OUTDOOR RANGE 5, RTC MORRE'AC, MIFAAL, BRENTAAL SYSTEM, WEEK 8, DAY 6, 3644BBY, 0928 HOURS


"Step forward onto the firing point!" boomed the range loudspeaker.

Kat took her steps. She was nervous but determined to nail the rifle qualifications.

She stepped into the firing point as an instructor with a datapad took her own position next to her.

She looked downrange. There were targets up to 400 meters. Beyond those lies the "buttes" - a high wall of dirt designed to "catch" any stray bolts - and a thick forest leading up a small hillside.

"Targets - near to far, near to far...Make ready!"

She loaded the magazine into her gun and rechecked her optic. 3X zoom. Same as before.

Okay. Check your breathing… Calm down… Okay. You can do this.

"Weapons free! Weapons free!"

Kat checked her breathing… and...A humanoid-shaped target popped up. 30 meters. She checked her breathing and aiming, and squeezed the trigger.

As she did so, the range erupted with blue bolts going downrange. Another popped up.

Check distance, adjust aim, control your breathing… squeeze.

As more popped up, she fired. Slowly, her nervousness went away. After 15 shots, she reloaded - the mags were only partially filled for the quallies.

"Standing stance in cover, standing in cover," the instructor told her.

Kat felt a light breeze going to her left. Blaster bolts aren't affected to the environment as much as projectile bullets, but she still had to put it into consideration somewhat.

Adjust and compensate.

"Make ready… fire!"

She went through the motions, feeling more comfortable as time went on. Squeeze…...squeeze…..squeeze…

"Kneeling stance, from cover. Ready, ready…"

She positioned herself against the target, subconsciously checking her body positions.

"Fire out from topside, weapons free!"

She peeked her hand, rested the barrel on the cover, went through her firing mantra again.

Check. Aim. Breathe. Squeeze...

She fired her blaster confidently, one shot after another…

"Done. Now go to the prone position, unsupported."

Kat tried proning when she felt it - the hard items in her fully-loaded chest rig and belt - magazine, grenades, aid kit, water canteen, flashlight, and more - were pressing against her.

"Something, recruit?"

"My gears are crushing my torso!"

'Suck it up, princess! It's unavoidable! I can give you a tip - adjust your stance until it's comfortable enough to shoot stably,"

"Yes sir,"

"Are you ready?"

"Yes sir."

"Weapons free, weapons free! Ok, final one - prone unsupported, adjustments for 10".

She was almost one with her weapon. She could feel it

"Ok... prone stance with support. Put your gun on this permacrete block here!"

"Aye, Sir." she rested her gun on the 1m-wide permacrete.

"Make ready!"

She checked her scope.

"Weapons free, weapons free…!"

Shooting from prone was much easier and more stable. So Kat knocked down round after round down range.

The final bolt shot out. She felt great - it's as if the weapon was an extension of her hand. The air smelled strongly of ozone. Some other recruits had also finished their quallies, others were still in progress. She took a deep breath.

"Cease fire, recruit Merrick. Your results will be out shortly. Police call your firing lane point, and return it to the armory folks back there, oya?

"Oya, sir!"

She picked the magazines she dropped, some other magazines from previous shooters, and a surprise - smoke tubes, probably from the active duty guys or the instructors.

Whether it's there due to incompetence or laziness, it doesn't matter to her.

Lazy bums. Join the Aero guys if you don't want to pick up your OWN kriffing garbage off the deck. Why should I pick up your trash?

She was fuming inside while police-calling her lane. The cleaning only lasted 15 minutes, but the repetitive and mind-numbing activity left her relieved for its end.

She set down her extra magazines, as well as the found magazines in an opened box guarded with instructors.

She then took the smoke tubes and cigs and put in a disused minibag. Then she went towards the exit before slamming the cig-filled bag into the ground harshly.

She stormed off the range back to her platoon.

"Clean your weapons! Inspection in fifteen mulls after last recruit is done,"

Cleaning weapons were her least favorite thing about going to range. They would be cleaning weapons for at least an hour... if they were lucky. It was necessary, but it didn't make it less mind-numbing for her.

She sighed and took out her cleaning kit.


PLATOON BAY 40, Basic Combat Center, RTC MORRE'AC, WEEK 8, DAY 8, 1011 HOURS

The platoon bay was alive with controlled chatter. It was day 8 - usually the Marines have designated the end of a week for a half-day of training.

Half of the platoon went off to attend or do their services and rituals for their beliefs. The Republic, realizing its diversity, allows set off small amounts of time for its believers.

The others were back at the barracks. A low drone hummed through the barracks, probably from the electronics in the building. "Pray day", as it is called, was a relief, for everyone, believers or otherwise - it provided a respite from the intense training. For the believers, it allowed them to connect with a part of their own culture and identity.

Some were typing letters home, some were napping, some were reading - The Marines Combat Guide is a popular choice in this barracks, meanwhile one, Recruit Palls, is reading Action Under Fire, the memoirs of Supreme General Hall Laarik "High-Lethality" Cole, a highly decorated warfighter and the Marines' first Commandant more than three hundred years ago.

Some were making up games to pass time with what little resources they have. Recruit Jeruz was with his buddies, playing with canteen tops. He flicked the cap towards the canteen, only for it to veer off course at the last minute. Jeruz buried his head in his hands with a "Dammit!"

C'alee and Aikern were out for their services too, so that leaves Kat alone.

Kat was also poring through the Combat Guide. She was trying to not stumble through the upcoming combat phase of training.

Suddenly, the platoon guide, Recruit Venn stormed into the barracks. "Guys! They released the marksmanship results! To the common bay! C'mon!"

