Jay was discharged from a medical facility on Alta, the main planet of the system named after it, and left through the main doors, where he took a minute to pause and take in his surroundings. The hospital was situated on a hill and a series of cars rotated out of the roundabout, departing with similarly discharged patients. He had minor fractures in his ribs and a minor concussion, but ultimately, he was screened by medical personnel from the Stellar Fleet.
He was given a set of paperwork gathered from the planet's Republic Bureau of Citizens and pulled his records. He was going to need them for the local recruitment offices.
Since losing Kam and his ship, Jay had felt nothing but regret since his time back on land. For the people, he let down and his failure to warn the authorities caused many to lose their lives. He was still unsure of the conclusion on Draxis but was assured by the captain of the ship that transported him here.
He sluggishly resolved himself and took the main rail to a location where the armed forces held their recruiting office in his part of the city.
The city he resided in was named Altamir. It was a city most noted for its buildings not being any higher than the hill the hospital sat upon. It overlooked much of the city that set itself within a valley of hills, with trees littering the areas surrounding the buildings at the base of the hills. As such, a mix of buildings and trees flooded the valleys.
The rail he took would cut through the main heart of Altamir and his ride ended shortly past the first main stop in the heart of the city.
He departed the car and a gentle breeze moved through the air, rustling the leaves and grass. The noise of civilians was louder than he expected and stepping off the rail, he made his way down from the station and onto the main walkway. Much of the city was designed with pedestrians in mind and as such, the city placed a heavy emphasis on communal travel. This followed well across the planet and only those who lived out by the farms – and even more, the rural areas – found more common use for them.
As a result, the pedestrian walkways made their way into the alleyways of buildings and, since the pathways were well maintained, kept a standard of beauty for those who walked them. Throughout the city, larger open areas were prime real estate for the use of expensive and artistic works. Such as in the plaza before the rail station was the depiction of a pair of birds intertwined. The color of the birds contrasted with the white granite it was chiseled in, and some would occasionally take photos of it from above the stairs that led into the station.
Jay continued past the plaza and followed a road north, beside one of the few roads in the area. Shops lined the sides of the walkway and the further he traveled, the smaller the buildings became.
Even though it was late morning and the sun was rising to its zenith, the trees provided ample coverage for shade to the point where some areas were darker than others due simply to tree density. As he walked, he would occasionally peer into the alleyways and noticed small decorations for food shops, steam actively emitting from the entrance with the light of the shop illuminating the steam with a soft yellow glow.
There were many instances of this, and believed there to be a plethora of nightlife he was unaware of. He did take the time to detour one of these shops and noticed they were embedded into the small crevices of buildings, with a row of seats before the chefs and a small walkway behind them. He knew it to be a tight squeeze that he could attempt but carried on his path.
Jay made it to a gated entry with the gate itself open and a road leading into the compound, a sidewalk paved beside it. The road led to a small lot where a few cars were parked on his left and to his right was a paved zone big enough for at most a large-sized drop-ship. The zone was currently empty, and Jay continued on the walkway that led itself between the car lot and the landing pad toward a one-story building that extended halfway between the lot and the pad.
The area before the building was filled with dirt, and the prints of shoes littered the width of the dirt trail. The closer he advanced, the sounds of yelling could be heard from behind the building, along with the sounds of young responses.
The building itself had a series of large windows running across the central part of it, and within it were promotional advertisements related to each branch. Each one surrounded a door that led to their respective recruiter. From the left was the Orbital Guard, Stellar Fleet, with additions of the Marines and Air force, and finally the Raiders.
Since the time of commercial and easy access to space travel, the military decided to merge some branches under a singular entity. Therefore, the Marines and Air force were merged under the Stellar Fleet.
The Orbital Guard used to be the army, and they now have two branches of desired placements. If you were placed on an Orbital Station as its crew and security, then you were part of the rightly named Orbital Guard. For a more dedicated offensive force on the ground, you would take the job of the Guard Troopers. It was a specification like any job, and one in the Orbital Guard could switch between two.
The Orbital Raiders were the only new branch that stood on its own but shared relations with the other two. They had no medical and no dedicated transport, so they relied heavily on the navy to take them where they needed to go. Their roots were based on the early iterations of the Orbital Guard, back when they operated an airborne unit in the early 20th and 21st centuries. At least that's what he read in the pamphlets the Fleet docs gave him.
He stood before the doors, deciding what he wished to apply to. He had briefly told Commander O'Clair of his intention to join the Raiders – but he wavered. In his time in the hospital, he constantly looked over each branch and who would best confront the enemy. His best bet would be the fleet.
Currently, most fights are waged in the stars, and being aboard one of the combat ships would let him see the most action if he were to be a weapons operator. However, he felt an obligation deep within him to make it personal.
'Who better yet than the Raiders?' he said to himself.
He was then called out by an individual in a gray short-sleeve button-up shirt and black tie, tucked into black slacks with a silver stripe running down the sides of the leg. With a clean black belt with a silver buckle and shiny black dress shoes.
“May I help you sir?” a man approached, stopping an arm's length away, meeting Jay's gaze, “Looking to sign up?”
“Y-yes, uh-”
“Staff Sergeant Cooper. But you can call me James.” He said, directing Jay indoors to the Raider office. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I'm, uh, looking to join, and I was told the Raiders is the way to go,” Jay said.
“Who referred you? I can offer some sort of bonus if they're actively serving, more so if they're in the Raiders.”
Jay paused a moment before answering, “It was Commander O'Clair, from the TRSC Maiden of Blue.”
Cooper's eyes widened, “How did you come across him?”
“He saved me, on the outer edge of the system. My ship blew up and he saved me.”
“That sure is something,” he said, typing away on his computer. “How soon are you looking to join?”
“Now, if possible,” Jay replied.
“Of course,” Cooper said, “Is there any particular specialty you're looking for? We have the Raider Sniper Program, Demolitions, Heavy Weapons Specialist… Anything that catches your eye?”
“I'll…just do the standard infantry,” Jay said. He looked at Jay but settled on Jay's decision.
Cooper typed away, asking for additional information regarding his credentials. Jay gave him all that he needed, and the paperwork was completed, only short of signing it.
“Before you sign this, you think you'd be up for a test?
“Like what?” Jay asked nervously.
“Just a physical strength test. Don't want you failing out in boot camp because you can't run. What do you say?”
Jay nodded, nervous about the rapid development. He was hydrated and loose, but nervous still, since he didn't like being scored on a workout.
The test was a three-part series of a max set of crunches, pull-ups, and a three-mile run. Without further delay, Jay was given an extra set of workout clothes and when he was dressed, followed Cooper into the back of the building where several teenagers were lined up in a formation facing two instructors.
“Sergeant Cory and Corporal Canon. A moment?” The two halted what orders and information they were giving the teens and met Cooper and Jay.
“Yes, Staff Sergeant?” replied Canon.
Take this young man on the initial strength test and see how he does.” The two looked over at Jay.
He was older than all the teens here, from what he observed, and anxiousness was getting the better of him.
“Think you’ll be able to run? It's okay if you can't,” joked the sergeant.
