Recruit

Chapter 4

Jack stood in the second row of recruits. Crippin stood to one side, calling out instructions to the recruits, instructing them on how to stand at attention in their ranks. Sergeant Hacker went along the lines, his tazer fizzing and ready for action. Jack wanted to sneak a look at his watch to check the time, but recruits that had been spotted making the most minor unauthorized movements had been punished for it. He guessed he had been standing here for over an hour. The sun seemed to hang on the horizon permanently, bathing the small parade ground in a weak twilight.

Standing still for a prolonged period was harder than Jack thought it could ever be. He felt his legs turning slowly to jelly. He had already run ten kilometers and then doubled back to help the struggling recruits. It was all taking its toll and Jack felt sure his legs would give way under him. The last recruit to have collapsed had been treated to multiple stings from Hackers tazer. Jack would avoid the tazer if he could. He tried to focus on a distant point and recall a happier time.

Jack thought of home. It had been a happy childhood and he had enjoyed the long, warm days in the fields of his island home on the planet Eros. But soon, thoughts of home reminded him of loss. He remembered his father leaving to join the military when the Chitins first made their presence in the outer system known. His father had been lost in the first conflict with the Chitins during the attempted blockade of the Chitin’s gas giant planet, Zelos.

His mother had become a shadow after that. She neglected herself and the boys. And then one day, she was gone. The social workers who had come to take Jack and his brother away couldn’t tell them what had happened to her. Jack had asked if she was looking for his father. The sad smile from the social worker that answered Jack’s question blew away all hope. That was the moment that twelve-year-old Jack grew up.

His childhood had crumbled and ended in a few cruel months. Jack’s brother became angry and then distant as he buried himself in virtual reality. He played the hero of the military and spent days on end fighting the Chitins in the various government provided training simulations barely disguised as games.

Jack buried himself in school. It was an escape. It was a challenge. It was fun. Jack enjoyed numbers and the certainty they seemed to offer. He spent years in quiet calculation. At times, he wondered if he was avoiding calculating all he had lost.

The sun dipped a fraction and the parade ground was plunged quickly and cruelly into a deep cold. The cold air burned Jack’s lungs. His legs felt the cold bite and his sweat-soaked shirt began to stiffen with ice crystals. The door to the bunkhouse slid open and spilled a bright welcoming light out over the parade ground.

“All right, hayseeds. Shower time.”

Lieutenant Crippin walked in through the open door. Sergeant Hacker stood at the open door and waved the recruits in. They marched in single file through the open door. Jack was one of the last recruits in. The door slid shut and closed the recruits into a long, bare corridor. Lieutenant Crippin walked along the line with Sergeant Hacker marching behind.

At the end of the corridor, Jack saw a small doorway. Crippin shouted along the line. “Strip, you hayseeds. We will wash away your civilian life and dress you in your military skin. You will leave the last of your old life behind in this corridor and step bravely toward your new life as a Fleet Marine recruit. You get me, hayseeds?”

The recruits stripped reluctantly. A brief threat from Hacker’s tazer hurried those who showed reluctance. Jack picked his watch out of his pocket. Maybe they would let him keep it if he told Crippin it was all he had left of his family. Somehow, he guessed he was being inducted into a new family and Crippin would take the small silver watch from him.

He watched as the recruits stripped. Some were more willing than others to undress in front of a group of strangers, but none of them were quick enough for Crippin and Hacker. Resistance was clearly unacceptable and Jack saw a recruit tazered, pushed to the ground, and stripped by Sergeant Hacker.

Jack held the watch in his hand. It was hidden in his palm but only just. He pressed it into his armpit. It was better hidden, but it made it very difficult to move freely and he certainly couldn’t get undressed while holding it there. The line ahead of Jack was shrinking by the second. The recruits were becoming more comfortable with stripping as the pile of discarded clothes grew. Jack pushed the watch into his mouth. It fit, barely. It tasted of dirty silver, a tang of salt and acid. It was the best place to hide it. He hoped he would not have to answer Crippin before he had a chance to hide it somewhere else.

At the front of the line, Jack striped in a moment. He tossed his old shirt, his threadbare trousers, boots, and tatty underwear onto the pile of clothes and walked through the door to the sounds of running water.

