Training

Aleshia and Illoia were happily immersed in gossip when the door chimed.  ‘Enter’ Illoia said, rising. “Oh, Aleshia, this is my husband,” she said, as Tomirosh came in looking out of place.

“Oh, we all know him,” Aleshia drawled, turning and giving Tomirosh the standard three kisses of close friends which, as her good friend’s husband, he rated, but did not seem to appreciate, turning red and almost stammering out,

“I’m pleased to meet you.” Both lasses giggled but Illoia, who had risen, asked, 

“Did you need me now, my husband?”

“Umm, yes, we have training.”

“Don’t forget, Aleshia.” Illoia said.

“Oh, no Darling, I won’t.”

Illoia waited for her husband to ask her what it was Aleshia wasn’t to forget, but he didn’t. Instead, gripping her hand tightly, and humming his tuneless hum, he led her through the almost empty cooridor, then down stairs again and into chaos. About half the lasses already had army dependent uniforms on, and were being led too and fro, or standing in various lines. A couple of them were crying, altho Illoia couldn’t hear why.

“In here,” he said, coming to a door and waving her in. “Take your outer suit off,” he said shedding a layer himself. “Your inner suit also serves as a sim suit. Suddenly the world flickered and they were standing in a large room, and there was the female soldier standing across from her, while her husband had been moved several feet to the side. This kind of sim tech was not feasible on the planet she had grown up on, which was, while one of the older colonies, still an ‘outer world’.

“This simulate is designed to teach hand to hand combat in a variety of situations, including attacks by animals and aliens. This first simulate will concentrate on certain body positions and the use of certain muscles. In addition a sub-simunlate will begin that will teach you army regulations.”

At those words Illoia felt a rumble in the back of her head which meant that, indeed, there was a sub-simulate going on. She hated those, they always gave her a headache. That technology had reached her planet, and she hated it. But she supposed there was no objecting, and she did probably have to learn army regulations. “Now, please crouch like this…”

She crouched, and felt her suit correct her, which was a bizarre feeling. “Very good,” the lass said, “Now move your arm…”

As Illoia followed the seemingly bizarre instructions and felt her muscles begin to ache, she noticed her husband wander a few feet away and to begin to spar with another man. She hoped he, too, was a simulation, as this undersuit seemed far too intimate for any lad except her husband to see her in. 

She spared a glance for her husband and was horrified to see him grasp his opponent in some kind of head lock, twist, and drop the corpse to the floor with a satisfied grin. Even though the lad must just be a simulate she still shuddered at the grin. She was married to a lad who could casually kill a man and grin.

She felt a tug on her own arm and went flying to the ground… which hurt! “That was a simple side throw,” her teacher said. “Stand up and I will do it again and then teach you a counter…”

It seemed forever but was probably about ten minutes later when, after a particularly painful landing, the teacher said, “That will do for a beginning. We will now  begin to train with a side arm.”

“I have used a side arm before,” Illoia said, getting up and dusting herself off… a foolish action, she knew, but one she couldn’t seem to break herself from.

“This is an adaptive progressive simulate so as it is seen that you can perform a task we will move onto the next one. Please take this firearm.”

Illoia took the sidearm and checked the charge, which was full. She checked and it was on safe, and she looked down the sight, then looked at her instructor. It was not a type she was used to, but had an excellent balance. 

“Set it to practice one and fire at the red target.”

Illoia set the pistol, took a stance and fired. Several times.

“Very good,” the soldier admitted. “Let’s see how you do with a live target.”

An alien appeared from behind a tree running straight at her and she screamed, dropped the pistol, and cowered. The alien disappeared and she looked up to see the soldier lass looking at her. “We will need to work on your fight/flight reaction in this particular situation,” her instructor said calmly. “Let us try that again, but in slower motion. Please pick up your side arm and stand up.”

Feeling like all seven kinds of a fool Illoia picked up the pistol and stood. The alien appeared again, moving in the slowest of motions, and Illoia blazed away at it, knocking off first its head, then, as she had time, each of its limbs, and then jumping back out of the way as the body, still in slow motion, continued to hurtle toward her.

“Much better,” the soldier said. However you will find that this sidearm does not have an infinite supply of energy and, in an extended firefight, you might run out of charge if your pattern is too wasteful. As well, the aliens keep most of their brain matter in their thorax so, while a head shot is damaging, a thorax shot is the better shot, being both less likely to miss and more damaging. Let us try at full speed again.”

This time Illoia managed to keep her sidearm up, fire it, hit the thorax… but was painfully dumped on her behind by the force of the collision and, looking down, she saw, horrified, several rips in her suit, with copious amounts of blood, where the forearms of the alien had torn into her.

“As you see,” the soldier said, dispassionately, “the defensive mechanisms of the aliens continue despite their mortal wounds. Successful battle against an enemy must involve moving out of the way of their moving corpse as well as inflicting damage. Our current settings turn off the pain simulate but be aware that that will change in later sessions. Try again.”

Illoia jumped to her feet, her wounds miraculously healed. She shuddered at the idea of the pain that she would no doubt feeling when she failed like this in the future.

