by G. P. Hudson
“Well done,” said Henderson. “I’m sure you’re all eager to see what these things can do.” With that Henderson jumped through the air and landed in front of their line. “I’m going to start with a light jog and you’re going to follow me and match my pace. As I increase speed, you increase speed. Understood?”
“Yes,” they replied.
Henderson broke into a jog. The line followed and when it was Breeah’s turn she tried to match the pace. Her first step was too ambitious and she bumped into her father’s back. It was just a tap, but enough to reminded her to be careful. The next step was more controlled and she quickly adjusted to the proper speed. She hadn’t been the only one. The line briefly resembled a column of dominoes as many Reivers negotiated the correct amount of force. But a lifetime of training meant the Reivers were quick to adapt. Once the first few bumps were out of the way, they were all moving in unison like they’d been in combat suits for years. As Henderson picked up the pace, they matched him.
“Excellent,” said Henderson. “Now comes the real test.” With that he shot forward at incredible speed. There was no build up to it, he simply exploded with blazing strides that covered several meters.
The Reivers attempted to match his speed but had difficulty adjusting. This time her father stumbled in front of her. She quickly managed to change direction and avoid him. What had once been a clean line, now looked jagged and disorderly. But, as before, they adapted and found their stride. For the next hour they learned the basics of movement in a combat suit. They learned the suit’s limits. How fast they could run. How high they could jump. How far they could leap. They learned how hard they could punch and kick, and how to control that power so as not to leave themselves overextended and vulnerable.
“Let’s put it all together and try some hand to hand combat,” said Henderson. He turned and faced Chief St. Clair. “The combat suit bestows you with incredible speed and power. It can also protect you from injury.” With that Henderson lunged at St. Clair with a vicious looking strike. St. Clair sidestepped the strike, seized the arm and threw Henderson across the room. Henderson landed hard on his back, but jumped up like nothing happened.
“As you can see, the suit can take a good deal of punishment. It absorbs the impact, protecting you on the inside. But that doesn’t mean you’re invincible. You can still be hurt, even killed, but you have a lot of armor in the way. You are all trained fighters, so you just need to learn to use your skills with the suit. Can I have a volunteer?”
Breeah shot her hand up, as did the rest of the line.
“Kenid. Breeah. Step up here,” said Henderson.
Breeah jumped forward, glancing at Jon who smiled at her. Kenid was older than her, so she didn’t know him well, but she remembered him being nice enough. Although that didn’t mean much. Fear of her father ensured everyone was nice to her.
“You two are going to have a little fight,” said Henderson. “The best way to learn how to use the suit in combat is to actually use it in combat. Try not to kill each other.”
Breeah and Kenid faced each other. The others stepped back to give them room. Breeah stared at her opponent, adrenalin coursing through her veins. She fell back into a fighting stance and waited for the match to start. Kenid did the same. She tried to remember Kenid’s ability in the matches, but drew a blank.
“Begin!” said Henderson.
Kenid exploded forward with a flurry of strikes, forcing her to fall back and defend. The strikes were ridiculously fast and powerful. She shifted and sidestepped out of the way of the first few, then her hands took over. Each arm moved with a mind of its own. A lifetime of conditioning enabled her to react correctly. The suit did the rest. She still found herself surprised by the speed of her response. She loved it. The speed. The power. It intoxicated her. Was this how Jon felt?
She parried and got off punches of her own, but Kenid easily deflected them. Then came his mistake. He threw an unnecessarily high kick. For her father, this was a cardinal sin. High kicks in combat were the epitome of foolishness. Never kick above the waist. This had been drilled into her since childhood. Perhaps Kenid thought the suit’s speed would allow him to get away with it. Did he forget that her suit was just as fast?
His leg came up, she dropped and kicked out his supporting leg. He landed on his back. She was on him before he could get to his feet. She shot out a second foot as he rose, connecting hard with his chest. He went down again. When he tried to rise she surged forward and smashed a knee into his helmet. Kenid’s head snapped back and he was forced to the floor. She drove a foot down, aiming square at his helmet, but Kenid rolled out of the way. She chased him. Stomping. He kept rolling.
He tried to get up and a hard kick connected to his ribs sending him into the air. His stomach hit the ground first and he moved to get his knees up under him. The distance surprised her, but she didn’t hesitate. In an easy leap she covered the distance and landed on top of him, driving a knee into his back. He collapsed under the weight of the strike. She sat on his back, pinning him, and raised her fist to strike.
“Stop,” yelled Henderson. Breeah got off Kenid and rose to her feet. Back on his feet, Kenid, bowed to her in Reiver fashion, acknowledging her victory over him. This was a sign of respect, but also one showing there were no hard feelings. She lowered her head in return, accepting the gesture.
“Thank you Breeah and Kenid for that fine display of skill,” said Henderson. “As you can see, these suits can take a lot of punishment. This is why weapons are almost always needed when fighting with combat suits. Now, everyone spread out and find a partner. We’ll do some sparring and then we can move on to weapons.”
