Sergeant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 2) by Jonathan P. Brazee Read Free Book Online Page A

know.”
    Ryck was surprised that MacPruit singled him out. He wondered what game the sergeant was playing. Yes, Ryck’s PICS had been disabled, and yes, Ryck had continued the fight, but not as some kung fu master. He’d just figured out how to engage his weapons without the PICS’ interface.
    “So let’s get goin’. First, let’s do some warm-ups. I wanna see where you all are. Give yourself a little room,” MacPruit told them before leading them in some basic forms.
    He wandered through class as he barked out commands, stopping to critique a few Marines. Ryck wanted to puke when MacPruit complemented the lieutenant on his form. As MacPruit moved on, the look on the lieutenant’s face led Ryck to believe that the platoon commander had not been taken in by the brown-nosing.
    “OK, Marines, OK,” MacPruit shouted out. “Good job. But that’s the boring part, am I right? You want combat, am I right? We’ll get to that now, but first, I’m gonna demo it. I need a partner for that. Who’s it gonna be?”
    Ryck felt his heart sink. He thought he knew where this was leading. He was right.
    “How about Sergeant Lysander? Me and him go back a long way, an’ let me tell you, he’s one tough hombre. An’ he’s already got combat experience without a PICS, without his skins and bones. Am I right?”
    There was clapping from some of the Marines, and a “Kick some ass, Sergeant Lysander!” was shouted up from someone in Sam s’ squad.
    Neither the reference to recruit training nor the combat was lost on Ryck. MacPruit, despite the ensuing years, had not forgotten that beasting in the showers that night. It also sounded like he resented Ryck’s combat record. All MacPruit had done during his first tour with 1/9 was one show-the-flag-in-force to intimidate a case of social unrest. The unit had earned a Combat Mission medal, but Ryck doubted that MacPruit had even fired his weapon in anger.
    There wasn’t much Ryck could do, so he plastered a smile on his face and moved to the center of a pit. He stood in front of MacPruit, trying to look at ease. The other sergeant reached into the cargo pocket of his skins trou and pulled out a training knife. He tossed it to Ryck, who managed to catch it.
    “OK, sergeant, show me what you’ve got. Come at me,” MacPruit told him.
    This is stupid, Ryck thought. When am I ever going to come at someone with a freaking knife?
    He couldn’t hesitate, though. He raised the knife over his head and started forward with a yell.
    MacPruit pulled an eGun out of his pocket and shot Ryck in the chest. Ryck looked down, staring at the slowly fading “hole” in his chest.
    No shit, Sherlock. You’ve got a grubbing gun while you give me a freaking knife, he thought.
    “That’s not how you do it,” MacPruit said to the platoon. “You don’ need a knife. You don’ need a rifle. You don’ need a PICS. You, the Marine, are the weapon, whether you are naked or in a battle cruiser. But you need to know how to fight.”
    “Here, sergeant, give me the knife,” he said, turning his attention back to Ryck. Ryck tossed it to him and caught the eGun tossed back. It was only a training aid, but it felt good in his hand. He checked the setting. I was set as a generic handgun. This was a standard training eGun, so it could be set to simulate all Marines ballistic small arms as well as several of the pulse weapons. It worked by calculating the range to a target, then sending a small electrostatic charge that simulated the effects of a specific weapon. The charge ionized at the target, leaving a glowing “impact” to show where a real round or charge would have hit. They were limited in range. The further out, the less accurate the simulation, but close in, they were a pretty fun training tool.
    “OK, Sergeant Lysander. This time, I’m comin’ at you.”
    Ryck held his eGun out. He was going to nail MacPruit and shut him up.
    MacPruit turned to sweep his gaze around the pit at the Marines in