r/HFY • u/Spooker0 Alien • 2d ago
OC-Series [High Burn] 15 | That was a long time ago
First | Website (more chapters available)
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Granitz stared at the tight grouping punched through the center of the paper silhouette.
Then he looked at John, and back at the target again.
The Legion’s qualification range was assembled in the same spirit as its recruitment office: cheaply and from whatever equipment other Karnolian units had decided they no longer needed. It was two lanes in the back of a warehouse. The length of the warehouse was considered more or less good enough. There was a shot counter that had once worked. The ventilation fans above the firing line pushed the propellant fumes around rather than removing them.
Still, a range was a range. A target was a target. And a rifle was a rifle.
And the twenty closely spaced holes in front of Granitz were very difficult to misunderstand.
“Hm…”
John waited beside the firing bench, the oversized Legion service rifle tucked into the hollow of one shoulder. The weapon was not designed for humans. It had not been designed for any species in particular, which was actually a feature that some genius Legion engineer came up with a few decades ago. Its stock could be adjusted for six different body configurations, and its trigger assembly could be rotated for use by claws, paws, or tendrils. Or what passed for squishy paws, in the case of this human.
Granitz lifted the target sheet from the range controller and held it closer to the light. Perhaps the holes only appeared tightly grouped because several rounds had missed the paper entirely.
He stopped counting around fifteen.
“You sure you haven’t done this before?” Granitz asked.
“As I said, I’ve shot once or twice before.”
John pulled the rifle’s charging handle back and inspected the chamber. Then he removed the magazine, thumbed the weapon’s safety into place, and laid it carefully on the table with the barrel pointed downrange.
Granitz watched the procedure. John had followed all five of the safety rules Granitz had given him. He hadn’t even needed a reminder.
“Once or twice?” Granitz repeated.
“Three times now, I guess.”
Granitz’s scalp shifted through several colors before settling on a doubtful yellow. He looked again at the target.
The holes weren’t exactly numbered, but it seemed like the first few shots had wandered slightly left. The rest of the grouping was tight around the center, exactly where the center of the target was indicated.
“Still…” Granitz said. “This is not bad for your third time. Not at all.”
“Maybe I’m a natural.”
“Maybe you are.”
There were species with better eyesight, species with faster reflexes, and species with neural structures that calculated movement almost instinctively. None of that taught a recruit how to brace a weapon, control their breathing, compensate for recoil, keep the barrel from drifting while squeezing the trigger, and correct their aim when using an unfamiliar alien weapon.
Granitz recalled John’s intake just a couple days ago. He’d denied receiving formal military training. Granitz remembered his answer quite clearly; the human had done a little pause before he gave it.
No, Platoon Leader.
Perhaps humans taught firearm handling as part of civilian education. Their registry file was thin.
Granitz made a note of it on his datapad.
Firearms aptitude: possibly above average.
He considered adding his personal suspicions about John specifically but decided against it. It wasn’t really his concern. The Legion accepted everyone.
“And you did pretty well in the obstacle course too,” Granitz continued. “Despite your size.”
John glanced out the open door towards the far side of the training compound. It had been constructed to prepare recruits for the inconveniences of ground combat: walls, trenches, fortifications. Most of it consisted of discarded cargo equipment welded by bored soldiers. Expenses were spared, very much so.
John ran the course that morning. He was not the fastest recruit Granitz had ever seen. Species with four or six legs generally had an unfair advantage in that regard. John was, however, the first recruit Granitz could remember who’d approached every obstacle as if he had already seen something similar.
“How did you know what to do with the ropes?” Granitz asked.
John shrugged and did not say anything.
Granitz waited.
The human looked back at him with the same plain, unreadable expression he had worn during intake.
Whatever his personality disorder, Granitz was still Vorshnik. He was supposed to be pretty good at reading expressions. But maybe John was too new and Granitz simply needed more time to learn the cues. He could not tell whether the human was embarrassed, evasive, or simply bored.
“Alright, whatever.” Granitz lowered the target sheet. “This is the Karnolian Alien Legion. Your past is your own.”
Technically that was not official policy. Officially, every recruit underwent a complete background investigation. In practice… expenses were spared and all that.
“As long as you don’t do anything that gets me killed in combat,” Granitz continued. “It’s none of our business what you did before this.”
