Joshua Jones
When all is said and done, all's quiet and boring.
I would greatly appreciate some feedback regarding a portion of a chapter which introduces a minor protagonist in my WiP. He belongs to a society which has no prison system; rather, if a fine or mandated civil service is not appropriate, they are sentenced to years in the "Irregulars". The protagonist was sentenced for life, the reason why is not revealed until the last couple chapters of his story. The balance of this backstory is revealed by the middle of the second chapter, however this section is the introduction to the character.
***********
Damion Fitz shuttered as the clamps clipped in place, securing his powered armor into the launch vehicle. He hated this sort of insertion; he’d take jumping out of a transport shuttle or an amphibious entry any day. Even an orbital drop was preferable to being placed inside a glorified cruise missile and fired at the objective.
“Clear launch bays Alpha through Epsilon,” the announcer voice said. “Strike team, prepare to launch.”
“5:06” appeared on his visor, denoting how long this particular ordeal would last. He would be out of it for at least the first minute, though; the g forces were significant enough that, despite his g-suit and training, he would lose consciousness almost immediately and only recover fully when the acceleration stabilizes. Of course, they never gave Irregulars the decency of a countdown or…
Damion awoke to a massive headache and the visor numbers counting down from “3:57”. Damn these launch insertions! he swore in his mind. bullsh**, is what this is.
“Unknown sender; please identify.” The irate voice said over the radio. Damion looked and, to his horror, discovered that he had activated the comm in his unconscious state, and apparently said that over an open channel.
“Unknown sender; identify yourself immediately.”
There was only one way out of this. He drummed up his best Altairian accent and said, “I ain’t f*cking stupid. Out.” Givens, the grenadier and squad’s only Altair native, would have no idea why an angry comm Lieutenant would be chewing him out when he came to, but passing the blame was a military tradition all the way back to humanity's Earthbound days. He switch to the unit’s tactical channel, affectionately named “tac-chat”.
“You know you’re a *******, right Fitz?” said the familiar voice of Lexx, the other rifleman and bunkmate of Damion, over tac-chat. “Did you have to practice, or does it run in your family?”
“Ah, I’ll make it up to him back at base. Besides, you did the same thing to Garza a month ago!”
“Shhh! He doesn’t know I did that…”
“Did what?” came the gruff, groggy voice of Corporal Garza, machine gunner and second in command of the fireteam. As he could bench press both men together, staying on his good side was a priority.
Lexx, in a panic, replied with his first thought “Oh, ah, Corporal Fezz, Garza.”
“Fezz? The canine unit in Charlie company?” Garza asked with sudden clarity. “Lexx, I know you are depraved and all, but a dog?”
“No, sh*t, I meant Fetzer…” denoting the blonde Regular from Bravo Company who used to be a model.
Damion took advantage of the situation. “No walking this one back, Lexx. Looks like someone’s been chasing a different kind of tail…”
“Fitz, no…”
The computerized voice of his suits OS interrupted the ribbing, “Prepare for launch vehicle separation.”
“Sorry Lexx, you will have to introduce me to her later. I’ll bring a chew toy. See you on the ground!”
The deployment vehicle broke apart around him, leaving him careening over open water at several times the speed of sound. He quelled the intrinsic sense of panic this brought and activated his glider wings and deceleration jets. The next minute and a half was spent with red vision at just over -1 g, which was nearly as unpleasant as the forced nap earlier. Reason #2 he hated this sort of insertion.
When he had decelerated enough that the pneumatics in his suit wouldn't explode and his limbs be ripped off, Damion swung around to a landing position. The change in position made the g forces more tolerable, and his vision returned to normal almost immediately. It also gave him a clear view of the orbital strike punching a hole in the dome shaped objective. In....38 seconds, he would be at this newly created entry point. A good flight computer would take him right through the center. Irregulars didn't get good computers. Reason #3 he hated these sort of insertions.
Every muscle tensed as he neared the hole in the dome. He had decelerated to less than 100 m/s, but he would still be converted to a fine paste and bone fragments if he hit the wall. Thankfully, this time, the computer spared Damion this fate and sent him through the hole. The Luyten soldiers, however, began firing at him as soon as he passed through. He decided to forego the soft landing, ejected his wings, and rolled out of the impact as another counter began at 0:06. At 0:00, Lexx would be in his lap. Damion needed to move. Now.
