Learning Curve
By: BC Deloso

  Disclaimer: This story is based upon the characters and concepts of the Saber Rider and the Star Sheriffs cartoon and all characters of that cartoon are owned by New World Events Production. They are borrowed ‘without’ permission.  

Chapter II: In Training    

“Move, move, move!!!”
 Saber and John ran side by side as they prepared to pass the huge logs that where blocking their path to reach the end of the obstacle course. It was 0600 hours, and breakfast was an hour more. They had awoken by sounds of nasty bells and the shouts of commanding officers that mercilessly hauled anyone who they saw still on their bunks. They had fixed their beds, took a cold shower and dressed up in uniform in less than an hour and reported back for inspection. Five out of the thirty men in the quarters received an early morning push-up as their greeting either for not meeting the military standards in tucking their uniforms or not meeting the standards of fixing their beds.
Behind the perspiring Saber and John, two other cadets rushed to keep their balance and not to lose pace with the two frontrunners. Sparing a quick look at his back, he saw four other cadets beginning their first run of the course, trying desperately to outdo the other.
 Looking forward, Saber lifted himself up one of the logs, dropping down on the soft ground on both feet then repeating the same process over and over. Grunting as he exerted all of his remaining energy on finish the task at hand, he though he heard John curse softly. Not having the time to look at his friend, Saber cleared the last of the logs then made a mad dash to gain momentum as he lunched himself to the air, catching one of the four ropes tied to a wooden log above them. Swinging past the mud below, he landed in the manmade ramp, running the last few legs before reaching the finish line.
 Panting with exhaustion, he glanced at the people trailing him, seeing John coming in a few seconds after him. Sweat dripping softly on the ground, Saber glanced at one of the officers that watched the men pass through the finish line, marking down their time and God knows what else.
 “Damn,” John muttered under his breath as he held his right ankle.
 Saber looked at him, concern registering on his face, “You okay chum?”
 “I mistimed my jump back their on the logs. I had one nasty fall, only consolation was I didn’t lose my balance,” John said with a grunt.
 “You should get that checked, I’ll call Med,” Saber said but John stopped him with a hand on his arm.
 “I’ll be okay. Don’t want to get on the bad side of the Sergeant at such an early hour,” John said with a half-hearted smile, then nodded to the direction of the starting line, “It’s him you should look out for, not me,”
 Saber looked at where John indicated and saw that David Hartley was up next, and by the looks of it, he was more than a little nervous.
 “Don’t worry, he’ll do it,” John echoed as Saber looked back at him, as he stood straight, seemingly feeling no pain from his hurting ankle.
 An uncertain look descended on Saber’s handsome face as he watched Hartley make his first run towards the obstacle path. The first obstacle was the tire run, as 10 rows of tires lay flat on the ground, reminding him of football training. Hartley seemed to falter on the last two rows, but he managed to keep up with the others. The “log walk” was next, with one the edges of one log supported by man-made platforms ten feet away from each other. One wrong step would lead to the cadet dropping 3 feet to the mud pile below.
 Saber winced as Hartley almost lost his balance, crouching down almost immediately to use his hands to balance him again. After a few seconds he continued the other cadets ahead of him by a few seconds. Slowly but surely, Hartley passed the “log walk” and made a mad dash for the ten logs that blocked there paths, with jumping over it the only way to get pass them. He cleared the first few logs without a hitch but on the fifth log, he yelped and fell flat on the ground, head first.
 Saber was inclined to run out and help him, but found out that he was held back by John’s hand. A silent conversation ensued and Saber reluctantly stood rooted to his spot as he watched Hartley try to shake off the effect of his fall. Collin’s was, unfortunately beside him in the next instant.
 “What kind of a would be soldier are you? Get up and run! Get over those logs! Are you just gonna sit there are cry for your mama? Move move move!” Collins booming voice echoed.
 Hartley did as he was told, barely jumping pass the next few logs, and soon only one log separated him from the dash to the rope and the last run to the finish line. He was the only one left of the four that started out. Other cadets waited in line patiently, watching with silent cheers that Hartley would finish the course.
 The next few seconds came by slowly, as Hartley finally made it past the last log and ran with all of his remaining strength to swing over the mud pile. With one giant leap, Hartley grabbed the rope, swung past and fell down on his knees, away from the mud pile.  A cheer erupted from the cadets, but was quickly silenced with one cold stare from their Drill Sergeant’s. With a sudden burst of speed, Hartley had crossed the finish line, panting desperately to try to regain his breath, his hands clutched near his heart.
