We Are The Wolf: Wolfpack Book 1

by Toby Neighbors

  "We encourage our troops to tinker. It's healthy in a lot of ways. Like all specialties, our troops maintain their own equipment. In our case it helps keep our fine motor skills at peak performance. Pushing two hundred pounds of dead weight is easy, assembling complex servos, gears, even nuts and bolts can be a challenge. Heavy Armor loves a challenge. Plus these men's lives, and those of their entire platoon, depend on the proper functionality of their armor when they are in the field. Plus, they know their equipment and the needs of their platoon better than any R&D department. Almost all improvements in our armor come from veterans in the field. These men are smart, strong, and highly motivated. They are not cannon fodder."

  "Of course not," Dean said seriously.

  "No one understands the team concept better than Heavy Armor. Respect your troopers and they will fight for you until their last breath. We love what we do, Ensign. You'll learn that soon enough. Let's go down and meet the trainees, then we'll grab chow and get you outfitted for training armor."

  Dean's day flew by. After breakfast he was given a suit of Heavy Armor. Unlike the custom fitted armor the graduating recruits received, Dean was fitted with stage one training armor, that was exactly half the weight of actual combat armor. It was well worn and clean, the padding stained with sweat, but it smelled of disinfectant, not body odor. Dean was well built but lean, and the armor hung a little loose on him. The staff sergeants who oversaw the training armor adjusted the straps until he could move without the armor rubbing blisters on his shoulders and neck.

  Dean felt like a turtle. The armor was essentially a big metal plate on his chest, with counter weights. On his back was an even larger metal plate, one that extended above his head and to his knees. It was also wider than his shoulders by almost nine inches on either side. He wore a helmet that was almost identical to his PID from the OTA, but not nearly as advanced. He had communications control, and weapon controls, although his armor hadn't been outfitted with the shoulder-mounted, rear-facing utility cannon the Heavy Armor troops carried into battle.

  Dean grilled the staff sergeant about every detail of the armor. It was made of hydrogen-titanium alloy with top-of-the-line impact-resistant technology. The metal hydrogen made the armor light enough to carry into battle, as well as conductive enough that the armor's circuitry could be channeled through it with almost no loss of signal or power. The battery that powered the armor's weapons and electronics was located exactly where Dean's belt buckle would normally be located.

  Once he had armor of his own, he was taught how to clean and maintain it. He suited up, powered the armor on, moved around, then pulled the armor off. It was a grueling process, but a necessary one. The staff sergeant worked with Dean all afternoon. He practiced pulling wounded troopers, played by a group of wise-cracking NCOs, from armor in various states of failure. He was tired, drenched in sweat, and happy to be finished when he was deemed worthy by Staff Sergeant Hoskins and allowed to clean up before evening chow. They sent him off with Heavy Armor specs downloaded on his tablet for further study that evening.

  Dean showered, hurried across the base to the officers’ mess, ate alone, then returned to his room to study the information on the Heavy Armor's capabilities. He had been briefed on the armor by the PID during his officer training at the Grooms Lake space base, but it was like watching a movie trailer. He had been given just enough information to be curious. At last he had the full write up on the armor and he felt as though he had been given a long-lost sci-fi novel. Dean knew that metal hydrogen was used in various applications such as batteries, clean energy, and scientific applications, yet he had never heard of the metal being forged into alloy for armor, and the results were spectacular. The impact-resistance technology was so strong it could withstand powerful concussions.

  Heavy Armor would shrug off gunshots like rain bounced from an umbrella. The armor had been tested against grenades, anti-armor munitions such as shoulder-fired rockets, and even demolition charges. The armor even stood up to the charge of a bull, which could have made the outlawed sport of bull fighting a completely different activity.

