Cities incites these clans into committing these crimes.”

  He raised his right hand and said in a loud voice, “But have faith! The Guardians are no doubt planning an appropriate response.” He nodded his head and looked at the young faces in front of him. “They are not going to sit back and watch a few wild clans destroy what we have achieved. You know and I know that the order will come. They will send our beloved armed forces into action to right these wrongs! To punish those responsible. To bring freedom and prosperity to the oppressed. You have spent the past four years training your minds and bodies for one thing, to defeat the enemy. When the order comes I know you will do your duty. You will not disappoint.”

  Mojeski slowly walked to his right. “We’ve got the best military this world has ever seen, pre-and post-Impact. Not only have we risen from the rubble, but we have surpassed the achievements of our ancestors. We have achieved this because we have a purpose which our predecessors, trapped in their meaningless decadence, lacked. That purpose is to unify this continent. The People’s Republic of America has great plans for this land, and each and every one of you will play your part in bringing those plans to fruition.”

  Mojeski waited for Logan to finish his last pushup and join the formation. Then he yelled, “One people! One nation!”

  “One people! One nation!” echoed the cadets.

  “That’s right. But we will not achieve this lofty goal with talk,” said the sergeant major. “We will achieve it with rifles, swords, and shields. Now fall out, collect your blade and bracer, and get into training formation.”

  Everyone quickly crossed the training room to a row of compartments, each containing a sword and a bracer. Each sword had a slightly curved blade and was about as long as a man’s arm. The bracers were about half a meter long and contained a loop at each end. The cadets slipped their non-dominant hand through the loops until the bracer covered their arms from the top of their hand to their elbow.

  “Activate your guards.”

  The cadets snapped their wrists, and long rectangular guards consisting of thin curved sheets of interlocking metal plates shot out from their bracers and enveloped their forearms like a metal sleeve. After the guards had locked into position, the sergeant major yelled, “Activate antiballistic shields!”

  They all pressed buttons located on their bracers where they covered the heels of their hands. A wave of refracted white light emerged from the bracer and swept over their bodies. Once fully activated, the shield was invisible except for an occasional shimmer of light.

  “Everyone in your standard fighting position,” said the sergeant major. “Let’s warm up. First, we will practice ripostes, transitioning from defense to counterattack . The first riposte we will practice is over your opponent’s sword arm. Ten times. Begin.”

  The cadets went through the motions of blocking an imaginary strike with their guards and counterattacking with a lunge over the imaginary attacker’s sword arm.

  “Don’t get caught flat footed. Stay on the balls of your feet and strike quickly.” He walked between the rows of cadets who repeatedly blocked and lunged. “Okay, next riposte is under the sword arm. Ten times. Go!”

  The cadets altered their counterstrike to an upward thrust. “Good, good.” He stopped in front of a young man. “Akira, you’re dropping your guard arm on your counter strike.” He walked a few paces and looked across the room. “Krieger, loosen up. Use all the available space.”

  After twenty minutes of similar drills, the sergeant major yelled, “Stop! Go get your helmets and sparring belts!”

  They stopped their blocking and counterstrike exercises and quickly retrieved helmets with transparent face protection from hooks on the wall. Once they were back in their training positions, the sergeant major yelled, “Ready stance!”

  Helmets on, they raised their guards in front of their chests. Their blades were at their sides but pointing forward, and their legs were slightly bent.

  “First and third rows, about face!”

  The first and third rows of cadets turned around to face the second and fourth rows. “Meet your sparring partners. Pick a sparring ring and turn on your counters. Remember, arms and legs are worth one point. Torso is worth three. Head is worth five. Low score wins.”

  The cadets paired with the person opposite and went to one of the rings painted on the floor. Logan found himself matched against a young black man. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend Logan Brandt,” said the man as he went into a ready stance.

  “Roberts, nice to see you,” said Logan without enthusiasm.

  Roberts took three quick swipes at Logan, who blocked them with his arm guard, then countered with a lunge to Roberts’ torso. Roberts easily deflected the attack with his blade and moved to his left. Logan lunged forward and swung low when Roberts was mid-step, striking his shin. A red light on Roberts’ belt blinked.

  Roberts shook his head and cursed as he went into his ready position for round two. Logan took two quick steps forward, hoping to surprise his opponent but Roberts spun to his right, swinging as he moved. Logan blocked the attack with his guard and continued his pursuit with a flurry of strikes. Roberts was stepping backward, using both blade and guard to block Logan’s attacks. Suddenly, Roberts stepped forward, raised his guard above his head to block Logan’s downward thrust, and drove his own blade forward into Logan’s exposed chest. Logan’s sparring belt light blinked three times.

