Hello everybody. Third chapter. Lots to explain about the armed forces this time. And a bit of Anderson too.
Feel free to review, i won't bite. :)
Chapter 3 - Anderson - 2156
"Welcome in 'the Villa', ladies and ladies. My name is Senior Instructor Major Hans Johnson." His gruff voice roared though the large shed behind a beautiful old mansion that had become the new head quarters for a training complex. Anderson had arrived two days ago, and had settled in. The first day of training gave him a tour of the facility, and an introduction to the different people he had to deal with. Also paperwork and a doctors examination where part of the introduction. Today they would get the first day of actual instruction.
"Let me give you an idea of what the N7 school is. About 6 years ago, we found our little 'gift from the heavens' on Mars." Major Johnson said, complete with finger quotes. "This propelled our technology by at least 200 years, but also made us realize that we were not alone out there. Whoever or whatever happened to the last survivors on mars, could very well be happening to us in the future! Which means that our divided planet would become easy pickings."
That is the fourth time now. The bored expression on Andersons face clearly visible for anybody to see. Four times that I hear the same bloody boring introduction of the start of the Alliance. I would think they would have come up with a better introduction to this place. You know, maybe something in Spanish or something. Anderson had trouble following the instructions and the blathering of the Major. Since this was an informal meeting, Anderson decided to look around in the line of people he was standing in. In total there were 35 soldiers in this class alone. But if the recruitment posters where any indication, that was not going to last.
Most of the people standing here were male. Coming in a variety of body sizes, all of them had most likely seen action in the field, and therefore probably had a good amount of experience. Although he had been on the base for 2 days, he had not actually met and spoken with anyone yet. Most of them arrived per bus this morning. Since they had been on the base longer, they were given leave because the training was going to start today.
A few of the people in the line where female. Most of them where, as some soldiers called it 'males with boobs'. Women with a gruff look, some with scars, that where definitely not to be messed with. Anderson quickly looked if there was anything to look at, and he noted that some where quite good looking, despite the gruffness. All of them looked determined to do this, however. Making Anderson note that any of them could definitely become a good commando.
Next to Anderson stood a man that was a complete head taller than him. The towering man was also a good end broader, and was build like a bodybuilder. Let's not piss him off. Looks like he could beat me in an arm wrestling contest.
Finally, Anderson decided to listen to Major Johnson again. "...And in late 2149, the Alliance council was formed. Tasked with setting up a combined governmental front to deal with any space related business like: colonization, militarization, and protection of Earth and its colonies." I know that! Multiple times, in fact.
"All right, ladies. That's the introduction into the Alliance. Now, let's start what you came here for." Major Johnson began to walk back and forth before the recruits. "You are all aware of where you are. What you are not aware is how this place came to be."
"After the Alliance was formed, lots of useless and boring talks began about how to organize the military front. And since they were politicians, and not soldiers, it did not take long before the whole endeavor started to sink into a festering shithole filled with chest pounding and finger pointing. The topic was, of course, who had the best military to base this little thing on. Particularly the USA and the then newly formed United States of Europe thought they should take the cake. But China and even Russia began to bicker about that. Not long, even countries with lesser military capabilities began to interfere."
"A certain Dutch guy, some politician somewhere, which means his name is unimportant, came up with an idea." The spoken resentment towards politicians was getting chuckles throughout the assembled recruits. Anderson was a bit more open minded, and was aware of the needed balance between the two. Being friends with history nuts clearly reminded him that too much of both will help neither, nor the people.
"He suggested that the whole deal should be started from scratch. That every military that wanted to take part of it should demonstrate its best units, its best training, for review. And that quality, not quantity, or patriotism, should decide which part to take for this new branch of armed forces. And that it should be determined by a panel of both scientists and military personnel, with backgrounds coming from each of the participating countries." Quite the compromising solution Anderson smiled.
