At least he’d had some experience with one training session as a recruit, two as a Raider, and then the mission at the asteroid. This was going to be Randigold’s first mission in a micro-G environment. All the sims in the world couldn’t prepare someone for that moment when they left the safe confines of their ship.
“I’ll kick ass,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. It isn’t natural, not by a long shot.”
“No, you don’t have to like it, true. Right, Sergeant S?”
Sergeant Tesler Sign of Respect, Perseus Union Marine Corps, just nodded. The sergeant was a native of Rebirth, the smallest of the Union’s charter members. But that made him a regular Marine, not a provincial. He was a member of Third Platoon, so not in Rev’s chain of command, but as the senior IBHU Marines in the company, Rev had tried to get to know him better—without much luck so far. It wasn’t that the sergeant had shown any of the lack of respect provincials had grown to expect from the charter citizens. It was just that he was about the quietest, most private person Rev had ever encountered. Average height, average weight, average looks, he was the kind of person who could be standing right in front of you and never be noticed.
Sign of Respect didn’t seem, at first blush, to be Marine material, but he’d made it through boot camp and earned the title, eventually making it to sergeant. Also, Rev didn’t think the Marines would have selected him for the IBHU program unless he’d proven himself in battle.
“OK, you’re done, Ether. Rev, you’re next,” Daryll said.
“Why don’t we do this in one of the domes? They can turn off the gravity, and then, if something happens, we at least aren’t sucking vacuum.”
Rev would be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Field training on Enceladus came at a premium since it was a moon without a real atmosphere. The Guard made heavy use of simulators, but for actual, on-planet training, there were three large domed areas. Normally, the diamagnetic fields created varying degrees of pseudo gravity, but the fields could be left off to create a microgravity environment or reversed to counteract the moon’s tiny gravitational force to create a null-G environment.
“If there’s no danger, then it really isn’t realistic, now, right?” Rev asked.
“The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat,” Sergeant Sign of Respect said.
Rev looked at the sergeant in surprise. That had to be the most Rev had heard the NCO volunteer to say. “Yeah, what Sergeant S said.”
“But you’re implying that in order to get realistic combat training, you have to have live rounds being fired at you,” Randigold said. “I don’t need to have you shoot real rounds at me for me to know I don’t want to get hit.”
“She’s got a good point, Tesler,” Daryll said while looking to see if the sergeant would respond.
More in line with his character, Sign of Respect didn’t respond.
“Where do I get one of those harness things?” Randigold asked.
The “harness things” were small propulsion packs that would counteract the moon’s tiny gravitational pull so they could simulate weightlessness. A tiny AI would monitor the trooper’s attitude toward the ground, then fire ground-facing mini-pulses to keep the trooper suspended above it.
Diamagnetic fields used a lot of power and were expensive to install, so most of the surface training ranges were in their natural state. The suspension harnesses were a much cheaper option.
“At the range. Just put them on and then forget they are even there,” Daryll said. “And if you can quit with your never-ending questions, Ether, let me get the staff sergeant here in his Oscar so you can get the hell out of here and leave me alone.”
“I’m beginning to think you don’t love me, Daryll.”
“I love you madly, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a royal pain in the ass.”
Sign of Respect actually cracked half a smile at the repartee between the two.
Watch out, Sergeant S, or people will think you’re actually human.
“Besides, I’ve still got six more Oscars to modify before all of you are kitted out,” Daryll said. “So, Rev, can we?”
Rev stepped up to the platform as Daryll brought up his Oscar. As with the Pashu, Rev’s Oscar had been the first EVA suit modified to handle an IBHU. He just hoped that unlike with Pashu, there would be no teething pains with his vacuum combat suit, because in just under an hour, the three of them would be boarding a surface hopper for an hour ride to the training range.
An hour was a long way from safety if his Oscar decided to spring a leak.
* * *
“It’s a series of movements, twisting and then pulling yourself after,” the Hégémonie sailor said. “Think of how a cat always lands on its feet. It never changes the direction of its fall, but it can change its orientation so that it lands on its feet. And like that cat, if you are in zero-G, you can’t change your angular momentum, but you can change your body’s orientation. And that’s what we’re going to be working on this morning.”
“That’s why we have thrusters,” Sergeant Refever Lines said on the First Squad net.
“Shut up and listen, Lines,” Sergeant First Class Gamay said.
Rev and the rest of First Platoon were standing on the bleachers, the gecko pads on the bottoms of their boots keeping them in place. This was their first class for their two-day training period. Some of the others bitched that they didn’t need null and microgravity training, but Rev was glad they were having it. Despite the mission on the asteroid, Rev wasn’t confident in his abilities in such an environment, so the more experience he could put under his belt, the better.
The instructor was floating two meters above the ground—floating wasn’t the right word. Her suspension harness was constantly adjusting with tiny impulses so that her acceleration exactly matched Enceladus’ 0.1 m/s2 gravity.
She held her arms in close to her chest, twisted her body, then extended her arms. With a hard swing to the left, her body twisted to the right. She brought her arms in again and repeated the process, turning her body even more. A few more times and she had rotated in a 360 and was facing the platoon again.
