corporal
bellowed. "The M39 fires an electrothermal-chemical propelled 8.5mm
steel-tipped copper-alloy projectile, capable of penetrating a class VII armor
plate out to fifteen hundred meters. The maximum effective range of the M39
against light personal armor is three thousand meters. The M39 has an
integrated smart-sight. That means that the M39 does not miss! If you acquire
your target and lock it in, the round will hit where it's aimed. If you aimed
at your enemy, he will die! If your enemy acquires you first, you will die! Is
that concept clear to you recruits?"
***
Wearing
an infantry frame was a lot, a lot, easier than Cal had expected it to be. The
frame was an exoskeleton of servo-powered armatures that moved when he moved.
When he'd first seen one, he' thought that the mass of the power pack, not to
mention the weapons and armor plate the soldier inside the frame had to wear,
would make just balancing the thing almost impossible. The frame balanced
without any effort at all, and with the power on, the weight of the power-pack,
armor and weapons was nothing. You could sprint in a frame, as fast as if you
were wearing just your shoes and running shorts, and you could do it while
carrying a hundred kilograms of gear and armor. You could jump over a
meter-high obstacle like a track-and-field hurdler. And you were bullet-proof,
at least against anything lighter than an anti-frame rifle like the M39.
"Remember,"
called the instructor-corporal. "You have to move, acquire your target and
shoot first. First! Whoever acquires first wins. Whoever loses dies. If you
can't acquire a target fast, you move for cover, pop out in a different
location and try again. Keep moving. Keep weaving. Don't make it easy for the
other guy to kill you!"
The
exercise ahead of them was a mix of a shooting range and an obstacle course.
The recruits would be timed on how fast they crossed it, graded on how many
targets they managed to hit, and penalized if any of the emplaced targeting
lasers —simulated enemy framers— that managed to get a lock on them
for long enough to have put an enemy round on target.
The
recruits were running through the course one by one, while their comrades
waited behind a tall, rammed-earth wall, where they couldn't see what the
course was like, until it was their turn to go.
It
was a good thing, Cal thought, that Reiko had washed out of the Infantry Corps
a week ago. Some women had the aggression and the upper body strength to manage
a frame, but most, Reiko included, didn't. If she'd still have been here, he
thought with a smile, he might have been short on sleep again. At any rate, he'd
given her his newly assigned integrated comm-code; it was supposed to be
secure, but Reiko was pretty good with data systems, and figured she could use
it to keep in touch. Using the comm-code that way was technically against the
rules, but he figured there was no harm in it, and maybe they'd be able to get
together on leave. Meanwhile, she was training for the Supply Corps now, and
he'd had a good night's sleep to be ready for this.
"OK,
Recruit Piper! Go! Go! Go!"
Cal
moved. It was easy to run fast in the frame; harder to try to track the targets
smoothly though the smart-sight targeting system of the massive M39 rifle. At
least the frame made the rifle all but weightless in his hands; he'd had to
carry and fire it without the frame, and the ten kilogram weight of the monster
gun had been brutal... though not as brutal as the shoulder-slamming recoil of
the heavy, high-velocity 8.5mm armor piercing rounds it fired.
"Move,
move!" shouted the corporal, and Cal ran, vaulting smoothly over
obstacles. The frame's servos hissed and hummed as it took the weight of
power-pack, weapons and armor. There was no feeling of encumbrance at all, and
Cal felt exhilaratingly light and quick.
Ahead,
his helmet sensors pointed out a probable target and he brought the M39 up,
letting the smart-sight get a look at it. The huge rifle
bellowed. "The M39 fires an electrothermal-chemical propelled 8.5mm
steel-tipped copper-alloy projectile, capable of penetrating a class VII armor
plate out to fifteen hundred meters. The maximum effective range of the M39
against light personal armor is three thousand meters. The M39 has an
integrated smart-sight. That means that the M39 does not miss! If you acquire
your target and lock it in, the round will hit where it's aimed. If you aimed
at your enemy, he will die! If your enemy acquires you first, you will die! Is
that concept clear to you recruits?"
***
Wearing
an infantry frame was a lot, a lot, easier than Cal had expected it to be. The
frame was an exoskeleton of servo-powered armatures that moved when he moved.
When he'd first seen one, he' thought that the mass of the power pack, not to
mention the weapons and armor plate the soldier inside the frame had to wear,
would make just balancing the thing almost impossible. The frame balanced
without any effort at all, and with the power on, the weight of the power-pack,
armor and weapons was nothing. You could sprint in a frame, as fast as if you
were wearing just your shoes and running shorts, and you could do it while
carrying a hundred kilograms of gear and armor. You could jump over a
meter-high obstacle like a track-and-field hurdler. And you were bullet-proof,
at least against anything lighter than an anti-frame rifle like the M39.
"Remember,"
called the instructor-corporal. "You have to move, acquire your target and
shoot first. First! Whoever acquires first wins. Whoever loses dies. If you
can't acquire a target fast, you move for cover, pop out in a different
location and try again. Keep moving. Keep weaving. Don't make it easy for the
other guy to kill you!"
The
exercise ahead of them was a mix of a shooting range and an obstacle course.
The recruits would be timed on how fast they crossed it, graded on how many
targets they managed to hit, and penalized if any of the emplaced targeting
lasers —simulated enemy framers— that managed to get a lock on them
for long enough to have put an enemy round on target.
The
recruits were running through the course one by one, while their comrades
waited behind a tall, rammed-earth wall, where they couldn't see what the
course was like, until it was their turn to go.
It
was a good thing, Cal thought, that Reiko had washed out of the Infantry Corps
a week ago. Some women had the aggression and the upper body strength to manage
a frame, but most, Reiko included, didn't. If she'd still have been here, he
thought with a smile, he might have been short on sleep again. At any rate, he'd
given her his newly assigned integrated comm-code; it was supposed to be
secure, but Reiko was pretty good with data systems, and figured she could use
it to keep in touch. Using the comm-code that way was technically against the
rules, but he figured there was no harm in it, and maybe they'd be able to get
together on leave. Meanwhile, she was training for the Supply Corps now, and
he'd had a good night's sleep to be ready for this.
"OK,
Recruit Piper! Go! Go! Go!"
Cal
moved. It was easy to run fast in the frame; harder to try to track the targets
smoothly though the smart-sight targeting system of the massive M39 rifle. At
least the frame made the rifle all but weightless in his hands; he'd had to
carry and fire it without the frame, and the ten kilogram weight of the monster
gun had been brutal... though not as brutal as the shoulder-slamming recoil of
the heavy, high-velocity 8.5mm armor piercing rounds it fired.
"Move,
move!" shouted the corporal, and Cal ran, vaulting smoothly over
obstacles. The frame's servos hissed and hummed as it took the weight of
power-pack, weapons and armor. There was no feeling of encumbrance at all, and
Cal felt exhilaratingly light and quick.
Ahead,
his helmet sensors pointed out a probable target and he brought the M39 up,
letting the smart-sight get a look at it. The huge rifle
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