"That worked surprisingly well, as the resulting mesh of tactics and styles now provide the Systems Alliance armed forces with the best military Earth had ever seen." This was no lie. Alliance personnel had been called on several occasions to deal with hot spots, and the mixed military arts style played a major role in the victories that followed. Making headlines around the world.
"But when it came to special forces, things changed. Although every country had definitely a good special forces branch, not one of them was superior to the other. Just different. The focus was in specialization of the threats at hand. It was determined that this would not do for the Alliance, since specialized soldiers could not be called in on the other side of the galaxy. So the Alliance military personnel wanted universal trained, all round specialized soldiers." Solid reasoning. But that would mean the training would be broad.
"And so we arrive here. A new set of commando's is being trained here. Here, we have no specializations. No one country doctrine. You learn the best skills developed in every country, during every battle." Major Johnson emphasized with his right fist shaking in the air.
"There are 7 tiers in N7 school. Each is harder than the one before. If you think toughness is needed to survive, think again! Only the best all round soldiers are going to come out on top here. We are not looking for people that can shoot. We are looking for people that can think!"
"Every time you pass a tier in skills, you advance one level higher, up to level 6. The 7th is only available for when you apply those skills in actual combat. A mission, specifically possible because of your skill sets, nothing else."
"Don't think this will be easy. Each tier is harder than the previous. But when you arrive at tier 6, you will be versed in: insurgency, counter insurgency, bomb making (yes, including Nukes!), bomb disarming, short and long range shooting, stealthy movement, basic hacking, jamming, interrogating, hiding in plain sight..." This list kept going on and on. Anderson was actually impressed. N7 school was definitely not for the simpleminded brutes. Next time he would be on the battlefield, armed with this knowledge, he was going to be a force of nature. Andersons resolve peaked. I. Will. Finish. This.
The initial introduction took several hours, and the Major said everybody had to go get some lunch. After lunch time, there would be another lengthy introduction into weapons and armor. The big man standing next to Anderson in the initiation of the Alliance briefing was close on his heels.
"You need something?" Anderson said to the man, who was getting into his personal space. And that was something Anderson only allowed during battle or with friends.
"I read about your actions against the Southern cartel. You supposedly took down the Nigeria cell." The man said more challenging than Anderson originally expected.
"I was part of that operation, yes." Anderson looked at the man. "Why do you mention it?" Anderson's tone was neutral, but his stance was getting more and more hostile.
"I heard you let a lot of people die." Was the blunt answer. Anderson eyes shot open in surprise for a fraction of a second, before letting anger overcome him a bit.
"What is it to you?" Anderson replied. Although he had no real lingering mental scars of the battle, it was a fair and almost honorable fight, people he worked with closely still lost their lives. And he was determined to honor their memories by following the N7 school. "And I would choose my words very carefully from this point on." His fist where clenched tight. He did not let anybody die. Some people just cannot be saved.
"Did you try to save them?" The man looked at Anderson with a defiant stance. Anderson was taken aback with that one question. A few days ago he said to the 'Band' that he could not, because he did not know how. That was the main reason he was here. Being challenged about the event did not help.
Anderson was going through options in his mind, his emotions playing on his face, on how to react to this. Combat situations are always complex, but the answer was a 'no'. Anderson now had the attention of all the 35 other people, including Major Johnson. Finally, a flair up of anger won over shame and sorrow.
The speed at which Anderson moved surprised even himself. The man had been moving in Anderson's personal space, meaning that he was close. Anderson made one step forward, and before he could react, he planted his knee deep into the man's groin. All the men in the group watching instantly contorted their faces in feigned pain, and the challenger doubled over on the floor. Anderson's voice became ice cold as he kneeled next to the man.
"I heard you lost your ability to produce offspring. Did you try to save them?"
Nobody moved or spoke. Anderson quietly waited for the man's response. The group surrounding the two waited with him, but the man on the floor could only groan in pain.
