"Why am I not raging mad? I should be. I should be kicking his ass right now!"
"My efforts here have been one epic failure after another, Ray. What can I do? Tell me. Anything?"
I came to the realization it was the Togmal I hated, not TC. His inaction only made him an enabler, and not a willing one. He had been taking direction from his father and the advisors who had been chosen for him. Despite his careless actions, I believed him to be a kind person, who actually cared for me and Denise. His contrition had me confused as to what to do. I felt vengeful, but it wasn't him I wanted to punish.
I took a seat in a chair across from him, sulking. "You're right. You weren't ready for this. Neither of us were."
— Chapter 15 —
* * *
TC looked directly at me for the first time since I entered the room. "I truly am sorry, Ray. I would give my own life if I thought it would bring them back."
I knew he made the statement as a friend but would not have honored it. Thomas Goodall was not interested in giving up his life for anyone. Neither of us was prepared for this. This was war. People died and more would be dying.
"What's in the bag?"
"Personal items." I blurted out, "I'm joining the Marines."
TC stared for several seconds before slowly nodding. "I would want to do the same. You can't get justice here, Ray. Out there, fighting, maybe. I know the rage you must be feeling. I wish there was something I could do to ease your pain. But anything I have to offer would seem petty."
"You could let me out of my contract. Let me go. Let me join the Marines."
TC let out a long sigh. "My gut tells me that will be a bad move, Ray. You're reacting to grief. The Marines, while honorable, will probably not give you what you seek. They may stick you in some supply warehouse moving boxes. You might never see a Togmal."
"Still. It's what I want, Thomas. Let me go. Let me do this. I can't stay here."
TC looked to the side in thought. His fingers tapped nervously on his desk. When his eyes came back, he gave a single nod.
"Consider your contract void, Ray. There are two transports leaving this week. Hop on either one you want. Both will have an Eagle's Wing escort, including personnel on the transport itself."
I stood. "As far as the updates to shaft three go, you have a good team in place. They are fully capable of completing the work without me."
I turned for the door. TC's guards came toward me. With a wave of his hand, they stopped. I made my way to the new apartment. I would have to wait an excruciating sixteen hours before the next transport was taking off.
I entered the apartment and sat back on the bunk. For the first time in four years, I was totally alone. My estranged parents had thrown me out, even though I was only fourteen, turning me over to the state because they were too lazy to provide—and usually too drunk to care. I wasn't a bad kid. I just didn't have parents who cared. I had vowed to be better.
My parents were only-children as was I. I had no aunts, uncles, or cousins. My grandfather on my mother's side had passed when I was five and my grandmother just before my parents abandoned me.
I loved Denise's parents. They were kind, caring, and responsible, the exact situation every kid should have. I dreaded the thought of bringing them the bad news.
The following day, the transport departed as scheduled. An Eagle's Wing warship rode beside us. The kids on the trip were constantly staring out the windows. I was constantly staring toward the cargo hold.
During the nine-day ride, I relived the Togmal raid over and over in my head. A thousand times they boarded the transport and a thousand times she was sucked out into space from the pod. I repeatedly cried—until the transport touched down on Demos.
A small shuttle ferried me to Denise's parents' home. Don and Darlene were happy to see me, even given the situation. After going through the ordeal of explaining what happened to Denise and Pea, they smothered me with love, trying with every fiber of their being to offer comfort, in spite of their loss. It helped with the pain but did nothing to ease the rage I was feeling.
In the morning, with Don's encouragement, I took a sky-taxi to the nearest Marine recruiting station to enlist. They informed me I could join as an officer which would give me preferences as to my posting, I told them I didn't care, just so long as it was the front lines and I would be able to kill Togmal. The recruiter was eager to sign me up as enlisted Marine infantry.
Instead of returning to Denise's parents’ house, I rented a hotel room across the street from the recruiting center. Seeing them and seeing the house, being that close to the room she grew up in... was too hard. I needed something to occupy my mind, something to blunt my raging frustration.
