Chapter 15 – “Crazy-D”

You made men ride over our heads;

We went through fire and through water,

Yet You brought us out into a place of abundance.

Psalm 66:12

The Disciple Maker

The Sunday morning sun cast a warm glow over the base as Wade and Jay made their way back from the chapel service. The past few weeks had been intense, filled with grueling simulations, physical training, and the five medium altitude drops that pushed them to their limits. But today, there was a lightness in their steps, a brief respite from the rigors of DIS.

As they walked, Jay glanced at his friend, noticing the subtle changes in Wade’s demeanor over the past weeks. There was a newfound calmness about him, a quiet confidence that seemed to have replaced his earlier bravado.

“Hey, Wade,” Jay began, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

Wade raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s on your mind, bro?”

Jay hesitated for a moment, then pressed on. “Well, I’ve noticed how your faith has been growing lately. It’s been pretty inspiring, actually. Have you been talking to God?

Wade was kind of surprised by the question, “Yeah, that’s what you taught me to do. I’ve also been reading my Bible before chow every day. Is there something else I should be doing?”

“No, I mean, yes…Do you believe that God loves you so much that He sent His Son, Jesus to the earth, lived a perfect life, and then died for all the things you’ve done wrong, your sins, I mean?”

“Yeah, of course. That’s what Chaplain Bronsen and you’ve been helping me understand.” Wade replied nonchalantly.

“So have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior?” Jay was excited but trying to hide his exuberance.

“I think so. After that little run in with Sergeant Schwarz, where he embarrassed me in front of everyone, I asked Jesus to help me not to be such a knucklehead and start calling the shots in my life.”

“You know I’ve noticed a radical change in your life” Jay said, “I was just wondering… have you thought about getting baptized?”

The question caught Wade off guard. He’d just been reading about Jesus’s baptism that morning and was shocked! Could Jay read his mind? “Honestly, I was just thinking about that this morning. Do you think I should!?”

Jay shrugged, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I mean, it’s really the first step after a person starts following Jesus. Maybe we could talk to the chaplain about it?”

Wade nodded, feeling a sudden sense of excitement at the idea. “Yeah, let’s do that. He should still be at the chapel.”

They turned back, quickening their pace. As they approached the chapel, they saw Chaplain Anderson just locking up the door.

“Chaplain!” Wade called out, slightly out of breath. “Do you have a moment?”

The chaplain turned to see them at attention, rendering him a sharp salute, a warm smile spreading across his weathered face and he returned their salute. “Of course, boys. What can I do for you?”

As they explained Wade’s recent conversion and their question about baptism, Chaplain Anderson’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Ah, I see. You’re wondering about the process and who can perform a baptism, right?”

Both Wade and Jay nodded eagerly.

The chaplain chuckled softly. “Well, you might be surprised to learn that you don’t need any special qualifications to baptize someone, other than being a disciple of Jesus yourself.”

Seeing their confused expressions, he continued, “Let me explain. Have you heard of the Great Commission?”

Wade and Jay exchanged glances, shaking their heads.

“It’s found in Matthew 28:18 through 20,” the chaplain explained. “Jesus said to His disciples, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And lo, I’m with you to the end of the age.'”

The chaplain’s voice took on a passionate tone as he continued, “You see, Jesus didn’t just command a select few to make disciples and baptize. This commission was given to all His followers. Every disciple is called to be a disciple-maker, and that includes baptizing others.”

Wade’s eyes widened in surprise. “So… Jay could baptize me?”

“Absolutely!” the chaplain nodded, smiling at Wade’s enthusiasm. “In fact, I think it would be a cool expression of your friendship and shared faith.”

Wade looked at Jay, a mixture of emotions playing across his face. “Would you… would you want to do that for me?”

Jay’s face broke into a nervous grin. “Well…I don’t know…”

Wade broke in, “Wait a minute buddy! If I’m going to obey Jesus by getting baptized, you’re going to obey Him by doing the baptizing!” glancing at the chaplain, “Am I right?”

The chaplain smiled and looked at Jay, “He’s got a point, you know?”

Jay straightened and pushed his shoulders back, “Of course! Let’s do it!”

Chaplain Anderson clapped his hands together. “Well then, what do you say we head down to the river? I can show you how it’s done and we can get Wade baptized right away.”

