Son of Justice

by Steven L. Hawk

  “Samna’s suit has been compromised. I’m sending new coordinates to each of you. We’re changing direction and will be moving out to the south right away.”

  “Jayson, this is Turner. What about the mission?”

  “We’ve got a new mission now, Turner. We’re heading south toward the equator.”

  “But that’s over ten kilometers away.”

  “Noted,” Eli stated, struggling to keep his voice calm. “We’re going to be picking up the pace, everyone. We can’t continue weaving through these paths. It’s time we went up and over these rock formations.”

  “Now we’re talking,” Aquino quipped. “Let’s see what these suits can really do!”

  “I’m pleased you’re excited, Aquino,” Eli replied. “I want you in the lead. We need to be quick, but safe. Think you can do that?”

  “You know it, Jayson.”

  “Samna, you’re behind Aquino. I’ll be behind you. Then Ming, Wagner, and Turner.” Eli didn’t like the idea of putting someone else at the front of their line, but he needed to keep an eye on Samna. If she faltered or stumbled, he wanted to know it right way. She would probably be fine, but he had to make sure, and the best place to do that was from directly behind her. “Questions or comments, anyone?”

  Again, no one had anything. “Okay then, let’s move.”

  Aquino took a running start, then leaped to the top of a rock formation to their south. Eli watched Samna complete her own jump, then followed suit. He kept an eye on the three bringing up the rear to make sure they followed, then turned his attention to the recruit to his front. Samna seemed fine, for now. He checked her suit for the current temp and noted that it still remained a few degrees above freezing. Her shivering indicated she was already experiencing mild hypothermia and the sensors from her suit showed her core temp to be slightly lower than it should be. The movement from the faster pace should help her body retain its heat, but he knew she was in danger. Where caution had been required before, they now needed speed and movement. The potential danger to Samna’s health justified the increased risk of a bad jump.

  They covered the first kilometer slowly, with Aquino jumping onto each successive rock formation, then down into the arroyolike pathway on the far side, then up onto the next formation, then back down again. It wasn’t until Aquino tried jumping across a particularly narrow arroyo to the next elevated plateau that they picked up the pace. Before long, they were completing jumps across all but the longest rifts and that’s when they really began making good time.

  An hour later, they reached a point near the equator where they turned off their night optics and began navigating in the twilightlike light of the sun. Five minutes later, they reached the point where the sun was just peeking above the horizon, and Eli called a halt. The external temperature was now reading a relatively balmy sixty-six degrees Fahrenheit, eighteen degrees Celsius.

  “How you doing, Samna?” He read her internal body temperature and saw it had lost another degree in their journey, but was still above the danger point of severe hypothermia. They had dodged a bullet.

  “Still c-c-cold. But it feels warmer already.”

  “You should get out of your suit. You’ll get warmer quicker without the contact against your body.” She didn’t disagree and began the process of dismounting the armor. Soon, she stood before them in the uni-body fighting suit they all wore underneath. “Now, let’s take a look and see if we can find the problem.”

  A quick search turned up a perfectly round hole, roughly the same diameter of a pea—or a drill, Eli thought—in the right underarm area of her suit. It looked too perfect to have been the result of an accident, and Eli’s first thought involved big, green aliens with overlarge ears. He fumed silently. It was one thing to sabotage his performance, another to put his fellow recruit’s life at risk.

  “Will you be okay on your own, Samna?” He got a nod in return. “Good. Get warmer, then re-suit. I’ll alert the unit to pick you up here as soon as they can. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “You going back to complete the mission?”

  “Oh yeah,” he acknowledged. The longer he thought about this situation, the more difficult it became to keep the anger from his voice. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his thoughts.

  Control what you can control. Focus on the mission.

  “I’m leading from here on,” he informed the rest of the team, then turned to the north. Fortunately, Aquino had showed them a better way to navigate the frozen terrain. Now they just had to make up for lost time. “I’m gonna be moving fast, so keep up.”

  * * *

  They made good time over the now-familiar terrain. The over-the-top method that Aquino had discovered on their trek to the south was a much better method for traveling than the safe, but slow winding through the valleys below. Despite the improvement in speed, the detour they had been forced to take had put them behind schedule, and he wondered for just a moment how Crimsa was doing on the other side of the Telgoran habitable zone. The brief thought urged him into a faster pace, and he scanned his visor for the positions of his team. A quick glance told him they were keeping up just fine, so he kept pushing ahead at the new pace.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours, Eli spotted a marker flag in the distance. He verified that the marker matched their course and destination and made his way toward it. Upon arriving, he noted the large black box at the base of the flag.

  Eli wasted no time. He had the box emptied by the time Turner, bringing up the rear, arrived at the checkpoint.

  Six defense force weapons were now carefully arranged around the marker flag: a Ninny sniper rifle, two standard issue plasma pulse rifles, two Ginny shotgunlike weapons, and a single, large Boomer antitank weapon.

  A message announced its arrival with a ping and a flashing, red icon on Eli’s visor. He keyed it open and read it quickly:

  Mission: One shot, one kill

  Objective: Eliminate each target using one of the weapons provided.

