Dear Reader, First, thank you to my reviewers of the last couple chapters: Ms CT-782, the Suffering Soldier, the Unnamed Guest, OakytheOaktree and Sued13. I do appreciate very much knowing that folks are reading and enjoying the story! I wanted to address a couple questions from those reviewers very quickly! The question about the use of parachutes versus jetpacks. I like to keep parachutes on the table as a way of getting into a location fully undetected. Remember, in the second chapter, that's how Rex and Co. get on the ground on Pylotta - parachuting. That's why I wanted to give it special mention as part of ARC training. Plus, the love of my life was an avid jumper. Then, the question of CT-7567 and the parachute mishap in the last chapter will be answered in this chapter! ;-) I appreciate folks being interested enough to ask questions and speculate! In fact, a lot of speculation is spot on! Peace, CS

Chapter 58 ARCs and Cadets

"Nothing would be done at all if one waited until one could do it so well that no one could find fault with it."

John Cardinal Newman

"I heard you had some excitement today," Cody stated as he joined his room-mate in the mess-hall for dinner.

"You could say that," CT-7567 answered. "Not the kind of excitement I'd care to repeat."

"I also heard that you saved a man's life," the commander went on.

CT-7567 seemed perhaps the smallest bit uncomfortable. "Barely."

"Barely was good enough." This came from CT-8462 as he sat down next to his squad-mate. "If you hadn't been there, I'd be nothing but a splatter on the ground."

"It was you?" Cody inquired.

"Yep," 8462 replied. "The arming device pulled loose between my container and my wrist control. Neither my main chute nor my reserve would deploy."

"Now, that's what I call really bad luck," Cody said with contrived lightness, wanting to be sure that the topic did not devolve into morbid what ifs.

"Yes, but the lieutenant here caught me," 8462 said with Shinie awe.

CT-7567 frowned. "Don't forget the other side of the story, that I'm the one who screwed up your arming device."

"I don't think that's true, Sir," 8462 disagreed. "I saw the riggers after we got back to the tarmac, and they took a look at the arming pin where it connected to the fasteners. They thought it was likely that the fastener had been bent on the previous landing and that's why it didn't close properly, that it wasn't the slider at all. The stress of that last jump separated the pin from the fastener, which was already over-extended."

This explanation still did not seem to appease 7567. "I should have caught that. I probably have more experience jumping than anyone but the instructors. I should have caught that."

"Even the riggers and the jumpmaster missed it," 8462 pointed out.

"Yeah, because I forced the two pieces together. If they'd seen how difficult it was, they'd have known something was wrong," 7567 said. "I blew it; let me feel my failure for a little bit. It won't overpower me."

From the other end of the table, CT-5052 spoke up as the same time as getting to his feet. "It should. A mistake like that? It should keep you awake at night." He began walking away to bus his tray.

"He saved my life," 8462 said pointedly. "No one else could have done what he did."

"He also put your life in danger. That was due to his negligence," 5052 rejoined. "The fact that he was able to save you . . . that's luck."

"5052, that's enough," Cody interjected. "Let's all just be glad that what could have been a tragedy was averted."

CT-5052 said nothing in reply, but his expression spoke volumes. He continued on his way.

CT-2025, 5052's roommate, drew in a long, deep breath. "Let me go talk to him."

Commander Cody spoke evenly. "He needs to check his attitude. He's been critical of everything from the start, but his negative demeanor is starting to wear thin."

"He's not a bad guy, not when it's just the two of us," 2025 explained. "He's got . . . I can tell something's bothering him, but I don't think he wants me to ask about it."

Cody nodded. He would not pursue the matter any further in front of the others. Some things were better handled in private, without a curious audience. "See what you can do," he said. He looked across the table at CT-7567, who appeared only slightly perturbed and who, in the next second, changed the subject completely.

"What did your squad having going today?"

"Overground march," Cody replied, then he added almost wistfully, "It was very . . . great."

"Great? A road-march is great?"

"It wasn't a straight road-march," Cody deferred. "We went into the mountains. It was more like a hike."

"What was the point of the exercise?" 7567 asked.

"I think it was to emphasize teamwork. We had no equipment with us, and there were times we had to scale some pretty steep terrain. We had to work together. It was a good experience," Cody explained.

