by Jerry Aubin
Zax pointed to a boy sitting to his right.
“Sir—two reasons. The first was time. Building something large enough to hold our agriculture space alone would have taken a long time. Their mining technology allowed them to hollow out an asteroid far faster than they would have been able to build an artificial shell. The second reason was resources. Building something so massive would have consumed huge amounts of material. Hollowing out an asteroid actually generated a lot of what they needed to construct the Ship while they were building it.”
“Great answer. Twenty-five credits.” Zax pointed out the window. “We’re facing the forward part of the Ship. This is where the Bridge, Flight Ops, and the hangar are all located. It’s also where most of us spend the vast majority of our lives in the Crew spaces that are concentrated at this end. As we head further aft we crossover into the much larger spaces that are primarily devoted to civilians.”
Zax was about to continue when a boy towards the back of the shuttle spoke.
“Maybe if we come across that other group of humans again, we can convince them to take all the stupid civilians off our hands and free up all of this space for something useful.”
“What?” Zax was shocked by the cadet’s reference to “other humans” and allowed far more anger into his voice than intended. A hush fell over the shuttle as Zax scowled at the boy. “What other humans are you talking about?”
“Ummm—,” the boy gulped and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Sir—I overheard some other cadets talking about it in the mess hall. They said we discovered a human spacecraft the other day, and it’s being kept secret from the Crew.”
“Five hundred demerits for spreading rumors!” Zax glared at everyone in the shuttle to be sure they appreciated the severity of the message he intended with such a large number of demerits. “I was working in Flight Ops when this discovery occurred, and I can tell you no such thing happened. The Flight Boss himself verified the imagery with Alpha, the core of the Ship’s AI. Alpha confirmed the unknown fighter we encountered was not human. I don’t know who started this rumor, but I promise you if the Boss ever gets wind of it, he will personally dump everyone involved out an airlock.”
Warning imparted, Zax changed the subject. “We are now approaching two key structures at the aft end of the Ship. Who can tell me what these do?”
Zax tried to continue his lesson, but it was obvious the Gammas’ excitement had faded after their classmate got punished so severely. Zax’s was gone too, though for an entirely different reason. He was perplexed about why anyone working Flight Ops would have started the rumor about other humans—particularly given the clarity of the Boss’s instructions about not doing so. It might have been Kalare given how upset she had been the next day, but even she probably wasn’t crazy enough to do something like that. Besides, who would ever listen to her if she did. He eventually abandoned the lesson plan, and they all sat in morose silence for the last few mins until the shuttle returned to the hangar.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A lot.
Zax and Kalare reunited with Mikedo 130 mins later. She spoke as she led them from the dojo to a new location. “You two are in luck today. You’ll be working with a Marine instructor, but your first session won’t include any Marine cadets. With Landfall coming up, they’ve started training the group who will become Colonial Security. Some of them will be older and bigger than you are, but I’m guessing you won’t get as physically punished as you will when it’s Marine cadets doing the work.”
They reached an open hatch and Mikedo stood back to allow Kalare and Zax to enter first. Zax cautiously glanced around as he passed through the hatch. The new dojo was substantially larger than the first. All heads turned towards them as they entered, and Zax’s breath caught as he spotted Cyrus front and center among the group of cadets already present. Cyrus’ expression remained neutral, but he alone continued to stare at the new arrivals after all of the other cadets had turned their attention back to the instructor.
The instructor looked over his shoulder and addressed Mikedo. “Nice of you folks to join us, ma’am. I wasn’t aware the Ship’s clocks kept time differently for Flight personnel than they do for us poor slobs here in Marine Country.”
The man was a Marine sergeant who stood well taller than two meters and appeared to be constructed entirely of solid muscle. The instructor’s bald head perched upon a neck which was thicker than Zax’s waist. He stood with his arms on his hips, and even at rest the veins in his biceps bulged to the point where Zax swore he could see the man’s pulse.
“Point taken, Sergeant Quentor. My sincere apologies for our late arrival, but it’s entirely my fault. Please don’t take it out on my two cadets.” With that, Mikedo gestured for Zax and Kalare to join the rest of cadets on the line which faced the center of the dojo.
“As I was saying.” the sergeant shot one more glance back over his shoulder at Mikedo, “we’re going to work with you Flight pukes over the next two weeks in a likely futile attempt to give you one-tenth the hand-to-hand combat ability we expect Marine cadets to possess after one day. Things work differently here than what you fine ladies and gentlemen are used to, but I know all you folks from Flight are so incredibly intelligent you’ll catch on right quick. Marines aren’t so smart, and you’ll soon learn a lot of what we do revolves around the number three since that’s as high as many of us can count.”
Zax assumed the self-deprecating jokes were a trap so he did not so much as crack a smile while the Marine continued.
“I know when Flight folks spar during training it’s done for points and tightly refereed with the match declared over once a certain score is earned by the victor. We don’t track points here, but instead allow matches to continue until one of the opponents gives up.” The sergeant held up three fingers. “There are three ways for you to stop a sparring match. The first is to say the word ‘concede.’ The second, for those instances where perhaps you’ve lost too many teeth and can’t speak clearly, is to tap the deck three times in quick succession. The final way to quit is to wind up unconscious. We do our best to not allow your opponent to beat on you too much longer once he’s knocked you out, but I’d be lying if I said it never happens.”
