The tech was in his element. He’d started as low-man on the IBHU totem pole, but he was the only one in the field who’d been with the project since day one. He took a lot of pride in the system, and here he had a captive and eager audience.
Pashu was vitally important to Rev as a Marine, but for Daryll, she and the rest of the IBHUs were his children. And now they had a chance to shine, like kids at a recital. This was Union tech on display.
He stepped back, and the range officer took his place. “Just to reiterate. Keep on the targets. Don’t just pray and spray. We don’t want the structure to absorb more damage than it has to.
Rev nodded, but he wondered what the officer thought an IBHU could do to the range. Carved out of solid rock, it was a 900-meter-by-300-meter cavern 150 meters underground. A Marine Davis tank couldn’t blast its way out in ten years.
“Well, if you’re ready, let’s get this show on the road,” the officer said, nodding at a civilian tech on a suite of various scanners to the side of the firing line.
“If we ever wanted to keep the specs a secret, that tech there’s gonna get pretty much all the data there is,” the lieutenant said, barely above a whisper, but Rev, with his augmented hearing, had no problem picking it up.
“Well, we knew it was going to happen, sir. They still don’t know the process, though.”
“Who will be firing first?” the range officer asked.
They hadn’t even discussed that. Rev looked at the lieutenant and asked, “Do you want honors, sir?”
“You’re IBHU-1, and I think they probably want to see the braid more than the fan. I think the honor is yours.”
For lack of something better, Rev and the lieutenant had decided to call their original cannon the “braid” and the new shipboard cannon the “fan.” They knew the names weren’t very original, but they served the purpose.
“That’s me, then,” Rev told the officer.
“So, we have your energy cannon first, right? Three stationary, three moving. Missiles next, followed by the twenty-millimeter kinetic cannon.”
“That’s what you wanted,” Lieutenant Macek said. “And we aim to please.”
The range officer didn’t crack a smile, but Rev did. “We aim to kill,” he said in a whisper. “Not to please.”
“Well, then. Let me step away, and Sergeant Rowdy will call you hot.” The range officer hurried off to the side and fifteen meters behind the line to where he climbed into what looked like a simple fighting hole. Once in, he pulled a dome, which looked like it was made of the same material that protected all the observers, over his head.
Sergeant First Class Rowdy, sitting in a small but robust-looking range control shack, said, “If the first shooter will approach the line.”
Rev stepped up to his firing position. Every indicator shone a steady green.
“Your first target will appear momentarily. Do not fire until given the command.”
Kinetic weapons were fired at physical targets. Energy weapons had virtual targets. But these were a step up from the virtual targets Rev and Malaika had fired at during their trip to the free range on Nguyen. The range was lined with sensors that measured every aspect of a beam weapon’s pulse, and those went into a massive AI that compared the pulse with the characteristics of the simulated target.
Rev was eager to see how well they mimicked real life. He didn’t even know what his target would be. For a moment, he wished it would be MDS armor of some sort, but he knew that wouldn’t be politically feasible. So, he wasn’t surprised when a paladin suddenly appeared.
“Shooter, you may commence fire at will.”
Like an Old-Earth gunfighter of America’s west, Rev swung Pashu up and fired. The braided meson beams flashed across the range and struck the paladin, which immediately went up in a ball of flame. Rev could almost imagine the heat and shock washing back over him.
“Damn!” Either he’d gotten lucky with a vital hit, or the AIs were programmed to be generous. Rev had killed paladins in real life, but without such an impressive eye-candy result.
He had two more stationary targets, and they exploded with the same extreme intensity. Instead of exciting Rev, however, it was a letdown. The over-the-top results made the entire thing more of a video game like he played as a kid.
“Moving target to commence in ten seconds,” the range NCOIC announced.
Rev took a quick glance behind the firing line. Over a hundred sets of eyes were locked on him, but he couldn’t read much into them. A few were smiling, a few were frowning, and the rest were somewhere in between the two extremes.
