CHAPTER TWO
0630 Hours, July 22, 2523 (Military Calendar) Epsilon Eridani system, planet Reach, Spartan training Exercise. Twenty-nine years ago.
Rachel and the other Spartans stood at attention as
CPO Mendez strolled in front of them. "Your mission today recruits,
is to retrieve the flag at the other end of the obstacle course. You
will take turns attempting to recover it. The recruit with the
slowest time or any recruit KIA will have to run back to base. Rachel
wasn't especially nervous or bored, she was content. She knew that
the obstacle course wasn't any normal one. It was a two mile long
battlefield. Mendez usually had many surprises hidden along the way.
"117 you are up first. Good luck." John stepped forward accepted
his rifle, and sprinted off into the course. Seven minutes later he
was back with flag in hand. "Piece of cake."
"035, you're
next."
Rachel accepted her rifle, she checked the ammo
indicator, sixty tranc darts. No extra clips, so she would have to
conserve ammo. She turned and sprinted into the course. A short run
brought her to the first obstacle, a thirty foot wall. Normally
challenges weren't this easy so she was cautious as she jogged up
to it. There didn't seem to be any obvious dangers around, so she
backed up about a hundred feet and sprinted straight towards the
wall. When she got close to it, she jumped onto the wall, allowing
her momentum to hold her to the wall as she ran up it. As she got to
the top she stopped. Down below her were three marines with assault
rifles aimed right at her. She jumped backwards and grabbed onto the
edge of the wall with her free hand as bullets bit into the wood
around her. The marines ran around the wall to get a better shot at
her, and were greeted by a hail of tranc darts from above. Content
that there were no other threats in the vicinity, Rachel moved on. As
she moved further through the course she heard a voice yell "Hold
your position and drop your weapon!"
Rachel looked around and
saw that a group of at least fifteen marines from Tango Company were
moving into a circle around her. Tango Company has faced the Spartans
on several occasions, and were pretty tired of loosing. That meant
that they weren't going to play fair. She dropped her weapon and
stepped away from it. "Damn Section Three kids, you never learn do
you?" One of the marines moved over with a zip-tie to restrain
Rachel. "Touch me, with that" she gestured to the zip-tie "and
I will attach your tongue to your ankles with it."
The marine
laughed and grabbed Rachel's arm. She pulled her arm back swiftly
and whipped the marine's arm around into the hammerlock position.
She herd a wet pop as the marine's shoulder dislocated. She then
threw the injured marine at his comrades in front of her, then spun
around with a roundhouse that connected solidly with two more
marine's faces. They dropped like rocks.
The other Spartans
and CPO Mendez waited for Rachel at the finish line. CPO Mendez
looked at his watch, it read 8:54. "Where in the hell is that
girl?"
As if on queue Rachel sprinted around the last corner and
dove across the finish line. "Finished sir!"
"What took you
so long soldier?"
"Sir I was ambushed by a group of Tango
Company's men sir!"
"How many?"
"Sir there were at
least fifteen sir!"
"Fifteen! How the hell did you…" His
voice trailed off as a medical jeep pulled up to the group. A medic
jumped out of the driver's seat. "Explain yourself!" Mendez
said to the medic.
"Sir I found a group of wounded men out on
the course. Some of them are pretty bad, and one has his tongue
attached to his ankles with a zip-tie sir." Rachel and the other
kids giggled.
"Well, don't waste any time, get them to the
hospital."
"Sir!"
The medic snapped off a quick salute
before jumping back into the jeep and speeding off down the dirt
road. Mendez looked at Rachel, then back at the jeep fading into the
distance then shook his head. That day she found her calling. She
didn't have superior aim like Linda, nor blinding speed like Kelly,
not even extremely good luck like John, but as she found out no one
could match her in unarmed combat, no one.