There were a few nervous laughs from the cadets, but it seemed perfectly obvious the sergeant was being serious.
“We enforce three simple rules during our sparring sessions.” The Marine held up three fingers once again and after a moment dropped two of them. “The first rule is the match ends immediately when an opponent quits or an instructor calls a halt. The second rule is this is not a random brawl, so we expect you to apply whatever techniques we’ve just taught you. The final rule is you may not intentionally harm another cadet. Mind you, we fully expect you to get hurt. A lot. But, if you do anything that clearly serves no purpose other than causing injury to your opponent, there will be consequences.
“As for what those consequences might be, I will leave to your imagination. Suffice it to say, we can get very creative here in Marine Country.” Sergeant Quentor gestured over at Kalare and Zax. “I understand you two are part of a special project, so I’ll let your officer deal with any punishment that’s required. I’ve witnessed firsthand she can be almost as creative as the average Marine, so I think she’s sufficiently competent.”
Mikedo gave a slight bow of acknowledgement and the instructor continued.
“As for the rest of you—you might be shocked to learn our officers promote Marines to sergeant based on their ability to read minds. That means I can hear the thoughts of every single one of you right now. You’re thinking about how you’re already being dumped onto a colony and can’t imagine anything worse as far as punishment goes. Well, trust me when I say I don’t think you want to put that idea to the test. Unless there are any questions, let’s get started.”
There weren’t any questions so Sergeant Quentor began his lesson. “I want to start off today by throwing you into the deep end of the pool to s
ort out who my best swimmers are—figuratively speaking of course. This will let me identify where I have to focus special attention for those who might need remedial assistance. My typical classes are filled with Marine cadets who are each as equally useless as the next, but since some of you are older than the typical first-year Marine cadet, I have a shred of hope that perhaps a few have developed a little more skill. You’re all going to get a chance to try this out, but I need a volunteer to be my first victim.”
Zax’s hand shot up. As soon as the instructor said everyone would end up doing whatever was next, he had decided to curry some extra favor by volunteering to go first.
The instructor smiled at Zax. “Well, well, well—I always love it when one of my smallest cadets ends up being the most eager. Suit up in some pads while I get myself ready.”
The smile and pleasant words failed to conceal the underlying menace in the Marine’s tone, and Zax immediately regretted his decision. He got his pads on and entered the sparring circle. He was filled with dread anticipation as the instructor walked over to the side of the dojo and opened a compartment hidden within the bulkhead. It was an equipment locker filled with an exotic assortment of weaponry and other unknown hardware.
The sergeant grabbed something that looked like a backpack and slipped the straps over his shoulders. He closed his eyes and focused on his Plug. Zax knew getting Plugged In opened the door to an amazing array of capabilities for Flight personnel and could only imagine what it might provide for Marines like Quentor. A few secs later his imagination was exceeded, and he regretted his decision to volunteer even more.
Quentor opened his eyes and grinned at Zax. What had initially appeared to be a backpack had morphed into something radically different. The original thin straps had expanded and formed a solid shell which encased the instructor’s torso. The portion on his back had split into two halves, each of which unfolded in a series of smooth movements until the sergeant’s two biological arms were joined by two mechanical ones. He stood opposite Zax, brought his two pairs of hands together for a short bow, and spoke.
“You Flight pukes only do basic combat training with each other because we expect you to stay safe on board the Ship or in one of your precious spacecraft pushing all of your fancy buttons. Marines, on the other hand, are expected to be on the ground where we often find ourselves engaged in close-quarters combat with all types of alien lifeforms—including many with different skeletal structures than humans. Today, I’m going to give you a chance to experience hand-to-hand combat against an opponent who has twice as many hands.” He turned to Zax. “Are you ready?”
Zax mimicked Mikedo’s technique and lunged at the instructor before the pleasantries were officially over. He was entirely ill-prepared for what happened next. One of the instructor’s natural arms deftly blocked his attack. The other landed a crushing roundhouse to the side of Zax’s head. The two mechanical arms went high/low, with one jabbing him in the gut and the other smashing his testicles.
For the third time in three hours Zax found himself flat on the deck with his lungs devoid of air. Despite the waves of pain and nausea, he managed a slight smile—Mikedo had definitely lied when she said earlier it was his lucky day.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It must have been the pain meds.
Zax was sore and exhausted by the end of the day exactly as Mikedo had predicted. He accompanied Kalare back to their berth in absolute silence and collapsed into his bunk without so much as removing his shoes.
Reveille sounded the next morning and Zax spent the first five mins of the day taking inventory of his pain. He didn’t attempt to list those parts of his body which hurt as that would have taken too long, but rather tried to catalog those few areas of his body which felt normal. Mikedo had slipped them a fistful of pain pills so Zax clambered out of his rack and dosed up. He doubled his allotted shower time (twenty demerits) and the hot water assisted the meds in taking the edge off his discomfort.