This was not a fight, because that would have been broken up, a prerequisite between two people who were trained to kill. This was one man making a point. And everybody in the group who had seen combat knew what the man meant.
Anderson stood up, and walked towards the mess hall, while the unknown challenger, build as a body builder, lay in fetus position on the ground. Major Johnson stepped in line besides Anderson. "Let's not do that again, Corporal, or I will have you on cleaning detail." The man was silent for a few seconds, and added: "On a personal note: Nicely done." And he walked off.
The lunch went by uneventful. Anderson was staring at an empty tray of a lunch that had almost classified as food. The rations being served at the base, where not encouraging for a healthy appetite.
Anderson was staring at the table in front of him when several soldiers joint him at the table. He looked at the 4 men for a while, each looking rough around the edges.
"Not that I mind seeing a jerk-off bodybuilder with shit for brains squealing in the sand like a pussy, but I have to ask, what the fuck was that about?" One of the guys said. The man had a friendly face, with a scar on the left side of his chin. The colorful language suggested a raw personality. Likable, but not for official social gatherings. And then there was his voice, that sounded like he had breathed several hands of sand.
The 4 waited patiently for Anderson to react to the question. He looked them all in the eyes for a few moments, and sighted. "I don't know who that guy was. But he was pissing on the graves of good soldiers. Making it look like it was my fault they died. I... " He sighed again. "I could not let that stand."
"Brutal?" The gruff man asked, putting two and two together.
"Not really. I would even go so far as to call it an honorable fight. But they were with more. They had fire support, and heavy machine guns. We only had our armor and a few assault rifles." Anderson started to study a knot in the wooden table. "They let us carry out our dead and wounded. They did not fire on the medics. We could have been wiped out in a matter of minutes, but they..." Anderson swallowed "..didn't."
"He said something about Nigeria?" another soldier said. "Wasn't that cell wiped out?"
"Yeah, 4 weeks later. By then we had half of the company left. We took them out with napalm, and high explosives. Killed them like dogs. A sentiment they did not return."
The 4 men looked to each other, apparently not an answer they expected. "They where cartel members. They probably killed thousands just with their actions alone. If we take their product into account, that number would rise a lot." One of them said. The gruff man added: "Fuck them. If it was me, I would have barbequed their corpses and called a feast on their flesh. Fuckin' pussies."
Anderson gave the man a strange stare. "If we treat everybody like that, than who would be the good guys, eh?"
"Good guys? Fuck your fuckin' lame-ass good guys. They are criminals, dealing in poison, killing more in a day, than any of us in our damned lifetime. Making them fuckin' worse than terrorists. At least the terrorists are gone once they blow themselves the fuck up. Those cartel jack-asses give the same amount of death every day, and you want to fuckin' hug them and guide them to prison? Are you fuckin' nuts?"
Anderson tried to listen to the lines between the curses. The man made a point. He wasn't done however.
"And what the fuck kind of difference does it make? They are still dead. Might as well fill your belly with their flesh. If you don't, the worms will. And I don't own no fuckin' worm nothing!"
Now everybody at the table looked at the gruff soldier. "Damn, Winslow. Don't tell me you actually started.. " the man gasped ".. doing that?" he finished with a disgusted face.
"Hahahaha. I guess I got you pussies on the wall eh? Nah. I would not do that. Waste of my good health and sanity. But I tell you: there is no fuckin' good or bad. There is dead, and not dead. Being a soldier is about killing your enemy before he kills you. No excuses, no morals. Just death." He smiled in confidence, as if he could feel he was right, no matter what anybody said.
Anderson was not going to agree with that. "I guess the soldiers guarding the death camps in World War 2 would agree with you. If I remember correctly, those that did survive, were hung for such a notion." He paused for dramatic effect. "Being a soldier for me is not only about protecting your country, or following orders. It is about doing the right thing for the right reasons."
