no showers. Around him the rest of his platoon were doing the same. At first it had been odd, but after weeks of training he and the rest of the mixed unit were too tired to really care anymore. As far as he could see a line of naked men and woman simply used the opportunity to relax. As he washed away the sweat and grime he spotted the Hispanic woman he’d first met when leaving the station.
“Teresa,” he muttered to himself as he remembered her name.
After just a few seconds he went across the shower block, moving the odd person who always seemed to get in the way. As he approached he felt a pang of embarrassment as he saw her naked. Her skin was dark and the water ran down her making her body glisten. Her black hair seemed longer in the shower, it ran down to her shoulders and for some reason all Spartan could think about was that surely it was against regulations. He was about to speak when he noticed her looking at him.
“Spartan, you okay there?” she said with a smirk.
He stood for a moment, a little surprised before regaining his composure.
“Of course, what are you doing here? You’re not in this platoon, are you?”
“Haven’t you noticed you’re down a man? Apparently, somebody has been getting a bit physical in the close quarter combat classes and they needed somebody new, I’m a replacement for your platoon. I volunteered.” She smiled at him as he laughed.
“Ah, I see. Am I supposed to be flattered?”
Teresa turned back to the shower, letting the water run over her face for a little longer before turning back to him.
“Maybe.”
“Anyway, how is the training going? We have Harris, he’s got a major hard on for bayonets,” she asked as she brought the subject back to their training.
“Yeah, same for us, these guys do like their little knives! We’ve done some marksmanship with the training rifles and loads of physical training.”
Teresa came out from under the shower, moving a little closer to Spartan. “Physical training, huh?”
The buzzer on the wall indicated the end of their shower. The water cut abruptly with just warm steam spreading through the room.
“L48 Rifle training to start in eight minutes,” came the voice before the system went silent.
The recruits left the shower area, drying themselves and getting dressed. Teresa and Spartan stood at the end of the block. Teresa noticed some of the scarring running down Spartan’s back.
“God, what caused that?”
Spartan stopped and tried to work out where she was looking. “Which one?” he asked, finding it difficult to identify the exact injury.
Teresa reached out and ran her hand along a scar from his shoulder to his ribs. Her unexpected contact made him jump a little.
“Ah, yeah, that one. It was from one of my last fights before I volunteered.” He put extra special emphasis on the last word.
“What kind of weapon could have done it?” she asked, genuinely interested.
“You’d be surprised, it was a blunt mace fitted with dull studs. It wasn’t supposed to cut the flesh, that was supposed to be part of the deal but somebody, I don’t know who rigged the fight and replaced the stubs with small spikes.”
“Christ! How did you get out of that one?” she asked as she pulled on her top.
“Well, at first I didn’t. The wound was massive but the guy was cocky. He made the mistake of getting too close to check on his handiwork.”
“I take it you explained this to him?” She stood there grinning at him.
Spartan looked away and at the recruits leaving the room, he took in a deep breath, remembering the bloody fight and the injuries involved. It was strange, at the time he had hated every single minute of it, but now that he looked back to the events just months ago he almost missed the action.
“Something like that.”
It had taken over a month for the CCS Santa Maria to make her way around the storms that surrounded the planet Prometheus. Spartan had heard the Marine Corps actively recruited from the gangs and captured criminals. In fact it was the only reason the ship made the dangerous journey, to collect the toughest and most violent men in the Proxima System. Apparently now they were in open space the vessel spent most of its time coasting so that training could begin. They could fire up the engines and be anywhere in the sector in no more than a few weeks but they had another dozen stops and new recruits arrived with each new planet or station they passed by. Spartan barely noticed any of this though, he was determined to make amends and if this meant being a Marine then he was damned sure he was going to be the best!
Training had now progressed to the firearms stage and Spartan was starting to feel the competition. Unlike most of the recruits, he had little experience with shooting and actually found the action of waiting and taking careful aim to be less than exciting. All of his combat experience had been in the brutal close quarter brawling of the illegal pit fights. In those fights it was all about individual combat, fighting skill and attitude. There were few that could face him in a fight and expect to win, but that didn’t involve the use of firearms. This was a total change for him and he was having a problem getting around to the idea that even the weakest, most inexperienced recruit could bring him down with a standard issue firearm.
The Drill Sergeant was certainly not going any easier on them. But at least he seemed to have a minor measure of respect for the improvements in discipline and close quarter combat they had worked on. They had already been issued with their weapons, though it had been made clear from the start that they were being loaded with safe ammunition that would cause no more than bruises.
This was the largest training hall on the ship and reinforced with three layers on the outer hull proofed against all the weapons they used. Even if anything did go wrong there was an additional section fitted outside, but that had apparently never happened. They had already trained in this section and the space was big enough to conduct anything up to platoon-sized actions, with or without weapons. Now, the one end was equipped as a firing range although Spartan had seen it previously equipped as a mock village and tunnel sequence for use by the recruits.
The Sergeant stepped forward and held a weapon up in front of him.
“This here is the L48 rifle. It is the standard ranged weapon of every marine and you will carry it wherever you go. It is available in both rifle and carbine versions. The default round is 12.7mm, this makes it a large calibre weapon but with improvements in recoil reduction, you will notice almost no different to the 10mm training round. The selector will choose proximity modes on the bullets giving you flexibility in combat. As with every marine rifle the M11 bayonet will easily fit without affecting the balance of the weapon.” He walked down the line.
“Each magazine carries twenty rounds of variable operation ammunition. You will not waste these. In combat, you must make every round count. If you need greater firepower, we still have the modular 6mm module that will allow you to fit the smaller calibre box magazine to both the rifle and carbine variants. These are recommended for close quarter assault roles only or for use in sealed environments where armour penetration could be a problem. For most occasions, you will want the flexibility of the new 12.7mm VO rounds. These will give you the most tactical advantages.” He held up one of the rounds.
“Now, watch carefully whilst I demonstrate the use of this damned fine piece of equipment!”
He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and aimed down the range. At the far end was a line of cardboard shapes that looked very roughly man sized. He squeezed the trigger and fired a single round. There was a muffled report as the round blasted from the weapon and smashed straight through the target’s head leaving a milk bottle-sized hole.
“Now, that was the standard mode and uses none of the advantages of the new VO rounds. The next mode is what we call armour-penetrating mode. It will trigger a small explosive blast at a distance of one metre behind the first object it strikes. This means you can put a round through a wall or lightly armoured vehicle and still take out the man inside,” he said with a wry grin.
The Sergeant flicked the selector on the side and fired again at the next target. This time there was a sheet
