Dear Reader, This is a nice, short chapter to close out the Range 9 scenarios. Thanks to my reviewers. I appreciate it very much, as it keeps me motivated to keep posting! Peace, CS
Chapter 54 Rising
"Every satiety is accompanied by a desire."
Lift Up Your Heart
Bishop Fulton Sheen
CT-7567 drew himself up out of the water, keeping one gloved hand clenched around the top of CT-5869's back armor plate. He slung his arm over the rim of the wooden vat and hung there for several long seconds, catching his breath.
There was movement beside him as CT-5869 regained consciousness.
"What the hell happened? We're in the water?" 5869 asked, shaking his head to clear it.
"I, uh, I got soft," CT-7567 replied with a self-deprecating smile. "I was going to let the melted steel do you in, but something came over me." He shrugged. "Don't ask: I don't really understand it myself."
"You're saying you pulled me out of there?" 5869 asked, his voice bordering on doubt.
"Hard to believe, I know."
5869 nodded slowly, swinging an arm up to hold himself above the water and gingerly running his fingers over his throat with the other hand. "Yes, it is hard to believe."
CT-7567 beamed. "Now, if this had been a real world situation, and you were a true enemy, I wouldn't have done it. I wouldn't have spared you." A pause. "I guess the thought of molten liquid pouring down on top of you—even if it isn't real—well, that would be too gruesome."
CT-5869 looked back at him, and there was a wariness in his gaze that made his stupefaction a bit less glaring. "So, now we're both in the cooling vats," he stated. "Are we still enemies?"
"I think, for the purposes of the scenario, yes," came the reply. "But maybe we can take your suggestion and just . . . move past each other." A pause, as he leaned close. "We don't have to give the cadre everything they want, enh?" he said in a low voice.
"Do you think our squads are up there moving past each other?" CT-5869 challenged. "I'm sure they're battling it out now that the first shot's been fired."
"Then it's a race between you and me," 7567 rejoined. "What do you say?"
CT-5869 considered for several seconds. At last, he replied, "Let's do it."
The two men hoisted themselves on the vat's edge using nothing but brute strength.
"On my mark?" 7567 posed.
5869 nodded.
CT-7567 flashed an intense smile. "May the best man win. Go!"
"There they go," Captain Dart, Echo's senior controller, noted with mirth. "Going against the rules we set for them."
"That's not exactly accurate," Colonel Claw corrected. "They had a face-to-face encounter, and they decided to call a truce between the two of them in order to try and win the objective. It's not a bad strategy – just not something that would ever work against a droid."
"They're forgetting about the rest of their squads," Commander Steed pointed out. "Do you think that's because they each want to be the hero or because they truly believe this is the best way to gain the objective?"
"That's hard to say," Colonel Claw allowed. "They're two highly ambitious men who both want to be the victor. But as CT-7567 said, if this had been real-world, this situation wouldn't even exist: he would have killed his enemy. This seems to be . . . more of a game to him now."
One of the technicians spoke up with a wily grin. "I could add some excitement to that game."
Colonel Claw shook his head slowly. "No, no. Let the two of them go unimpeded. Let's see which one wins . . . and how they feel about the costs of that victory. Focus on the remaining men in the battle; by the time it's over, I want them all taken down. If you need to manipulate the battle, you have my permission to do so."
"Yes, Sir!"
Up on the observation ring, the rest of the trainees were watching with heightened interest.
For twenty minutes they followed not only the squads' progress against each other, but also the headway of the two soloists, if they could be so labelled. The scenario was a fitting challenge, for there were so many variables that a man could not possibly account for all of them.
As the squad numbers dwindled, there was some little concern on both sides as to where their missing men were; but the action was too fast-paced for much consideration to be given.
As for CT-7567 and CT-5869, they were both discovering that navigating the obstacles inside a droid foundry was just as difficult single-handed as with the protection and power of numbers of a squad.
For the observers, it was hard to decide which part of the scenario was the most exciting to watch; although some knew exactly where their interest lay.
"Damn, it's going to be close," CT-3636 said through gritted teeth, as if he himself were running through the greased and oiled labyrinths, dodging the stamps and lathes and presses.
"Why aren't they throwing any obstacles in their paths?" CT-5052 sneered. "The controllers are making it too easy on them. The rest of their squads are blasting the drips out of each other, and those two aren't faced with anything more than . . . timing their way past machinery."
"They'll be the only ones left alive when this one's over," CT-1004 ventured.
Cody was circumspect. "CT-7567 says his one and only goal is to win."
CT-1004 grinned. "He says a lot of things."
"I think he meant this one," Cody deferred.
CT-1004 shrugged. "He has more heart than you think."
At this, CT-3636 let out a great guffaw. "Yeah, a heart for victory, no matter what the cost."
"No. No, that's not true," 1004 protested. "He does like to win, yes. But he's—he always used to . . . " He fell silent, as if it suddenly occurred to him that he was on the verge of saying something that it was not his place to say.
"What? He used to what?" 3636 pressed as Cody and the others looked on expectantly.
CT-1004 frowned. "He's not what you think he is," was all he would allow.
"What? He's not an egomaniac with delusions of grandeur?" 3636 scoffed.