  As they went back to their ready stance, Roberts smiled and said, “You have to cover up, my friend.”

  Logan rubbed the spot where Roberts had struck him. Even with the dull sparring blades, it had been a hard hit and would no doubt leave a bruise. He looked across the room to see Cap sparring with Lena. She scored a point with a lightning fast strike to his sword arm, causing his belt to blink. Logan grinned as he heard Cap cursing.

  Sergeant Major Mojeski was slowly walking around the room, giving advice here and
there. After a few minutes he said in a loud voice, “A glancing blow might score you a point in practice, but unless it’s hard and precise it will bounce off in a real fight. Remember, your opponent will likely be wearing battle armor, which can be pierced with a well-placed strike, but it’s very hard to do. Forget about points. Aim for where the armor is not – lower abdomen, groin, arm, shoulder and leg joints, the neck; even the back if you can turn your opponent.”

  Logan and Roberts continued their sparring. Logan evened the score with two strikes to Robert’s limbs. The first was to the sword arm as Roberts failed to deflect Logan’s attack. The second was to Roberts’ leg as he swung high at Logan’s head. With the score tied, the two young men carefully circled each other, searching for an opening.

  “You ladies having a nice dance?” asked Mojeski as he passed by their sparring circle. Seeing the numbers on their belts, he remarked, “Oh, I see. We’re all tied up and too scared to attack. That’s no good. It’s not about points. It’s about practicing what you’ve been taught.”

  He looked around the room. “There are no ties in combat!” he yelled. “We’re out of time now so if you’re not tied, put down your blades. If you’re tied, make your move!”

  Except for three groups, the cadets stopped their sparring and gathered around the remaining matches, cheering and urging the combatants to attack. Cap and Lena joined the group around Logan’s sparring circle. Logan and Roberts continued their probing feints and thrusts.

  “Let’s go, Logan!” yelled Cap. His belt had the number seven on it. Lena’s was blank. “Take him out!” he said.

  As the other two remaining fights resolved in a clear winner, more cadets joined the group around Logan and Roberts. They cheered loudly, chanting the names of the combatants. Roberts suddenly attacked with a combination of feints and slashes that put Logan on his heels, but he successfully blocked them using blade and guard. He countered with several thrusts, but Roberts defended well. They circled each other for a few moments, the crowd yelling louder and louder.

  Logan took two quick steps, swinging at Roberts’ head, but the other man had anticipated the attack and crouched low and swung upward under Logan’s guard arm. The tip of Roberts’ blade pushed into Logan’s stomach, causing Logan’s belt to blink three times. The crowd cheered and clapped their hands.

  “Well done, Roberts,” said Mojeski as the cheers subsided. A group of students was congratulating Roberts, but he broke away and shook Logan’s hand.

  “Good job,” said Logan.

  “I thought you were gonna take my head off,” said Roberts, smiling.

  Logan laughed. “That was the plan.”

  Sergeant Major Mojeski called Logan over to him. “Let me see your shield settings.”

  Logan showed him his antiballistic shield controls on his guard’s inner wrist covering.

  “You’ve got it set too high,” said Mojeski. “Higher settings give you more protection against projectiles, but if you go too high the shield becomes less flexible. It slows you down. Take it down ten percent. Bullets still won’t penetrate, and you’ll move faster.”

  Logan nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant Major Mojeski. I’ll do that.”

  “You’re cautious, Cadet Brandt,” said the sergeant major. “That’s good, but sometimes you have to be bold.”

  “Yes Sergeant Major.”

  Mojeski nodded and turned his attention to the class. “All right, all right, cut the chatter and fall in!” he yelled as he walked toward the center of the room. After the cadets had lined up he continued. “I saw a lot of good sparring, but I saw some sloppiness, too. Remember that when you attack you expose yourself, but if you don’t attack you’ll eventually be cut down. Use your guards to cover up as you attack. Blade and guard should work together. Your guard is not an afterthought when you attack; it is part of your attack.”

  He walked a few paces down the line. “Now, as I’ve told you before, we’ve broken from standard training procedures. Over the past four years we’ve combined standard sword and guard training with a variety of martial arts techniques and straight up gouge ‘em in the eye street fighting. You might catch flak from others for your unorthodox style, but I can tell you with one hundred percent confidence that you’re the best trained cadets to ever graduate from Malcom Weller Academy. What I’ve taught you could save your life someday, so remember it.”

  He looked at their faces. “All right, fall out. Turn in your equipment. Guardians’ address is in one hour. See you in the assembly hall. Congratulations on graduating and good luck at your AD station.”

