Disclaimer:
Space: Above and Beyond and its original Characters are the property of Hard Eight Productions and Fox Broadcasting and are used without their permission. No Copyright infringement is intended and it is not written for any gain. We all know they belong to them. The Characters of Amy Langston and Dale Steinbeck are the creation of Rayhne and the S:AaB VTV gang are used with permission. Other characters and situations in this work of fiction are my creations.Holding Up The Sky
M. WheelsBook III - Polaris
(One)
9 April 2065
Quantico, Virginia,
USA
1630 hours
Kylen entered the indoor firing range, a long cement block building at the far end of the base. She flexed her neck from side to side and rolled her shoulders, attempting to relax muscles still tense from a long session with the cartographers. Up until ten minutes ago she had been supposed to report to the driving course to take her 'final' in the sedan: Kylen had been learning defensive driving and escape techniques in a number of different vehicles.
Not that it made a whole lot of difference in her life. She didn't have a car of her own to drive, and with her daily assignments, she hadn't set foot off the base in almost two weeks. Kylen supposed that there really wasn't all that much to do off base that she couldn't do behind its walls - not in the day to day - but it was the idea that they didn't allow her any real free time that was beginning to frustrate her. What she had only recently learned was that her entire schedule and any changes in it - her entire day - had to be approved through Major Howard. She determined to call him tonight and ask for three hours to herself to get her hair done, take a bubble bath, and watch a three-hankie movie. "I'll bargain down to ninety minutes," she thought. "But I'll start high."
This was not the first time that Kylen had been called to the firing range. She usually never knew the reason until she arrived.
"Whatcha got for me, Gunnery Sergeant?" she asked.
"Well, Ma'am, that's why we called you. We were hoping you could tell us," was the reply. Gunnery Sergeant Valenzuela was an obvious career Marine - not an ounce of fat and ramrod straight. Kylen speculated that his hair was probably graying at the temples, but there was no way to be sure because he wore it cut high and tight. She had worked with him before. In fact, he had instructed her in small arms, coaching her through the rugged process of 'snapping in'. He had spent days teaching Kylen how to assume the correct posture to fire her weapon. Balance, breathing, and concentration - all with her arms held out in front of her body. It had been grueling and downright painful. She clearly remembered the Gunny's low growl in her ear: "If you think your shoulders burn now, just wait 'til I sit on them."
Kylen might only be a participant in the High Risk Personnel Program, but damn if Gunny Valenzuela was going to let any person onto his range without them knowing and following proper firearm safety. And damn if any of his students were getting off of his range without making the grade. Gunny would make damn good and sure of that. His charges would snap in until he got tired of watching them.
Kylen had risen to his challenge, qualified as a 'Marksman', and was now certified to carry a concealed sidearm when given courier duties between Quantico, DC, and DamNeck. Well, that was the plan - only she had not yet been asked to deliver anything.
"Follow me, Ma'am. The technical staff are already on the range," Valenzuela said, turning on his heel and entering the fire line proper. Kylen had invited him weeks ago to call her by her first name. And he did so on the rarest occasions. On equally rare occasions he had referred to the Technical Engineers as 'propeller heads.' This evening he was obviously all business. "No fun tonight," she thought.
"Hiya, Kylen Alexa Celina." It was a familiar voice.
"Hiya, Martin Aalto Guilio," she replied in kind, following the young InVitro's custom of using every name that a person had been given. Martin stepped forward to give her a hug. Even though they were both training and working at Quantico, she seldom saw him, and wasn't really sure what the powers that be had him doing. This was not the first time that she had seen Martin at the range. The propeller heads had a method to their madness, and only called Kylen and Martin in as a team for a specific reason.
The Tellus and Vesta survivors had been forced to use Chig technology in the mines. The Silicates had not been able to use the equipment, which functioned on principles of bio-electronics. AI's had no "bio" to go with their electronics - and therefore Chig weapons, tools, and instruments were useless in their hands. Only so much scrap. "When they hired me three months ago, I had no idea that my specialty would become Chig power tools," Kylen thought. In fact, the Corps hadn't considered it in the beginning either. But one day when the propeller heads ran into some problems, someone had gotten the bright idea to call in someone who had actually used the stuff. Kylen and Martin had the right clearances. They had been able to identify the purpose of at least two previously unknown instruments, and even though neither one had actually used the tools before, they were able to give a fair demonstration of their function. Almost a year of using Chig technology had given them a finesse and a level of confidence that the engineers had yet to achieve.
"You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out that being able to use the enemy's equipment could be a real asset on the battlefield. Soldiers have done it on Earth since the beginning of time."
Kylen had been able to figure that out all by herself.When Earth Force had discovered that human beings could 'trigger' the conducting gel, word had gone out to start collecting samples of weaponry - and anything else the Chigs used - for analysis and testing.
One of the biggest problems was the bio-conducting gel. It didn't seem to have a very long shelf-life and seemed to denigrate over time and exposure to oxygen. The weaker the gel, the weaker the power of the weapon or implement. So far the attempts to replicate this gel on Earth had been only partially successful. The results were positive, but yielded only a weak response. The mass spectrometer showed at least one trace element in the gel that was not found in the Earth solar system. The Techies had been trying to track it down for months.
"Try out the drills," the Captain ordered. He belatedly remembered that he was dealing with civilians. "If you please," he amended. "The ones on the right first, please."
Martin and Kylen stepped up to the line and picked up the drills as requested. They checked the distance setting automatically. They had no idea what the markings meant literally, but had learned through use how they corresponded with results.
"You may drill at will," Valenzuela instructed.
Kylen gave the Gunny a 'you've-got-to-be-kidding-me' look, and could swear that - even though not a muscle in his stern expression changed - he winked at her. Kylen and Martin fired up the drills. The one-meter end setpoint was not achieved. The beam was pale and petered out at about eighteen inches. "These ain't gonna cut through Jack," Kylen called up to the Techies, who were now upstairs in the observation room.
"Try the drills on your left," the Captain ordered over the intercom.
Kylen and Martin scraped the gel left on their hands and arms into a container and closed the lid. It was almost useless, but still not to be wasted. Picking up the next drills, they checked the distance setting and then placed their hands and arms into the sleeves. They felt for the grip inside and slid their middle and ring fingers into place. That was one of the tricks to using the equipment: It was never designed to be triggered with the index finger and didn't work well - if at all - if you tried to use it that way. There evidently wasn't enough myo-electric activity to activate the mechanism. It took time and practice for a person to build up coordination and reaction times using the other fingers.
Martin stepped back and looked into Kylen's partition. Kylen turned to look at him wide-eyed. The difference was remarkable. They both felt it - even without firing up the drills. She threw back her head and looked up to the observation area. "Where did you get this?" she demanded. "Where did you get this gel?"
"We hoped that you might like it," Valenzuela said, smiling ever so slightly to his charges. "Fire up the drills, please."
Kylen pointed the tool downrange. A brilliant blue beam snapped out of it. Hot, precise, lethal, and exactly one meter in length.
Valenzuela's reaction was self-satisfied: "Oh, my, my, children. Ain't we all just cookin' with gas now?"
Kylen laughed outright.
© 2002 m.wheels
