by Rod Carstens
No one said a word or moved.
“I say ‘attempt’ because no one in the other platoons qualified. Let’s see if you can do better.”
The sergeant waited a moment, as if he were trying to catch someone doing something they shouldn’t have been doing. “Squad, pick up your weapons.”
Dieter picked the weapon up. If felt good in his hands. It was exactly the same weight as the rail he’d trained with, and the sights appeared in good order.
“Ready on the right. Ready on the left. Ready on the firing line.”
Again the sergeant paused.
“Commence firing.”
Dieter put the rifle to his shoulder. The rifle felt good. He sighted on the closest target to test the sights. He fired it and struck the bullseye exactly where he had aimed. He proceeded through the targets out to five hundred yards. He missed once at five hundred yards, so he was not the first to finish, but he was close. Soon all of the squad was standing there, waiting.
“Goddamnit, what the fuck are you doing? I told you fucks not to put your weapons down until you've knocked all of the targets down!”
The sergeant stormed down the line, checking each member of the squad only to find out that everyone had knocked all of the silhouettes down.
“The fucking simulator must be malfunctioning.”
He strode down to the end of the line and pulled up a display to check the simulator.
“Uh, everything seems to be working. Uh, next squad.”
Dieter took a step back and led the first squad away. Ardan led the second squad into the simulator. They all qualified. Then Minga led the third squad into the booths. They all qualified. Striker stood there the whole time without saying a word, his arms folded. When the last of the third squad had finished, he asked the other sergeant, “How’d they do?”
The sergeant seemed confused.
“They broke the Von Fleet record for even regular units. I don’t understand. Who are these guys?”
“My platoon,” Striker said simply.
Next he led them to another compartment. This time platoons were standing around mats as pairs of men and women fought. There was much screaming and cheering as people won or lost. Striker led them to a mat with another platoon standing on the other side. The soldiers in the other platoon were uniformly much bigger than anyone in Dieter’s platoon, and they looked like real convicts—not debt conscripts. It looked like they had taken the worst of some prison and put them all in one platoon. After what Mati had put them through in boot camp, even these men and women did not scare Dieter. He was a Legionnaire, even if he didn’t carry the name.
“Hey, Striker, what have you got there, a bunch of office drones?”
Striker looked over at the other platoon sergeant. He was looking very smug.
“Listen up. This is to test your hand-to-hand combat skills. You will fight someone from the other platoon. You will stop when one of you can’t go on,” the other sergeant said with a mean smile.
Striker stared at the other platoon, his face impassive. Dieter and the rest of the platoon did not move or say a word.
“Who wants to go first?”
Dieter remembered what Ura had said the last night in boot camp. If there is a line for something difficult, be the first in line. He, Ardan, and Minga stepped forward.
Striker looked down at the three. “Why does this not surprise me?”
“I want that little bitch first. I have just the conscript for her!” the other sergeant bellowed.
Dieter looked and saw a hulking male with a shaved head. He had to be twice as big as Minga.
“I’ll do the choosing, Furlong!” Striker shouted. He turned and looked down at Minga.
“You want Fenes or Ardan to take this for you? He is twice your size.”
Minga smirked. “How bad can I hurt him?”
“You fight until one of you can’t go on. Just don’t kill him. You can put him in the infirmary.”
“I got this,” Minga said confidently.
Minga moved slowly toward the middle of the mat. The huge conscript was laughing as he stepped toward her.
“Well, well, little girl. Looks like I get to have some fun.”
He charged Minga, his huge arms swinging wildly. She easily ducked and stepped to the side so she could deliver a sharp snap kick to the side of his knee. He doubled over screaming, holding his leg, Minga spun and brought a roundhouse kick to the back of his head and he fell face down, unconscious.
“Don’t call me a bitch, you big fuck,” Minga said as she walked back to the platoon.
Dieter and the rest of the platoon roared with approval. Striker said nothing, but there was a change in his eyes. Real respect began appear at the edges.
“Okay, okay, Striker. Every platoon has a ringer and we have ours.”
Striker looked at Dieter and Ardan. “Who wants this one?”
Dieter and Ardan looked at each other.
“I got this one,” Dieter said.
“You sure?”
Ardan was the best at hand-to-hand in the platoon, but Dieter felt the need to establish himself. “No, I got this.”
Ardan glanced over at the conscript, who was now stepping on the mat.
“This one knows what he’s doing. Watch out for him. He looks quick,” Striker said.
Dieter nodded and stepped on the mat. The other conscript was Dieter’s size but much older. He moved easily, and his eyes were sizing Dieter up. Dieter decided to wait and counterstrike to get a sense of the skills the guy had. They circled a couple of times, then the other conscript made his move. He tried for a snap kick to Dieter’s head, but it wasn’t there. Dieter dodged the kick easily, but the snap kick had been a feint and the conscript used it to give himself momentum for a second kick. He just missed making solid contact, so the blow was a glancing one. Dieter saw stars, but it wasn’t the first time. He had faced Mati often enough to be able to take a blow and still fight on.