The three of them made their way to a secluded spot by the nearby river. The water sparkled in the late morning sun, a gentle current creating a soothing backdrop to the moment.

Chaplain Anderson waded into the shallow part of the river, motioning for Wade and Jay to join him. He demonstrated the proper technique, explaining how to support the person being baptized and the words to say.

As Wade stepped into the cool water, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. Jay stood beside him, a look of concentration on his face as he prepared for his role.

“Wade,” Jay began, his voice steady and clear, “do you believe in Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, and do you commit to following Him as your King for the rest of your life?”

“I do,” Wade replied, his voice filled with conviction.

Jay smiled, then spoke the words he’d just learned. “Then I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

With that, Jay lowered Wade into the water and quickly raised him back up. As Wade emerged, water streaming down his face, he felt an overwhelming sense of joy and renewal.

The three men made their way back to the shore, Wade’s utility uniform soaked but his spirit soaring. As they stood on the riverbank, Chaplain Anderson offered a prayer of blessing, and Wade felt like a new chapter was beginning in his life.

Fast and Furious

The morning of their first “Crazy-D” dawned with an eerie calm that belied the intense challenge ahead. Wade and Jay, along with the other Ranger candidates, gathered on the tarmac, their faces a mix of determination and barely concealed apprehension. The Thunderhawk dropship loomed before them, its engines already humming with latent power.

Sergeant Schwarz paced before the assembled recruits, his eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity. “Listen up, Rangers,” he barked, emphasizing the title they had yet to fully earn. “What you’re about to experience is the pinnacle of drop insertion technology. The Crazy-D is not for the faint of heart. You’ll be moving at Mach 3 and dropping from 150 feet – barely higher than some of the trees on this pitiful little oasis in this wartorn galaxy. You’ll have approximately two seconds of slow to a dead-stop and two seconds of freefall before your retro-thrusters kick in. Those four seconds will feel like an eternity.”

Wade’s heart raced as he absorbed the sergeant’s words. He glanced at Jay, seeing his own nervousness mirrored in his friend’s eyes. They had trained for this, pushed their bodies to the limit in the XG-9000, but nothing could truly prepare them for the reality of a Crazy-D.

As they boarded the Thunderhawk, the tension was palpable. The interior of the dropship felt claustrophobic, the air heavy with the collective anxiety of the recruits. Wade strapped himself into the troop seats across from his pod. As the Thunderhawk’s engines roared to life, the interior of the dropship buzzed with controlled chaos. The Load Master, a seasoned navy veteran with nerves of steel, moved with practiced efficiency through the cramped space. His hands flew over control panels, eyes scanning readouts with lightning speed as he ensured every system was primed for the intense maneuvers ahead.

Giving a thumbs up to Schwarz, he shouted “All systems green, Drop Master!” the Load Master kept his balance steady despite the building G-forces as the ship lifted from the tarmac. “Pods secured and ready for deployment.”

The two Marine Safeties, their movements precise and deliberate, performed last-minute checks on each recruit’s equipment. They moved from one Marine to another, their experienced eyes catching even the smallest discrepancy.

“Harness secure, private?” one Safety growled, giving Wade’s straps a final, bone-jarring tug. “Remember your training and you might just survive this.”

As the Thunderhawk gained altitude, Sergeant Schwarz took his position near the rear of the ship. His face was a mask of stern concentration, eyes flickering between the recruits and the status displays.

The Load Master’s voice chimed in, “Mach 3 achieved, sir. Commencing deceleration maneuver in six minutes.”

Schwarz nodded, his voice taking on a rhythmic cadence honed by years of drop insertions. “Six minutes!” his voice rang out holding up both hands, displaying his fingers to indicate the number six.

“Outboard personnel, stand up!”

Those closest to the sides of the ship rose, their movements crisp despite the nervous energy permeating the air.

“Inboard personnel, stand up!”

The rest of the recruits got to their feet, including Wade and Jay. Schwarz’s eyes scanned the rows of tensed Marines, looking for any sign of hesitation.

“Enter drop pods!”

With practiced motions, they climbed into their respective pods. The Safeties moved swiftly, double-checking each recruit’s equipment and readiness.

“Check straps and data!”

