Chapter 11 – Dropship Insertion School

Pride goes before destruction, And a haughty spirit before stumbling.

Proverbs 16:18

Landing on Rinart 3

The Dominion’s thrusters roared to life, signaling the final descent into Rinart 3’s atmosphere. Wade peered out the observation deck, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. This was it – the next step in his journey to become a Deep Space Ranger.

As the mammoth starship broke through the cloud cover, the sprawling expanse of the planetary training facilities of the Flight Academy came into view. Vast complexes of buildings and landing pads stretched across the verdant landscape, interconnected by a network of roads and transport rails. Lush green forests and fertile farmlands surrounded the military installation, a stark contrast to the barren dust bowl of Carthis 7. A small town, obviously supported by the military’s presence, housed the families and businesses catering to the needs of the personnel stationed here – a typical GI town.

Aircraft of all kinds making circuits over the immense starship port made it obvious to the casual observer that many pilots were in training. In the distance, Wade could make out the outlines of dropships and armored personnel carriers, no doubt utilized for simulated combat exercises against the backdrop of rolling hills and fields of grain swaying gently in the breeze.

A voice crackled over the ship’s intercom, announcing their imminent arrival. Wade turned to see Jay approaching, a warm smile on his face.

“You ready for this, brother?” Jay clapped him on the shoulder. “Dropship Insertion School is going to be no joke.”

Wade nodded, a confident grin spreading across his features. “I was born ready! After everything I’ve been through, this will be a cakewalk.”

Jay chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t get too cocky, my friend. I’m sure they have unique ways to put us through our paces”

A sudden realization dawned on Wade. “Wait, are you saying you’ll be joining me for DIS?”

“That’s right,” Jay replied, his expression turning serious. “I’m what they call a ‘walk-on’ for the Rangers.”

Wade’s brow furrowed in confusion. “A walk-on?”

“It means I’ve served over two years as a regular sailor with distinction,” Jay explained. “And I passed the grueling Ranger Selection Process – a four-week course designed to weed out anyone who isn’t ready for Ranger training.”

Wade let out a low whistle, impressed. The Ranger Selection process was renowned for its intensity, with a staggering 70% washout rate. For Jay, a junior enlisted sailor, to have not only attempted but succeeded at such an endeavor was nothing short of remarkable.

“I didn’t want to tell you before,” Jay admitted, a hint of sheepishness in his tone. “I was still trying to discern if this was God’s will for me. Our nightly prayer times played a big part in that confirmation.”

Wade clapped Jay on the back, a broad grin spreading across his face. “Bro, that’s incredible! I’m stoked to have you by my side for this next phase.”

Reunion

As the Dominion settled onto the landing pad with a gentle shudder, Wade caught sight of two familiar figures waiting to greet them – Alex and Briggs, his brothers in arms from the harrowing trials on Carthis 7.

“Wade!” Alex boomed, enveloping the younger Marine in a bear hug. “It’s good to see you, hermano!”

Briggs wrapped one arm around Wade’s shoulders and tugged at the rank on his sleeve, with his trademark grin in place. “Look at you, Private First Class! We’ve all stepped up a little since we last saw you.” Wade laughed, basking in the warmth of their camaraderie. He turned to introduce Jay, but the sailor had already stepped forward, extending his hand.

“Jay Ringler,” he said with a respectful nod. “Pleased to meet you both. Wade speaks highly of you guys”

Alex and Briggs exchanged a glance, their expressions a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“A sailor in the Ranger pipeline?” Briggs remarked, arching an eyebrow. “That’s the first I’ve heard of that!”

“Jay’s a walk-on for the Rangers,” Wade explained, unable to keep the pride from his voice. “He made it through the selection process.”

Alex gave a grunt of approval. “Yo, hermano. Impressive stuff, man.”

Briggs nodded in agreement before turning his attention back to Wade. “Listen, we’ve got to give you a heads up – DIS … they ain’t messin’ around. The instructors here are brutal in their own sadistic ways. They’re sticklers for details. They don’t have to haze you here. You make enough mistakes on your own to be doing push-ups from sunup to sundown. I’ve done more push-ups in three days here than all of Boot.”

“Dude, that’s because you ain’t the sharpest knife in the drawer bro.” Alex chimed in. They all laughed. “We’re three-quarters of the way through, and let me tell you, it’s been one rush after another. Better than the rollercoaster at Seven Banners on Jubilant VI.”

Wade felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. This was now familiar to him having been in the pressure cooker before. After everything he’d endured on Carthis 7, he thought he was more than ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

“Bring it on,” he declared, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “I’ve been through the wringer already. This should be a walk in the park.”

Jay, Alex and Briggs exchanged a knowing look, their expressions a mixture of amusement and concern.

“If you say so, Ese,” Alex said with a chuckle. “Just don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

As the group made their way towards the barracks, Wade couldn’t help but feel a sense of elation. He was surrounded by his brothers, united in their shared dream of becoming Rangers. And with Jay by his side too, he was brimming with confidence.