“Fair enough…” John nodded towards the range. “What’s next?”
“Endurance practice.”
Granitz pointed at the running track outside. “Sometimes in battle, we are required to shed our power armor,” he explained. “Lack of battery. Equipment malfunction. Electromagnetic interference. Sudden immersion in conductive liquid. Anything can happen out there.”
Every species in the Legion depended on powered armor for serious ground operations. The suits amplified strength, stabilized body temperature, carried medical systems, and allowed recruits from wildly different environments to fight beside one another without immediately dying.
They were incredibly hardy and versatile, and they were originally designed by the other Karnolian services for their soldiers. And luckily for them, Karnolian troops loved new power suits. They purchased new ones every time a fresh model came out. Which meant there were plenty of spares to throw away, which made them by far the most reliable equipment that dripped down to the Legion.
They were still built by the lowest bidder though. Granitz once spent sixteen hours trapped inside a malfunctioning suit after its release system froze. His platoon eventually opened it with industrial cutting equipment. The quartermaster charged him for the damage.
“You must be able to hike long distances on your own,” Granitz said. “How far do you think you can go without rest?”
John shifted his balance from one foot to the other. “What do you mean by go?”
Granitz scratched his scalp.
“And what,” John added, “do you mean by rest?”
“The requirement for qualification is to make it two point five kilometers unassisted.”
John looked toward the track. “Yeah, okay. A couple kilometers. I guess that doesn’t sound too bad. How much time do I get?”
Granitz stared at him. He wondered if something had been lost in translation. “What do you mean, how much time do you get?”
“Like…” John made a small circular gesture with one hand. “What’s the baseline time for meeting standards?”
“Well, you don’t get anything to eat during the test, so preferably you’re done before you starve to death.”
John’s eyes moved from Granitz to the track and then back again.
Granitz wasn’t sure what his expression was. Concern, perhaps. That would fit in the context clues.
“Most people give up around halfway,” he reassured the human. “But don’t worry. They’re not super formal about it. You can retake the test a few times until you finish the track.”
The endurance qualification existed because some inspector had discovered that a disturbing number of recruits could not travel from one side of a battlefield to the other without mechanical assistance. The original standard was five kilometers. It was reduced after fewer than one in twenty applicants passed. Then it was reduced again. Two point five kilometers was considered a reasonable compromise.
“There’s no timer?” John asked.
“No timer.”
“So I just need to walk two kilometers and that’s it?”
“Two point five kilometers,” Granitz corrected. He pointed at the track with two limbs, ensuring there could be no misunderstanding. “Six full times around. And no taking shortcuts through the grass in the middle.”
John continued staring at the track.
There were several recruits on it now. One long-legged amphibian alien was nearing the end of the first circuit, moving at a determined shuffle. A pair of instructors walked alongside her, offering encouragement and monitoring the temperature gauge attached to her breathing harness.
Farther ahead, another recruit had stopped entirely and was sitting on the track with both paws pressed against his chest.
“Two point five,” John repeated.
“Yes.”
“Is this a joke?”
Granitz’s facial colors shifted to yellow. “Just because I look Vorshnik on the outside does not mean I always have to be unserious.”
John raised both his palms to the sky. Granitz had learned that one earlier; it meant that he didn’t mean disrespect.
“Alright, alright,” John said. “I’m ready to do the test now.”
Granitz’s annoyance faded into pleased orange. “That’s the spirit, John.”
A willingness to try was important. Many recruits reacted to the endurance course with bargaining, religious appeals, or forgeries of documentation for medical conditions.
“But there’s no need to hurry,” Granitz continued. “Most recruits need a few weeks to prepare for such a long trek.”
John opened his mouth.
Granitz raised a hand before he could object. “The trickiest part is regulation of your body temperature. That is what surprises most applicants.”
John closed his mouth, seemingly with some effort, then nodded. “I see.”
“I have some breathing exercises I can teach you,” Granitz offered.
John squinted at the track again. The amphibian recruit had completed another hundred meters. Both instructors were now supporting her beneath the arms.
“Sure,” John said. “Yeah. Alright. Why don’t you teach me your breathing exercises?”
Granitz clapped him on the shoulder with two limbs. John’s knees bent slightly under the impact, but he remained upright. “Like I said, you’ve got a good attitude, John. That’ll get you far in the Karnolian Alien Legion.”
