[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"Recruit Corporal Sten. That man is your most dangerous enemy. Your mission is to close with and
destroy him!"
Sten ambled in. Held up his hands in what he hoped would look like an offensive move and went
airborne. Sten rolled hi midair, recovered, and held back as his feet touched. Allowed himself to crumple
forward, face first in the sand.
That should do it. And he heard Lanzotta's whisper in his ear.
"You are faking it, recruit corporal. You know how to do it better. Now I want you to get back up,
without letting your fellow skinks know what you're doing, and attack Corporal Halstead."
Sten didn't move.
"The alternative is three days on garbage detail."
Sten sighed and picked himself up.
Halstead moved in, hands grabbing. Poor, Sten flashed, and rolled toward the ground. Legs in the air,
scissored about Halstead's hips.
Halstead crashed, Sten locked, using Halstead's momentum to bring him back up. Halstead rolling up,
Sten incoming, shoulder under Halstead's waist.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Halstead went straight up hi a curving flight. Sten had time enough to consider if he'd put a cadre into
sub-orbital, then he was moving. Halstead slammed back down, still moving, and Sten slammed two toe
kicks into his ribs.
Halstead stayed down.
Sten recovered and turned.
There was awed silence from the trainees. Sten looked at Lanzotta, who heaved a sigh and jerked a
thumb.
"Hup; sergeant!"
Sten picked up his cap and double-tuned toward the messhall.
There it was. Spaced if you did, spaced if you didn't. Sten grabbed the other garbage can and lugged
them back into the messhall.
The mess sergeant grinned at Sten as he came through the tiny office.
"Guess you're glad to be goin' back to trainin' tomorrow, hey?"
Sten shook his head.
"Ya like it here?"
"Negatory, sergeant."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"What's the problem, 'cruit?"
"Tomorrow we start knife training, sergeant."
"So?"
Yeah. So. Sten suddenly started laughing as he dragged the cans back toward their racks. So? It was
still better than Vulcan.
Even Sten felt a little sick as the medic worked swiftly on the gaping wounds. The body was riddled with
shrapnel and gouting blood.
"The procedure hasn't changed in thousands of years," the medic instructor said. "First get the casualty
breathing again. Second, stop the bleeding. Third, treat for shock."
He finished, covered the humanoid simulacrum with an insuWjlanket, and stood up. Looked around the
class.
"Then you yell as loud as you can for a medic. Assuming some bork hasn't decided we're the most
important target he can hit and there's any of us left."
"What then?" Pech, the fat recruit, asked.
"If there's no professional treatment, use your belt medpak. If the bleeding's stopped and the insides are
more or less together, the antis in the kit should keep your buddy from getting the creeping crud."
He laughed.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
" 'Course if you're on some world where we don't know anything about the bugs, best you can do is try
to leave a good-looking corpse." The medic looked over Pech's steadily diminishing chubbiness. "Which
will be hard enough in your case, Pech."
Sten and the others chuckled. The medic was the first instructor they'd had who'd treated them even
vaguely like sentient beings.
The medic opened a large cabinet and motioned to Sten, who helped him lift out another simulacrum.
This one was dressed in a battle suit.
"In a suit, things are different," the medic said. "The medpak should already be hooked up inside the suit
and work automatically. Sometimes it does." Another snort of laughter from the medic.
"But if the suit's holed, all you can do is seal it and get the casualty to a medshelter. You get more on that
hi suit drill. Now, I need a sucker I mean a volunteer."
He glanced around the audience, and his eyes lit on Pech. "Come on up, troop."
Pech double-timed up to the stand and waited at attention. "Relax, relax. You make me nervous. Okay.
This dummy here is your best buddy. You went through training together. You chased . . ." He pretended
to study Pech closely. ". . . uh ameboids together. Now his arm has just been blown off. What are you
going to do?"
The medic stepped back. Pech shifted nervously.
"Come on, soldier. Your best friend's bleeding to death. Move!"
Pech took a tentative step forward as the medic pressed the switch concealed in his palm and the
simulacrum's arm exploded. "Blood" sprayed across Pech and the stand.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Pech froze. "Come on, man. Move."
Pech fumbled for the medpak on his belt and moved closer. More pulsing "blood" dyed his face. Pech
un-clipped the pak's base and took a pressure bandage off.
"Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven . . . forget it, soldier."
Pech seemed not to hear him and fought to get the bandage hi position. Finally, the gout of "blood"
stopped.
"Your friend just died," the medic said harshly. "Now, on your feet"
Pech clambered up, numb. The medic stared around at the trainees to make sure they got his point.
Then he turned back to Pech.
"The dye used in that blood won't wear off for two days. Maybe that'll help you think about how you'd
feel if that dummy had really been your teammate."
Pech never did recover from the incident. A few weeks later, after a series of foul-ups, he disappeared.
Washed out.
Sten blinked as the world came back into focus. He and the five other recruits stared at each other
blankly. Halstead flipped up the flash visor on his shock helmet.
"How long were you out?" he asked.
Sten shrugged. "A second or two, corporal?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Halstead held out his watch finger. Two hours had passed. He undipped another of the tiny bester
grenades from his pocket.
"Instant time loss. You don't know what's happened to you, and you don't think anything's gone wrong.
These are some of the most effective infiltration weapons you'll use.
"The company's out on the dexterity courser Report to Corporal Carruthers."
Sten saluted and the recruits ran off.
