I might be young, but I knew when I was being sold. I noticed that the rest of the populace around me knew it, too. They rarely looked up at the huge, glitzy holographic displays.
I took a deep breath, gripped my duffel in both hands, and pressed my palm against the Hall’s door pad.
After a moment, my picture came up on the dirty, cracked screen. My basic info flashed up an instant later.
James McGill, sandy hair, blue eyes. I was twenty-two and exactly two meters tall. Unlike most of my friends, I wasn’t packing any extra pounds. That was due to good genes and basketball, rather than any lack of overeating on my part.
I didn’t read it all. Finally, the door snapped back its bolt and let me in.
I stepped inside the Mustering Hall and the door clanged shut behind me, shooting its bolt home again.
-2-
I felt relieved that I’d at least been allowed into the Hall. If I’d been underage, a criminal, or flagged as a weakling in the medical databases, the doors would have locked me out. That initial screening was for the best, really. No legion would give an unqualified applicant a moment’s consideration.
After all the dirt and squalor of the world outside, I was taken aback by the interior of the Hall. First off, it was huge—the size of a football stadium at least. The walls soared so high the ceiling was hazy overhead. The roof was glass, and the autoshades far above were set to let in a blaze of cheerful light. The temperature was perfect in here, with none of the summer humidity and heat I’d left behind me.
I walked down the marble steps, and my boots sent echoing reports across the Hall—not that anyone could hear it. The place was incredibly noisy. There had to be a thousand or more people in sight.
The walls were lined with recruitment stations. Over each of these was an emblem or a crest for one legion or another. The testing took place in the center of the great open floor, I knew that much. There were sparring circles, medical booths and countless recruit-wannabes wandering around between them.
“Hey, kid,” said a guy in stone-gray coveralls. He had a cap with a globe on it, marking him as a legionnaire. I knew many of the symbols, but I didn’t recognize which one he was in.
“Sir?” I answered promptly. I’d decided ahead of time to call everyone sir—if only to get into the habit.
He shook his head. “I’m a tech. You don’t ‘sir’ me.”
He slapped his stripes, and I realized he was a specialist and therefore enlisted. I nodded apologetically. Gaming hadn’t fully prepared me for this life.
He looked me up and down appreciatively. “You’re a tall one, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir—uh, Tech.”
“Specialist. You’re supposed to call me Specialist Ville. Or Tech Specialist Ville.”
I hadn’t known his name was Ville, but I saw it now on his nametag. I decided not to say anything, as I felt numbed. I could hardly believe I was really here talking to this guy and trying to join the legions.
Ville took a dime-sized token out of a slot and handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Your info. The door made it. Everyone you meet in the Hall will want to see that. Don’t lose it, they’ll get pissed.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Head down to the floor and get tested first. Don’t bother the guys in the legion booths until you pass everything. They aren’t going to talk to a splat until they know your stats.”
A splat? I had no idea what that was but let it pass.
“Right, okay,” I said.
“And kid,” Ville said, “next time you can take the crosstown connection to the station under the Hall. You don’t have to walk the streets. Not everyone out there likes recruits.”
“Okay, thanks. I didn’t know that.”
I walked down more marble steps. I frowned, thinking hard. Next time? Was there going to be a next time? I’d been under the impression all my life that getting into the service would be easy. There was always one legion or another recruiting. I was able-bodied and more than half-way through a college degree—honestly, I figured they would count themselves lucky to get me.
I started at the medical cubicles. That’s where I found the first lines—the longest lines. I wasn’t afraid of this part. I’d passed plenty of medical exams to play sports in school.
These guys, however, were thorough. They examined me like a prize pig at the fair. I was poked, prodded, bled and pissed dry. After an hour of that crap, an unsmiling nurse gave me my little chip back.
“How’d I do?” I asked.
“Good enough to get to the next line,” she replied.
I eyed her insignia. I could read her rank now, after having paid careful attention. She was another specialist, like the guy at the door. But instead of being a tech, she was a bio—a medic, essentially.
I moved with the flow to the sparring circles. I was given a dummy rifle in the first chamber. I smiled. It felt just like the ones I’d bought to accessorize my gaming rig. I pumped a dozen rounds into a dozen moving targets and was just getting into it when some guy shouted “Time!” and kicked me out.
The next test involved a small arena. I’d caught sight of these guys from the doorway. This was a very different kind of test with archaic weaponry. I didn’t feel anywhere near as confident with these things as I had been with the dummy rifle.
I picked up a shaft of bright metal. There was a round, brass-colored knob at the tip, and a guard over the grip. I guess you’d call it a practice sword, but it didn’t look like a sword. To me, it looked more like a kitchen utensil than anything else.
I understood then that I was about to be tested for energy-weapon fighting skills. All the legions had to be ready to fight with energy-blades. The heavy troops used them almost as often as they used guns. They were like swords, but made of light and plasma. You never knew what tech level your opponent was going to have and what would work best against them. The Galactics and the Hegemony people decided things like that. Legionnaires just obeyed and fought according to the rules someone else set for them.