Jay nodded, and he was told to fall in line at the back. He, like the others, was donned in a set of black shorts that stopped middle of the thigh and a gray shirt that was tucked in.
“Alright, first up, crunches!”
The test began, and the group first did a series of crunches with alternating partners after they finished their own set within a two-minute window. Jay passed with an average mark of one hundred, and the next began with pull-ups. He was above average in build and scored a total of seventeen. Then the final test began. The run was decent for the first half, and Jay passed with an average time of twenty-four minutes flat.
When all was said and done, and his assessment finalized, Cooper pushed the documents ahead. By now it was late into the afternoon and the office was swarming with the soon-to-be recruits. When the paperwork was being pushed through, Jay was approached by two of the males of the group. Out of the twenty, there were at most three females.
“Hey!” a short blonde-hair teen greeted, “Name's Miran, and this is Cameron, what about you?”
“Jay,” he stood to meet their greetings.
“What job did you pick?” Cameron asked, almost meeting his height but averted his eyes ever so slightly from Jay.
“I-I think infantry. I didn't think there were other jobs in the Raiders that fit me,” he said, resigning himself to his decision.
“So did we!” Miran exclaimed, “We ship out a day after tomorrow, once we go to the processing station.”
“When do you go there?” Jay asked.
“Tomorrow!” The kid said jubilantly, “I'm getting goosebumps just thinking of it!”
The two left when Cooper returned, his information displayed on a government issued data pad. They hashed out the details shortly when he returned from the test. Displayed, it detailed that he was going to serve for a minimum of five years and three years inactive under the specialty of Raider Infantryman.
“Now all I need from you is to sign here, and I should be able to fit you in for tomorrow's processing.” He laid out a folder. “I made some calls, and it looks like they can take you, as long as you got this.”
It was sealed with a wax insignia for the Raiders, a flaming skull with a crossing sword and rifle in the background.
“Normally, you'd have to go to processing first to confirm a date, but every so often they can expedite it,” he said with a wink.
Jay nodded and signed the form digitally, sealing his newfound commitment.
“You got a ride?” to which Jay replied no.
“Come here at zero six, tomorrow, and we can get you processed. Sound good?” to which Jay nodded.
“Yes sir.”
“That's the spirit!” Cooper replied and patted him on his back. “You know, I had a younger brother who joined and got out about a year ago. Last I heard from him, he was in Draxis and joined the Militia band there. Guess you never really do get out of it.”
He said with a solemn expression. “Well, I'm sure he's fine. Don't be late tomorrow!”
Jay agreed and left the office. The once bustling room of aspiring raiders was cleared but met them outside, where they mingled with one another as they left the compound at intervals at a time. Jay bid them farewell and found refuge in a nearby inn. Where he took the time to reflect on his upcoming new life journey.
So far, it was nothing but a mess. He was doing data-running jobs in the outer colonies that ended in disaster from an entity that wanted them dead and also summarily cost the lives of innocent folk and his best friend. He rested on a chair that faced the window. Now with the sun below the horizon, he opened it to reveal a cool summer breeze that was comforting to him.
By remembering Kam, it prompted him to grab a device that was given to him by the navy, but he didn't have time to look at it or simply forgot. It was a thumb drive with what O'Clair said was a message to him. They kept the data drive but took the time to transfer a personal message from the drive. He read it. It detailed his sudden aggression during the realization of Jay's mistake that he shouldn't have made.
>To Jay and any who finds this,
I’m Kam Faron. Technical Officer aboard the Star Runner 4311. This device holds information vital to prompt the Terran Republic Stellar Command to act against an unknown alien entity. I have attached all relative documents below. It is Urgent they receive this information to mount a defense, but if you are a stranger, chances are we didn't make it and that the enemy made its way across Terran Space. It is imperative that this device is made into the hands of a TRSC official.
On a separate note, Jay;
On the account we survive, I planned to tell you instead of a message like this, but I was hoping it was a simple job. Remember Dema? I knew we were doing a job and were going to stay for a bit. I had originally planned to use that time to meet with my wife. We were expecting children, twins, and we were going to invite you over to reveal the news, but fate has a cruel way of tormenting us. Jay, Or whoever, If you can, please, find Alexandria Faron and my children.
(See Image) [See Documents (25)]<
Jay sat quietly as he read. He wanted to cry, yell, scream, and tear at everything in his vicinity. But he knew he couldn't do that. He knew it wouldn't help and instead turned his head to the outside. The lights now illuminated beneath the trees, giving it a somber but spirited atmosphere.
As he stared blankly outside, just taking in the breeze and ambiance mindlessly for about an hour, when he heard a call from below that brought him back from his daze.
“Jay! You busy?!”
It was Cameron, and this time Miran wasn't with him.
“Sure, you hungry?” to which Cameron nodded. “Let's eat, it’s on me.” Cameron nodded and proceeded to wait for Jay, who only tossed on a new shirt and pants and quickly tied his shoes before he met Cameron waiting near the entrance to the inn.
Cameron stood to just below Jay's nose, and his brown hair was a mess. He was dressed in casual clothes that complimented each other of charcoal-colored pants and a dark denim button-up shirt rolled just past his forearms.
“Hey! I thought you'd be with Miran,” Jay inquired, striking small conversation.
“He's celebrating with his family before we process, and I'm not one for parties.” He said, his voice reaching a soft tone at its height. Jay judged that he must mostly be soft-spoken.
Jay took Cameron to a restaurant just beside his inn and both ordered a meal from the noodle and soup menu.
“Say, how old are you? You do seem a little older than the rest of the pool.” Cameron asked, and he leaned, with his chin resting on the top of his wrist.
“I'm twenty-two, and space does that to you,” Jay replied with a grin as their food finally arrived.
“Wait, you were a pilot? What are you doing here at the recruiters?” he inquired.
“My ship blew up, and the navy found me floating,” He replied, leaving out details of the alien ship and Kam, “Been in the hospital until today. What about you?”
“Me? I just turned twenty,” Cameron replied, slurping a portion of his noodles.
The two continued conversing well into the late afternoon, exchanging their interests and how they grew up. Jay mentioned he started flying at sixteen to run data for a local broker and found he had a knack for it. It wasn't later that he met Kam, who would be his technician for the last few years.
“What happened to Kam?” Cameron asked quietly.
“We went our separate ways just before I lost my ship,” Jay said, regret singeing at his heart, “But that is in the past now.”
Cameron nodded at the shallow attempt of optimism, and the two shortly ended their meal, leaving for their homes.
“See you tomorrow, Jay!”
“You too, Cam, err, Cameron!” He said with a slip of the tongue, his mistake going unnoticed.
Jay returned to his room and read over the message once more, deepening the regret that only grew, and the fate of Kam's wife plagued his mind.
Tomorrow would start the journey he would need to set his life anew.
The day following his evening with Cameron was relatively smooth. The local processing station was the primary facility to process all who wished to join the armed forces. It was a place made to solidify paperwork and acted as the final step before your training would begin. He did as Staff Sergeant Cooper said and provided the folder he was given.
As fate would have it, they expedited his ship date to tomorrow instead of one that would have been much later. He did various physical tests to determine the full range of motion or any possible liabilities that would prove detrimental to their job.
