by Jack Hanson
His own shield kicked up once, flattening the grass around him, and he ducked back behind his tree. It was only a glancing blow, and his shields were within the green at eighty three percent. Sand glanced up and swallowed, looking at the underside of the walkways that spanned the training area. He knew Sergeant Black and Pairna were up there watching them. He was sure they’d have feedback when this was all said and done.
“Harper, how are things over there?” he asked. The remaining droid was providing covering fire while the rear two bounded forwards, still firing. By doctrine, a single janissary was supposed to be trained to deal with four Peace Federation Naith soldiers. Between equipment and training, a lone Janissary was a foe to be respected.
He was about to call Jane again when he heard a grunt.
“Harper? Jane? What is going on over there?” he asked as he popped back out of cover and caught the front droid in the open, knocking it down at a little over seventy meters.
“Harper, you better talk to your teammate if you’re in trouble,” cut in another voice over the net. Black was listening to their communications from his vantage point, and Sand would assume the Khajali was doing the same.
“Sand, I’m dealing with four over here as well,” she said. He heard her assault rifle bark, down in a riverbed.
“How did you get over there,” he asked, moving to his left as the two droids split up to try and flank him. “And where did they come from?” he thought out loud.
“Pirates passing by took an interest and decided to try and scavenge any tech they could find,” hissed another voice.
Sand rolled behind cover as his shield flared again, the energy level pushed into yellow. He fired from the hip and managed to catch another droid in the open, his rounds knocking down its shield and causing it to crumple in a heap. He scrambled over a deadfall and listened for the sound of his opponent. Meanwhile he heard Jane’s rifle go off, only to be met by a burst of gunfire.
“Falconer, I’m trapped over here. There’s a thicket behind me and they’re moving in. If you can get over here, you should be able to pin them down,” she advised.
Gritting his teeth, Sand took a deep breath and ran towards the sound of fire.
“I’m coming,” he said.
His last opponent popped up, firing a slew of rounds at him. His shields crumbled, and he felt his arm go stiff, locked in place by the immobilizers on his training armor. Cursing, he pulled himself behind a tree trunk and used it to brace his rifle, firing off the last of that magazine and dropping the robot.
Another exchange of fire, and he heard Jane yelp over the radio.
“Falconer, where are you?” asked Black, purposefully applying pressure to the situation. Sand didn’t respond, taking the time to slap in a new magazine and make his way to the bank of the river. He was several meters above the enemy, who were taking their time bounding in on Jane. He had a problem; his assault rifle would be difficult to fire with one hand.
“Harper, my arm is dead, but I’m coming, just hold on,” he grunted as he sprinted forward.
His feet skidded on the rocky ledge and inspiration hit. Bracing his rifle against his deadened arm, he fired a full-auto burst across the droid squad. He had gambled that their shields weren’t as finely tuned to the owner’s profile as the ones they were wearing, and he was right as bubbles popped up and then vanished.
As the enemy turned to deal with this new foe, Sand dropped his assault rifle, took a knee, and picked up a fist-sized rock. The chunk of slate he hurled smashed into one droid’s display, and it dropped to its knees in a shower of sparks.
“Whoa! Ha!” exclaimed a third voice, unrecognized over the intercom. Another rock came screaming in and went wide, but the third right behind it jerked a robotic head to the side, and it too went down. Jane popped up and shot the last two in the back, the sleek humanoid torsos crumpling. The only noise in the clearing was the sound of circuits frying.
There was silence for a moment, and Sand wondered if he was in trouble for breaking the training aides.
“Alright, that was a bit unorthodox, but we’ll discuss it in the after-action review. You two go get water and take a seat in the green zone,” said Black neutrally.
Sand felt his arm loosen up, and waited for Jane to join him.
“That was close,” he said as they jogged towards the flashing green lights that marked the edge of the training zone.
“I was thinking that if they followed me, they’d bottle neck,” said Jane, hitting the side of her helmet with the heel of her hand. “I’d be able to pick them off as they came in one at a time. If you hadn’t been there, they would have gotten me.”
“Eh, it wasn’t a bad plan, just you didn’t leave yourself an escape route in case it went wrong,” Sand said as they passed the markers and slowed down, taking off their helmets. Both took a deep breath of the cool autumn air and began walking towards the lean-to where a hydration system awaited them.
“No, I did. I saw there was this path, but I hesitated when they were coming in, and I lost my opportunity,” Jane told him.
“Oh wow, well then,” Sand said. “Good thing I was there. How do you think Salem and Paris are going?” he asked.
“Well that depends if they get eight opponents or not,” Jane said with a bit of an edge.
* * *
At the other end of the clearing, marked by flashing yellow lights, Paris and Salem stood, trembling from pre-combat nerves and trying not to burn too much energy before they were thrown into the crucible.
“Sounded like there were a lot of rounds fired,” Paris commented.
Salem nodded in agreement. “Definitely more than four rifles… Wait, someone’s coming.”
She could see Black making his way from the instructor’s ledge, cradling some sort of large weapon against his body. They watched him as he approached, stopping before Paris.
