The Infinity Brigade #1 Stone Cold (12 page)

Once my rifle was on the ground and my duffle bag with it, the private had me raise my hands again.

“Really? Seriously? This is the game you want to play with me?” I asked.

Dimwit turned his head to speak to the man behind him. I have no idea why people do that when they are wearing a Stark suit. The microphone picking up your voice is no more effective because you are looking at the person you are speaking to.

“He’s not exactly cooperative,” Dimmit said.

“You better make sure he’s clean,” the second soldier said. I still couldn’t see him behind the guard station’s camo net.

I took a single step forward. “Now see here,” I began. I stopped when Dimmit quickly swung his rifle back at me.

“Dump your bag.”

“WHAT?”

“DUMP YOU FREAK’N BAG! We need to be sure you aren’t carrying any type of contraband into our camp.”

I carefully opened the duffle bag. On the top I always packed a small tarp. This was so I could place the tarp on the ground and keep my equipment clean. Mars was always a dusty place and the D’lralu abuses had not improved the situation.

As I started to extract the tarp my newest friend, Private Dimwit, got aggressive. He pushed me back with the butt of his weapon. If I had not been wearing a Stark suit he could easily have broken a rib or two.

He took my duffle bag from me and physically dumped in on the ground. He kicked the contents around with his foot… thus ensuring everything had a nice coating of Martian red on it.

“It looks clean,” he reported to the other soldier.

I’d have laughed at the irony if I wasn’t so pissed.

“Go ahead and pack it up,” he ordered me.

“Why certainly Private Dimwit,” I spat.

“I SAID my name was Dimmit,” he spat back while threating to hit me with the barrel of his weapon again.

Call it a personal failing but I had had enough. I sidestepped his barrel thrust and grabbed his weapon away from him. Using his momentum I struck the base of his helmet with the butt of the weapon I had just taken from him. The Stark suit kept him from being seriously hurt. What it did do was distract him long enough for me to pop the latches on his front-mounted primary battery pack. The pack dropped straight down.

“Hey,” he yelled.

“Want this?” I asked as I showed him his own rifle. When he went to reach for it I tossed it behind him. He turned watching his weapon fly smoothly through the air. As he turned, his secondary and only remaining battery was exposed. I popped a few more latches and that battery dropped like a stone as well.

Private Dimmit learned a very valuable lesson that day. A Stark suit without batteries had a lot in common with a paper weigh. Both will hold something down. Both are intrinsically inanimate.

Chapter 12: Boot Camp – Alpha Camp…

I noticed, when I finally met him that Ensign Anderson did not appear to be amused. The Alpha’s NCO, a Sergeant Cochran, had been sent to meet me at the main gate. He was late and what followed can only be called a series of screw-ups of the grandest sort. In my defense, as I have explained before, I am a deeply flawed individual and I have little tolerance for lazy thinkers like Private Dimmit.

Sergeant Cochran had arrived at the guard shack moments after Private Dimmit had begun, what I had since learned were, Alpha’s standard challenge procedures. The fact that a ‘Sergeant Stone’ had been expected had not deterred the private from being excessively thorough. Rather than stopping his private, Sergeant Cochran had encouraged him to continue. Apparently he had wanted to see what I was made of. They got their answer. I have been called ‘Stone Cold’ for a reason. When I was done, the private was immobilized, on the ground, and with a dead Stark suit.

Sergeant Cochran then came out and introduced himself. He was clapping. If you have never heard a person clap in a Stark suit imagine the sound two bulldozers might make hitting themselves against each other repeatedly. Only the thin Martian air attenuated what would have been an eardrum splitting cacophony.

In fairness, had our roles been reversed, I might have done the same thing to get the measure of Sergeant Cochran. He and I then walked back to the main camp like the best of friends… laughing the entire way. It was only when we had walked the three quarters of a kilometer back to the B-TOC that the Alpha sergeant had sent a message back to the second guard at the gate telling him that he was now allowed to replace Dimmit’s power packs.

So here we were, standing before the Alpha’s Ensign at attention.

“At Ease,” Anderson said after a few seconds. “So you make a powerful first impression Sergeant Stone. No wonder Beta was so anxious to get rid of you.”

“Sir?”

