We Are The Wolf: Wolfpack Book 1

by Toby Neighbors

  "What's the word, LT?" said Raines.

  "Command is sending another transport, but we've got to clear the enemy fighters or they won't land. The new LZ is on top of the butte."

  "How the hell are we going to do that?" Adkins said.

  "I don't know yet," Dean said. "Let me think."

  The sniper fire was slowing down. Dean tapped into Raines' video targeting data, looking for the enemy fighters on the ground. He was desperately trying to decide if they were seriously being attacked, or if it was just part of the training. They hadn't actually completed the course yet. The final beacon was where the transport had exploded. He weighed his options, considering whether to simply charge across the finish line and hope that whoever was shooting at them wouldn't kill them once they finished the objective. It didn't make sense for EsDef to destroy a perfectly good transport, Dean reasoned. It didn't make sense that anyone would attack them either. There was still conflict between the nations on Earth, not even the colonization of new worlds had stopped that, but everyone supported EsDef. Every nation, big or small, contributed funds and personnel. Who would be attacking them, Dean wondered?

  He couldn't risk his men by betting that the enemy fighters wouldn't hurt them. He needed to get them out of the area to get his squad home safe, and there was only one way to do that.

  "We're going up that butte," Dean said. "We take out their snipers and if we're lucky we pick up a few weapons in the process."

  "That's crazy," Adkins said.

  "No it isn't," Dean insisted. "This is exactly what we train for. Your Heavy Armor is made for this. They have the firepower but we still have the advantage because they can't stop us. We'll push them off that plateau if we have to. Now form up in Chevron, we're making for that butte at speed."

  "Yes, sir!" the trainees shouted.

  It only took a few seconds for the squad to form the aggressive V shape, and Dean had them moving toward the butte. More bullets came, pinging off the shields as the squad moved quickly in a backward jog, relying on their aiming camera to keep moving in the right direction.

  "They're setting up for a missile launch!" Wong shouted.

  "Keep moving," Dean ordered.

  "We aren't set up to endure a major impact, LT," Jenkins said.

  "I'm on it, keep moving," Dean said.

  He could see the foot soldiers. It looked like a demolition team of six men. They had two shoulder-mounted launchers which they were prepping to launch. Once they were clear of the smoke from the transport, Dean knew they would fire. But his squad was getting closer to the butte where they could add its cover to their defenses. It would help to get on the high ground as well.

  One of the men with the rocket launcher took a knee and Dean knew it was time to stop their progress.

  "Halt," Dean said, trying to sound calm. "Prepare for impact."

  The HA trainees knelt on the ground, using their powerful legs to brace the Heavy Armor shields. Dean took a position at the end of the V on the threatened side, locking his shield with Wong's and watching the enemy fire their rocket straight at them. Dean couldn't see the rocket, it was moving too fast, but the white contrail behind it was clear, then his audio shut down as the explosive impacted against their shield wall. Dean felt the impact, and when his audio came back on, he could hear his men cursing. One quick glance told Dean they had weathered the strike, but the other rocket launcher was preparing to fire.

  "Here comes the next one," Dean said in a grimly determined tone. "Hold the line!"

  "Yes, sir!" came the reply from all six trainees.

  The next shot wasn't aimed at the larger HA trainees, but at Dean on the end of the line. Dean's mouth went dry, and his mind locked his body in a paralysis of fear as he saw the trail streaking straight toward him. He wanted to run, to dive out of the missile's path, but his body wouldn't move. He couldn't even close his eyes.

  Then everything went dark, his visor tinting against the fiery explosion, his audio cutting off to save his hearing. He was in a dark bubble, his mind numb, and for a moment he thought that he was dead.

  "LT!" Adkins' voice crackled through the comm link. "You okay? Is he hurt?"

  Dean's vision came back, and there was black smoke rising from his shield. It was dented in the center, the training shield wasn't as strong as the regular HA gear.

  "I'm okay," Dean said in a shaky voice. "Let's move!"