Just as he had been taught, he went with the force of the blow and rolled away from his opponent. The guy closed in, thinking he had Dieter. He went to stomp Dieter’s head, but Dieter caught his boot with both hands and swept his other leg. As he fell, Dieter rolled up and mounted him. Before his opponent could react, Dieter fell back, pulling his right arm straight. He wrapped a leg around his opponent’s head and hooked his foot under his knee. Leaning back and pulling the guys arm straight and squeezing with his legs, he cut off the blood supply to his opponent's brain, and the other conscript passed out. Dieter stood and walked back to the platoon.
As they were dragging his opponent away, Dieter glanced up at Striker and thought he saw the barest of smiles. Ardan went next. He put his opponent in the infirmary in thirty seconds. The other platoon called off the rest of the fights. The platoon qualified in hand-to-hand combat.
#
Striker led them through a maze of hastily constructed passageways to a small compartment. It had bunks from the deck to the ceiling so close together that the occupant would only be able to lie on their stomachs or their backs. On each bunk was a bag with the Von Fleet logo on it. Dieter filed in and went to the far bulkhead. The rest of the platoon followed until they were all crammed into the compartment.
“This is your quarters,” Striker said. “You will find on your bunks a bag containing more uniforms and personal gear. But before you begin digging into that shit, I want to know who you are. You all have obviously had some excellent training.”
The platoon looked at Dieter, but he stood there unsure of what to do. They had been told not to tell anyone what they were, but it was obvious they stood out because of their skills. He had never thought of that. He needed to think. What could he say and still not let their secret out?
“Okay, look. I will be leading you into combat. I will be standing by your side. I need to know who and what you are.”
Dieter and the others looked at one another, afraid to say anything.
“Okay, I will start it off. I
didn’t expect to have a platoon as well trained as any in a regular Von Fleet military unit. I was expecting some real shitbirds, and what do I find? I find a bunch of well-trained and tough soldiers. Now I am a Von Fleet career-military type for the same reason most have a job. It was the only thing I was qualified to do, and Von Fleet offered better pay and benefits than the Confederation. I didn’t want the stigma of joining the Legion, so I became a private-military-corporation soldier. It has paid well and I have good benefits. I volunteered for this job for one reason and that was the money. They are paying those of us who volunteered a big bonus as well as double our normal salary. When I took the job, I pictured myself having to train you as you have already been trained. We are both ahead of the game. Now who are you?”
“Not all of us trust anyone who works for Von Fleet,” Ardan said.
Striker moved closer to Ardan. He looked down at him. Dieter and Minga exchanged a glance. They were ready to defend Ardan if needed. Ardan hesitated and looked over at Dieter. Dieter hesitated too, not knowing what to say, then thought, Fuck it. He nodded.
“Because two Von Fleet security types raped me the night I was arrested.”
Striker took one huge hand and put it on Ardan’s shoulder.
“Son, those of us in the military arm of Von Fleet hate those fucks as much as you do. They are chosen because of their mental profiles. I am sorry, but I am not a security type and that is all you need to know.”
Dieter was surprised at his candor. He had not expected it from a Von Fleet military NCO. He decided he would tell him as much as he thought he could.
“Former Legionnaires were our drill instructors in boot camp,” Dieter said.
Striker turned to him with a surprised look on his face. “Why would they do that?”
“They said they had been sentenced to the Legion and knew how it felt to be in our position. They said it saved them and they wanted to make sure we had a chance to survive.”
Striker’s big, tough face broke out into what looked like the closest thing to a smile Dieter had ever seen from him.
“Well, I’ll be fucked. You never know with those Legionnaires. They are some crazy mothers. There is absolutely no telling what they will do.”
Striker looked at them with new respect. Then he said, “That explains it. Now I know where to start training you. I was just informed that your Von Fleet occupational specialty will be 03. In other words, you are going to be grunts. The people who carry guns and kill people. You’ll receive your VFOS tattoo tomorrow. It means the best food, and you will be paid more, but it also means you will have a greater chance of getting killed. It is my VFOS thought, and I’ve survived this long. Listen to me, and between what the Legionnaires taught you and my own experience you just might live through this.” Striker paused his eyes going from person to person making sure they were listening.
“The Legionnaires had time to make you tough and good shots. I’m going to take you to the next level. We will work on tactics. Now get your gear out of those bags. The only storage you have is under your mattresses. It may be lumpy, just like your heads. I will give you half an hour to get squared away, then I will come back for you. We will start your training immediately. We only have a couple of weeks before the landing. There's a lot to learn. Now get to it.”
Sol System
LSD Tarawa
Hangar Bay
Hu and Nani were standing next to one another in a battalion formation. Hu looked over at Nani. “Looks like they're going to finally tell us where we're going and what we're going to do.”
“Okay, I’ve got Ceti in the pool. What did you bet on?” Nani said.
“Too early for Ceti. I took Indi. I heard the Xotoli have invaded it so they can have another crack at Rift from a system they control. Don’t forget it has a wormhole passage directly to the Lyten system.”
“Bullshit. We need to retake Ceti,” Nani replied.
“You’ll make a lousy general.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Attention on deck!” Major Gad Regen shouted.
