First To Fight (The Empire's Corps Book 11) (16 page)

“Exercise terminated,” Nordstrom said, over the communications network.  It looked as though we weren't going to have a chance to exterminate the remaining terrorists, even though it would be pointless.  “I say again, exercise terminated.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Joker snarled, as he picked himself up.  “What sort of stupid fucking idiot would come up with a half-assed plan like that?”

I found it hard to disagree as we walked back down the hillside and back to the RV point, where Viper was surrounded by a handful of angry-looking recruits.  It reminded me of school, when one of the unpopular kids was lynched and beaten to death; Viper looked torn between defending himself and keeping his mouth firmly shut.  If the Drill Instructors hadn't been there, I think the whole issue would have been settled through violence.

“
That
was one of the worst showings I have ever seen in my long career,” Nordstrom said, coldly.  “Seven recruits killed, along with twenty-five hostages.  A
complete
failure by any reasonable standard.”

I swallowed.  We’d been told that accidents happened during hostage rescue missions and, sometimes, the hostages were killed by the people trying to save them.  But this time, the terrorists had had a plan to kill all the hostages and, thanks to Viper, had been given time to hit the switch before it was too late.  If it had happened in reality, I had a feeling there would be an inquest and possibly a court martial.  Viper had screwed up badly ... and, as it wasn't the first time we’d gone through such an exercise, he hadn’t learned from earlier screw-ups.

“So tell me,” Nordstrom said.  “What went wrong?”

He glowered at Viper, who paled.  “This recruit’s plan didn’t work,” he said, slowly.  At least he was willing to admit it had been
his
plan.  “
That’s
what went wrong.”

“How true,” Nordstrom agreed.  “And
why
didn't the plan work?”

“Because the enemy saw us coming,” Viper said.

“True, but
very
incomplete,” Nordstrom said.  His voice was very cold.  “You committed two separate cardinal sins, recruit.  The first was that you assumed your enemy was stupid.  The second was that you clung to the plan even when it fell apart.”

He paused, significantly.  “Your plan wasn't a bad one, but it failed to take account of a sudden change in conditions.  You intended to assault the schoolhouse from three different directions, after getting your people in place.  However, the enemy had both spotters watching for your approach and a pre-prepared ambush.  You discovered the former, thanks to your observers” - he nodded at Joker and me - “and yet you failed to adjust your plan.  The latter could have been discovered with a more careful approach, giving you a chance to back off without alerting the enemy.”

“Stalker and Joker already killed a terrorist,” Viper protested.

“Which wasn't an immediate problem,” Nordstrom said.  “You would have had time to decide on a new approach before the terrorists realised they were missing someone.”

He paused, his expression darkening.  “At that point, the whole idea was sinking fast.  Your original plan was dead in the water.  You could have ordered a rush at the schoolhouse, using grenades to clear the buildings as you rushed past them, if you had thought it wasn't worth the risk of backing off and finding a new angle of approach.  Instead, you hesitated and kept following the plan until it was far too late.  It cost you the mission and far too many lives.”

I swallowed.  It hadn't been my fault, but I still felt as though I’d failed.

“These missions are never easy,” Nordstrom said.  “We shall be doing it again and again, until you understand just how to balance planning and on-the-fly improvising.  Do you understand me?”

“YES, SIR,” we bellowed.

“Good,” Nordstrom said.  He made a show of checking his watch.  “Seeing we still have another hour before chow, we might as well spend it on the training field.  There are some exercises that will remind you, once again, of the value of teamwork ...”

“Perhaps he’s a plant,” Professor muttered, later that night.  Our free hour wasn't, thanks to an order to go through everything that had gone wrong and work out how we could have done better.  “They put him here deliberately to see how we react to him.”

“Or perhaps he needs a beating,” Thug suggested.  It was odd how he and Professor had become friends, but they’d learned to rely on each other - and, of course, the rest of us.  “He just got us killed!”

“Only in a simulation,” Posh pointed out.