"Do you ever have a bad experience?" 7567 asked with a chirp.

"Not if I can help it," Cody winked. "But it takes work."

"I'll bet."

The rest of the meal passed in meaningless banter, but Cody noticed that CT-7567 was a bit more reserved than usual. On their way towards yet another evening instruction on unaided navigation, the commander decided that, as the senior officer and the roommate, he would follow in the vein of CT-2025 and see what help he could offer.

"You were pretty quiet during dinner," he began. "That was a first."

"Enh, I didn't have much to say," came the disinterested response.

After a brief hesitation, Cody posed, "You're not bothered by what 5052 said, are you?"

"No," 7567 replied. "He hasn't had many nice things to say about me since day one." A pause. "But I am disgusted with myself for missing the problem with the fastener." He stopped and turned to face the commander squarely. "I knew, Cody. I knew that it wasn't normal for it to be so hard to close the damned thing. I knew that!"

Cody regarded him with equanimity. "Then why did you decide to overlook it?"

"Because I didn't think it would cause a problem!"

Cody was surprised by the anguish in the reply.

"I didn't think—I didn't think it would stop his parachute from opening."

They both stood quietly, waiting for several other trainees to overtake them.

Once the others were past, Cody shunted his roommate into a side passageway, and speaking in a low voice, said, "You can't foresee every possibility. You didn't know there was going to be trouble; but once it happened, you took action. There's no sense in dwelling on it."

"But I should have brought it to the rigger's attention—"

"It's called making a mistake. You made an error in judgment. It happens to everyone," Cody persisted. "And now, it's one mistake you're a lot less likely to make in the future."

"Yeah, but you saw CT-8462 . . . he thinks I'm a hero. And I'm the one who messed it up."

"You're also the one who made good on your mistake," Cody reminded him. "8462 is a Shinie. He's looking at us experienced guys to show him how to act – when things are going good and when they're not going so good." He considered before speaking his next words; after all, CT-7567 was still something of a hotshot wildcard. "You've shown him an example; and it was clear, back there, that he thinks the universe of you." A pause. "And we both know how important it is that our men trust and respect us. You and I have plenty of experience leading men in front-line units. Now, I may not understand your leadership style, but I can't argue against its effectiveness. One mistake is hardly a reason to start questioning yourself."

"I'm not questioning myself," 7567 pointed out. "I already know all the how's and why's of what happened." He grimaced, as if the whole subject were causing him pain. "I'm angry. Angry that I let it happen. Angry that I'm afraid . . . I'm afraid it will keep me up at night."

Cody squinted at him curiously. "So, what you said in the dining hall, that bit about not being overwhelmed by guilt . . . that wasn't true?"

CT-7567 was silent for a few seconds before answering. "In war, things move so fast that there's no time to feel guilty. We go from one battle to the next and barely—we don't even have time to mourn the men we lost in the last battle. But . . . "

Cody could not explain it, but he felt that he was getting very close to something – something that might go a long way to explaining the inner workings of his roommate's mercurial mind.

"But . . . what?"

And for a moment, he thought he might actually get an answer. But then, CT-7567 shook his head in a definitive manner. "Nothing. I'm just rambling. Come on, we're going to be late for the lab, and I don't need any more gigs."

Cody sighed and thought to himself, "How can a man who appears so open have so many walls around him?"

Two days later.

"One of the ARC trooper's greatest strengths is his ability to lead. While it's true that most of you will be going back to line units on permanent assignment, there's a chance that some of you might find your way into the AG." Major Tides was referring to the very small, elite group of ARC troopers who were divvyed out as needed to augment other units on special missions. "Why, some of you might even be good enough to get picked for the cadre. In any event, you will need to be able to win over the trust and loyalty of your men from the get-go."

He paced slowly in front of the assembled trainees.

"You've spent your lives thus far with your batchers. You grew up together. You trained together. And now you've gone to war together. But as ARC troopers, a lot of you will not be going back to your batchers. You'll be going wherever the war effort most needs you. If you're in the AG, you may end up in a new unit with a new group soldiers every other week. The speed with which you establish trust and develop solid leadership will be crucial."

He stopped pacing and faced the neat and orderly ranks.