Behind closed doors were more invasive interviews with medical professionals, but after trudging the slow process, Jay finally came out from the facility in a holding area. There, he met with Cameron and Miran.
“Hey, Jay!” Miran greeted along with a meek Cameron.
“How are you?” asked Cameron.
“Never better. Although it feels like I'm moving a bit too fast.”
“That's natural. My date was set just before I graduated from high school,” Miran inserted, “Today was my finalization!
“Same here, except mine was three weeks ago,” Cameron added
“So what's this place? It looks like a holding area,” Inquired Jay.
“It is,” Miran started, “From here we'll go to the nearest Star port where they already have rooms reserved for us. Then tomorrow, we'll all take commercial transport to the Raider Recruit Depot,” he explained.
The three started a casual conversation while the room began to fill. The capacity was fit for two-thousand personnel, but their room was filled to only half that amount.
The time came when the doors to the facility closed behind them and the doors to their front opened, revealing a tram rail. Each compartment was able to hold seventy-five people and there was a total of ten cars attached. The on-site personnel began shuffling the recruits into the cars, forcing them to cram into the limited space available. Many were stuck standing and not long after the doors closed, and the tram began moving, the smell of sweat began to permeate the car. Ventilation wasn't it wasn't equipped to condition the overwhelming number of people.
Jay found himself with Cameron as both were standing, while Miran was able to land a seat and was already well on his way to falling asleep.
The ride itself was anxiety-inducing for many, and their car was rising in volume from many of the recruits as they began to talk among one another, each sharing their stories and where they came from.
Jay and Cameron did the same. They spoke at length of their childhood, with Cameron excited to listen to Jay, who seemed to have experienced a storied past, including the most recent of news.
“How far do you think it is from here to the depot?” asked Cameron.
Jay did some calculations using personal reference before answering, “From Alta… I'd say about a month or two, in one go. Less with a newer ship, but I doubt they could afford that for recruits.”
“In Slip-Space?!” Cameron blurted.
Jay nodded, “Yea, the commercial ships these days have a faster drive core, and my ship would have taken about one and a half months.”
Cameron was surprised, “What did you do during those times in between systems?”
“Physical training. My ship could only travel to the next nearest system before I could jump again. So, I've spent a lot of time in space than I wanted to.”
“Well, I can see your progress,” Cameron said, pointing to his arms, but they weren’t large, but they were toned, “No wonder you did well on your initial scores.”
Jay laughed, “I have a habit of gorging on food when I am stressed, and working out helped alleviate that, for what it's worth.” He ended their conversation and left for his room. When his head hit the pillow, Jay was quick to fall to slumber.
The following three weeks were over before Jay knew it. Because when they entered the ship, instead of riding out the three weeks awake, they were placed in cryogenic pods and the next they knew it, the recruits were less than a day out from their destination, Mars.
In the central passenger compartment was a hologram of the current system. It was Sol, and it was the first time he had traveled here. From the information he read when he was younger, it was the most populated system, with an extremely high presence of navy ships and Orbital stations.
Almost every planet and moon was colonized, and many found their homes there. There were even two large communities of those who lived in the system's asteroid belts as major mining colonies.
Even Mars was terraformed at the end of the 21st century, and since then, has seen exponential growth in terraforming technology with Mars as the basis. Therefore, in the early 23rd century, planets that had similar conditions to Mars could be terraformed after a generation or two. However, very few planets could be terraformed since the cost of the technology had yet to be opened to the private sector.
The planet had large two sizeable polar ice caps, with the northern pole with the largest area of the two and was placed in the center of its Northern Hemisphere ocean. The Southern Hemisphere was a connected supercontinent with two large bodies of water as large as lakes.
They were now just a few hours away from touching down, and Jay grew nervous. He left to explore the mess deck and found that they provided premade burritos. He bought four and returned to Cameron, who was still recovering from cryo sleep. He offered one to his friend while eating the three left over.
Jay noticed Cameron looking around for whom he assumed to be Miran and found him near the front, engaging with a group of males in a card game. Not wanting to move, Cameron stayed where he was and slowly ate his burrito. By now, Jay was on his third and final one when a notice came over the intercom.
“Return to your seats and fasten your harness for the descent.” Those that were up and about did as they were told, and all the seats in the bay quickly filled.
The ship rocked at first but smoothed out throughout the descent. Jay looked out the window to his right, and he figured they were just below the stratosphere. The ground below was green and heavily forested. Several locations could be considered worker settlements or military installations, with some areas close enough to eye the large ships parked above.
Others began to peer into the windows to view the ships outside. The most notable were the Chimera Class Destroyers and Artemis Class Heavy Frigates. Their silhouettes screamed stellar fleet, and they were the most numerous. Their bows were similar in construction with a top and bottom portion with a space in the middle, looking like a rectangular jaw from a side profile. However, the Destroyers were complete in their frame and these boasted space in the center of the ship and throughout the engines.
The shape of Small, Medium, and Heavy Frigates shared the same frontal design but toward the aft, it had two side outcrops that ran the center part of the ship. The engines also boasted angled reinforced hulls that covered the top and bottom portions of the sides of the ship and engines. There was also an extended bay at the bottom of the frigates to allow quick offload and download of vehicles and other cargo.
Their names were too far to make out, but strips of color appeared on the aft section of the reinforced hulls. The destroyers had a crimson-colored stripe that ran down the sides of the bow and aft sections of the ships and the frigates were colored yellow, green, and blue, respectively of their sizes. It was no wonder the passengers were in a roar. This was the first time they had seen TRSC Ships in person, no matter how far they seemed, they looked massive.
The ship had finally descended, and the once rambunctious crowd was now silent as the void they had just traveled. The doors of the ship were open, and Jay searched for the source of the sudden silence. That was until they made themselves known.
“GET OFF MY SHIP!” a man in a similar uniform worn by Staff Sergeant Cooper three weeks ago yelled, except on his head, he wore a wide circular brim hat. “MOVEMOVEMOVEMOVE!” they screamed, followed by several more sporting the same uniform.
They rushed to the passenger compartment and began screaming at those who didn't move quickly enough. Jay nudged at Cameron, and the two followed the mass of people trying to exit all at once, while they were constantly yelled at.
They made their way off, and their large group was now rendered to ten, and all were formed in four columns. When all was set, Jay looked beneath him and noticed a set of black footprints spread at a forty-five-degree angle.”
“Listen here!” A lead uniformed man screamed, his voice multiplied by a series of speakers.
“The footprints you stand on are the symbol of the training you will undergo and what you will become! Thousands have stood where you are, and only hundreds have been able to call themselves raiders for every cycle!”
He began to list off a series of rules and regulations to be followed, such as only responding with 'Yes sir or No sir' and what is expected.
When the rules were explained, one at a time, the groups were shuffled toward the nearest building. When they were clear, the next group followed, and so on, until his group was ordered to move. He felt a tug behind him and noticed Cameron was with him while looking for Miran. Whom he noticed was near the front, while Jay and Cameron were situated near the back.
The building they entered was another holding bay; this time, buses awaited on the side. All recruits were stationary in their seats, and their voices were silenced. As the buses came, the groups slowly diminished until each was on a bus toward a facility out in the distance.
