The target was shimmering in the heat, a tiny circular white dot. I balanced it in the sights and tried to steady my aim.
"All right, Rains. Aimed fire, single shots, xmin. Fire when ready." Doggie was by my side on one knee. The range erupted as everyone began firing. The xmin setting fired caseless armor-piercing explosive xtex rounds, which originated in the xtex generator that created new rounds and fed them into the firing tube. But we were firing training rounds, which were non-explosive. All right, here goes.
I fired. My ear baffles muffled the sharp crack. I couldn't see where the round had impacted.
"Eight," Doggie said. "Let's see if we can improve that. Again."
We did it again. And again and again. We fired all morning and when the rains began we fired some more. Finally they let us march back to the squadmod. When we departed the range, we brought our E's with us. From then on they were with us always – in the classroom, in the mess hall, on our runs up Mount Sweat, in the heads, by our beds when we slept – everywhere we went. We visited the range most every day, and soon we were firing live rounds – no more practice rounds. Xmin, xmax, vmin, vmax, combat laser, launching contac smoke gas and biobloc grenades, and firing flame and flares.
I loved it. I loved every frac. I couldn't get enough.
On that first day, it was clear that Overmar was our best marksman. His scores were almost perfect. He already knew how to shoot, and how to shoot very well. I wondered where he had learned it.
Δ
"Rains, Overmar," Doggie's voice crackled in my ears. "Move right, see that rise, with the grove of trees?" The sun had just set in an orange glow, casting long violet shadows everywhere. We were out in the field, in the middle of nowhere, in comtops and A-vests, clad in camfax, carrying live E's. Tactics 101. We hadn't yet seen the inside of an A-suit, and we didn't have any fancy gear, but were learning the basics of maneuvering a squad successfully against the enemy.
"Tenners," Overmar said. I could see it, too. The tacmap showed the position on my visor.
"You should be in defilade there," Doggie said. "But not from airbursts. Move forward around the trees, keep right and be careful, they're out there. Burns, Surinto, move up but keep to the left of that gully. The trees should cover you. Zhang, Gaignon, cover the gully from this end and be prepared to fire on the enemy if they try to infil there. Oswego, Fordwater, stick with me and stay low. We're going to try left flanking them. Remember – detect and fire."
Overmar and I moved cautiously through tangled undergrowth, presumably out of sight of the enemy. It was getting darker fast. We didn't have any night vision help, so we were on our toes. We paused in a particularly well-sheltered spot, behind a rock ledge. I tried to spot any movement, but didn't see a thing – just a moving ocean of tall grass. They could be anywhere in that.
"I'm doing a recon," Overmar said. He was on private, speaking only to me.
"Aren’t you going to tell Doggie?" I asked.
"Nah. He's busy. If I see anything, I'll let him know."
"All right, but be careful, I've got a feeling they're out there." And Overmar slipped into the tall grass, just like a shadow. Man! Now if anything moved out there, it might be him – and we were working with live ammo! He did show up on my tacmap though, so I kept a close watch.
The tacmap showed Burns and Surinto moving forward on the left with Doggie, and Oswego and Fordwater further left trying to flank the bad guys. Not easy to do when you're not sure where they are. Zhang and Arie were covering the gully, which was choked with vegetation and a tempting avenue of approach for anyone trying to move in on us. I kept my eyes on Overmar, who was moving pretty fast through the long grass. Finally he paused.
"Got some hostiles," he reported on the net. "As marked. Can I fire?"
"Not yet!" Doggie replied. The hostiles showed up on our tacmaps as three red dots, now that Overmar had activated them into the map. "Let us flank them first."
"We got movement in the gully," Zhang reported. "Permission to fire?"
"Got more hostiles near me," Overmar reported.
"Damn it! All right, everybody fire. Fire and attack, pursue the targets–" Doggie was interrupted by a wild crackle of auto xmax as Zhang and Arie took on the infiltrators in the gully and Overmar fired on the targets he had spotted on his recon. I burst out of my position and ran towards the action, opening up full auto xmax at Overmar's three targets, spraying the area down. The xmax impacts erupted brightly, flashing white hot. I gasped in horror as red tracers rippled past me from the front – more of them, they were firing back! I hit the ground quickly.