  He tried to get up, but the dent in his shield made it impossible. The impact dampening system was damaged, and the tracks that allowed him to slide up into the shield's carrying harness wouldn't move.

  "LT?" Raines said.

  "My armor won't work," Dean said.

  "They're getting ready to fire again," Johnson said.

  "Concave formation," Dean shouted. "Give me a minute to get this damn shield off."

  He dug into the kit on his thigh pouch and pulled out the small wrench that would remove the massive bolts that held the shield in place. Adkins knelt by Dean's left side, his tools already in hand as he worked on the bolts opposite Dean.

  "What are you doing, Adkins?" Dean said.

  "I'm getting you out of this training armor, sir!" he shouted.

  "You should be in formation."

  "We don't have time, LT!" the big trainee said.

  Just as Dean got his first bolt out and was starting on the second another missile exploded against the Heavy Armor shield wall.

  "We okay?" Dean said when his audio kicked back in.

  "Five by five, LT," Raines said.

  "There!" Adkins announced as he pulled the shield off of Dean's back.

  The normally arched metal wasn't just dented, but there was impact damage going all the way through the thick shield, with charred, jagged edges around the hole.

  "Convex formation," Dean shouted. "We are moving up the plateau double quick. I'll take the lead. Stay on my ass."

  He was running before he really knew what he was doing. There was a wide, curving trail up the butte and Dean was sprinting toward it. The squad was right behind him, running forward was much faster than jogging backward to keep their shields facing forward. With the enemy at their rear, they could afford to add speed to their ascent.

  Another missile shot impacted the mountain not far from the HA trainees, blasting shards of rock into their shields and over their heads. One hot, jagged shard popped Dean on his cheekbone. He registered the hit, but his adrenaline kept him moving. It took the group a couple of minutes to reach the crest and Dean had them regroup before reaching the top.

  "Any sign of those rockets?" Dean asked.

  "No, they didn't try to keep up," Jenkins said.

  "Good, let's reform the Chevron and move in formation against the snipers. We can't let them flank us."

  "Yes, sir," the squad said in unison.

  As soon as they formed the V, Dean moved them forward, expecting to be hit with a barrage of sniper fire. The heavy caliber rifles would pack a more powerful punch at close range, but the group of snipers didn't open up on the squad. Instead of enemy fighters, there was a pavilion with picnic tables. Dean saw a large cooler, platters of sandwiches, and, most surprisingly, Captain Anderson along with the HA squad's instructor, Lieutenant Broyles, and a few more officers from Coronado.

  "Good work, squad, that was excellent," Broyles said. "The field exercise is over. Get out of that gear and get some chow. You've earned it."

  Anderson walked over to Dean with a smile.

  "See, I told you it would be fun," the captain said. "You've got a little something on your face."

  Dean reached up and felt the blood from the rock shard that struck his cheek. There was blood all the way to his chin. He looked at the blood on his fingers, still not quite believing that the exercise was over.

  "We better have a corpsman take a look at that," Anderson said as he led Dean to a bench under the awning.

  Dean sat heavily, fatigue weighing down his arms and legs as the adrenaline in his system began to bleed off. He
was tired, hungry, angry, and relieved all at the same time. The medics were a small division in the EsDef Navy, trained to serve as ship surgeons and field medics when needed. Dean had never seen one before, but the young man in white utility fatigues began swiping at the blood on Dean's face.

  "Three days is a damn fine score," Anderson said. "And in the rain to boot. I tell you what, I don't think anyone has done as well in the rain. Crossing the sand flats is actually quite dangerous, but you're a resourceful SOB."

  Dean felt numb to the praise of his superior. Part of him was really angry. They had fired at him with live ammunition. Something about that fact made him furious. The squad wasn't his, and yet he wouldn't have risked any one of their lives to prove a point, but Anderson had. Dean was so angry he wanted to punch the captain right in the mouth. But the other part of Dean was so relieved that it was all over that he actually wanted to cry. In the chaos of the mock battle Dean hadn't had time to be scared, but he realized once the danger was past that he had actually been terrified. It made him feel as though the EsDef had been completely wrong about him. He wasn't officer material, not even Recon specialist material, just a blubbering mass of nerves and uncertainty.