They weren't allowed to raise their heads and were told to keep quiet on the ride. As each moment passed, all Jay could think was, why did he join?
When they arrived at the depot, their bus was corralled into a large warehouse and ran through a series of other recruits. They handed them two large green bags and were issued their gear that was ungraciously tossed into the bag.
This continued until all recruits were confirmed to have their gear, and they proceeded to their first initial sleeping quarters, where they were told that the initial week was administration and paperwork processing.
Throughout the week and with many more on the horizon, they were yelled at and forced to do arbitrary and repetitive actions. By now, they were donning the standard gray and black camouflage pattern battle dress uniform and a pair of running shoes. Their hair was unevenly shaven, with some having patches of unshaven fuzz if a hand ran across their scalp.
Everywhere they went, they marched, as sloppy as it was. They were now under the instruction of a single instructor who didn't yell often, and for most of the week, all he did was raid his voice to get the newly formed platoon's attention. However, that would change on Friday.
As their initial week finished, they were ushered to a large five-story building and placed into a large bay with three rows of bunk beds that created two medium-sized pathways. The recruits were immediately rushed to find a bed and place their green bags on it. They stood near the front of the bay, which was called the quarter-deck, and it was the only place that could fit their platoon of approximately 102 recruits. They were issued to keep their heads down and to stand by for further orders.
The footsteps could be heard from a door near the front of the bay. Their attention was demanded, and their heads propped up to reveal a singular man in the foreground, with four more behind him. All wore the same service uniform, with the cover's brim shielding their eyes. Then the frontman spoke.”
“Listen up, you unwanted and forsaken maggots! I am Gunnery Sergeant Slaughter, and I, along with my fellow drill instructors, will be your worst nightmare! And I will not be the last! My goal here is to ensure you are trained to the best of our abilities! To become the most feared warriors with the death wish that humanity has to offer! To be willing to jump into danger for the sake of not just your brethren! But to which the Republic serves! Your families, friends! Your fucking girlfriend is now screwing your best friend! And if not him, then your neighbor!” Slaughter paced the area near the front of the group before continuing.”
“Let me introduce you to your instructors!” From left to right, they stepped in practice and in fluid motion at the mention of their rank and name. When he was done, they returned to their spot and remained at parade rest, their feet apart and their hands across the lower part of their back.
“You are mine, and you are theirs! You will respect them for the duty and title that they hold! To train the next generation of Raiders! But right now, you are nothing but useless recruits! Nothing but dirt on the bottom of my boot!” He paused and looked about the room,
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“Drill Instructors!” He paused, taking his spot behind the four instructors, you have ‘em!”
As soon as the final word left his mouth, chaos erupted. The four drill instructors began issuing orders in rapid succession, that many failed to heed their words, and were promptly taken, to be made an example of.
The orders were simple but consisted of incoherent screams that generated a man-made fog of war for the recruits. However, now their beds were made, and any extra gear not needed was placed in the foot locker beneath the racks. Jay was breathing quickly and looked at Cameron, who was now his rack mate. He had a visible looked of fear and anxiety on his face.
The orders continued until nightfall. They had gotten dinner, and they showered, all under the supervision of their instructors. Each meal was no more than fifteen minutes, and their showers were no more than them walking through the shower heads in ice-cold water.
When all was said and done, they were allowed to sleep, and a few throughout the night would stand an hour of watch, subject to the random and sudden orders of the drill instructors. However, Jay would be able to sleep without having to stand watch and was able to enjoy some modicum of rest.
However, each morning they were awoken but the sudden illumination of fluorescent lighting and the yells of their instructors, “LIIIIGHTSLIGHTSLIGHTSLIGHTS!!” and they would be subject to a series of repetitive motions and a constant yell of affirmation whenever one was spoken to. This would continue in the mornings and evenings until lights out. Between physical training and classes, it remained the same routine until their time at the range.
The range was a series of activities that were a mix of shooting, land navigation, the gas chamber, and a culminating event at the end shrouded in mystery.
For shooting, all recruits were taught from the ground up, even if they had experienced it prior. They were able to pick up quickly on the theory and practice in little time, compared to a city boy whose only time with a gun was online in a game.
“The weapon you hold is the standard weapon of the armed forces. It is the Kaylar Tactical Series Eight Auto Rifle! Your gas-operated, shoulder-fired, magazine-fed, air-cooled, weapon of hate and discontent!” Slaughter explained, “This will be your friend, lover, and child! It may very well be the one you use when you exit your steel coffin in the middle of an enemy squad that was unfortunate enough to get in your way, and turn them into food for the worms! OORAH?”
“OO-RAH!” The platoon screamed in unison.
Jay showed some aptitude and scored relatively mid-point, making a sharpshooter. Cameron, on the other hand, made marksman. A tier just below sharpshooter, with expert being the highest. Miran scored expert and flaunted it among his newfound group.
“Is expert really that great?” Cameron said, his voice gravelly from the constant yelling over the past several weeks.
Jay shrugged, “It tells them that you know how to control your weapon and that you can hit your mark,” he said as he pulled on the rifle's charging handle and loaded a round into the chamber. They were now testing in the final target acquisition and speed reload test. For this next test, they had ten seconds to fire, reload and fire again.
They started in an alert stance and when the buzzer alarmed, Jay brought his rifle up, lined the shot, and fired two rounds when the bolt locked. With a practiced motion, pressed the magazine release with his trigger finger and, with his free left hand, simultaneously grabbed the second magazine, loaded it, sent the bolt forward, and fired two more shots.
He put his weapon on the safe, lowered his weapon, maintained the muzzle down range, and looked left and right. Cameron had just fired his second volley when the buzzer sounded.
“Unload, Show, Clear!” The instructors sounded, and the recruits compiled in a similar cadence.
The totals were tallied, and Jay scored 334 points out of 350. He made mid an expert. Cameron, on the other hand, made 304 a high sharpshooter. Cameron was visibly dejected after their scores were totaled, and he felt bad for those who made marksmen.
When they returned to the barracks, those that made 279 and below were promptly hazed in the name of ‘Incentivized Training’. Some Jay was subject to when he failed to be quick enough with holding a back in the air or his uniform wasn't on all the way. There could be any number of reasons they could pull you aside and proceed to torment you while the rest of the platoon watched, not wanting to share their fate. It did well to stay in line and do as you were told.
“I meant to ask,” Cameron started when the platoon was given an hour to themselves before Over lights out, “What happened to your face?” A red mark in the shape of a stocky worm was present under his eye which was colored a mix of blue, purple, and red.
“I didn't secure my lock to my Foot Locker for the first time yesterday. So, Gunny Slaughter made sure I didn't do it again. And you can bet I'm not doing that again.” He said with a wry laugh.
Twelve weeks had passed since then, and Jay and Cameron were subject to another twelve weeks of the depot. However, the punishment lessened greatly when his platoon was swapped to a new series of instructors. Instead of calling them sir and ma'am, they were now called by their rank. However, Gunny Slaughter remained constant and enforced their drills early on, but now was more focused on training them as a team. While Slaughter was the acting company commanding officer, he was Jay's Platoon's Senior instructor.