Sten couldn't get the man out of his mind. There had been nothing unusual about the incident, but for [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl chiara76.opx.pl
"Recruit Corporal Sten. That man is your most dangerous enemy. Your mission is to close with and
destroy him!"
Sten ambled in. Held up his hands in what he hoped would look like an offensive move and went
airborne. Sten rolled hi midair, recovered, and held back as his feet touched. Allowed himself to crumple
forward, face first in the sand.
That should do it. And he heard Lanzotta's whisper in his ear.
"You are faking it, recruit corporal. You know how to do it better. Now I want you to get back up,
without letting your fellow skinks know what you're doing, and attack Corporal Halstead."
Sten didn't move.
"The alternative is three days on garbage detail."
Sten sighed and picked himself up.
Halstead moved in, hands grabbing. Poor, Sten flashed, and rolled toward the ground. Legs in the air,
scissored about Halstead's hips.
Halstead crashed, Sten locked, using Halstead's momentum to bring him back up. Halstead rolling up,
Sten incoming, shoulder under Halstead's waist.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Halstead went straight up hi a curving flight. Sten had time enough to consider if he'd put a cadre into
sub-orbital, then he was moving. Halstead slammed back down, still moving, and Sten slammed two toe
kicks into his ribs.
Halstead stayed down.
Sten recovered and turned.
There was awed silence from the trainees. Sten looked at Lanzotta, who heaved a sigh and jerked a
thumb.
"Hup; sergeant!"
Sten picked up his cap and double-tuned toward the messhall.
There it was. Spaced if you did, spaced if you didn't. Sten grabbed the other garbage can and lugged
them back into the messhall.
The mess sergeant grinned at Sten as he came through the tiny office.
"Guess you're glad to be goin' back to trainin' tomorrow, hey?"
Sten shook his head.
"Ya like it here?"
"Negatory, sergeant."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"What's the problem, 'cruit?"
"Tomorrow we start knife training, sergeant."
"So?"
Yeah. So. Sten suddenly started laughing as he dragged the cans back toward their racks. So? It was
still better than Vulcan.
Even Sten felt a little sick as the medic worked swiftly on the gaping wounds. The body was riddled with
shrapnel and gouting blood.
"The procedure hasn't changed in thousands of years," the medic instructor said. "First get the casualty
breathing again. Second, stop the bleeding. Third, treat for shock."
He finished, covered the humanoid simulacrum with an insuWjlanket, and stood up. Looked around the
class.
"Then you yell as loud as you can for a medic. Assuming some bork hasn't decided we're the most
important target he can hit and there's any of us left."
"What then?" Pech, the fat recruit, asked.
"If there's no professional treatment, use your belt medpak. If the bleeding's stopped and the insides are
more or less together, the antis in the kit should keep your buddy from getting the creeping crud."
He laughed.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
" 'Course if you're on some world where we don't know anything about the bugs, best you can do is try
to leave a good-looking corpse." The medic looked over Pech's steadily diminishing chubbiness. "Which
will be hard enough in your case, Pech."
Sten and the others chuckled. The medic was the first instructor they'd had who'd treated them even
vaguely like sentient beings.
The medic opened a large cabinet and motioned to Sten, who helped him lift out another simulacrum.
This one was dressed in a battle suit.
"In a suit, things are different," the medic said. "The medpak should already be hooked up inside the suit
and work automatically. Sometimes it does." Another snort of laughter from the medic.
"But if the suit's holed, all you can do is seal it and get the casualty to a medshelter. You get more on that
hi suit drill. Now, I need a sucker I mean a volunteer."
He glanced around the audience, and his eyes lit on Pech. "Come on up, troop."
Pech double-timed up to the stand and waited at attention. "Relax, relax. You make me nervous. Okay.
This dummy here is your best buddy. You went through training together. You chased . . ." He pretended
to study Pech closely. ". . . uh ameboids together. Now his arm has just been blown off. What are you
going to do?"
The medic stepped back. Pech shifted nervously.
"Come on, soldier. Your best friend's bleeding to death. Move!"
Pech took a tentative step forward as the medic pressed the switch concealed in his palm and the
simulacrum's arm exploded. "Blood" sprayed across Pech and the stand.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Pech froze. "Come on, man. Move."
Pech fumbled for the medpak on his belt and moved closer. More pulsing "blood" dyed his face. Pech
un-clipped the pak's base and took a pressure bandage off.
"Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven . . . forget it, soldier."
Pech seemed not to hear him and fought to get the bandage hi position. Finally, the gout of "blood"
stopped.
"Your friend just died," the medic said harshly. "Now, on your feet"
Pech clambered up, numb. The medic stared around at the trainees to make sure they got his point.
Then he turned back to Pech.
"The dye used in that blood won't wear off for two days. Maybe that'll help you think about how you'd
feel if that dummy had really been your teammate."
Pech never did recover from the incident. A few weeks later, after a series of foul-ups, he disappeared.
Washed out.
Sten blinked as the world came back into focus. He and the five other recruits stared at each other
blankly. Halstead flipped up the flash visor on his shock helmet.
"How long were you out?" he asked.
Sten shrugged. "A second or two, corporal?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Halstead held out his watch finger. Two hours had passed. He undipped another of the tiny bester
grenades from his pocket.
"Instant time loss. You don't know what's happened to you, and you don't think anything's gone wrong.
These are some of the most effective infiltration weapons you'll use.
"The company's out on the dexterity courser Report to Corporal Carruthers."
Sten saluted and the recruits ran off.
Sten couldn't get the man out of his mind. There had been nothing unusual about the incident, but for [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]