Don offered a solution, meeting me at the local pub. We talked of his time in the Marines as I drank myself into oblivion. He helped me back to my hotel with understanding.
The following day, a comm from the recruiter came in. I was to report to his office. I was only to bring myself and the clothes I was wearing. I placed my personal things in a box and shipped it to Denise's parents. My extra clothing and the other items I cared nothing about were donated.
I walked across the street to the recruiting center. That's where I met Hayden, Max, and Juan, as introduced by Hayden. Each had joined for the adventure and to fight and kill Togmal.
What happened next was unexpected. Joining the Marines with us was Sheila, Denise's friend from Baxter. She had come in on a shuttle the day before and stayed the night at Denise's parents' house. Don had told her about my enlistment in the Corps.
She was as enraged over Denise and Pea's death as I was, and wanted to inflict revenge on the Togmal for her own pain. She had just finished signing the recruitment papers when I arrived.
She briefly offered condolences over my loss before we were herded onto a Union Marine Corps shuttle. Juan took the seat next to Sheila, giving her a smile. She would typically be pawing him over, flirting with her every wink and smile. He would have no idea what was coming. But Sheila only had revenge on her mind.
I was mostly quiet on the ride to the induction center. Sheila knew why. And she knew I was not in the mood to discuss it. I needed the time to mourn in solitude.
Hayden was three years my younger and had only recently moved from the Tellico Colony for work. The job he had come for, working a ride at a theme park, disappeared when war was declared. Demos had yet to be attacked, but the vacation destinations on the planet were suffering from low patronage. People worried. With that worry came a tendency to stay close to home.
Hayden scratched his head as he told his story. "I suddenly found myself being put out on the street. I literally don't have a credit to my name right now. Joining up was my only choice. I was told I'd get to kill aliens. So..."
Max, a year older than Hayden, went next. "I was at a trade school. My grandfather always had great stories of when he was in the Marines. I felt I owed it to my family to join, to protect them. Who knows, maybe I'll have a few adventures along the way."
Hayden asked, "What were you in trade school for?"
"Cooking."
Hayden laughed. "From a wannabe cook to a Marine. Quite the transition."
Max shrugged. "Was the only thing I was good at. That and running."
"Running? Like away?"
Max bristled. "No, as in distance. For some reason I can run for almost ever. I just put myself in a rhythm and go. My grandfather said he was the same way. What about you? Anything special?"
Hayden propped an elbow on the arm of his chair and made a muscle. "Arm wrestling. I have a crushing handshake. You got a half-credit coin on you?"
"They took all that stuff. Or told us not to bring it."
"Oh, yeah. Well if you had one, I'd show you how I bend it, using my thumb and finger."
"You can bend a coin?"
"That's why they call me Hayden the Hammer."
"Who calls you that?"
"Well, besides you and me, no one." he chuckled.
"But they will. Once I tell enough people to call me that. Is Max your full name?"
"Maximus Garvin."
Hayden nodded. "Maximus Mayhem. That's what we'll call you. Sounds intimidating. And you?" Hayden looked at the recruit next to Sheila.
"Juan Duplo."
Hayden grinned. "The Juan and Only." We all had a good laugh. He turned his eyes to me. "You?"
"Ray."
"Alright... Raygun Ray."
I shook my head. "I'd just prefer Ray, if it's all the same."
Hayden held up his massive stone hands. "Have it your way, Dull Ray. Now the little lady?"
Sheila smiled. "Sheila Getz."
"Sheila Getz 'em Every Time."
I smirked. "Hardly." I had blurted it out without thought.
Sheila pointed a finger. "Easy, Ray, you don’t want to be ‘black-eyed Ray’, do you?"
The conversation went on for several minutes with Hayden the Hammer, Maximus Mayhem, the Juan and Only, and Sheila Getz 'em trading barbs and quips. When the shuttle descended toward the induction center, I realized it was the first time in a week I had felt halfway normal. The four other members of my recruiting group were good folk. Except for Sheila, their attitudes seemed to focus on the Marines being more of an adventure than a commitment. I hoped that notion was a result of my own bent outlook.
