"It was a good idea, and yet no one has ever used the Heavy Armor the way you did. It took original thinking, which is in short supply these days, I can tell you. Have you done such a thing before?"
Dean spent the next three hours talking with Major Gheridelli about growing up in Michigan, his love of winter sports, studying history in school which had been one of Dean's favorite subjects. They talked about getting across the river in the mountains, and about the tactics Dean employed getting up to the plateau.
Alphonse was always encouraging, and reminded Dean of his favorite teachers in high school, the ones passionate about their subjects and who truly cared about their students. At the end of their session Alphonse transferred several books to Dean's tablet for reading on tactics and strategy off planet. Most were case studies of successful Recon missions, but some were purely theoretical in nature, especially in terms of warfare with one or more of the known space-faring species.
Afterward Dean went down to the officers’ mess for dinner and found out that his Heavy Armor training was over. He would be moving on to Fast Attack Specialty training on Monday, but once again he had weekend liberty, and after a quick meal, he left the base and went in search of Miranda.
Chapter 22
Dean's weekend was relaxing. He went to the movies, read books on the beach, and hung out with Miranda as much as possible. The two days passed much too quickly in Dean's estimation, but he was also looking forward to training with the Fast Attack Specialists, or FAS as they were commonly called. On Monday, Dean met with Staff Sergeant Ronald Smith, who was teaching an introductory class to a crop of fresh FAS recruits. The classroom session seemed a little anticlimactic at first. Dean wanted to be out using the equipment that made the Fast Attack Specialists one of the most interesting divisions in Force Recon. FAS got all the fun toys and Dean was anxious to get his hands on some.
"First of all," Staff Sergeant Smith said in a calm, slow cadence. "Forget what you've seen in the movies. Fast Attack is not a video game. We are the one-two punch in Force Recon, the fangs, if you will. We don't hide behind heavy armor, we take the fight to the enemy and we make them pay... dearly."
The lecture went on for nearly an hour, but it wasn't like a school lecture, it was more of a pep talk to get the new recruits excited about their specialty.
"Fast Attack training takes twice as long as every other specialty training here at Coronado, because we have to qualify you on the most advanced weaponry and autonomous recon gear ever designed. You will learn how to fire with precision no fewer than six different firearms. You will learn how to pilot mini drones with heavy weapon payloads. You will become an expert in micro drone deployment, intelligence, and defense. And this, ladies and gentlemen, will be your best friend through it all."
The sergeant placed a normal-looking battle helmet on the table. The wall behind him lit up to reveal a video screen with what looked like footage from inside a battle helmet.
"You will be expected to do more than any other specialty," the sergeant continued. "It is not unusual for a Fast Attack Specialist to have two drones in operation and be expected to fire his or her firearm at the same time."
Dean was anxious. He wanted to try out the equipment but he also felt like he was in over his head. After they spent an hour outlining each piece of equipment the Fast Attack trainees would be learning to use in combat, they went to a firing range where the staff sergeant showed them the typical weapon load FASs carried.
"You have your standard firearm," he held up a thick pistol. It was the same weapon that most of the HA trainees carried, but Dean knew little about them. "The Martin 3A defense pistol holds fifty flechette projectiles and is accurate up to seventy-five feet. They are gas propelled metal darts that will rip a human being to ribbons of raw, bloody meat in seconds. It shoots three-round bursts."
The sergeant turned his body toward the target down range and fired the pistol three times. Each squeeze of the trigger made the gun buck in his hands, but sounded dull, like someone drumming their fingers on a table. The paper target had three separate hits that tore quarter-sized holes near the dark bullseye.
"Next," the sergeant said, setting down the gun and picking up what looked like a pistol handle with a knife blade jutting out where the barrel should have been. There was another blade sticking out parallel to the first that protruded from the bottom of the handle. "This is a Korg Eviscerator. Notice the thickness of the blades. It has an effective range of twenty-five feet."
Sergeant Smith stepped on a pressure pad and a human-shaped wooden dummy popped up on the range. He fired the blades one after the other, both flipping through the air and striking the dummy so hard the wood shook and the blade sank into the tough target so that only the back half was visible.
The next weapon was a simple handheld laser. Not the kind found in science fiction movies, but a steady beam weapon that produced a focused laser that, if held on target for a few seconds, produced a burst of heat. The sergeant raised another target, this one metal, at about the same distance as the wooden dummy. He fired the laser and as Dean watched, the metal began to glow in about six seconds. Another six seconds and the laser had burned through the quarter-inch metal plate.
Then came the unmistakable wand attached to a pistol grip with a small tank at the end that fed gas into the weapon as well as serving as a stock. One trigger ignited a small flame at the end of the wand, and a second trigger expelled the gas accelerant. The gout of flame shot out nearly forty feet.
"The flame thrower," Sergeant Smith said with a grim smile. "Very effective at stopping animals. Even aliens fear fire, trainees. And rightly so. This weapon has enough accelerant to shoot flames for about three minutes before the canister needs to be replaced. There is a simple gauge here," he held up the weapon so that everyone could see the red needle reading just above the pistol grip, "so you always know how much is left in the tank.”