A Night on the Town

“Hey, listen,” Briggs broke in, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Since you won’t be starting DIS for another week, how about we show you around town? There are some great spots to let off some steam after a long day of training.”

Wade’s heart skipped a beat at the prospect of experiencing a taste of freedom, of pressing into his newfound adulthood. He opened his mouth to respond, but Jay beat him to the punch.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll spend some time in prayer and hit the rack early,” the sailor said, his tone respectful yet firm. “You all have fun.”

A pang of guilt gnawed at Wade’s conscience. He knew he should follow Jay’s example, especially in light of some of the things he was praying for. His walk with Jesus had become pretty meaningful. But the allure of camaraderie and a glimpse of civilian life proved too tempting.

“Nah, man, it’s all good,” Wade replied, forcing a nonchalant grin. “I’ll tag along with you guys. No sense in wasting my last week of freedom, right?”

Jay’s expression remained impassive, but Wade couldn’t help but detect a flicker of disappointment in his friend’s eyes. Nevertheless, the sailor simply nodded and excused himself. Wade followed Alex and Briggs to the main gate to catch an AeroRide.

As they ventured further into the town surrounding the military base, the quaint storefronts and family restaurants gave way to a seedier side of the local community. Neon signs flickered in the dimly lit streets, advertising bars, brothels, and other unsavory establishments.

Wade felt completely out of place as he witnessed the debauchery unfolding before his eyes. Drunken brawls erupted spontaneously, while shady deals were conducted in hushed tones in the shadowy alleyways. This open display of vice and moral decay was a harsh juxtaposition to the disciplined environment of the Marines.

He had heard rumors of such places existing on the outskirts of military installations, but the unabashed depravity still managed to shock him. The trio ducked into the first bar they found, not wanting to get too far from the moorings the base represented.

But as the evening wore on, Wade found himself swept up in a whirlwind of revelry. Alex and Briggs seemed intent on showing him the best that Rinart 3’s nightlife had to offer, from raucous bars to vibrant clubs pulsing with music and energy.

At first, Wade reveled in the newfound freedom, indulging in the thrill of adulthood without the constraints of military discipline. But as the hours ticked by, a nagging sense of guilt began to gnaw at him. He couldn’t help but wonder what Jay was doing. Wade knew he was off track and sure God wouldn’t be pleased with his choices.

The following morning, Wade awoke with a pounding headache and a churning stomach, the consequences of his overindulgence weighing heavily upon him. As he dragged himself out of bed, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed – not only for his actions but for the grief he knew he was causing his Lord.

Yet, as the day wore on and the evening approached, the cycle repeated itself. Alex and Briggs would come knocking, all grins and bravado, and Wade found himself powerless to resist the siren call of revelry.

Sunday morning arrived, and Wade slept in, ignoring his conscience that he should go to chapel. He knew he needed the fellowship and instruction, but the allure of rest and recovery from his week of carousing proved too strong.

Monday morning rolled around too quick. At 0545 he was standing in formation with 200 other Marines and sailors. Mostly Marine Regulars that would attend the first three weeks of training. He and his Ranger candidates would stay for another six weeks of indoctrination and drops for the Low Insertion part of the training. Wade thought to himself, “whatever that means.” Jay shoved his way next to Wade just as the First Sergeant stepped in front of the company. Wade couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret. He had allowed himself to be swept up in the moment, indulging in freedoms that had ultimately distracted him from his true purpose. But Jay’s expression was one of understanding and acceptance, reminding Wade that he had a friend. He had to do better. He would do better.

The First Sergeant belted, Company! Ahhhtennnn…shun!

The Demonstration

Sergeant Grimshaw marched the fresh crop of DIS candidates across the bustling military installation to an open field on the outskirts. “Fall out, Jellies, and take a seat in the bleachers!” he bellowed.

The new recruits, dubbed “Jellies” by their instructors, exchanged bewildered looks as they shuffled into the stands. What new torment awaited them during this phase of training? A hulking figure in the uniform of a Drop Sergeant stomped up to the portable podium and tapped the microphone, his jaw set in a perpetual scowl.

“Listen up, Jellies! Fix your eyes on those dropships!”

They squinted into the brilliant morning sunshine but saw nothing at first. Then, like a trio of metallic banshees, three massive armored dropships blazed by only 50 feet above their heads in tight V-formation. The deafening roar of their engines blasted the recruits, whipping some caps from their heads.

Gasps and curses erupted as the behemoth ships rapidly climbed at an impossibly steep angle, rolling over, belly-up first and then at 3,000 feet, they leveled out, sleek anvil shapes parallel to the ground.

A series of small explosions rippled along the flanks of the dropships as they disgorged a total of 36 individual pods. All but one descended in a controlled glide, retrorockets firing in sequence to guide them to designated landing zones scattered around the field. The remaining pod tumbled erratically, its rockets misfiring as it spun end-over-end, until it slammed into the hard-packed earth with a sickening crash. It skidded and rolled to a stop just yards from the front row, a crumpled, smoking heap of twisted metal.