“That didn't save
me
from being bawled out for accidentally shooting Smartass in the back,” Joker snapped.  “We’re supposed to treat these as if they were
real
.”

“Maybe we should all complain,” Professor said.  “It could be one of those tricks where we
have
to report someone.”

“Or be taken for snitches,” Thug growled.  “If we’re supposed to be a team, and we are, how can we betray him?”

“There's a difference between betraying someone who works hard to be part of a team and someone who manifestly isn't interested,” Professor offered.

“Give it until the next set of exams,” I suggested.  We’d been warned that the second set would be harder than the first.  “If he doesn't improve, we can complain as a body.”

“Or have another word with him,” Thug said, cracking his knuckles.  “I think this has gone far too far.”

Chapter Sixteen

Loyalty, of course, depends upon loyalty.  A person who is not shown loyalty will not feel any great urge to offer it himself.  This, of course, explains why so many institutions in the Empire were crumbling to dust; the best and brightest workers felt underappreciated, so they kept their ideas to themselves or sought better opportunities elsewhere.  Ironically, the one place where loyalty was actually rewarded - the bureaucracy - was the one place where it was actively harmful ...

-Professor Leo Caesius

The written exams for the second phase were harder than the first, but - thanks to endless cramming - I didn't have many problems with them.  But I was dreading - really dreading - the practical exam.  It would be the hardest thing I’d ever done (at least until the
next
hardest thing I’d ever done came along.)

“All right, ladies,” Bainbridge said.  “Pay attention, because I’m going to tell you this once and only once.”

He glowered at us all.  “You will be taken up in an airplane and parachuted down to a location within Kirkwood,” he continued.  Kirkwood was a vast wilderness to the north of Boot Camp, where we'd gone for survival training.  “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to make your way through Kirkwood to the RV point.  The good news is that you will have a standard emergency pack with you; the bad news is that a team of dedicated hunters will be after you.  Should they catch you before you reach the RV point and safety, you will be taken to a POW camp and interrogated.  They will do everything in their power to make you give up the piece of sensitive information” - he held up a set of folded envelopes - “that you will be carrying.  I don’t think I need to add that you will fail if you tell them anything more than the basics.”

There was a long pause.  I felt sick.

“You will be completely on your own from the moment you’re launched out of the plane,” he warned.  “In the unlikely event of you stumbling across one of your comrades, you are not allowed to stay together.  Give each other the finger and then move on or you will be counted as a failure.  You will also be given a dedicated emergency transponder, just in case you run into trouble.  Using it will mean another automatic failure unless you have a
very
good excuse.  Any questions?”

“Yes, sir,” Professor said.  “This recruit would like to know if there’s a
reason
we can’t stay together?”

“Because this is a solo test,” Bainbridge said.  “If we had the time, each of you would be sent in completely alone.  However, Kirkwood is large enough to minimise the odds of you running into each other accidentally.  Any other questions?”

I frowned.  Perhaps we could ... but it was a bad idea.  They’d be tracking us through the implants, I was sure, and they’d know if we stayed together.  And if we were being chased, two people would be easier to track than one. 

Thug held up a hand.  “This recruit would like to know how long we have to complete the exercise?”

“It shouldn't take more than a day for you to escape, unless you get lost,” Bainbridge said.  “If you’re not back in two days, we might just start getting worried.”

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“The hunters will be dispatched from their base at the same moment you are booted out of the airplane,” Bainbridge warned, after it was clear that no one else had any questions.  “You will, at best, have twenty minutes to make yourselves scarce before they arrive at your landing site and start hunting.  I suggest you remember the basics and put some distance between yourself and the landing site before it’s too late.”

He took a breath.  “The aircraft will depart in thirty minutes,” he concluded.  “Be there or fail.”

“This should be fun,” Joker said, as he checked his survival pack.  “I could stay ahead of them long enough to escape.”

