Max “the Swede” Teller was from Norway and would have been the perfect lead in a movie about Vikings. Dean could just imagine the beefy corporal in a fur-lined vest wielding a broadsword on the deck of a longship. Teller’s file told the opposite story of Owanto’s, he was a quiet man, but a ferocious fighter, one that did his job without complaint no matter what he was called on to do. Dean felt lucky to have both of them and was anxious to see how they fit in with the rest of his Heavy Armor Specialists.
The third man was completely different. Most Demolitions Specialists were well built in their own right, although they didn’t have the hulking muscles of their Heavy Armor counterparts. But Robb Landin wasn’t large. He stood just five feet, six inches tall, and had the wiry build of a lightweight boxer.
“Any questions?” Dean asked.
“No sir!” all three replied in unison.
“Alright, at ease,” Dean said as he opened the schematic on his desktop. “Enlisted quarters are here, in the northern corridor. Four man rooms with your own head. Go ahead and get settled in, the rest of the platoon is already here. At 1300 hours I want everyone assembled in the briefing theater on Alpha deck. Take the time to study the layout of the ship. Mess hall is on Charlie deck, but you’ll spend most of your time down on Alpha. We have new weapons and new armor, so this won’t be a pleasure cruise. Dismissed!”
The three men shuffled quickly out of the room and Dean returned to his seat and pulled up the training report he was working on. He was excited to get started using the new weapons and utilizing the facilities on board the Apache. Once they were underway each day would begin with PT, a general workout for everyone. HA would utilize the cardio equipment while everyone else focused on strength training. After breakfast the platoon would spend the morning training together in the VR dome. They had a lot to learn, new weapons, new armor, and new tactics. Dean had already outlined a strategy in case the ship was infiltrated. They would work out the details of that strategy, as well as personal protection drills, and focus on building cohesion with the new members of the platoon. They hadn’t been together very long as a unit, but their experiences on Rome Three and in the Alrakis system had forged strong bonds. Dean was anxious to see how the newcomers would fit into his platoon.
The start of a new tour was always exciting, but before Dean could join his platoon, he had to report with the other ship’s officers for a briefing on their mission in the ward room. It had been cleaned and returned to its normal state after the party the night before. Dean took the lift up to Charlie deck and moved quickly toward the ward room. Along one wall were the standard beverage dispensaries. Coffee, tea, water, and the fruit amino punch were there for the taking. Dean filled a sports bottle with the energy drink and took his seat at the long table across from Captain Parker. They both had the same rank, and were in the same branch of service, but Parker had more experience and was considered to be the senior Recon officer on board. Yet her duty on the Apache was completely different from Dean’s. He was in charge of the Recon platoon, while she was an advisor to Admiral Masterson. Her duty was to observe the operation of the ship, Dean’s platoon, and most importantly, the Kroll. If combat was necessary, she would lend her expertise to Admiral Masterson, but she wouldn’t take part in any fighting herself unless the ship was boarded. That didn’t mean she couldn’t put her expertise to good use, and Dean was determined to convince her to join him on Alpha deck.
“I was hoping you might have time to train with the platoon in the afternoons,” Dean said, leaning his elbows onto the long, wooden table. “HA Specialists will be weight training, and the rest of us can take turns between weapons to focus on hand to hand, if you can spare the time.”
“Spare the time?” Captain Parker said with a smirk. “For the next three weeks I’ll be sitting on my ass all day. I’d love to help.”
“Great, that’s perfect,” Dean said, leaning back in his seat just as Admiral Masterson stepped to the front of the table.
He gestured for everyone to quiet down before speaking. A hologram that showed a long interstellar space route appeared in the air over the table.
“This is our route to the Urgglatta home world,” the admiral said. “We’ve already completed our resupply and undocking procedures. We’ll be on the EsDef network for the next two hours, then we’ll be out of the system.”