Jack was first sprayed head to toe with a foul-smelling soap before he reached the shower. The tepid water dribbled out of the tarnished showerheads in the ceiling of the shower block. Jack forced himself to stand under the water and attempted to wash the soap away.

He moved from the shower to the dryer. A cold blast of air chilled Jack. He rubbed away the water and dried his cold skin. Then he walked, shivering, toward another doorway.

The doorway led to a corridor. On one side was a small hatch and Jack could see the cold, washed recruits picking up small bundles. There was a bright yellow uniform and a pair of black boots. The corridor opened out into a wide area where the recruits were hurriedly pulling on their new clothes.

Crippin and Hacker were milling about the recruits and hurrying them to dress. No recruit needed extra encouragement to quickly cover their nakedness. Jack pulled on his pants. He spat his watch into his hand and thrust it into his pocket.

“It’s the runner, Sergeant Hacker,” Crippin said, stepping up alongside Jack.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Crippin repeated with a hint of approval. “You learn fast. Let’s hope you learn as fast as you run. You want a night run now, recruit?”

“Sir?” Jack asked, feeling pretty tired but not wanting to say no while the sergeant and his tazer were so close by.

“Sure you do,” Crippin said and fixed Jack with a smile. Then she shouted, “Listen up, hayseeds. Recruit Forge here wants a night run. Form up. We’re running the hill.”

The cold and dark made the run up the hill hard. The recruits struggled, tripping on loose stones scattered over the dimly lit path. Sergeant Hacker’s tazer fizzed threateningly just behind the pack. Jack ran with the group. He didn’t want to leave anyone behind and be made to run back and help them. He stayed at the back, just ahead of the tazer, and encouraged the recruits who were falling off the pace. Jack felt the hostility from the group. He knew they all blamed him for this hard run. Jack knew it wasn’t his fault. Crippin had done it because she hated him, probably hated all university students. Maybe she was worried that Jack was smarter than she was. Whatever her problem was, Jack knew it wasn’t his fault that they were running the hill. Crippin would probably have made them do it anyway. There was a definite pattern to all this, the distribution of rations, the shower, uniform distribution, and now a run. Crippin probably did the same with all new recruits. Jack couldn’t think why, he didn’t understand the way the military thought. What he did know was that the military was struggling to find recruits.

There had been a steady stream of volunteers to the military after the first Chitin attacks. Now that stream had slowed to a trickle. Jack feared one thing above all else--although they were told about all the great victories against the Chitins, Jack guessed that humanity was losing the fight.

Jack spotted the dim light up ahead and the silhouette of Crippin.

“Come on, hayseeds. Nearly there.” Crippin stood next to a small column. “Tap the top, hayseeds. Then get back to that bunkhouse.”

Jack tapped the stone column. It was smooth to the touch, polished by thousands of hands of recruits who’d run up the hill. He turned to head back down, thinking of nothing but food. His stomach was empty and it hurt.

“Not you, hayseed,” Crippin said.

Jack felt Crippin’s hand on his shoulder. He watched the other recruits tap the plinth, turn, and struggle back down the hill.

“Last one to the bunkhouse takes first watch,” Crippin shouted. She pulled Jack’s shoulder and turned him to face her. “And that last recruit will be you, hayseed,” Crippin said. “Get me?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Jack ran down the hill. He heard the recruits ahead in the darkness. He saw the distant lights from the bunkhouse. He heard the fizzing tazer and the heavy footfalls of Sergeant Hacker just behind him.

Jack was cold, tired, and hungry. Only twenty-four hours ago, he was in his university dorm room feeling sure that he would have the grades to continue his studies. He’d never dropped a grade before. His brother’s death had affected him more than he realized. He cursed his brother for dying. He cursed Professor Bowen for not fixing his grades. He cursed Torent for stealing his ration bar. He cursed Crippin for making everyone hate him. He cursed his bad luck.

He tripped and fell forward into the dark. The ground slammed into him hard. He heard the fizzing of the tazer come close to his ear. He felt the kick from Sergeant Hacker. Jack struggled to his feet and ran on into the dark.