They all hurried down to the common bay to the masses of almost a hundred recruits trying to line up with their datapads to the wall computer. On the main screen it read -

"MARKSMANSHIP QUALIFICATION RESULTS

CONCORD COMPANY, 5TH RECRUIT BATTALION

FOR RECIPIENT'S EYES ONLY

PLEASE CONNECT ANY CABLE TO YOUR DATAPAD

LEAVE IMMEDIATELY AFTER DOWNLOAD

- MARINE SYSTEMS COMMAND"

When Kat reached the computer, she connected one of the cables to her issued pad. She walked back up to the platoon bay and sat on her bunk before opening it.

"MERRICK, CATHRIA, RECRUIT 18047265/0027

RECRUIT MARKSMANSHIP QUALIFICATION RESULTS

STANDING - 8/15

STANDING FROM COVER - 10/15

KNEELING - 9/15

KNEELING FROM COVER - 10/15

PRONE, UNSUPPORTED - 11/15

PRONE, UNSUPPORTED - 14/15

RELOADING SPEED ACCURACY - 3/5

TOTAL SCORE 65/100

RANK - MARKSMAN"

She sighed. She got the lowest qualification rank. She racked her brain trying to figure out what went wrong. Was it her stance? Her arm stabilization? Could it be that I didn't control my breathing properly? Was my reloading too sloppy?

The questions swirled in her head as her platoon-mates returned from taking their results and services. She tried to hold back her tears. She had tried so hard. How could she fail?

"Kat… You OK?"

She looked up. It was Recruit Palls kneeling in front of her bunk.

"I sucked on the quallies. I only got marksman,"

"Kat. Listen to me," He put his hand on her shoulder. "Being a good soldier is more than firing a blaster. Sure, it's a huge part, but so are a lot of other things. I've seen you do pretty creative things on the confidence and navigation courses. You focus on your strengths, and try to improve on your weaknesses meanwhile. You'll be good at that, someday,"

"I…" she thought on it for a while. Then she looked at him. "I think you're right. I'll think of it. I'll try. Thank you, Palls,"

"Glad I could help a bit. Just get yourself mentally ready. I think they're calling us on after lunch,"

She leaned back on her bunk and closed her eyes. She started to practice controlled breathing to control her emotions.

I can do this… I can do this… Just a little more to go.


EN ROUTE TO COMBAT BASICS GROUNDS BETA, 1411 HOURS

Platoon 4/C/5 arrived on the Combat Basics Grounds to a large, 100 meter-tall building.

"Break formation and get to the top!"

The recruits broke formation and started getting to the turbolifts to go up. Kat got in one with C'alee and Aikern.

The 'lifts whirred as they shot up through the building. Kat asked the other two "What's your marksmanship scores?" "75," answered C'alee. "63," said Aikern. "Whoa...Cool, I guess." "You OK, Kat?"

"I barely passed. Not good enough for infantry, I'm afraid…" C'alee looked at her. "You can make it up everywhere else," "Hey, Kat. I don't know what can I do to make it right, but know that we're here for you," said Aikern. "Thanks."

The turbolift opened to an open room with a transparisteel window leaning down and out into the combat grounds. There were supply crates, rows of chairs, and screens hanging from the ceiling. It was an observation tower and classroom. Below was a square kilometer of training grounds, littered with various types of cover, trees, holes and small hills. It was flanked on three sides by the same towers the recruits are in.

"Alright, take a seat! We don't have all day!"

Kat, C'alee and Aikern took a seat near the front row. As they set down their gear and sat in their chairs, their on-body gear started to slightly squish them, as always. But they have gotten used to it now.

"Now! Pay attention! What you're about to see is a combat exercise on how to return fire. This will be your first! Take notes - we will be observing these more… advanced recruits and teaching you recruits the theory and basics. You will put this into practice down there next week. I suggest you maggots don't slack off if you don't want to be the first trooper down then,"

She got out her datapad. A speaker boomed throughout the room.

"Platoon 3, Beta Company, 2nd Battalion on the grounds! Make ready!"

She looked into the screen. It showed the views of the platoon recruits in their woodland-camo uniforms moving onto the grounds into position.

She then craned her neck to see through the window. She noted that their camo is much more effective from afar.

Their instructors watched from the sidelines as they walked in single file, as if they were on patrol.

Suddenly, one side of the grounds without warning erupted with red bolts from the training droids. The recruits scrambled to find cover while trying to not break formation. As soon as a recruit found cover, they returned fire.

Kat felt nervous for the recruits. The bolts seemed to travel much faster than she thought. The crossfire left her in awe.

The recruits down at the training ground slowly found their footing and started suppressing fire and flanking maneuvers.

After half an hour, the recruits finally fought off the last training droid. They called for stretcher bearers to bring out "casualties" as they methodically withdraw from the fields.

CSGT Ra'az made an about face, raised his right hand and clicked a button on a remote. The window was closed off and turned into a giant screen. She paced throughout the room.

"That… is the beginning of your combat training phase. We will teach you a lot of things - how to respond to fire, how to spot enemies, how to maneuver and fire, how to find opportunities in combat. NOW! I know a lot of you are thinking - 'I don't have to care THAT much! I'm not in infantry or combat arms!' But I'll tell you from my experience… I was an aerospace mechanic. I was a young private, newly stationed on a carrier in the Outer Rim when I first saw combat. I thought I would NEVER see combat! But the modern battlefield does not work that way! THERE! ARE! NO! FRONTLINES! The battle can, and will, COME TO YOU, wherever you are! So you must prepare, so that you can survive through it! AM? I? CLEAR!?"

4/C/5 snapped and stood to attention. "AYE-AYE, SIR!"

"Good. Let's begin."


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