Zero Drift
Copyright© 2026 by Charlie Foxtrot
Chapter 6
Six hostiles. One shot. Nara had been doing the math for an hour.
She watched Cutter, Zarev and Darin arrive at the survey site. Cutter had words with whoever was in charge. Based on the widely waving arms and body language, it did not go as well as Cutter likely hoped it would. All three of them took positions along the site’s southern perimeter.
Arv returned to Ridge 107. He adjusted his line, looked back at the OP once, then signaled with three motions of his hand and arm, “proceed as ordered”. That put the burden on her.
The hostiles were being more careful. She only got occasional glimpses of the lead elements when they moved. It appeared they were paired up. One laser operator with a grenadier or whatever the larger bore guns were. One pair was well over the line Arv had established, but she had no shot on them. They were being too careful in their movements.
The other assault pair exposed themselves for less than a second when they moved, if she saw them at all. The caseless ammo would send the slug downrange at nearly a thousand meters a second. She needed them to remain still for the almost two seconds it would take for the round to arrive. So far, that opportunity hadn’t presented itself. If they moved west, toward the ridge, she had decided she would fire anyway to give Fireteam George warning.
Then there were the last two. The ones she called Officer and Jammer. Officer was good with his movement. He was never exposed long enough for a clear shot. Jammer was a different story. He had to have the heaviest load on his back, and did not move well with it. While everyone else of the opposition moved like jungle cats from her homeworld, Jammer was more like a draft animal, slow and lumbering.
Jammer was likely her best shot. He was also at the back of their formation, so would be the last to cross the line Arv had set. She continued to scan the field, watching for any other shot, but her sights kept returning to Jammer.
Jammer.
If he was out of commission, would the jamming stop?
She wasn’t sure.
And it didn’t look like she would have time to decide. She saw a flash of color. Chameleon cloth that was slow to change. They were orienting on the ridge line. Fireteam George was on the closer side. Did they have a spy-cam set up? Would they know an assault was coming?
The signal preventing them from communicating was the real enemy.
Jammer had stopped moving. Her sight centered on his head. Her body position was perfectly unnatural as Veraine had instructed her, but a solid shooting platform. She breathed in, watched the grass between herself and Jammer, exhaled. Her finger tightened. Breathe in.
The jamming kit was the real enemy.
Her point of aim shifted. The heavy gear on Jammer’s back was a better target than his head. It was covered in a coating, probably chameleon mesh that would prevent laser penetration at this range. But it would not deflect the six millimeter round traveling at a thousand meters per second.
Breathe. Exhale. Pause. Squeeze.
The sharp crack surrounded her, but the round would hit before any sound reached the attackers. She kept her eye to her scope. One second. Two...
The round hit the jammer pack like a hammer swung by a god. Five kilojoules collapsed into a point no wider than a pencil, punching through the outer casing before the metal even had time to deform. The entry hole stayed neat, a perfect puncture, but everything inside the pack came apart. Jammer was jerked back by the force, arms windmilling. Nara imagined broken bones from the force of the shot. Better than being dead.
[Designation assigned. Specialist.] [Integration Level advancing. Three to four.]
She dismissed the overlay notifications and regained her sight picture. Jammer was on the ground, rolling away from his pack. The other hostiles were under cover, scanning for her position all around them. The laser gunners were the ones to watch. She remained still.
“George, OP, how copy?” she asked.
“OP, George. Comms restored. Hold fire. We’re calling in support.”
A moment later, she heard Cutter on the wide-area band. “Hostile forces approaching Meridian Mining survey team on Varex island Hotel-Echo-Zero-Three, you are under observation and flanked. Stand down your operation and cease hostilities, or you will be engaged.”
He repeated his call.
“Oboe leader, this is OP,” Nara called. “Leader of hostile forces is on some sort of handheld comm, over.”
“Ranging shot authorized, OP.”
Nara thumbed the laser selector and double-checked it was on ranging power. Officer’s head was in her sights. Breathe, exhale, squeeze.
Officer dove to the ground. The laser detection arrays in their helmets must have been as effective as MEC’s. Even at full power, the pulse laser would not have penetrated his helmet at fifteen hundred meters.
“Meridian forces. Cease fire. We have wounded men. Cease fire. This is a mistake. We mean no hostile intent.”
Cutter was still on the line. “Identify yourselves.”
The delay in answering was longer than Nara thought they needed. She scanned the field of fire in case Cutter ordered another ranging shot. Someone other than the officer would let them know they really were outmatched.
“We’re a detachment from Midveil-Soros.”
They said it as if the name mattered. It didn’t to Nara. Mase filled in on the team channel, so Cutter would hear. “Mid-level mercenary company out of Holliworld. They’ve worked this sector for a couple of years, taking jobs from half a dozen corps.”
That meant they were working for the rival corporation looking to get a foothold on Varex.
“Stand and come in with your hands in clear view,” Cutter commanded.
“We’ve got a man down. I don’t know if we can move him.”
“Jammer is mobile,” Nara said on the team circuit. “He might have a broken collarbone or arm, but he can walk with assistance. No other casualties on their team.”