He came to a stop as the computer counted “Five”. Bullets whizzed by, bouncing off the steel crates. He made a break to his right as he produced his sidearm; a three barreled shotgun with explosive pellets. He bounded over a crate...
“Four”
...and practically into the arms of a Luyten armor. They raised their weapons simultaneously, but Damion was faster with the trigger. A shotgun blast sent a spray of metal in all directions.
“Three”
A second blast to the downed armor ensured the kill, but there was no blood. “Drones,” Damion mouthed as he replaced his sidearm and drew his battle rifle.
“Two”
Damion turned back toward the entry point and opened fire on the drones, dropping one and causing the rest to seek shelter. A jammer grenade followed these bullets.
“One”
The jammer clinked on the cement floor and activated, disabling the drones for a few seconds. That was all they needed.
Lexx soared in, also abandoning the soft landing for a slightly less controlled roll; his feet touched first, followed by his head, then ass, feet again, and chest in rapid succession. He was back on his feet and to Damion's position by the time the next counter read “Two”.
“Drones?” Lexx asked as he bounded the crate, opening fire on the one trying to maneuver behind Damion.
“So far. Just like the other continent.”
“Tin cans, mind links… only difference is the cleanup.” Garza chimed in as he descended, floating down while his automatic weapon roared to life. “Secure the ingress point while the rest of the platoon lands.”
“Roger Garza.” Damion and Lexx fanned out as Givens’ countdown reached one. Instead of an anticipated grenadier, though, they heard a loud thump, were pelted by a shower of debris, and Givens’ armor bounced lifelessly across the cement floor.
“Givens!” Damion called instinctively, but he resisted his impulse to come to Givens’ aid. There was no point; Givens was dead before he hit the ground.
Sgt. Kelsow arrived a few seconds later. “Form up, men… Where’s Givens?”
Lexx pointed toward Givens’ mangled form. “Soup in a can, Sarge.”
“Hell of a way to start an op…” Kelsow trailed off, then shrugged, “We Irregulars are expendable; his weapon isn’t. Lexx, Fitz, secure his weapon. It will be synched to Fitz’ biometrics by the time you get there. Garza, suppressing fire. Move!”
“Roger,” they all said in unison.
***********
Damion Fitz shuttered as the clamps clipped in place, securing his powered armor into the launch vehicle. He hated this sort of insertion; he’d take jumping out of a transport shuttle or an amphibious entry any day. Even an orbital drop was preferable to being placed inside a glorified cruise missile and fired at the objective.
“Clear launch bays Alpha through Epsilon,” the announcer voice said. “Strike team, prepare to launch.”
“5:06” appeared on his visor, denoting how long this particular ordeal would last. He would be out of it for at least the first minute, though; the g forces were significant enough that, despite his g-suit and training, he would lose consciousness almost immediately and only recover fully when the acceleration stabilizes. Of course, they never gave Irregulars the decency of a countdown or…
Damion awoke to a massive headache and the visor numbers counting down from “3:57”. Damn these launch insertions! he swore in his mind. bullsh**, is what this is.
“Unknown sender; please identify.” The irate voice said over the radio. Damion looked and, to his horror, discovered that he had activated the comm in his unconscious state, and apparently said that over an open channel.
“Unknown sender; identify yourself immediately.”
There was only one way out of this. He drummed up his best Altairian accent and said, “I ain’t f*cking stupid. Out.” Givens, the grenadier and squad’s only Altair native, would have no idea why an angry comm Lieutenant would be chewing him out when he came to, but passing the blame was a military tradition all the way back to humanity's Earthbound days. He switch to the unit’s tactical channel, affectionately named “tac-chat”.
“You know you’re a *******, right Fitz?” said the familiar voice of Lexx, the other rifleman and bunkmate of Damion, over tac-chat. “Did you have to practice, or does it run in your family?”
“Ah, I’ll make it up to him back at base. Besides, you did the same thing to Garza a month ago!”
“Shhh! He doesn’t know I did that…”
“Did what?” came the gruff, groggy voice of Corporal Garza, machine gunner and second in command of the fireteam. As he could bench press both men together, staying on his good side was a priority.
