by B. V. Larson
The noobs came in, armed themselves with snap-rifles from a rack, and were told to patrol to the far side of the exercise area. The Adjunct leading the group was a thin female with big eyes and a small, mean mouth. She ordered them forward but didn’t step into the room herself.
As an experienced soldier in Legion Varus, I could have told these poor bastards to keep their eyes on their own officer for clues. Whatever she did—or didn’t do—could be critical to their odds of survival.
“Hold your fire, troops,” Harris said in my earpiece. “Let the babies march in close. We want to scare them good.”
Scare them? That was a laugh. We were going to tear them apart. For the first time, my mood shifted. I watched as the confused recruits walked forward. They looked around warily but without proper appreciation for the danger they were in. It didn’t seem right that they should be blasted without warning.
I reached up and cranked the aperture on my weapon down to a tight beam. An instant later, Carlos slapped a gauntlet on my shoulder.
“Are you going to screw me?” he asked quietly, his helmet uncomfortably close to mine.
“Take your position, trooper,” I said. “This is gonna be a real fight.”
“Shit McGill—shit!” Carlos broke off and belly-crawled away from my position.
I almost chuckled. There was one man who knew me well.
Sighting carefully with my cannon balanced on the back of a fake rock, I targeted the approaching platoon. I was supposed to start this with a wide-angle blast that would engulf the front troops in a cone of hot plasma. Ambushing them and taking out half their number in the opening volley was part of the procedure.
Instead, I aimed through them to the very back rank. There, slinking along with her pistol drawn and looking very tense, was the thin Adjunct.
She knew the score, of course. She was leading her platoon into an ambush to teach them a “lesson”.
“McGill leads,” Harris said. “Fire when ready, weaponeer.”
I couldn’t get a clear shot. The hapless recruits were all over, bunching up, not even keeping their distance from one another. I watched as they jostled one another, laughing. I had to admit these pups needed a little training. I felt sure they were going to get it before this was over.
“McGill?” Harris said a second later. “Fire, man!”
It was like threading a needle with a fire hose. I nudged my weapon right, then left. Damn, that Adjunct was a skinny little thing. It was almost as if she knew what was coming.
Finally, I got my clear shot, and I took it instantly. A gush of brilliant energy leapt across the short distance between our converging lines. It lanced between several startled recruits and caught the Adjunct full in the upper body. Her head was completely gone, and most of her narrow shoulders were burned away with it.
My dad used to talk about how chickens ran around the yard after you cut their heads off. That didn’t happen in this case. The Adjunct flopped down stone dead. But the rest of her platoon certainly did remind me of frightened fowl as they scrambled for cover screaming and shouting to one another.
All around me, my dastardly comrades sighted, but held their fire, waiting for the order. We had heavy armor, experience, and surprise on our side. But there were only six of us against thirty.
“What kind of a chicken-shit shot was that?” Harris demanded. “Take out that front line before they disperse!”
I set my plasma cannon aside and released the heating coil, letting it drop out onto the camouflaged deck, steaming. It sizzled there and sent up a tendril of gray smoke.
“Weaponeer reporting weapon failure,” I said calmly. “Repeat, weaponeer McGill reporting—”
“Damn you, McGill!” Harris roared. “You think you’re funny? The rest of you fire at will! Tear them up!”
A hail of fire erupted from both sides almost simultaneously. The recruits had gotten over their stunned status and were back in the fight. Their commander was down, but they were past their initial shock and they responded by getting low and crawling toward us.
The metallic trees around us were splattered with countless rounds. I returned fire with my secondary weapon taking out two before I was hit multiple times and forced to retreat. I don’t like to die any more than the next guy. Really, I don’t.
My heavily armored team was pushed back. We couldn’t be taken out with a single snap-rifle pellet but there were thousands rattling against the skin of our suits now. If they hammered one spot several times in a row, they could penetrate and kill even a heavy.