“Fairnought, give me your assault rifle please? I have something else I’d like you to try,” Black said.
Paris nodded, and cleared the weapon, dropping the magazine and neatly catching the training round. Black nodded in approval and handed over the new equipment after taking Paris’s.
“Wow,” said the Rillik, surprised at the greater weight of the weapon. It was much longer than the stocky assault rifle Salem now carried, with a flash suppressor at the end and a drum-fed magazine. Black reached over and pressed a button on the scope. Targeting data fed directly into his HUD.
“That puts what the scope sees in the corner of your HUD. If you want to turn it off, or you damage the scope or whatever, just press the button again. It’ll resume normal operations,” Black instructed. “Plastic is nice, but it doesn’t have the same structural support that steel provides, especially not for a thirteen millimeter round.”
Both cadets looked over at Black.
“Did you say thirteen millimeter?” asked Salem.
Black nodded. “Yes. It’s a prototype that’s designed for use as a long-range battle rifle or an assault weapon, as needed. You can flip that switch there to change between single shot and rapid fire modes. The drum holds a hundred rounds, so that’s where a lot of the weight is coming from.”
“That’s a lot of kick,” murmured Paris.
“Give it a shot,” Black said, deftly ignoring Paris’s complaint.
“Do I get something too?” asked Salem.
“Oh yes,” said Black, “You get to have a partner with a prototype weapon.”
Salem pouted, not quite seriously, and Black nodded.
“Well I do have something for you,” he began.
“Is it a sidearm?” Salem was best with a pistol, liking the feel of the .45 caliber 1911 that was still in use from centuries ago.
“No, it’s another drum of ammo for your partner’s weapon,” Black said, bursting her dreams and handing over the heavy drum. Salem grun
ted at the weight of it.
“Hold this, we need to clip it to my back,” she told Paris, who took it while she dug some magnetic clips from a pocket and passed them to Paris. She took the drum back while he placed the clips on her shoulders and the middle of her back and attached the drum to her back. It would stay in place unless he gave it a hard yank.
“You two ready?” Black asked and received two nods in turn. “Alright then, we’ll start in a moment.”
Paris watched Black move back to his observation post, and soon the lights began to flash from yellow to red. Moving out, the cadets began to advance from cover to cover, trying their best to keep three-sixty degree security.
“Do you see anything? Or hear anything?” Paris asked, looking over at Salem. The mirror section of her visor covered the top half of her face, leaving her mouth exposed and reflecting a distorted image of himself.
“No, not a thing,” she said. They both heard the distant crack at the same time. Salem seemed about to bound up, but Paris made a hand signal, telling her to stay down by pushing his palm to the ground. Rolling out from behind his pile of debris, he pulled down the built-in bipod. Looking at the reticle in his HUD caused it to automatically zoom in, and it became larger, taking up more of the HUD.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he whispered as he saw what was moving through the scope. A squad of droids done up as Naith Defenders, with a duo of Kraka hounds, ran from tree to tree to flush out anyone taking cover. The Naith Defenders were the elite of the Peace Federation, the only way for the normally oppressed males to gain any real standing in Naith society and not be slaughtered on the whim of a Matriarch. These droids were even done up to look like defenders, with the squat wide torsos and heavy sloping shoulders that were trademark of the drug regime Defenders were given.
The droids that functioned as Kraka hounds shared the same thick shoulder muscularity, and had short muzzles that could crush metal. They were about three hundred yards away, and heading towards them.
“Paris, what is it?” Salem demanded. Flipping up a segment of vambrace, he patched his HUD into her visor, and waited for her low curse.
“Ugh! Are those Defenders?” she whispered.
Paris nodded. “So now what?” he asked.
“Well,” began Salem. “I don’t think he gave you that beast of a gun so you could kill droids we’ve fought against before, so I think that’s part of our advantage here. What worry me are those hounds. Our shields won’t stop those bites, and they’re going to be ridiculously fast when they’re coming at us.”
Silence for a moment, and then Paris spoke up.
“I have an idea,” he said, explaining it to Salem. She listened, nodding along.
“Okay, that’s good, but what do we do about the defenders. They tend to rush forwards if they’re not being fired on, and they’re fast as well,” she pointed out.
“Leave them to me. You just do what I said about that other hound,” he told her.
“Okay then,” she murmured. “On you.”
Paris took one of the hounds in his sights and pulled the trigger. The shield flared for a split second and then the hound fell over, deactivated. He grunted at the recoil, and saw that the Defender droids were pointing over at him. They fired their rifles, flechettes flying at him in tight groups. His shield began to drop, but he opened up on full auto, the rounds causing the droids to dive for cover.
As he continued to pin down individual droid Defenders, he ignored the hound that was barreling at him, baying in its strange two-tone howl. He was amazed at the reach and power of the new rifle, and tried to put more faith in Salem as opposed to turning and blasting the hound. If he let up on his fire for a second, the Defenders would split up and try to flank them.
Salem waited until optimal range for a close burst, then dumped half a magazine into the droid hound, dropping it hard. The Defenders got up, and began bounding towards the duo, but Paris’s battle rifle managed to catch two with single shots while Salem knocked down the other two with her rifle as they got closer.
