Nanotroopers Episode 2: Nog School

what happened at the Custer Inn. I showed incredibly bad judgment, unbefitting an officer candidate in Quantum Corps. I should have refrained from my poor remarks and, er…physical response to being provoked by those UNIFORCE--“

  Kraft cut him short. “Okay, Winger, we get it. You’re sorry and all that. What gives you the right to…” Kraft chewed on the end of his vast moustache. “Oh…never mind. We’ve already got statements from the other cadets involved. You know this gives 1st Nano a black eye…it’s not the kind of image we want the public to have of our atomgrabbers.”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

  Starnes pressed a button on his wristpad. A vid of the whole altercation was quickly projected on the table…a miniature 3-D scrum from beginning to end. Kraft stifled a smile while Starnes glared grimly back at Winger. “We have the whole thing right here…the bartender made a vid and we got a copy. From what I can see, you and your people pretty much started the whole thing.”

  “But, sir--,” Winger complained, “those UNIFORCE goons…er, sorry, sir…troopers…made disparaging comments about the cadets, even about the Corps. They were EuroMed…not atomgrabbers at all. I felt, sir—“ here, Winger looked down, “—I felt that I should take the opportunity to stand up for our platoon, our Corps and its hardworking cadets. Sir.”

  Kraft couldn’t contain a low chuckle. “Winger, you sound like a recruiting vid. We know from Captain Starnes’ vid here exactly what was said and by whom. In my book, both sides have a lot to answer for.”

  “Sir, will I be charged here? Am I facing a court-martial? I really wanted to make the Corps a career…sir, to have it cut short after an incident like this…well, sir…it would be embarrassing. It would be terrible….”

  Kraft nodded. “I see…next, I suppose you’ll tell me you just how well you’ve learned your lesson…and how this will never happen again and how you have the highest regard for fellow troopers in UNIFORCE and would never question their loyalty, their courage or professionalism…all of which you did last night….and at quite a high volume, I might add.” To emphasize the point, Starnes upped the volume on the projection and the little holographic troopers screamed epithets at each other across the holographic table.

  “Oh, yes, sir…absolutely, sir. That was exactly what I was going to say, sir.” Winger looked up and saw Kraft glaring back at him.

  “Cadet Winger, your involvement in this incident is regrettable. You have not conducted yourself in a manner consistent with the ideals of Quantum Corps, and by your actions, you’ve brought disgust, scorn, ridicule and contempt on me, your fellow troopers, this facility and the Corps in general. Not to mention several thousand dollars in damages to the Custer Inn bar and surroundings…reparations for which will be deducted from your bare salary starting immediately. Ten demerits for unacceptable behavior are assigned and you are hereby restricted to base and to quarters for a month, outside of attending necessary classes, labs and authorized functions as directed by me personally. Do you have anything you want to say?”

  Winger was watching Captain Starnes, who clearly had greater punishments in mind. The JAG officer started to turn to Kraft, but the Major held up a hand. “I know what the charges are, Captain. I’m exercising my authority as battalion commander to reduce the charges. The original charge was felonious assault on a fellow soldier. I’ve set the charges at disorderly conduct, a lesser charge. You will spend three more days in the stockade and then the conditions I laid out will apply: restricted to base and quarters for a month. Is there anything else you want to add to these proceedings, Cadet Winger?”

  Winger could hardly believe his ears. Reduced charges. He wasn’t going to be kicked off the mountain after all…no long bike ride back to the ranch. Winger contained the barest hint of a smile and refrained from leaning over to shake Kraft’s hands…or hug the Major. That would have been a bad move.

  Starnes started to say something, but Kraft beat him to it. “Captain, thanks for your services this morning. If you will put your signature on the charges and the sentencing forms, we can end this hearing and all get back to work . I’ve got a cadet corps to get up to speed. Dismissed!”

  Starnes sat still for a second, a response on his lips, then thought better of it. You didn’t question Ironpants Kraft when his mind was made up. And you knew his mind was made up when the Black Forest moustache stood out ramrod straight at both ends.

  The JAG officer cut off the projection, and gathered up his disks and papers. He saluted Kraft smartly.

