There were enlisted men stowing supplies in the neatly arranged storage compartment reserved for the Recon platoon. Most were from the space base, but Dean guessed that some were from the Charlemagne. Dean slipped into the long, narrow room and quickly found what he was looking for. The large ammo crates marked MA5547 were stacked two deep on a metal storage rack with bungee straps securing the cargo in case of an emergency. Dean popped the latches and looked inside. There were rows and rows of flechettes, but instead of the deadly metal darts Dean was used to, the new ammo looked more like hyperdermic needles. He pulled out one of the boxes and retrieved the obligatory specs. The new flechettes had a shorter range and a standard response rate of thirty seconds to ten minutes, depending on the size and physiology of the target.
Dean folded the paper that came inside the carton of flechettes, and then closed the latches on the crate. He made sure the large box was secure, then returned to the corridor wondering why they were being sent to put down a civil conflict with what appeared to be non-lethal ammunition. If they were in a fire fight, having tranquilizer darts instead of bullets would put them at a serious disadvantage. And if they didn’t win their first battles in overwhelming fashion, whoever their enemy turned out to be would become even bolder in combat knowing that their own lives weren’t at stake. Dean would have liked to have trained for at least a week with new ammunition, instead he would have to trust the VR training and hope he could pull the platoon together before they were dropped into a hot zone.
Dean opened a platoon channel on his wrist link and sent his entire unit a message to meet him in the training room in five minutes. As expected, Staff Sergeant Chavez was the first to arrive.
“Everyone on board and accounted for, Captain,” he said.
“Thank you Staff Sergeant.”
“Looking forward to our first exercise, even if it’s just in the dream room.”
“Well, you’ll have to hold off on that,” Dean said. “I want all our equipment double checked - including ammunition. We leave nothing to chance on this tour. Am I clear?”
“Yes sir,” Chavez said.
It was obvious that he was biting back his desire to argue. Dean wasn’t surprised that his Staff Sergeant wanted to train with the new platoon. Chavez had contributed to the team, picking almost the entire regimen of Heavy Armor Specialists. They would have trained hard all together in Bayview, but that opportunity was gone. The New Rome system would only require one day of FTL travel from the jump point. That meant in just over two days they would be in the thick of things and Dean wanted everyone ready. If they left the Space Base without some critical piece of equipment, their mission could fail. Worse yet, someone might get seriously hurt or even killed. Dean didn’t want to live with that on his conscience, and didn’t want Chavez to have to either.
“We’ve got new ammo,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll be playing by a whole new set of rules on Rome Three. Double check every invoice, and visually check every crate. I want a comprehensive report, but if anything is missing don’t wait for me. Get what we need on this ship before we leave the space base.”
“I read you, Captain, loud and clear.” The look on Chavez’s face had gone from mild resentment to understanding and determination. “I won’t let you down.”
“I never doubted it, Staff Sergeant.”
Chavez saluted, then hurried away. When Dean stepped back into the VR training room, his platoon was assembled and ready. There was nothing that filled him with more pride than looking at the brave men and women who would fight shoulder to shoulder with him. He still had trouble believing that he had been chosen to lead a platoon of the most elite soldiers in the entire realm of human occupied space. Yet as he looked at the faces staring back at him, some smiling with anticipation, others studying him to see if they could trust him, he knew he had more than just a platoon of soldiers - they were a pack of well trained, hungry, predators, just waiting to be put to the test. And it was time to let them off the leash.
“Suit up,” he said in a calm but commanding voice.
The platoon leader’s TCU was much like his actual battle helmet, but older and made to be one size fits all, so it fit loosely on his head. Unlike the other specialties, he didn’t have training armor, or a unidirectional treadmill to help simulate actual combat deployment. As his helmet came online, the names, ranks, and simulated munitions appeared as he looked at each of the soldiers under his command. A new list of training exercises also appeared. Dean blinked a few times, selecting the terrain, enemies, and goals of the first exercise.