 Collins signaled for the others to continue, and soon the obstacle path was again filled with cadets. John walked up to the panting man and offered his hand, with Saber looking on.
 “Nice job, need a hand?” John asked.
 “That would be nice,” Hartley answered, looked up with a soft smile and reached for the offered hand. John hauled him up and patted him on the back.
 “Nice recovery, we knew that you would be able to finish it chum,” Saber commented.
 “Uh-thanks,” David said with renewed spirits.
 “I’m John and he’s Saber,” John said as introductions.
 “David. David Hartley,” David said as he politely offered his hand. Both men took his offered hand and shook it.
 “Don’t worry, we know you,” John said with a grin.
 “Sorry about what happened with the push-ups,” David said, cringing.
 John waved the apology away, “Don’t worry, I needed the extra exercise. So did Saber here,”
 “Quite right chum,”
 A shout echoed from afar and the three turned to see Collin pointing to the next area of the training ground.
 “Guess he won’t cut us some slack,” John said with a soft grin, “Shall we?”
 With a smile mixed with weariness, David followed his two platoon mates to the next set of drills.    Dawn. They were awoken at the same time as always, but this time it was different. A few weeks of being in training had toughened them up, and this was going to be the first day of their live ammunitions training. Saber and John had no problem with shooting a gun, both being above average shooters, but they had discovered that David was more than a bit scared of a gun, for reasons they did not know.
 They were each given a XYR-72 rifle, a new prototype that looked like the old M-16 and shotgun combined. Its punching power was next to unbelievable. John held his rifle like a though hunter, determined and confident. Wiping his brow with the back palm of his hand, John glanced ahead, trying to study the 100 yard targets that seem like chicken-feed to him.
 A few meters from his left, John could make out the blond locks of his friend and bunkmate, Saber, who in turn was intent in studying his firearm. ‘He’ll make a good hunter’, John thought to himself. From the distance, he could hear other cadets beginning their practice drills with the gun, firing off a few shots to get the feel of it.
 John watched as the Drill sergeant walked by a few of his squadron mates, checking their gears as well as their knowledge of the gun. Finally, Collins stopped, looked at the long line, then boomed.
 “Alright people, this is the shooting range! I want all of you to aim your guns and fire at will! I expect all of you to know how to use these guns. Treat them as if they were your own children, for if anything happens to them, I’ll be damn sure that the same thing will happen to you!”
 John smirked. Collins never did have the gift for public speaking. Sighing, he checked his gun again, walked up towards the mound, laid down, aimed and squeezed the trigger. Other’s followed suit.
 Beside him, he could see the small, new edition Pact Master, used to log in the amount of shots he used as well as the timing in between shots. He guessed that this new and improved edition also analyzed scores.
 He fired off a few more rounds, concentrating deeply as his eyes sought the bulls-eye. The trick to precise shooting was not thinking of hitting the center but just concentrating of hitting the target itself, and one’s skill with the gun will actually hand them the bulls-eye.
 His 20-shells soon became empty, and he stood up, dusted his clothes and waited for inspection. Collins moved briskly from where he stood towards him, flanked by one of his assistants.
 “That was quick cadet,” Collins said as his assistant showed him the timer, “Less than 30 seconds,”
 John smirked as Collins brought his binoculars up to his eyes and viewed his target, “Let’s see how well you did,”
 John waited patiently. He already knew how he did.
 “Well, well. Seems like we’ve got a hotshot here,” Collins said as he withdrew his eyes from the binoculars, “You’ve got one hell of a shooting arm cadet,”
“Thank you sir,” John answered.
 “You might be of some use to us when graduate after all,” Collin added, glanced again at the target, gave out a forced-smile then moved away.
 
 David saw the exchange between his drill sergeant and friend a few meters away. He had been separated from his would-be-friends by Collin’s and placed under the watchful eye of the assistant sergeant who was a few meters away, watching other cadets under his location. They’re original number of 30 cadets had grown to 60 after assigning another squad under Collin. He sighed as started to reload his gun and wait for further orders to commence shooting. He had read his scores over and was disappointed with his results. He never was fond of guns, nor was he an admirer of the science of shooting. In fact, he was afraid of guns. He shrugged away the painful memories and concentrated on the present. Glancing back at his two friends, he couldn’t help it as a feeling of envy wash over him. They were exceptional men, with skill that could very well get them on top at such a young age. He had neither skill nor talent.
