Jerad raised his eyebrows as if guessing Richard’s unspoken question. Why are we in a three-against-one scenario? His friend seemed as mystified as Richard.
Heck, Richard thought, if anyone should be pitted one against three, it should be Jerad.
“This training scenario,” TAC Officer Myers continued, “is designed to test your control of a cat as well as your initiative in overcoming your opponents. Since you haven’t completed tactics’ training in cats yet, we won’t be grading on how well you integrate your cats together as a fighting unit. Those skills will be taught later. Instead, we’re concerned with how well you think outside the box. You’re going to be wizard scouts. We expect you to innovate. Are there any questions?”
No one said anything. Cadets rarely asked TAC Officer Myers a question. He was not one of those instructors who thought there was no such thing as a stupid question. Richard and his fellow cadets had discovered early on that TAC Officer Gaston Myers considered any question coming out of a cadet’s mouth to be a stupid question.
“Good,” said TAC Officer Myers with what Richard thought was the hint of a sadistic smile. “In order to motivate you cadets a little, we’re adding an incentive to this afternoon’s training. Since you’re the last cadets in your class to participate in this urban-training scenario, you’ll undoubtedly notice the other cats are a little on the dirty side. In fact, your fellow cadets appear to have gotten all of their cats filthy. I’m sure you know our maintenance chief, Sergeant Ron, would be extremely displeased if we turned our cats back into the motor pool without a thorough cleaning. Unfortunately for you, the rest of your junior cohort has already been released to start their three-day pass. That presents us with a little dilemma.”
TAC Officer Myers took a moment to scan the four cadets. His gaze stopped on Richard.
“We all know how much cadet 832 enjoys challenges, don’t we?” said TAC Officer Myers.
His comment was met by silence.
“I said, we all know how much cadet 832 enjoys challenges, don’t we?” said TAC Officer Myers a little louder.
“Sir! Yes, sir!” Richard shouted in unison with his three friends.
TAC Officer Myers smiled. “Of course, he does. So, we’ve developed a special challenge which I think at least three of you are going to enjoy. Your cohort’s three-day weekend officially starts tonight at 1800 hours. I’m sure all of you have been looking forward to it.”
The smile on TAC Officer Myers’ face grew even more sadistic. “My sources tell me some of you are even attending the Fleet Admiral’s Ball tomorrow night.” He paused as if for effect.
Red warning flags arose in Richard’s mind. Even after six month’s absence, Richard’s distrust of his TAC officer was as strong as ever.
“As I was saying,” said TAC Officer Myers. “The other cadets have been released for the weekend. And someone forgot to have them clean their cats before they left. As a result, the loser of this training scenario will have the privilege of assisting our motor pool personnel in cleaning and maintaining the cats before being released to start their weekend pass. The winners will be free to start their pass immediately.”
Richard picked up on the fact that TAC Officer Myers had made the word loser singular and the word winners plural. He silently cursed his TAC officer.
TAC Officer Myers stared hard at Richard. “Now, doesn’t that sound fair?”
“Sir! Yes, sir!” Richard said along with his three friends.
“All right then,” TAC Officer Myers said rubbing his hands together. “I want you cadets in position on the urban-training range in thirty minutes. And may the Creator help any cadet who’s late. I will personally make sure that cadet is never late for anything ever again. Are there any questions?”
“Sir! No, sir!” said all four cadets.
Richard did a quick calculation. They were currently inside hangar 1. Myers had assigned him a cat in the hangar farthest from hangar 1. He’d have to circle around the entire length of the runway to get to hangar 32. Even at top speed, Richard figured he’d take at least twelve minutes to run the three kilometers to hangar 32. That would only leave him eighteen minutes to fire up his cat and get to the training area. Richard was sure Myers was setting him up for failure.
Jerk, Richard thought.
“Then what are you wizard scout wannabees doing in my hangar?” shouted Myers. “Get those leather personnel-carriers on your feet moving, and get your good-for-nothing carcasses out of here.”
Richard did an about face. His friends followed suit. They all took off running towards the large hangar door. Beyond it, Richard could make out the hot-asphalt taxiway awaiting them outside. Once they’d cleared the hangar doors and were out of sight of their TAC officer, Richard slowed to a trot. Jerad, Tam, and Telsa did likewise.
