Merkiaari Wars: 02 - What Price Honour (32 page)

“He’s free and clear,” Rutledge said shaking his head in admiration. “We could have used him back in the war.”

Stone nodded. “Disconnect him would you?”

“You’re the boss,” Rutledge said and went to do that.

Zack Gordon had a perfect score. No dead resistance fighters, fifteen dead Merki commanders and dozens of other lowly males dead on his way in. Not only that, he had escaped unscathed
and
undetected. He had led a charmed life in the sim. He hoped it extended to waking life as well.

Stone watched Richmond blast the Merkiaari into next year and smiled grimly. Just as Rutledge said, it was uncanny how her performance had matched his own run in the simulator—almost move for move. Her plan was a good one. So what if it was similar to one he had used to test the simulation? It didn’t have to mean what he thought. She might be just that good. Without question she
was
that good, but maybe her previous experience with his download had something to do with it. She did still use retro on occasion. Marion had mentioned it to him more than once. Maybe his download at HQ had a greater impact upon her than he had first thought. Watching her was almost like watching himself… except she was prettier.

He pursed his lips. It would probably be better not to share his suspicion with the others. Scratch that. It would definitely be better not to share it. Besides, he hadn’t lied when he told her the effect would wear off with time.

Richmond turned to run just as another enemy squad appeared. She went down under a hail of gauss slugs and plasma, still firing her rifle, but it was the action of someone already dead. He stared into her lifeless eyes on the monitor and shivered. He ignored the legend that appeared. He already knew what it said.

Subject Terminated

 The screen cleared and began detailing the mission and Richmond’s stats. He ignored the data and went to disconnect her from her rig. The computers would automatically store her run in the archives.

Richmond started disconnecting the sensors as he walked up. “You had me worried there for a minute, Sarge. I almost believed it was real.”

He grunted. “Wait until you try one of my interactive simulations.”

“Interactive? All simulations are interactive.”

“Mine are more so. Direct connection via your node gives me the ability to link the simulator rigs into one programme. You might find yourself leading your squad on a mission, but they won’t be constructs, they’ll be other recruits on the link.”

“Sounds interesting,” Richmond said. “When do we do that?”

“After you’ve learned to use a few more of our toys.”

Richmond helped him remove the sensors from her body and then slipped into her uniform. Gordon was already with the others receiving congratulations. Richmond went to join him.

“Listen up,” Stone said and the recruits quieted. “You have time for a meal before we head over to the range. It’s time you used a real rifle.”

“Sergeant?”

“What is it, Cragg?” Stone sighed. There was always someone with questions in this bunch. Why couldn’t they wait?

“When will we get our V2s?”

“Why? Have you someone you want to shoot?”

“No, Sergeant,” Cragg said seriously. “I want to practice my target acquisition. I’m not happy with how long it took me in the sim.”

“You could always go back in… no?” Stone said with amusement. “You will all be issued your rifles and pistols when I’m sure you won’t blow someone’s brains out by accident. Until then, you’ll use what I give you and be satisfied. Clear?”

“Yes, Sergeant!” the recruits shouted as one.

“Good.
Move it out!
” Stone roared and they double-timed to the mess hall.

* * *

Target shooting range, Petruso Base

Kate opened her present with the others of her squad. The box held a viper’s side arm, a plasma pistol quite unlike any she had ever seen outside of the simulators. The butt of the weapon had a modified grip to accept targeting data from her data bus, an oversize magazine she estimated must hold sixty rounds or more, and looking at the housing for the power cell, she estimated that she could fire it non-stop for an hour. She pulled it out of the box and raised it to sight on one of the targets down range.

“Don’t even think of pointing that in my direction, Recruit,” Sergeant Rutledge said glaring at her.

She laughed along with her squadmates.

“Sarge?” Cragg said. “What gives with the serial numbers?”

“Well now,” Rutledge drawled rolling his eyes. “What do
you
think?”

“So only I can use it?”

“Give the boy a cigar.” Rutledge shook his head as if wondering what his beloved regiment was coming to. “The General has a thing about leaving weapons lying for the bad guys to pick up. He got himself shot like that once. He didn’t like it. So he says, why not key the fu… why not key them to an individual unit? Everyone looked around scratching their heads for a little while, and then said why not? Your pistol talks to your processor all the time anyway, the mod was easy.”

“What happens if they get mixed up?” Gordon asked innocently.

Rutledge studied the ceiling and shook his head muttering about fool questions. “Make sure it
doesn’t,
” he roared. “If anyone depresses the trigger without the weapon receiving the correct serial number, its innards will fuse and likely blow your hand off. Now, we can give you a new hand no problem at all, but a sidearm like them pistols costs a lot of money. Don’t mix them up!”

Kate liked Rutledge. The sergeant knew how to get his point across without going into hysterics like some others she had known. Some would fly into a spittle spraying rage, and look close to having a seizure when confronted by a new batch of recruits.

Rutledge pulled his pistol from the holster on his hip, and held it up for the recruit’s inspection. “This here is a M2911-V2. The V2 is a hand held pulser with a range close to a klick, and a killing range of about half of that. This here,” he pointed to the magazine projecting down just in front of the trigger guard. “This here is your magazine. Sixty round capacity as standard, but there is an extended capacity mag available taking you to ninety rounds of caseless AP blaster ammunition. We don’t use them often—they interfere with a quick draw. However, it is
remotely
conceivable that you lot will graduate. If that happens, you might need it for an undercover op where the restriction will not apply.”