His first target, another paladin, started rushing across the range. He barely thought about it as he raised Pashu and fired. As before, the target went up spectacularly. He thought this was beyond certification and more for show.
Two more targets, two more spectacular kills. Rev was happy to step back and let the lieutenant come forward to fire the fan and the Morays.
The fan would fire at the same type of virtual targets but at a much closer range. But at least kinetic rounds fired on real targets. Six by four by three-meter blocks of woven carbon steel armor over cerrocrete would traverse the range upon rails. There wouldn’t be the exaggerated special effects of the virtual targets, and Rev was fine with that.
Rev retreated off the line as the lieutenant took his position. First up was the fan cannon. Due to the nature of the beam, he didn’t expect as much show with the kills. And he was right. As the targets were virtual, they could have been programmed for something just as spectacular, but each of the kills was a mere flash.
Rev stole a look at the observers. After the first shot, most had lost interest and were in conversation with each other while the lieutenant gave the instruments what they needed to certify the fan for range use.
Then it was time for the six missiles the lieutenant was carrying. As with the braided and fan cannons, two would be fired at stationary targets while the instruments would scan across every possible spectrum. Morays had been certified before, and as the IBHU was just a launcher, Rev didn’t know why they had to go through the process—or for the 20mm cannon, for that matter. All those people watching from behind the barrier were probably the reason. The general and the rest were interested in what the Union had come up with.
Rev didn’t even watch the lieutenant fire—this was child’s play. He was more interested in seeing the reactions of the observers, particularly from his platoon and squad. And it was hard to tell. Staff Sergeant Kvat had a half sneer on his face, but his eyes were locked on the demonstration. Ting-a-ling had his head together with another Frisian—from the lieutenant’s platoon, Rev thought he remembered. Ting was speaking and pointing out something. Another trooper Rev didn’t recognize was overtly listening in. As for the rest, it was a mix with some intensely watching, such as Sergeant First Class Gamay, some seemingly lackadaisical, and a few who, while Rev couldn’t say they were antagonistic, were at least on that side of the spectrum.
Soon enough, the lieutenant was done. He turned around, and with a sly smile, asked Rev, “They want a show. You want to give them one?” He pointed at the 20mm cannon.
“Good idea, sir.”
Rev joined him on the firing line waiting for the command to fire. It was obvious that the range NCOIC didn’t know what to do. Rev could see him talking, and when he swung around to the range officer, that man was replying.
“I think we’re giving the range NCOIC a heart attack, sir.”
“That’s on him. Not us.”
Evidently, the officer gave the SFC the green light because a moment later, he said, “Prepare to fire on my command.”
“Fire the whole belt, sir?”
Each of them had an abbreviated belt of fifty rounds. That would be good for six or seven normal bursts. Daryll would have a hissy-fit if they blasted through the belt. The max burst they were supposed to fire was twenty rounds. Rev didn’t think the lieutenant would go for it. A jammed round would be pretty emb
arrassing right now.
But he surprised Rev. “Fifty rounds, and both of us on the center target. Five rounds per second.”
Rev’s smile grew wide. “You’ve got it, sir!” He adjusted the rate of fire and waited for the command.
“Shooters, you may commence fire.”
As one, they raised their IBHUs and blasted away. Rev shouted with glee as the rounds slammed into the target, sending dust and debris billowing off of it. Ten seconds might not seem like a long time, but it stretched out as the din echoed off the far walls.
The belts ran out at the same time, and Rev lowered Pashu to see the damage. The targets were constructed to absorb a lot of abuse, but as the dust cleared, it was clear that it wasn’t made to take what the two Marines had unleashed on it. Whole sections were simply gone, and the rest was riddled with holes.
“I think we killed it, sir.”
* * *
The range officer flipped open his dome and crawled out of his hole. He walked forward to join them, looking downrange.
“I guess that one gets scrapped,” he said.