 Sighing, he stood in attention, shoulders slumped as he contemplated his miserable existence so far. Here he was, trying to become someone important but failing miserably. He had no speed, no sharp-shooting abilities nor strength. Resting his rifle on his shoulders, he glanced around catching short glimpses of the men he trained with. All he could see were the faces of his tormentors and the faces of the men who paid no attention to him whatsoever.
 The past few weeks had made him tougher, and for some reasons, he had found that his heart was getting stronger. He no longer felt the pain every night after training, nor the difficulty in catching his breath after a tiring exercise. That was the only thing good he had going for himself right now, plus the fact that he was no longer clumsy when it comes to the obstacle course.
 The signal to recommence shooting was given, and he found himself instinctively dropping to the ground, rifle aimed and one eyes closed. Concentrating on getting his sights on the center target, he fired. Once, twice, thrice.
 Each shot rang out amidst the plain, and to him it seemed as if only his shot was heard as it echoed around, bouncing off small hilltops and bouncing back to his eardrums in full force. Everything seem to dull out as he continued to fire off his rounds, and all he could see was the target that seemed to come alive all of a sudden, turning into a boy in his teens.
 He finished his clip without knowing it, as he unconsciously kept pulling the trigger. A rough yank from his back caused him to return to reality.
 “When you’re ordered to stand your guard, you will comply! Do you understand me cadet?” Sergeant Vic Ford scolded as he pushed him towards the line.
 The sudden jerk back to reality caused him to almost lose his balance once he was pushed amidst the lined up cadets. He regained his balance almost instantly, but it was too late. Collin was just a few meters away.
 “What’s this? Someone who just seems to have no remorse whether he is breaking my rules or not?”
 David gulped down the fear and the anger that was building up inside of him. It never fails, he was always the target of this man’s contempt.
 “When I give you the signal to stand down, when I order you to line up, you will do so immediately! I don’t care whether you are caught with your pants down or whether you’re still stark naked, you will do as I tell you to do,” Collin said, punctuating each word with a stab of his finger on David’s chest.
 Hitting David on the back with his baton, “You are to stand up straight,” tilting up his chin roughly with it, “With your chin held high,” hitting him on the chest, “Chest out,” then his hands, “And keep a firm grip on the butt of the rifle!”
 “I assume you will be able to remember such a simple thing like that, Cadet Hartley?” Collin said, his voice low but with a menacing tone. His eyes twinkled with mischief.
 “Yes sir!” Hartley answered almost instinctively his hand tightening its hold of his rifle.
 Collin gave him one last look then continued his inspection of the line.
 “Now that all of you have finally gotten acquainted with your standard issue rifle, I expect you now understand why it is necessary for all of you why you have to even go through this stage in training,
 “These guns will be your life-savers, for in battle no one will stop to think before hey pull the trigger at you. You will fire back, without hesitation, without thought. Hesitation will lead to death, doubts will lead to insanity. You are given the right to aim and fire at anyone who aims and fire his or her weapon at you. There is no room for morality in combat people,
 “Now, I want all of you to sleep with your rifles. Get intimate with them,” Collin said as he surveyed the entire line. Nodding towards the sergeant in charge, he began to move away.
 “Alright, left face!” he shouted and it was instantly followed by a loud “thud” as the cadets obeyed his command, “Commence march!”
 The dust began to rise as boots scuffled on the ground, leaving only a cloud of dust as evidence of the people who had just vacated the area.    Saber sat on his bunk, a cloth dangling on his left hand as he checked his rifle. Finding a spot that he hadn’t cleaned yet, he ran the cloth over it and after a few minutes of more careful inspection, he smiled appreciatively and placed the cloth on top of his bed, where some pieces of his rifle were carefully laid out.
 He had gotten accustomed to cleaning his rifle every night, after an hour or so of target shooting. There was still about an hour or so before lights out, and Saber wanted to do something else than join in on the others nightly poker. Glancing at the huddled men near the end of the room, he spotted John dealing out the cards.
