We Are The Wolf: Wolfpack Book 1

by Toby Neighbors

  "One moment, Ensign Blaze," a voice said in the internal speaker. "Calibration of the PID is currently in progress."

  A green bar appeared at the bottom of Dean's field of view and slowly began extending to the right. He couldn't help but look around his small cabin on the space station. Everything seemed crisper, more real than without the helmet. The device itself was light and while snug around his head, not tight. There were thick cushions around the crown of his head and over his ears. Cooling gel inserts kept the foam from getting hot during use, and the sound was state of the art.

  "Calibration complete. Welcome to the Force Recon training program," the helmet said. "I am an interactive training simulation that will outline the standard operating procedures for Recon platoon deployment, tactics, and warfare. You may ask me questions at any point for clarification."

  "I can ask questions?" Dean said in surprise.

  "That is correct. I will do my best to ensure that the material in my program is fully assimilated, Ensign Blaze. Would you like to begin?"

  "Oh, sure," Dean said.

  "For training purposes, please respond to my questions as you would to a superior officer," the voice said calmly. "Shall we try again?"

  "Yes, sir," Dean said.

  He was both surprised and a little amused at the program's adherence to military discipline. Not that he minded calling the program sir, although it did sound odd to his own ears when he said it.

  "Excellent, let's begin with the PID basics. This unit is programed to keep up with your training and allow for extensive testing so that the tactics taught are fully understood. Shall I begin a demonstration?"

  "Yes, sir," Dean said.

  "Excellent."

  The view screen dimmed in the center of Dean's field of view. A video began to play. Dean saw a platoon of Force Recon soldiers deploying from an automated drop ship onto what looked like a colony world.

  "This is actual footage from Recon Platoon 488, the Butcher Brigade as they were called," the program said as the picture froze. "This is the standard viewing option, which allows the wearer to still see his or her surroundings. You can pause and change the opacity of the picture by blinking twice in rapid succession. In this PID, as in standard Recon armor helmets, blinking is referred to as clicking and the operation of the view screen is universal. Please try this feature now."

  Dean blinked twice, and the picture faded almost completely away. He could see right through the picture and had to focus to make out the video of the platoon rather than the objects in his cabin.

  "Click twice again and the video will resume."

  Dean blinked twice and the video immediately came to life, the rich colors were vibrant even against the bright LED lighting in his cabin.

  "Winking your right eye, otherwise known as right clicking, will enlarge the image. Winking with your left eye, otherwise known as left clicking, will shrink the image. Please test both of these commands now."

  Dean marveled at the intuitive nature of the device. Things made sense and were easy to control. The helmet responded to facial commands, voice commands, and, according to the program, hand motions when they were in the field of view of the helmet. Dean could stop, rewind, fast forward, change the picture location, picture size, and volume of the videos. He could also zoom in on the picture, which he did until he could read the name devices adhered to the rear of the soldiers’ left shoulders.

  "This is a standard deployment phase for Force Recon," the voice said.

  Dean had already darkened the screen around the video so the ambient light from his room didn't distract him from the video. The soldiers formed a slightly curved line, with six heavily armored men creating a wall by lining up shoulder to shoulder and dropping to one knee. On either end of the line were soldiers who looked almost like robots. Each one had various drone attack craft on their arms, legs, and backs. The platoon commander was behind the wall created by the armored soldiers and began giving orders to the others.

  There were two soldiers with heavy-looking ordinance cases strapped to their armor on the lieutenant's right side. On his left were two more soldiers. One carried a long rifle with a massive scope. She had what looked to Dean like a jet pack on the back of her armor. The other soldier had a variety of small arms weapons, including a large knife strapped to one thigh. The solider was a staff sergeant, Dean recognized the chevrons on the man's shoulder armor, which was much lighter than that of the rest of the platoon.

  For the next hour the teaching program went over the various specialties of each soldier. Dean learned what each soldier was assigned to do from brief explanations given by the program. There were Heavy Armor specialists, Fast Attack specialists, Demolition experts, a Sniper, and a Close Quarters Combat Specialist. Because Dean would be spending time in training with each of the different specialty types, the program quickly moved on to the responsibilities of the commanding officer.

  "Force Recon platoons are led by lieutenants who specialize in field communications and fire control. This means that you will have to become an expert in situational tactics so that you can command and assist the men and women under your command. You will also be required to maintain contact with the Navy vessel from which your platoon deployed, or from the Forward Operating Base in large group exercises."

  The responsibilities of a platoon lieutenant made sense to Dean, although he was struck again by just how much he had to learn.

  "Most of those duties can be carried out using your Tactical Control Unit, of which this PID is a replica. Learning to use the features of your PID will give you the ability to carry out your leadership responsibilities in the field."

  Dean spent the entire evening working his way through the user guide of the automated teaching helmet. When he finally finished and pulled the helmet from his head he felt almost the way he had when he had first experienced the gravity of the space base after being in zero-G. The world seemed a little less perfect. The light wasn't quite bright enough, his own vision seemed somehow less sharp.

