Zero Drift
Copyright© 2026 by Charlie Foxtrot
Chapter 3
The first thing she did with her assignment was check whether Camden’s was the same. It was not.
The second task was seeing where Sergeant Veraine’s squad was berthed. Spinward, two spokes. All recruit training was on this rim, with each spoke delineating a training section. Two spokes was just about the worst position to move; too close to short-cut via the hub, too far to make it easy to move her gear.
She pulled her issued duffle out and began packing.
“Where are you off to, Nara?” Kincaid asked as he pulled out his own duffle.
“Two spokes spinward. Sergeant Veraine’s squad.”
“I heard she’s tough.”
Their limited interaction with regular squads made his assertion questionable. “Where?”
“On the range last week.”
Nara filed that. Kincaid had socialized. She had stayed focused on the instructor.
They had spent a week at the range, in the section anti-spin from their own bay. It had been basic familiarization, not live firing or qualification. At this point in their training they were expected to be able to safely handle weapons.
“How do you fold everything so neatly?” Kincaid asked, looking over her shoulder at the precise placement of gear in Nara’s duffle.
“Do it right or it won’t all fit. Besides, if Veraine’s is the hard-ass you say she is, I’ll probably get a kit inspection as soon as I arrive.”
It was prophetic.
“Recruit Tholren.”
Nara stopped immediately and snapped to attention, her full kit-bag dropped next to her. The twelve members of Sergeant Veraine’s squad, two full first teams each led by a monitor, were mustered in two rows, watching her arrive.
“Recruit Tholren, reporting as ordered, sergeant!”
“We’ll see about that. Squad, rest.” Her new sergeant marched to Nara, who kept her eyes forward. She knew the command to rest did not apply to her. She remained at attention.
“Is your kit ready for inspection?” The question was barked, not asked.
“Sergeant, yes sergeant.” She wasn’t going to fall into the trap of calling a sergeant, sir. Monitor Cutter had broken them all of that habit.
“Proceed.”
Nara dropped to one knee, opened her kit bag and pulled out the first item. “Combat harness, tactical,” she said, laying it neatly to one side. “Canteen, first-aid kit, combat compress and tourniquet.” The process went on until the bag was empty. Sergeant Veraine stood over her, looking down. She was the same height as Nara, but loomed over her, occasionally stepping left or right looking at the items arrayed next to Nara.
“Anything else, recruit?”
It’s a loaded question.
Nara ran through her inventory. Every item had been named and placed as the field manual dictated. Then she realized.
“Kit bag, Sergeant. Inventory complete.”
She rose, resuming her stance at attention. Now Sergeant Veraine looked her over, starting at her head, meticulously cataloging her coverall, her utility belt, her boots, then slowly looking back up. Nara knew she was as rough as Kincaid had hinted by the time her blue eyes locked onto Nara’s own gaze.
“Your haircut is substandard, recruit.” It was loud enough for the squad to hear.
“Fireteam Able, let’s show Recruit Tholren what a proper haircut looks like.”
Duty caps came off nearly in unison. Nara saw them all smiling. The longest hair was less than two finger widths, with many of them shaved entirely.
“Monitor Kentaro, make certain Recruit Tholren meets our standards, then get her a berth. We are going down dirt-side at 0330, for range training. All members will be kitted at 0230 for inspection. Monitors, inspect kit bags by 2200. Fireteams will set watches with everyone up at 0200. Questions?”
She looked at Nara as she asked. Before she knew what was expected, her mouth opened. “No, sergeant!” Her voice matched the entire squad.
Sergeant Veraine pivoted precisely and marched toward her cabin off to the side of the training hall. As soon as her door closed, a Monitor approached. He had a hint of dark hair over his scalp, dark eyebrows, and deep brown eyes.
“Welcome to Sierra Squad, recruit. Let’s get you a haircut.”
“Paraded like an animal, now shorn like one as well, Nara.”
Nara smiled as the clippers buzzed against her scalp. If the unit shaved their heads, she would join them.
The rest of the day was bunk assignment, meeting the rest of Fireteam Able. “Why Able instead of Alpha?” Nara asked Monitor Kentaro as she ran her hand over the soft prickles of her scalp.
“The Sergeant wants no confusion. Alpha is used for normal comms and things like grid coordinates and MEC standard commands. Able is distinct. Let’s get introductions over. It’s not uncommon across squads.”
The fireteam gathered around. She did not react. The dark hair on the floor was less interesting than the team’s expectation that she would.
“Jalen Rusk,” a man almost as large as big-baby-face nodded. “He’s our designated vanguard.”
“Maybe I’ll get that for real once we get operational,” he added with a friendly grin. He smiled like a man who liked the sound of his own designation.
“Jaxen Rhyl, rifleman.” Another man, slimmer than Jalen, but just as fit nodded.
“Sera Thayne, rifleman.” Nara felt she was the one that read the manual, thoroughly. Her nod was precise, open to friendship but not offering first.
“Korin Vale, grenadier, for now.” A smaller man, wiry. His eyes were hooded, cautious, judging.
“Lira Vesk, rifleman.” The last woman was smaller than anyone else, but coiled tight, ready to spring any direction. She was like Camden, over-sampling, but not as intensely.
“If I’m a rifleman, why am I always on point, Monitor?” Her question was obviously rhetorical, delivered in a clipped, well-practiced tone.
“Zip it, Vesk, or I’ll take you off-point on our next patrol.”
The rest of the team grinned. It was an inside joke. Nara wasn’t inside yet.