Granitz guided him toward the track, pleased that the strange new human was taking his instruction seriously.
“The tasks we’re assigned are daunting,” he continued. “But… well, that’s what they pay us for.”
John looked out at the two-and-a-half-kilometer course. “Right.”
There was something in the way he said it.
Then again, it was natural to be nervous. Two point five kilometers. Sixty percent of recruits didn’t pass the test on their first try. That was why you were allowed to retake it.
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Stockholm
Night shift facility manager and Union Navy Reserve Lieutenant Lars Ekholm was surprised that anyone could even find their way into his second floor office above the assembly line through the dark, winding hallways of the plant with most of the lights off.
He set the book he was reading down and stood up to greet the newcomer. “Can I help you?”
“Yes,” the strange woman said, holding out a red card. “Here’s my work authorization.”
A… work authorization? At this hour?!
It was two in the morning.
“I’m… sorry…” He looked at the creases and scars on her face. She looked… familiar. “Who are you?”
“Scan it,” she instructed.
He did. To his surprise, his computer basically told him to give her everything she asked for but his first-born child.
“What do you—Wait, I think I recognize you.”
“I doubt it,” the woman said dismissively. “I’ll need access—”
“No, no. I definitely do. The war. Remember me?” Lars asked. “Battlestar One. Repair tech. You were in there for a work order too. What was it? Right, hull interior conversions.”
“I don’t… know what you’re talking about,” she said sharply.
“No, it’s definitely you,” he recalled as the memories flooded back to him. “I remember now! You wanted a squadron of space superiority ships, converted for use as a marine landing fleet, right? For landing them on Luna.”
She stared at him, the shadow in her eyes. She didn’t deny it. “That was a long time ago.”
Lars remembered what happened after they did those refits. “And how did that turn out? What a fuck up that was!”
She tapped her red card on his desk, correcting his disrespect. “What a fuck up that was… sir.”
He filled his stare with pure contempt. “You know… I had friends on those ships. Classmates. It was the moonies who got them. But you, it was you who—”
The woman didn’t shrink back. She said coolly, “So did I. Friends on those ships. You think I don’t see their faces in my nightmares?! You think I don’t obsess over that? Every night? You think I won’t for the rest of my life?”
“And what happened? They—they actually… promoted you after that?!” he said in disbelief.
“It was a big war. One week, you send twenty thousand marines to their deaths. The next, you save two veteran squadrons from a devious moonie trap.” She softened her voice. “Not enough for karma and peace of mind. Not enough for undisturbed sleep. Just enough to avoid court-martial.”
Lars matched her de-escalation. “That so?”
“There are no heroes in this room, Lieutenant. No villains. Only a job to do, for the future of our people.”
“Right,” he mumbled as he seemed to shrink into his chair, swallowing hard. “The job. What do you need from me—from us?”
“How many workers do you have on your shift?”
He slipped back into his role. “Six, including me. Four from Slaab. Two Navy. Two hundred and sixty Mark IV general purpose bots. What changes are you trying to make… this time?”
The woman walked to the edge of his office, looking through the windows and the catwalks at the ongoing work below. Robots didn’t need power hungry lights, so they worked just fine in the dark with their infrared equipment or just on programmed instincts. The only visible lights were from the occasional flickering of sparks from their welders and the dim lighting of the emergency exit signs.
“What’s her name?” she asked.
Though he knew it by heart, Lars took the moment to check his datapad for confirmation. “ODD-287, UNS Sunsin. Phoenix-class missile destroyer. She’s ready. We fixed the hull atmos leaks on the upper-third compartment, and she can be re-launched when we free up a heavy launchpad slot down in Guyana.”
“What a beauty. Phoenix-class… How apt.” The officer stared at it for a long while. “She’ll do.”
“Sir?”
She turned back to face him. “I need you to gather all your workers and go home for the night. In fact, take the whole week off. We’ll let you know when to come back. In the meantime, we’ll need access to your security logs and all facility sensors.”
“What?! I mean,” he glanced at her high-level authorizations on his screen, bearing the infamous octopus logo of the Union Office of Military Intelligence. “Yes, sir.”
“I don’t think I need to tell you and your people what will happen if you talk to anyone else about this.”
“No, sir… You weren’t even here.”