"Next is your standard utility rifle. This weapon carries a magazine with ninety slugs of various substances. Some are explosive, others are armor piercing, and some are good old hot lead."
Dean was itching to fire all the weapons. He wanted to try his hand at each one, and couldn't believe his luck that he wasn't stuck learning to fire just one weapon like the Heavy Armor trainees.
"Finally, we have a telescoping blow gun. This weapon is used for injecting other species with either tranquilizing drugs or bio-chips, such as GPS trackers. They are fired with your hands, like this."
He extended the shaft, which started at about a foot long and looked like a plain, black tube, but telescoped to three feet. He inserted a dart, then put his right palm against the back of the blow gun and shoved it forward. There was a hollow thoop sound and the dart shot out as the weapon telescoped in on itself.
"You will know these weapons backward and forward," Staff Sergeant Smith said. "You will be able to disassemble and reassemble them in complete darkness. You will be able to accurately hit targets with all six and you will be ready to use them in defense of humanity across forty-five colony worlds."
Dean wanted to cheer, but the other trainees looked doubtful. Dean understood their fears. They had a lot to learn and their training would not be easy. He guessed that in the long run, he'd rather endure the physical rigors of Heavy Armor than risk failing as an FAS.
After noon chow, they returned to the live fire range and tested their hand at each of the weapons. That night Dean lay on his little bunk reading the materials on Fast Attack ordinance. The specialists were walking munitions, with attack drones built right onto their armor. On their shoulders were short-range AAVs, Aerial Attack Vehicles, controlled via hand movements and the FAS battle helmets. The AAVs were essentially small bombers able to attack multiple targets at a range of five hundred feet from the user. Each one carried six highly concussive explosives, and could climb to an altitude of two hundred and fifty feet.
Fast Attack Specialists also carried motorized drones on their shine guards, twelve
mini surveillance vehicles, or MSVs, that carried an explosive charge equal to three concussion grenades. The tiny drones were about the size of an old-fashioned matchbox, with high-definition optical cameras and a battery life that would allow them to operate in the field for seventy-two hours without needing to be charged. The MSVs were perfect for scouting dangerous locations, as well as monitoring areas while the Force Recon platoon moved on.
In addition to the six weapons the Fast Attack Specialists carried, they also had mini grenade launchers built into their forearm armor. And even with all the ordinance built into their specialized armor, their total weight was only a quarter of that carried by HA specialists. Once they used the drones and weapons, there were major gaps in the hard exterior of their armor, but they still had Kevlar linings that would give them some protection in a fight. The Fast Attack trainees also trained for speed and stamina, running for miles every morning, and then training for coordination, including fine motor skills. Dean spent every morning going through the PT with the trainees, then learning the basics on all the systems.
When the weekend rolled around, Dean had been hoping to get away from the base again to see Miranda, but he limited his time off to Sunday, and spent all day Saturday training on the drone simulators. Before the trainees were allowed to operate actual hardware, they had to qualify on the simulators. It wasn't enough to be able to fly a drone, they had to be able to take into consideration differences in air pressure, gravity, and weather conditions. The AAVs had a very limited range, and their concussion bombs were not guided, so learning to fly the drones and hit targets on the move was extremely difficult.
By the end of his two weeks Dean knew everything about the FAS armor, weapons, and tactics. He wasn't as skilled at actually operating the drones, but he knew their capabilities and he understood their value in a combat situation.
That weekend Dean spent the night at Miranda’s apartment for the first time, and the next day, he had brunch with her parents. It was awkward, since he could share very little of his life in EsDef with the older couple who did not warm to Dean. It didn't help that he and Miranda had made love for the first time the night before, an experience that was fun but not without its awkwardness. Dean couldn't help but feel that Miranda's parents could see right through him, and he was beginning to wonder if his own feelings for the girl weren't getting too strong. He thought about her almost every day, sending her little notes whenever he had a few moments free.
For her part, Miranda was a hard worker in her family's stable of businesses. They owned several properties other than the apartment complex, and ran three retail stores besides. Miranda was slowly learning every job involved in the enterprise, starting at the bottom and working her way through management. Eventually her mother would teach her how to keep the books, and only then would her father allow her to run her own array of businesses. Dean was honestly envious of the way Miranda's family worked together and respected one another. If he had one complaint, it was that they only paid Miranda an hourly wage, depending on what jobs she was learning. Her father believed that it was important for her to understand not just the duties of each job, but to know the challenges of living on the wages of that job. She even paid rent for the apartment she lived in, although that money went into a savings account instead of showing up as income on the complex’s profit and loss statement.