"Three enemy targets terminated," my tacmod reported.
"There's more of them ahead, Rains," Overmar said. "Move up – attack!" He led by example, charging forward, firing through the grass as our tacmaps detected and revealed four more enemy units. I charged, firing auto xmax at the targets. They went down in a flash of xmax. A wild electronic shrieking was in my ears.
"Rains, you've been hit. Drop down and cease fire." It was Doggie. Damn it! I dropped to the dirt and tried to stay out of the way of any more rounds. A glance at the tacmap showed me that three infiltrators had been massacred by Zhang and Arie in the gully. All right! Of course, I was dead so the engagement had not been successful for me.
"All right, cease fire. That's it. Ten enemy dead, one of ours also killed."
"It was only Rains," Arie said. "We'll get along without him."
"Good work, guys," Doggie said. "Overmar, that was terrific."
Exercise done, I walked over to look at the bodies. These were training robots, of course. They had been torn to shreds by the xmax. Providence churned out hundreds of these machines and they were cheap to make so blowing them away was not a problem. We used holos in some exercises but they just disappeared when you hit them, so it was more realistic to use robots. They wanted us to see what xmax did to the human body. It was scary. Fortunately the robots had not been using live rounds or I'd be really dead. My A-vest was splattered with red stain – they had got me good.
Overmar was looking over the result of his work. I decided I might as well ask.
"Where'd you learn to recon like that, Overmar?"
"Oh, I was with the Deadman Scouts," he said, softly. The Deadman Scouts! Even I knew about them. They were an Outworlder insurgent outfit that waged a full-scale war against the brutal dictatorship that had succeeded the System regime on Sirrah. Their daring accomplishments were legendary but overwhelming military force eventually crushed the insurgency and enslaved most everyone associated with it. The embittered survivors of the Deadman Scouts were in high demand throughout the inhabited galaxy as skilled mercenaries.
So we had a Deadman Scout within our squad. That was good. That was damned good.
Δ
"At ease," Doggie said, emerging from his office. We were all seated at the central table, sipping dox per his instructions. It was not often that he ordered us to enjoy some dox and take it easy. We were in dirty camfax and our E's were leaning against the walls. We were doing a lot of field work every day and into the night and getting a lot better at it. That's how the program was supposed to work.
Doggie had changed into his formal blacks and now he just stood there, looking at us. "I hate to say this," he said, "because it's a little out of character for me – but you folks are doing all right. Not half bad. As a matter of fact – I'm proud of Delta Squad. All right, I've said it. Now back to work. After extensive analysis, it’s time to announce your official squad positions. No whining, please. These assignments are not open to debate. Overmar, you are my number two, Delta Two. Zhang, you are Delta Three. If anything happens to Two, you move into his slot. Fordwater, you are Delta Four. Burns, you are Delta Five and you're our Manlink master." The Manlink was a shoulder fired tactical artillery weapon that launched tacstars. Burns had proven his expertise with the weapon.
"Rains, you're Delta Six. Gaignon, you're Delta Seven. Surinto, you're Delta Eight and you're our scienc
e specialist. Oswego, you're Delta Nine and you're our medic." Oswego had proven a natural in the triage course and was a good choice for the slot.
"We don't have a driver yet but he'll be showing up eventually. Now – from now on we use only the numbers on the net. No names, got it? Remember your numbers and everybody else's numbers, too."
I stood and raised my dox cup. "Here's to Delta One, our fearless leader." I meant it. Everyone stood and raised their cups and gave a cheer. Doggie seemed a bit taken aback at first, but then gave a little smile.
"Thanks," he said. "And now, your war names. This is an old Legion tradition. Your squad leader assigns these names, but does so after getting to know you all and after consulting with your peers. These names can also be used on the net but not until you've proven your ability to work with the numbers.