Irritable people ushered me into a ring. On the opposite side, I expected to see another dude with an electric sword. Instead, I saw a stick-figure framework of metal and wires and immediately realized I was going to be facing a robot. It reminded me of a skeleton made of steel tubing. I saw that its power source was a cord going from its right foot back to the wall, where it was plugged in.
That’s when I noticed the sawdust I was standing in and the hard brown patches in the shavings—were those puddles of blood or dry, hard puke? Or something even worse?
Really, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t happy to see those stains—whatever they were. But this evidence of past events did serve to sharpen my mind. I figured it hadn’t been this electric skeleton that had been bleeding and crapping itself in the sawdust.
No one told me anything. There were no instructions, nothing. They didn’t even say “Go!” They just slammed the rattling door behind me, and the robot went into action.
I’d heard about schools that prepped you for this sort of thing. They were supposed to teach a young person all the ins and outs of the legions over a three month term for about forty thousand credits. I hadn’t had the money or the time to spare, but right now I wished that I had. I felt like I’d spent my entire education studying for the wrong damned thing.
The robot advanced and began swinging its sword from side to side in slow arcs. My first thought was to run, but I knew the legionnaires were watching. A coward wasn’t going to impress anyone.
So I stood my ground and put up my sword to meet the oncoming robot. All I did was put my stick up in front of its stick. It whacked its rod into mine, and there was a bright flash of electricity, a snapping sound, and the alien stink of ozone.
The robot immediately stopped slashing and retreated to its side of the ring. I straightened from the crouch I’d been in and took a deep breath.
“Was that it?” I asked aloud.
>
Silly me.
The robot reset itself. It came at me again, but this time it was slashing up and down—and its practice sword was moving faster than before.
I’m not a total dummy. I side-stepped and lifted my blade high at a horizontal angle, so it would intercept its up-down slashing.
Another snap and buzz. Again, the robot retreated.
A smile appeared on my face. It was the possibly the first smile of my long day. I felt like I was getting the hang of this.
Then it came at me again. This time, it was thrusting at my chest, pumping the sword at me like a piston. I knew by now that the brass knob at the end of its weapon would give me a nasty jolt if it touched me. I guess the legionnaires wanted to give recruits the proper encouragement. From what I’d seen in the sawdust, that jolt wasn’t going to be a fun sensation.
My smile was gone. I didn’t see how I could stop it this time. The blade was moving faster than ever, stabbing, moving that sword-tip back and forth constantly.
I advanced and tried reaching way out to whack at it. That didn’t work; the thing was moving too damned fast. It almost got me with a thrust when I tried to hit its blade with mine.
I retreated until I had a wall behind me. Not knowing what else to do, I was forced to dash to one side. The skeletal robot turned after me, surprising me. I hadn’t seen it react to any move I’d made up until that moment. It didn’t even have eyes. I wondered if a remote operator was running it, or if there were cameras in the walls of the arena giving it an optical feed.
Finally, a plan formed in my mind. If it was only making lateral thrusts at a predefined height, why not get under it?
I waited until it came in close. At the last moment, I dropped to the floor and slashed up to hit its weapon with mine.
It worked. The buzz, flash and retreating taps of its webbed metal feet were now familiar.
I scrambled up and set myself, legs bent and weapon held ready. I was breathing harder now. How many times was I going to have to outsmart this frigging thing?
The robot transformed as I watched. It now stalked me intelligently, moving like a hunter tracking prey.
I tried stepping to one side and ducking low. Neither move helped. That brass knob at the tip of its weapon followed me with precision. It pointed its weapon directly at my chest at all times and walked toward me. It was no longer restricted to a single form of attack.
This was it, I figured. I made a growling sound and walked toward the thing. I didn’t want to be caught up against a wall with nowhere to go.
It came to meet me. I slashed at its sword, missed, then thrust at the robot itself. It made a little swirling motion with its weapon, never touching mine. Then it thrust the point toward me.
I tried to turn my body, to dodge the tip, but it grazed my left shoulder. I heard a snap and experienced a numbing jolt of pain. I felt a little sick.
I was on my knees. The robot lowered its weapon and walked away, returning to its starting position.
Feeling pissed off, I slashed my weapon after it. I didn’t go for the legs, or the sword—I hit it on the power cord, which trailed from its right foot.
There was a snap and a wisp of blue smoke. The robot stiffened and stopped moving. Then, slowly at first, it toppled, pitching forward onto its face. I scrambled up and rubbed my shoulder, grinning.
The door behind me rattled open. I saw the tech specialist with clenched teeth standing in the doorway.
“Don’t you know you’re not supposed to hit the power cord, splat?” he shouted at me.
“Sorry, Specialist Feldman,” I said loudly, reading his nametag. “No one gave me any instructions.”
“Get the hell out of here!”
Grumbling, he shouldered past me and went to service his robot, which now looked like a tangle of coat hangers. I felt no sympathy for either of them.
Another tech waited outside. She was short, pretty, and had a freckled mouth that was twisted up into a wry grimace. She looked me up and down.