  He ran his fingers over the stubble of his recently shaven head and then placed the PID on a shelf in his small locker. The clothes he had soiled working out had already been laundered and replaced. He looked down at his tablet, which was blinking with a new message. When he opened the interface he saw that his progress on the helmet had been recorded. He would meet with the other ensigns at 0745 the next morning, when he would be given his next assignment with the PID.

  When he checked the time on his wrist link, it read 2300 hours. He had spent the entire evening training on the PID. It was an addictive device, but as he laid down on his small bunk he realized just how isolated his training was. He had always enjoyed solitude, but that was by choice. He couldn't help but feel that the powers at work crafting his training were intentionally keeping him isolated. As he lay on his bunk, thinking about his family down on Earth, he couldn't help but wonder just how difficult his life was becoming. In some ways, serving in EsDef was even more exciting than he had imagined. But in other ways, he felt cut off from the very people he would be fighting to protect and he couldn't help but wonder if that was intentional.

  Chapter 9

  It took time to adjust to being on a space base. The first few days were hard physically. Dean pushed himself in PT just to be able to keep up with Captain Parker's combat training, but the bruised and sore muscles made it difficult. The immersive training of his PID was fascinating at first, but the program was unforgiving. With each lesson it required Dean to role play in different scenarios. It was in some ways the most realistic video game he had ever played, but the consequences of wrong decisions ended drastically for the virtual teams he was leading. And he was forced to drill using different tactics over and over until he was ready to scream.

  What made the environment even more difficult was the fact that he was confined to what was essentially a very small space on the base. One corridor, the training room, classroom, and mess hall. There was no time for leisure, and
while the other ensigns had friends to decompress with, Dean was alone. He saw the ensigns from other branches gathering in rooms to play cards, or gossip, while his only escape was staring out of the transparent wall of his own room.

  The other ensigns gave Dean a wide berth, as if he were already a hardened combat veteran. They lowered their voices whenever he walked by, and never invited him to join them for a meal or game of cards, or even to just study some of the materials they were learning all together at the beginning of each day.

  Dean understood the need for officers to learn the history and traditions of the EsDef, but it didn't take long for the stress he felt to build up inside him. He was like a bomb about to explode, only instead of an explosion he feared he would just break down mentally, curl up in a ball, unable to stop weeping, and be sent home in disgrace.

  The only way to blow off steam was to exercise. Dean's body was already on the lean side, but he was packing on muscle during his morning PT sessions. The machines on the base were state of the art, allowing Dean to work each group of muscles in concert or individually. His sparing sessions with Captain Parker grew intense. He put all of his strength and energy into learning how to fight on his feet, or on the ground. Learning how to fight was of great interest to Dean, but the captain was like a force of nature. Nothing Dean did ever surprised her, and finding a weakness in her technique was impossible. She repeatedly forced him into a losing position, or knocked him off his feet. She was fast, strong, and relentless, which allowed Dean to put all of his frustrations into the training. Afterward he felt better, a little less pent up and more at ease with his situation. But as quickly as the feelings of relief came, they were almost always swept away when he stepped out of the training room.

  On the eighth day of his training at the academy, he couldn't summon the will to continue. After sitting in his room staring at the view screen, he went to his training session with Captain Parker and told her exactly how he felt.

  "I'm done," he said. "I can't do this anymore."

  "You can't do what, ensign."

  "I can't keep training like this."

  "You have an injury?" she asked.

  "No, I'm not injured, I'm just tired."

  "Is that why you didn't work through your PID lessons today?"

  "Look, I'm not cut out for this. I thought I was. I really wanted to be, but I'm going crazy in here. No one talks to me. The training is relentless. I don't know what I'm doing or even if I can do it."

  "Quitting isn't an option," Captain Parker said. She wasn't being compassionate, her tone was completely neutral. "Nothing matters in Force Recon more than completing the mission."

  "What if I can't? I feel like I'm going insane."

  "And you think that makes you different from any other ensign that comes through the program? Are you lonely, Ensign Blaze? Do you need a hug? Maybe you need a booty call, or to get drunk, or to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on your face. Well, forget it. Those things don't exist for an officer in Force Recon. This isn't some Hollywood movie where the brave soldier saves the damsel in distress. We are the tip of the spear, Blaze. That spear is a weapon, and it is used to kill anyone or anything that might endanger the human race. Do you think drones win wars? Do you think robots are the salvation of our species? If you believe that bullshit you're out of your mind. We are the men and women who stand between humanity and whatever horrors there are across the galaxy.

  "Now, stop your crying and get your mind right. You are an officer, Blaze. You will lead troops into the heart of danger, on worlds so far from our home that we can't even fathom the distance. A tiny room in a fragile space ship will be your berth for months on end. The soldiers you command will be anxious, tense, and sometimes even crazy. It's your job to lead them, to motivate them, and pull them together even when everything around you is falling apart. And make no mistake, the soldiers under your command will be brothers and sisters in arms, a family bound together by the rigors of training and the horrors of combat, but you will never be part of that family. Your troops may love you, they might fight like hell for you, but they can never really know you, ensign. They cannot be allowed to see your stress, or your uncertainty.