We retreated until our backs were against the far wall. Three heavies were down by that time including Carlos. I was breathing hard.
This wasn’t looking good. We’d taken down at least half the recruits, but the rest had blood in their eyes. They were angry, semi-organized, and pushing hard.
A massive clang sounded and I thought I’d bought the farm. But it was only Harris smashing his gauntlet onto the top of my helmet.
“I should shoot you myself!” he roared.
“We have to pull out to the north wall, Vet!” I said. “There’s a pile of rocks to hide in over there.”
Harris had a crazy look in his eye. “I’m going to do it,” he said, putting his gun to my head. “I’m going to finish you off.”
“Your odds of survival will be much better if we cover each other’s retreat to those rocks, Veteran.”
Harris roared in frustration, and he ran for the rocks. I covered his retreat by lancing a recruit who’d crawled too close with a hot poke from my suit blades. Then I fell back while Harris’s gun beamed down my pursuers.
In the end, we reached the rockpile, holed-up, and let the enemy patrol pass to victory.
For the first time in Legion Varus history, the recruits had won the ambush scenario.
-7-
It wasn’t my first dressing down, and I knew it probably wouldn’t be my last.
I’d been summoned to Centurion Graves office about an hour after the vicious firefight in the exercise room had ended in a loss for my team. I wasn’t under any illusions about what was in store for me when I reported to my commander.
Normally Harris would have given me a nasty grin when he saw me show up on a day like this, but he was too pissed-off to enjoy the situation. He glared at me, and I knew he’d as soon put a round between my eyes as spit on me.
Graves saluted us as we stepped into his office, but he didn’t tell us to stand at ease. We remained rigid and staring while he eyed us both. Finally, he heaved a sigh.
“McGill,” he said, “I’m sorry to say that Veteran Harris has requested a formal reprimand for your conduct earlier today. I’ve already heard his side of the story. Please relate yours as concisely as possible.”
“Sir,” I began, “at 0800 hours today I joined Harris’ team of heavies in the exercise room. We planned to stage a mock ambush on an unsuspecting platoon of lightly armed recruits. Unfortunately, my weapon didn’t operate as I’d—”
“Bullshit, McGill!” Harris interrupted with sudden vehemence. “Don’t you even dare go there. We’re not a pair of desk-flying noobs, you know. We’ve seen your act plenty of times before, and—”
“Harris, please,” Graves interrupted.
“Okay,” Harris said. “Okay. I only wanted to point out the obvious—that McGill is full of Grade-A shit, sir.” After that, Harris clamped his mouth shut. I could tell it wasn’t an easy thing for him to do.
“McGill,” Graves said, “I have to agree with Harris’ assessment in this instance. I’m not buying any nonsense about the status of your weapon. It operated perfectly before and after the exercise—just not while it was in your hands.”
“Well sir, in that case I’d like point out the general rule followed by heavy weaponeers in combat. The commanders give the orders, but we’re in charge of executing the technical details to the best of our ability and at our discretion. My actions were due to a personal judgment call. While I can understand how someone
could see my decisions as…flawed, I believe the end results were positive.”
“You didn’t follow orders!” Harris exploded. “You know damn well—”
Graves waved him to silence again. “McGill, half the heavy troopers lying in ambush were killed by the enemy patrol during the exercise. More importantly, the recruits made it to the far wall achieving their goal and a clear victory in the game. How can these results be looked upon as ‘positive?’”
“It’s true, sir, that my side failed to stop the enemy in the exercise. But that’s only one way of looking at it. The real purpose of the mission was to train troops, and to shape them into battle-hardened fighters before their first real battle. I believe my approach managed to do just that.”
Graves frowned slightly. “Could you elaborate?”
“The enemy light troop officer in this mock firefight played her role poorly. She knew what was going to happen. She didn’t spread out her men or give them any orders that would improve their odds. Instead, she hung back and offered them no guidance. If she’d led her team to the best of her ability, we might have lost the exercise fair and square.”
