PROJECT SPARTA

CHAPTER 8

"That is a.... M1911... pppp pistol." Tobias's lips quivered, the stutter returned. "It t...t...takes a .45 caliber and the b...b...bullets travel about... " Axle cocked the gun, sending another shudder through Tobias. Tobias was losing it as he stared down the barrel of the gun. "I ... can't remember."

"825 feet per second," Axle said with disappointment, he lowered his firearm and holstered it. "Your mind is only as smart as it can think under pressure." He offered Tobias a comforting wink.

"You will learn how to treat and use your weapon as if your life depended on it, because I can assure you it does..." Axle stepped from the podium, leaving Tobias shaken from the interaction. The lone female instructor then approached the podium with a calm serenity.

"I am your espionage instructor, Juliette Rearden." She was a nondescript person. She had standard brown hair, she wasn't pretty, she wasn't ugly, she wasn't fat or skinny. Rearden looked like an average Jane. Some of the Spartans were unimpressed, but Xander knew that her uneventful appearance was intentional. Xander knew that was exactly how she wanted to look. Rearden was almost unnoticed – exactly what an espionage expert would want.

"If you get caught, no one will bargain for you. Remember we are contractors, we are not military. We do not exist. I will teach you the stealth necessary to conduct yourself in the field as well as in your personal life. You will all be living as different people when you leave this Compound. You are now full-time spies; even your civilian identity is an alias. Identity is paramount in this line of work."

"Any questions?" Jooles hand raised, eager to engage in this field of training.

"Yes..."

"Is Juliette Rearden your real name?" she asked, receiving a few chuckles from the room.

"Of course not," she smiled back, the chuckles grew to laughter. "I look forward to seeing you in class."

Rearden stepped away from the podium and made way for the last of the instructors.

"I am your intelligence instructor, Damien Cusick." Cusick had dark rimmed glasses and greasy, rumpled hair that fell to his shoulders. He had a wide girth, making him the largest person in the room. Despite his weight he maintained an intelligent look. He looked out of place – the other instructors seemed to be military. He was wearing a Radiohead T-shirt, a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee and Converse All-Stars. He squinted a little bit as his sight was blurring from incessantly staring at computer monitors. Maybe it had developed from staring at a computer screen for too many years.

"Really all I can say is that I will teach you the art of hacking information systems. The majority of warfare these days happens on these." He pulled from his back pocket a Smartphone. "Or a computer. You need to know how to fully use one and you need to learn how to use your target's against them. I personally don't have any field experience but I have a great deal of cyber experience." He waited for laughs but they didn't come.

"Who here has had much experience with computers?" A few hands raised, but one shot up.

"Mac Morrison, right?" Cusick asked, seeing the hand that shot up. Mac had a slight modern edge to him – an alternative type who rejected convention. He had rolled the bottom cuff of his pants up to shin height. The sides of his head were shaved closed to the scalp, while his hair remained longer on top. He had dark rimmed glasses like Cusick.

"Yes sir." Cusick smiled, sensing a protégé in his midst. "I love computers, my dad and I used to take them apart and put them back together in the garage. Mac twitched his fingers when talking as if he was typing what he was saying.