 Shaking his head at the otherwise happy expression etched on his friend’s face, Saber guessed that he was winning...too much. With a soft smile, he returned his attention to refitting the several parts of his rifle.
 A shadow that loomed over him made him glance up from his work, and meet the gaze of a grinning David Hartley.
 “I guess you’ve taken a liking to your rifle since you seem to spend most of your free time cleaning it,” David said at an attempt to spark up a conversation.
 “Well, you know what the sergeant said, the more you become familiar with your rifle, the better the chance that you’ll actually survive an encounter,” Saber answered.
 “Yeah, well...I guess,” David answered sheepishly. He opened his mouth to ask something, but closed it again almost immediately.
 Saber caught his hesitation almost immediately. Putting his work aside for awhile, he nodded, “Okay, what’s wrong?”
 “Well...I...um...I’ve actually wondered if you would, help me out,” David said sheepishly as he sat down at the bunk in front of his friend.
 Saber made a gesture with his hand for him to continue, “You see...I’m not really...skilled in these kind of stuff. I was wondering if you could give me a hand sometimes, you know...like helping me actually find the target when shooting?”
 With a friendly grin, he nodded, “I guess that won’t be a problem. I’m a bit surprised though. John is more qualified to teach you. He’s the regular hotshot when it comes to shooting,”
 “To tell you frankly Saber, I’m a little bit...uncomfortable when it comes to asking John for anything. I mean, I like him and all and I think he’s great, but I’m more comfortable talking to you about this than John,” David exclaimed.
 Saber smiled softly and studied the young man before him. John did have that tendency to make people feel aloof around him. He remembered the bus ride where they met, he seemed friendly enough...too friendly sometimes, but there was something about him that you couldn’t exactly place that made you become wary of him. Nevertheless, he had found him a good friend and someone you would want in your side when trouble erupts.
“Anything else I could do for you aside from teaching you the basics of target shooting?”
 “Well, um...how about any...future special training?”
 Saber nodded, “You got it chum,”
 With a smile, David answered, “That was...rather easy,”
 “What are friends for?” Saber countered, “Besides, all of us should be helping out each other, we are a ‘unit’. Only way for us to succeed is for all of us to work together,”
 David nodded.
 A loud curse from the direction of the poker players caused the two to turn, seeing the big frown of a certain black haired hunter.
 “Sorry John, guess your luck ran out,” the lucky winner said, placing the crisp pieces of money on his side, “Well, I guess that’s it for me,” he added with a wry grin.
 “Hey no fair! Let me at least get a chance to win back my money!” John argued.
 “I think you’ve had enough for today,” The winner, a bloke named Rick Fallow answered, waving his hand in dismissal.
 John frowned. There was something very suspicious about the way the cuffs of Rick’s long sleeved uniform hugged his wrist. Studying Rick’s moments for a while, he reached out immediately, holding Rick’s hand tightly.
 “What do you say I take a look at what you got inside your cuffs,” John said.
 Rick forced his hand out of the tight grip, then pointed a menacing finger in front of John’s face.
 “Are you calling me a cheat?” Fallow inquired as a few of the men nearby flocked towards his back.
 “I think I am. I think you know that too,” John replied as he watched Fallow’s “underlings” stand behind the their man.
 Like a blur, Fallow threw a quick roundhouse punch, missing his target by mere inches as John threw overturned the table between them. The room was soon filled with activity as some that sided with Fallow tried to subdue the black haired hunter. John felt an arm suddenly thrown over his throat and start to choke him and in less then a second it was gone. He spared a quick look back and saw Saber had come up from behind and subdue him. John faced forward and caught a right hand cross from Fallow causing him to fall to the ground. As Fallow loomed over him ready to hit him with one of the chairs that had fallen, he saw David quickly slam the butt of his rifle over Fallow’s back, causing him to falter and fall. John quickly rolled out of the way as a loud “thud” followed soon after, signaling Fallow’s contact with the wooden floor.
 A single Ace of Spades fell down on the floor, catching John’s attention. He quickly picked it up, shoved it towards Fallow who was still stunned by the blow and said in a menacing tone.
 “I guess we know who’s lying now,” John said sarcastically and gave one last right punch that caused the skin near Fallow’s eyebrow to explode and bleed. Sensing trouble nearby, John immediately rolled to the floor, barely missing a kick aimed at his chest. With a mighty push with his hands, he was of the floor in mere seconds and had a tight grip on his opponent’s shirt. With a mighty effort, he heaved the man off the floor and threw him towards one of the nearby bunks, causing it to move with a sudden screech on the wooden floor.