  The next day Dean was turned over to Sergeant Browne's squad and put through combat drills. The men in the squad were much bigger than Dean, but they were fresh recruits straight out of their two-week induction. Browne explained the six basic formations for Heavy Armor. The tactics dated back to ancient times. Romans carried large, rectangular shields which they stood behind to fight their enemies. The shields were positioned in an overlapping pattern, forming a shield wall that baffled the barbarian hordes who charged at the legionaries in an undisciplined mob. The biggest difference was that the Heavy Armor troops turned with their backs to the incoming attack, so that the turtle like shields that were part of their combat armor were facing the enemy.

  The drill consisted of a shouted order, by Sergeant Browne, followed by the squad taking positions and then enduring a variety of attacks. The first formation was a straight line, shoulder to shoulder, shields overlapping. It took Dean a while to get used to having his back to the enemy. Even with the big shield that covered him completely in a kneeling position, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to get plowed down from behind.

  The squad playing as the attackers were Heavy Armor troopers in their last week of training. They were without armor and instead had a variety of weapons to use against the squad of fresh recruits. The first attack came from a large-caliber, belt-fed automatic machine gun that spit rubber bullets. The sound of the gun followed by the ping of the projectiles hitting the armor was more than unnerving. Dean had been afraid quite often since his induction, but that fear had been more of a nagging dread. What if he failed? What if he couldn't keep up with the other recruits? What if he were thrown out of EsDef because he wasn't good enough? Under the onslaught of bullets pounding on his armor, he felt real, panic-inducing fear. The rubber bullets smashed into his armor like the strike of a hammer. The impact dampeners kept the bullets from actually hurting Dean, but he felt each and every strike.

  Even though he told himself it was just a training exercise - that the bullets couldn't hurt him even if they tore his armor to pieces, they wouldn't actually kill anyone - and even though, despite the fact that he had read all there was to know about how tough the Heavy Armor was, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that at any moment one of the bullets would smash through the hydrogen-titanium alloy and turn his brain to jelly.

  The squad endured the first attack, and then the sergeant called them back. There were shouts, curses, and even laughter from the other troops. Dean kept everything he felt locked deep inside him. He was afraid, but he didn't want the others to know it.

  "Enough chatter!" Sergeant Browne said. "I don't want any unnecessary talk during these drills. Save the comms for orders from your superiors. Maintain your discipline in the face of fire. There's more coming, so be ready for anything. You are the front line, the strength of Recon Platoon. Show 'em what you're made of!"

  The other troopers shouted and Dean felt a sense of pride welling up inside him. He wanted to be on the line with the other troopers, to stand tough against an attack. To go toe to toe with whatever enemies presented themselves to the colonies.

  "Port, Pincer, Concave, Eye, Neutral!" the sergeant barked.

  It was the formation command. Each word was called out to inform each specialty what was expected. The Force Recon platoons had to know each of the formation signals. The third word was for the Heavy Armor troopers. Concave was a slightly curved formation that circled back toward the lieutenant. Dean dashed off with the other soldiers, falling into position. Their shield armor didn't overlap in the curved formations, but lined up edge to edge. Dean was barely into position, sweat dripping down his face that he couldn't wipe away because of the battle helmet, his heart thundering in his chest, when a powerful spray of water hit his shield. The impact was severe, sudden, and intense. The bullets of the first attack had hit the armor and bounced away, but the water attack was co
nstant. Dean staggered.

  "Blaze! Hold that position!" Browne's voice crackled over the helmet's internal speaker.

  To Dean it felt like a car had been dropped on his back. He knew if the armor wasn't compensating he would have been sent tumbling like a leaf in a hurricane. He strained to stay in place, his back bowing, his head slowly being pushed toward his knees. He wanted to scream. It didn't seem fair, and he had no idea how to compensate for the blast. Droplets were falling all around him and as he turned his head he saw the other troopers watching him. He couldn't really see their faces, the glare of the sun on the tinted visors hid their looks, but he imagined they were staring at him with disgust.

  Then, after what seemed like a long onslaught from the water canon, the spray moved to the next trooper. There were grunts and growls as each man struggled with the pressure of the water, but they held their formation. The water came back to Dean, and he was ready for it the second time. Perhaps it was knowing what was coming, or that he had finally had the time to set his feet properly, but he managed the attack much more efficiently the second time.

