Though Traci had never met one, she had heard of the Zealot infiltration teams from the security briefs they held every six months. These men were notorious for their attacks on civilian transports but never this far from the planet. He didn’t appear to be carrying any firearms though he did have a short, savage looking blade attached to his right arm. It was serrated along its back edge and reminded her of something from a pirate adventure in books she had read as a child.
“He’s dead.” Wilkinson stood up and grabbed an emergency axe from the wall. “This bastard is mine!”
The axe was light and balanced for single hand use. As he swung the weapon the Zealot leapt to the side, parrying it with a single neat move and then counter slashed into Wilkinson. The technique was perfect and left a great wound from his thigh to his armpit. Wilkinson cried out in pain before collapsing near the Captain’s chair. It was then that Traci spotted the Captain’s body slumped in the chair. He had multiple wounds on his torso.
The man turned to Traci, a foul sneer forming on his lip.
“What is a woman doing working as crew on a commercial vessel? Do you not have a family to attend?” he said angrily.
“A family? What the fuck!” She cried out and then emptied the rest of the carbine’s ammunition into the man. Though they were obviously incapable of penetrating his armour they could certainly incapacitate anyone they struck in the face.
The shots were well aimed and the first struck him in the cheek causing a superficial but bloody wound. The subsequent rounds hammered around his head and shoulder but he managed to twist bringing his left arm up to absorb the impact. As the kinetic energy blasted him backwards she rushed in, the carbine held high and with the butt facing forward. As she moved ahead she heard screams coming from below, presumably the loading bay. She reached the wounded man who moved to get up from the floor. Her combat training kicked in and she didn’t give him the chance to get up as she slid down and slammed the carbine into his face. There was a sickening crunch as the weapon crushed his nose and sent blood spraying into her eyes. It wasn’t enough though and she struck again and again until he moved no more.
Traci rolled away from the bloody body of the man and looked back towards the badly injured Wilkinson who was still crying in pain from his wicked wound.
“Wilks, hey, Wilks!”
He was in too much pain to notice her shouts and continued to roll back and forth in pain. Traci moved along the slippery floor until she reached the hurt man. As she bent down to help she spotted two figures stood in the room staring at her. They were dressed the same as the first man but didn’t wear cloaks. Each carried the same vicious looking blades in their hands and both had seen their dead brethren in the corner of the room. Traci stood up, still holding the now damaged carbine and lifted it up, ready to fight.
The man to the left reached down to a pouch on his right leg and pulled out a heavily modified pistol of unknown manufacture. Like the rest of their equipment it had a blade fitted to the muzzle with ridges running along the barrel. Traci knew it was over and rather than wait she rushed. The men were taken by surprise and her speed truly was impressive. Her first three steps brought her almost within striking range before the man fired. The first bullet struck her in the shoulder and then more spread across her chest. She collapsed just in front of the men, blood pouring from her wounds. She tried to get up but it was no good, she was finished. As she slumped down she heard the intercom crackle, it was Jackson.
“I’m hurt, some guy just broke in and tried to space me. I need medical attention down here. Hurry, please hurry!”
Traci tried to speak and then the darkness crept over her eyes and her pain vanished.
* * *
They had just finished a gruelling three-hour mixed martial arts session and Spartan was exhausted. He stood in the shower, both hands hanging low as the water poured out and down his back. He’d not been expecting showers but the water reclamation and recycling system on the ship seemed pretty efficient, certainly better than no showers. Around him the rest of his platoon were doing the same. At first it had been odd, but after weeks of training he and the rest of the mixed unit were too tired to really care anymore. As far as he could see a line of naked men and woman simply used the opportunity to relax. As he washed away the sweat and grime he spotted the Hispanic woman he’d first met when leaving the station.
“Teresa,” he muttered to himself as he remembered her name.
After just a few seconds he went across the shower block, moving the odd person who always seemed to get in the way. As he approached he felt a pang of embarrassment as he saw her naked. Her skin was dark and the water ran down her making her body glisten. Her black hair seemed longer in the shower, it ran down to her shoulders and for some reason all Spartan could think about was that surely it was against regulations. He was about to speak when he noticed her looking at him.
“Spartan, you okay there?” she said with a smirk.
He stood for a moment, a little surprised before regaining his composure.
“Of course, what are you doing here? You’re not in this platoon, are you?”
“Haven’t you noticed you’re down a man? Apparently, somebody has been getting a bit physical in the close quarter combat classes and they needed somebody new, I’m a replacement for your platoon. I volunteered.” She smiled at him as he laughed.
“Ah, I see. Am I supposed to be flattered?”
Teresa turned back to the shower, letting the water run over her face for a little longer before turning back to him.
“Maybe.”
“Anyway, how is the training going? We have Harris, he’s got a major hard on for bayonets,” she asked as she brought the subject back to their training.
“Yeah, same for us, these guys do like their little knives! We’ve done some marksmanship with the training rifles and loads of physical training.”