Harris lost his cool once again. “That’s the whole damned point! The recruits are supposed to lose. They’re supposed to be slaughtered. It’s a good hard lesson for them and puts the fear of live rounds into them before they wander out onto an alien battlefield. Are you trying to outthink Legion Varus’ training techniques? Is that it? Do you know better than your officers? I—”
“Hold on, Harris,” Graves said. “McGill, explain yourself.”
“I don’t think the exercise is well-designed. If the purpose is to train both sides, then my alteration of the script achieved that goal. In fact, I think both sides gained from the action today. The surviving recruits got a morale boost out of it. I even provided their commanding officer with a little education. Next time she might take the exercise seriously rather than hanging back and letting her troops march into a slaughter. Maybe she’ll try to win and stay alive in the process.”
Harris sputtered and scoffed, but no intelligible words came out of him. Graves looked at me, frowning and thinking hard. Finally, he spoke again. “McGill, Veteran Harris was your commander in this exercise. You owed it to him to follow his orders. Regardless of your complaints about the opposing officer, Veteran Harris had the superior strategy. You ignored his orders and your side did poorly as a result. Since this combat wasn’t with an actual enemy, your mistake doesn’t warrant a demotion or other punishment. I’ll keep it out of your permanent record, but it will cost you big-time all the same.”
“Yes sir,” I said. “Uh, cost me what?”
“McGill, I regret to inform you that I’m removing you from the promotion roster. Up until today, you were on my short-list for the rank of veteran.”
“Say what?” demanded Harris, flabbergasted.
Graves stared at him coldly until he quieted.
“That’s right,” Graves continued, “I’m going to have to rescind my recommendation. This prank has cost you rank—do you understand me, Specialist?”
I felt a wave of shock. Veteran? Me? Such rapid advancement was highly unusual. In most cases, even a stellar trooper had to work his way through his first enlistment and be accepted for his second active duty stint before he had a chance of achieving advanced rank. Learning that I’d been considered for rank and lost my chance came as a stunner to me.
Graves was still eyeing me, and I realized he expected a response.
“Yes sir,” I said. “Right. I understand, sir.”
“Good.”
My face was a flat mask. Internally, I didn’t know what to think. Should I argue? Had I been a fool to go off-script in the first place? Did I even want to be a veteran? I wasn’t sure how to answer any of these questions which were popping off in my head.
“Centurion?” Veteran Harris said, leaning forward, “I’d like to request a private word with you after this. Would that be possible?”
“Request denied,” Graves responded immediately. “I already know what you’re going to say, Harris.”
“Sir, I just can’t understand how you could—”
“Veteran,” Graves said, cutting him off, “you’ve made your point. Your report has been taken into account and considered carefully. Specialist McGill has been reprimanded and materially punished. I think you should take that at face value and leave it alone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re both dismissed.”
Harris and I walked out of the Centurion’s officer together. I was in a daze, and I think Harris was, too.
Harris turned to me with a savage look on his face.
“I want you to understand something, McGill,” he said. “I don’t care what happens. I don’t care what dumbass idea the brass comes up with in the way of promotions. I’m never going to salute you.”
I wasn’t sure how to take this, but I was beginning to get a little angry with him myself. It’s hard to stay cool with someone who’s raging at you all the time.
“Veteran Harris,” I said. “Do you remember the day we met? I came to the Mustering Hall and you personally talked me into signing with Legion Varus.”
“How could I forget? An hour never passes where I don’t regret that day.”
“Well, do you recall telling me that I wasn’t fit for the other legions because I was a misfit? A square peg that didn’t fit into their little round holes? You told me Legion Varus values troops that think for themselves. You said this outfit seeks misfits and upstarts, and that my kind is welcome here.”
“That was a sales pitch,” Harris snapped.