  "You'll be fine, ensign," the corpsman said, as he applied the last bandage. "You'll need stitches once we reach Coronado, but the scar will hardly be noticeable."

  "It's a good scar," Anderson said. "Better than any medal."

  "It was you shooting at us?" Dean finally asked, once he had found his voice again.

  "Yep," Anderson said. "Could have blown your head off for looking over the shield wall too. That'll bring your score down a bit, but don't worry, you passed with flying colors."

  "But the transport," Dean said. "You blew up a transport?"

  "Actually it was just an old hull. We use the same one over and over until the maintenance guys can't put it back together. That one's mostly just scrap metal and painted sheets of galvanized steel. They'll patch it back together and we'll send the next squad of trainees out when they're ready."

  "There are more ensigns?" Dean asked.

  "No, usually squads go with their instructors. We get new ensigns at a rate of one a season. But it’s a good test of leadership and we like to send ensigns out whenever we can."

  "I still can't believe it," Dean said, the terror finally easing and his rage dying down. "What was with the missile being shot at me?"

  "Well, that was the result of an overzealous squad of demo monkeys. They shouldn't have targeted you that way. It'll be in the report. Your training shield damn near had a catastrophic failure under direct fire from that RPG. But you took the shot like a champ."

  "Yes sir, that was textbook body bracing and response under fire," Lieutenant Broyles said. "If this officer shit doesn't work out you can come back and join HA."

  "Let's get some food in him," Anderson said, "he's earned it. Our ride back to Coronado will be here soon."

  Chapter 21

  The ride back to the EsDef base only took two hours and Dean realized that the transport had flown mostly in circles before dropping them off three days before. Dean was proud of what he'd accomplished, and proud of the squad, but when they got back to Coronado he was escorted to a debrief facility where he spent the next five hours going over every detail of the field exercise.

  Captain Anderson was there, as well as Major Jons, but they were passive observers for the most part. Three other EsDef officers, Administrative and Personnel specialists from the Operator branch of service, did the questioning via video link. They each filled up a large video panel, their faces so large Dean couldn't help but feel intimidated.

  "Why did you wait to get water instead of crossing the obstacle to the spring on the southern face of the ridge?" one asked.

  "It was early in the exercise and I didn't think risking the safety of my squad was worth it," Dean said.

  "Without water you would grow weak and die, how is getting your most vital resource not worth the risk, ensign?" the officer asked. She was an older woman, with deep lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. Her face seemed puffy and pale to Dean, but he tried not to focus merely on her appearance. The gold bars on her shirt collar only came into view every once in a while and Dean couldn't make out her rank.

  "Like I said it was early in the exercise. My objective was to get to the crest of the ridge and get the lay of the land. Had we not seen water from that vantage point I might have opted for going back and getting that resource."

  "The point of the exercise was to test the skills of the HA squad," said a black officer with a massive bald head. His nose was crooked, the result of a break, Dean guessed, at some point in his life. "You had more than enough time to engage in the challenge. It’s disappointing that you skipped it."

  "I didn't realize the purpose of the exercise was to test the squad. My orders were to get to the objective in as fast a manner as possible, while ensuring the safety of the squad."

  "Why did you remove your armor on the ridge top?" asked the third officer via the video link. It was a younger man who had a pointy face. Just looking at the video screen of the man made Dean uncomfortable.

  "It was the fastest way down the ridge," Dean said.

  "Speed wasn't the highest priority," the woman said, sounding put out.

  "It made sense in that instance. There was water not far from the bottom of the ridge," Dean said. "Speeding through the course might not have been important, but getting water for the squad was."

  "It was innovative," Major Jons said. "We've never had a squad sled down the mountain before."