I nodded, but I still felt sick.  Countless hours of survival training hadn't made me feel
much
better about walking through the countryside, even though I’d grown up trying to slip through dark corridors where gangsters could easily be lurking, waiting for me.  The jungle that made up much of Kirkwood was terrifying, on a very primal level.  Joker, who’d had much more experience of open spaces, didn't seem so scared.

“See you on the far side,” I said.  My survival pack, as per orders, held a small collection of ration bars, a bottle of water and a map and compass.  It was lucky my map-reading skills had improved or I would have been in deep shit.  “Have a good one.”

“You too, mate,” Joker said.  We headed for the plane, silently preparing ourselves for the ordeal to come.  “You too.”

Bainbridge greeted us when we reached the plane.  “This is your piece of information,” he ordered, passing us each an envelope.  “Open it, read it, then give it back to me.”

I glanced at the envelope, then opened it carefully.  Inside, there was a single sheet of paper, with a single line of text.  THE PEN OF MY AUNT IS IN THE GARDEN.  I blinked in astonishment - I’d expected something different, perhaps information on military operations - but it did make a certain kind of sense.  The nonsensical phase was easy to remember and, naturally, hard to forget.  I shivered, again, as I recalled the training I’d been given on resisting interrogation.  Did they know what they were trying to get me to say?  Or were they merely planning to interrogate me until I coughed up the truth?

“That’s funny,” Joker said.  “Why ...?”

“That piece of information is yours and yours alone,” Bainbridge said, curtly.  “Do not share it with anyone else.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.  I put the paper back in the envelope, then passed it to him.  The pen of my aunt was in the garden.  I wouldn’t forget.  “When do we leave?”

He gave me an evil look.  “Now.”

The skies were darkening rapidly as the pilot took the plane into the air, the airframe shuddering so much I was sure we were going to have a
real
accident.  Humans had learned a great deal about terraforming since Mars had been colonised over two thousand years ago - it wasn't uncommon for Mars-like worlds to be terraformed within a century - but Mars still had ghastly storms that sprang up from time to time.  I had an unfortunate feeling it was going to start raining badly and, as long as it happened after I landed, that was fine by me.  Visibility would be down to almost nothing, giving me more opportunity to hide.

“Stalker,” the jumpmaster bellowed.  I had never warmed to him.  He seemed to have a nose for sniffing fear and a sadistic urge to exploit it.  “You’re up!”

“Good luck,” Joker called.

I waved, then jumped out of the plane and plummeted down towards the forest canopy.  The skies looked eerie, a dark blue that suggested the clouds were crammed full of water.  It struck me that I was in very deep shit if the rain started to fall while I was still in the air - I had no idea what would happen if the rain started to hammer the chute - but there was no time to do anything, but pray.  I pulled the cord at the right moment and braced myself as I fell into the canopy.  I wasn't sure what would happen if my chute wound up hanging from a tree either, apart from the hunting team laughing their asses off when they finally found me ...

The skies opened bare minutes after I hit the ground.  I scooped up the parachute, packed it into my bag and stumbled away from the landing zone, knowing I didn't have much time before the hunters gave chase.  Water splashed down around me, running down through the trees; I headed downwards, despite the risks.  It would be harder for them to pick up on my trail.  I was drenched within seconds, soaked to the skin; by the time I reached an overhang I could use for shelter, it seemed rather pointless.  Thunder roared overhead as I pulled the map out of my pocket - luckily, it was waterproof - and checked the compass.  I wasn't
quite
sure where I was, but if I kept walking southwards I would eventually cross the river.  That would take me down to a place where the river divided into two branches, which would tell me where to leave the river and keep walking south.  Or so I hoped.  There was no way I could read the skies, given how overcast it was; if I was so far wrong that I couldn't find the river, I was hopelessly lost.  Gritting my teeth, I returned the map to my pocket and started to walk.

