you win or lose. It's how you play the game."
The chuckles around me were quiet, knowing. The squad grinned at me, Raj especially. He wore that cruel grin of his, the one that curled up the left side of his face. It told me he could smell blood in the air. His deep brown eyes, almost black, met mine, and I knew he was ready. I could hear David taking those deep breaths of his, as he focused himself. This sort of thing was practically meditation for him. Kyle was almost bouncing in place, impatient, ready to go. I shook my head at him. He was like a kid waiting for a toy store to open.
Like my three squad-mates, my gear was already checked, re-checked, and ready to go. My goggles were secure, though the built-in heads-up display was shut down. No HUDs today, and no comms either. The goggles were simple eye protection for this run. My rifle was tucked in close, the straps holding it against my chest until I was ready to use it. The grip felt good. It wasn't my usual weapon, but I still knew it well enough. It would do the job, even if it was underpowered.
I knew that instinctively. Our weapons had all been set to low power, well below their optimum ranges, by the instructors here. We weren't supposed to know that, and we weren't supposed to be able to tell by looking at the weapons, but I knew anyway. All four of us did, and though none of us said it, we had exchanged knowing glances as the slug-throwing rifles were issued to us. I could feel it in the rifle's hum and the temperature in the grip, the moment the instructors handed it to me. The rounds they fired wouldn't go far. The instructors wanted us fighting at close range. Fine.
My body armor felt good. The vest, shoulder pads, and arm guards were fastened to me like the second skin I had come to know them as. They could take a hell of a lot more than these rifles could throw at me, but I'd still know I was hit. The rifles we were using weren't our usual plasma rifles. These were slug throwers, the sort of weapon armies stopped using back in the twenty-first century. These rifles might be two hundred years out of date, but they could fire the paint rounds well enough.
My boots were a little too tight. They were new, and pinched at the back of the heel and above the ankle. The laces were fine, and the rubber soles gripped well, but the pinching was annoying. It distracted me, took up more brain time than I wanted. It always took a few days in the field to break in a new pair of boots. I had been wearing them since they were issued, three weeks now, but just wandering around the station wasn't the fastest way to break them in, which was one of the reasons why I agreed to this little dance. We were rusty, mentally as much as anything. Working in my new boots was just a bonus.
There was a new marine reconnaissance squad on the station, and Special Operations Command wanted them tested. There were instructors here for that, but we were here, so why not? Besides, a few hours in the station's training "arena" would be good for us. We were three weeks into an indefinite leave, but Port 25 was as boring as the name implied. We had come out of a long tour of ugly on Alpha Centauri, pulled out way too early for bullshit reasons. We were frustrated, and needed the rest. Still, a United Earth Marine can only sit still for so long. A short dance in the arena was good for the soul.
I leaned in close, the other three doing the same. "Now let's fuck 'em up!" I barked, loud enough for the other squad to hear us all the way down at the other arena door.
My guys roared, a sharp unified sound that practically shook the deck, and more to the point, the other squad. We sounded like a pack of very mean dogs.
I waved at the instructors in the control room, looming high above us on its perch atop the ceiling of the massive arena. From their vantage point they could see the staging area where we stood, and the entire combat training area, just beyond the door in front of us. The walls of the training area weren't very high. What dark corners and covered rooms they could not see directly from their high perch, the installed cameras would catch.
They could control every square inch of the training room, including walls and other obstacles which could be moved about remotely. I had seen training areas like this set up as everything from a swamp, flooded with water and other goo, to a dense urban environment with multi-floored buildings. I had once seen it as a ship's interior, with labyrinthine corridors designed to confuse us, which worked all too well when they shifted the walls around us as we moved. This time in, we were not told what we were walking into, though a dense rat maze was the usual setup for this sort of session. Hence the low-powered rifles. A high-powered shot would really, really hurt if you walked around the corner and found a barrel in your face.
"Captain Mallory, weapons ready." The voice of Colonel Freeman echoed in the massive, domed room. "Weapons free, upon entry. Wait for the signal."
We turned toward the massive metal double doors. They were painted with a large yellow and black hazard sign, reminding us that beyond the doors, predators hunted. Actual details were also listed, like wearing protective eye-wear, body armor, and avoiding entry while the area was in use. All of that blew past me. I had my head in the game, and all I saw was the gateway to my next objective.
"Hey, Jack," one of the instructors, Major Jonas, called out to me as she leaned against the far bulkhead. Her sneer reeked of contempt. "Don't be too rough on them. They're still new and shiny."
I shook my head. "No promises. We don't play gentle."
"Isn't that why you're stuck here to begin with?" she asked with a biting tone.
"Fuck you," I heard David mutter under his breath. Not quite enough, as it turned out.
Major Jonas pushed off the bulkhead, and took a step forward. "Say again?"
"Stack up!" I barked, cutting through the brewing argument.
We lined up at the double doors, two by two. A two-by-two stack allowed us to enter quickly and establish a full cover spread, watching for enemies from four vantage points. We knew our opponents were to our left, but you never could tell what the instructors had waiting for us inside. I took the front left, with David behind me. Kyle was to my right, with Raj behind him. We set our feet in position, one in front of the other, knees bent, ready to push forward at a good pace. We leaned into our rifles, looking down the barrels. I aimed directly at the seam between the doors, as did the others.
I briefly looked to the ready-light over the doors. After a moment, it went from red to green, and the doors slid open so fast, I felt the brief vacuum of it.
"Go go go!" I barked quietly.
We pushed in, our weapons finding their proper fields of fire. Ninety degrees each, allowing a full circle of fire. One step, two steps, down to one knee. I heard the doors shut behind us.
I blinked in surprise at the sight of the arena. No dense rat maze, no swamp, no multi-floored urban environment. It was open ground, with small, waist-high barricades scattered about. The ground was nothing but bare metal deck. The lights were bright, leaving the area free of shadows and ambush points. I could see straight through to the far wall. There was nothing overhead except the reinforced dome that protected us from the vacuum of space. That, and the control room. I could actually see two instructors watching us through binoculars, all the way at the other end of the arena, and high above us.
More to the point, I could see the other squad. Their entry door was one hundred meters downrange, and they had barely moved from it at all. They were looking about, clearly as surprised as we were. They stood there, unsure of what to do.
I looked for the nearest cover. Two barricades, simple gray metal things like those used to block traffic, presented themselves as a likely first step. I didn't even have to point. All four of us