“Two hours to get out of the heliosphere?” asked one of the O&A Lieutenants. Dean saw the man’s name was Browne.
“Yes, we’re taking a little extra time to make sure all communications have a chance to be logged,” the admiral continued. “Once we’re out of the system we’ll be in FTL for three weeks. There shouldn’t be too much to do, but I don’t want anyone getting complacent. We’ve taken the Apache as far out as the Omega system, but I still want to keep an eye on all our systems. We may have to leave just as quickly as we arrive and I don’t want to get caught with our pants down. Let’s get schedules submitted ASAP, keep your people busy. This is an historic mission people, I don’t think I need to remind you of that. Let’s bring our A game and do everything by the numbers. No shortcuts, no slacking. Not on this mission. Are we clear?”
“Yes sir,” the response from around the table was unanimous.
“I hope you all had a chance to meet Captain Blaze,” the admiral continued. “We’re fortunate to have his platoon on board. They’ve taken the fight to the Kroll, and if we run into trouble we’re going to be glad we’ve got their expertise. I’ve asked Dean to work up a new boarding strategy. We know that the tactics for the Kroll include taking control of other ships, and while we should be able to fend off any attempts to take over the Apache, I want us ready if we are boarded. Once that plan is finalized I expect every department to run drills. I will conduct shipwide exercises for this very purpose, so get your people ready. Are there any questions?”
There were none, and the admiral dismissed everyone. Dean finished his drink and refilled his bottle before making his way down to Alpha deck. His platoon was already there checking out the Recon facilities.
“Ten hut!” Chavez shouted when he caught sight of Dean.
“As you were,” Dean said loud enough for everyone to hear him, before speaking just to Chavez. “Staff Sergeant, how was Luna?”
“Damn fine vacation, sir,” Chavez replied shaking Dean’s hand. “I hope you got a little down time.”
“Enough,” Dean said. “What do you think of our new Specialists?”
“So far so good, jefe. I can’t wait to get into that training room and see what they’re made of.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Dean said. “Why wait? Let’s suit up and try out the new toys.”
“You serious?” Chavez asked.
“No time like the present,” Dean replied. “We’ve got new weapons and I want to make sure everyone knows how to use them.”
“Yes sir,” Chavez replied, before shouting to the platoon. “Wolfpack, to the ready room! Suit up, we start training right now. Move, move, move!”
Dean watched as his platoon got into their armor and collected their training weapons from the storage compartment just outside the VR training dome. When they were all inside he joined them, closing the door behind him. He was wearing his TCU but no armor. In the corner of his vision the activation icon for the training program waited patiently for his attention, but he was focused on his platoon. They were back at full strength, and he couldn’t see faces, but he recognized most of his people just by the shape of their body or the way they stood.
Ghost was at attention, but he looked so casual he could be standing on a street corner waiting for public transport to carry him to his next destination. The hulking Heavy Armor squad looked powerful. Out of their armor they were taller than the rest of the platoon except for Staff Sergeant Chavez, who had once been a Heavy Armor Specialist himself. In their armor, they were even taller, their mechanized armor was made to fit each man, and the new plasma cannons that were in the offline position over thei
r shoulders made them seem even more intimidating than normal. His Fast Attack Specialists were both women, and Sergeant Emily Harper and Corporal Kathryn Valosky looked like twins in their battle armor. Beside them stood Eleanor Tallgrass and Robb Landin, both carrying their heavy packs that would be full of munitions to resupply the entire platoon. Dean couldn’t help but wonder how his team would fare as the military escort for the diplomats, or if they would even have a chance to find out. For all he knew, the Kroll would destroy their ship as soon as they entered the Urgglatta system.
“Platoon,” Dean said, using the comlink so that he was certain everyone could hear him. “It’s good to be together again. We have a new ship, a new mission, new toys, and new additions to our team. I’m sure you’ve all met, but let me introduce HA Sergeant Emile Owanto, and Corporal Max Teller. In demolitions we have Corporal Robb Landin.”