Cutter wasted no time calling their bluff. “We have eyes all over you. Your technician is mobile, so don’t try to play any games. All six of you have thirty seconds to stand in plain sight or my Sharpshooter will begin picking you off.”
The way Cutter said Sharpshooter implied more than a recruit sniper on a hill. Nara had questions for her monitor.
She was happy to see the Officer standing up, his rifle slung with its muzzle down and his hands in clear view. Next one of the grenadiers stood in a similar fashion. One at a time, they all stood, the Jammer making it up last, then hobbling over to his comrades.
“Six bogeys in the clear,” Nara called out.
On the group frequency, “George proceeding to close and disarm. OP cover us.”
“George, OP, I’ve got you covered.”
Cutter had named her something the system hadn’t.
The Integration called her Specialist. According to the intake interview, she needed to report that to her Monitor, but both Cutter and Arv were busy sorting out their prisoners.
Staff Sergeant Muir was with them as well. He had returned to the survey site at a brisk patrol pace once comms were reestablished. A shuttle had brought real troopers down from the station as well. Through it all, Nara stayed on post, scanning the approaches and performing her assigned duties. Ressa relieved her for brief stretches, but was always more relaxed once Nara settled back into her position.
Between sweeps, Nara looked at her overlay.
[Integration Level: 4] was no longer startling to see, but the three points available for allocation were as distracting as the notice of her designation. Likewise, she didn’t just get a designation choice. It was a firm assignment.
With bonuses.
Her Signal, Frame, and Drive had all been increased by a point. She had two skills slotted as well. Something called Small Arms Proficiency and Sustained Fire had been slotted with the designation assignment. She looked at the Small Arms Proficiency skill. She was level one in the skill, basic proficiency. System-assisted targeting at close range.
She liked to think she had already proven proficiency by being rated Expert on the firing range. It was as if the skill only affirmed what she had proven already. Then she read the higher levels. Signal assisted shot placement and single-shot lethality sounded promising. She moved on to the other skill.
At level one, it said, “Suppression and area-denial fire output holds longer before the system flags fatigue-degradation on accuracy or cadence.” She thought about that. She’d been in overwatch position for hours at a time so far. She and Ressa established a cadence, giving her some relief once an hour. If she understood this skill, it would extend her time and focus window by 30% at level one. If she needed to move once an hour, she should now be able to hold about twenty minutes longer.
Not a tremendous perk, but nice nonetheless. Level three looked impressive: “Maintain suppression envelope for a full engagement without accuracy drift.” At that point, she’d be limited by ammo. She wondered what it took to gain skill levels.
“Fireteam Oboe, stand down. Full kit and assemble at the rally point.” Cutter’s voice was clear on the comm link.
“About time,” Ressa said aloud as she rose from the spotting scope nearby. “I don’t know how you hold that crazy shooting position for so long, Nara,” she added as she began packing up the scope.
“Lots of practice on my last rotation.”
They packed the gear from the OP, then moved downslope to retrieve the rest of their gear. Mase was packing up his large pack of electronics as well.
Once they started moving down the hill toward the survey site, Nara fell into step near Mase. “What was it like when you received your designation?” she asked without preamble.
Mase looked at her, weighing her. “I was given a choice. Technician or Medic. It seemed like an easy decision. I’d always been a bit of a tinkerer growing up, but was drifting along until I signed up. I was surprised as hell when the system offered me a choice of designations and an integration level bump. We’d stumbled into a Class Two Flux Rift on what was supposed to be standard patrol.”
He was quiet for several meters. “When we came out, most of the team had gained something.”
Nara nodded. Similar stories were often heard. A lot of the military units recruited by pushing scenarios like that. Sign-up, get some training, hit a rift or two and get advanced by the system.
Proper young women don’t go chasing these rift things, Nara.
“Did something happen?” Mase asked softly after another few steps.
Nara nodded. She wasn’t ready to share more.
Mase smiled. “I could see it. You’ve gained something. Confidence maybe.”
“Thanks.”
“It doesn’t get easier just because the Integration confirmed something,” he added before picking up his pace, leaving her in the rearguard position.
Arv had been waiting for her, and Nara would later think he had been waiting for years.
He wasn’t alone. Monitor Cutter and Staff Sergeant Muir were with him. Arv was smiling, barely. The other two were stone-faced.
“Recruit Tholren, report!” Staff Sergeant Muir’s order was clear as the rest of the team moved toward the open-air structure where Fireteam George lounged on their kit-bags.
“Recruit Tholren, reporting as ordered,” she said as she stood before them. Arv’s hint of a smile was gone now.
The reflected light of the planet did not produce much heat, but Nara felt sweat from her hike down the hill roll down her cheek. She noticed Cutter noticing.
“Let’s move this someplace a bit more private,” her Monitor suggested. Staff Sergeant Muir gave a curt nod. They moved to a different shelter, really just four standard shelter panels forming a roof above fixed poles and a simple frame. There was a table with chairs set underneath the covering.
“Sit,” Muir commanded.
She dropped her kit bag and sat. Her back was straight. She registered the looks as the other three took chairs. Cutter next to her, and Arv and the Staff Sergeant across. At least it didn’t feel like some sort of tribunal.