got a Squad of people depending on me. That is my life."
Sometimes that life was better than others. Right now they sat within a laboratory complex they couldn't use, under strict orders not to touch any of the equipment, chafing at the weeks of unaccustomed living in underground quarters. Not that Stark let them spend all their time in comfort there. "Chen, I could've put six rounds through you while you hung above the surface that time."
"I thought I was pushing off from dust, but it was rock,"
Chen complained, huddled behind a jagged boulder that apparently had been blasted out of some distant area before slamming into place here unknown centuries ago.
"Don't think," Stark ordered harshly. "Don't guess. Know what you're doing every second." He shifted to view another member of the Squad trying to advance under cover, bobbing among the rocks that littered the open area not far from the entrance to the lab complex. On his HUD, targeting data painted the soldier with an array of kill points. "Hector, keep your head down."
"I gotta see where I'm going, Sarge!"
"No, you don't. You memorize the route you're going to cover before you rush forward." Stark shifted to the Squad-level broadcast. "Listen up, people. This is just like back home. You know how to move under combat conditions. Do it!"
"Sarge?" Gomez asked. "It's really hard moving here. You know, every time I push or shove I either do it too hard or too light. And everything looks wrong 'cause there ain't no air."
"No kidding, Gomez. Here's a question for you, and I want everybody to listen to the answer. How do you get better at something?"
"Uh, you practice, Sarge."
"Very good. So guess what we're going to do until we know how to do it cold?"
"Okay, Sarge," Gomez agreed without noticeable enthusiasm. A ragged series of reluctant assents came from the rest of the Squad.
"Good. Now, we're going to run through another advance and another fall-back drill. If you apes do a good enough job on those, we can take a break."
Two hours later, soldiers still sweating from the exertion of moving under conditions alien to their every experience had their battle armor laid out for maintenance. Desoto moved close to Stark, indicating the other soldiers with a tilt of his head. "They're trying hard, Sergeant."
"I know that. But they haven't learned it all yet. They gotta try harder."
"They're tired, Sergeant."
"Would they rather be dead?" Stark raised his voice, addressing the Squad as a whole. "Anybody got any comments or complaints?" Soldiers exchanged glances but remained silent. "Come on. Open up."
Murphy looked at Stark defiantly. "None of the other squads is doing this, Sarge. They drill a little bit, but nothing like this."
"None of the other squads?" Stark asked. "Which squads in particular?"
"I don't wanna get nobody in trouble, Sarge."
"You won't. This stays in this room. Which squads?"
"Well, Second Squad in First Platoon. That's one."
"Uh-huh." Stark swiveled his head to view every member of the Squad. "Last op. How many casualties did Second Squad, First Platoon take?"
"Three," Gomez offered. "One dead, two wounded, right?"
"It was four," Mendoza corrected softly. "The fourth had a light wound."
"If they didn't have to leave duty, it don't count," Gomez argued.
"Knock it off," Stark interrupted. "Now, how many casualties did this Squad suffer?"
"None, Sarge. We were lucky."
"Really?" Stark demanded. "You think luck is all that kept you alive and in one piece? You guys are alive because I won't settle for less than the best from you. You're all alive because I drill you when your buddies in other squads are lying in their bunks playing vid games. And you know what? I'm going to keep drilling you until you're all perfect."
"But there's no enemy here," Billings pointed out. •
"Not yet," Stark agreed. "You want to wait until they show up to learn how to move and fight up here, Billings? Any of you want that?"
"Wouldn't matter if we did, would
Sometimes that life was better than others. Right now they sat within a laboratory complex they couldn't use, under strict orders not to touch any of the equipment, chafing at the weeks of unaccustomed living in underground quarters. Not that Stark let them spend all their time in comfort there. "Chen, I could've put six rounds through you while you hung above the surface that time."
"I thought I was pushing off from dust, but it was rock,"
Chen complained, huddled behind a jagged boulder that apparently had been blasted out of some distant area before slamming into place here unknown centuries ago.
"Don't think," Stark ordered harshly. "Don't guess. Know what you're doing every second." He shifted to view another member of the Squad trying to advance under cover, bobbing among the rocks that littered the open area not far from the entrance to the lab complex. On his HUD, targeting data painted the soldier with an array of kill points. "Hector, keep your head down."
"I gotta see where I'm going, Sarge!"
"No, you don't. You memorize the route you're going to cover before you rush forward." Stark shifted to the Squad-level broadcast. "Listen up, people. This is just like back home. You know how to move under combat conditions. Do it!"
"Sarge?" Gomez asked. "It's really hard moving here. You know, every time I push or shove I either do it too hard or too light. And everything looks wrong 'cause there ain't no air."
"No kidding, Gomez. Here's a question for you, and I want everybody to listen to the answer. How do you get better at something?"
"Uh, you practice, Sarge."
"Very good. So guess what we're going to do until we know how to do it cold?"
"Okay, Sarge," Gomez agreed without noticeable enthusiasm. A ragged series of reluctant assents came from the rest of the Squad.
"Good. Now, we're going to run through another advance and another fall-back drill. If you apes do a good enough job on those, we can take a break."
Two hours later, soldiers still sweating from the exertion of moving under conditions alien to their every experience had their battle armor laid out for maintenance. Desoto moved close to Stark, indicating the other soldiers with a tilt of his head. "They're trying hard, Sergeant."
"I know that. But they haven't learned it all yet. They gotta try harder."
"They're tired, Sergeant."
"Would they rather be dead?" Stark raised his voice, addressing the Squad as a whole. "Anybody got any comments or complaints?" Soldiers exchanged glances but remained silent. "Come on. Open up."
Murphy looked at Stark defiantly. "None of the other squads is doing this, Sarge. They drill a little bit, but nothing like this."
"None of the other squads?" Stark asked. "Which squads in particular?"
"I don't wanna get nobody in trouble, Sarge."
"You won't. This stays in this room. Which squads?"
"Well, Second Squad in First Platoon. That's one."
"Uh-huh." Stark swiveled his head to view every member of the Squad. "Last op. How many casualties did Second Squad, First Platoon take?"
"Three," Gomez offered. "One dead, two wounded, right?"
"It was four," Mendoza corrected softly. "The fourth had a light wound."
"If they didn't have to leave duty, it don't count," Gomez argued.
"Knock it off," Stark interrupted. "Now, how many casualties did this Squad suffer?"
"None, Sarge. We were lucky."
"Really?" Stark demanded. "You think luck is all that kept you alive and in one piece? You guys are alive because I won't settle for less than the best from you. You're all alive because I drill you when your buddies in other squads are lying in their bunks playing vid games. And you know what? I'm going to keep drilling you until you're all perfect."
"But there's no enemy here," Billings pointed out. •
"Not yet," Stark agreed. "You want to wait until they show up to learn how to move and fight up here, Billings? Any of you want that?"
"Wouldn't matter if we did, would
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