Standish

by Donald B McFarlane

  “Collect a rifle and return to your seats.”

  The candidates did as they were told. Standish pulled a rifle that looked old and worn, then sat back down.

  “First things first.” The instructor jumped down from the table and moved to the closet pair of trainees. “Listen in, because all of you will repeat this.” He looked down at the first pair. “Confirm the weapon is safe, then remove the empty energy clip.”

  The first pair did as ordered. The next step was to confirm that the weapon had no residual charge, and after that step, they put the rifles down. Satisfied, the instructor moved on to the next table.

  When the instructor reached Standish, she went through the drills just like all the proceeding students. When the instructor had checked the last recruit, he moved back to the front of the room. “Well done. You didn’t screw up the easiest task you’ll probably be asked to perform at this school.” There were a few laughs. “Next on the list, I want you to field strip the weapon. This is also something everyone should be confident with.” He waited while the task was accomplished. “Good.” The instructor snapped his fingers, and the droids that had brought in the weapons racks proceeded to move down each row, checking the quality of the work the students had performed. They managed to make it to the end of every row without finding a fault.

  “Well done, now put them back together.” He ordered.

  Everyone went to the task with speed. Standish finished her work and set the rifle down. Once again, the droids went down the rows and didn’t report any faults.

  “Ok. Now what is going to happen is that the droids are going to come to you, and you will perform a functions test.” He paused, looked around the room. “Off you go.”

  Standish picked up the rifle and waited for the droid to come to her position. Once it was done with the recruit on her left, she stood up and went through the functions test with ease. No dramas. Setting the rifle back down, Standish sat back into her seat and waited.

  “Good. We are now going to talk about the marksmanship principles.” The instructor tapped a button on his wrist pad, and a large holographic image appeared above his table. “I know everyone here has done this before, but we are going to do it again to make sure everyone is up to speed.”

  The next hour proceeded almost word for word like the briefing she had had on Bern 36 at her basic course. The instructors probably read from the same manual. Sight picture, breathing, balance.

  Once they had finished with their marksmanship principles, the instructor surprised them by informing them that they would be qualifying with those rifles that same day. This news got the recruits slightly riled up. Everyone was looking forward to shooting, but everyone knew that there was an excellent chance that if they failed to meet the basic rifle standards on their first go, they might be sent packing. It was clear from the run that they were expected to come prepared, and weapons qualifications and handling were a considerable part of the Dynamic Operations course.

  Taking their rifles, the trainees filed out of the room and followed the instructor down the hall, and out the rear of the building, where two large flat-bed transports were waiting.

  “Find a spot.” The instructor ordered.

  Once everyone was aboard, the two transports started off at a slow pace away from the building, towards the foothills of the giant mountains. The carriers floated over the sandy ground almost silently as they moved along. Standish couldn’t see any operating systems or controls and assumed that the instructor was probably issuing them directions somehow.

  As the two transports moved farther away from the temple, the recruits all focused their attention to the front, looking for the weapons range they were bound for. After a five-minute commute, they came to a halt at the base of a gradual rising hill that was just in front of the broad mountain range.

  “Off!” The instructor yelled. After everyone had stepped down from the featureless transports, the instructor offered the first twist to the training. “We just travelled over four kilometres.” He smiled and walked over to one of the transports and hit a small button, which sent one of the transports heading back towards the temple. “And I know that you’ve just had a bit of a run this morning, but this course is designed to challenge and teach you.” He walked over to the remaining transport and picked up a large box and pulled out a silver ball. “This is a practice target. There is one here for each of you. You are going to use these devices to zero your rifles. Once everyone has zeroed, you are going to run back to the temple stopping at various intervals, one-thousand metres, five hundred metres, four hundred, three hundred, two hundred, one hundred, and then fifty and twenty-five metres to engage your targets. They hover and will trail you. When you start back, you will see lines marked on the ground for each distance. When you stop, the ball will be at the correct distance from you. The closer you get to the temple, the closer the ball will be to you.

  “Now, because we do not want to make this too easy, you will perform ten press-ups at every distance and ten squats with the rifle above your head.”

  There was a collective groan from the group of candidates.

  “That means seven distances and seven groups of exercises.” The instructor walked to the nearest candidate and handed him a target. “Your rifles optics will auto-search for your particular target, so when you look through your sights at one thousand metres, you won’t be distracted by one-hundred and four other floating targets. You can fire from whatever position you deem fit, but I think that it is fairly obvious which is the most accurate at all these ranges.” He continued to hand out the targets. “Just make sure you hold these close to your scopes until the targets light up. Once they light up, they will activate. Once they activate, they will hover in the air one point five metres in the air. Once everyone has activated their targets, you will form a firing line, and zero your optics at a range of ten metres.”

  The candidates did as they were told, and quickly formed a firing line ten metres from their targets.