“Tough luck, old buddy,” said Tam. “It figures Myers would come up with a way to cheat you out of your weekend pass.”
“I haven’t lost yet,” Richard said without much confidence.
“No, you haven’t,” agreed Jerad. “But don’t expect any mercy from us. I like you Rick, but I’ve got big plans for this weekend. And, they don’t include cleaning and maintaining a hundred and twenty-four cats.”
“Yeah, same here,” said Tam. “I’ve got a hot date lined up. I’ll give your regrets to Liz when I see her, Rick.” A mischievous grin appeared on Tam’s face as she added, “I’m sure an attractive woman like Liz won’t have any trouble getting some good-looking naval officer to dance with her at the ball.”
“Very funny, Tam,” Richard said. “After I win this fight, I’ll be sure and tell your dance partners you’ll be thinking of them while you’re at the motor pool washing my cat.”
“That’s the spirit,” laughed Telsa good-naturedly as she punched Richard on the arm. “A good wizard scout always maintains their confidence even in the face of certain defeat.”
In spite of Richard’s poor odds in the upcoming training, he joined Telsa with a small laugh of his own. It was hard for anyone to even pretend they were irritated with Telsa. Her natural good-humor was infectious. Most of the cadets treated Telsa like their little sister.
“Well, here we are,” said Jerad as he stopped in front of hangar 2. “Sorry, Rick. It’s a long walk to hangar 32.”
“Not to mention it’s hot as hell,” said Tam grinning. “But don’t feel bad, Rick. I’ll be thinking of you when I’m in the air-conditioned comfort of my cockpit.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Telsa. “I’ll be as easy on you as I–”
“You cadets better hustle!” shouted a voice from the doorway of hangar 2. It was their cohort’s armorer, Sergeant Hendricks.
“Sir! Yes, sir,” Richard shouted. His friends followed suit.
“And don’t call me sir,” said Sergeant Hendricks with a friendly smile. “I’m a sergeant. Unlike officers, I work for a living.”
Tam and Telsa headed for the hangar door. Jerad remained behind.
“Rick, a word of advice,” said Jerad. “Myers has you in a Tomcat. It’s a good vehicle, but you haven’t been trained in a Tomcat. Its third leg has a tendency to screw up new pilots. When I trained newbies in the Tomcat in the past, I’ve always told them to think of the rear leg more as a tail than a leg for walking. Its purpose is to provide support when firing the 40mm autocannon. We’ll just be firing paintballs today, so the autocannon’s recoil will be minimal. I’d recommend keeping the rear leg in the stored position. You’ll only need the two primary legs for walking.”
“Thanks, Jerad,” Richard said appreciatively. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’d wish you luck, but that would mean I’ll be spending my weekend cleaning cats. So, I guess I’ll stick with thanks.” Richard smiled to make sure his friend knew he was joking.
Jerad grinned back. “I tend to make my own luck, Rick, so watch your back. I’ll be seeing you in twenty-eight minutes.”
Richard nodded his head and began double-timing down the taxiway. He paced himself. He was i
n a hurry, but it wouldn’t do him any good to pass out from heat exhaustion before he got to his destination. The temperature was hot enough that Richard could feel the asphalt of the taxiway sticking to the bottoms of his boots. By the time Richard got even with hangar 5, sweat was already dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. Richard looked across the runway to his destination. He had a long ways to go.
“I hate deserts,” Richard muttered between breaths. “And I hate Myers.”
In spite of the heat, Richard tried picking up the pace a little. Each breath felt like he was sucking air from a hot sauna. Richard began worrying once he reached hangar 32 he’d be too exhausted to pilot his Tomcat. Thoughts of spending a nice weekend with Liz grew smaller with each step.
Richard heard a vehicle approaching from his rear. He shifted to his right to give it room to pass. Hitching a ride was not an option for cadets. Richard had no doubt TAC Officer Myers was watching his every move via tele-bots. It was common knowledge among the cadets that the microscopic tele-bots were positioned all over the Academy’s training areas. Richard knew from experience their video and audio could be sent over the tele-network through the central computer to terminals monitored by the Academy’s TAC officers.