"All right, here we are. Overton, you're Scout – for obvious reasons. Zhang, you're Saka. People have been calling you that already, right? Waterford, your designation is Ice. If you don't like that, warm up. Burns, you are Smiley. Rains, you're Prophet. People seem to think you can read the future. Gaignon, you're Nitro – small package, big bang. Surinto, you're Professor – what else? Oswego, you're Bees. And that's it. Any questions? Good! Oh. One more thing. I almost forgot."
Bees? I didn't understand that one. Maybe I'd ask Oswego.
"One last war name," Doggie said. "This is also Legion tradition. The squad gets to name the squad leader. And I warn you, if I don't like the name, I can make things very unpleasant for you folks."
I stood up. We were ready for this. "We've already decided, sir," I said.
"Is it unanimous?"
"Yes sir. It is."
"All right, let's hear it."
"Sir, your war name is Doggie."
"Doggie! Who the hell thought that one up?" For a moment I thought he was going to explode. Then he calmed down, thought about it for a bit, and smiled. "Doggie," he said. "Doggie. All right – I'm Doggie." And he laughed.
Δ
"Delta? Go on in." We had never been in this particular building. The sign outside read ARMOR. We had been waiting our turn behind several other squads. Now we were entering past a door labeled SIZING. A giant mechanism squatted in the center of the room. It looked like some kind of doomsday robot, although it appeared to be partially disassembled.
"Delta Two – you’re first." Two techs stood by the machine as Doggie oversaw the procedure. Overmar stepped forward. No – he was Scout now, not Overmar. All those civilian names were gone for good – part of the past.
The techs helped Scout into the open interior of the robot, guiding his feet into the slots below, folding the mechanism slowly around him, placing his arms into the proper places and enclosing him in a giant metal exoskeleton that slowly hissed close and sealed itself. Then they guided a huge helmet-like mechanism around his head, made sure he was comfy, and sealed the device. We could see his eyes behind a little plex plate, but that was the only evidence that a human being was inside that bizarre creation.
"All right, stand by, Two. Just don't move while the measurements are being made. The device hissed ominously and then snapped apart, freeing Scout. He stepped out calmly.
"Your A-suit will be ready shortly. Please wait until we've done everyone, thank you. Next!"
We were all fitted for A-suits. When they did me, I had fantasies about striding through burning cities, lashing out at everything I saw, invulnerable in my A-suit.
When they brought us into the room labeled ISSUANCE, I stopped abruptly when I saw what was in there. It was a gigantic hall full of A-suits. They were all lined up in squads, platoons and companies, standing at attention, mute and terrifying. The armor was a deep matte black with only a few identifying marks to tell the units apart. The faceplates were a deep dark ruby red, concealing whatever creatures from Hell might have been lurking inside. It was like an army from the past, the phantom Legion, brutally real, radiating a cold, merciless menace, all set to come to life again, all set for another war, all set to lay waste to the living and avenge the dead.
"All right, gentlemen, suit up," one of the techs said. "We will help anyone who encounters problems. This is your row, and the squad designations are on the upper left arm." I found my suit – D6 Prophet, it said. We had studied the A-suit in depth before encountering a real one, so we were ready.
When we were all suited up, we strode out of the room and picked up our E's at the main door and walked out of the building and marched right down Ironbound Avenue, E's clipped to our chestplates. My A-suit fit me like a glove. Biostats and commo status and the tacmod and tacmaps and med readouts were displayed in little rectangles on my faceplate. We were all quiet, marching along the road like armored gods, marching for the Legion, marching for ConFree. It was kind of scary. D6 – I was Delta 6, the Prophet, an invincible Legion warrior. Richard Rains was gone, never to return. I could see how you could get carried away wearing one of these party suits. I tried to calm down but damn, it felt good.
Δ
One more visit to Medical. We didn't even ask what it was all about. I had the feeling that Basic was ending and they were tying up loose ends but what did I know? They hadn’t told us when the course was to end. We were into six months already and Year 379 was almost over.