  “Major—“

  Then Starnes spun on his heels and made tracks, exiting the hearing room in a flutter.

  Kraft turned back to Winger.

  “Sir, I don’t know how to thank you…I mean, sir…it’s just that…well, sir, it won’t happen again…I’ve learned my lesson. I want to make the Corps a career…I realize—“

  Kraft held up a hand. “Cadet Winger, save it, okay… that will be all. Report back to the stockade immediately. You’ve still got three days incarceration to serve.”

  Winger saluted the smartest salute he could. He was about to about-face and march himself out of the hearing room, but Kraft had more.

  “Son, the reason I overruled Captain Starnes and the JAG recommendations is real simple.”

  “Yes, sir—“

  “That brawl you and your cronies got into last night showed me something about you, something important.”

  “Sir?”

  Kraft steepled his hands on top of the table. “That incident showed me you really do have some ‘fight’ inside of you…that was something I needed to know. Maybe not in this exact way, but it served a greater purpose. Cadet Winger, serve your time and get on with your training. Now I know you’re not just another loopy geek with soft muscles and a soft head.” Kraft lowered his voice. “We need fighters in 1st Nano. Atomgrabbers, certainly. But I want a fighter first. You showed me that, son.”

  Winger didn’t know whether to kiss the Major or shake his hand. He settled for another snappy salute.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Johnny Winger marched himself off to the stockade.

  “The Swarm Chamber”

  Table Top Mountain

  September 23, 2048

  7:00 a.m.

  “Gentlemen, welcome to the Swarm Chamber.” Lieutenant Heydrick opened the hatch to a cave-like compartment built almost like a submarine hull.

  Deeno D’Nunzio, Johnny Winger and Moby M’bela filed in, a little reluctantly. All were clad only in standard-issue cadet fatigues and tunics. Heydrick pointed to a narrow bench along one side.

  “Sit there. Keep some space between yourselves too. We want the bugs to get a good bite out of each of you.”

  D’Nunzio said, “Are we really getting swarmed in here? Live bots. The whole works.’

  Heydrick had a malevolent grin. “The whole works, cadet. Everything you’ve heard about this little house of horrors is true. And it’s even worse than that.”

  Winger made himself comfortable. “I’ve heard we’re supposed to really feel what it’s like to be swarmed.”

  Heydrick said, “You heard correctly. Paratroopers practice their craft by jumping out of airplanes. Navy divers practice their jobs by getting wet and going underwater. Atomgrabbers work with tiny bots. Lots of bots. The purpose of this little exercise is to make sure you understand what you’re dealing with…by going into the very mouth of the beast. By getting slammed with a full-bore big bang…that’s what we call maximum-rate replication. Only when you know how that feels and looks will you really appreciate what you’re doing.”

  Swell, Winger thought to himself. Just swell.

  Heydrick went to each trooper and examined each one in the face, checking that they’re weren’t sick, sporting some kind of infection, fully alert and awake and understood what they were about to experience. He asked basic questions: what’s you
r name, where are you from, how many fingers am I holding up, where are you now?

  Anybody who answered wrong would be immediately disqualified from the Swarm Chamber and washed out of nog school.

  Winger and the others had heard all the horror stories about the exercise. “It’s like being stung by a gazillion bees.” “It’s like being smothered in your aunt’s favorite blanket, the one she left in the attic for twenty years.” “It’s like falling into a scalding vat of acid naked.” Or Winger’s favorite: “It’s like running through a line of tornadoes with sacks of nails flying right into your face.”

  Every trooper dreaded the Swarm Chamber. The stories were legend. They got more colorful and more graphic and more grotesque every year. It was like when you were five and loved to see the bloodiest, goriest horror slasher movie your parents would let you. Maybe worse than that.

  Heydrick checked some instruments on a small panel near the door. He spoke quietly into a lapel mic. “Subjects in the green. All parameters normal. O2 levels nominal. “

  Someone’s voice crackled over his earbud and Winger thought he heard the words beam injectors. He looked up, studied the ceiling of the chamber. Yep. There they were. Electron beam injectors, dozens of them. Their projectors looked like the business end of a magpulse carbine, black snouts, focusing rings, magnetic coils around the end.

  Winger knew what those were. If anything went