We were escorted into a room by a friendly face and placed in a line. Hayden was just in front of me as we worked our way up to a desk where an old, decrepit looking sergeant sat. He perused a display as each recruit came before him.
Hayden stepped up.
"Name?"
"Hayden the Hammer." It was said with a grin.
"You joining us to clean latrines, son?"
Hayden's grin faded. "No, sir. Joining to fight Togmal."
"Well Mr. Hammer, it seems you're trying to start your way up from the very bottom."
"It's Roth, sir. Mr. Roth. Hayden Roth."
The sergeant leaned back in his chair. "Oh. So, you came up here using a false name? You do realize that's a felony, right? And since you signed those recruitment papers already, the Marines own your lard ass. Which means I own your lard ass."
"Yes, sir. My apologies."
"And you see this patch on my shoulder? I'm a sergeant. You don't call enlisted men and women sir. You call us by our rank."
"My apologies, Sergeant. It won't happen again." Hayden stood with his chest poked out and a stiff back.
"What is that pose, Mr. Roth? Are you mocking me?"
"No, s—Sergeant. Just standing up straight."
The sergeant sighed as he turned to the man next to him. "Corporal, take this stooge away. I'm tired of looking at him."
The corporal gave a confused look. "Away, Sergeant?"
"As-in to the next line. Unfortunately, we're at war and we need stooges."
Hayden's grin returned.
The corporal waved a hand. "Come this way, Mr. Roth. And welcome to the Marines."
"Name?"
"Ray, Jackson, Sergeant."
"Says here you lost people in the Echelon transport incident."
"Wife and daughter, Sergeant."
"Is that why you joined?"
"It is, Sergeant."
"You want to kill Togmal?"
"I do, Sergeant. All roads lead to Rome."
"What?"
"Just something my wife used to say, Sergeant. It means we're heading to fight the Togmal anyway. It's inevitable."
I wasn't sure why that saying had popped from my mouth. Denise had used the phrase a number of times after studying our earlier cultures. I had the sudden realization I could recall dozens of those phrases without thought. I decided at that moment to try to use them more often as a tribute to her memory.
"Good." The sergeant pointed a finger. "But let's get one thing straight. In here you follow orders. If your CO tells you to kill Togmal, you kill Togmal. If they tell you to kiss Togmal, what do you do?"
"Kill Togmal, Sergeant. I'll blow them a kiss once they're dead."
"Are you trying to be funny, Mr. Jackson?"
"Couldn't be more serious, Sergeant." I stared straight ahead.
"I feel for your loss, Mr. Jackson, but keep this in mind, this is not the place for revenge. You follow orders here, you do the job you're told to do and nothing more. Got it?"
"I signed up to kill Togmal, Sergeant."
A sigh followed. "Corporal, show him the way."
"Down this hall and first door on the left, Mr. Jackson."
It was official. I was a Marine. In the next room they shaved my head, took measurements of practically every body part, and sent me through a sonic shower. I was a bit shocked to see a naked Sheila Getz in the shower just behind me.
"Nice buns, Ray."
I continued to look forward. We exited the shower room to find clothing and boots ready for us. I dressed, pulled on the boots, snapped the fasteners, and followed the other Marines to the next room where we took the oath of allegiance.
A corporal was standing in front of our group of thirty. He raised a large serrated-edge knife above his head. The man was of average height, but his hips were wider than his shoulders. The voice that followed was unnerving.
He belted out a squeaky tone, "This is your combat knife! It is your life. You treat it like you're married to it. You love it, but you don't make love to it. That would be bad. Treat it with respect. Always keep it close and at the ready. You never know when it will be needed."