  "You were selected for service, and that means you have what it takes to find a way to deal with your shit, pull yourself together, and do what has to be done. You need to find that way right now, otherwise good people will die."

  "I don't know how," Dean said. "I've never felt so alone."

  "What's wrong with being alone?" Captain Parker said. "Other people need human contact because they're broken. They're the sheep, flocking together, following blindly as long as they don't have to be alone."

  "And we're the shepherds."

  Captain Parker laughed, it was a bright sound that lifted Dean's spirits. It was the first time he'd heard laughter since arriving at the space base that didn't make him feel self-conscious, as if people were laughing at him.

  "No, Dean, we're not the shepherds. We're the wolf."

  Chapter 10

  Captain Parker didn't try to explain herself further, she just launched into an aggressive attack that forced Dean to fight. He felt sluggish at first, but the captain didn't pull her punches and soon Dean was scrambling to avoid or counter the blows. When she finally managed to sweep his legs, she dropped onto him, but he used her momentum to roll her over and scramble back to his feet.

  Getting hit by Captain Parker was painful, but as strong and fast as she was on her feet, she was even more deadly grappling on the ground. She was so flexible and strong that once she had taken hold of Dean she wouldn't give up or let go. She reminded him of a dog fighting over a bone, refusing to give up until she got what she wanted.

  Dean had to keep moving. Time meant nothing. His heart was racing and his arms felt heavy, but he knew if he tried to look up at the chrono on the wall she would strike him. Sweat dripped from his face, and soaked into the utility fatigues he was still wearing, having not changed into the compression shirt and pants he usually wore for their sparring sessions.

  Eventually she got him down, countering every move he tried to put her in, and forcing him to twist and squirm until she got his back. He felt her powerful arms encircling his throat. He forced his hand between her forearm and his throat. He had to turn his head to keep her from choking him out. His heart was thundering in his chest and his muscles were quivering as her legs locked around him and slowly began to squeeze like a boa constrictor.

  Dean had always enjoyed playing chess, and sparring with Captain Parker often reminded him of the game. He knew there were only so many moves before she would have him in such a compromising position that he would have to give up. The only move he had left to him at that moment was to try and twist his body toward hers, but even if that move was successful, she would have the leverage to mount him and rain down punches and elbows that would pummel him into submission.

  Only when he turned she didn't try to stop him and instead of pushing her away he held her tight. For a moment they didn't move, both parties covered in sweat and on the verge of exhaustion. He could feel her breath on his neck. Her arms were still around his head, and if he wasn't careful she could lock her arms together to cut off the oxygen to his brain. He knew he should have tried to slip his arm between hers to give him the leverage to push her up and off of his trembling body, but instead he just held her, and she let him. For a long moment they lay locked together, breathing each other in, letting their aching bodies rest. And then her lips moved to his, and Dean felt a thrill as his desire rose to a furious heat within him. Then she squeezed and he felt his throat constrict.

  "Don't be so easy to..."

  The words faded as his vision blurred for one panicked moment, and then Dean passed out. When he came to, a moment later, Captain Parker was off of him, and he lay on the training mat gasping for air.

  "That's enough for today, Blaze," Captain Parker said. "I'm not your safety valve. If you feel like you need something, then you sure
as shit better find a way to get it. And if you cross any lines trying to feel something you’re missing, don't get caught. The major is a stickler for discipline and a little sadistic when it comes to punishment."

  Dean was still trying to catch his breath and didn't respond. Nor did he look up as Captain Parker left the training room. He felt like a fool, and at the same time he felt a flicker of hope. In a sense he was imprisoned on the space base, but that didn't mean he had to obey every rule handed down by his superiors. He was the wolf, and the call to be wild was strong inside him. He had never felt the need to rebel growing up, but he knew if he was going to finish his training something would have to change. If the routine and restrictions couldn't change, then he would have to. He could find a way to enjoy his life, to break up the monotony and stress of his training. It was his new mission, and Force Recon never failed.

  Chapter 11

  Over the next few days, Dean outlined what he needed. He was young, single, but busy. A sexual relationship, while certainly enticing, also ran the greatest risk of discovery and unwanted entanglements. He wasn't looking to find a lover, but a friend would be a great reprieve to the pressure he felt from his duties.

  None of the other ensigns showed any interest in Dean, and he didn't mind that. He realized that while he missed having some companionship, he actually enjoyed the mystery his fellow trainees viewed him with. His days were extremely full, the training intense, but the weakness in his schedule was meal times. He had to eat, but there were no restrictions on where he could eat. The kitchen area was officially out of bounds for the trainees, but it wasn't a classified area and getting into the row of storerooms, prep areas, dishwashing stations, and cooking galleys wasn't difficult.