"Oh, that is fuckin' rich! Hahahah. Do you hear what you just said? 'doing the right thing for the right reasons'? Hahahah." the man was holding his belly in mocked humorous laugh, before he suddenly got serious again. "Listen, idiot. You are a soldier. You kill for a living, no matter what you say to yourself. You are not out there to protect the people, you are out there to kill people. That gun of yours does not shoot flowers or happy thoughts. It shoots fuckin' bullets. Anybody that receives the message you spread, will die from it. That is what you are. A legalized killing machine."
"No."
The man huffed. "Don't fuckin' kid yourself. I can see why you are here. You are here to learn how to protect your soldiers. But you got it wrong kid. You are here to kill better. The moment you see that, your fragile fuckin' illusion in your head might implode, but at least you would not be living in a damn fantasy." Wilson voice was gruff but clear. He believed in what he said, and held himself to no illusions.
"Any moron can fight. Any moron can shoot. But I am not here to shoot better, I am here to learn how to shoot, where to shoot, when to shoot." Anderson realized he sounded contradictory to his statements. Quickly he added "You are right. I am a soldier. I am trained to kill. But I am not trained to murder. I want to know how to make the enemy surrender as quickly as possible, with as little casualties as possible. I see it as my duty to protect. Not just my soldiers, but everyone. My people, civilians, and even the enemy. I don't care why they are shooting. It is my job to make sure they stop."
"And you think you are going to learn that here?" Another voice said from behind. Anderson looked around, and stared in the face of Major Hans Johnson.
"Sir."
The man had a curious look on his face. "I have literally seen every type of soldier, on every kind of battlefield. And let me tell you what I learned: A average soldier will shoot when he is told. A good soldier will know when to shoot. But only a truly great one will know when not to shoot." He looked Anderson in the eyes. "I don't know if you are going to learn that here, Corporal. Some lessons can only be learned with experience. The private is right. Here we teach you to kill better, longer, more and faster. But don't let that deter you. Find your balance, your right and wrong. As a soldier, that is one of the few life lines you have to sanity."
"Yes sir."
After the lunch, everybody was directed to a shooting range between several small hills. In the valley, they had long and short fire ranges setup, allowing for long and short distance weapon training. The group was directed to a long table, where several items where laid out to display.
"All-right ladies. Today we are going to introduce you to the weaponry, armor and other equipment you will be using in the field. This equipment will be closer to you than your spouses, if you even have them. And since I don't like repeating myself, I suggest you all pay attention this time!" Major Hans Johnson looked at Anderson and several others. Shit, I guess he noticed my bored look earlier. Anderson chuckled softly.
"The first item on the list is the trusted M-2103D. This trusted handgun is not for the faint of hearted. Using coils to further accelerate the bullet while in the muzzle, it is one of a very few handguns that can actually hurt modern day armored soldiers. However, don't get your hopes up, you still need to hit the individual at certain locations to actually hurt them." Johnson had picked up the weapon to show it to everybody. "It has a muzzle velocity of mach 2.3, and a 15 round clip. It uses modified bullets to allow for the coil acceleration. It can fire standard ammo, but only at the slightly supersonic speeds. Thankfully, when using the right ammo, this thing is also equipped with recoil dampeners and recoil redirection. Making sure your hand stays attached to your body, and your aim roughly at the target."
He walked back to the table and picked up the assault rifle. "This is the standard commando assault rifle. Somebody smart decided that a bullpup design was actually a smart idea, and one of the most clever of these guns was the old P-90. And since it is a better idea to steal something than come up with it yourself, a good amount of the P-90 secrets where used in this design. This gun has an impressive magazine which holds 65 bullets." He picked up a long straight magazine that had rounds in it. "This, combined with a longer barrel, wrapped in coil gun technology, allows for a round that hits mach 6. Thankfully this lovely rifle is also equipped with recoil dampeners and kinetic redirectors, or otherwise you would break your shoulder and be aiming at the sky in one shot." He cocked the handle, and loaded the weapon. Everybody watched silently as he then proceeded into a combat stance, and shot at a few of the targets down range.