Over the next eleven weeks, the Hotel company was trained in various other weapon platforms and advanced tactics. They were thoroughly ingrained with the knowledge of clearing buildings and fighting in all terrain.
Even more so, they trained as a team, and the squad leader led instruction in tactics and simulated combat. This continued until the night on the eve of their culminating event.
“You think you're ready, Cameron?” Jay asked as he drew on a mini-notepad.
“I think so; it's much better knowing I have you to count on.” He replied as he was clearing his uniform of stray fabric.
“If anything, I'll carry you to the finish line,” Jay said with a smirk, to which Cameron replied quietly.
“I hope that won't be the case.”
The night continued, and Hotel Company was met with an early morning—ten platoons formed outside their barracks. What was now 1000 recruits was down to just above half. Those who failed to meet the expected standards were sent away to a following company that would soon take their place in the field. That was their last chance to make it as a raider, but even then, once they were dropped for a third time, they were sent home. Still, they awoke and gathered their gear and rifles.
Their final test as recruits was now upon them.
The final test took place during the final week. It was as much a test as it was a three-day-long obstacle course.
They were informed near the beginning that the final event was a large-scale exercise that utilized simulation rounds, also known as Simunition, as they made their way through the course. Before they would begin, a brief was held by Gunnery Sergeant Slaughter.
“You have all done well in coming this far. I am almost proud of what kind of shit stains you’re going to become!” The recruits laughed at his attempt of a joke, and he continued,
“Before these gates are a series of trucks, each for a platoon, that will take you to predetermined locations around the outskirts of the training arena. This is the final test. Those who make it can call themselves Raiders. Those who fail…will get dropped.” He said, pausing for dramatic effect. “These are the rules: One; you'll have exactly 72 hours to reach the final point, your graduation. Two, you will be equipped with Simunition rounds designed to paralyze the target – the suits you wear will register it. All who make it by the deadline will graduate – conscious or not. The fourth and final rule is you will not kill, only incapacitate.”
The air stilled, and all ten platoons were silent. They had experienced 12 weeks of abuse and hazing while also being nurtured in the ways and knowledge of a warrior. They were not going to give up now.
“A final word. You will also share the arena with two other companies from another depot competing to graduate. We have drilled into every bit of leadership and combat instinct you need to get you through this! You will be watched and assessed! Make it to the top and prove to them, you are superior!”
He looked left and right, his face played on the screens to the outermost lying platoons to ensure all under his command got the message.
“Then, Drill Instructors! Direct these recruits to their transport!”
Upon taking their spot on the truck, each was ceremoniously given a yellow band to place over their arm. They were accompanied by their drill instructors, but they only acted as supervisors from overhead in an Odin. A troop transport modified with the capability of surveillance and a capacity to pull any out that have been stunned for too long.
Cameron and Jay sat across one another in the truck, and for the duration of the ride, the passengers conversed, and the squad leaders drew up strategies for the 72-hour trail. Miran was one such squad leader.
Each was given a vague map of the training area, with several marked and unmarked roads. They were also given only three packs of MRE's each and two water canteens. They were donning a raider cuirass and an Orbital Guard trooper helmet painted in the steel gray of their overall uniform.
They were told that if they could walk for three days straight, the trip would take only 25 hours. They had to manage sleep, obstacles, and an unknown enemy combatant. Each truck of their company was driven off to separate locations, and the same was meant for the other two companies.
“I heard the other companies graduating are Golf and India. They'll be wearing blue and green. So if you see them, either let 'em pass or take 'em out,” One squad leader suggested. His name taped on his helmet and chest indicated he was named Gale.
“The less competition we have to the top, the better! I say we shoot!” rebuked Miran.
The two squad leaders duke out their ideas while the rest just watched, conversing about likely scenarios and how to deal with them when the trucks come to a stop. Their platoon was separated into four squads and thus took two trucks to reach their destination. They stood before a large gate with a large and thick concrete wall that extended far into the trees.
The squads organized themselves, so each squad would enter the gate in order. Miran was responsible for squad one, while Jay and Cameron were in squad two.
“You ready for this, Cam?” Jay said with a nudge of his elbow.
“Cam? You've never called me that before.” He said, cocking his head to the side in a confused look.
“I think it would be fitting. You've only called me by first name, but I've never heard yours.”
His face was flush red from embarrassment, probably, “Promise you won't laugh?”
“Promise,” replied Jay with a stoic expression.
“Err, alright…” A buzz rang, and the large doors opened, revealing a wide dirt path. The trail was open on the sides, with trees lining the edge of the open area, and a series of buildings could be seen on the horizon.
The timer buzzed once more, revealing a countdown, and the first squad departed, soon to be followed by the rest, and Cameron finally replied.
“It's… Camille.”
Camille was right, Jay wanted to laugh but couldn't. Instead, he gave a feigned replied, trying to mask a small laugh.
“It's fine. It's a nice name.”
Jay delivered a small fist bump to the shoulder of Cam, who blushed from embarrassment.
They turned towards the gate, a voice spoke from the speakers surrounding the entrance. It sounded like a prerecording with how careful and precise the wording came off.
“When you enter the Proving Grounds, you will be tested. Physically and mentally. Hotel Company will be competing against two others, Golf and India. They've been given the same mission as you. To make it to the top and prevent your enemy from completing,” Slaughter paused, “You will also be tested against a third element. It's a new training tech to add a third dimension to combat…”
Jay recalled the words said to him and the rest of his company by their Senior Drill Instructor, Gunny Slaughter. Their orders were more detailed when the platoons broke off from the main body and into their trucks to a designated start point.
Since they completed with the other two companies, all authority was delegated to the squad leaders and then to the fire team leaders if the mission deemed it so. The third element that they were warned about was vague, but they were told that there were additional supplies available if each platoon was able to clear compounds – the third mysterious element.
His platoon patrolled the path in a tactical column, where each individual was 10–15 paces from each other in a staggered form, ensuring there were no collateral kills in a real combat scenario. It was also the most common formation when traveling in silence while still on the alert. Their weapons were unloaded, and they had empty magazines in their pouches, as it is later that they would receive their simunition rounds.
As they walked, Jay took in the environment.
The Proving Grounds was their last major event in recruit training to graduate, participants needed to make it to the top of the mountain at the center of the training area. The arena was split up into three sections:
First was the Lower Shelf, which encompassed the outer area of the grounds and consisted of a series of obstacle courses that they, as a platoon, needed to complete making it to the next area. The 'O-Courses', as they were colloquially called, were made to follow a singular path and each was connected. It was also in this section that they were not allowed to carry rounds on their person.
The Second was the Upper Shelf. An area that had combat engagements as their primary focus and was more open. It was the largest area where one could deviate from their original path and still be able to find a way up the mountain. It was also the only part of the exercise where they could make extensive use of their rounds.
The Final section was the steep hike up the mountain. Two-thirds of the mountain trail is an extension of the upper shelf and simunition rounds were authorized, but when they reached the final third, it became an armistice zone. If anyone were to shoot into or from the armistice zone, they would be automatically disqualified.
After recounting the makeup of the Proving Grounds, the platoon came to a halt and the squad leaders gathered them around a sign before the obstacle.