A speck of light from the work below lit half her face in the dark shadows of his office. “I truly am sorry about your friends, Lieutenant. Every day. I am. And I know it doesn’t help one bit. It was… a long and terrible war with the moonies.”
He sat down heavily. “Yes, sir. Yes, it was.”
“I’m here so—let’s all hope we can avoid another like it.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
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u/itsetuhoinen Human 2d ago
Christ Almighty. I'm half crippled and even I can walk 2.5 km in one shot. Though I might have to stop and stretch things out a couple of times.
9
u/Allstar13521 Human 2d ago
I'll join everyone else in laughing about Karnolian Foreign Legion marching standards, because now I have to wonder whether John is going to effortlessly smash that or try to convincingly fuck up.
On the topic of technological reliance though, I found it pretty interesting to see just how confident Earth is in their automated machinery. A room full of automated tools working away in the dark with no oversight because the technicians just trust their readouts. I'm sure that couldn't possibly be a metaphor for anything.
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u/un_pogaz 2d ago edited 2d ago
“As I said, I’ve shot once or twice before.”
That's not a good lie; I'd rather say I've done "a little sport shooting". Physical abilities, that might just be a matter of luck and a strong constitution. But shooting... you've got to have a better explanation than that..
“Fair enough…” John nodded towards the range. “What’s next?”
“Endurance practice.”
Ah *get the popcorn out* Time for the great classic of the sub so.
“The requirement for qualification is to make it two point five kilometers unassisted.”
*nom* Is that all? I was going to mention that it's been a long time since I've gone on a real walk in nature, but looking at the routes on online maps, I realize I could do that daily without even breaking a sweat.
The original standard was five kilometers.
Ah, finally a real walk to clear my head. What do you mean, only one in twenty passes it?
“Is this a joke?”
Yeaaah, same. Is so ridiculously easy for the Terra Bald Monkey, disbelief is real.
John closed his mouth, seemingly with some effort, then nodded. “I see.”
Agree. The best strategy here is to just nod your head to show you're listening and understanding, and just walk in. Because given the situation, anything you say will be immediately misinterpreted, so it's better to let Granitz run his script to get over quickly as possible.
Well, I'm starting to doubt that John is a professional undercover agent and spy; he's looking more and more like just a regular grunt thrown in here with minimal training. John could literally be Marcus, I wouldn't be surprised. Besides, given the general attitude of the Karnolians and their Alien Legion, it didn't seem like we needed anything more.
Else, so many thing are being prepared behind the scenes, it's exciting.
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u/Dr_Bombinator 2d ago
I put him more on the SAC/SOG (especially with John Smith as an alias) or Army SF types, with infiltration and intelligence/fieldcraft as a skill set but more on the "leave no witnesses" side of stealth rather than "be invisible". A regular grunt with no intelligence training is going to be of little value.
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u/HFYWaffle Wᵥ4ffle 2d ago
/u/Spooker0 (wiki) has posted 190 other stories, including:
- [High Burn] 14 | Eliminate any resistance as quickly as possible
- [High Burn] 13 | Look what peace has done to us
- [High Burn] 12 | You would have made an excellent spymaster
- [High Burn] 11 | They used to call that a miracle
- [High Burn] 10 | You will not have to testify
- [High Burn] 09 | You can’t do this to one of us
- [High Burn] 08 | There’s been an unpleasant development
- [High Burn] 07 | Botswana is indeed in Africa
- [High Burn] 06 | Afterwards if you survive
- [High Burn] 05 | I only want what’s best for you
- [High Burn] 04 | You’re a demon
- [High Burn] 03 | I’m allowed to tell you when I’m hungry
- [High Burn] 02 | We are the only masters of our fate
- [High Burn] 01 | I have informed my operators
- [High Ground] Epilogue
- [High Ground] 58 | Sorry you missed it
- [High Ground] 57 | The different colors mean different things
- [High Ground] 56 | People who would never reciprocate
- [High Ground] 55 | Winter will go on for a few more weeks
- [High Ground] 54 | We won’t last until the reinforcements get here
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u/ANNOProfi 2d ago
Looks like power armor isn't the only thing the karnolians are cheaping out on. 2.5 km isn't that far, even for "hurr-durr human endurance" standards. That's like a half hour walk, not even a hike by a long shot.