  Rules of engagement: Each weapon has one round, so can only be fired once. Each team member will be assigned a weapon by the Team Leader and is responsible for destroying their designated target. Team members cannot be assigned multiple weapons/targets.

  Scoring Parameters: Points will be awarded for successfully destroying an assigned target, using the following schema:

  Target 1: 25-centimeter circle. Ninny Sniper Rifle. Distance 300 meters. 10 points.

  Target 2: Tank silhouette. Boomer Antitank Weapon. Distance 300 meters. 5 points.

  Target 3: Human silhouette. Pulse Rifle. Distance 100 meters. 3 points.

  Target 4: Human silhouette. Pulse Rifle. Distance 100 meters. 3 points.

  Target 5: Human silhouette. Ginny Shotgun. Distance 15 meters. 3 points.

  Target 6: Human silhouette. Ginny Shotgun. Distance 15 meters. 3 points.

  Success Criteria: Successfully hitting a target, with the assigned weapon receives the points described. Failure to hit a target, or hitting a target with the incorrect weapon receives zero points.

  Time Constraints: None

  “Orders received. Forwarding now,” he announced, then keyed a command that sent the message to the rest of the team.

  While they read the message, he pulled up the performance reports for each of his charges that had been downloaded into his system files at the start of this exercise. He scanned them quickly, focusing on the weapons scores each had received over the course of their training. It didn’t take long to see the problem. Samna was the only one of the team who had scored better than “average” during Ninny training. She was ranked “expert” with the weapon, which Eli respected. The long-range, cartridge-fire rifle—what his dad called a “sniper” rifle—was difficult to master and required a high degree of patience and precision. Although skilled with most weapons, Eli hadn’t fared well on the Ninny course four weeks earlier. As someone who was used to mastering any type of weapon, his inability to account for all of the environme
ntal factors that went into being a good long range marksman had frustrated him.

  He reread the mission objective again, wishing he had his father’s wisdom and experience to help him decide how to proceed. But he had neither. Nor did he have the time. In addition to being awarded points for hitting targets, the overall exercise was timed. A more rapid completion resulted in a higher score, and they had already lost too much time.

  He made his decision.

  “Okay, listen up,” Eli began. “You’ve all read the mission brief. Any questions?”

  “There are only five of us,” Turner replied. “Who’s going to take out the sixth target?”

  “No one,” Eli answered. “We take out five and leave one on the table.”

  The team shared looks, and Eli continued, not waiting for further questions.

  “Aquino, you’ll take the Boomer. Ming and Wagner, you two take the pulser rifles. Turner, you take a Ginny.” Eli looked to each person as he issued assignments and received understanding nods in response.

  “I’ll take the Ninny.”

  It was a gamble taking on the sniper target, but one he felt was worth taking because of the time the team had already lost. The seven additional points that the Ninny target offered might be the difference between him and his competitors, and he refused to leave the most important target uncontested.

  “Grab your weapons and assume your positions. Aquino, we’ll wait for you to take out the tank with the Boomer, then we’ll fire on our targets.”

  The members of the mission team moved to the crate and picked up their assigned weapons, then moved into their designated positions. The Minith in charge of preparing the mission had clearly identified each target’s firing lane so there was no confusion on where each of them needed to be. Eli picked up the Ninny and inspected it closely. The others followed his lead with their own weapons. Once he was satisfied, he nodded to the team and motioned for them to take their positions. He watched as each person settled into his or her firing lane and prepared their weapons. He then moved to his own lane.

  A brief look downrange offered no sign of the plate-size target he would need to hit. He anticipated that would change once he activated the rifle—with its integrated magnification scope—into his armor’s weapon control system. He passed his thumb over the sensor embedded into the rifle’s stock to initiate the activation process. Two seconds later, he received the green flash and accompanying beep that indicated the pairing was successful. He lifted the weapon into position against his shoulder and said, “Ninny sight.”

  As expected, the right side of his face plate immediately lit up with the view as seen through the rifle’s integrated scope. The left half remained in normal, nighttime mode. Using the left view as a guide, he pointed the weapon downrange in the anticipated direction of the target he had selected for himself—a 25 centimeter-size circle. He found it within seconds, a dinner plate-size oval that had a large “1” painted on its face. He keyed the trigger in nonfire mode to pin the target into his system’s memory.

  Satisfied with locating the downrange target, he turned his attention to the area in front of his lane and noted the lack of a shooting table or any other type of support. Without the PEACE armor, a prone position with elevated support would have given him the best firing stance. However, because of the suit’s ability to lock in place on command, an unsupported, standing position provided just as much stability as lying prone with support. He added another mental check mark to the suit’s “benefits” column.

  Once he felt ready to address his target, Eli asked for a status from the other members of the team. All replied back that they were also ready.

  “Okay, Aquino. Whenever you’re ready, release the Boomer. Everyone else, once the Boomer goes off, engage your targets whenever you’re ready.”