Teresa came out from under the shower, moving a little closer to Spartan. “Physical training, huh?”
The buzzer on the wall indicated the end of their shower. The water cut abruptly with just warm steam spreading through the room.
“L48 Rifle training to start in eight minutes,” came the voice before the system went silent.
The recruits left the shower area, drying themselves and getting dressed. Teresa and Spartan stood at the end of the block. Teresa noticed some of the scarring running down Spartan’s back.
“God, what caused that?”
Spartan stopped and tried to work out where she was looking. “Which one?” he asked, finding it difficult to identify the exact injury.
Teresa reached out and ran her hand along a scar from his shoulder to his ribs. Her unexpected contact made him jump a little.
“Ah, yeah, that one. It was from one of my last fights before I volunteered.” He put extra special emphasis on the last word.
“What kind of weapon could have done it?” she asked, genuinely interested.
“You’d be surprised, it was a blunt mace fitted with dull studs. It wasn’t supposed to cut the flesh, that was supposed to be part of the deal but somebody, I don’t know who rigged the fight and replaced the stubs with small spikes.”
“Christ! How did you get out of that one?” she asked as she pulled on her top.
“Well, at first I didn’t. The wound was massive but the guy was cocky. He made the mistake of getting too close to check on his handiwork.”
“I take it you explained this to him?” She stood there grinning at him.
Spartan looked away and at the recruits leaving the room, he took in a deep breath, remembering the bloody fight and the injuries involved. It was strange, at the time he had hated every single minute of it, but now that he looked back to the events just months ago he almost missed the action.
“Something like that.”
* * *
It had taken over a month for the CCS Santa Maria to make her way around the storms that surrounded the planet Prometheus. Spartan had heard
the Marine Corps actively recruited from the gangs and captured criminals. In fact it was the only reason the ship made the dangerous journey, to collect the toughest and most violent men in the Proxima System. Apparently now they were in open space the vessel spent most of its time coasting so that training could begin. They could fire up the engines and be anywhere in the sector in no more than a few weeks but they had another dozen stops and new recruits arrived with each new planet or station they passed by. Spartan barely noticed any of this though, he was determined to make amends and if this meant being a Marine then he was damned sure he was going to be the best!
Training had now progressed to the firearms stage and Spartan was starting to feel the competition. Unlike most of the recruits, he had little experience with shooting and actually found the action of waiting and taking careful aim to be less than exciting. All of his combat experience had been in the brutal close quarter brawling of the illegal pit fights. In those fights it was all about individual combat, fighting skill and attitude. There were few that could face him in a fight and expect to win, but that didn’t involve the use of firearms. This was a total change for him and he was having a problem getting around to the idea that even the weakest, most inexperienced recruit could bring him down with a standard issue firearm.
The Drill Sergeant was certainly not going any easier on them. But at least he seemed to have a minor measure of respect for the improvements in discipline and close quarter combat they had worked on. They had already been issued with their weapons, though it had been made clear from the start that they were being loaded with safe ammunition that would cause no more than bruises.
This was the largest training hall on the ship and reinforced with three layers on the outer hull proofed against all the weapons they used. Even if anything did go wrong there was an additional section fitted outside, but that had apparently never happened. They had already trained in this section and the space was big enough to conduct anything up to platoon-sized actions, with or without weapons. Now, the one end was equipped as a firing range although Spartan had seen it previously equipped as a mock village and tunnel sequence for use by the recruits.
The Sergeant stepped forward and held a weapon up in front of him.
“This here is the L48 rifle. It is the standard ranged weapon of every marine and you will carry it wherever you go. It is available in both rifle and carbine versions. The default round is 12.7mm, this makes it a large calibre weapon but with improvements in recoil reduction, you will notice almost no different to the 10mm training round. The selector will choose proximity modes on the bullets giving you flexibility in combat. As with every marine rifle the M11 bayonet will easily fit without affecting the balance of the weapon.” He walked down the line.
“Each magazine carries twenty rounds of variable operation ammunition. You will not waste these. In combat, you must make every round count. If you need greater firepower, we still have the modular 6mm module that will allow you to fit the smaller calibre box magazine to both the rifle and carbine variants. These are recommended for close quarter assault roles only or for use in sealed environments where armour penetration could be a problem. For most occasions, you will want the flexibility of the new 12.7mm VO rounds. These will give you the most tactical advantages.” He held up one of the rounds.
“Now, watch carefully whilst I demonstrate the use of this damned fine piece of equipment!”
He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and aimed down the range. At the far end was a line of cardboard shapes that looked very roughly man sized. He squeezed the trigger and fired a single round. There was a muffled report as the round blasted from the weapon and smashed straight through the target’s head leaving a milk bottle-sized hole.
“Now, that was the standard mode and uses none of the advantages of the new VO rounds. The next mode is what we call armour-penetrating mode. It will trigger a small explosive blast at a distance of one metre behind the first object it strikes. This means you can put a round through a wall or lightly armoured vehicle and still take out the man inside,” he said with a wry grin.