“You’re tall,” she said, “and crazy.”
She offered me my silver disk. I took it and thanked her.
“Don’t keep wrecking stuff, splat,” she said. “The legions don’t like that. No primus wants a man who breaks the equipment.”
I nodded, trying to look contrite. I think I failed.
“Why do you guys keep calling me splat?” I asked as she turned to go.
She looked at me in surprise, eyebrows upraised. “Don’t you know? No one in your family has served?”
I shook my head.
She smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “You know you’re going to be jumping out of ships, right?”
I nodded. The usual mode of troop deployment was to drop from space onto an enemy world. It was done with pods, tiny capsules that fell from orbit like bombs.
“I’ve seen the vids,” I said.
“Well, what do you think happens to a new recruit who panics on his first jump?”
I thought about it for a long second as she chuckled and walked away.
Then I finally got it…
Splat.
After the medical and physical tests came the psych people. They gave me more tests—the written kind. These were run by specialists as well, bios and techs mixed together. There was one woman among them who was different. She wore insignia I’d never seen before.
I tapped the shoulder of a short, swarthy candidate next to me.
“Who’s that?” I asked him.
The guy frowned at me then looked in the direction I indicated. He had thick limbs and a mess of dark, curly hair. I could tell right away he didn’t like being tapped.
“Carlos,” he said. “My name’s Carlos Ortiz.”
“Okay, Carlos, who’s that lady over there?”
“I don’t know. But she’s wearing a sunburst—that means she’s a primus.” He was already back to looking at his screen.
This impressed me. She was a real officer, and not just an adjunct—a primus! She was near the top of the command structure of her legion. The only rank higher than primus was that of tribune—the brass who commanded the entire unit.
I squinted, trying to see her legion affiliation. I finally made out a circle with a woven set of lines running over it. There were a lot of people around wearing those.
“What kind of legion is that? That globe-looking crest? I don’t recognize it.”
Carlos looked up from his test again in annoyance. We were both going through an onscreen battery of goofy questions about what we’d do in a given situation, and what we liked and disliked. I was bored already.
“This test is timed, you know. Don’t you even want to get selected?”
I shrugged. “There don’t seem to be any wrong answers to any of the questions. I’m not worried.”
“There’s always a wrong answer, trust me.”
“Okay, okay. Just tell me what legion that primus is from.”
Carlos looked at her again, then laughed. “That’s not a legion emblem, dummy. That’s Hegemony. Haven’t you noticed? Most of these Mustering Hall pukes have those. They aren’t from any legion. They’re from Earth Forces. Probably retired losers or people connected enough to stay out of space.”
I gave him a dark look. I didn’t like anything he’d said. I especially didn’t like being called a dummy. Couldn’t a man not know everything in this place without being sneered at? I was a lot bigger than him, and I considered leaning on him slightly, but the moment passed. I didn’t think it would help me to be disrupting the tests.
“Recruits!” barked a female voice suddenly.
I turned, startled. It was the primus, and as she stepped near I saw she looked suspicious.
“Are you two cheating? That’s grounds for instant dismissal.”
“No, ma’am,” I said.
“This guy is some kind of rube from the sticks,” Carlos said, pointing at me. “He’s clueless, and probably too dumb to cheat.”
I gave him a
frown but kept quiet. The primus looked me up and down, then stalked away. Over her shoulder, she said. “Shut up and finish your profiles.”
“Yes, sir!” Carlos said with false cheer.
I obeyed the primus. The questions weren’t difficult—they were absurd, in fact. If I was trapped in a room that was filling with water, but had been ordered to stay there, what would I do? I tapped option C: Find a way out.
The next question flashed up. When I stood in line at the supermarket, did I switch lanes when another line looked shorter? I snorted. Option A: Yes.
The questions went on. Contrary to Carlos’s opinion, I’m not a dummy. I might not apply myself to foolish tests—or to pointless classes in school—but I realized the questions were trying to figure out my personality. I’m naturally a take-charge kind of guy, so I went with it. Maybe they’d give me a squad command, or at least consider me for the job.
When I finished, I stood up. Carlos stood up at the same time, glancing at me in surprise.
“What?” I asked, but I knew what he was thinking already. He’d miscalculated and hadn’t realized I was a foot taller than he was. I towered over him.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I’m just surprised you’re done already, after all that chatter.”
We moved toward the exit together.
“It was easy,” I said. “I figured they must want a man who isn’t a coward. I just answered naturally.”
He squinted at me, and chuckled. “You made yourself out as a real leader of men, didn’t you?”
“Of course. Who else are they going to pick for squad commander?”
Carlos laughed. I realized after a moment he was laughing at me.
“You big retard,” he said. “They don’t want men who take charge. They want men who follow orders like robots. You’ll be lucky to get a contract wielding a power-mop!”
I glared at him, and I swear, I almost took him down right there. The only thing stopping me was the primus. I could see her, watching us. She was watching all the recruits as they left the area. As we happened to be standing at the exit, she was looking right at us.
Steel World Page 2