Zax made his way to the mess hall and spotted Kalare from a distance. She had already finished her breakfast and was focused on her slate, so he snuck by and grabbed a seat by himself out of her sight. He only had twenty mins to watch the morning newsvid and eat breakfast, and he desperately wanted to recharge and soak up some solitude.
“I sat right by the entrance so you would be sure to see me as you walked in, but somehow you managed to miss me, silly!”
Zax almost choked on a mouthful of food when Kalare’s voice startled him from behind. She flopped into the chair next to him and let loose a stream of her verbal diarrhea.
“How are you feeling today? I’m pretty sure more of my body is bruised than not. You must feel ten times worse since I know you got beat up way more! Mikedo nailed you twice and Sergeant Quentor really put you down hard! It was great when you offered to go first. Would you have still done it if his freaky extra arms had been flailing about when he asked for volunteers? At least he didn’t knock you unconscious like that one girl at the end of the day. Are you excited for weapons training today? I’ve been studying some of the different weapons systems and there’s some pretty cool stuff to learn about.”
Zax had wanted nothing to do with Kalare a few moments earlier, but for some reason he found himself greeting her craziness with a smile. It must have been the pain meds. She launched another salvo.
“I had the wildest dream last night. I was being hunted down by a pack of four-armed robots with lasers for eyes. What do you think that one means? You ever have crazy dreams like that? Do you think it means the instructor today is going to have laser eyes? That would be amazing! Who would you look at first if you had laser eyes? Are you looking at me like that wishing you had them right now? Hah! Now that I think about it, maybe laser fingers would be even better. Or maybe even just one laser finger. Maybe my pinkie!”
Zax extended a pinkie and pointed it at her while making laser noises. This sent Kalare into one of her cackling fits that lasted long enough for Zax to finish the last few bites on his plate. When she was done laughing, he asked, “Have you ever had any weapons training?”
“Yes. They brought us to the range a bunch of times in Epsilon, and we used blasters. I was always one of the best shots, but I’m guessing the Marine training will be more intense than trying to hit stationary targets.”
“Sounds like we had the same training. Why am I not surprised you were pretty good at it? I always won the shooting contests we had in Zeta. I suppose we’ll learn soon enough which of us is a better shot. Can I borrow your slate? I’d be interested in seeing some of the more advanced weapons you were reading about.”
Kalare handed it to Zax. “I’m going to go use the head while you check it out. We should start making our way to Marine Country when I get back. We need to leave enough time for you to cause another ruckus on the way over there!”
Her joke sent Kalare into another spasm of laughter. She walked across the mess hall and the echoes of her cackles only faded as the door to the bathroom closed behind her. He flipped through the weapons manual and was astonished by the tremendous variety of killing implements. One system stood out which appeared closely related to what Quentor had worn. It differed by having flexible laser cannons instead of robotic arms. It wasn’t quite the laser pinkies Kalare sought, but it wasn’t far off.
Zax stood up as Kalare returned and handed back her slate. “There’s some pretty wild stuff in there. I’m surprised you’re studying in advance of our training. It’s almost like you’re planning ahead and care about succeeding or something crazy like that. It’s unlike you.” Zax intended the last comment as lighthearted teasing and delivered it with his best attempt at a friendly smile.
Kalare grinned and replied, “Don’t worry, Zax. I still don’t really care about beating you out for the mentorship or anything like that. After my dream, I was just hoping to find laser eyes in the armory. I don’t think they would be as cool as laser pinkies, but they would still be pretty cool.” The two of them shared a lau
gh as Zax dropped his tray at the disposal station and they headed off to Marine Country together.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Non-lethal does not mean non-painful.
Mikedo snickered as Zax and Kalare limped towards her. “I said yesterday you would hurt at the end of the day, didn’t I? We’ve got a change of pace today. Our friends in the Marines aren’t quite crazy enough to push their cadets with that level of physical abuse every day, so we’ll alternate instruction between combat training and weapons training. Follow me.”
They set off and Mikedo led them through the warren of Marine Country until they entered a truly massive space. It wasn’t as big as the Flight hangar but wasn’t far off. What made it seem even bigger was the fact it was entirely empty.
Zax almost toppled over from dizziness. He wasn’t used to being in such large and wide open spaces given the generally tight confines of the Ship. There was a female Marine sergeant waiting just inside the hatch who Zax assumed was their weapons instructor. He checked the time and saw they were still a couple of mins away from the top of the hour.
The instructor turned and greeted Mikedo. She wasn’t quite as tall and muscular as Sergeant Quentor, but she wasn’t that far off. In fact, the resemblance was so uncanny she might have come from the same gene stock. Her red hair was closer to vibrant orange, and she wore it extremely high and tight. “Good morning, ma’am. Great to see you again. I’ve got your two plus a group of Marine cadets this morning. They will be here in ninety-seven secs.”
Zax almost guffawed at her precision, but then a group of Marine cadets arrived precisely ninety-seven secs later. He initially assumed the instructor had used her Plug to check their location and pace, but then realized they had entered at exactly the top of the hour and concluded it must not be a coincidence. He marveled at how the Marines had turned punctuality into an exact science. They filed in and arranged themselves in a semicircle facing the instructor.