  “Charge your weapons. If you hadn’t guessed by now, all your rifles are of the training variety, but try not to shoot each other.” The instructor moved to the side of the one-hundred and five targets. “Adopt a secure firing position and begin zeroing your weapons.”

  It didn’t take long for the buzz of charged non-lethal laser blasts going through the air. Everyone had adopted a prone firing position, it offered the most stability, and would most likely be the position of choice for everyone for every distance on the exercise.

  Some of the recruits took longer than others to zero their weapons, but there was never any shame in that on a range, Standish had learned that over the years. It was only a fool who insisted their weapon was ready to qualify without it being adequately prepared. Once everyone was set, the instructor stood them up, had them face back towards the temple, and readied them.

  “You only need one hit per distance.”

  Standish shook her legs out. This was an event she should do well in. Her cardiovascular was in the top tier of the class, and she knew that she had the physicality to perform the exercises at each distance. While she knew her shooting could improve, she knew it was competent enough to keep her competitive.

  “At your leisure, go.” The instructor said, and that released the one-hundred and five recruits as they started jogging back towards the temple. Some went out faster than others, but Standish knew that was an error in judgement. If this were just a running test, then speed would be of the utmost importance, but this was more about stamina and shooting.

  Standish focused on what she could control, something she had learned as a young girl growing up in a farming community on Nadolo Prime, run your own race. She held onto her rifle with both hands, as she had been taught on Bern 36, and focused on covering the ground to the first firing line, which was the one-thousand-metre target.

  It did not take long for the recruits to reach the line, and when they did, they all turned to face their targets then went about conductin
g the fitness challenges. Knocking out the squats first, Standish dropped down onto her stomach and banged out her press-ups, and as soon as she was finished, she adopted a stable firing position and started to control her breathing.

  Taking a deep breath in, the barrel climbed slightly on the target, then dropped on the exhale. Standish could hear other candidates around her fire off their first shots, but she waited until she was ready, then squeezed the trigger. The shot missed just to the left of the target, so she shifted her position slightly, aimed again, and scored a hit. Putting the safety back on, Standish sprung to her feet and started running towards the temple.

  The process repeated itself at the remaining distances. When Standish got to the final target at twenty-five metres, her arms and legs were almost dead from all the squatting and press-ups that she had performed. There were only three other candidates in touch with her when she reached the final firing line, and she was going to go for an aggressive strategy to finish the course.

  Her push-ups complete, Standish sprang back up to her feet, brought the rifle up, and took aim, and fired off a series of shots at the target. The energy rifle had no recoil, so even if her first shot were off, the next shots would also be close. She wasn’t sure which shot reached home, but the target acknowledged the hit, and she safetied her rifle and lowered it down by her side, just as the second and third candidates registered their hits.

  Standish watched the rest of the candidates reach the final firing line and take their last shots. There was a smile on her face as the sweat that had started to grow on her brow ran down the sides of her face. Her uniform was soaked, and her muscles were tired and starved of air. It was worth the effort to finish first in the event, she didn’t know how the scoring system at the school worked, but she knew it always helped to be a winner.

  38

  The Past

  Guhr 8-Nine

  It had been over eleven months since Standish had arrived on Guhr 8-Nine. They had lost almost seventy-five percent of their course through a variety of circumstances. Most were sent off the course because of failure to meet training standards or through injury. A few candidates had gotten themselves killed, and a few had withdrawn from the course. Those were the only candidates that weren’t shown any respect.

  There was the rare exception of someone withdrawing from the course because their home-world had been attacked by the Pohjois. Under the circumstances, the very survival of a species might rest on the health of members of the fleet, who were taken away under a directive from Alliance command to a safe zone where they could enable the continuation of their species through heavily regulated and monitored procreation.

  But none of that mattered anymore. It was time for the big one. The test that the instructors had been mentioning in passing since they had arrived on Guhr 8-Nine. None of the candidates had any idea of what the test was other than it was the final. Rumours had swirled around the fleet about what the old final examination had been during the time of the Empire, but they had nothing but speculation and guesswork to give them an idea of what they were about to face.

  When the twenty-eight candidates entered the primary lecture hall, Standish was in the middle of the pack. She had done well on the course, perhaps not as well as she had performed on the Rescue Technician course.

  The room was like every other inside the temple. Sand coloured stone walls and matching tables with benches. It always made Standish laugh at how little had been done in the training sections of the temple to convert it to a more modern standard. The trainees had never been allowed in the operational side of the building, or the subterranean levels, so they might have been a little more current in look and feel, but these sections were utterly ancient.

  When they had arrived on Guhr 8-Nine, they had taken up almost every single seat in the room, now it was virtually empty, and the recruits comfortably fit on the first two rows of benches. Sitting down on the second row in the middle, a spot Standish liked because it allowed her to have a vantage point to survey the rest of the room, she waited for the briefing to begin. Sitting in silence, she looked down at her uniform. It was in tatters. She had arrived on the planet with several uniforms. Some for fitness, others for classroom work, and others for more formal duties, but they were all in rags now. They had been told to attend briefings or formations in their most formal attire, then sent on treks up the mountain that towered over the old temple. As a result, almost no one had a serviceable uniform at that point.