Hu, Nani, and the assembled Raider battalion came to attention. General Sand strode into the bay and stepped up to the podium. He looked out at the Marines standing at attention for a long moment before he spoke.
“At ease.”
The Marines all relaxed.
“Once more, my brothers and sisters in arms, we are about to enter into combat. I wanted to say a few words before Major Regen gave you your detailed briefing. Most of you have been with me since the very beginning, when we proved the value of ground troops in the Corporate Wars. Then on Rift and most recently on 703. You have endured much, but more awaits us. We are about to make a landing on a fortified planet held by the Xotoli, and this time we are going to take and hold it. No human has ever done that before. We will be the first, and you Raiders will be at the tip of the spear. You will land before the rest of the invasion. Your mission is critical to the success of the invasion as a whole. That is why I assigned the Raiders. I know I can count on you to capture your objective and hold it no matter what.”
Hu glanced at Nani and whispered.
"Great, we get the shitty job again."
Nani just smiled.
“You are Raiders. As I said after 703, you honor those we lost by how you live your lives. I expect nothing less than your best because I know that you will give it. That is how Major Aijuba trained you and that is the way you will conduct yourselves. Of that I am sure.”
Again he paused, then he thrust his fist into the air and shouted, “Aijuba!”
The Raiders as one thrust their fists into the air and repeated their new war cry.
“Aijuba! Aijuba! Aijuba!”
Sand stood staring at them, and they continued the chant until he raised his hand. As one the Raiders went silent.
“The planet you will invade is called Chika. It is Rift on steroids.”
Hu glanced over at Nani, and she just rolled her eyes.
“It’s colder, windier, and more inhospitable than Rift. Think of Mars before it was terraformed. Your training on Rift will serve you well, because this is not a raid. No smash, grab, and get out this time. We go down, hold our ground, and dig those fucks out of their holes and kill them. We will not retreat. We will either take this planet or die trying.”
Nani glanced over at Hu this time. Her face serious, their eyes met and she said.
"Know any jokes now?"
"Nope." Hu replied. "No jokes now."
Sand touched the podium and a holo of Chika appeared. The holo zoomed in to the surface, seeming to fly just above it as Sand began to describe the planet.
“It is winter on Chika, so we will miss the summer sand hurricanes that have winds of well over two hundred miles an hour. Some of the storms can become planet-wide, but the winter ones are less violent. There is little water on the surface, but beneath the surface there is plenty in the form of ice. Von Fleet will drill and bring it up for our use. There are no active volcanoes—Chika is too old—but old calderas dot its surface. The largest is six hundred miles across and over twenty-five-thousand feet high. About fifty percent of the surface is a maze of canyons and craters. There are large plains cut by dunes, hummocks, knobs, and other surface features shaped by the winds. In other words, it is an ideal place to defend against an invasion. The Xotoli showed us on 703 that they like to dig in to defend. Expect the same thing here. If given the opportunity, they will counterattack as soon as possible after the initial contact.”
Hu stared at the reddish surface of Chika. It did look much like Rift from space.
“There are no known lifeforms except lichens and some hardy plants. So if something moves, kill it. You have been given the mission of taking and holding the spaceport currently under construction. All of you were on Rift and some of you were at the spaceport. You know how important it is for us to take and hold the port. One of the main reasons we were able to hold off the Xotoli invasion on Rift was the fact that some of
the men and women standing here held it until relieved. We expect the same this time. You will be dropped on the port itself. There are hybrids working on building the port. So this will be a combat drop. Expect resistance when you hit the ground.”
Hu and Nani looked at one another. They both had been at the spaceport on Rift and knew trained defenders could make this a very costly battle—they themselves had against overwhelming odds. The Xotoli had thrown thousands of hybrids at them, but Hu and Nani, with the other Legionnaires, had been able hold the port until reinforcements had arrived. It had been very close, but they had held. Both had barely survived. So they knew how difficult this mission was going to be. General Sand didn’t need to elaborate on it. They also remembered how many of the Xotoli hybrids they’d killed as they were dropped on the port. Now it was their turn to be aerial targets.
“I cannot emphasize enough just how important it is for you to take and hold the port. The rest of the invasion will be on an open plain approximately five miles from the port. It was the closest area that non-drop-qualified troops are able to land. Once their landing zones are secured, a forward operating base will be established there as both a strongpoint and a place for supplies. You will land first. Naval gunfire will try and take out any defenses they can without destroying the port. It must be captured as intact as possible for immediate use. I will be with the units on the plain. I am personally counting on you. Aijuba trained you, and you have more combat experience than any other unit in the entire Confederation. You are the only ones for the job.”
Sand glanced at Major Regen, and who shouted, “Attention on deck!”
The battalion came to attention. When General Sand had exited the bay through a hatch at the front of the Bay, Major Regen said, “At ease. You will now break up into your individual platoons to get specific details of your part in the mission. Dismissed.”
Hu glanced at Nani. “Fuck,” he said.
“You wanted to be a Raider. Don’t look at me,” Nani replied.
“No, it was your idea,” Hu said, laughing.