Wade’s hands moved almost on autopilot, running through the pre-drop checklist with meticulous care. Each action was deliberate, a desperate attempt to maintain focus and keep the fear at bay, verifying his harness and scanning the readouts on his pod’s display.

“Green if you’re OK!”

A series of clicks echoed through the ship as the recruits signaled their readiness. The Load Master shouted wiith two thumbs up, “All pods showing green, Drop Master!”

As the Thunderhawk streaked towards the drop zone, Wade felt the immense speed deep in his bones. The dropship was pushing Mach 3, far beyond anything he had experienced in the previous drops. The raw power of its advanced engines vibrated through the hull, a constant reminder of the incredible velocity they were reaching.

“30 Seconds!” The Navy Load Master bellowed.

Schwarz’s voice took on a ting of excitement that was rare for the hardened veteran. “30 Seconds! Prepare for deceleration and drop! Rangers, we’re about to hit the brakes!”

Wade barely had time to tense his muscles before the world turned upside down. The Thunderhawk’s nose suddenly pitched up at an impossible angle, the VTOL engines screaming as they fired at full power to counteract their forward momentum. The abrupt deceleration slammed Wade back into his seat with crushing force, far beyond anything they had experienced in training.

G-forces mounted rapidly, pressing Wade’s body into the padding of his drop pod. His fingers tightened on his harness, his jaw clenched as he began his Anti-G Straining Maneuver. He could hear the labored breathing of his fellow recruits, each fighting their own battle against fear and physiology. His vision narrowed, dark spots dancing at the edges as the blood struggled to reach his brain. Even with his G-suit and AGSM techniques, Wade felt consciousness slipping away.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, the Thunderhawk leveled out with whiplash-inducing speed. For a split second, there was complete silence…

Wade felt weightless, his stomach lurching as if he were on some nightmarish roller coaster.

Then came the deafening explosions as the drop pods shot out of the Thunderhawk in rapid succession. As Wade’s capsule cleared the ship, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the ground rushing up to meet him. The entire maneuver, from high-speed approach to pod deployment, had taken mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity of physical punishment.

Now in freefall, Wade had precious little time to recover from the Thunderhawk’s brutal deceleration before facing the pod’s own retro-thrusters. His body, already stressed from the ship’s maneuver, now had to endure another round of punishing G-forces. Then, reality set in. The ground was approaching at a terrifying speed, the landscape below a blur of greens and browns. Wade’s mind screamed in panic, every instinct telling him this was wrong, that he was plummeting to his doom. Four seconds. That’s all it was supposed to be. But those four seconds stretched into an eternity of pure, unadulterated fear.

Wade’s vision began to narrow, dark spots creeping in from the edges as the G-forces threatened to overwhelm him. He grunted through his AGSM, forcing air against his closed glottis, willing his body to keep fighting.

Just as he thought he couldn’t take anymore, the retro-thrusters ignited. The deceleration hit like a freight train, crushing Wade into his seat with a force that threatened to squeeze the very life out of him. Nine Gs of deceleration – more than twice what they had experienced in their medium-altitude drops.

Wade’s world became a haze of pain and disorientation. His ears rang, his vision swam, and every muscle in his body screamed in protest. Yet, through it all, a small part of his mind clung to consciousness, repeating the mantra drilled into them during training: “Stay awake, stay alert, stay alive!”

The pod slammed into the ground with bone-jarring force, the impact reverberating through Wade’s body despite the advanced shock absorption systems. For a moment, he sat there, dazed and gasping for breath, his mind struggling to comprehend that he had survived.

Then, training kicked in. With trembling hands, Wade released his harness and activated the pod’s exit mechanism. The front panel fell away, revealing the drop zone beyond. On shaky legs, he emerged, rifle at the ready, scanning for threats as he had been trained to do.

Around him, other pods were landing, his fellow recruits emerging in various states of disorientation. Wade caught sight of Jay, relief flooding through him as he saw his friend was okay. They exchanged a brief thumbs up, no words necessary to convey the shared trauma they had just endured. They had just experienced a drop insertion that pushed the boundaries of human physiology and advanced technology. They all dropped into the prone forming a security perimeter.

Sergeant Schwarz’s voice cut through the tactical silence, “Form up, Rangers! Clear the fog out of your little blood soaked brains!”

