Jack felt his lungs burn and his legs wobble as he ran the last few meters up the hill to a parade ground in front of the set of buildings. Lieutenant Crippin was waiting, sitting on her buggy. Jack smiled at Crippin and raised a hand in the air to claim victory in the race. He slowed to a walk and approached Crippin.
“Pleased with yourself?” Crippin asked.
“That was a bit slow for me,” Jack replied, smiling.
“Sir!” Crippin shouted.
Jack came to attention. “Sir, sorry, sir.”
“And will you always run and leave your squad behind, hayseed?”
“Sir?” Jack asked, confused.
“You have left a dozen of your squad-mates back there all getting tazered by Sergeant Hacker just so you could get here sooner. What did you expect to find here?” Crippin climbed off the buggy and approached Jack. “A warm and friendly welcome? A nice soft bunk? A glass of lemonade?” Crippin jabbed Jack in the shoulder. “Run, hayseed. Go help the squad. And if you leave your team behind again, I’ll tazer you myself. Run.”
Jack turned and started jogging down the slope. Away in the distance, he could see the most distant recruits all panting for breath and keeping one step ahead of Hacker and his tazer. Jack paced himself carefully. This was turning into a longer run than he had first thought.
Up the hill came Torent. He’d fallen in with the small group that had been snapping at his heels. Torent grinned at Jack as they passed each other on the slope. Jack heard Lieutenant Crippin shout as Torent as his group came close.
“Fall in, hayseeds. Two neat ranks. Hands by your sides. Eyes front. Do you get me, hayseeds?”
And as Jack dug deep for his extra reserves, he heard the small group of recruits shout their reply.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
4
Jack stood in the second row of recruits. Crippin stood to one side, calling out instructions to the recruits, telling them 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 one day, she was just 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. 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 stripped in a moment. He tossed his old shirt, his threadbare trousers, boots, and tattered 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 one needed extra encouragement to quickly cover their nakedness. Jack pulled on his pants, spat his watch into his hand, and thrust it quickly 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 ru
nning 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.
5
When Jack woke, tired, hungry, and cold, Lieutenant Crippin was shouting again.
The recruits were climbing out of beds that Jack was sure were just as uncomfortable as his own. Jack checked that his watch was safe in its new hiding place, tucked inside the thin mattress through a split in the stitching. Then, having satisfied himself that the watch was safe, he slipped out from under his rough blanket and stood on the cold, stone floor. Sergeant Hacker was walking along the line of bunks, throwing a silver-wrapped ration bar onto each bunk. Jack grabbed his immediately. He wasn’t missing out on what might be his only meal of the day.
“Eat, you hayseeds,” Crippin shouted. “We’ve got a long day ahead. We are going to start training for war. It is my duty to train you to kill Chitin scum and not get killed by Chitin scum. Form up on the parade ground. Ninety seconds, hayseeds. You get me?”
Jack shouted his reply through a mouthful of the sticky ration bar. It tasted sweet and meaty, with a bitter chemical aftertaste. Jack felt an immediate burst of energy both physically and mentally. He dressed and was out the door before the last bite was in his stomach.
Once in line, the recruits were marched off the parade ground and up the hill. The march was easier in daylight and with a full stomach and the energy provided by whatever secret ingredient had been included in the dark, heavy ration bar. From the top of the hill, Jack could see the training ground—a series of hills all topped with small metallic fortifications.
Between the hills lay a series of well-trodden paths and obstacles of various kinds. Some obstacles were designed to be climbed, others to be crawled under. Many were lined with coils of barbed wire.
“Today is just to warm you up,” Crippin said. “You will run the course and complete the exercises. If anybody falls too far behind, they will wish they hadn’t.”
Crippin led the recruits off the hill toward the start of the course. She lined up the recruits at the start point. “You can’t get lost,” Crippin said. “You can’t avoid any exercise. You start when I tell you. You stop when I tell you. Move these hayseeds out, Sergeant.”
Hacker started shoving the recruits forward one at a time until the whole squad got the message and started moving down the hill toward the training course.