  Conducting her own inspection of her uniform that she had picked for that briefing, her work overalls, her best-conditioned suit, she noticed that the knees were worn clean through and most of the front had been scratched. At least the outfit kept her decent unlike one of the other female trainees still on the course who had no tops left in her wardrobe and had to walk around in her athletic support, which produced unwanted stares from the men.

  After sitting waiting for five minutes, their instructors filed in and stood ready along the left-hand wall. This got Standish’s attention since the last time she saw all the instructors at one place at the same time was at the finishing line after their arrival on Guhr 8-Nine. Another few minutes of waiting and a figure she had never seen before walked in, stopping at each instructor and had a private word, then proceeded to the front of the room where a podium had been set up.

  “Instructors, will you please take seats behind the candidates.”

  That was also a first, and all the recruits turned around in their seats to watch their teachers take positions on the rows behind them.

  “Thank you.” The figure walked over to the primary data-screen and activated it. “Well done on reaching this part of training.” He pointed to the screen. “I am Dynamic Operator Maris Von Unterbell. I am the head of all D-O operations for the Alliance.” He focused his attention back on the recruits. “This war has ripped the Empire in half, and it is the job of the Alliance to put it back together, by force if necessary. Dynamic Operations has a straightforward mandate, support fleet operations in whatever way required, and to perform missions that other units cannot.” He started to pace along the front of the room. “For your final test, your instructors, and those on the operational side of D-O have planned a rather unique programme for you. Less flashy than you’d expect, perhaps, but just as critical to understanding what D-O is about, and to see if you have what it takes to be a member of the teams.” He stopped and kicked the toe of his boot on the stone floor. “I will leave you in the capable hands of your instructors to explain this test to you, but I want you to know that while shooting, marching, and all of those combat-related things are critical to a good operator, it is the mind of our team members that separates us from regular fleet personnel.” He tapped the side of his head. “Senior!”

  “Sir!” Came the reply behind Standish.

  “They are yours.” Maris Von Unterbell walked to the end of the first row, then paused and looked over the remaining recruits, then checked his data-terminal on his left wrist. “I hope to see all of you in forty-eight hours.” He smiled, then walked down the side of the room, and out of sight.

  Standish had followed him with her eyes, like the rest of the candidates, and once he was out of view, she whipped her head around to the front of the room, unsure of what the test would be. Standish, and almost everyone else, had hoped for some major assault or something of a flamboyant nature. That briefing suggested that it wouldn’t be that dramatic.

  When the senior instructor reached the front of the room, he toggled the image on the data-screen and showed a lush green wilderness with a massive grey building in the centre. Standish looked at the picture and figured that it was a regal building of some importance, but she had never seen it before.

  “Does anyone know what building this is?” The instructor asked. When no one replied, he pulled the image out to show a large section of the planet they were looking at to include a large city in the distance. “Any guess about what planet this is?” More silence. After looking
at the faces of the trainees, he pulled the image back further, to show a green and blue ball floating in space. “Can anyone identify this planet?” Again, silence. He then flipped to a final image of the star system that the planet was in. More silence. He took a few steps towards the first row. “Standish.” He looked at her. “You know what Mechcharga is, don’t you?”

  Standish looked to her right, then left, then back to the instructor. “The capital?” She replied.

  The instructor smiled and backed away from the front bench. “That is correct. Mechcharga is the capital of the Alliance.” He pointed to a different candidate. “Yolandi, why is Mechcharga the capital of the Alliance?”

  “Because it was the capital of the Etelainen before the war.” Yolandi replied.

  “Very good.” The instructor replied and pointed at Kixz. “And why was it the capital of the Etelainen?”

  “The queen lives there?”

  The instructor smiled. “Close. Princess.” He nodded and brought the image back to the picture of the large structure that had been shown first. “So, who can take a guess as to what this building is now?”

  “The royal palace?” Kixz answered.

  “That is correct.” The instructor said and zoomed into a lush and well-manicured section of the grounds next to the large building. “And that would make this area the?”

  “The royal park?” Barondo said.

  The instructor rocked his head side to side. “Close again. These are the royal gardens.” He looked up at the image. “They are supposed to be among the most impressive in the Etelainen.” He looked back at the candidates. “And why am I showing you these images?”

  There was silence. He looked back at the image, and walked closer to the viewscreen, then toggled through pictures of the gardens, almost taking time to appreciate each image for the vibrant colours and exotic planet life each showed. Turning around, he put his hands on his hips in a sign of disapproval for a moment, then dropped his arms to his side. “This is the target for your final examination.”