"With that in mind, with this class we've decided to implement a new program," Tides went on. "You will be paired up with a fellow trainee and then put in charge of a batch of cadets. You will be given a land navigation assignment with minimal equipment, minimal rations, and a certain amount of time to get to the endpoint." A rather sneaky grin played across his face. "The goal is to see how well you can lead a group of men under the most austere circumstances. You will recall from your own training days, that most exercises included the use of computers and other advanced equipment. That's what these cadets are used to, as well. All of that will be taken away for this exercise."

He pulled up large 2-d projection map of the planet's surface. "No group will be within a hundred miles of each other. We have more than enough training areas all over the planet to be able to keep any two teams from running into each other. To be sure, gentlemen, this is not a race. Let me repeat that: this is not a race. It's meant to test your leadership and your ability to work without the . . . convenience of current technology. The exercise is meant to last four days, and it will be remotely monitored via satellite and drone. None of the cadre will be with you, but we'll be able to respond to any emergency situation that might arise." A pause. "On the wall are numbers one through forty. These are the team numbers. When I call your number, go stand by your team number. Team number one: CT-1080-1 and CT-9292. Team number two . . . "

CT-7567 turned to CT-2025 and said under his breath, "Kripes, they're going to pair me up with CT-5052. Just watch."

But when CT-5052's number was called, he was paired with CT-2541, a trainee in Gandar Squad with whom CT-7567 was not familiar.

"Dodged a blaster bolt there," 7567 thought something whimsically. "Okay, I can handle anyone else—"

"Team Number fourteen: CT-3636 and CT-7567."

For a moment, CT-7567 was still.

In fact, neither man moved.

While there might not be quite the degree of apparent antipathy from 3636 as there was from 5052, it was not lost on anyone present that the cadre had just put together two extremely dominant personalities.

"Are you two darlings waiting for an engraved invitation? Go to your number," Tides ordered, making sure to put just the right amount of snark in his voice.

CT-7567 and CT-3636 both rallied what was left of their military bearing and strode to the number fourteen placard on the wall.

Neither spoke.

The rest of the team pairings were announced.

CT-7567 made a special point of noting who Commander Cody was paired with. CT-1944, the staff sergeant from the 3d Infantry Regiment – as agreeable and enthusiastic as a man could be. It hardly seemed fair.

"Tonight at 2000 hours, you will return here and break into your pairs. A member of the cadre will be assigned to each team to give them a briefing on their exercise and instructions for reporting tomorrow morning. You will meet your cadet platoons tomorrow just prior to the start of the exercise. Your cadre advisor will tell you what you can and can't bring and what the uniform will be. You won't all have the same type of terrain. Dismissed!"

CT-7567 turned to his partner. "See you at 2000 hours."

CT-3636 sneered. He wasn't going to hide his distaste with the situation. "You'd think they put us together on purpose just to get on my nerves."

"Hm. I was thinking the same thing."

"Tinderhout."

"Tinderhout?"

"The region here inside the green line. It's called Tinderhout." The cadre advisor's name was Clicks, Sergeant Major Clicks; and he was certainly not a man to be taken lightly. He presented as a master mountaineer, an expert in the area of land navigation and high country crossing. But Tinderhout, he informed them gravely, was not "high ground." Not part of Tinderhout reached over 700 meters. Still, "it's not the height that makes the challenge; it's the terrain and its weather."

"Your starting point is going to be here at L'Edale. Your ending point here at Bledloe. In between's a lot of steep climbs and rocky passages. Dozens of mountain streams, a few cascades. You've got to beware of the weather up there, boys. Comes up fast. If it comes from the south or the east, you'll probably have fair warning. From the north and west . . . that's when it's dangerous. This planet has high strata atmospheric winds that can cause all kinds of trouble at all elevations, so don't take unnecessary risks if you see something coming at you." He ran his hand over the hard-copy map laid out in front of them. "This is all you're going to have as a guide. This, a compass, and a Mylar protractor. Time to see if you remember your old-school training."

"I'll be fine with old school," CT-3636 stated. "But these cadets . . . the way they train them now, they don't learn how to do anything unless it involves a computer. How are they going to handle being without their gadgets?"