"This weapon is more advanced, and more powerful than anything the army has. It is about the same weight, has a rate of fire of 600 rounds a minute, and a maximum range, with scope, of 950 meters with a grouping within 10 cm. At least, if you can shoot at al. You will call your assault rifle 'honey', 'darling' or any other cozy name you can come up with. The rest of the world calls it the H&K G253. It was so successful that they gave it a nickname: 'The Knocker'. Why? It was so powerful, that the first versions knocked not only the enemy out of the game, but the shooter as well. Thankfully, improvements have been made since, but the name stuck."
Anderson looked at the rifle while the Major put it back on the table. He had experience with the successor to the American M16 variants, but that could only do mach 4 with the rounds, and was not a match for modern day armor. Basically that meant that in order to kill your opponent, you had to shoot a high amount of rounds in that individual. This will be a nice improvement on my M390.
"Next item on the list, is my personal favorite!" Major Johnson picked up a meter long rifle from the table. "The CheyTac M560, nicknamed the 'Gauss gun'. Now, any smart person in the audience will note that every military rifle is a Gauss gun nowadays, but nobody seemed to care. With this gun, people started to notice, so it got the name. This, ladies and ladies, is the world's first handheld element zero enabled gun. It is the single most powerful carried gun in human history. It fires a 5 mm projectile, at speeds in excess of mach 9. Its range has not been determined yet, since the human eye, even with enhancements, simply cannot see accurately enough at the distances they are measuring now. The rough human maximum distance is around 15 kilometers. Using a machine, they have reached ranges of well over 50." Some soft 'wow's could be heard, while others showed surprise on their face. The Gauss gun was a public secret, and greatly respected. But rarely anybody had seen them up close, the technology and the weapons where tightly controlled.
"This element zero in the Gauss gun allows for a few added perks. It uses the mass decrease property to help propel the projectile to high speeds. At the end of the barrel is a mass effect field inverter unit. This allows for the projectiles mass to increase after it is done accelerating." So you fire a small bullet with virtually no weight, but as soon as it's speed is up to mach 9, it exits the bullet as a heavy round. Nice. Anderson pondered as the Major continued.
"The mass effect field inverters have a maximum setting, simply labeled '12'. At this setting, this weapon could shoot straight though a main battle tank that is not equipped with shields." Again, everybody looked in awe. "But don't get your hopes up. The weapon has a downside. The higher the setting you chose, the higher the perceived mass of the projectile is. But that coincides with a higher Mass Effect field strength which bleeds off during the flight. This means, ladies and ladies, that you will leave a blue wake trail when you fire this rifle at higher settings. The higher the setting, the brighter the trail. It also means that you lose perceived weight per distance traveled by the projectile. Currently it is 2.5 km for 10 percent charge." The intensity could be read from everybody's faces.
"I hope you remember this, ladies and ladies! The moment you forget it, and fire at a tank, they will kill your pretty little hideout next. Not very good for your daily mood." Noted. Do not fire the weapon at high charge, and expect to be invisible.
The Major moved over to the armor. "Next item on the list. The armor. This thing can either save your life, or cause you to die quicker. There is no third alternative, so pay attention!" Everybody got a glare.
"This. Suit. Does. Not. Make. You. Immortal!" Emphasizing each word with a index finger impacting the rigid material of the armor. "That goes double for you, marines!" The Major joked. The people chuckled along.
"This armor is the latest available. It will stop a few shots from the G253, if they strike you square in the chest, but that is about it. Even with this suit on, your best bet is not to get hit in the first place. The suit also augments your strength and stamina, by taking the load of your back. The full body suit can perform a blend, meaning it can scan the surroundings and project its contents on the armor, allowing you to appear stealthy. It definitely works from a distance, just don't expect anything up close."