  Chapter 13

  Logan and Cap left the training facility and hurried back toward their apartment. “Shit!” said Cap. “I’d forgotten about the Guardians’ address tonight.”

  “Some cadet you are,” said Logan. “This speech is the highlight of the year. Something every little girl and boy looks forward to.”

  “Sarcasm is undedicated,” said Cap.

  Thirty minutes later they were shaved, showered, and in their dress blue uniforms, which were identical except Cap’s had a yellow shoulder braid, indicating he was an air defense cadet, and Logan’s was red, indicating he was an infantry cadet.

  “You ready ground pounder?” asked Cap as he finished giving his black dress shoes a spit shine.

  “Ready bird turd,” answered Logan.

  They quickly walked across the campus to the assembly hall, where other cadets were streaming toward its doors, causing a logjam at the entrance. Logan and Cap exchanged a few greetings with classmates as the crowd slowly inched forward. They all wore the same blue dress uniform and most had red shoulder braids, but there were a few yellow air defense braids and blue navy ones.

  Several professors were also arriving. Many wore the uniform of the service they continued to serve in as reservists, often with colorful ribbon racks indicating what engagements or campaigns they’d served in. Logan spotted the academy’s dean. He was wearing a simple dark suit, but on his breast pocket he wore a large silver medal that hung at the end of a red and white ribbon.

  Cap nodded toward the dean. “Nice medal, eh? The Protector of the People has only been awarded three times.”

  Logan took a long look at the dean. In a low tone he said, “Hamza told me Dean Walsh received the award fifteen years ago during the Rededication when he was a colonel in the Republican Special Forces. He was stationed somewhere out west.”

  “That’s great. I’m happy for him. What’s your point?” asked Cap.

  “Think about it,” said Logan. “The Rededication.”

  Cap said, “Yes…the Rededication.”

  “Do you need me to spell this out for you?”

  “I guess so,” said Cap, a perplexed look on his face.

  “During a one-month span fifteen years ago, a bunch of frontier clan territories are added in a sudden push along the entire eastern border; the uprising that followed in those new territories is then put down over the next few months. Secret followers of the Nine Tyrants were blamed for inciting the people in the new territories to violence. Then, in the middle of it all, Grand Guardian Cordivan is pushed out and replaced by Guardian Harken. And what is Harken’s first move? He purges the army’s leadership of suspected supporters of the Nine and ‘rededicates’ the country to the vision of Malcom Weller, including reunifying the former United States.”

  “I’ve heard a version of this in high school civics,” said Cap. “And I should point out that according to our teachers, Cordivan stepped down for health reasons.”

  “Yeah, it was no longer healthy to be Grand Guardian,” said Logan.

  “What’s this got to do with Dean Walsh?” asked Cap.

  Logan glanced around to make sure no one was listening, and then continued. “During the purge, officers were disappearing or being executed for supposedly supporting the Nine, but not Walsh. Instead, he gets the Protector of the People medal. And a few years later he’s appointed to a cushy job as dean of the most prestigi
ous military academy in the country.”

  “So this conversation isn’t about Dean Walsh, this is about your father,” said Cap.

  Logan shrugged. “My father and others get a firing squad and Walsh gets a medal. Maybe he didn’t pull the trigger but he was rewarded for a reason.”

  Cap pulled Logan out of the crowd and said in a hushed tone, “I know you want someone to be pissed at. That’s normal. But what good will it do you? You’re lucky to have been admitted to the academy given everything that happened during the Rededication. They know who you are. They know who your father was. They could have rejected your application based on that alone, but they didn’t.”

  Logan tensed as he listened to Cap and tried to interrupt, but Cap wouldn’t let him.

  “You need to make the best of this opportunity,” said Cap. “Because what’s the alternative? Work as a minor faceless bureaucrat in some massive agency? Make toasters in a production development? Pull a plow on the frontier?”

  Logan slowly shook his head and stared at Walsh as he disappeared into the assembly hall. Then he closed his eyes and said, “You’re right. I’m lucky to be here. And I’m lucky to have you as a friend. I should look to the future, not dwell in the past.”

  Cap smiled and clapped Logan on the back. “That’s more like it.”

  The two young men made their way through the crowd then walked to their assigned positions inside the great hall. They stood shoulder to shoulder with three thousand classmates on the main floor of the assembly hall. School officials, political leaders, and honored guests sat in the surrounding seats closest to the main view screen, which currently showed the People’s Republic of America seal, an eagle clutching arrows in one talon and lightning bolts in the other. The remaining seats were filled with cadets’ family members, schoolchildren, members of various civic societies, and the general public.

  A series of chimes silenced the crowed and the academy’s sergeant at arms called out, “Attention!”