The alien came around a different tree, but still in slow motion, and this time she got off two shots,  one at the thorax and one at a lower limb, and then jumped out of the way. Unfortunately the alien moved the same way and literally ran her over and ran against the far wall, splattering itself there.

“That was an excellent try,” the soldier said, as Illoia looked, appalled, at her abdomen where her guts were, painlessly, spreading themselves out on the floor. “However as you saw a shot against a lower limb tends to make the creature swerve in that direction. The trick with a leg shot,” she said, as an alien launched itself at her, “is to blow off a leg in the opposite direction.”

She did this, and, sure enough, the creature swerved one way while the soldier moved in the other. “A good shot and you don’t even have to move. Now get up and try again.”

Much to Illoia’s disappointment, she was only allowed to shoot for another five minutes, and then the scene changed. She was in a large room, dressed in exercise shorts, and in front of a strange glass walled structure. “This is our standard obstacle course,” her instructor said. “You enter at that hole there,” she said, pointing to a hole at the bottom of the structure closest to Illoia. “And proceed as quickly as possible through the various obstacles until you exit at the other side. For this simulation the only important variable is time.”

Illoia looked  up again at the structure. The glass was a bit difficult to see through but, looking closely, she could see what looked like various shelves but were probably tunnels. Sighing she went over to the hole, knelt down, and crawled in.

The first length was all crawling but, when she reached the end, she came upon a ladder, stretching up to the top of the structure. She stared climbing and looked out the ‘window’. There she could see Tom, still sparring. At the top of the ladder there was another tunnel, this one so small she had to crawl into it on her belly and push herself along. “What is the point of this?” she mumbled.

“The obstacle course…” she heard and shrieked. There, next to her, bisected by the wall and hovering in mid air, was the instructor. Only a sim, but still a shocking sight. “… is designed to exercise a variety of muscles, tendons, and ligaments, in a non-impactful way. You are scheduled for twice daily exercise. This should have considerable impact on your muscle tone, flexibility, and agility.”

“Umm, thanks,” Illoia said. She hadn’t really meant it as a question.

An hour later the scene died, abruptly. “I’m sorry,” her husband said, “but it is time for us to give up the simulator.”

“Oh, I’m so tired!” she complained.

“The obstacle course will do that to you. Tomorrow  you will be extremely sore. In a few weeks your body will fully adjust.”

Illoia quailed at the thought of ‘a few weeks’, but continued, gamely, “I liked the first part, the part where I got to kill aliens.”

Tom looked at her, and she couldn’t read the look. “You will get more of that training, too,” he said, after a long pause, and turned toward the door.

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Thank you for reading Von’s Substack. I would love it if you commented! I love hearing from readers, especially critical comments. I would love to start more letter exchanges, so if there’s a subject you’re interested in, get writing and tag me!

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Thanks again, God Bless, Soli Deo gloria,

Von

Links

Article 17

Article 17 is a military science fiction story with aliens and romance. It is set in a future reminiscent of Napoleon era Britain. The war was going very poorly until the military installed a dictator. This story follows one of the dictator’s great men: Cladin Tomirosh, Leader, and thrice decorated hero.

Intro // Podcast Version

She was pretty, popular, snobby, and a planetary governor’s daughter. He was the son of shopkeepers, a social misfit, and a decorated hero. She thought she was there to dance. He had other ideas.

A Dance // Podcast Version

As a governor’s daughter, Illoia usually avoided such events, but when the captain made the announcement that there was to be an Article 17 dance, she, too, was forced to attend. If only the scum hadn’t been there too.

The Unbridgeable Chasm // Podcast Version

Eukles and Meriones, brave military leaders, quail at the idea of crossing the gulf between themselves and asking a lass to dance.

There He Is // Podcast Version

The young hero comes in, and Aleshia and Illoyia gossip about him.

Look at the Young Hero // Podcast Version

The young hero comes in, and greets Eukles and Meriones… and announces his intentions.

Target // Podcast Version

Tom, Leader Cladin Tomirosh, sets his sights on the governors daughter. She isn’t impressed.

Fuming // Podcast Version

Tom and Illoia dance, while she desperately tries to get him to go away!

Now’s Our Chance! // Podcast Version

Eukles and Meriones use Tom and Illoia as a distraction and stalk their own girls.

To Slap or Not to Slap // Podcast Version

Meriones introduces himself to his new wife with a slap on the backside.

No Sane Man // Podcast Version

Illoia insults the young hero, and he proposes.

Never You, Darling // Podcast Version

Illoia finds herself unable to turn down his proposal.

A Wild Dance // Podcast Version

Illoia finds being Tom’s Consented Wife hard… with wild New Irish dances and immodest ones.

Registered // Podcast Version

A new marriage is registered. All hail the dictator!

Middy’s Got a Lass! // Podcast Version

Medinia is deliriously happy… she got 17d!

A Duel to the Death // Podcast Version

Illoia wakes up next to her new husband.

A Dowry // Podcast Version

Fitting // Podcast Version