"It comes also equipped with a slot allowing an Intuitive Artificial Intelligence to be inserted in the suit. This allows a greater battlefield awareness and accuracy. We will train with both the IAI installed and removed." The major walked to the last item on the table.
"You are all probably familiar with this." Indicating a small spray-can he held up in his hands. "This is Regeneration Foam, or Reg Foam for short. When you receive wounds, either in training or in combat, this stuff will save your life. It will disinfect the wound, and stop any bleeding for a sort while. It will allow you to fight on a bit longer before needing medical help. It will also allow for faster healing, as it stimulates local growth. So keep this with you at all times."
"Today, you are going to get an opportunity to learn and familiarize yourself with each of these tools, ladies and ladies. I suggest you do it well and thorough, because they will become your greatest hope of coming back alive!"
Anderson spend most of his time toying with the Gauss gun. He had fired it a few times, at different settings, even obliterating a small sand heap at the highest setting. He was quickly starting to like this gun. It lay now before him on the table in components, while Anderson was studying each part to understand what it did. He did not see the bodybuilder sitting down on the opposite site of the table.
"Nice little speech you held during lunch." He challenged.
"Too difficult for you to follow?" Anderson retorted. He was not feeling like a match, but he was also not going to bow down.
"You are pretending to be quite the hero, but I think you are full of shit. The moral soldier wants to learn when not to shoot." He mocked. "You are pathetic."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps I am actually willing to learn from my mistakes."
"How can you sit here so smug, feeling good for yourself, while so many people died in Nigeria?" The man challenged again.
"You must really have a love-hate relationship with your balls, because the last time I checked, you still walked slightly bowed over." Anderson looked him in the eyes for a second. He decided that he needed more info. "And why all the interest in Nigeria?"
"My brother died there. Killed by friendly fire, or so they said." The man looked pissed.
"And you think I am responsible for it, simply because I was there? Who the fuck are you, by the way?" Anderson had about enough of the man.
"Kago." He was quiet for a few moments. "And yes. You were the only one that carried the type of gun that fired the bullets that were found in his body."
And then it daunted on Anderson what, and who, this Kago was talking about. There had been a man shot with a rifle similar to his own, but he died when a cartel sharp shooter used a military rifle to shoot at targets. "It wasn't my rifle. The enemy had managed to steal a few, and were using them against us."
"Bullshit, we both know weapons are disabled if anybody ever lost their own." The stance in the man became more aggressive.
"I have no answers for you. But if you ever again suggest that I shot your brother, your balls will be the least of your problems, understand?" Anderson said in a calm and controlled voice. The one he always used when he issued threats and meant them.
Kago reeled back slightly from the tone Anderson spoke. Both knew instantly that this was a final warning, and not an idle threat. He stood up, and looked at Anderson one more time. "Perhaps. But I will keep my eye on you. Consider yourself watched. If you ever do something wrong on the field again, I will kill you." Kago said in subdued voice. "I will avenge my brother."
Anderson just calmly looked at him. "If you want to kill me, you will have to beat me first. And I don't know who was your brother that died in Nigeria, but I know I will morn his loss more than yours." And he went back to his Gauss rifle. Not paying the man any more heed.
Reg-Foam: The precursor to Medi-gel.
Intuitive Artificial Intelligence or IAI: The IAI is more capable than a VI, but is not self aware or sentient in any way. It has the ability to learn and record preferences, almost becoming an intuition for the soldier, by relaying information about other team members, targets, firing solutions, sniper calculations, possible enemy attack strategies and tendencies, etc. It can communicate via laser link, radio link, and even visual interpretation. This technology is the precursor to a fully fledged AI, however, that technology is not yet available. IAI's are seen as AI's by the council, making the alliance switch to the less capable VI's once the treaties are signed. The Alliance however just re-labels most of them VI's and continue to use them.