The other pods touched down in unison, their simultaneous impacts shaking the ground. It was a choreographed dance of fire, metal, and billowing smoke. Marine assault teams instantly poured forth, weapons at the ready as they dropped into a defensive perimeter around the drop zone.

All except the lone crippled pod, which lay utterly still and lifeless amidst the chaos.

The three dropships hovered menacingly overhead like giant cobras poised to strike. In a display of pinpoint precision, they jetted forward as one and executed a vertical landing just 20 feet behind the perimeters established by the Marine assault teams. Their massive V-TOL engines kicked up choking clouds of dust and debris as they slowly cycled down.

A stunned silence fell over the recruits in the bleachers. Even the most brazen among them could only gape in awe at the spectacular show of cutting-edge flight and firepower they had just witnessed.

The Drop Sergeant allowed the tension to build for a few beats before breaking into a slow, approving clap. “Well done, Marines! Recover!” he barked,

Most of the Jellies quickly joined in the thunderous applause, whooping and hollering their approval. Others remained frozen, eyes wide, still trying to process the overwhelming assault on their senses.

First Sergeant Grimshaw stepped up to the podium, his face an inscrutable mask. “Jellies, you’ve just had the privilege of meeting your drop instructors,” he announced, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the heavily-armed Marines.

He let his words hang in the air as all eyes were drawn to the mangled, smoldering wreckage of the errant pod. Its grotesque form seemed to embody the ever-present specter of death that haunted these training exercises.

Grimshaw’s voice took on a menacing growl. “So…who wants to quit before we really get started?”

Twenty-five hands meekly rose. The first sergeant’s lips peeled back in a feral grin. “Sergeant Hayward, escort this worthless garbage heap out of my sight. Get them reassigned to something more…gentle. I don’t have time to mess with quitters”

The grim-faced Hayward snapped a crisp salute. “You heard the man, quitters! Fall out and form up on me!” He gestured contemptuously at the pitiful cluster of raised hands…

Dropship Familiarization

Wade giggled like a 3rd grader. Jay elbowed him to quit with his own excited grin from ear to ear.

First Sergeant Grimshaw continued, “Now we are down to 175 or so but that’s not the end of the blood letting. Give your attention to Drop Sergeant Schwarz!”

Sergeant Swartz double timed to the still smoldering defective drop pod. Pointing to it with his hand like a knife, he announced with contempt, “And this is why we call you Jellies! You fail to pay attention and follow each and every one of our extremely precise instructions and we’ll be spooning your remains out like strawberry jam to send back to your mammy. So until you graduate, Jellies, that’s your name. A not so subtle reminder that you better stay alert to stay alive. Now as for the unfortunate Marine inside this here pod, ain’t none! We just like to get your attention right up front and weed out the weak. Are there any questions, Jellies?

The whole bleachers erupted with, “No, Drop Sergeant!”

“Then let me tell you about the mighty Thunderhawk dropship…

The Thunderhawk is a flying armored personnel carrier capable of planetary insertion from high orbit or just above the trees. Its avian shape cuts through the atmosphere for extreme low-altitude hot drops behind enemy lines.

The hardened ceramic-steel nose can withstand scorching re-entry conditions. Twin laze-cannons below the cockpit provide anti-armor firepower.

Four massive plasma burn engines arranged at the corners give the Thunderhawk incredible thrust for high-speed aerial maneuvers and deceleration during drops. They also enable vertical takeoff and landing.

The main troop bay at the rear can carry 36 fully-equipped infantry in individual side drop pods with retrorockets. Alternatively, it can deploy vehicles directly into hostile zones.

For defense, the Thunderhawk has permacrete-busting cluster missiles, an ion cannon turret, ablative shielding, and electronic countermeasures to brave enemy airspace.

As for those drop pods,” Swartz explained, “they line the troop bay in rows of 6. These steel and ceramaplas coffins are open on one side with a reinforced outer cage. For standard deployments, we just drop ’em from 3,000 feet up so the personal retrorockets can do their job and you make a controlled landing.”

He shook his head. “But some of you who like living…or dying…on the edge, all you crazy Ranger candidates, will participate in five extreme low-altitude drops, commonly known as the “Crazy D.” The Thunderhawk comes in just 150 feet from the deck, really haulin’. There is no time for emergency procedures for the “Crazy D.” If anything goes wrong, you just crash and burn. You gotta be outta your mind to hit the ground and immediately engage the enemy like that.”

First Sergeant Grimshaw stepped in and looked out over the fresh-faced recruits. “Most of you will not see that level of training. It’s only for the Rangers. But let’s just worry about getting through the basic phase, eh. Everyone of you who makes it…well, you’ll be the toughest hombres in the galaxy!”

Jay and Wade smirked at one another, picturing themselves as elite operators. Most of the Jellies, however, suddenly felt very small and wondered what kind of nightmare they had signed up for.