As they assembled, Wade could see the toll the drop had taken on his fellow recruits. Faces were pale, some tinged with green, and more than a few sported nosebleeds from the extreme G-forces. Yet, there was also an unmistakable sense of accomplishment in the air. They had faced the Crazy-D and survived.

Sergeant Schwarz, looking unusually animated, strode among them. “And that, Rangers, was your first Crazy-D! It’s not just about the drop – it’s about surviving the entire insertion process. Welcome to the bleeding edge of combat deployment!”

As the reality of what they had just endured sank in, Wade exchanged a look with Jay. Their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and exhilaration, both realized that this was just the first of five such drops. The path to becoming Rangers had taken on a new level of intensity. One down, four to go.

As they prepared for extraction, Wade and the rest of the Ranger candidates remained silent and in a daze of pride and exhaustion. He thought to himself, “On a real combat drop they’d be knee deep in a fight with the Skravaks.” A chill went up his spine.

The Thunderhawk descended to pick them up, its engines drowning out his thoughts. As they boarded for the return trip, Wade felt a mix of weakness and nausea. But he had faced his fears, pushed his body to its limits, and come out the other side. Four more drops awaited, each promising to be as intense as the first. But now, having tasted the Crazy-D, Wade knew he was ready for whatever came next.

Last Four Low Altitude Drops

The euphoria of completing their first Crazy-D was short-lived. As Wade and Jay prepared for their second drop, a palpable tension hung in the air. The grueling nature of these insertions was taking its toll on everyone, both physically and mentally.

Their second drop came fast and furious. As the Thunderhawk screamed towards the drop zone at Mach 3, Wade felt his heart pounding in his chest. The deceleration hit like a hammer blow, but this time he was ready. Gritting his teeth through his Anti-G Straining Maneuver, he fought to maintain consciousness as the pod shot from the ship.

The freefall seemed to last an eternity, the ground rushing up at terrifying speed. When the retro-thrusters kicked in, Wade’s world became a haze of crushing force and disorientation. But he held on, focused on his training, and before he knew it, he was on the ground, shaky but triumphant.

As the recruits regrouped, Wade caught sight of Jay emerging from his pod, looking pale but grinning. They had both made it through their second Crazy-D. One step closer to their goal.

The recruits were in high spirits as they boarded the Thunderhawk, confidence growing with each successful insertion. By the third drop, it was just another day at the office. It just so happened that the “office” was moving at mach 3 and then pulling 9 Gs before slamming into the ground. Yup, just another day at the office…for a Ranger.

However, during the fourth drop, disaster struck. The morning had dawned clear and calm, perfect conditions for a Crazy-D. Wade was strapped into his pod, running through his pre-drop checklist, when he heard a commotion from the other side of the bay. Private Ashford, a quiet but capable recruit, was having trouble with his data. One of the Marine Safeties moved to assist him, but time was short. The drop sequence had already begun.

As the Thunderhawk was at Mach 3 and began its deceleration maneuver, Wade heard Sergeant Schwarz’s voice over the comms, tense but controlled: “Abort drop for pod 7. Repeat, abort drop for pod 7.”

But it was too late. The pods deployed in rapid succession, including Ashford’s. As Wade’s own pod shot out from the Thunderhawk, he caught a glimpse of pod 7 tumbling erratically, its trajectory all wrong.

The impact was catastrophic. A bone-jarring shockwave had ripped through the pod, and Ashford’s spine had compressed, crushing three vertebrae, and severing his spinal cord. Pain had exploded through his body, then… nothing. He only felt a horrifying numbness envelop his lower half as the pod’s emergency systems blared to life.

The next few minutes were a blur of freefall and crushing deceleration as Wade’s own pod made its descent. But as soon as he touched down, he knew something was terribly wrong. Emergency vehicles were already speeding towards a crumpled pod about a hundred meters away.

The haunting silence that followed was shattered by the sudden, deafening roar of the med-evac’s thrusters firing. Wade’s heart leapt into his throat as he realized only half of Ashford’s retro-thrusters had ignited. Time seemed to slow as he watched the crumpled pod, its polished titanium hull, designed to withstand the intense heat of atmospheric re-entry, now terrifyingly fragile.