“Oh your exploits are the thing of legend Sergeant Stone. The man who almost succeeded in killing a private under his command. The man who recklessness managed to destroy not one but two very expensive Stark suits. The man whose misdeeds required the direct intervention no less than Commodore Kimbridge herself. The man, who even after being demoted managed to so ingratiate himself with his Drill Sergeants that he got himself returned to a position of responsibility… only to betray that trust by deliberately endangering the lives of two entire platoons during a training exercise by compromising critical software in their Tactical Combat Armor.”

I had a feeling my day had just gotten a whole lot worse. Sadly the Ensign was not done.

“Yes, you are the stuff of legend Sergeant Stone.”

He leaned into my face. I can only assume he picked this up from the Alpha Platoon Drill Sergeants because he didn’t strike me as imaginative enough to have come up with it on his own.

“Know this Stone,” he spat. “Your leash here is a very short one. If you fart in the wrong place… or at the wrong time… I will have you in manacles, locked in the deepest, darkest hole I can find. AM I CLEAR?”

“Crystal clear Ensign,” I responded crisply. “If I may be permitted to ask Sir; what is my role as your embedded Beta advisor?”

Ensign Anderson smiled. On some people a smile is a good thing. Ensign Anderson was not one of those people.

“Your role is simplicity itself. You are to stand as far away from me as possible and be absolutely quite. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear you. I want to be able to pretend that you are not here. And Sergeant, I’m not very good at pretending so it would behoove you to do everything in your power to not remind me that I have been cursed with your presence.”

***

The ‘two on two’ exercise began after all four platoons arrived at their preassigned starting points. The New Parris Island staff had chosen, by some arcane means that defied reasoned thought, to hold the exercise at Tharsis Montes.

We were essentially going to be playing a massive version of ‘King of the Mountain’. Tharsis Montes was a very unusual collection of three nearly equally spaced shield volcanoes located just west of Valles Marineris. They were smaller than Olympus Mons which was a little further northwest. That said, they were still roughly fifteen kilometers high each. What made these particular volcanos unusual was that they appeared in a near perfect line. The center one, Pavonis Mons was just as far from either of its neighbors, about four hundred kilometers.

Alpha and Beta platoons would take control of the southern-most peak, Arsia Mons while our adversaries. Delta and Echo Platoons would take control of the northern-most peak, Ascraeus Mons. 

Our objective was simple in theory but difficult in practice. We were to retain control of our piece of the planet while being the first to plant our flag at a specific set of geo-coordinates located in the center of Pavonis’ caldera or lava dome. The only thing in our way were two platoons of highly motivated Marine
wannabes.

For this exercise the Drill Sergeants would lead the first of what promised to be many assaults. Part of this was due to the magnitude of this endeavor. Our closest objective was over four hundred kilometers away. Our secondary object, the enemy’s camp, was more than twice that. When you start dealing with distances this great there is a lot of room for novice soldiers to get themselves into trouble.

This was the first time I met the Drill Cadre assigned to Alpha Platoon. In fairness, they seemed every bit as intimidating as our Drills. The biggest difference was they treated me with a much higher degree of respect than Acting Ensign Anderson. I’m not sure if this was because they were hoping to lead through example and get the Ensign to loosen up and use me for the asset I was; or if it was just role playing because I was the ‘embedded’ expert on all things
Beta
.  

              Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery met with the Ensign and NCOs of Alpha Platoon and laid out the action plan for the morning’s activities. Ensign Anderson had invited me to leave, as my presence would not be required, but the Senior Drill overruled him. My guess was this did not win me any points in the Ensign’s ‘
I love this guy
’ book. That said, I did my best to remain unobtrusive and yet helpful. I was mindful of what my Senior Drill had said to me about needing to work with people who, though senior, were less capable than I was. That certainly reflected my current assessment of the situation with Ensign Anderson.

“Our objectives are two fold and so we are going to be working with Beta Platoon to meet both those objectives. First we are going to send a team to infiltrate the enemy’s home base. As it turns out Beta platoon has developed quite a reputation for accomplishing this type of activity… and has agreed to lend us their expertise in such matters.” Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery turned, and I kid you not… he literally waved at me with a broad grin on his face. So much for me trying to fly under the radar.

“Our primary objective,” he continued, “is to plant our flag at coordinates 0.5.0, 247.1.0… right smack in the middle of the Pavonis Mons caldera. Obviously our adversaries are going to be doing their damnedest to stop us from accomplishing either task.”

He stopped to look at each of us… taking our measure in the way only a trained Drill Sergeant can. “This means we have three tasks to accomplish and limited resources with which to accomplish them.”