She thoroughly enjoyed the match. Her father had taught her well, and she always had taken pride in her prowess. Many men were larger than her, but that never intimidated her. ‘Size is the weak man’s hiding place,’ her father always said. He was right. Men who felt they had the advantage of size and power often looked for the knock-out, or killing blow. If you denied them that blow they often became enraged. Almost helpless. Skill and cunning could easily defeat them. The combat suit took that skill and amplified it. It exhilarated her.
They sparred for some time. She went through multiple opponents, each one helping her to adapt in new ways to the combat suit. At one point Sergeant Henderson turned off the gravity, and they fought in zero g conditions. She imagined that would be disorienting for most Space Force recruits. But every Reiver had been raised on an asteroid colony. They learned how to adapt to zero g conditions since they were children. In fact, disabling the gravity on board a freighter was a widely used tactic on Reiver raids.
After spending ample time sparring without gravity, Sergeant Henderson turned it back on, and they all dropped to the floor. “Outstanding,” he said. “You all look very comfortable in your suits, so let’s move on to weapons.”
A Marine appeared and pushed a combat suit out onto the training floor. Her HUD named the suit Training 1. Sergeant Henderson brandished a massive blade that looked more sword than knife. It came to life and pulsed with energy. What looked like tiny lightning bolts crackled along its length. “This is an ion blade,” he said, holding the sizzling weapon up for all to see. “It will be your primary weapon in close quarters hand to hand combat.” Henderson pivoted toward the suit and thrust the tip of the blade into the suit’s shoulder. It didn’t pierce the suit, but her HUD identified the injury to the shoulder and displayed statistics regarding Training 1’s integrity. He thrust again, and the shoulder’s integrity dropped some more. The third strike pierced the armor. “An ion blade can do what your hands and feet cannot. Your HUDs should be displaying a report on the damage caused to the combat suit. In battle, you will receive real time information about your own suit’s integrity. You will also receive real time data about the health of the other suit’s in your unit. In addition, the suits will display information relating to any physical injuries you may have sustained. It will act to treat those injuries and
administer pain killers.”
Impressive, she thought. The suit is part warrior and part medic.
Sergeant Henderson then strode over to a nearby rack where several extremely large weapons sat. He took one, shouldered it, turned and opened fire on the suit. Damage to the suit immediately flashed on her HUD as the first few rounds diminished its integrity. Once the armor had been compromised, the remaining rounds shredded it. Henderson ceased firing.
“Your suit’s enhanced strength will allow you to carry your own personal cannon. That might be a rail gun, like this, or an energy weapon. Any questions?”
Nobody spoke.
“Good. Everyone follow me to the firing range where you can get a chance to shoot.”
Breeah gleefully fell into step behind her father, who was probably having as much fun as her. Jon stood by the doors, still smiling, and flashed her a thumbs up as she passed. Jon may have objected to her fighting, but if anybody knew how much fun this was for her it had to be him.
They filed into the adjoining shooting range. Another vast space. On one wall were long racks of weapons. Beyond them were the firing points, each one enclosed and isolated from the other. She glanced out at the range. It was surprisingly long. She often forgot how large this ship actually was. At the far end she spied the targets.
Henderson walked up to the weapon rack and said, “We’re going to start with the rail guns.” He picked one up off the rack with one hand and a large magazine with the other. “You will approach the rack, one by one, take your weapon and your ammo, and load your weapon like this.” Henderson slapped the magazine into the rail gun and the weapon came to life. “The grip of your rail gun will recognize your combat suit and communicate with it. Your HUD will display your ammo levels, allowing you to time your reload. In the rare case of a malfunction, your HUD will inform you of the problem, so you can fix it.” He paused, as if waiting for questions. There were none so he continued. “Once your weapon is loaded you will each step up to a firing point and await further instructions. Understood?”
“Yes,” came the now practiced response.
“Begin,” said Henderson.
When it was her turn Breeah stepped up to the rack and effortlessly picked up a rail gun and magazine. She marveled at the size of the weapon and how light it felt in her hands. She thought she had gotten used to the suit’s strength, but was still clearly in awe. The weapon had an open slot for the magazine and she smacked it into place. A new number instantly appeared on her HUD, displaying five hundred rounds available. She wondered how many magazines she would have, and stepped up to the firing point next to her father. She looked down the firing alley at the target in the distance. Out of curiosity she raised and pointed her weapon. Crosshairs appeared on her HUD and she adjusted the gun’s position until it locked onto the target.
“When you raise your weapon your suit’s targeting system will activate. The crosshairs will allow you to adjust your aim for more precise firing. The rail gun will fire in the direction you aim, but with some weapons you may have access to intelligent ordnance. In those instances, when you lock onto a target and fire the ordnance will follow the target, even if it moves. Now I want all of you to raise your weapons and aim at your targets.” Henderson paused briefly. “Fire.”
The room erupted with weapon fire, but the deafening sound she expected was muffled. The suit obviously had built in ear protection. Breeah squeezed off a few rounds and her HUD registered direct hits on the target. She fired off a few more and scored perfect hits again. This was too easy.