“Here we go, people,” Dean said. “Time to show me what you’re made of. Platoon! Convex, Starboard, Pincer, Saber, Safety!”
It took the members of Dean’s platoon a few seconds to get used to the combination of physical movement, along with the hand held controls. Most of the movement was done as the equipment tracked the eye movement of each Specialist. The treadmills began to move and the platoon assembled into the formation Dean had called out. The Heavy Armor Specialists, six in all, with the massive titanium-hydrogen shields on their back turned to face Dean, forming a curving line around their Captain.
Fast Attack Specialist Emily Harper took a position on the right side of the HA line, while Cat Valosky moved to the left. The platoon sniper Sergeant Brodus appeared on Dean’s right side as silently as a ghost. His long rifle was held at the ready and he looked relaxed. Dean was glad that he had well seasoned veterans in his new platoon. He was comfortable being in command and confident in what he did well, but he was also grateful to have talented Specialists who could enhance the platoon’s effectiveness.
On his left, Staff Sergeant Chavez was conspicuously absent. Dean was anxious to see his new second in command operate as the platoon CCS, but he trusted Chavez to have his back no matter what he faced. Their bond was solid, Dean was sure of that, and Chavez knew his business. His absence wouldn’t keep him from evaluating his platoon’s performance in their first training exercise.
Demolition Specialists Eleanor Tallgrass and Grayson Chancy fell in behind the others, taking up positions were they could watch for enemies flanking on either side, or lob heavy ordinance over the HA defensive line. It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that Chancy moved in an almost lazy fashion, making it obvious that he considered himself above training. Dean didn’t know if the Corporal was dragging his feet because he didn’t like VR training, which Dean could completely understand since the method had serious disadvantages, or if perhaps there were other reasons for Chancy’s poor attitude.
“Not bad,” Dean said. “Let’s do a few more formations before we jump into the exercise. Static, Eagle, Stinger Weak, Eye, Support.”
This time the line of HA Specialists formed more quickly, overlapping their shields and setting up in a straight line. Both the Fast Attack Specialists moved to the left of the line, while the Demo team moved forward to support the HA Specialists with either ammunition or additional firepower as needed. Dean’s attention was on Chancy, who seemed to be dragging his feet on purpose, sending his new Captain a message.
Dean was surprised when he turned to look at his sniper. Grady Brodus was already in the air. In the computer generated VR training field, there was nothing for the sniper to nest in, or even cling to, but he could hold his position high above the others without worrying about running down the fuel in his booster packs that were integrated into his armor.
“Nice work, Sergeant Brodus,” Dean said. “Let’s make sure I’ve got everyone’s vid feed in my TCU. Excellent.”
He wasn’t certain, but Dean thought he heard an exasperated sigh and he had no doubt where it was coming from. Still, he didn’t want to make snap judgements about the people in his platoon. It was his job to bring them together, to make them the best team possible. And Dean knew the platoon was only as effective as its weakest link. Chancy might need a little special attention, but Dean was prepared for that.
“One more time. Move like
you mean it people. Cheveron, Talon, Beak, Venom, Hot!”
The formation was unusual. The HA line formed a V shape, which was normally used to charge into an enemy position. The Fast Attack, Sniper, and Close Combat Specialists were ordered forward into support positions, while the demo team was ordered back several yards from the line where they could safely fire mortars without endangering the rest of the platoon.
Where as both Fast Attack Specialists jerked forward, their training kicking in despite the unusual formation command, Sergeant Brodus slid forward so gracefully it was like his feet weren’t even touching the ground. Dean did his best to keep up with all the members of his platoon, but while Sergeant Tallgrass moved quickly back into her assigned position, Chancy started forward, expecting to be ordered to support the HA line like the rest of the platoon. He cursed under his breath as he stumbled back and nearly fell as he struggled to give himself enough room for mortar operations.
