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Infantry
-Chapter Two:
To Shinji, basic training in Siberia was a very strange experience. It was hard. He had known it would be, but knowing and experiencing were two different things. Yet despite the hardship, or perhaps because of it, he was enjoying himself. Sure he was sore and tired and a dozen other variations on that theme, but he was enjoying himself. It wasn't happiness; it was much deeper than that. He was satisfied and proud.
Boot camp sped by in a blur of unchanging routine broken only by a few events. Dimitri made recruit-corporal. He lasted a full month before a training accident left him with his brains on the ground and the deed to his very own farm. Shinji had suddenly found himself trying to fill the old man's shoes. Within a week there was another accident and Shinji had been made a recruit-private again with the addition of five lashes on his back.
Through it all Chris kept by his side and for the first time in Shinji's life, he had a friend he truly believed he could count on.
They were issued rifles and kept them within reach for months on end until the armor training had arrive and the flimsy rifles had been replaced with plasma weapons, flame throwers, and tactical nuke launchers that could only be truly wielded by a suited individual.
The armor, an extension of old American Army exo-skeletons, had been where Shinji excelled, much to his surprise. The massive fighting suit had just felt so natural to him. The instructors had taken notice.
Another promotion was followed by another demotion, this time sans lashing.
Using the armor had been just as natural when they moved into the Ural Mountains and then on top drops. The drops had been a rush. Shinji simply couldn't get enough of them. Other recruits would get the shakes staring into the launch tubes, but Shinji just felt excited.
Through it all Shinji felt himself changing. The physical changes were easy to see. The psychological ones were much harder to identify. He didn't even notice himself until a sparring match with Chris had led to the larger man flat on his back. Shinji didn't just have a knack for fighting in giant robots, he had a knack for fighting period. He had looked down at Chris and so help him, he had been proud.
Than came the final test. A drop followed by a march of too many miles to count with no sleep. Some troopers dropped and were carried by their brothers in arms. The end of the march and they found themselves clustered around a stage. The regional commander had stared at them and tossed his cigarette on the ground. A short speech later and he declared that they were Mobile Infantry from then until forever. Shinji had been unable to speak. He had stared at the ground until Zang walked up to him and laid a tiny winged skull in his palm. A handshake and slug to the shoulder later, the instructor was moving onto the next new Mobile Infantryman.
Shinji had stared at that pin. It wasn't really anything special, just a hunk of metal, but at that time Shinji wouldn't have given it up to anyone for anything. It was his and he had earned it with his blood, sweat, and tears. At that moment he had felt tears blurring his vision and tried to hide it. He didn't really have to. Every single ex-recruit in his range of vision was crying, tears cutting through the dust that smeared their cheeks.
Shinji had been prouder then he had ever been before. He was a Mobile Infantrymen and he'd be damned if he ever did something to prove that false.
(:ii:)
"Would you look at that!" Chris asked as he stared at the spaceship in wonder. Shinji was right beside him, his hands pressed eagerly against the viewing port. "The White Feather."
"Yeah," Ruskie replied, his Standard English still carrying a thick Russian accent he had never been able to loose. The little transport swung around and a new shape appeared that easily dwarfed the White Feather. "What's that?"
"That's the Valley Forge," Shinji answered. "Those ships can carry entire battalions."
"Wow," Chris commented. The transport boat nudged up against the White Feather and the docking hatch sprung open. They all clambered across the transparent tunnel connecting the two ships. Shinji stopped at the White Feather's hatch and quickly saluted the Federation flag hanging on the bulkhead. He turned and saluted the only man present.
"Permission to come aboard sir."
"Granted," the man returned tiredly with a sharp salute. The others repeated his words until all six had been ordered aboard. The man who had granted them permission eyed them all.
"I'm Sergeant Rotuno," he stated. "Right now the platoon sergeant and the lieutenant are too busy to handle a bunch of FNGs. They sent me here to give you the basic brief. I am, and you are about to become, a part of Second Platoon, Charlie Company. We take great pride in being the most destructive men in the entire fucking Federation. It's our job to go in when it's too hot for anybody else and blow shit up until its nice and quiet. We are peace through superior firepower. Do you understand that?"
"Yes sir!" Meyers nodded.
"Welcome to the War Dogs." The sergeant paused for a moment eyed them carefully. "A word to the wise, you aren't anyone till you drop with us. Just so you know." Chris watched as the man disappeared.
"What the hell did that mean?"
"We aren't real MI to them until we drop," Shinji translated. He adjusted the strap of the heavy duffel slung over his shoulder. "I'm starving."
"You're always starving," Ruskie replied.
"Yeah," Chris agreed. "But I'm hungry too. Let's go find the chow hall."
(:ii:)
"Wake up trooper. On the bounce." Those three little words tacked to the end of that statement had a very profound effect on Shinji. He leapt out of his rack and snapped to attention. The man who had awoken him stumbled back in surprise. "Jesus H. Christ! Chill out cherry." Shinji came to his sense and looked around. "I refuse to believe I was every that tightly wound."
"Sorry."
"Don't worry about it," the man stated. He was wearing stained coveralls without rank pins on the collar. Shinji also couldn't help but notice that his hair had been cut into a short, one-inch tall Mohawk.
"Nice hair."
"Don't be a dick," the man ordered as he lit a long, thin cigar. "First day here and already picking fights with your section leader. I'm Sergeant Ford. Nice to meet you." Shinji shook the man's hand and glanced at his watch.
"Is something wrong?"
"Your boot records say you have a yen for the armor," Ford stated. "I need an assistant in Ordinance and Armor. What do you say?"
"Yes sir."