  "It was dangerous," the woman complained. "On the verge of reckless in my opinion, Major. That squad could have come under fire at any point and without that armor they would have been slaughtered."

  "Under different circumstances I would never ask the HA trainees to remove their armor. I was operating under the idea that speed was our objective and the obstacles we would encounter on the field exercise would be geographic in nature. I wasn't expecting to come under enemy fire."

  The questioning went on and on. Dean felt like he was failing, but Captain Anderson kept nodding encouragingly to him. Major Jons was impassive, but occasionally he spoke up, adding his own opinions which were all very positive. When the debrief finally ended the video screen went dark and Dean was exhausted.

  "Welcome to Force Recon as an officer," the major said.

  "Yeah," Captain Anderson added. "Debriefs suck."

  "It's a necessary part of military operations. The debriefs should be thorough, but sometimes they turn into a bit of a witch hunt, especially when the outcome is unexpected."

  "What was unexpected?" Dean asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

  "No, not wrong," the major explained. "You did things differently, and that always throws a wrinkle into the oversight committee. Let's get some chow and then you can rest, you've earned it."

  Several of the other officers congratulated Dean on his field exercise, but he was so tired he hardly even remembered their praise the next morning. He spent his fourth day weapons training on their live fire range at Coronado. The HA utility canon was deadly, and Dean, outfitted with new training armor, was surprised at how much the weapon rocked him as it spit bursts of flechettes toward the targets. It was different from the simulated range. The programed effects paled in comparison to the live fire from the high output utility cannons.

  In the afternoon Dean met with Major Alphonse Gheridelli, a strategy and tactical expert. Gheridelli was painfully thin with a slight hump between his shoulder blades. His regulation haircut rose barely above his ears before becoming glossy, olive skin. His smile was broad and friendly.

  "Ensign Blaze, what a privilege," the major said when Dean entered the briefing room in the officers’ quarters. "I have been looking forward to this meeting since I read the report on your field exercise."

  "Thank you, sir," Dean said, not exactly sure what the major was so excited about.

  "P
lease, please, call me Al. I know it isn't regulation, but I'm really nothing but a school teacher. Here, sit down. Let's talk about your decisions in the desert."

  Dean felt his stomach tighten. He hadn't expected another debrief, and he couldn't help but feel like he was about to be ambushed.

  "I will start," Gheridelli said. "I study tactics and strategy for EsDef. Normally I take new officers through a week-long intensive after their specialty training at Coronado, but the issue we face in extra solar warfare is that our enemies rarely think like we do. They have different cultures and histories, different anatomy, and oftentimes different technology. Teaching our officers to advance against the enemy lines in this formation or that formation has its benefits, but in most encounters Force Recon troops must improvise. That is why I've been pushing for creative thinkers in the recruitment process, you see."

  Dean didn't see, he felt like he was in deep water and was just trying to keep from drowning.

  "So! I was very pleased to see how you used the Heavy Armor on the field exercise," the major said. He sounded like a child describing their Christmas list to Santa Claus at their local shopping complex. "Sledding down the mountain and using the shields as a mobile bridge to cross the desert in a rain storm was brilliant. How did you come up with such innovative tactics?"

  Dean cleared his throat, nervous that he was walking into a trap.

  "I told the other officers who debriefed me that I was just trying to get my squad to the objective as quickly as possible."

  "Yes, yes, the inquisition division, as I like to call them. They want an accounting for every decision, it is a hold-over policy from a bygone era. I'm sorry they treat our officers like children. It's unfortunate but still, every game has a price, does it not? I am not in that field, so please, relax. I'm an academic, plucked from a small university in Italy to help train EsDef officers. That is all. What we are talking about is for my benefit only. You can rest assured that nothing you tell me will make it back to the EsDef brass. I want to learn from you, so I can be a better teacher."

  "I'm not sure what to tell you. We had to get down the ridge," Dean said. "Taking the trail would have pushed my squad miles off course. My priority was to get through the exercise as quickly as possible and on top of that we had no water. So getting down the hill quickly just seemed like a good idea."