Instead of passing, the vehicle slowed down until it was keeping pace with Richard.
“You ain’t ever gonna get there at this rate, cadet,” came a hillbilly-sounding voice. The voice belonged to an old, scraggly-bearded, long-haired man sitting in the driver’s seat of an orange fuel truck. The old man had a friendly grin on his face.
“Oh, I’ll get there, Sergeant Ron,” Richard said giving a grin of his own. “I’m just not sure what shape I’ll be in when I arrive.”
Sergeant Ron wasn’t really a sergeant. He’d served in the military as a vehicle mechanic while an enlisted soldier. The word was he loved working with his beloved U.H.A.A.V.s, but he hated the spit and polish of military life. When his superiors informed him they were going to promote him to sergeant and send him to another unit, he’d told them they could stick their sergeant stripes where the sun didn’t shine. Since expressing opinions in such a manner was frowned upon in the military, Sergeant Ron had found himself out of the military and back in civilian life. However, two months after he’d left the military, Sergeant Ron had somehow acquired a position as the civilian contractor in charge of the Academy’s motor pool. He’d been with the Academy ever since. In spite of Sergeant Ron’s previous dislike for the military, he was popular with both cadets and instructors. Even the Academy’s TAC officers called him Sergeant Ron.
“Well, you might have time to lollygag around, cadet 832,” said Sergeant Ron still grinning, “but I have important things to do. And, I don’t have time to wait while you take a leisurely stroll around the airfield. So, hop on in here before you pass out from heat exhaustion. We’ve got things to do over at hangar 32.”
“I’m not sure my TAC officer would want me to hitch a ride,” Richard said. The offer was tempting, but he could almost feel Myers’ eyes drilling into his back as it was.
“Nonsense,” said Sergeant Ron. “I just left Myers. He told me he’d given you strict orders to obey my every command.” With another smile, Sergeant Ron said, “Now, get in before I put you on report. That’s an order, cadet.”
Richard didn’t argue further. He jumped on the fuel tanker’s sideboard and opened the door. Before he could get fully inside, Sergeant Ron hit the accelerator and took a hard left straight towards the runway.
“Whoa!” Richard said as he pulled himself the rest of the way inside and buckled into the passenger seat. “You can’t cross the runway without permission, Sergeant Ron.”
“Ha! Who says I can’t?” said Sergeant Ron as he picked up a hand mike. “Tower, this is tanker 103; crossing runway midfield from west to east.”
“Negative, tanker 103,” said a feminine voice over a speaker in the truck’s dashboard. “Cargo shuttle is on short final. Turn right and proceed along taxiway.”
Looking out the driver’s door window, Richard saw the bright lights of a cargo shuttle about a kilometer out. Instead of turning to the right as directed, Sergeant Ron shoved the accelerator lever forward a notch.
“You’re coming in garbled, tower,” said Sergeant Ron. “Did you say proceed ahead of cargo shuttle to far taxiway?”
“Negative, tanker 103,” said the feminine voice in a higher pitch. “Do not cross the runway. Abort.”
By this time the tanker was at the edge of the runway. Looking at Richard, Sergeant Ron said, “Hold on tight, cadet. This is where we find out who’s stupider; the guys in the shuttle or us.” With those words, Sergeant Ron slammed the accelerator lever full forward as he gave a wild laugh.
When the tanker reached the middle of the runway, the shuttle was only a hundred meters out and five meters above the ground.
“We’re not going to make it,” Richard said.
A blast of noise came from Richard’s left as the shuttle’s engines let out a long streak of energy. The shuttle rose higher and passed a few meters above the tanker.
“See? What’d I tell ya?” said Sergeant Ron as he gave another laugh. “You don’t need permission if you know how to sweet talk the tower.”
“Sergeant Ron,” Richard said. “I think the next time you offer me a ride, I’m going to turn and run the other way.”
Sergeant Ron laughed and said, “Now you’re getting smart, cadet. That’s what my wife does.”
Chapter 3 – The Tomcat
_____________________________________
The tanker pulled in front of hangar 32. Richard hurriedly opened his door and jumped out while saying, “Sergeant Ron, with all due respect, sir, you’re an absolute nut!”