Cody smiled as he put a hand on 3636's shoulder. "I think that's a bit over-the-top."
"Why? He is an egomaniac," 3636 insisted.
"He's competitive, and he has reason to be self-assured," Cody stated evenly. "He's good. I don't think any of us can deny that based on what we've seen so far."
CT-5052 interjected. "And it looks like he's about to win."
Sixty seconds later, CT-7567 had arrived at the objective.
Without the flag.
And no more than a minute later on the other end, CT-5869 arrived at his objective.
And he, too, was without the flag.
The scenario ended without a victor.
CT-7567 entered the med-bay, and the first one of his squad-mates he encountered was his squad leader.
CT-2025 actually began to laugh. "Fek and all, you could have at least—when you left us all behind—you could have at least remembered that you didn't have the flag."
"I know, I know," 7567 conceded, shaking his head with what might be mild humiliation but could just as easily be humor at his own ridiculous failure. "I'm not sure why it didn't occur to me—"
"I can tell you exactly why it didn't occur to you." This came from Captain Spicer as he entered the place to check on his Echo Squad trainees.
CT-7567 came to attention. "Sir!"
CT-2025, who had been sitting on the edge of an examination bed, scooted to his feet.
"CT-2025, sit back down. You haven't been cleared yet," Spicer ordered. "7567, come with me."
CT-7567 followed his squad advisor out of the med-bay and into the corridor.
"Explain your thinking to me," Spicer said directly.
"My thinking, Sir?"
"Your thinking in that last scenario."
"I was thinking that I wanted my squad to win," came the reply.
"You mean the squad you left behind to get slaughtered while you ran off on your personal quest for victory?" Spicer drilled.
"They didn't get slaughtered, Sir," CT-7567 resisted. "They were involved in a firefight, and both sides were defeated. The only two people who had a chance were me and CT-5869."
"So, the two of you decided to toss the scenario and turn it into a two-man contest," Spicer accused.
"That wasn't the plan," 7567 said. "It turned out that way, but that wasn't the way I went into it. The rest of the squad and I knew that we were going to have a firefight, and I was looking forward to it—"
"Looking forward to it?"
"I like to try my skills, Sir."
"Hm, and your skills weren't able to prevent the rest of your qwsquad from getting killed," Spicer challenged. "And on top of that, you didn't even have the flag. They died for nothing."
"I didn't do it on purpose," CT-7567 insisted. "I just got caught up in the moment—"
"Are you going to treat the entire six weeks like a game?"
For the first time, Captain Spicer saw something flicker in the lieutenant's eyes. A blink of insult? A grain of defensiveness? Perhaps even a jot of hurt feelings?
The captain latched onto the possibility.
"Because I find it hard to believe that anyone—even you—would be so dismissive of the risks of his actions in a war-time environment." A pause. "So, I wonder if you're going to take any of this training seriously. Are you?"
"I do take it seriously, Sir," 7567 replied with conviction. "I take it very seriously."
"I'm not sure I believe that," Spicer said. "But you'll have plenty of opportunities to show me your intentions." He paused and stared hard at him. "You came here as a highly recommended trainee, but you're not a sure thing. You want to wear the pauldron and the kama, you have to earn it. It's not going to just fall into your lap." He tilted his head and studied him. "I'm not even sure you really want to be here." He drew closer. "There are a lot of soldiers who would consider it an honor to be accepted into ARC training. You seem to think that we should be honored by your presence. Believe me, if you'd rather be back with the 729th, we can put you on the next shuttle."
"Sir, you—you misunderstand me," 7567 protested. "I do want to be here. And I—want to be the best."
"The best what?"
"The best . . . everything. I want to be the best at everything I do," 7567 replied.
Captain Spicer absorbed this and was silent a long time before speaking. "That's admirable. But keep in mind, CT-7567, this isn't about you. You're an officer, and Force willing, you just might squeak out of these six weeks as an ARC trooper. That means your responsibility isn't just to yourself. It's also to your men. You should already know that."
"I do, Sir," CT-7567 insisted. "I'd do all in my power to protect my men."
Spicer could sense there was more that the lieutenant was not saying. He prompted him to go on. "But?"
"We are soldiers," 7567 replied. "We can't decide to throw a mission in order to save ourselves. Our purpose is to win wars. Some of us—a lot of us—will die in pursuit of that goal."
The captain was silent for a moment, hearing the sincerity in 7567's words; and it occurred to him that what he was seeing on the surface was not the sum total of what lay in the man's heart.
"That's true," he said at last. "But here's what you need to keep in mind: it can't be all one way or the other. You have to find the right balance between completing the mission and protecting your men. Sacrificing your men in an unwinnable situation isn't good leadership, and it's not praise-worthy. And most important: you're not the center of the universe." He waited several seconds before asking, "Is there anything more you want to say?"
"No, Sir," CT-7567 replied in a voice that was quiet but not necessarily chastened.
"Very well, then. Dismissed."
He watched as the lieutenant turned smartly and headed back to the med-bay; and despite the impromptu counseling session, he could not help but admire him for his enthusiasm and determination, even if his judgment might still need some development.
"That will come along," he thought, then with a smile, added, "Unless he gets himself kicked out first."
Again, some foreboding of Umbara.