“Everyone get squared away. If you have questions on packing, check with Tholren here.”
“Nara,” she added quickly.
“Why her?” Vesk asked.
“I’ve worked with the Sergeant a long time. I’ve never seen her not find something in a kit inspection to criticize. Tholren knows how to pack.”
“But can she do anything else yet?” Vale asked.
She’d find out soon enough.
She had practiced embarkation procedures for combat shuttle loads. She had not done it repeatedly with Sierra Squad. Every member was locked-in, stowing kit bags in the lockers above their seats, buckling in without being told where to go. Clipping their helmet comms into the cabin circuit.
Nara felt her way more than followed. The open seat was a hole in the pattern that she filled instinctively. The harness was not a problem. She missed the comm check until Kentaro walked past, inspecting each recruit. He clipped her helmet in, said nothing, and moved on.
“Sierra Squad, onboard and ready for drop,” Sergeant Veraine said over the open circuit.
“Ready for drop. All hands brace.”
A beat later, the shuttle launched, slamming them to the rear of the shuttle. Nara’s shoulder ached at the force. Seats were aligned parallel to the fuselage, not in the rows optimized for acceleration. The force held steady as the shuttle engines fired and hurtled them toward the moon.
Breaking thrust pushed her the other direction, not as strongly. Vesk, seated across from her was grinning. Rhyl and Rusk, flanking Vesk, looked almost bored.
Vesk keyed the comm. “How many practice drops do you have, Nara?”
Thrust ceased, the falling sensation was surprising. Nara knew Vesk had timed her question intentionally. Perfect.
“First one. How many does the squad have?”
“This is seven. You’re doing okay.”
Not great, not perfect, but okay. It was enough for now.
Breaking thrust hit again, then the more steady pull as the shuttle descended through the atmosphere. One final hard break, then they were down. She knew the landing surface was rough, graded rock, not smooth concrete.
She moved automatically, unclipping comms, switching on the Fireteam frequency in her helmet with a tap on her wrist terminal. Harness off, she waited for the person next to her, Sera Thayne, to move. One-g, after nearly a month on the station, made her unsteady on her first step. She corrected. Her kit bag pulled her backward, but she adjusted and followed her fireteam out of the shuttle, ducking to ensure nothing caught the hatch.
“Move, move, move!” Sergeant Veraine commanded. Nara moved. Kentaro was at the lead as they jogged away from the shuttle, heading toward a small cluster of tents. Nara registered the tower beyond the tents, the rise off to the left. It would give a good vantage point of the shuttle field and the camp. The reflected light of the gas giant the moon circled was diffuse but consistent. She’d learn its shadow patterns.
“Fall in!”
Both fireteams formed two lines, two recruits and Kentaro in front, three recruits behind. The other fireteam formed up to Kentaro’s left, a gap between the two groups. Nara stood alone, a single recruit in a third line, behind Vesk who was behind Kentaro.
“Sierra Squad, rest!”
This time, Nara did relax, keeping her position, but spreading her feet and flexing her knees. Rest was still in formation, but allowed to move so long as her right foot remained where it belonged.
“We will be on the range for the week. Our last visit was for a day. We’re done with familiarization firing. This is qualification time. I expect everyone here to meet the standard. Monitors, assign bunks, then muster at the armory for weapons issue. Dismissed.”
Fireteam Able followed Monitor Kentaro to the tents. “Rusk and Rhyl,” Kentaro barked as they reached the first tent. It wasn’t really a historical tent of fabric. The walls were fixed panels, standard sizes two meters by three, held on a frame to make a box with a slanted roof. Angled openings that did not fit the standard panel geometry were filled with translucent mesh allowing airflow.
“Thayne and Tholren,” he commanded at the next tent.
Nara peeled off with Sera Thayne. She paused, letting Sera enter first. The doorway was a mesh opening with a magnetic seal. The floors were the same standard panels. Sera tossed her kit-bag on the left-hand bunk, so Nara tossed hers on the right.
“Boots off at the door,” Sera said. Her tone was friendlier than the words suggested. “We’ll get things squared away after weapons are issued. For now, we’ll let things be.”
Nara nodded. They caught up with Monitor Kentaro as he exited his own tent. The fireteam fell in and marched to the armory, closer to the tower Nara had seen. An older sergeant stood before the more permanent structure at the edge of the camp.
Nara had not been issued a live weapon on the station during training. The special assessment squad had gotten a feel for the standard over-under configuration rifle that was the weapon of choice in the MEC, but never fired one.
Everything was the same as the familiarization model and manual: over‑under frame, the top barrel a pulsed laser fed by a stock‑mounted high‑cap cell, the lower barrel still earning it the name rifle. Hexagonal caseless rounds, six‑millimeter darts pushing past a thousand meters per second, effective to a klick. The specs from the manual were one thing. The weight in her hands was another.
Nara took the issued rifle, checked it was not loaded, confirmed the laser safety was in the safe positions, and kept her finger away from the trigger and mode toggle. She had absorbed the importance of maintaining muzzle discipline. Only point at things you were willing to kill. It had been a sobering lesson.
The rifle felt different from the training models. The stock was heavier with a full battery pack installed. She knew it would gain weight once a full magazine was inserted. The center of balance shifted toward the stock as a result. The training rifles had been barrel heavy.
“Two hours,” Kentaro barked. “Field strip your weapon, clean them and then we’ll go zero them in. I expect to be ready to start qualifications before lunch. Move.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.