The Heg sailor then ran her hands close to her body until the arms were extended on her thighs, palms facing front. She rotated her arms at the shoulder, keeping the arms extended, sweeping them up past her head. This caused her to tumble forward as if doing a somersault. Several more times, and she had completed an entire forward roll.
“These are just two of the standard maneuvers. We’ve got eighteen official maneuvers, but you’ll find that with practice, you can adjust these to fit your own needs.”
And how does Pashu fit into all of this? I can’t really do the same thing with her as someone with two organic arms.
“It’s all a matter of proprioception and knowing what to do to change your orientation. But you’ve grown up all your life with gravity, so now you need to train your proprioceptive sense so that you know exactly where you are in weightlessness and what you have to do.”
“Proprioception?”
“What? Put that so I can understand it.”
When Punch put it that way, it made sense, and he began to understand what he needed to do to maneuver in weightlessness.
“So, now, if you can split into squads,” the sailor said. “First, in a school circle to my left. Second, here in the middle, and Third to my right. Let’s do it.”
Rev turned off the geckos on the soles of his boots and cautiously stepped down off of the bleachers. It was more like floating down. Enceladus might have only microgravity, but it was still gravity, and it took him back to the ground—eventually. Kick off too hard, and he’d be floating too long, an object of ridicule by those more experienced
. A couple of his squadmates—Gingham and Akkeke, for example—moved quickly to their spot, just skimming above the surface. Others, like Lines, were being as cautious as Rev was.
This would be so much easier with the Oscars’ thrusters, but, of course, they were forbidden for the exercise. The instructor had reminded them that the maneuvers they’d practice today were the same ones they could use to orient themselves while using their thrusters. Rev wasn’t sure why he’d resort to them if he was under power, but regardless, he didn’t understand why they couldn’t use them now, if only to get to the right spot.
Eventually, they were in their correct positions in a large circle around two instructors. “First Squad, Channel Twenty-two,” one of them said.
Rev switched over.
“Everybody here? Give me a thumbs-up.”
Rev was careful not to raise his arm but just popped up a thumb. Lines must have forgotten the demo they’d just received. He raised up his entire arm, and that started him in a slow tumble. The instructors waited until he managed to get his feet under him and stood straight again.
“First Squad, I am Sergeant Horenz, and with me is Corporal Cathcart.” Neither one moved, so Rev didn’t know which one was which. “This is what we’re going to do now. On my command, you are to make a tiny—I repeat, tiny—jump until you are a meter or two above the surface. At that moment, activate your suspension harnesses. Do it now.”
Rev gave the tiniest flex of his toes that he could . . . and barely left the surface. He tried again, this time harder. He still didn’t make it much more than half a meter.
Well, she said tiny.
Once more, he kicked off, this time rising about a meter. Just as he started to fall back, he activated his suspension harness. There was a very slight feeling as if he was being held up by a mesh net of some kind, but for the most part, it did feel as if he was weightless.
“Orient on me,” Sergeant Horenz ordered the squad.
When Rev had jumped, he’d kicked off-kilter, probably because of Pashu’s mass, which even at the moon’s minuscule gravity, was significant enough to be noticed. He tried to swing back like the Heg sailor had done, but his IBHU wasn’t cooperating. In the end, he just used his right arm.
He wasn’t the only one. At least half of the squad had to adjust their positions. Lines was the last to be in place.
“So, listen up. We’ll be going over ten different maneuvers this morning. The sooner you nail them, the sooner we can move on. The ten we will be doing are enough for basic orientation in space. They are not new. Each of these is basically unchanged since the early days of space exploration. To be exact, they are described in a US Air Force bioastronautics report from 1962, so this is old-school. But as they’ve lasted this long, they must be doing the trick.
“First on deck, the Cat Reflex. Corporal Cathcart will demonstrate.”
The instructor to Rev’s right twisted their body to their right, raised their arms out to the horizontal, then snapped them down while twisting to the left. It was something like what the Heg sailor had done, and it served the same purpose. The instructor rotated about thirty or forty degrees.
“Now, I want all of you to keep at it until Corporal Cathcart or I tell you to stop.”
Rev attempted to replicate the motion. But when he lifted his arms, his body rotated slightly to the left. Then when he snapped them down, his body rotated to the right, bringing him almost back to where he started. He tried several more times, gaining a little ground, but not much.
He stopped in frustration, looking for one of the two instructors. The corporal was tapping Akkeke on the shoulder, telling him to stop. Rev hadn’t gotten to know the Alliance soldier very well yet, but it was obvious that this wasn’t his first rodeo.
At least, I hope that is it. What if this is his first real training in null G ops, and I’m just the oaf who can’t get it done? He had a flashback of trying to teach Pierson infantry basics, and the guy just not getting them. Oh, good god, what if I’m the squad’s Pierson?
He looked across the training area to Second Squad and Kvat. At least he looked to be having problems as well. It wasn’t really schadenfreude. He didn’t take pleasure just because it was the MDS karnan, but if anyone was going to have problems, Rev would rather have it be him.
