the ability to train them in infantry tactics, I barely knew the drill myself. But I could teach them how to handle their new bodies once they’d undergone the injections. I could teach them how to fight a Macro, to some degree. I could teach them about the laser units and backpack reactors, because I had designed them.
Special forces volunteers from every major military were represented. There were Russian Spetsnaz, Israeli Shayetet, Swedish Jagares, and even Chinese SLCU. Nearly half were U.S. troops, however. Green Berets, Marine Recon, Airborne, and a few from Delta. There were some from organizations I’d never heard of. I felt honored and a bit daunted to be in the company of such men, such professionals-especially since I was expected to lead them. Most had never fought a Macro, however. And none had felt the joys of the nanite injections.
I did spot one friendly face in the crowd of serious-eyed warriors. Sergeant Lionel Wilson, the man I’d brought back with me from my first pitched battle with the Macros. I clapped him on the back and he staggered a step. I brought him out of line to stand before the others.
“I know this man can fight the machines. I’ve personally fought with him, shoulder-to-shoulder against them. He knows how an improved man like myself operates. I’m making him my First Sergeant. The rest of you will have to earn your stripes all over again. I don’t care if you were a colonel yesterday. Here, you start fresh.”
They looked startled, but no one protested. I nodded and stood as stiffly as I could.
“After the injections, you will find yourself to be a different kind of man. You might not find it easy to return home. I urge anyone with second thoughts to bail out of here now, before you take the next step and change your body forever.”
They looked at me. No one spoke up. I wondered if they might come to regret their decision when the nanites began toying with their cell structure.
I’d produced new uniforms for these troops. They all had PFC stripes on them. I’d decided to go with Marine ranks and to start everyone one step from the bottom. The uniforms were different than standard fatigues. They were heavier. They were cumbersome, in fact. They had a lead lining and could be buttoned up for hazardous environments. We were likely to be wearing them in radioactive zones, and I wanted my men to be accustomed to that kind of sweltering, stiff gear.
A lot of the men were in civies. I handed out the new uniforms and gave them leave to get dressed. They all had to look the same, just to get them thinking like a team. Everyone spoke reasonable English, another requirement for joining. They could all talk to one another, they all wore the same thing and they were all veterans. I hoped these shared traits would help pull them together quickly into an effective fighting force. The joy of the injections would be another experience that would make us all brothers, I figured.
Next, I knew I had to impress them. Why the hell should they listen to me? That question had to be burning in their minds. I decided to show them why. First, I shouldered one of the new bulky reactors and gripped the connected beam unit. Then I marched them out into the jungle, to another region I’d plucked bare of trees. There were dark spots of open earth where trees had been hours before. The land looked like the gums of an old man who’d had all his teeth pulled at once. Big tropical insects crawled in every freshly-exposed hole.
“This will be our initial training ground. We are going to spend some time here, learning how to fire these new weapons. Visors, everyone. Full gear on. Button up!”
They had looked as if they were all bored, slouching and leaning against whatever was handy. But when they heard my barked commands, they snapped into motion. Every single one of them. They had been well- trained.
All their suits were light-reactive, and when I opened up with the new heavy beamer, the autoshades instantly darkened their eye portals. I fired into the edge of the forest, picking a mahogany tree. The thick vines that covered the tree twisted like grass stalks. The bark peeled away like burnt skin and the white flesh of the tree beneath instantly blackened. A moment after that, the entire tree trunk exploded and it sagged over on its side.
I knew most of them had never seen the power of one of my laser rifles. None of them, I was sure, had ever seen the power of one of these new heavy beamers. It was like having a blowtorch in your hands, a blowtorch so powerful tree trunks were like thin, dry weeds before it.
I took off the pack then. I waved them forward.
“As you can see, we can’t allow any friendly-fire accidents. They would be fatal almost instantly. Now, I want a volunteer to put on this pack and try to take out that tree over there,” I said, indicating a tall palm. It looked like an easy target. It was much thinner than the mahogany had been, and closer. All they had to do was blow it down.
“Who’s first?” I asked.
A dozen hands shot up, I pointed to the closest. I noticed that my only non-comm, Sergeant Wilson, kept his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face.
The first man to take up my challenge was a Russian. He reached down to grab the pack. He heaved, but it didn’t budge. He looked surprised.
“Come on, put your back into it, soldier,” I said.
He swallowed, then put himself into the straps in a squatting position. He heaved, legs wobbling. He almost managed to dead-lift it. It was close. He roared and grunted, but couldn’t quite do it. I had to admire his tenacity.
“I can’t do it,” he said, defeated.
“What?”
“I can’t do it, sir!”
“What’s your name, private?”
“Sergey Radovich, sir.”
I nodded. “Are you a weak man, Radovich?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“Hell yeah, sir.”
I nodded again. “Who else here wants to try to put on this pack, stand up and burn down that tree for me?”
A lot of the early volunteers didn’t raise their hands a second time around. They knew a setup when they saw one.
One or two kept their hands raised, however. I pointed to an Asian-looking fellow. He was the biggest Asian I’d ever laid eyes on. He looked like a barrel with legs. He was a sumo wrestler, but without the blubber.
He had amazingly thick thighs, much bigger than my own. He stepped forward and took up the straps. Like Radovich, he positioned himself for a dead-lift. But he did it differently. He rocked forward and balanced the pack on his back. Roaring, he stood under the weight of it, four hundred pounds of metal, glass and polymers.
Legs shaking, he targeted the palm tree and fired. The trunk exploded and the tree went down.
“Very good. What is your name, soldier?” I asked him.
“Kwon, sir,” he said as he eased the pack down.
“Excellent work. Now, we will run back to the parade grounds. I want you all to pace me. This will be a jungle-run. All out. Full speed.”
As I spoke, I lifted the pack and settled it on my back. Their eyes were big as they watched me handle the weight confidently. I pretended not to notice the stares.
I ran then. I ran faster than any normal man had ever run, to my knowledge, across this Earth. None of them could keep up. In fact, I was standing on the parade grounds again, looking bored, when the fastest of them broke out of the jungle and sprinted back into the sunlight.
When they were all assembled in front me again, I asked if there were any questions. A few hands went up. I pointed out Radovich.
“Why the hell we run for no point, sir?” he asked, reasonably enough. His accent had become stronger, I noticed. It must have been due to all the exercise.
I nodded, accepting the question as legitimate. “I wanted you all to understand some things. I am going to ask you to make some fantastic sacrifices. I want you to understand why I’m asking you to make them.”
I told them then-about the injections. I did not pretty it up. I told them they would be screaming for the first hour or so until they blacked out. I told them we couldn’t give them anesthetic. The spooks from the Pentagon had tried it on some chimps, but the nanites had neutralized all foreign chemicals injected into the test subject’s