“Well, I think there was a grain of truth in your pitch because that’s what I am. It’s in my nature to think outside the box and to cause trouble for those who don’t. Maybe that’s why I’ve moved up in rank quickly, and why I may well continue to do so.”
Harris grunted unhappily. “God help us all.”
We went our separate ways at the next intersection, and I found my way back to my quarters. Carlos was there to greet me—lucky me.
“Here he is!” he shouted, throwing his arms wide. “My favorite backstabbing traitor! What was it this time, McGill? Did you spot a piece of rookie ass you couldn’t bear to gun down? Or were you dying to hear the centurion’s big-dog bark again? I know it’s been a month or more since you’ve been reprimanded. Things must have been getting dull in that swamp-shack of yours down in Georgia.”
“Not really,” I said, grinning. “I killed three men in that shack the day I left Earth.”
“I heard about that. Same old crazy. I hope you save a little of that for the shop-lifters on Tech World.”
“Is that all there is going on down there?” I asked him seriously. “Shoplifting, smuggling, maybe a little tax-evasion? Is that what they want us to guard against?”
Carlos shook his head. “Really, it’s worse than that. From what I can tell reading a few old online tour summaries from Germanica commanders, almost nothing ever happens on Tau Ceti. We’re for show, and that’s why those Germanica pukes have always loved the assignment.”
“I’m pretty stunned to hear you read up on our mission world.”
He shrugged. “Reports of my retardation have always been exaggerated—unlike those with your name on the top.”
It was classic Carlos, but somehow I didn’t feel like punching him this time. I was too distracted by the results of my meeting with Graves.
“You want to hear a shocker?” I asked him.
“You know I do. You’re gay, right? I always suspected it. I’m going to win the Unit pool this time.”
I couldn’t really see Carlos. I certainly wasn’t listening to him. I walked to the far wall of our small quarters and tapped on it. Obediently, the wall displayed Tech World. Our destination was a blue-gray planet that sparkled like a Christmas tree on the night side. An endless city they said, with a native population that was pushing a trillion humanoids. From space it look
ed interesting, but I could already taste the canned air.
“You know that picture’s fake, right?” Carlos asked.
I didn’t say anything, and he stared alongside me at our destination.
“Graves said I was on his short list for promotion to veteran,” I told him. “But he canceled that because of the exercise.”
“Ouch,” Carlos said. “That sucks for you. But you know, now that I think about it, I’m not the least bit sorry for you. In fact, the idea he’d been about to promote you again before he gave me a Specialist rank—man, that’s bullshit. You piss off half the legion every day, and I’m on his permanent shit-list. What I’d ever do?”
I glanced at him. “For one thing, you never shut up.”
“Well, yeah. But that’s not as bad as disobeying orders all the time.”
“I don’t disobey orders—not often, anyway. I just tend to interpret them in my own special way.”
Carlos rewarded me with a dirty chuckle. “Officers love that.” After a second, he frowned. “Do you really think my mouth is holding me back?”
I nodded. “I’m sure of it. Free-thinking actions annoy them, but they partly admire initiative. What they really hate is a loud smart-ass.”
Carlos grunted. “I’ve got to work on that.”
Turning my attention from the glimmering projection of the world we were heading toward, I eyed him in surprise. I couldn’t recall Carlos ever accepting criticism much less suggesting he needed to mend his ways.
I guess there’s hope for everyone.
-8-
A month passed before the big day came. Minotaur came out of warp, paused for a moment to get her bearings, and then glided like a stalking predator toward Tech World. Crawling across the star system in normal space, it took a full day to get from the designated warp-in point to the target planet.
During the final hour of the approach, every trooper was on deck and wearing their full kit. A massive power pack humped my back like a bloated camel. On my shoulder rode my belcher, a venerable piece of legion armament. It was a powerful infantry weapon and the heaviest a single earthman could carry. But I had to wonder if a better heavy gun could be found somewhere else in the Empire.