  Hot breath and body heat radiated up and tried to fog his visor while the built in anti-fog system worked hard to keep it at bay, but the heat inside his armor was intense. Unlike the fully functional battle armor that each of the Heavy Armor troopers received once they completed the specialty school, the training armor had no internal temperature sensors, or control features. Dean felt like he was melting away in the Southern California sunshine.

  "Retreat!" Sergeant Browne barked over their comm system.

  Dean and the other troopers stood up and jogged back to the prep area. Visors were raised and everyone drank from a large round cooler using little paper cups. The fruit punch that Dean had come to rely on was just water with amino acids, electrolytes, and natural caffeine enzymes for energy and focus. Dean drained his cup, and then they were sent back out for another assault.

  "Eagle, Stinger, Strong, Chevron, Pistol, Hot!"

  They dashed forward again, this time forming a V-shaped line. The attack was actual flames. Someone was using a flame thrower, which spewed oily, orange fire over the troopers. Their shields held the fire back, although some licked through the gaps between the armored plates, and shot above their heads. The attack wasn't nearly as forceful, but it was even more terrifying. Dean, along with every other trooper, could feel the awful heat. Their armor protected them from being burned, but not from feeling the searing heat. It was hard to breathe, the air seemed too hot in their lungs, and black smoke was billowing around them.

  The trainee next to Dean screamed and started to flee but Dean grabbed him. The trainee was bigger than Dean, but with adrenaline coursing through his body the ensign tugged the man back down.

  "Hold on!" Dean shouted. "Hold formation!"

  He saw every one of the troopers looking at him, and in the split second before his line of sight was compromised by flames shooting against his armor and surrounding him with smoke, he realized they weren't judging him, they were looking to him for guidance.

  "We stand firm!" he shouted. "Nothing moves us!"

  The other troopers shouted in agreement and then the flame thrower was joined by more rubber bullets, but the formation held. A concussion grenade hit Dean's armor and nearly knocked him over, but the man on either side held him. His helmet had saved his hearing by cutting out all sound, but Dean felt the impact as if he'd been kicked by a mule in the middle of his back. An onslaught of more flames, bullets, and concussion grenades made him feel as if he were living his worst nightmare. It was more intense than any movie he'd seen, the fear was tangible, and yet the trainees held their ground.

  When the attack finally ended, Sergeant Browne called them back.

  "Nice work, trainees!" he said in his gruff, drill sergeant voice. "But they aren't finished yet. Whatever you do, don't fail this last test. If you do, those monsters won't hold back. Ensign Blaze!"

  "Yes sir, Sergeant!" Dean said in a loud voice.

  "Call for formation. Your choice."

  "Yes sir! Platoon, static formation!"

  The team ran out together, locking their shields and preparing for the worst. Lowered into a kneeling position with their backs to the enemy was such a strange position to be in. It felt like they were taking a break, not preparing for an attack. Dean felt the skin on his back crawling with pins and needles. Unlike the previous attacks, this time their battle helmets flashed to life, showing the firing reticle from the guns they didn't have.

  Dean's bowels seemed to turn to water as the first of the attackers howled. The hair on his arms stood up, and his blood seemed to turn to ice despite the heat. Then more screamed, they were huge warriors, jumping over their weapons positions and charging toward the squad. They wore pants and boots, but no shirts. They each carried what looked like short-handled sledge hammers, and their muscles bulged from weeks of training and growth hormones.

  The attacker in the lead ran straight toward Dean, who braced his body for impact. The man threw his shoulder straight into the shield on Dean's back. The system compensated, and somehow Dean held fast. His nerves were on edge, and the attacker seemed insane. He slammed his big, muscle-bound body against the barricade over and over, smashing his hammer into the hydrogen-titanium alloy in a rage. Soon there was an attacker pounding against every trainee's shield, but the line held. Dean was glad he'd called for a static formation. The overlapping shields increased the strength of each individual trooper.