It felt like hours before the rain finally came to a halt.  I allowed myself a moment of relief, then walked with more caution.  The rain hadn't just made visibility a joke, it had covered up my movements and hidden any noise I might make.  Now, they could hear me if I stepped on a twig or did something equally stupid.  I listened as carefully as I could, but I couldn't hear anything that was remotely human.  Insects were buzzing through the trees, birds were flying high overhead and small animals were jumping through the undergrowth.  I blinked as the skies cleared and sunlight came pouring down, then kept moving as the temperature began to rise.  It wasn't long before I was hot, sweaty and uncomfortable.  I seriously considered taking off my uniform, before deciding that a modicum of comfort wasn't worth giving up the camouflage.  A naked man would be much easier to catch.

I pulled a ration bar from my survival pack when I felt a hunger pang and chewed it slowly, without stopping.  The ground had dried rapidly, forcing me to pick my way forward with extreme care to avoid leaving marks.  I thought briefly about reversing my boots, to make it look as though I was headed in the other direction, then dismissed it as a tactic that only worked in bad novels and worse flicks.  Besides, I couldn't do anything of the sort unless I walked backwards and then I’d only walk into something. 

Something
moved
behind me.  I froze, then turned; I saw nothing, but for a second I heard a snatch of someone whispering.  I dropped low, crawling forward on my belly as fast as I could.  How the hell had they caught up with me so fast?  Did they have a tracking dog with them?  I’d heard about K9 units, but I’d never seen one ... a dog?  How did one evade a dog’s nose?  There were chemicals one could use, yet I didn't have any of them.  Water?  Water might work, but I wasn't sure just how far I was from the river.  I glanced at the compass, just to make sure I was going in the right direction, then kept moving.  From time to time, I heard noises behind me, but they didn't seem to be getting closer.  Maybe I was imagining them ...?

Or maybe they’re driving me into a trap
, I thought.  I had no intention of surrendering quietly when they found me, if they did.  Maybe I hadn't been allowed weapons, but I still had my fists. 
If there's someone ahead of me
...

I cursed, mentally, as the temperature grew hotter.  We hadn't been told just how many men were attached to the hunting unit, but I could guess.  Assuming the upper platoons were the same as ours, there were nine squads ... and ten of us, parachuted into Kirkwood.  That suggested each hunting squad had eight men - and, perhaps, radios.  Maybe they were trying to coordinate a pincer, slowly tightening the noose around me.  Gritting my teeth, I turned and crawled to the side for several minutes, then returned to walking south.  It shouldn’t be long until the river ...

It still managed to surprise me when I walked into it.  I had never seen a river on Earth and the handful of rivers I’d seen on Mars had been orderly, designed to serve as training grounds. 
This
river had burst its banks; I could see trees poking up from the water as it poured onwards, down to the sea.  I heard someone or something behind me, again; cursing, I splashed forward and into the water, allowing it to carry me down towards the distant fork.  If I
was
being hunted by dogs, they’d have some problems tracking me once I was in the water.

I could have enjoyed the water, even though my uniform rapidly became waterlogged - again - and I had to grab hold of a branch to ensure I stayed afloat.  Swimming in the pool was a chore, not a hobby; the water training we’d endured had been savage, leading to at least two recruits quitting when they almost drowned.  I honestly couldn't understand why some people swam for fun.  Now, though, I thought I understood.  It was almost relaxing ... hell, I almost fell asleep before I saw the fork in the river and swam ashore.  I checked my compass, walked south long enough to be out of sight, then rechecked the map before starting my walk once again. 

The temperature kept rising, drying me out.  I paused to eat another ration bar and take a drink of water, then kept moving.  Tiny insects buzzed around me; I tried to swat at them, then gave up and endured their attentions as best as I could.  I’d never seen anything like them on Earth (I later learned some idiot had introduced creatures called mosquitoes to Mars).  I kept an eye on my compass as the trees hedged closer - I could have sworn they were moving, if I hadn't known it was impossible - trying to make sure I was on the right route.  It would be easy to accidentally lose my bearings and turn east or west.  I picked a way through the trees carefully, freezing in place as I heard something crashing through the branches.  Moments later, a large animal came into view and peered at me with dark beady eyes.