An icy wave tingled on my right arm and a silent medic shot me with a painless injection gun. That's it? We returned to the main entrance, picked up our E's, and stepped out into the sunlight. Doggie was waiting for us there.
"Welcome back," he said. "You are now immortal. Welcome to the future." The IG, I thought. They had just given us the Immortality Gene. Tying up loose ends, preparing the troops for a long career.
Immortal. I will never age. Eternal youth – Ponce de Leon's ancient quest, successful at last. Of course it doesn't protect you from getting your head blown off, or getting yourself sliced in two by a laser. There is an endless list of dead immortals on the Legion Monument. Maybe that's your immortality. Yes – immortality and death – that's what the Legion offers.
Δ
"All right, go on in," Doggie said. "I don't care what you do in there, but just keep quiet and respect the surroundings. Come out when you please." We were at the chapel. It was a pretty large chapel, and it was part of the program. Doggie had brought us there, the whole squad. I don't know if Doggie was a believer or not, but he was doing his job.
We slipped in one by one, silent, leaving our E's outside. It was dark in there – cool air. No, a soft multicolored glow was gently lighting up the interior. My eyes were drawn to the great silvery Legion cross on the wall, and the massive black horizontal slab under it. White letters were flowing slowly right to left along the slab – names, numbers. Above the names, little full-color portraits. Faces – young faces. Males, females, looking hopefully into the future. Stained glass windows let in colorful beams of light.
There was a long horizontal arm rest over a padded knee rest that stretched almost wall to wall. A few troopers were kneeling there, eyes closed, or just looking out blankly at the list of names.
The Monument to the Dead. I kneeled. What else could I do? I wanted to see what it was like. Some other squadies were doing the same. I knew the Legion was not religious. Deadman was just a symbolic representation of all the immortals who had died for the Legion, for ConFree – and for me.
I forced myself to look at the moving list. A Legion Cross, a young kid with sandy hair and a big smile, the unit designation 6/12, his serial number 320017312, his squad position Echo 4, warname Spider, date 278/08/19 – over a hundred years ago! – and the final line: DIED IN SERVICE. Then he disappeared, off the slab, but there were plenty of other souls following him. More portraits, more info, more dates. I stopped focusing. It was peaceful and quiet.
Bees knelt beside me, eyes closed, praying. Just whispering, barely audible. This time I could hear what she was saying.
"Angel of God my guardian dear,
To whom His love entrusts me here,
/> Ever this night be at my side,
To light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen."
She opened her eyes, and made a sign over her face, something like a Legion cross, but not a Legion cross. A single tear slid down one cheek and she angrily rubbed it away. Then she got up and left.
Somebody described the Monument to the Dead as a chapel for soldiers without souls. Well, I disagree with that. And I don't care what anybody else says.
Δ
"This thing is amazing," Arie said. He was gazing into a little d-screen perched on the table between us, and it was, indeed, amazing. We were in a quiet dox shop in the heart of Providence City, although it was more like a charming little provincial town than a city. It was our first time in Providence proper, which was several K away from the base. We were both wearing formal black Legion uniforms. It felt strange. We had just finished with Hell Week, which topped off our Legion training. It was a week of total agony, unending pain, hatred and terror and frustration and utter exhaustion, marching without end, crawling through the mud with live rounds ripping over your head, dragging huge ammopacks with you, rescuing your buddies, carrying them out of danger, climbing steep mountains, leaping off cliffs, swimming icy streams like a snake, no sleep, battling soaring temperatures that dropped me like a stone from heat prostration, crawling through wet underground tunnels on the verge of caving in, climbing up ropes, rappelling down buildings, advancing under fire, clearing a town…it went on for a week, but nobody quit. Nobody. Everybody in Delta had made it. Even me.
"Look at that," Arie continued. "That's the Target A residence. The eyemote is locked on Target A right now, but we can switch to Target B whenever we want. Where did you get this thing?"
Prophet of ConFree (The Prophet of ConFree) Page 10