Ensign Anderson raised his hand. I turned to look in his direction… curious as to what he might want to ask. Montgomery nodded for him to speak.

“Excuse me Senior Drill. But we have two objectives… what is this third task?”

I groaned on the inside. How had this recruit ever been picked to be the Ensign? I could live with the fact that he just didn’t seem to like me but that fact that he seemed to be as sharp as a month-old razor baffled my mind.

The Senior Drill must have seen the astonishment in my gaze. Sergeant Cochran had managed to keep his eyes down but I knew he was as taken back by the Ensign’s question as I was.

“Sergeant Stone,” Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery said with an amused smile on his face, “would you care to enlighten our befuddled Ensign as to what three tasks need doing?”

I was seriously tempted to answer ‘No’ but I knew that playing dumb was not one of my core competencies. Besides, I had little expectation that the Alpha’s Senior Drill would allow me to get away with it. I did what I could to help the Ensign save face.

“Senior Drill, what I’m sure the Ensign is attempting to confirm is that you expect us to send contingents to each of the assault objects as well as retain a sniper team at our base camp in order to defend our AO from enemy infiltrators.”

“Yessss,” the Senior Drill said with a knowing drawl. “I’m sure that’s what he meant. And yes you are absolutely correct. Why do you suppose, Sergeant, the Ensign would want to leave snipers behind? Surely snipers would be very useful in either of the assault teams.”

“Well, Sergeant, if the Ensign is thinking the way I am, he would recognize that he could defend the high ground near our Area of Operations with fewer troops if he leaves behind a few good snipers. Numbers will likely be more valuable in the field than in defending our AO.”

“So you believe this is what the Ensign is thinking?”

“Well obviously Drill Sergeant I can’t speak for the Ensign but I’m sure he’s a smart man and this seems like a smart play… to me at least Drill Sergeant.

Montgomery nodded. “It seems like a smart play to me too. Excellent idea Ensign Anderson. Who did you have in mind to lead the defense forces?”

Anderson looked at me. I could see in his eyes that he was not amused by what had just happened. I couldn’t blame him. I had tried to smooth things over as best I could but there is only so much damage control you can do when a person insists on making a fool of themselves.

“Sergeant… I mean, Drill Sergeant… Senior Drill Sergeant… I think…” Anderson began.

“Hold it… don’t say another word,” Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery said. He held his hand to his head as if he were holding an envelope in it. “You were thinking a sergeant should be left in charge… Am I right?”

Anderson nodded.

“Which Sergeant would that be?” Montgomery prompted.

Both Sergeant Cochran and I saw where this train-wreck was going and it was not a pretty sight. The saddest part was neither of us believed the Ensign would arrive at the correct solution on his own.

Anderson seemed to realize he was in trouble but in the way of a field mouse seeing the hawk swoop in… he was powerless to do anything about it. “I think Sergeant Cochran would make an excellent choice.”

“Interesting,” Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery said. “We have two major offensive objectives and the leader your men most trust you would keep back here out of the conflict. Does that really make sense?”

Ensign Anderson, realizing he had made a mistake, tried to recover. “But in this instance Sergeant Stone might be the better choice.”

“That might be the case except we have already established that Sergeant Stone has particular infiltration skills that we will need at our secondary objective. No I’m afraid selecting one of the Sergeants would be out of the question,” Senior Drill Montgomery said with a theatrically exaggerated sigh.

“You want ME to stay behind?”

“And deprive our brave troops of your inspired leadership? Of course not! Sergeants can either of you suggest a possible course of action that might make better sense?”

Sergeant Cochran looked at me and I nodded. Together we said two words.

“Brevet Corporal”

“Outstanding!” Montgomery cheered. “Would you care to explain the concept to the Ensign?”

I clamped my lips shut. I wouldn’t give a piss for my chances of ever having a viable working relationship with the Ensign. I wasn’t about to do anything that might make it worse. Thankfully Sergeant Cochran stepped up to the plate.

“A Brevet promotion is allowed under GCP promotion guideline GC94.001-c. It states that a member of any of the armed forces may be promoted on a temporary basis by a person of higher rank for the duration of a particular action. Said promotion does not become permanent; nor does it result in a change of pay; nor may it equal or exceed the rank of the promoting officer.”

“It further goes on to specify,” Senior Drill Sergeant Montgomery continued, “that said promotion should be no higher than required for the action to be undertaken.”