At the corner of his vision, Saber saw John stand up and face another guy who had tried to lash out at David and immediately returned his attention to the man he was fighting with. With his hands held high for protection, he ducked as soon as a wild roundhouse punched was thrown and made a quick uppercut that smacked at the other’s chin, causing him to fall down. He turned and saw a few more beginning to gang up on them while the others tried to stay out of their way. They were clearly outnumbered.
 “You son of a bitch,” Fallow said, his anger directed at the young Hartley, his hand touching the tender spot near his shoulder blades “I’ll get you back for that. Big time,”
 David glanced at the incoming mob of soldiers that flanked Fallow’s side. He had dropped the rifle that he had swiped from nearby as soon as he had hit Fallow from behind, and now he was a bit disappointed to see that it was now out of their reach. He could have used it for leverage. He glanced up and saw John’s back in front of him.
 “You’ll have to get pass me first Fallow. You know me, I always protect my friends. Too bad you cheated, you could have survived longer with me at your side,” John said with sarcasm.
 “You know what West, you’re all talk. I’ll bet that you won’t even know what to do when we’re out in the field. On second though, why wait till then? Let’s see how well you do now,” Fallow said with a evil gleam in his eyes which was soon followed by another gleam...this one coming from a combat knife that he had kept in his boots.
 John shoved David aside before Fallow managed to lunge. He barely had enough time to deviate from the knife’s path, causing a small wound to appear in his shoulder. John hissed, touched his shoulder with his other hand, and saw the blood that oozed from it.
 Saber reacted quickly, caught Fallow’s hand as it thrust again, and twisted it, causing pain that allowed the knife to fall nimbly from Fallow’s fingers. With another movement from his wrist, Fallow was howling in pain and was soon down on his knees.
 “Enough!” Collin’s voice echoed in the room.
 Saber looked up, saw Collin flanked by a number of his sergeants, and immediately release his hold on Fallow’s wrist. Backing away slowly, he went beside his injured companion.
 Collin stepped forward, his sergeants holding their belaying pins menacingly, waiting to strike at any soldier who would continue the brawl. The soldiers that had gathered behind Fallow began to disperse, creating a path that led towards the four main characters in the fight.
 Fallow cursed, stood up slowly and growled, “I’ll get you back for that,”
 Collin slapped him from behind, causing him to fall down on his knees again, “I said enough cadet!” 
 Fallow grumbled something but said nothing more. Collin saw the stain of blood on John’s shirt, then glanced back down at the knife lying on the floor. With a frown he picked it up.
 “Will somebody tell me who owns this?” Collin inquired as he saw the few drops of blood in its fine blade. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “Nevermind. Sergeant Ford, take Fallow, Gibson and the rest outside. I’ll deal with them in awhile. Cadet’s West, Rider and Hartley, you three will stay here and clean this mess. I want everything gleaming when I get back, understood?”
 “Yes sir!” The three echoed simultaneously.
 With a quick jerk of his head, Ford and his men hauled Fallow and the rest away, leaving behind Collin to face the remaining three.
 “I don’t know what you boys were doing, but I suspect it was of no good. The next time you boys get involve with Fallow and his crew of roughnecks, I’ll guarantee you that you’ll be with them when I hand out punishments. I suggest you start getting that cut bandaged cadet. We have a lot of use for a shooter like you, no sense getting your arm chopped off because of infections,
 “Don’t think that I’m letting you boys off the hook though. I want your sorry asses reporting for duty tomorrow to our esteemed chef. For the meantime, get this mess straightened out,”
 Collin grinned, turned and walked out of the room.
 David brushed off the dirt that had collected on his clothes then turned his attention to his two friends, “Well, at least it’s better than what Fallow will be getting,”
 John gave him a look, shrug and went to his locker to get a med-kit.
 “That’s his way of saying thanks,” Saber whispered, giving David a slap on the back, “We’d better get some rest. If I know what Collin had in mind, we’ll need all our strength tomorrow. We’ll be wishing that we had our punishments now at the hands of Collin then at the hands of the master chef,”
 David watched Saber begin to clean up the mess that they had incurred during the brawl, and with a deep breath, went to help his British friend.    
To be continued...