A mannequin on wheels, dressed in black, was thrust from a side door by another Marine. The corporal vaulted toward it with an ear-piercing screech. The blade of the knife drove deep into the chest of the mannequin. The corporal calmly pulled back his hand, leaving the knife where it had been planted. Most of the new recruits stared—wide-eyed, I took mental notes.
"Always ready. Just make certain of your target before taking action."
The corporal walked back to a table he had been standing by. He picked up a plasma rifle and took aim at the mannequin.
— Chapter 16 —
* * *
"A supply sergeant will issue you a rifle when you arrive at boot camp. We call it a boot rifle. The weapon you will receive will be de-tuned. The result will be a plasma strike that is similar in magnitude to a punch. Do not play with the rifle, it is not a toy. It can easily bust out an eye, eardrum, or thump you hard enough in the chest to cause your heart to stop beating.
"The only time you will make use of the boot rifle is during training when you are wearing both a helmet and a chest protector. If you are missing one of those items, do not pick up your boot rifle. Doing so and getting caught will earn you time in the brig. And believe me when I say this, the Marines running the brig are not your friends. You will very much regret being sent there."
The corporal aimed the rifle and pulled the trigger. The mannequin suffered a dent to its chest, sending the knife out onto the floor.
Hayden chuckled and whispered. "If he can make the knife come all the way back to him, I'll be impressed."
The corporal stopped. "Did someone say something?"
Max stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Bit of a cough, Corporal. Sorry."
The corporal returned a suspicious look. "I see. What's your name, Marine?"
"Maximus Garvin, Corporal."
"Well Mr. Garvin, come up here."
Max strode up front.
"Grab that combat knife from the floor."
Max walked to the knife, bending over to retrieve it. The corporal lifted his plasma rifle, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. The impact sent Max flying into the mannequin, knocking it from its stand.
The corporal lowered his weapon. "Always be prepared."
I held back an angered Hayden Roth as he began to step forward.
Max turned with a momentary look of rage, throwing the knife with a grunt. I jerked back my head in shock as the knife stuck deep into the corporal's leg, just below the knee, almost knocking him from his feet.
The corporal looked down and then back. "Outstanding throw, Mr. Garvin! Where did you learn to throw a knife like that?"
"My grandfather is a Marine."
The corporal smiled. "How did you know?"
"Know what, Corporal?"
"About my prosthetic leg."
Max let out a breath he was holding. "I didn't know, Corporal."
Chuckles and murmurs overtook the group silence.
Hayden snickered. "Now that is classic. I think Max Mayhem is going to find the adventure he's looking for. Maybe before we even make boot camp."
The corporal turned to face us. "Each of you will take note of the narrow pocket on your right pant leg. You cannot penetrate that material with your knife. The small bit of padding will keep you from harming yourself. Come up to this table, take a knife, and place it in its new home. As I said earlier, this is your sweetheart. Love it, cherish it, protect it, and always, always keep it at the ready."
As Max picked a knife from the table, the corporal put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for this teaching aide, Mr. Garvin. I'll be using it with each new group coming through here. It has a nice look to it, don't you think?"
"Impressive, Corporal."
"Impressive indeed. I apologize for using you like that. You will find it uncomfortable to sit for about a week. Unfortunately, you will likely have many bruises by the time you leave boot camp. Good luck, Mr. Garvin."
We were next escorted out onto a tarmac and loaded onto a large transport. This one held more than three hundred new Marines who had all just come through the processing center. When we took seats, Sheila shifted around to sit next to Max.
Juan turned to face me with a confused scowl. "What'd I do?"
I leaned in. "She's a hopper. Before this flight is over, she'll probably be making out with Hayden."
Hayden nodded. "The Hammer would be okay with that."
The transport lifted.
As we came up through the atmosphere, a sergeant walked to our section. "Listen up. This flight takes seven days. We are headed to the Mycene Colony for your initial boot training. The camp there is nestled in the middle of a hot, nasty swamp. You will be spending six weeks of basic training in a place you'll wish you had never heard of.
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