"Sarge," Ford corrected. "I work for a living. The lieutenant and sometimes the platoon sergeant are sirs." Shinji quickly pulled on a pair of coveralls and followed the man out into the passageway. "We need coffee first. Then I'll give you the grand tour of the suit lockers. You know anything about how they work?"
"Only what the taught me in boot Sarge," Shinji replied.
"That's all I knew," Ford replied. He stepped through a low hatch and into the room Shinji recognized as the mess hall. They walked through another door and into the galley where Ford grabbed a pot of coffee.
"Where is everyone Sarge?"
"Still racking," Ford stated. "I don't have time for sleep right now. My last assistant freaked out and refused to climb into his armor. Just one of those things, you know?"
"No Sarge." Shinji had never had trouble with the armor. He never could understand why some of the other recruits panicked and went into convulsions.
"Consider yourself lucky." Ford pulled a large skillet off the stove. "Now eat up. We've got a major deadline and we're gonna have to skip lunch." Shinji eyed the extremely crispy stack of pancakes.
"Perfect."
(:ii:)
"What do you think Blue?" Shinji stared down into the mass of wires that had seemingly burst from the armored suit the moment the torso armor was removed.
"It looks complicated." Ford laughed.
"I knew there was a reason why I picked you," he stated. "You're just like me."
"God help us." Shinji turned and snapped to attention as another man in coveralls stepped into the suit locker. The single silver bar on each of his lapels glistened brightly in the light. "At ease," he grunted. "How are you doing Sarge?"
"Not great sir," Ford returned. "This is going to be a last minute dash any way you cut it, but with Blue's help it can be done."
"Good," the lieutenant replied. He glanced at Shinji. "Private Ikari, correct?"
"Yes sir," Shinji replied.
"Blue," he added.
"Yes sir," Shinji repeated. The lieutenant nodded and disappeared out into the passageway again.
"Lieutenant Wilcox is a strait shooter," Ford stated as he fired up a big welding gun. "I went to boot with him. He spent his time before OCS in recon. Kind of ironic to be back together again after all these years. Think you can solder that circuit board for me?"
"I'll give it a shot, Sarge." Shinji turned to the circuit board in question and set about soldering the circuit board in question. "Why are we in such a rush?"
"It's the MI," Ford replied as he dropped his torch and began kicking the suit he had been working on. "Everything's a rush, you know? Well, it is until it's time to wait. Hurry up and wait." He picked up a long, silver wrench and clubbed the suit on the side of its head. Something creaked and the monitoring device Ford had plugged into the suit began to beep steadily. "Bingo."
"Does that work every time?" Shinji asked.
"Pretty much," Ford replied. "Just remember, they made these things for grunts, therefore you can't break them." He hesitated for a moment. "Let me rephrase that last part, it takes a lot more to break them." He grinned brightly and used the welding gun to light his cigar. "Although, I can break anything in ten seconds or less."
"You're proud of that?" Shinji asked.
"Absolutely," Ford stated. "Wouldn't you be?" Shinji thought about that for a few minutes.
"Yeah, I would." He turned back to the board and finished up the task at hand. "So, this order would have nothing to do with an attack?"
"Maybe," Ford replied. The hatch slammed up again and a short, swarthy man appeared, gasping for air. "That's Corporal Vigianno," Ford added. "He's your squad leader. What's up Viggie?"
"We've been attacked," Vigianno panted.
(:ii:)
Shinji stared at the images being relayed by the massive flat screen that took up one whole wall of the chow hall. It seemed like the ship's entire crew was packed in there. The reported continued to drone on in the background. "A conclusive body count is impossible to ascertain right now, but estimates are in the high millions," she stated. "The Sky Marshal has confirmed that this was a deliberate act of aggression by the Arachnids." The screen shifted to show a tall, balding man with a badly scarred face. Shinji didn't need the news show's footnotes to know that the man was the Sky Marshal.
"At eleven thirty-five Greenwich Mean Time a large asteroid sent by the Arachnids impacted on Buenos Aires," the man rasped. "Due to this blatant and unprovoked attack on our home planet, I have asked the Federation to recognize that a state of war exists between the human race and the Arachnids." The chow hall was immediately filled with the yammering of a platoon of MI and a ship's Navy crew.
"Shit," Ford cursed. "We're going to war."
"Sarge." The calm voice cut through the din with ease and everything fell silent as all eyes turned to the Lieutenant.
"Here sir," Ford replied.
"Get Blue and get in the armory," the silver-haired man rasped. "I want us at one hundred percent readiness. We're going to war and the War Dogs are not going to be caught sleeping."
"Roger that sir," Ford replied. He grabbed Shinji by his coverall's epaulets. "Let's go Blue." Shinji nodded and hurried out of the chow hall. Ford was cursing every other step. "We have a ninety-percent readiness right now," he stated. "We need all suits functioning and we also need to get the FNGs sized up."
"Want to fit me up when we get there?" Shinji asked. "I can do the rest of the new guys after that." Ford paused and grinned at him sheepishly.
"I forgot you were an FNG," he stated. "That's the plan, copy?"
"Copy that Sarge." It was odd to think that over a year ago Shinji had been dreading the thought of war as he signed his enlistment papers. Now there was no denying the rush he felt as he considered the idea. "Are we going to get in the fight soon, Sarge?"
"We're the War Dogs, Blue," Ford stated. "The MI knows not to leave us behind. We're like their own vicious, snarling little good luck charm. They'll want us on point."
"Good."
-End
(:ii:)
-Author's notes. Well folks, here is number two. Not much has changed again, but this isn't really a rewrite, it's more an update.