Dean didn't mind paying for their dates, since he was earning a good wage and had essentially no expenses of his own. He even set up an investment account with half of his monthly salary, so that the funds grew while he was busy off world instead of sitting in a checking account he would only be able to use every once in a great while. But he didn't like that Miranda was forced to wait tables just to make ends meet and have a little spending money. He understood that most people their age were in college, racking up tons of debt in the hopes of being able to find a decent job when they graduated. By the time Miranda had gone through the learning process dictated by her father, she would be a well-qualified manager, perhaps even overseeing multiple businesses and earning a salary well above her peers. And she would have no debt to hold her down. It made sense, but Dean was beginning to feel the desire to do something for her, to support her so she didn't have to work so hard, and that, in his mind, was a major red flag.
He couldn't honestly expect her to wait for him while he went off world. The possibility that he might never come back was simply too great. And even if he did, it wouldn't be for years. He could afford to help Miranda, but he couldn't afford to fall in love with her. And even worse still, he didn't want her to fall in love with him. They were having fun and he didn't want it to end, but he knew a serious conversation was in their future. And even though he knew it had to be done, he was dreading it more than combat.
Chapter 23
The next week Dean began Sniper school. The Force Recon Snipers were highly trained marksmen, and experts with their Vandamere SE long rifle. It was a versatile weapon that fired a variety of projectiles. Basic sniper ammo was .50 caliber 750 grain lead bullet. The design was over a century old, but nothing had yet topped the aerodynamic shape of an old-fashioned, brass-encased lead bullet, fired with a massive load of top-of-the line propellant. But the Vandamere SE could also fire flechette bundles that were not unlike the shotgun cartridges fired by the HA specialists’ utility cannon, only the sniper version wasn't belt fed and had four times the range. They also shot gas capsules, small bullet-shaped glass projectiles made to shatter on impact and release their payload of chemical agents. Dealing with alien physiology, biological warfare didn't make sense, but there were tried and true chemical compounds that could be counted on in the field, such as sedatives and tracking chemicals.
The radioactive agent B13 was the perfect example of off world combat. The chemical had no odor or taste and was completely invisible, but once ingested could be monitored using thermal imaging to give Recon units an idea of how an alien species was most vulnerable. With B13, a long-range thermal drone could identify where the major organs of a creature were located, a particularly useful tactic when the alien species was especially large.
The ability to shoot accurately at distances over a mile away was an extremely high skill. The Snipers had range finders built into their battle helmets, along with telescoping video feeds that gave them the ability to see far into the distance. The SE long rifles still used scopes with heavy glass, but everything they needed to know about a shot was built into their battle helmets. Barometric pressure, wind speed, gravity level, and planetary rotation speed were factors in long distance shooting.
Dean spent a week just working with the rifle and the battle helmet capabilities. His second week of training dealt almost completely with stealth movement. The Snipers’ armor had mirroring capabilities that allowed it to blend into its surroundings, making it practically invisible, as well as hiding the wearer’s thermal output. They also had a jet pack which could be used to rapidly ascend a terrain feature that might give the Sniper a better overview of their platoon's operating theater. On descent, the jet pack could slow the Sniper's fall, so that jumping from tall positions without injury was possible. Dean spent a day learning to fly up onto a fifty-foot wooden tower, then turn around and jump off, using the pack's jets to slow his fall.
The jet pack's features were controlled by their battle helmet, like the features of every other specialty. The sniper rifle was heavy, and the trainees divided their time between long marches and weight training. Their armor was both defensive and stealthy, allowing the Snipers to be active in heavy fighting, but also essential for operations that required secrecy. Dean was surprised at just how exclusive the Snipers were. The high skill level required for their specialty, along with the ability to spend long periods of time lying in wait for their enemies, necessitated a more introverted personality.
Dean ended his rotation with the Snipers by going on a two-day field exercise where he crawled six miles while drones flew overhead using motion detectors, v
ideo, and thermal imagining to try and spot the Snipers. Dean made it all the way to the shooting position without being spotted, but missed his target by just a few centimeters. It was good enough to earn the respect of the Sniper instructors and trainees, but not good enough to join their ranks.
That same weekend Miranda started to tell Dean that she loved him. At least that's what Dean thought she was doing, and why he quickly came up with an excuse to get back to the base. He had to break things off, although he really didn't want to. But he knew he couldn't do what he needed to do as an EsDef officer if he was constantly in turmoil over being so far away from Miranda. The next day he met her at their favorite restaurant, a quiet bistro that specialized in gourmet pizzas.
"Hey you," she said when he arrived. "I hope everything is alright."
"It is, no big deal, just part of the package, right," he said, hoping that things might end on a positive note.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I mean I'm not really ever off duty. I can be called back at a moment’s notice. That's part of this life."
"I know that, Dean, but that isn't what you're saying."
"This is hard," he admitted.
"If you are leaving me, then you're going to have to say it. I know you haven't been here long enough to be deployed somewhere else already."
"No, I'm not being deployed yet. But I can't keep doing this."
"You can't keep doing what, exactly?"
"Miranda, I have feelings for you, strong feelings."
"So do I," she said.
"I know, and that's why I have to back off. I'm not deploying yet, but I'm going to in a few weeks. And once my training is complete I'll be sent off world for who knows how long."
We Are The Wolf: Wolfpack Book 1 Page 12