“Cease fire,” said Henderson.
The range fell quiet.
“That was your warm up,” said Henderson. “Now that you know how everything works let’s give you some real shooting practice.”
The target disappeared and an orb appeared where the target had stood, hovering.
“You now have a new target. This target will move. You will adjust your aim accordingly and continue firing.”
Breeah lined up the orb with her crosshairs.
“Fire.”
She pulled the trigger and hit the orb. It shrunk in size and began to dance in the air. Breeah followed. She locked on and fired again. Another hit. It got smaller and moved faster. She pursued, matching its speed. She fired again, but missed. She adjusted her aim, compensating for its movement and fired another round. Success. It shrunk some more, and continued to speed up. The thing moved too fast now, making it almost impossible to get a lock. She had to anticipate its movements in order to get a hit.
She fired and missed. After several unsuccessful attempts she changed tactics. Rather than shooting single rounds, she sprayed multiple bullets in the direction she thought the orb would go. Her HUD registered hits again, but the orb kept getting smaller and faster until it became impossible to hit. Soon many of the Reivers had the same problem.
“When your target has become too small and you can no longer keep up, say the words, ‘reset target’ and it will return to its original size,” said Henderson.
“Reset target,” Breeah repeated and the orb returned to its full size.
They continued training with the rail guns for a good hour, then switched to energy weapons. Other than the huge size of the weapons, Breeah was familiar with both. The practice was more about getting used to the suit and how it interacted with the weapons, than actually learning how to shoot. Later in the day they used intelligent ordnance. These were not standard issue, but they still needed to experience how they worked. These presented a different challenge. With the rail guns and the energy weapons, when the orb became too fast she had to anticipate its direction. With intelligent ordnance, however, she actually had to try and get a lock on the target, which was a lot harder than it seemed. Surprisingly, with little practice she found that the frequency of her locks more consistent.
When Sergeant Henderson sent them back to remove their suits she felt a pang of disappointment. They returned to line up in front of the platforms that held their suits that morning.
“Step up to your platform and place your boots in the outlines displayed,” said Henderson.
Breeah put her feet where the platform indicated and the suit began to release her. First her helmet retracted, exposing her head. The suit continued to free her arms, torso, and finally her legs. She stepped off the platform, as did her father.
“You did well, child,” said Jonas.
“Thank you, father. It was fun.”
A youthful smile spread across his face. His eyes sparkled. “I believe the fun is just beginning.”
Chapter 35
“I wouldn’t mind one of those Diakan suits,” said Michael, gesturing toward an armor clad Diakan striding by, his heavy boots sinking deep into the mud as he passed.
“You think the Diakans are going to suit up a bunch of lowly humans in those things? That’ll be the day,” said Jason.
“Why not? They give us weapons don’t they? Why not some of those suits?”
“Because the Diakans don’t give a shit about us,” said Jon’s father. “Haven’t I explained all this a hundred times?”
“I know, I know,” said Michael. “This is all part of their bigger war with the Juttari. That’s the only reason they’re here. If we all get shot up by the Chaanisar, what do the Diakans care? There’s plenty more where we came from.”
Jon quietly listened to the conversation, chewing on some mystery meat. He looked around the camp at the men. The resistance had grown quite a bit over the past few years, to the point where they might resemble an actual army.
“That’s right,” said Jon’s father. “The real battle is being fought in space. Massive armadas are slugging it out for control of this system as we speak.”
“More proof that we’re important to the Diakans,” said Michael.
“Don’t be a fool. We don’t mean shit to the Diakans. The only thing that matters is the jump gate. That’s why the Juttari first came, and that’s what the Diakans and Juttari are fighting for
control of.”
“So why are they bothering with Earth at all?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Earth is the only planet in the system capable of supporting life. To control the system, and its jump gate, you need to control Earth. The Diakans can establish permanent bases here. Or, have us establish them.”
“First you tell me that they won’t give us any suits because they don’t give a shit about us, and now you’re saying they’re going to give us bases to control the system.”
“Do you know what a proxy is?”
“Sure.”
“We would become a proxy. A Diakan puppet. They would allow us bases because they would still be pulling our strings.”
“So why not now?”
“Because we haven’t won. The Juttari need to be defeated first.”
Jon didn’t like the idea of being anybody’s puppet. But he figured they needed to do whatever it took to defeat the Juttari, and then they could worry about the Diakans. They had come a long way over the past few years, but it hadn’t been easy. The Chaanisar attack that had killed his mother had been the beginning of the Chaanisar’s year of terror. For the following twelve months the Chaanisar mercilessly punished Earth’s population. Their goal had been to destroy the resistance movement, but it made them stronger. As more and more people were slaughtered, more sought revenge. The steady stream of Diakan weapons continued, giving the population hope. The ranks of the resistance grew. Now, just three years later, they fought for the fate of their planet.
“How do you feel, son?” asked his father. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“I’m okay,” said Jon. “Just thinking.”
“He’s wondering what the hell he’s eating,” said Jason, laughing.