Dean held back the emotional outburst he felt like showing. The last thing his platoon needed was to see him get angry, or even seem disappointed in their performance. It was their first time to train together after all, and even when everyone had combat experience it still took time for a newly formed platoon to come together and perform at optimum levels. Dean had spent nearly a month training with his first platoon, and he had to admit that most of the Specialists under his command were very good at their jobs.
He cycled up the first wave of adversaries, a group of three, fast moving spidery creatures. They had thick, bulbous bodies and eight articulated legs which they used to sprint from place to place, taking cover as they closed the distance toward the platoon.
“Sergeant Brodus, if you please.”
“Yes sir,” the sniper said in his thick accent.
His Vandamere SE Long Rifle came up in one smooth motion, tracking the targets for only a moment before the first shot rang out. The battle armor was made to filter out the majority of noise that could potentially damage human hearing, specifically the concussion of weapon fire. Still, Dean heard the long rifle’s report and saw the lead spider creature crash to the ground and roll to a stop. The other two jumped over their fallen companion and scurried behind a large rock in the VR exercise field. When they came out Sergeant Brodus was ready, he took out the two remaining creatures before they reached the safety of the next rock outcropping.
“Very nice work,” Dean said. “Fast Attack, it’s your turn.”
A herd of four legged creatures that looked like a cross between a wild hog and an armadillo, complete with thick organic armor came charging toward them.
“AAV’s,” Dean said as the heard split into two groups angling away from one another as they charged toward the platoon.
Both of the Fast Attack Specialists reacted without hesitation, their movements almost seemed to be coordinated. The Aerial Attack Vehicles shot into the air and flew toward the groups of creatures. When their bombs dropped large clouds of dirt, rock, and alien flesh flew up into the sky. Dean heard the shrieks of the dying creatures and he was glad they were in a simulated training mission, not an actual battle.
The training went on for over an hour. The Heavy Armor Specialists held off waves of projected needles from large creatures that were covered in quills like a porcupine. Their shoulder mounted utility canons mowed down a screaming horde of humanoid aliens, and with every formation command they seemed to work together more quickly and efficiently. The three privates, Carver, Wilson, and Kliner were extremely athletic. They followed orders, both from Dean and from Sergeant Bear D’Vris, who barked at them in his heavy French accent. Dean could see why Chavez had chosen them, and it also revealed the Staff Sergeant’s skill at choosing talented Specialists. Dean tucked away that information in case he needed it later.
The Demolitions team was by far the most out of sync. Sergeant Eleanor Tallgrass performed flawlessly. It was obvious that she knew her business and that she was focused on Dean’s commands. Corporal Chancy on the other hand struggled with nearly every command. One of his biggest problems was that he tried to anticipate Dean’s commands before they were given. He grumbled when he guessed wrong, which he often was, making it clear that he thought Dean’s directions were wrong. He also had trouble with the VR movement and the training armor, which included the weapons the Demolition Specialists commonly carried. He complained that things were loaded into his pack wrong, or that his training helmet was glitching. Dean wanted to give the insolent soldier the benefit of the doubt, but Chancy’s behavior and sour attitude made it difficult.
When the training exercise was over, Dean sent the group out to clean up, get some chow, and then rest, in that specific order. When the group had moved out of the training facility, Dean downloaded the results and his personal observations to his data pad for further study. He felt good about his platoon, they were a talented group. Corporal Chancy needed special attention, but Dean wasn’t sure what exactly was needed. They didn’t have a lot of time, but Dean would find a way to speak to Chancy, to help him deal with whatever was keeping him from performing at his highest level. That was Dean’s first and primary mission, one he was determined not to fail.