Corpsmen in matte black exo-suits swarmed the damaged pod, their movements precise despite the urgency. Plasma cutters hissed and sparked as they carved through the twisted metal. More corpsmen stood by, grav-stretcher at the ready, their faces grim behind clear visors.

As they pulled Ashford’s shattered body from the wreckage, the harsh truth became clear: he was paralyzed from the waist down. In an instant, the young private’s bright future in the Corps had been tragically halted, leaving him with a life-altering injury that would reshape his path forever.

The Last Low Drop

The incident cast a pall over the entire platoon. That night, Wade and Jay sat in tense silence, neither willing to voice the fear that gnawed at their guts. They had known the risks when they signed up, but Ashford’s accident had made those risks terrifyingly real.

“You think he’ll walk again?” Jay finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wade shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, man. But if anyone can pull through this, it’s Ashford. Guy’s tough as nails.”

Dawn broke, pale and cold, as Wade and Jay suited up. Their movements were mechanical, muscle memory taking over where conscious thought faltered. The march to the flightline felt like a walk to the gallows. Wade and Jay were both praying silently to themselves for God’s protection. If it wasn’t serious enough before, it was now.

The next morning, Sergeant Schwarz gathered the recruits. His face was grim as he addressed them. “What happened yesterday was a tragedy,” he began. “But it’s also a reality of what we do. Every time we step into those pods, we’re putting our lives on the line. Remember the first part of your creed.” Schwarz stated quoting the first stanza of the Ranger’s Creed, “Recognizing I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession…”

He paused, his eyes scanning the group. “Now, I know you’re all shaken up. That’s normal. But we’ve got a job to do. Ashford would want us to keep going. So that’s exactly what we’re going to do. We’re going to finish what we started. There is no quit in you! Understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, Drop Sergeant!” rang out, more subdued than usual but no less determined. As the Thunderhawk hovered into position to load, Sergeant Schwarz yelled over the din, “Show me what you’ve got, Rangers!”

This time, fate smiled upon them. The drop went flawlessly, textbook in every way. As their boots touched solid ground, Wade and Jay exchanged a look of profound relief. They had nailed it. But the shadow of what happened to Ashford would linger, a stark reminder of the razor’s edge they walked as Rangers.

Extreme High-Altitude Insertions

The following week saw the recruits diving into the complexities of over-atmosphere operations. Classroom sessions alternated with simulations, sharpening their understanding of extreme high-altitude insertions to a razor’s edge.

Instructors drilled into them the unique challenges of operating in zero gravity. “Up there,” Sergeant Schwarz growled, tapping a holographic display, “there is no up or down. Your instincts will try to betray you. You need to rewire your brains, understand movement in three dimensions at all times.”

They learned the intricacies of their suits’ oxygen systems, the critical importance of managing their air supply. “You’ve got 30 minutes,” Tech Specialist Rodriguez explained. “After that, you’re breathing vacuum. And trust me, that’s not a pleasant way to go.”

But it was the precision landing techniques that truly captured the recruits’ attention. Sergeant Schwarz took particular pride in explaining the pinpoint accuracy achievable from the edge of space.

“Watch and learn, Rangers,” he grinned, queuing up telemetry from previous drops. “From low altitude, we can put you within 50-60 meters of your target. Mid-altitude narrows that to 4-5 meters. But from up high? We can stack five pods on a doughnut.”

The recruits watched in awe as the data played out, five separate drop pods converging on a single point with laser precision. Schwarz’s eyes gleamed with pride. “It’s all about time, boys and girls. The longer we’ve got to work with the retros, the tighter we can dial it in.”

As the week progressed, the recruits found themselves spending more time in the simulators, practicing zero-G maneuvers and running through countless drop scenarios. The pressure was intense, but a new determination had settled over the platoon. Ashford’s accident had shaken them, yes, but it had also hardened their resolve. They were determined to master these skills, to minimize the risks as much as humanly possible.

Finally, the day came for their extreme high-altitude drops. The tension in the air was thick as the recruits suited up, each lost in their own thoughts. Wade found himself running through checklists in his head, a mantra of safety protocols and emergency procedures. Jay’s face was set in grim determination, his usual wimcycle smile noticeably absent.