“Alright, you two,” said Black, “Go over to the green zone and hydrate. We’ll be down shortly.”
High fiving each other, Salem and Paris jogged over and met up with a relaxing Sand and Jane.
“How’d it go?” Sand asked, and then looked at the weapon Paris was lugging. “What the hell is that? It’s almost as big as I am!”
Paris rattled off its specs as he cleared the rifle before handing it over to Sand, who just as quickly handed it back.
“It weighs a ton. Were you guys killing Khajalians or something?” Sand asked seriously.
“Defenders,” Salem said. Sand gave a low whistle, but Jane only nodded.
“We dealt with eight enemies, so that’s alright,” said Jane. The boys looked at each other and Paris felt another war of words coming on. He couldn’t figure it out; one moment they were laughing at something, and then the next they were trying to one up each other. However, before they could start, Black and Pairna walked in, followed by a man wearing a severe black suit, riding boots, and carrying a cane.
He seemed old, and his head was shaved smooth. A silver clasp on the cartilage of his right ear and a silver ring with a crest were the only jewelry they saw. Yet for all his age and litheness, there was a presence about him, something that screamed command.
“So,” began Black, looking at the four. “Fairnought, what did you think of the weapon?”
“It was very impressive. One hell of a kick, though. I’d hate to know what the full rounds do,” Paris said.
“You’ll find out soon enough. It’s your main weapon now,” Black told him, causing Paris to shake his head at the new ordnance.
“What? Is it too much for you? Surely, Rillik, you’ve held a rai’lith, and you know how heavy those are,” said Pairna. The Khajali had a point, as thrombium was not a light metal by any means. Chastened, Paris planted the butt of his battle rifle between his feet and looked down.
“Good job with those Defenders, you two. It was a slight curveball, since their tactics were a bit more advanced, but they were using the same weapons that the basic Naith trooper uses, so don’t pat yourselves on the back too hard. Expect the real thing to try blasting you out of hiding and using smoke to obscure the hounds until they’re right on top of you,” Black commented.
“Rock thrower,” said Pairna, looking at Sand. “What made you think of that?”
“My arm was dead, and I wasn’t going to be able to aim as well as I needed to before my shield went down again because they were firing at me,” Sand said. “Didn’t have time to wait for the shields to come up again.”
The Khajali nodded. “How did you know you’d be able to activate their shield?” he asked.
Sand shrugged. “It was only a guess,” he admitted.
“That’s all well and good, but what if it didn’t work?” Pairna countered.
“I was hoping that Cadet Harper would deal with them when their backs were turned,” Sand said.
“Did you know you were supposed to do this?” Pairna asked Jane.
She sighed. “No, sir.”
“Why did you run into the riverbed with those high slopes?” he asked her.
Pairna nodded as Jane explained her logic again. “All well and fine, but make sure you communicate your plans with each other and have a backup. Otherwise, nice improvisation,” he finished, perhaps deciding he had drawn enough blood.
The man in black stepped forwards, chuckling. “Young man, I don’t think we’ve ever had someone break a droid with a rock before. That’s quite an arm you have on you,” he commented.
Black growled from deep in his chest. “Epsilon Team, at attention for Commander Archer.”
The team jumped off the bench, coming to crisp attention for their commanding officer. Even Pairna brought his rai’lith to his side and planted
the butt in the dirt with one hand to his chest in the Khajalian version of the position.
“At ease all of you,” said an amused Archer, waving a hand. The man came off as a grandfather, one who’d let you nip from his flask and give you ice cream when no one was looking, but there were definitely layers to this one.
“You did not make commander in Janissary Command by being an easy disciplinarian.” His voice was pure whiskey and cigars, rough but not unpleasant to listen to.
“As Black has told you, we’ve known each other from way back. I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t pushing you all to death, and glad to see that he didn’t end up killing you like he did with the last bunch of recruits I sent his way.” Seeing their pale faces, Archer corrected himself quickly. “No, that was a joke. Dear God, Black, what kind of monster do they think you are?” he asked, laughing.
The corner of Black’s mouth twitched, and he glanced at Archer. “Oh, I’m just the average instructor, nothing special,” he said.
“That’s why they’ve been out on this course three times a week,” Archer corrected, and then turned back to the team.
“You four did well out there, especially with the curveballs that were thrown your way,” he said. “I just wanted to stop by and see how your training is going. Some think that, with the Federation crushed, we have no threats, but that’s hardly the case. Have you heard of the colonies going silent?”
All nodded, and Archer continued. “They’ve just been flattened. No slaves, no razing that we can see, just wiped from existence. So, I just wanted to let you know, if you didn’t before, that just because we don’t have a war to send you today doesn’t mean we won’t have one tomorrow, that’s all. In all, you looked sharp out there, keep it up,” he said as a final compliment, and then turned. “Master Assault Sergeant Black, Ar’bakh Pairna, if you would join me in my office tonight, I’d like to have a discussion, refreshments on me.” He patted Black on the shoulder with familiarity.