It was a wide but long series of crawls and multiple walls and debris to navigate while staying low. The trails were freshly watered and muddy. This fact alone made many uncomfortable because that meant they were going to get dirty, and it would most likely remain that way over the next two days.
The sign was simple. It provided details for not just this immediate course but for three others beyond it. However, for the first course, it stated to stay on the course and to stay low. The second was a test of alternating advances called buddy rushing. The third was to scale walls with increasing difficulty, mixed with agility and rope climbing. The fourth and final was an active patrol scenario and the goal was to bring everyone to an end.
However, as the squads were about to break into fire teams for the course, some got the bright idea to try to go around the course. As they did, shots of gunfire littered the air for a moment, then ceased. As the platoon looked for the deviants, they found them motionless when a voice spoke over a hidden speaker.
“A bit of forewarning, 'stay on the course' was literal. Stray from the current path and you will be neutralized by simunition rounds. Retrieve the two deviants, but you must stay low.”
The faces of the platoon said that they didn't want to, but Jay and Cameron took the initiative and crawled toward the two who lay on their backs and pulled them until they made their way onto the trail.
The voice began, “The sim round's effects will last about 6 hours before they can even begin to wake up. Their fates are up to you,” and the voice cut out.
Thoughts were already thrown out, stating that if they were willing to circumvent the course, then it was their fault, and they should be punished for it. Others disagreed and said that they should bring them.
From his analysis, The simunition rounds were designed in this course to severely hinder your progress. Get shot enough and you won't pass. If you can't stick to rules, then if you fail, it's likely they would send you to the Orbital Guard. Not a place many would want to go, especially if they found out the person in question was a drop from Raider boot-camp.
Two from their squads volunteered to stay behind and wait for them to wake up, and the rest of the platoon began their course. Just before the course were two Light Armored Personnel Carriers that pointed their noses toward the course, creating a funnel.
There were only four lanes, so the squads were set up into fire teams and they proceeded forward. As the first group entered the muddied water, cries of frustration sounded. Their socks were drenched and at least one-half of their body was wet, and the cool breeze didn't help alleviate their discomfort.
The sounds of gunfire also littered the air, and those that remained behind hit the deck and took cover by the APC. The tops of the lanes were covered with barbed wire and the way forward was covered by a berm. They couldn't see past it, and the only way forward was to crawl through a semi-flooded concrete tunnel. It was standard that whenever they entered a standing posture, they were to have their weapon in an alert posture.
Next was Jay and Cam with their two fire team members, Fields and Soren. As they crawled, Cam made it a point to detail where the water went, while Jay and the others took the time to just roll over into mud water. This greatly eased Jay when he was fully enveloped in wet clothes rather than partially.
When they entered the tunnel and made their way through about 50 feet of waist-high water, they were met with the entirety of the course. It stretched for another mile of low crawls and mud, topped with more barbed wire. From their point of the area, there was a drop-off just before them that led down to the next part of the low crawls.
Jay looked at his fire team in surprise.
“Are we supposed to slide down this?” commented Fields, “Looks like a fifty-foot drop!”
“I guess we slide down and continue,” Jay said with a sigh, and his team complied and slid down from the area with the tunnel. As they reached the bottom, they got into the prone again and started crawling with shots firing overhead of the barbed wire, the sounds of whizzing from the bullet making its way to his eardrums.
His team was only five groups away from the lead, and when they made their way to the halfway point of the low crawl section, explosions from the side of the course erupted in smoke and dust. Their lanes in the mud depressed just enough to cover their prone body. Their bodies still rocked from the explosions.
“Oh, c'mon!” sounded Soren to his right with clear dismay. Jay disregarded the complaint and kept his head down as he continued to crawl, with chunks of dirt landing on him with notable force. He was glad for the armor he wore to protect him.
When they completed the course, a simple dirt path and a concrete wall lined the side of the path met his view, and he took this chance to take a breather, not knowing how much stamina he had wasted.
The next course was a long field that started with a half wall that the fire team would use as cover and wait until the team leader gave the command to advance. The field was mostly grass, with previously made paths from years of use and abuse. It was designed with an alternative style of advancement of a fireteam. By alternating every other person two at a time, the fire team could advance while the two who remained would provide covering fire. This was known a buddy-rushing; a tactic to continuously lay down fire for your team as they continually advanced toward the enemy. There was not automated gun fire in this section of the course, as indicated by a sign, but a long wall of barbed wire lined the sides of the course, which seemed to extend for another mile and a half.
“Wait, we have to bud-rush for a mile and a half?” said Cam, taking a swig of his canteen.
“Gotta build up the stamina somehow. You can’t destroy the enemy by maneuver and fire if you don’t, well, maneuver and fire,” said Fields, taking a drink from his canteen as well, “Haven't you learned anything from the last 20-odd weeks in recruit training?” Cam acknowledged his comment silently.
“Once the next team goes, we're up,” Jay said, followed by the nods of his team.
As the next team proceeded, Jay and his fire team took their places ad the half-wall in a crouched position. He waited until the next team was further along by 25 meters when the first half of his team hopped the wall to a new position some 10–15 meters away. They continued this for the duration of the course and by the time they made it to the end, Cam, Fields, and Soren were gasping for air, Jay included.
“W-What the hell, man!” Soren started, “I didn't think a mile and a half of rushes would do this to you!”
“I know what you mean, I've been so used to the 25-50 meter rushes. Not this,” added Fields.
There was a way to the next course, and they jogged at a slow pace and met the other teams before them. All were a mess covered in damp clothes, hunched over catching their breath. When he finally settled, Jay started to notice the discomfort of the damp clothes. The suit they wore underneath it all prevented most water at first, but it cut off at the ankles, wrist, and upper neck, which added even more to the discomfort.
The next course was an agility course with walls to climb and single logs to cross over. If they failed, they would have to restart from the beginning. This was enforced by an automated targeting system that tracked their movements to their last known checkpoint, which was the beginning. Granted, the entirety of the course was separated into parts, each with a different set-up.
Jay's fire team cleared the series of obstacles, using each other as step stools over walls, and quickly made their way through the short course. Next, they found themselves in the final course. They met with the other teams and looked over the sign.
'Patrol – Progress as a squad to the extraction zone. Leave no one behind.'
The others waited until the rest of the platoon before progressing. It took some time and it was nearing dusk. The sun was quickly falling, and the light was barely filtering through the trees of the hills that surrounded them.
There were four paths, subsequently marked 1-4 and each squad took a path that corresponded to their number. The paths were separated by trees and hollow buildings. The paths were wide enough to accommodate two-lane traffic and were littered with seemingly purposeful debris.
The debris counted as burned and hole-riddled civilian vehicles, tires, barrels, etc. Jay's squad, led by Gale, took a tactical column and progressed through the trail. The light was quickly fading, and they equipped their lights, which gave off a red beam.
They traveled the path for another 30 minutes, looking at more of the same scenery when an explosion sounded behind him. Three of his squad mates were unconscious, and the squad took a defensive perimeter while the ones who were the closest moved to triage their comrades.
This practice was normal and expected. Jay was one of the ones near the recruits that got hit and realized it hit Cam.