Dean paused, letting his thoughts organize in his mind before continuing.
“The E.S.D.F. Apache is a new ship in our fleet. It’s a stealth vessel, built for surveillance and speed.”
“Is she fast enough to keep up with the Kroll, sir?” Adkins asked.
“That’s what she was built for, Corporal,” Dean said, hoping the new ship really was fast enough to match their new foe’s extraordinary speed. “But we are not on a military mission. We aren’t taking the fight to the Kroll.”
No one spoke, but their body language was clear enough. If they weren’t on a military mission, what were they doing on the new ship?
“EsDef brass has decided that we have to give diplomacy a chance,” Dean said. “Therefore, on this mission, we will be traveling to the Urgglatta home world where we hope to have the opportunity to begin peace talks with the Kroll.”
“Sir,” Chavez said, “may I speak?”
“Of course, Staff Sergeant.”
“We’ll do whatever you order us to do, no questions, no hesitation. But personally, I think peace talks are a waste of time.” There was plenty of agreement among the other members of the platoon.
“Be that as it may, we have our orders,” Dean said. “We’re to escort the diplomats aboard this ship when they make an effort to contact the Kroll. If all goes as planned, this will be the most boring tour of your lives.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Tallgrass asked.
“Then we’re in for the fight of our lives,” Dean said, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “We will train for the worst case scenario. We will be prepared to fight to the last Specialist to protect our diplomats. We will show the Kroll that we are not to be trifled with. We are Force Recon. If they do not respect our efforts for peace, we will give them a fight they will never forget. I expect each and every one of you to exercise self-control and discipline. We will not provoke or engage the Kroll unless they force our hand, but if that time comes, we will show them no mercy. Is that clear?”
“Yes sir!” the platoon said in perfect unison.
“Excellent,” Dean said. “Now, let’s shoot these new guns.”
Chapter 28
Dean brought up the firing range and divided the platoon into two groups. The Heavy Armor Specialists didn’t carry the new EMR rifles, but everyone else in the platoon did. It only took a few minutes to have everyone firing at targets. The Heavy Armor Specialists dropped into their defensive stances, activating the plasma cannons which swiveled around, and opened fire at their own targets. The simulation was perfect in almost every way. The sound of the weapons, which was different from the utility cannons the Specialists were accustomed to, and the recoil and damage caused by the plasma bursts were accurate representations of the new weapons. What couldn’t be replicated was the heat, but Dean was still thrilled to notice that the Heavy Armor Specialists had a temperature gauge on their HUD.
The plasma cannons were incredibly powerful at close range. Dean watched in awe as the metal targets set up twenty-five feet from the HA line were vaporized in seconds. At fifty feet the effect of the plasma was less potent. The metal targets burned and melted wherever they took multiple hits.
Dean was more familiar with the EMR rifles, but he enjoyed watching as his platoon fired their new weapons. Ghost was especially pleased. Within minutes he was hitting targets that were seven hundred and fifty feet away with accuracy. The other specialists concentrated on using their weapons between one hundred and three hundred feet out. Getting a feel for the rifles was important, as was learning to pop the magazines that held the tungsten projectile rounds in and out of the rifle’s pistol grip.
After everyone had familiarized themselves with their new weapons Dean assembled the platoon into formation for massed firing at multiple targets.
“Platoon,” Dean said, there was no need to shout since the comlink in their battle armor carried his voice perfectly to each Specialist, “form up on me. Static, Talon, Beak, Saber, Engage!”
The Heavy Armor Specialists formed a straight line facing Dean, the large hydrogen-titanium shields overlapping to form a protective barrier between the platoon and their virtual foes. Ghost, Tallgrass, Landin, Harper, and Valosky all took places close to the HA Specialists, their own rifles held up to their shoulders and pointing over the wall of shields. Staff Sergeant Chavez moved to Dean’s left side, his weapon held ready.
