Chapter I
Expectations
Jason ducked around the corner of a bombed out building to evade a volley of gunfire.
He checked his clip; it was almost empty-not good. He could hear his adversaries getting closer.
He
vaulted over a crumbling wall into an alley. He moved quickly but cautiously down the lane with
his rifle to his shoulder, ready to fire.
He came to the end of the alley. A wide, open street lay before him. He heard something
moving, to the left. His muscles tense and ready for action, Jason stepped out of the narrow
street to find
himself face to face with a coyote. The two stood with their rifles pointed at each other for a
moment.
The coyote grinned. "Yer gonna git yerself killed if'n ya ain't careful, ya ol' River
Rat."
"I'm not the only one, Coyote," Jason replied. "I've got some bogies on my tail."
"Well den, let's give ‘em a right wa'm welcome."
The two soldiers took up position on either side of the alley. They listened carefully for
the approaching footsteps of their adversaries. At the right moment, Jason and Bo, the Coyote,
nodded and stepped out into the alley and opened fire. One of the three pursuers to get off one
shot before Jason and Bo's assault stained their uniforms red.
Bo looked at the yellow stain on his left shoulder. "Y'all shot me! Why'd ya have t' go
an' do that?"
"That is point of exercise," said Urie, leader of the "dead" trio. "Besides, is not fatal,
you will not be loosing too many points."
"Yah, but ah needs all the points ah kin git t' keep up wi' ol' River Rat ‘ere."
"Well, you've got two chances left," said Jason. "But they're the ones that really count,
mech qualification."
"Ye-ha, the diff'ence ‘tween the men an' the boys, eh?"
"You can be saying that again."
"Let's get back to camp an' get cleaned up for the awards ceremony."
The five cadets marched back through the streets of the training zone toward their base
camp where the rest of their classmates were already assembled. Also making their way back
were the observers who had watched the exercise from discreet bunkers throughout the zone, but
their destination was not the base camp but the zone command center where they would
compare notes on the cadets' performance and assign scores.
It took longer than the cadets expected to heve their scores prepered so they had time for a
hot
meal before assembly was called. The twelve cadets in Jason's squad stood near the north edge
of the assembly grounds. Two other squads had been using the training zone that day and were
also present at the assembly.
The commandant of the academy stood before the assembled cadets. "I am pleased to
announce," he began, "some of the best scores ever for this exercise, and even a zone record."
Jason's chest swelled at the thought of breaking the record at the toughest training zone at the
academy.
"Our record breaker is cadet Robert Cristove, who eliminated his last opponent in just
over 32 minutes."
"Cristove?" thought Jason. "The vacuum jockey?"
The commandant continued, "This is the first time that a cadet from the aerospace
program has had the top score in this exercise." The assembly cheered Cristove's
accomplishment,
though the ground force cadets cheered less enthusiastically than the rest.
The remainder of the ceremony went as expected, with Jason receiving the top score in his
squad, only three points behind Cristove, and Bo two points behind Jason.
Jason felt badly about losing the high score to a "vacuum jockey", but he didn't let it keep
him down. While Cristove was transferring to an orbital training platform for his mech
qualification, Jason and his squad headed for the Belante Dessert to qualify with the most
advanced mechs ever made. This would be the first class ever to pilot these mechs. They were
untested in battle, but in computer simulations they outperformed tanks in almost every way.
Now all that stood between Jason and commanding the most advanced mech on the battlefield
was two rounds of qualification in the Combat Hovercraft, or CHc.
Jason stood for the first time in the presence of a CHc. It was smaller and sleeker than a
tank and it only required a crew of one instead of two; the army could double the number of
craft on the battlefield without having to train additional pilots. Of course it would be some time
before they could produce enough CHc's to completely phase out the tanks; it might not even
happen before the end of the war, especially if the CHc's lived up to their expectations.
"Cadet Jason Sawyer, report to training course start gate," the PA blared.
Jason put on his helmet and climbed into the CHc. Even though he had never actually
piloted one before, he was familiar with the controls; he had logged close to 100 hours on the
simulator. He powered up the engines and the craft lifted three feet off the ground. The sleek
craft glided gracefully toward the start gate. "CHc good to go," Jason reported when he was in
position.
"Very good, cadet. This exercise will gauge your basic proficiency with the controls. You
will perform tasks as directed by the controller. Failure to do so will cost you points. Any
questions?"
"No sir!"
"Then proceed. Accelerate to maximum speed at which you can maintain
control."
Jason throttled up and shot off across the rough, undulating terrain of the dessert. With
no direct contact with the ground, steering was touchy. A little too much thrust from one of the
retro rockets could cause the craft to spin out of control. Not that Jason had any problem; his
delicate manipulation of the controls kept the craft on a steady heading even at maximum
velocity.
"Cadet, activate your forward gun's targeting system. Maintain your heading."
