Direct Action

Chapters 1 and 2

DIRECT ACTION

By

Arne Lash

 

1

Rapid Deployment Force: Operators Training Course

Fort Bragg, North Carolina

0240 hours

September, 2053

Stoney watched his father through the frigid water and broken ice. His hand reached out for him in panic. He swung his arms and flailed his legs, but he couldn't grab his father's hand. He could barely keep his head above water.

"Stoney, grab my hand," his dad yelled.

The boy reached and kicked with determination, but his slim frame and spent legs were no match for the soaked winter coat that pulled him down. He tried to scream, but only sucked in water. He thrashed around until fear and reality washed over his eleven-year-old mind like a flash flood: he was going to drown. He would never be a soldier like his father, never be the hero his father was, never experience his father's pride; instead, the lasting image he'd have of his larger-than-life dad would be of him screaming to take his hand.

***

Chief Warrant Officer Graham's face blurred as she stood over Stoney; her cadre gray battle uniform dripped water into his face when she yelled his name. "Cadet Clark, can you hear me?" The strong garlic on her breath filled his nostrils as he gasped for air.

"Yes, Instructor Graham." Stoney had tried to shout, but the words wheezed out of him like a dog's chew toy—slow and high-pitched. The dream he had about his father, Major John Clark, pulling him out of the lake on their farm slowly faded.

"Clark...that was the stupidest stunt I've ever seen as an instructor at this school." She snatched up her blue instructors' beret and wrung it out. "Pick up your training blaster and go see the HQ medic. Maybe you'll get lucky and be recycled back to spec-ops on a later date."

She scowled at him and turned to walk away, snapped back around, and said, "Trying to drown yourself in order to get past an opposing team doesn't cut it around here. You were in line for the top spot if you graduated, but you can't keep your goddamn shit together and work with your team. Coming in first doesn't always mean you're a winner." She turned away with finality and walked off.

Stoney sat still, trying to clear his head. It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened, the image of his father fresh in his mind. He jumped to his feet, his combat boots stuck in the red clay of the bank. The standard issue training blaster and comm helmet were on the ground, and he reached down to grab them. He slid on the helmet and shook his head to try and focus his thoughts. The events that landed him in the lake came rushing back.

He had jumped off the cliff purposefully. His team was losing an important battle mission to Captain Brock's Alpha Team. They were looking at second place in this training challenge if they couldn't get around the lake in the middle of the obstacle grounds and intercept the bulk of Brock's unit—The fall into the lake, however, was less purposeful. He had jumped off the cliff at the perimeter of the lake and extended his combat suit's flight wings to cross it, but he didn't have enough speed or altitude, and the carbon-fiber wings collapsed over the middle of the lake. All he could do was watch the altitude display on his face shield as it counted off thirty meters before he hit the water like a flat rock, passing out in the process.

Stoney's helmet display came to life in a bright red hue, pulling him back from the haunting memory of the murky waters. The speakers squawked, "Bravo Team Leader, this is Bravo Two. Do you copy?"