  The screams and curses of their attackers were horrible, and mentally the attack was as terrible as the others. In some ways it seemed even more intense since Dean could see his attacker, but Dean did his best to block it all out. All he thought about was standing fast. After a few minutes the attackers tired, their screams were less horrifying, their blows not quite as powerful or as fast. Suddenly Sergeant Browne's voice broke through the cacophony of noise from the attackers.

  "Squad advance," he said. "Hold that line and move those attackers back toward their positions."

  Dean and the others got to their feet, which made their line seem shaky. The attackers increased the intensity of their attacks, but the line held. Slowly they forced the attackers back. The trainees took small steps, looking from side to side to ensure that everyone was together. Dean felt a sense of pride growing inside him with each step. He saw his own attacker hammer at his shield, pounding on it so hard the blows would have shattered bones if not for the armor. And while he could feel each blow, they did no harm. The part of his mind that expected each concussion to rock him, and even injure him, was learning that with the heavy armor he could endure. It wasn't a mental disconnect, but more of a learned understanding of what he could withstand in the armor.

  When the session ended, the trainees cheered. Dean pulled off his helmet and let the cool breeze from the ocean wash over him. He had endured and the feeling was phenomenal. He couldn't wait for the next training session to begin.

  Chapter 14

  The next day Dean drilled marching formations. The Heavy Armor units had to move just as quickly as the other members of their platoons, but with twice the weight load. A big part of the Heavy Armor training was strength and conditioning, since most Force Recon platoons spent a majority of their time on missions moving through alien worlds or exploring complex space stations. Learning to move with the rest of the platoon was necessary and there were two basic formations for troops on the march.

  Endcaps was the code name that sent three Heavy Armor troops to the front of the platoon column, and three to the rear. Most platoons had two Fast Strike Operators, a Sniper, a Close Combat Specialist, the lieutenant, and two demolitions experts. A second formation, codenamed Compass, moved one of the Heavy Armor specialists to the lieutenant's right side and one to his left, leaving two at the front of the column and two at the rear.

  They marched in their training armor all day, moving in different formations, breaking into fighting configurations whenever their trai
ning officer called out. Dean felt as though he were marching inside an oven. His battle helmet was hot, his armor even hotter. Overnight his thick hydrogen-titanium metal armor had been fitted with a hydration bladder. A gallon of the EsDef fruit punch, which the trainees called nectar, was filled in the silicone pouch which sat between Dean's chest and the plate of armor. It was fed through a tube that came up into his helmet and along the side of his face. It took a little practice for Dean to move his lips over to the tube and siphon out a drink, but he was grateful for the upgrade as he marched through a blisteringly hot day.

  At night he spent time in a rejuvenation pod. It looked like a giant egg, and once inside, it used high pressure massage to ensure that no lactic acid built up in his aching muscles. It also used infrared light to help flush out toxins. The pod could actually make chiropractic adjustments if it sensed the need, apply medicines if necessary, and utilize a steam spray to keep the occupant's skin healthy.

  Dean was thrilled when, on the third day, he was taken out of the field and trained on the Heavy Armor utility cannon. The shoulder-mounted weapon could be manually aimed or computer operated, which was especially helpful against fast-moving, swarming targets. The utility cannon was exactly that, a short-range, belt-fed flechette weapon with various capabilities, all controlled with the Heavy Armor battle helmet. The cannon could fire at an incredibly high rate, on full auto it sprayed twenty flechette rounds per second. Three ammunition loads were common in Heavy Armor, all of which could be cycled using the battle helmet. The most common were ballistic flechettes, with a range of two hundred feet. There were also shotgun flechettes, which had an effective range of about fifty feet, but with a wide spread pattern. And finally, concussion grenades, which were small explosive projectiles that were designed to knock big targets off their feet. They weren't as useful against armor, but most of the extraterrestrial creatures Force Recon dealt with didn't use armor, although many had a much greater mass than even the Heavy Armor Specialists.