The Sergeant flicked the selector on the side and fired again at the next target. This time there was a sheet with a gap behind and then another target set up. The round ripped through the first as before and then a short distance behind spread a cloud of silver dust on the target.
“Obviously we do not use live weapons, unless we want to get blasted into space. Now don’t worry too much. From what I have been following you will get plenty of opportunity to put these weapons to the test against our Zealot friends.”
Turning back to the range, he flicked the switch to the last mode.
“Now, this is the pièce de résistance for the L48. For those of you with the IQ of a drainpipe that means this is the single best feature of this great weapon.”
A dull grumble spread through the group though it was a fair split down the middle, half unimpressed with the criticism, the rest not quite sure what had just been said.
“What do you do when Z-Man is hiding in a bunker or building of some kind? Sure, you could pop a round through the wall but that assumes you can penetrate it. The L48 is good but it isn’t magic. Reinforced concrete and heavy armour can stop a weapon but this guy can hit round a corner.”
A murmur of surprise continued through the group.
“Just watch!” The Sergeant swung the weapon around.
At the far end of the hall was a mock wall with a small window beyond which was another target. The Sergeant waved his hand and one of his assistants pushed the man-shaped target down into a crouching position so that it couldn’t be seen through the window.
“Note how our cowardly foe keeps his head down so we can’t hit him. Well, tough shit pal!” He pulled the trigger. The gun fired and from their perspective the students could see a cloud of silver dust behind the wall. The Sergeant signalled to his assistant who then lowered the wall so the recruits could see the target covered in powder.
“What you see here is the laser rangefinder capability being integrated with the advanced projectile. The way this works is simple. Aim for the outer wall that your guy is hiding behind. Hit the range button, this will set the sight for your weapon. Then hit the armour penetration mode, the same mode you used at the start. The shell will explode one metre behind the range you selected. Recruits, to your places!”
They spread out into the twelve places designated for the marksmen. Spartan lay down in the third and checked his weapon as he had been taught. The gun was certainly far from new but it appeared intact and nothing was broken or missing, as far as he could tell. He checked the chamber was clear and the magazine was out of the weapon. One final check ensured the gun was on safety before he put up his hand to signal he was ready.
“This will be a precision round. Each of you has a twelve-round training magazine. You will be presented with a random selection of targets and will have to choose the correct weapon mode to claim the kill. Once you take out the target the next will load in automatically. There are ten targets, that gives you two spare. I want to see spare rounds by the end of the shooting. Understood?”
“Yes, Sergeant!” came the chorus in response.
“Make ready!”
The targets loaded into position, the first being a simple man-sized target, nothing fancy. The recruits readied their guns, aiming carefully but waiting for the signal.
“Fire!”
A volley of fire like that of a Napoleonic battle erupted down the line as the guns fired in unison. Every single target was knocked down and the second targets moved in to replace them. This time they faced the man behind a wall. The change in target resulted in a few of them pausing whilst they considered what to do, followed by a ragged volley of gunshots. Only half of the targets changed and it became instantly clear that it was a trick round. The figures behind the walls were positioned off to one side. Only those that selected the armour-penetrating mode, or the laser rangefinder with the extra metre selected,
hit the man first time. It was all a bit confusing.
Spartan was having fun and so far he’d hit two out of two, he seemed to be in the top few of the group. The third target popped up, it was two men, one next to the other. Without thinking he fired one round then another. As the target dropped a bunker appeared. It seemed to only take about thirty seconds and the shooting was over.
“Clear your weapons and show me what you have left!” The Sergeant shouted.
Each of the recruits made their weapons safe and then ejected the spare training rounds from the chamber and magazine. Of the twelve recruits only one had two spare rounds, the rest were a mixture.
The Sergeant walked along the line, stopping at each recruit, berating them for their shooting. When he reached Spartan he looked less than impressed.
“What is this?” he asked sarcastically.
Spartan had the weapon laid out before him but with no spare rounds.
“I hit them all, Sergeant,” answered Spartan, though he was starting to realise he had done something wrong.
The Sergeant moved to the next shooter, it was the ginger-haired man from the incident when he first arrived. The man held up two rounds.
“I’d be so impressed if you’d actually hit the ten targets, look again.”
The recruits all looked down the range to find one of the targets still standing. As they watched, the Sergeant whipped out his pistol and fired a single shot down the line, striking the head of the target. It fell back and the course was finally complete. The Sergeant moved back to Spartan.
“You wasted rounds on targets that one round could easily have done. Remember number three? The one with two guys stood close together?”
Spartan nodded, realising what was coming.
“You fired at each. Why not used the timed-mode with range finder? One shot, two kills. The round can easily take out three or four targets in one go. That means a shot like Ginger here can still get kills even if he misses. You understand?”
Star Crusades Uprising: The First Trilogy Page 7