If the old maintenance chief had been a real sergeant, Richard would probably have kept his mouth shut. But before he’d left on his mission, Richard had gotten comfortable trading banter with Sergeant Ron due to all the times he’d pulled extra duty at the motor pool. Richard doubted Sergeant Ron would take offense.
He was right. Sergeant Ron just jumped out of the truck and began running alongside Richard towards the hangar door. The cantankerous old maintenance chief was grinning. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Oh, you cadets with your ‘yes sirs’ and ‘no sirs’,” said Sergeant Ron. “You worry too much about rules and regulations. Now back when I was in the military, I’ll tell you we had it rough. We couldn’t afford all the niceties you young whippersnappers seem to thrive on nowadays. Yep, those were the good old days.”
“I thought you hated the military when you were on active duty, Sergeant Ron,” Richard said as he slipped through the hangar door.
“Naw,” said Sergeant Ron close on Richard’s heels. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I loved the military. I just hated the rules, the regulations, the sergeants, and with only a couple of exceptions, I especially hated the officers. Come to think of it, I wasn’t all that fond of having to be where I was told, when I was told, and not being able to do what I wanted when I wanted. Other than that, I loved the military.”
“Well,” Richard said as he came to a stop inside the hangar, “If you took all those things away, you wouldn’t have soldiers. You’d have a bunch of civilians.”
“By golly,” laughed Sergeant Ron, “I think you’re right. I guess that’s why you’re a highfalutin wizard scout cadet, and I’m just a poor little maintenance chief responsible for a motor pool with eighteen billion credits worth of equipment.”
Richard saw some of that equipment now. Four of the Academy’s U.H.A.A.V.s were arrayed around the sides of the hangar. Sergeant Ron began walking towards the left wall where the smallest of four cats stood on two metal legs. It was a Tomcat.
“Ah,” said Sergeant Ron, “you know I’m just fooling with you, 832. Heck, I’ve often kicked myself in the rear for not staying in the military. I could’ve been retired and enjoying the good life by now instead of sweating away seven days a week with a bunch
of grease monkeys working on cats.”
Sergeant Ron stopped in front of the Tomcat. Like its smaller cousin the Warcat, the Tomcat was designed as a scout. At four meters high, the Tomcat was slightly larger than the three meter tall Warcat. It was also heavier armed. Its left weapon’s pod looked similar to an arm with a permanently affixed 40mm autocannon at the end instead of a hand. Its right weapon’s pod was actually a fully-functional arm with a five-fingered, metallic claw for a hand. The Tomcat model standing in front of Richard gripped a 20mm chain gun in its right claw. A metallic holster of sorts on the Tomcat’s right side could be used to store the chain gun when it was not in use. A rocket pod with six anti-armor missiles was positioned on the Tomcat’s shoulder.
“I thought Tomcats had three legs,” Richard said noticing only two legs.
“It does,” said Sergeant Ron, “but I had Charlie stow the rear-brace leg. You shouldn’t need it just firing paintballs.”
Richard glanced over at Charlie as he pushed a wheeled stepladder next to the Tomcat. Charlie waved one of his four arms at Richard in recognition. Richard nodded back. The old lizard didn’t talk much, but Richard liked him. He was competent, and Richard liked lifeforms who could be depended upon to do their jobs regardless of their species.
Switching his attention back to the Tomcat, Richard gazed up towards the cockpit towering above him. Richard hadn’t yet had a chance to pilot one of the Academy’s Tomcats. But he’d piloted a Warcat several times, and they were similar in operation. Richard was confident he could handle the metal monster with just a little assistance from his battle computer.
Myers screwed up, Richard thought. I’ll bet he thought assigning me a small scout would hurt my chances of winning.
Richard was actually glad he’d drawn one of the scout cats. As Jerad had said, operating them was basically like wearing an oversized battle suit. If his TAC officer had put him in a medium-sized cat like a Long Cat or one of the heavier cats like the Leviathan, he’d have had his hands full. He only vaguely remembered the layouts of their control systems.
Wizard Scout (Intergalactic Wizard Scout Chronicles Book 3) Page 3