  Eli began the process of dialing in the Ninny onto his target. From this distance, the circle seemed tiny, even with the help of the weapon’s scope and the armor’s assistance. He made adjustments to the sighting picture using verbal commands that took distance, wind, and atmospheric pressure into consideration, and watched as the right side of his screen centered onto the target. Once he felt he had the weapon locked in as best as he could, he ordered the suit to freeze in position. He then waited for the explosion that would signal Aquino had fired on the tanklike silhouette. The Boomer was a shoulder-fired rocket designed to destroy armored vehicles and entrenched placements. The other soldier had shown proficiency with the weapon during training, and Eli had no concerns that the man would hit his target. The same went for the others on the team. He had no doubt they would all be successful. His ability with the Ninny was the only doubt he had. Once again, he wished that Samna was still with them.

  Although it was expected, the explosion of the Boomer rocket’s impact surprised Eli. He had forgotten just how loud the weapon’s munition could be. He silently thanked himself for having the foresight to freeze his armor’s position beforehand. Hopefully, the others had done so as well. If not, they would likely have to revisit their targeting process.

  Eli quickly put those thoughts out of his mind and focused his attention downrange.

  Control what you can control.

  He double-checked his target, made a slight adjustment to the sight picture. Although it didn’t affect his shot because of the armor he wore, he automatically reverted to his non-armor routine.

  He took a deep breath, released half of the air from his lungs, then gently squeezed the trigger.

  As with any good shot, he was surprised by the impact of the weapon’s firing.

  As with any missed shot, he was also surprised when the target downrange remained untouched.

  * * *

  Eli stopped on his way to the latrine and looked over the shoulders of the small group of recruits who were pointing at the latest Sift results. When they noticed him pause in the hallway, they silently moved aside to allow him a clear view. He felt their eyes scanning him as he took his turn at the list.

  As was his routine, he placed his left hand over the list of names without looking. Then, starting at the bottom, he slowly moved his hand upward, uncovering each name in turn. He slowly and carefully read each name and noted their score before moving up to the next name on the list. The first names he read weren’t a surprise. Private Tomas, the second choice from First Platoon had started the trials at the bottom of the pack, and hadn’t moved up since. As Eli had come to expect, the man remained in eighth place after the final test. Next, in seventh, was Sims from Third Platoon. Next were his own platoon-mates, Ellison in sixth and Benson in fifth. Benson’s performance throughout the trials had exceeded the man’s own expectations, though not those of Eli who knew what the other man was capable of doing. Unfortunately, though, while Benson was fully competent in all of the tasks they were given, he was a true master at none. As a result, he was relegated to the middle of the pack.

  Eli’s first surprise came when he moved his hand upward to reveal the fourth spot. Instead of seeing Crimsa’s name, he noted that Johnson, the top candidate from First Platoon had lost a spot in the rankings. Even more surprising was the name that now sat in the third slot: Adrienne Tenney.

  Eli jerked his hand away, unable to wait a moment longer.

  There, in black and white, sat the final two names: Eli Jayson and Renaldo Crimsa.

  Side-by-side, in a tie for first place.

  Chapter 14

  Twigg trod the familiar path around his office as his mind gnawed over the problem at hand.

  The Sift had been compromised, likely on multiple occasions, and he growled at the discovery. In the past, taking steps to prevent the most qualified humans from doing well, would have fallen to him. Now Brek or Krrp, probably both, were interfering with the trials and molding the results. He knew he shouldn’t blame them. Their instructions came from the same source as his always did—Colonel Drah. But blame them he did. They were looking toward their next promotion, and had no issue crawling over his bac
k in the process. That angered Twigg, made him want to lash out with claw and boot at his fellow sergeants. And at Drah.

  His recent loss of preferred status soured his entire being. It affected his work, kept him awake at night, and impaired his ability to enjoy what little life he had outside of this pitiful job. Drah expected nothing less than absolute loyalty, and Twigg’s inability to speak poorly of the human, Jayson, had summoned his downfall in the colonel’s eyes. But what is a Minith to do? The man had defeated him on the field of battle. If not for a lucky break, he would have also defeated him in the ring. The human had earned both his respect and his loyalty. Which is more than Twigg could ever say for Drah. There was no respect for his superior officer, and what loyalty he had felt was due to the rank that the other held, nothing more.

  The Minith sergeant paused his shambling gait as he passed behind his desk. He turned, placed his leathery, green hands flat on the desk’s top and counted to ten. He had once overheard humans discussing the counting trick as a way to banish anger from their thoughts. Upon reaching “ten” he felt no better, so he repeated the process. Again, no better.

  Twigg raised his hands, curled them into fists and slammed them with all his strength onto the surface. The metal relented, leaving two shallow indentations. The combination of physical action, shooting pain, and damaged property left him in a much better place.

  Count to ten? Ridiculous. Lash out and hit something if you want to feel better!

  He looked down at the two depressions his fists created and came to a decision.

  When this cycle was over, he would put in for a transfer. He wouldn’t work for Drah another day, and he no longer had any desire to keep their human allies from succeeding.

  Satisfied with his decision, he squared his shoulders and marched out of his office. He was still the senior sergeant over this training cycle. As such, he was determined to make things as right as possible while he still possessed authority and could influence the outcome of the Sift.