“Sorry about that,” the lieutenant said.
“Don’t be. That was pretty impressive.”
And Rev knew it was. The same rounds could be fired from a Davis or a Falcon, and their rate of fire was higher than anything an IBHU could manage. But from a man-packed weapon, it was pretty righteous, as Daryll would say. And inside a range, even one as large as this, it seemed more impressive.
“So did we pass?” the lieutenant asked.
“Hell if I know. I just run the ranges. The data will be sent to facilities, and they’ll be the folks who make the decision. But I don’t see any problem. Nothing you have is new. Only your delivery method is unique. So, a week or so, you might have an answer.”
“A week?”
“That’s the Home Guard for you.”
The range officer looked past Rev and the lieutenant’s shoulders toward the observation area. “Looks like you’re getting company. And that’s my cue to make myself scarce.”
Both Marines spun around. Heading their way was a gaggle of senior officers and enlisted, led by the general himself. Not the two platoons who would be working with the two Marines. Looking past the incoming, Rev could see Lieutenant Veang and Master Sergeant Barber up against the glass, watching. He was sure they’d be coming, too, if they hadn’t been crowded out by more senior troopers.
But they’d have a lot more time in the coming years. Rev was sure that both of them would be trying to plumb the IBHU secrets before all was said and done.
“Impressive showing, Lieutenant,” General Ibsen said, right hand out to shake when with a laugh, he switched to the left so the lieutenant could use his organic hand. “I can see how you IBHU Marines became Centaur killers. Fine work, that.”
“Staff Sergeant Pelletier, here, General, he was the big Centaur killer. As a pilot, he’d be an ace.”
The general turned to Rev, shook his hand, and said, “Of course. Good, good.” He shifted back to the lieutenant and said, “If you don’t mind, I’ve got a few questions for you.”
Nice try, Lieutenant, pawning him off to me. But he wants those golden officer observations, not some enlisted puke’s who barely knows his right from his left.
Which was absolutely fine with Rev. If he could escape everyone’s attention, all the better. He gave the lieutenant a wink, then started to edge back, letting the brass crowd around him.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see an older trooper. He didn’t recognize the insignia, but the magenta collar tab, this one bounded with a silver border, told him that this man was the Sergeant Major of the Home Guard.
“I’m curious about a few things, and I’m hoping you can help me out.”
Rev managed not to roll his eyes, but only through an extreme effort.
“Of course, Sergeant Major. What can I answer for you?”
Beyond the sergeant major, other senior enlisted and officers were moving in as well.
I’ve got a feeling this is going to be a long afternoon.
10
“Randigold!”
The lance corporal looked up and caught Rev’s eyes, a huge smile breaking out across the half of her face that was still all organic. She made her way through the crowd, heedless of those she was smacking with the seabags on each shoulder. An officer in a uniform Rev didn’t recognize started to protest, but when he took in all the metal making up her body, he quickly looked away and moved off at an angle.
You little troublemaker. You know exactly how many people you’re hitting, Rev thought while trying to hold back a smile.
She reached him and stuck out an elbow, which Rev dutifully clinked with his social arm.
“Brothers in Steel,” they both said in unison.
“I didn’t know they’d send you to pick me up. I must be special if a staff-en-cee-oh is sent to be my tour guide,” she said, saying each letter in SNCO in an exaggerated staccato.
“First lesson, Randigold, is that here in the Guard, a staff sergeant ain’t crap. I don’t even get a squad.”
“In that case, what’s a lance corporal? Fly shit?”
“No, that’s a sergeant. Don’t know what a lance coolie would be. And they don’t call you guys lance corporal. Here, you’re PFCs.”
“Yeah, I know. Sucks that I just got my skeeter wings, and now people are going to be calling me PFC again.”
She turned her head to kiss her skeeter wings, the chevron and crossed rifles that was a Marine lance corporal’s rank insignia. “At least I’ll still draw lance corporal pay, not PFC.”