The ascent seemed to take an eternity. As the drop ship climbed higher and higher, the curve of the planet became visible through small viewports. It was a breathtaking sight, but one that held a new, terrifying significance for the recruits. They were about to fall from the very edge of space.

Schwarz’s voice crackled over the comms, uncharacteristically encouraging. “Remember your training. Trust your equipment. Trust yourselves. You’ve got this.”

As Schwarz worked through the drop procedures and commands, the Ranger candidates each entered their pods. The actual separation from the dropship was anticlimactic as retros fired and the blue planet below loomed large.

The first moments were always the most disorienting. The utter silence of space, the weightlessness, the dizzying vista of an entire planet spread out beneath them. But training took over, and soon the recruits were plummeting toward the planet with a growing sense of peace as they had learned to trust their training.

Re-entry came in a burst of heat and light, the pods’ heat shields glowing cherry red as they knifed through the atmosphere. Gentle G-forces pressed the recruits into their acceleration seats as the planet rushed up to meet them.

Then, with clockwork precision, retro-thrusters fired. The pods slowed their descent, adjusting course with minute bursts of power. Altitude indicators ticked down rapidly: 1000 meters, 500, 100…

Impact. Thirty simultaneous thuds as the pods touched down in a perfect pentagon formation, mere meters apart. For a moment, silence reigned. Then, as hatches popped open and the recruits emerged on sturdy legs, plopping down in prone positions forming their security perimeter. They had done it.

As the adrenaline faded, a new sense of accomplishment settled over the platoon. They had mastered incredibly complex skills, and came out the other side stronger for it. Wade and Jay bumped fists, grinning despite their exhaustion. “Not bad for a couple of ground-pounders,” Jay quipped, some of his old humor returning.

Wade nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Thank You Jesus.”

The last four high altitude drops were more like a sightseeing tour in space than a military insertion. But each recruit knew better than to let their guard down and be overconfident. After the last drop, they waited for retrieval from the Thunderhawk, the recruits gathered in a tight circle, sharing quiet words of congratulation and support. They had entered this training as individuals. They were emerging as a tight knit unit, forged in the crucible of shared danger and triumph. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

Sergeant Schwarz approached with a wooden box and barked, “Form up Rangers!” As the recruits scrambled into formation, their faces flushed with a mix of triumph and relief, Sergeant Schwarz stood in front of the Marines. His stern expression cracked into a rare smile. “Congratulations, Rangers. You’ve just completed one of the most demanding insertion protocols in the galaxy. You’ve faced fear, you’ve faced tragedy, and you’ve come out stronger.” He opened the box exposing gold drop wings for each graduate. He handed them to another Drop Sergeant to assist him and stepped in front of the first recruit.

“Rangers, you will notice these are no ordinary drop wings. They aren’t the silver ones for Marine Regulars, they are pure gold, worn only by Marines who have the guts to pursue the prestigious next step in becoming a Ranger. Most of you won’t make it but no one can ever take these babies away from you! Wear these with pride.” Schwarz took the clasps off of the pins that held them secure to the Marine uniform, pinned the wings above the first Ranger candidate’s left breast pocket. Then with a sudden violent punch, he slammed the half inch pins into the Marines chest penetrating the flesh. The Marine didn’t budge or wince. This was the proud tradition of receiving “blood wings” set by paratroopers from the ancient days.

Schwarz continued down the line to Jay and then to Wade. As he pinned the wings on Wade’s chest, he said in a low and almost imperceptible whisper, “Proud of you son. You’re no longer a quitter.” Then he punched Wade’s wings into his chest with an approving grin.

That vote of confidence meant more to Wade than the wings themselves.

The Thunderhawk descended to retrieve them, its engines drowning out the subdued chatter of the recruits. Soon, they would be whisked away to their next round of training, the next set of seemingly impossible tasks to master. But for now, standing on soil they had reached from the very edge of space, these young men and women allowed themselves a moment of pride. They were no longer just recruits. They were becoming the elite Marines the Corps demanded, ready to be inserted with surgical precision anywhere in the galaxy.

Wade and Jay exchanged a look of shared accomplishment tinged with anxiety as they settled into the troop seats of the dropship. They had faced their fears, pushed their bodies to the absolute limit, and come out stronger on the other side. They were prepared for the next phase of their training – Deep Space Ranger School. 

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