After training with his platoon, Dean was hot, tired, and hungry. He had planned to follow his own orders of getting cleaned up and hopefully getting a warm meal, but before he even got out of the training room his wrist link vibrated. The message was simple and yet Dean had to take a moment to calm his nerves. He had hoped for just such a note for a long time, not knowing if he would ever hear from Captain Esmeralda Dante again. Yet she had sent the message, he could see that much on the small screen of his wrist link. The entire message consisted of only three words and her name: Thinking of you, Esma.
Chapter 10
“We’re underway people,” Vice Admiral Duncan declared to the room full of officers. “I’ve just received our official orders. We are to proceed to the New Rome system at the fastest speed possible. From there, we will meet the rest of the EsDef fleet and monitor the situation on Rome Three. Our Recon platoon, led by Captain Blaze, will drop down and join the other EsDef troops on the ground. Captain, you’ll be under the command of Major McDowell, and you are to prep your troops for non-lethal tactics, including the new ammunition.”
Dean didn’t move a muscle. It was exactly what he had anticipated, but hearing it spoken aloud still made him angry. Not that he wanted to kill human colonists, but he didn’t think the fighters on Rome Three would give him the same consideration when firing back.
“Are there any questions?” the Vice Admiral asked.
“How long until we reach the New Rome system?” asked Lieutenant Hugh Owens, the Operations officer from Australia. Dean had just met him, along with the other officers when the Vice Admiral called the meeting in the Charlemagne’s Wardroom and he seemed to Dean like a nice guy. He was a few years older than Dean, with quick intelligent eyes.
“Eighteen hours to reach the jump point,” the VA said. “Twenty-four at FTL, then another ten to reach orbit around Rome Three. You’ll need to be ready to shuttle the Recon platoon down as soon as we reach orbit.”
“Aye sir,” the Operations officer said.
“Anything else?” the VA asked.
The room was silent and he dismissed them. Dean’s mind was whirling. He hadn’t even had time to respond to Esma’s message before being summoned to the Wardroom. The urge to hurry from the room and inform his platoon had to be suppressed, instead he waited for Lieutenant Owen to get close enough that they could talk quietly.
“Captain, Blaze, it’s an honor sir,” Owen said.
“You'll be piloting my platoon down to the surface?” Dean asked.
“Yes, sir, we have a Raptor 221 combat ready shuttle.”
“Armed?”
“I uh... I’m not certain, sir. It has combat capabilities. But I thought Vice Admiral Duncan said we were using non-lethal force?”
“Indeed, we have new ammunition for the mission, a type of tranqui
lizer dart. And my concern is that if we don't suppress the fighting quickly, the colonists will know we aren't a threat. That could mean trouble for my platoon. I don't want to take any chances. I need to know if we call in air support we're going to get it.”
“No worries, Captain, I’ll check the ordinance on the Raptor myself,” Owens declared.
“Excellent. I trust you've taken troops into live fire situations in the past?”
“A few times, but most of the drops I’ve made were less threatening.”
“Just get us on the dirt safely, we can handle whatever comes after that.”
“Again, it’s a privilege sir,” the Lieutenant said.
“The privilege is mine,” Dean said, shaking his Operator’s hand.
When Dean finally got back to his room, it was the first time he had been in his quarters since coming aboard the Charlemagne. He was pleased to find that he had three small, but separate areas. There was a sleeping chamber, with a floor to ceiling storage locker. He also had an office, with a desk that was bolted to the floor. Behind the desk was an executive, swivel chair and on the opposite wall there was a large vid screen. The two chairs in front of the desk were much smaller and didn’t seem comfortable at all, as if they were designed to keep visitors from staying in the office and taking up too much of the Recon platoon officer’s time. He would need to file a report with EsDef soon, outlining the munitions they had on board, and the training he planned to do in route to the New Rome system. He was glad to have a space to work in, but first he needed to clean up and rest, which led him to the third room in his tiny suite. The bathroom area was small but very clean and stocked with towels and supplies. There was a small shower stall, that also served as his light treatment station, a sink with vid screen above it, and a toilet.
Welcome To The Wolfpack Page 5