Jason flipped the switch in the center of the control panel; the heads-up display flashed
to life. As Jason looked left and right, the sensors in his helmet moved the energy cannon
mounted on the front of the craft, targeting whatever Jason looked at. The rat grinned.
"Target the upcoming quarry with the forward gun and destroy them." There were
several machine gun nests and moving infantry dummies which Jason picked off with great
proficiency.
"Very good; now power your main armament. You will target armored units with your
main armament while targeting infantry units with your forward gun."
Jason flipped the switch for the main armament, twin rail guns. The rail guns fired
armor piercing rounds with no recoil so the craft could fire on the fly unlike tanks that had to be
locked down to fire their heavy cannons. And though the rail gun's rate of fire was slightly
slower than the cannons, they were light enough that the CHc could carry two, which allowed
double the rate of fire or a double blast. The main limitation of the rail guns was that they were
fixed forward; the entire craft had to be aimed at the target.
A tank appeared over a rise. Jason fired his rail gun. The shell left the tank a burning
husk. Jason swerved around the tank and another tank appeared, flanked by two machine gun
nests. The rail gun and forward gun fired in unison, destroying the tank and one nest. Jason was
closing on the ruined tank too fast, however; he gunned the engines and shot over the burning
husk. Unfortunately, the forward gun only had a limited range of motion and could not target the
second nest. Jason couldn't turn around without losing time, but he didn't want to miss a
target. Almost without thinking, Jason activated the missile launcher and deployed one missile
to destroy the nest.
The controller directed Jason to use a variety of weapons-the forward gun, the rail gun,
the missile pods, and the tail gun-against an assortment of targets along the remainder of the
course.
Jason managed to maintain control for the rest of the course; not a bad run at all, in his own
opinion.
After his run, Jason watched the rest of his squad's runs. They were good; Bo even
outdid Jason on speed and accuracy. No one else beat Jason's time; of course this wasn't a
speed drill, but speed did get you points.
After everybody had completed the course, the squad assembled in a briefing room. An
officer entered to announce the scores. "Your tallies were all very good; unfortunately, only
those of you with excellent scores will go on to advanced CHc qualification due to the limited
need for CHc officers. I am sorry to announce that the following cadets have not qualified and
will be reporting to the tank qualification range tomorrow: Gerard, Rene; Komnath, Urie;
Sawyer, Jason; and Smith, John. The rest of you will take part in advanced CHc qualification
tomorrow."
Jason shot to his feet, "Sir, why didn't I qualify?"
"You were unable to destroy your targets as directed. Your overall performance was
very good; but, as I explained, we only have a limited number of slots available for CHc
officers," the officer replied. "I am sorry. Hopefully, we will soon be able to upgrade our tank
squadrons to CHc's; but until then, you'll have to settle for a tank."
Jason was crestfallen, but what could he do? He couldn't quit. A tank might not be as
good as a CHc but it was better than nothing. It's just that he had looked forward to piloting a
CHc on the battlefield. Now, if the war went well, it could be over before he had the
chance.
The next day's tank qualifications went like clockwork, but then the tanks were simplistic
compared to the CHc's. Even though you had to check out at two positions, gunner and pilot,
the qualification didn't take any longer than with the CHc.
All that the test consisted of was piloting the tank from point "A" to point "B", locking
down, and firing the cannon. Occasionally there would be a small target for the defensive guns,
but they were too few and far between to make it interesting.
That night the cadets gathered at the pub. It was the first time since finals began that
they had been allowed to drink. Tonight, the night before graduation, would be their last night
of freedom before shipping out for Aldecron.
Jason sat at the bar with a glass of strawberry wine. He normally drank weiss but tonight
he needed something stronger. Urie sat down next to him. "What is being wrong, comrade?"
asked the hamster.
"It shows, huh?" Jason sighed. "It's just that I came here hoping to make a
difference."
"And you cannot be making difference in tank?"
"They've been telling us since the beginning that they were counting on the CHc's to
turn the tide of the war, and I blew my chance to be a part of it."
"My father once said to me, ‘No thing can be making difference, only a man.'"
"Thanks, bud," said Jason and emptied his glass. "Now why don't you really make me
feel better and buy me another drink?"
Graduation came and went. As important an event as it was, it was overshadowed by the
impending trip to Aldecron and the war. Jason was still feeling down that evening, even though
he had graduated at the top of his class. He had been given the rank of captain and command of
a tank squadron. Urie was his second in command and Bo, also a captain, commanded a CHc
squadron. Now Jason stood near a fountain on the academy grounds, waiting for the call to ship
out and watching the sunset.
The commandant was walking past. He stopped next to Jason. "Captain Sawyer," he
said. "You've done a good job, you've made me and the academy proud."
Jason continued to gaze at the setting sun in silence.
"Take a good look," said the commandant. "When the sun rises, it'll be on
Aldecron.
The Aldecron Wars
Art, Poetry, and Fiction