It was exciting at first. Jack enjoyed the open running between obstacles. The various obstacles were easy at first. Whether he was climbing or crawling, Jack threw himself at the obstacles with enthusiasm. He had never had much time for crawling in the dirt. He had always enjoyed less strenuous activities, but today, he was pumped.
The run between each obstacle was the easiest part for Jack and soon, he was leading the field. The ration filled his stomach but didn’t weigh him down, and the chemicals rushing through his veins kept him focused and enthusiastic.
Jack ran toward a rifle range. A number of rifles lay chained to a table. Beyond the table stood a line of targets, each one further away, at hundred-meter intervals.
Crippin stood to one side of the table, a small case of ammunition at her side. She handed out magazines to each recruit.
“You have five shots, hayseeds. Hit your targets or I’ll have Sergeant Hacker hit you. The military doesn’t have bullets for you to waste on poor shooting. We have got to save all our ammunition for killing the damn Chitin scum. Hit your targets.”
Jack snatched up a rifle. It was lighter than it looked. It was formed from the same composite as the hull of a spacecraft. Jack looked down the sights to the first target. The telescopic effect of the rifle sight made the target appear within arm’s reach. The furthest appeared a mere stone’s throw away.
“Load your weapon, hayseed,” Crippin shouted. “You are not here to enjoy the scenery. This is where we turn hayseeds into Chitin killers. Load your weapon.”
The weapon was simple by design. It was easy to understand and easy to use. The place where the ammunition was to be inserted was clearly marked. Jack rammed the magazine home, chambered a round, and took aim.
The rifle kick was enormous. It powered back into Jack’s shoulder. The force pushed Jack backwards through the dirt. He recovered himself and looked down the sight at his target. He’d hit the bullseye.
“Good first shot, hayseed. But there will be more than one Chitin out there for you to kill.”
Jack fired his next shot at the target two hundred meters away. Another bullseye.
As Jack was sighting the next target, a recruit came running up to the range. Jack heard the panting of someone running hard. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, someone bumped into him. His finger touched the trigger and the rifle fired. It slammed awkwardly into his shoulder. The rifle was not sitting true when it fired and the butt of the rifle sent a sudden jolt of pain shooting through Jack’s shoulder. Jack looked to see who had bumped into him. He looked over to the grinning, grubby face of Torent.
“I’ll show you how to shoot, Forge,” Torent said. He quickly loaded his rifle, sighted his
target, and pulled the trigger, all in an instant.
“Bullseye, hayseed.” Crippin was looking down range through her small set of binoculars.
Torent looked at Jack and grinned. He fired his remaining shots in quick succession, then dropped the weapon and was off running.
Jack took aim at the next target. He fired his shot.
“Another bull, hayseed,” Crippin shouted. “You missed one. Don’t miss another. We haven’t got spare ammunition for you to miss, hayseed.”
Jack took careful aim at the next target. Even through the sights, it appeared distant. A strong heat haze made the target wobble. Jack relaxed and fired.
“No bull,” Crippin said, “but at least you hit the target. If that had been a Chitin’s massive head, you would have hit it alright.”
A group of recruits came panting and puffing to the table with the rifles. In a moment, every rifle was taken and shots were being fired every couple of seconds.
Bill Harts came up to the table and grabbed the rifle next to Jack. He loaded, took aim, and fired. “Missed,” he said.
“Just relax,” Jack said. “Take aim. Breathe in. And then fire.”
Bill took aim again. His response told Jack what he needed to know. Bill had missed again.
“Take a bit more time to get your sights in. Relax. Don’t jerk the rifle when you fire.”
“Concentrate on your own targets, hayseed,” Crippin shouted. “If we need rifle training officers here, we will request them from the military command. But they won’t be sending us any. All soldiers who can shoot are out there killing Chitins.”
Jack heard the familiar buzz of Hacker’s tazer close by. He put the noise out of his mind and took aim. Jack completed his rounds and recorded three bulls. If it wasn’t for Torent, he would have had a clean sweep. Jack dropped his rifle and ran off, determined to catch and overtake Sam Torent.
Jack Forge, Fleet Marine Boxed Set (Books 1 - 9) Page 2