“Heavy Armor will focus fire on ground targets,” Dean announced. “Everyone else prepare for aerial attack.”
With a wink Dean activated the training program that sent dark red clay targets hurling into the air and across the ground in front of his platoon. The targets came from every direction, some moving quickly, others more slowly. Some of the targets were large, requiring several shots to destroy, and some were small. Shots that didn’t hit the targets in the designated kill spot often changed the trajectory of the clay disks, making the platoon’s job even more difficult. Dean watched his Specialists work, while stats on the accuracy and effectiveness of every member scrolled across Dean’s HUD.
The Heavy Armor Specialists with their plasma cannons obliterated everything that crossed the virtual reality ground in front of them until their weapons began to overheat. Dean didn’t comment. He could hear the HA Specialists talking on the platoon channel, learning to use their weapons in a concerted effort to take out the targets rather than simply mowing everything down with rapid fire that would deplete their weapon loads and lead to heat-related malfunctions. Sergeant Owanto took the lead, calling out targets and ensuring that everyone kept a careful watch on their heat gauges.
The rest of the platoon worked feverishly to shoot the flying targets. Their marksmanship was very high until they had to reload their rifles. Dean was disappointed that the simple act of popping the magazines out of their gun, and sliding new ones into the primary grip caused them to fumble around and lose the disciplined firing techniques his platoon usually displayed as they struggled to hit the targets getting away from them.
“That’s enough,” Dean said, shutting down the program. “Check those weapons.”
“Clear chambers!” Chavez shouted. “Safeties on.”
“Good work for the first day,” Dean said. “As you can see, we have some work to do with these new weapons. But we have time to do that. I want armor and weapons stowed, then get some food and some rest. This isn’t a pleasure cruise and we will be training daily. I’ll post the schedule tonight. Once you have everything put away properly, you are free for the rest of the evening. Dismissed.”
Dean didn’t stick around. He had plenty of data to look over. Once he was back in his quarters he settled in behind his new desk and brought up the stats from the training room. The computerized program kept track of every weapon and target. He knew who shot what and when, how fast they responded, how accurate they were with their weapons, and who needed improvement.
The EMR rifles were powerful weapons, but everyone in the platoon needed to improve their handling of the lightweight guns except for Ghost. He had dialed in the accuracy of his rifle and hadn’t been bothered by the smaller magazine
s or the reloading process. His marksmanship was incredible, the stats were so good Dean almost wondered if it was an error, but he knew his sniper well enough to know that Ghost was a weapons virtuoso. Shooting was second nature to the man, which was why he remained a sergeant instead of taking a promotion which would require him to give up his guns in favor of blades and hand-to-hand combat as a Close Combat Specialist.
Dean spent the next two hours working on specific training regimens for each specialty. Ghost would oversee the marksmanship training, Chavez would be in charge of PT, and Captain Parker would teach close combat. It would be a productive three weeks as they traveled to the Urgglatta system and Dean was certain his platoon would be in top shape by the time they arrived. He was just about to post their training schedule when his wrist link vibrated to alert him that a message was waiting for him. His heartbeat sped up in the hope that the message was from Esma, but instead it was a summons by Admiral Masterson, who needed to see Dean on the bridge.
Dean sighed, then shook off his disappointment. He knew hearing from Esma again was a long shot. He checked his fatigues, then made his way up to Charlie deck and around the atrium to the bridge where the doors were open. Dean saw that only a third of the stations were being manned. He knew enough about naval procedures to understand that the officers on a ship worked in shifts unless there was a reason for them all to be present at the same time. Still, it seemed a bit odd to see so many empty consoles as the ship began its journey. On the wall behind the admiral, which was in fact a large vid screen, Dean saw Earth and Space Base 13 receding behind the Apache.
Embracing Oblivion: Wolfpack Book 3 Page 17