Kate nodded. No one on such an op would display her weapon by wearing it in a holster. She would hide it within her clothing, or something similar, and lose speed anyway. If speed wasn’t a consideration, firepower might be.

“This,” Rutledge said popping open a small hatch at the rear of the pistol. “This is your power cell compartment. It takes the standard cell of course, but it’s prone to fouling. We’ve been unable to neutralise the problem completely. When replacing the cell—it’s good for an hour when firing at medium settings by the way—make certain the hatch is downward and that the contacts on the cell are free of any garbage. Do not put your fingers inside.” He glared around. “The contacts are resilient, but nothing is perfect. If you get any crud inside, you’ll have to strip the whole thing down to get it out. Clear?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Kate said along with the rest of her platoon.

Rutledge didn’t look convinced. “You will note there is no safety. Wrong. There
is
a safety and it’s built into you. The weapon will take its orders from you via the bus. It’s always safe until it’s in a viper’s right hand. Then all bets are off.

“In your box, you will find a magazine. Load it with one; that is
one
round of AP ammunition. Do it now.” He watched the recruits do that. “Well done,” he said sarcastically. “With the weapon in your right hand, and the mag in your left, load the weapon. Take note of your display. It will show your pistol icon at the top right corner in red. As you load, it should change to green and display the numeral one. This is your ammo indicator, and it’s located just below the charge indicator that should say one hundred percent. Anyone who does not have the display as described, tell me now.”

“I don’t, Sarge,” Gordon called raising his hand.

Rutledge shook his head. “I said in your
right
hand, Gordon. That’s the one with the gold thing in your palm. Got it?”

“Sorry, Sarge,” Gordon said and beamed as his display lit as described.

Rutledge sighed and turned back to his recruits. “Now then. This is the fun part. Keep your weapon pointed at the ceiling and do what I tell you. Access your weapon display—you all know how from the classroom demo. Set the weapon to minimum. If anyone fires at max I’ll chew him a new arsehole, and I’ll know—
believe
me.” Rutledge locked eyes with each of the recruits and then nodded. “With the weapon pointed
up
, fire one round.”

Three squads, each containing ten units, fired into the plascrete ceiling. Kate beamed as if at an old friend, Gordon was examining the burn on the ceiling and noting the scarring, but Kate was more interested in her display. It read zero ammo now of course, but the charge indicator hadn’t even twitched. Economical in power use was good. In the field she might need that.

“The ceiling is still there, so I know you all did what I told you,” Rutledge said. “I like that. Load your magazines to capacity this time; that is
sixty rounds
of AP ammunition for those of you with defective hearing. Do not load your weapons. When ready move to your assigned lane and wait.”

Kate quickly loaded her magazine and moved to her lane. The long narrow tunnel went off into the distance. Remembering Rutledge’s claim that the V2 had a range of a full klick, she bet the lanes went at least that far. That meant the bunker must extend well under the woods to the west, but not under the foothills and mountains beyond. Not unless there were other, longer ranged, toys to play with. Knowing the regiment’s reputation, she was suddenly sure there were.

“Facing down range, load your weapons,” Rutledge said loudly from behind her as he walked by her. “Increase magnification on your visual sensors…”

Visual sensors? That was one way of saying it, but it was a little strange calling her eyes sensors. She zoomed down range and found the target easily. Her range finder said it was exactly five hundred metres away.

“Aim your weapon,” Rutledge said. “When you’re on target, you should have a revolving diamond displaying that fact, just like in the sims. Your pistols are not self seek weapons. The diamond does not indicate lock on as it would with some of our other toys. In this case, the diamond indicates where your shot will hit. Move your weapon to the head of the target, and note the diamond moves to show the new location.”

Kate moved her weapon in a rock steady hand, and watched the reticule dance and revolve. She moved it off target altogether, and the diamond swung out of view, briefly fixing on something out of sight before disappearing. She ordered her processor to magnify the current view and zoomed passed the target. There was a maintenance hatch in the wall of the tunnel. That was what the diamond had found. She quickly zoomed out and moved her pistol back on target.

“…your weapon at semi-automatic, and fire a three round burst to the head of your target,” Rutledge was saying as he passed behind the recruits again.

Kate depressed the trigger and watched the silhouette of the Merki trooper begin to disintegrate. She was pleased with the accuracy. A plasma pistol wasn’t usually so good, but with targeting like this, she couldn’t miss. What would a single shot on maximum do? A lot more than the minimum setting they were using now she bet.

“Good,” Rutledge said. “Switch to fully automatic and empty your magazines into the target. Do it now.”

Kate passed the command to her processor and her weapon’s status icon confirmed the change. She squeezed her trigger and held firm as her pistol emptied itself into the target. The recoil this time was excessive, and she found herself wanting to correct a rightward drift. The moment she noticed it, it was corrected, but she wasn’t surprised. Her new body was learning.

“Your ammo indicator should now read zero, and your charge indicator will read ninety-nine percent,” Rutledge said. “Anyone not have that—Gordon?”

Everyone laughed, but they did indeed have indicators as described.

“You will have noticed your processor adjusting your aim. This is automatically handled when your target recognition software, or TRS, is online—as it is now. Your processors have stored the new data and have recalibrated your servos.”

“Sir?”

“What is it Cragg?” Rutledge said.

“Will my servos remain calibrated with TRS
off
line?”

“Well now. Who says TRS can be taken offline?” Rutledge said in amusement.

“I just thought I could.”