The corporal moved over to Rev. Using the laser comms for a direct person-to-person conversation, he said, “Let me see you try it, Staff Sergeant.”
Rev did his best, but at most, he gained about ten degrees of rotation. The instructor reached out and grabbed Pashu. Rev had to hold back the urge to snap his IBHU out of the corporal’s grip.
“How flexible is the elbow joint? Show me.”
Rev moved his arm up and down, all the time the corporal hanging on.
“OK, here’s what I want you to do. Bring the arm up along the front of your body, then extend it at shoulder level. I’m going to try to guide it. Ready?”
Rev nodded, then attempted to do as he was told. He could feel the corporal exert force, which meant he was using his thrusters.
“OK, you can stop, Staff Sergeant. We were told this might be a problem.”
“You were told I’d be a problem?” Rev asked, his warrior bristling.
“Yes. You IBHU Marines. You just don’t have the flexibility with your weapons. Not like a human arm. So, it looks like we’re gonna have to figure out what works best for you. Between you and me, all this ‘going back to 1962’ is just trying to show we’re all from old Earth, and the forms they teach are like some of the sacrosanct stylized martial arts training. What really matters is if you can function in Zero G. And I know you’re all thinking it’s not like you’re going to be without your thrusters.”
“Then why are we doing this?” Rev asked, surprised at the corporal’s frankness.
“You can use your thrusters, but if some pirate pops out of a compartment behind you, do you want to wait for the thrusters to bring you around so you can fire? Or do you want to know how to move your body so that you can bring that IBHU to bear?”
The corporal let go of Rev’s arm, and with a move that would make a circus acrobat proud, twisted his body until he was head down, but his arm was pointing back across to the other side of the circle. He held that position for a moment, then, with a paucity of motion, somehow twisted back so that he was facing Rev again.
Rev wished that Punch could record what he was seeing. He’d love to be able to analyze what the corporal had just done. And the instructor had made his point. None of the training and experience he had gained to fight Centaurs carried through to fighting in space. Thrusters or not, being able to orient himself quickly, or more to the point, orient Pashu quickly, could be the difference between life and death.
“You aren’t gonna have too many problems with some of the maneuvers, like the lasso, but others, well, we’ll just have to develop what works for you. So, for now, go ahead and stop the Cat Reflex. We may have to run your movement capabilities through one of the AIs to find some good maneuvers that you can use. Can’t let the pit bulls show up the Marines, you know.”
“Excuse me?”
“The pit bulls, Staff Sergeant. You know, the karnans.”
“Yes, I know what a pit bull is. But show up the Marines?”
“Ah, shit, Staff Sergeant. I get so used to not relying on telling people our services. I’m a Union Marine, too. Thirty-ninth Marines. And I’m proud as hell of you guys. You IBHU Marines.”
Which explained the not letting the pit bull show up the Marines statement. The corporal might be regular Marines and Rev a provincial, but interservice rivalry would make the corporal try to make sure Rev and the other IBHU Marines outdo the MDS karnans.
Rev had more than enough of the competitive edge himself, but after the corporal’s little demonstration, being a better fighter outweighed whether he was better than a karnan or not. But he was willing to use the corporal’s loyalty to the Union if that would benefit him as a null G warrior.
&
nbsp; “So, if I want extra instruction, like the thing you mentioned with the AIs, you’re willing to help?”
“Fuck yeah! Sorry, I mean, yes, Staff Sergeant. I’d be happy to. Any time.”
“How about this evening? After we bivvy?”
“Uh, sure. Happy to,” the corporal said, not sounding quite as enthusiastic.
Rev didn’t know if the instructor staff would be in the field with them, and if not, he was keeping the corporal from going back in the rear. But the other Marine had offered, and from the way he moved about so easily, he obviously knew his stuff. Rev would be foolish to turn down the opportunity.
* * *
After only one day, Rev felt far more comfortable in Null G, even simulated Null G, than he had after a week on the asteroid. Corporal Cathcart had stayed in the field. While the rest of the platoon was inside their small bivvy-capsules, able to get out of their Oscars to sleep, Rev and the corporal had spent another four hours experimenting with maneuvers that took into account, even complimented, Pashu. The single-arm lasso, for example, worked much better when using his IBHU than his organic arm.
Rev didn’t know how much good that would do him. The lasso consisted of raising one arm, then spinning the hand in a continuous circle. It spun Rev about quickly, but as Pashu was his weapon, using her would mean he was pointing the cannon and 20mm straight up, not at the ready. But it was good to know she could be used to help his maneuver, and the corporal had promised to set up extra training, not only for Rev, but for Randigold and Sign of Respect.
Second Platoon was starting their orientation training today, so Cathcart said he’d focus on Randigold to build upon what he’d learned with Rev.
Rev had asked how the corporal had gotten good enough so as to be assigned to the Home Guard as an instructor where most of the other Null G were Hégémonie or Mezame Concordate. The Union Marines had fought the Centaurs only on the ground, and while each infantry battalion had an anti-piracy company, at least on paper, the reality was that their null-G training was intermittent at best, non-existent at worst.
An Uneasy Alliance: Book 4 of the Sentenced to War Series Page 8