"I guess that'll depend on you, Commander," the sergeant major replied, and his voice contained a slight undertone of challenge. "A good ARC trooper will make them forget their gadgets ever existed."

CT-7567 smiled to himself but remained silent.

"So, what else are we allowed to bring with us?" CT-3636 asked.

"For starters, you won't be wearing your armor. Class IV fatigues with packs. As the two men in charge, you'll both have a few more supplies than your cadets. I'll provide you the list when we're done with the briefing. You will have your weapons. Some of your cadets will have specialty items. It will be up to the two of you to ascertain the status and equipage of your platoon once you meet them tomorrow."

"Will we meet up with them here or at the starting point?"

"Here." The sergeant major looked at CT-7567. "Lieutenant, do you have any questions?"

"No," came the reply. "Just anxious to get started."

The sergeant major nodded. "Then I'll leave you to it. Report to hangar C-7 tomorrow morning at 0400 sharp, and be ready to go."

"Yes, sergeant major."

Now alone in the room together, CT-7567 deferred to the commander, who was looking over the list of acceptable items. "What do you think?"

CT-3636 didn't raise an eye. "About what?"

"About the mission. I think we should take some time tonight to plan a route, maybe see if we can get some weather forecasts—"

"You handle the forecasts. I'll handle the route."

"It would be a good idea if we looked at the route together," 7567 stated, not in the least intimidated by the commander's dismissive manner.

CT-3636 looked up slowly. "We don't have much time to prepare. It's better for us to split the duties. You handle the forecasts. I'll handle the route." He was about to return to the list, but another thought came to him. "And it will look bad if we disagree or argue with each other in front of the cadets. Let's make sure we keep it between us."

"Agreed," 7567 said with a single nod. He could have kept silent at that point, but he had something he wanted to say, and he figured now was as good a time as any. "We should also remember, Commander, that for the purposes of ARC training, we're equals. We should try to work things out as a leadership team."

CT-3636 gave a one-sided and fairly insincere grin. "I'll keep that in mind."

Hangar C-7.

Zero-four-hundred sharp.

CT-7567 was there. CT-3636 was there.

The cadet platoon was there. Thirty-men strong, standing at parade rest in perfect formation, wearing their Class IV fatigues, their 60-pound packs sitting neatly at their feet.

In those days, very few cadets had the audacity to alter their appearance. It went against regulations, good order and discipline; and the idea of uniqueness played no important role in the development of a fighting force.

The same held true for these cadets. One or two might have a somewhat altered haircut, but there was no color but brown; no tattoes, no shaved heads. They were, from all appearances, fine replicas of their template and mostly indistinguishable one from the other.

As CT-7567 and 3636 approached, one of the cadets snapped to attention. "Platoon, atten-CHUN!"

The platoon came to attention. The cadet stepped forward. He was one of the few with a different haircut from the others – a high and tight with a sort of flat-top that launched slightly over his forehead. And there was a gleam in his eyes that reflected an eagerness that CT-7567 immediately found appealing.

"Platoon 28646-11B reporting!" the cadet barked out.

"Very good," 7567 replied. "I'm CT-7567. This is CT-3636. We're going to be your platoon leaders for this exercise."

"Yes, Sir!"

"And you are?" 7567 asked.

"CT-4441," came the crisp reply. "My batchers chose me to represent them to you." He seemed to be enjoying his moment. "First Squad!" The first column took one step forward. "This is Orange Squad. Second Squad!" The second column followed suit, and in turn CT-4441 introduced Predator Squad, Quest Squad, and Raptor Squad. When he called the final column forward, he seemed to take a notch up in pride. "And last, but always first, my squad – Saber Squad."

*A few notes. For those of you who might have raised an eye at Tinderhout and L'Edale . . . yes, yes, I ripped them off from one of my favorite hiking areas in the world - Kinder Scout in the Peaks District of England! In fact, Tinderhout will bear a striking resemblance to that whole area!

Gadgets . . . does it sound like I'm talking about today's kids and their fascination with their gadgets? I am!

CT-7567 and CT-3636 together . . . this was not the pairing in my original draft of this story, but I changed it so we can have some contention ;-)

Lastly . . . I hope you all recall Saber Squad from earlier in the story (this is Jesse, Hardcase, Kix, Top, and Pitch).