“More than that. You’ve got your Home Guard pay.”
“Yeah, I know. Sweet.”
Another familiar face stepped up behind Randigold.
Sergeant Tumeric Tsao nodded at Rev, then dropped her seabag. She reached out with her prosthetic arm and clinked with Rev. On her chest was only one ribbon; the light-sucking black background made the platinum bursting star in the middle of it look even brighter.
“I didn’t know you were coming in today,” Rev said, trying not to stare at the ribbon. He’d long accepted that his Platinum Nova was gone forever, and he rarely thought of it. But seeing the sergeant with hers did give him a tiny twinge of . . . not jealousy, but maybe regret.
Not directed at the sergeant. He’d read the citation, of course, and she earned her PN, but still . . .
“We’re the last of us,” the sergeant said. “Don’t know why we didn’t all come together. Would’ve made more sense, you’d think.”
“Welcome to the Ecelasucks. Get used to it.” He looked around the passenger pickup. “I didn’t see anyone else coming with me to meet you, though. No matter. Stick with me, and I’ll get you the E.”
“Oh, I’m not going there. I’m staying here on Titan,” she said.
“What? Here? You’re with First Brigade?”
As far as Rev knew, all of the IBHU Marines—and the MDS karnans, for that matter—were with either Second or Third Brigades. He didn’t know that any were being sent to First.
“Not the First Brigade. Headquarters Company.”
“The Praetorian Guard?” Rev asked, even more surprised.
Headquarters Company consisted of about two hundred troopers whose sole job seemed to be to stand around in elaborate uniforms and perform ceremonial functions. The troopers in Fox Company thought they were preening peacocks with little military value. They all looked good, and they could stand at attention for hours, but they hadn’t fought in combat since they were formed almost 240 years ago.
Tsao was a combat Marine, a proven warrior. All anyone had to do was look at her . . .
Oh, that’s what it is. Her Platinum Nova.
It made some degree of sense, from a political aspect, that is, to have at least one IBHU Marine on Titan where all the reps from the other nations could see an example of Union military might. And if they were going to send someone, then why not the one w
ith a PN?
Better you than me, sister.
And suddenly, not having the medal seemed like a benefit.
“Do you know where you’re going?” he asked her. Headquarters Company or not, Rev was still senior to her, and he couldn’t let her fend for herself. He needed to make sure she got to where she needed to be.
“There’s supposed to be a liaison desk right outside the entrance.”
“Well, let’s go see.”
Rev offered to take one of the seabags, but both Marines refused. The three made their way out of the mob and through the exit. The sergeant had been right. There was a military liaison desk where she gave her name. She was given a guide wand and told to report in to the Headquarters Company office.
“I guess this is it,” she said. “If you ever come over here to Titan, give me a shout. It would be good to see you guys.”
“She’s good people,” Randigold said as the sergeant walked off. “Too good to waste her time looking pretty for politics.”
Rev gave the lance corporal a sidelong glance. She gave off that “aw shucks” vibe, just a simple country girl trying to make her way out in the big bad world. But every once in a while, she let slip something that made Rev suspect that she was a lot deeper than her public persona.
As if feeling his gaze, she turned back to him. “So, Staff Sergeant, how bad is it?”
“Some things are good, some not so good. Like anywhere else. I’m still trying to feel my own way. One thing seems pretty certain, though. It is going to be an interesting three years.”
She nodded. “Like the old Chinese curse: ‘May you live in interesting times.’ I think you’re probably right. So, since you’re here to show me the way to our new home, I guess it’s time to go see what I’ll be facing.”
11
“I don’t like this,” Randigold said as Daryll attached Cruella, her IBHU.
“You’ve got the sims training,” Rev said. “You’ll do fine.
He wasn’t really looking forward to it, either, but he had to put up a good front for the lance corporal.
An Uneasy Alliance: Book 4 of the Sentenced to War Series Page 7