Lexx, in a panic, replied with his first thought “Oh, ah, Corporal Fezz, Garza.”
“Fezz? The canine unit in Charlie company?” Garza asked with sudden clarity. “Lexx, I know you are depraved and all, but a dog?”
“No, sh*t, I meant Fetzer…” denoting the blonde Regular from Bravo Company who used to be a model.
Damion took advantage of the situation. “No walking this one back, Lexx. Looks like someone’s been chasing a different kind of tail…”
“Fitz, no…”
The computerized voice of his suits OS interrupted the ribbing, “Prepare for launch vehicle separation.”
“Sorry Lexx, you will have to introduce me to her later. I’ll bring a chew toy. See you on the ground!”
The deployment vehicle broke apart around him, leaving him careening over open water at several times the speed of sound. He quelled the intrinsic sense of panic this brought and activated his glider wings and deceleration jets. The next minute and a half was spent with red vision at just over -1 g, which was nearly as unpleasant as the forced nap earlier. Reason #2 he hated this sort of insertion.
When he had decelerated enough that the pneumatics in his suit wouldn't explode and his limbs be ripped off, Damion swung around to a landing position. The change in position made the g forces more tolerable, and his vision returned to normal almost immediately. It also gave him a clear view of the orbital strike punching a hole in the dome shaped objective. In....38 seconds, he would be at this newly created entry point. A good flight computer would take him right through the center. Irregulars didn't get good computers. Reason #3 he hated these sort of insertions.
Every muscle tensed as he neared the hole in the dome. He had decelerated to less than 100 m/s, but he would still be converted to a fine paste and bone fragments if he hit the wall. Thankfully, this time, the computer spared Damion this fate and sent him through the hole. The Luyten soldiers, however, began firing at him as soon as he passed through. He decided to forego the soft landing, ejected his wings, and rolled out of the impact as another counter began at 0:06. At 0:00, Lexx would be in his lap. Damion needed to move. Now.
He came to a stop as the computer counted “Five”. Bullets whizzed by, bouncing off the steel crates. He made a break to his right as he produced his sidearm; a three barreled shotgun with explosive pellets. He bounded over a crate...
“Four”
...and practically into the arms of a Luyten armor. They raised their weapons simultaneously, but Damion was faster with the trigger. A shotgun blast sent a spray of metal in all directions.
“Three”
A second blast to the downed armor ensured the kill, but there was no blood. “Drones,” Damion mouthed as he replaced his sidearm and drew his battle rifle.
“Two”
Damion turned back toward the entry point and opened fire on the drones, dropping one and causing the rest to seek shelter. A jammer grenade followed these bullets.
“One”
The jammer clinked on the cement floor and activated, disabling the drones for a few seconds. That was all they needed.
Lexx soared in, also abandoning the soft landing for a slightly less controlled roll; his feet touched first, followed by his head, then ass, feet again, and chest in rapid succession. He was back on his feet and to Damion's position by the time the next counter read “Two”.
“Drones?” Lexx asked as he bounded the crate, opening fire on the one trying to maneuver behind Damion.
“So far. Just like the other continent.”
“Tin cans, mind links… only difference is the cleanup.” Garza chimed in as he descended, floating down while his automatic weapon roared to life. “Secure the ingress point while the rest of the platoon lands.”
“Roger Garza.” Damion and Lexx fanned out as Givens’ countdown reached one. Instead of an anticipated grenadier, though, they heard a loud thump, were pelted by a shower of debris, and Givens’ armor bounced lifelessly across the cement floor.
“Givens!” Damion called instinctively, but he resisted his impulse to come to Givens’ aid. There was no point; Givens was dead before he hit the ground.
Sgt. Kelsow arrived a few seconds later. “Form up, men… Where’s Givens?”
Lexx pointed toward Givens’ mangled form. “Soup in a can, Sarge.”
“Hell of a way to start an op…” Kelsow trailed off, then shrugged, “We Irregulars are expendable; his weapon isn’t. Lexx, Fitz, secure his weapon. It will be synched to Fitz’ biometrics by the time you get there. Garza, suppressing fire. Move!”
“Roger,” they all said in unison.