He rushed to his side while his squad rushed to their perimeter and ran through his head he had practiced many times before. The first was to stop the bleeding, check for breathing, treat the wound, and treat for shock
“Hey Cam! Can you hear me!?!, C'mon bud! Wake up!” He smacked Cam's face slightly and noticed his eyes flutter.
“I-I camt moov mai leggs…” He said in a dazed fashion as Jay looked over his body and noticed paint across his right leg and waist. It was the same substance that would normally neutralize them if it hit the chest, but it was designed to target the lower extremities.
“This might be a little tight, bud.”
He pulled a tourniquet from one of Cam's pouches and applied it to the right leg. It wouldn't do much with the suit still registering the tranquilizer feeling. He applied it just tight enough and proceeded to bring Cam over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. The sudden dead weight was doing a number on his thighs. Fields holstered his own rifle to help support Jay with Cam, alternating who would carry him until it was safe for him to walk on his own.
Then chaos erupted.
Simulated explosions with displays of smoke illuminated by the flash of light paired with shots of gunfire sounded the area, the sound carrying over from the other paths.
“Move!” Gale commanded over the noise of combat, with maniacal laughter among the squad. This was the first any of them had experienced something as visceral as combat, simulated or not.
They still maintained a perimeter around the men carrying their partners with their weapons trained outward. This continued for a while and Jay's thigh's felt like they were on fire, but he pressed on, his slung rifle swinging tight to his body and occasionally hitting him in the knee.
For the remainder of the trail, they waded through thigh-deep water and evaded the numerous amounts of debris until the noise faded. Finally, the sounds ceased when the last of their group passed through the exit – which was a gate flanked by two flares that looked like they were activated remotely.
Jay found a small grassy hill in their clearing and lay Cam upon it and placed his rifle beside him. He placed a finger under his nose and confirmed he was, in fact, still breathing, although it was labored.
The group found that the next stage was up a trail but was locked behind a gate with a timer counting down. The squad leaders returned from the electric board and returned to their respective squads.
“Listen to me now, 2nd squad!” Gale started, “We've got about 7 hours until the gates open, so they made this time to rest. Eat some chow and get some sleep, the first seven will stand to watch, and we'll rotate who has to stand it in the next area.” He left, and the squad set their assault packs on the ground and pulled out a sleeping bag, using their packs as pillows.
The platoon was able to rest and readied for the following day when the last watch woke them up. It was still early in the morning, and the sun had yet to rise, but they put on their damp Battle Dress Uniforms and lined up with their squad at the gate, which was now open. At the base of the trail that led to the upper shelf was flanked by two shacks.
As each person approached, they scanned their military ID and received 180 rounds of simunition in thin biodegradable boxes. After receiving their ammo, the platoon took this time to organize their gear, eat, and rest.
“What happened last night?” Cam asked.
“I'm fairly certain you got hit by a sim-IED,” Jay replied with a laugh, “It was unexpected, but I was forced to carry you on my shoulders for almost half a mile.”
“I am so sorry,” He said with sudden realization and regret but in a light-hearted tone.
“Hahaha, it's good, man! Talk about a leg workout, though,” He said, rubbing his thighs.
The squads convened and generated plans for the next area. There was a display just before the trail to the upper shelf. It was a map that depicted the combat area with topographical lines and pixelated overhead shots of buildings and roads.
When they came back, Miran of the 1st squad spoke.
“Listen here!” He said, calling those over to the display. He pointed to a set of buildings after their entrance with a road leading to the left and right. “From the information we got from this display, this will be the first time we go against others from another Company. We're not to fire upon our brothers in yellow, and we're expected to meet them at the top.”
He relinquished control and passed it to Spears, Leader of the 3rd squad.
“This will also be the first time we go against the third combat element. They are apparently some type of automaton that is susceptible to Sim-rounds and are known to also patrol the roads and compounds of the upper shelf.”
He pointed to the map and noted that much of it was not very steep, allowing for more of a three-dimensional combat arena. However, the side opposite the compound had a steep hill that spread from left to right, forcing the roads to follow. Beyond it was a field of sparse buildings and trenches. The area was a mix of brown and green, indicating that it was a muddied field of combat. Parts of the shelf were also laden with forest areas, some denser than others. The sand was also closer to the left part of the shelf, and they were glad their route wouldn't take them there.
Spears trailed his hand on the path that led to the first compound and then to the road that led right. He traced his finger on the path, leading to a smaller compound with a straight road and one to the left. He took a left and stated that they would continue this path and would inevitably take the path of the trenches because beyond it was a series of hills that sat near their next and final entry.
That was their most direct path. Countless other paths were littered about that led to smaller buildings and vantage points. This discretion was granted to the squad leaders, and they set off with their squads when everyone was done loading their magazines.
Miran and Gale's squads were the first to take the trail, followed by Spear's and Collin's squads. When they reached the main road, each person loaded their first mag and entered a tactical column. When they reached about 500 meters from the previously mentioned compound, they split into fire teams, and Jay found himself with Cam, Fields, and Soren. They progressed in a wedge to the compound with Soren in the front, Fields and Cam on the sides and Jay at the rear.
The area before them allowed for multiple fire teams to spread out and apply different formations depending on the terrain. Their area was sparse with trees and bushes, but they progressed to the first compound. When they reached the edge of their tree line, they observed the roads and the buildings at the junction.
Using his rifle scope, he noticed thinly framed mechanic bodies with rifles as they patrolled the roads. The sun was cresting the horizon, and their frames reflected the light. Jay's fire team and two others organized a strike on the right flank as the group was leaving the compound and did so to get the other teams to flank on the left.
Jay's group fired when they were free from cover, and after a couple of seconds, the enemy fired back. Shots started coming from the buildings in their direction, and one of the teams directed their fire into the buildings, grabbing their attention. This continued firing toward them ceased but continued in the town. They took this time to systematically advance by alternating fire teams forward, enabling a fire team rush.
It wasn't long until their platoon gained control and cleared the buildings. The only items present were a modicum of Sim-Rounds passed around to those who shot, and they refilled their magazines to full. They continued on the route previously mentioned and continued in a dispersed fashion with their fire teams.
The road to their next destination was approximately six miles when they encountered enemy movement half a mile out. They stayed low and moved closer to the point of interest while using their environment.
As Jay drew close, he could hear laughing coming from the nearby buildings. He peeked around a corner and saw several surrounding one of the bots.
“What do you think will happen to us if we break it?” one asked, with a blue band around his and his allies' arms.
“I don't know,” another said, firing an extra shot into it, “It should still work. Maybe.”
Jay motioned to his team about the enemy, and that intel was then silently passed to nearby fire team leaders.
Jay fired into the closest one, who still brandished his rifle, and his team followed suit. Chaos erupted, and the rest of their team came to their aid, but their blue allies were already neutralized. They were then blindsided by the rest of Jay's platoon that enveloped the small compound. They shot the survivors in the chest, giving his platoon a 6-hour head start. They made it known that they were not to take from their enemy, even if it wasn't explicitly mentioned whether it was right or not.
They continued on the trail toward the fields and found themselves at the edge with some buildings they had cleared. The buildings were dilapidated and offered concealed surveillance on the field.
The road they took to the field ended at the buildings, and the field was encased in a valley of hills to their east and west. The road on the map from before had continued on the other side.
The field was a mix of shallow trenches, craters, and barbed wire barriers.
“What do you see, Jay?” Gale said from the stairs to the second story of a building Jay was peering from.
“The field is our only direct option, but I think the enemy is digging in on the other end. Looks like there was a route that leads to that end from the west.”
“I'll see if we can't flank 'em,” he said and retreated to the rest of the group. They split off the 4th squad that took the route south, steering clear of the compound they defeated and making their way westward. The rest of the platoon set up a rear-facing defense in the buildings overlooking the field. They would wait until the first shadow was cast over the field before they began their assault.
The enemy on the other side of the field refused to move, and soon the shadows began to cast. The sun rested behind the hill south of the field, and a couple of fire teams used that to help them creep along the field toward the other end. Shots to range from their rear, and an exchange of fire was executed that lasted for several minutes, then it ceased. The darker it got, the hard it was for them to see.
Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, shots erupted on the other end, which was their mark. Those not vital to the rear defense pulled away and joined the rush charge to the other end of the field, exchanging fire with those who still held an angle on Jay's platoon advance.
They tried firing into the field, hitting a couple of their squad mates, but Jay's fire team and one other made a successful right-flanking maneuver and fired into the prone gunner.
The rest of the platoon, who could fight, caught up and began a sweep of the weakly dug foxholes. The total force consisted of purple band recruits. Their squad mates carried those from their platoon that were hit on the path to the gate.
When they crested a hill that led to the gate, they were met with a series of paths that seemingly led through toward the next entry. Those with full fire teams spread out on the trails in fire team columns and actively scanned the terrain.
They slowly moved and paused at every suspicious sound. Some fire teams would come across an enemy team, and when their identities were made of what company they belonged to, they were fired upon and vice versa. The hills they occupied close to the second checkpoint were a war zone, and Jay's platoon solidified their tactics. They recovered all from the engagements and when they were clearly pressed forward. Their secondary advance on the hills improved when it was noticed that many of the groups they found out here were nothing but fire teams or scouts. At least only those who got close enough.
After several more minutes of walking, their platoon reached the gate and secured an area that overlooked it. They took their collapsible shovel and dug foxholes of their own, and split into teams of two. One would dig, and the other would hold an arc of fire. This is how they organized their foxholes, with overlapping fields of view in a wide area.
“Jay, you got any spare snacks? Cam asked as he dug his hole.
“Maybe. What's in it for me?”
“The kindness of your heart will make the day of an individual?” he said with a straight face.
“Then, no.”
“C'mon. All this digging is using too much work for such little food.” Cam continued to complain.
To stop him, Jay tossed him some jalapeño cheese topping.
“You owe me,” to which Cam graciously accepted and finished digging his hole for Jay to continue on his.
They had less time to sleep, and Jay took the first watch while Cam slept in his shallow hole.
Several hours into his nap, gunfire erupted near the gate, and two platoons fought each other. The light from the gate illuminated numerous soldiers, revealing they had yellow bands, and Cam was seen firing into the group that attacked further on the road, as did others in his troop.
Spears called out to the group on the defense.
“Hey! What platoon are you from? Or we shoot you too!”
There was a pause, and a strained yell came from the nearest recruit.
“Twenty-One Sixty-Three!!!”
“We're Twenty-One Sixty-One!! We're here to help!” His squad fired on the now defensive group when they were routed by Miran's squad from the west and retreated to beyond the field. They didn't fire on those trying to carry their friends out, but they kept a watchful eye on them and their surroundings, and the sun was starting to break on the horizon.
The squad leaders spoke with each other and agreed that since they were of the same company, they would progress up the mountain when the gates opened. Which, from the timer, was only fifteen minutes from now.
The two merged platoons then held their arc of fire until the gates opened, and when they did, those that were 'wounded' were carried first up the mountain in stretchers that 2163 procured from one of their compounds. The rest of the platoons filtered through the gate, starting with the outermost teams until all started their climb.
The climb was wary, and since they were the first, they relaxed from the thought of an ambush, but they still kept their eyes peeled, and as fate would have it, they were indeed ambushed.
“CONTACT RIGHT!!” shouted the first to notice them.
The platoons turned right and went prone, simultaneously firing into the wilderness. This was another common tactic when on patrol in a column. The sun filtered through the brush and trees, and the recruits shot at what shined back until the last of it went dark, and flashes of the enemy's rifles ceased.
A team advanced and verified that the bots that were ambushed were down for the count. Tensions were heightened, and they continued their climb in silence.
They continued to look behind them whenever the trail was more than a bend for the other group. The fear of them catching up prompted them to quicken the pace, and with some of the previously wounded having their tranquilize effects wear off, they lessened the burden greatly from their saviors. As such, the overall pace of the mixed platoon hastened.
A cry of joy erupted from one of the members in the front, and those in the front began to run. Jay, Cam, and the others caught up; they, too, shouted in joy.
They had finally entered the armistice zone, and combat was now prohibited beyond this point. Jay continued, sweat dampening his freshly dried uniform and under suit as he ran ahead with Cam in tow.
Jay and the others finally crested the hill to a leveled clearing, and a landing zone was present on the far edge of the area. Spots for Golf, Hotel, and India company were set up with decorations of flags from the Terran Republic and the ODR Flag.
They had made it to the peak, and tears were shed upon their realization. They had passed their test. They were now Raiders...
... “Yes sir. I recommend Private Jay Kurt for a special duty assignment due to his prior experience as a pilot,” spoke a rugged man sporting a black military service uniform with silver colored accents; Gunnery Sergeant Slaughter.
“Do you have any other prospective additions for the Program? They will be going deep into enemy territory, so they need to be cohesive, and young, to be utilized during their prime,” replied a figure, whose visage was was obscured by light and shadow.
“Then,” the figured continued, “who are they?”
“I can offer PFC Spears, Private Cameron, and PFC Gale. I can also vouch for Privates Soren and Fields, as those two were in a fire team with Kurt and Cameron,” replied Slaughter, “I have personally reviewed their squad's cohesion during their final Raider Test, but I think it's still too early for them. I suggest letting them experience a Raider Blood Trial. To know what it truly means to be a Raider.”
The figure scoffed at the reply, “A Blood Trial? What is it with you Raiders and your trials?”
Slaughter replied with confidence and an air of superiority, “I can't describe to you how a Blood Trial is. It's something that has to be experienced, and combat is the only way they will learn. It is a core tenet of our organization.”
“Very Well, Gunnery Sergeant. I would appreciate it if they live through such an archaic rite of passage. Just make sure I have soldiers for my T.R.U. Program,” said the figure, unsatisfied with his explanation.
“I understand. They will be tasked with Cobra Company, of 4th Battalion. They're decent with the new guys and they fight well. They're being sent to the front as we speak, in time for them to earn their Trial, then we can see about getting them transferred,” replied Slaughter, hoping that his reassurance satiated the darkened figure.
“Then await their success in battle,” replied the figure, with the call terminating once their final word was spoken.
“Understood.”