by Richard Fox
He set dishes into a cart and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. Standish and Hale had left hours ago, but the encounter was still fresh in his mind. That he was so close to his term of service and had no idea what he wanted to do hadn’t concerned him until the two veterans had asked him about it.
Smith rapped a data slate against the hostess station, his signal that the receipts for the evening were tallied and it was time to disperse tips. Jerry, working two tables away, looked at his smart watch and bit his lower lip in anticipation.
Roland felt a slight vibration from his own watch. His total haul for the evening…zero dollars.
“Oh, yeah!” Jerry ran over to Tanya and gave the suddenly pale woman a high five. “Hey, Mr. Smith? I quit!” The now ex-busboy tossed off his apron and strode out the front door, snapping his fingers to a tune only he could hear.
Roland looked across the other tables that were Jerry’s responsibility, knowing he’d have to clear all those too.
“Mr. Shaw,” Smith said as he walked over.
“Sir.”
“We keep our word at Deco’s. You promised Jerry your tips. I promised you’d have your job until you leave for your term. See that everything’s loaded into the washer before you leave for the evening. See you tomorrow.” Smith gave him a nod and walked off.
Roland picked up silverware…and realized he didn’t have enough money for bus fare back to the orphanage.
****
Roland walked along the sidewalk, his jacket slung over one shoulder. The air was dry and still oppressively hot, even this late at night. Phoenix summers were relentless, and he wished he’d had enough money to get a few stops closer to the orphanage in an air-conditioned bus. Light from Earth’s two full moons, Luna and Ceres, spilled across the city. He looked up at Ceres and got a glint off the Crucible star gate in orbit around the smaller moon. Some nights he could see a flash as the gate opened a wormhole to distant parts of the galaxy, but the gate had been still since he’d left work.
He’d sent a few pleading texts to Jerry for a small loan, but had received only pictures of open bottles of alcohol and scantily clad women from one of the city’s more notorious bars. Jerry had turned eighteen a few days ago and was old enough to drink. Roland had yet to go to his first bar, due to a lack of cash, not desire.
“Enjoy your first hangover, buddy,” Roland said as a picture of Jerry getting kissed on both cheeks and holding a flute of champagne came across his watch.
Roland turned a corner and slowed to a stop. The street leading through the Remembrance Park was blocked by a holo tape. Law enforcement drones hovered over the perimeter that stretched around the entire park. Inside the park, Armor Square was lit up. Ten life-sized statues of armor soldiers, hewn from marble that gleamed in the light, surrounded a raised dais.
“Oh…great.” Roland swiped across his watch and a new route taking him around the park came up. He’d get home just before sunrise.
There was a faint rustle of wind.
“The Remembrance celebration is the same day every year,” a woman said.
Roland whirled around. The speaker had ash-colored hair and a well-lined face, but her voice was that of a much younger woman. She wore a simple spacer’s jumpsuit. None of the buildings around them were lit up or looked open. Where had she come from?
“I’ve lived here since I was a kid,” he said. “The holiday was just another one of those things. It’s so close I never made it a priority to go see it. Crowds. Tourists. Hassle. What’re you doing out here so late, ma’am?”
“I’m something of a night owl. What’s your excuse? You look dressed for work.”
“Just came off shift. I’d take a bus home but…I ran out of money before I ran out of month. I’ll chalk this long, hot walk up to a learning experience.”
“I knew plenty of junior Marines that never learned that lesson. Want to cut through with me? I have clearance. Name’s Sophia.”
“That would be incredible. Roland,” he said, extending a hand to her. She looked at it for a second then shook his hand. Her grip was like solid iron, and Roland drew his hand back quickly.
Must be a prosthetic, he thought, but don’t most war wounded get vat replacements? Only takes a day or two to grow a new arm.
Sophia waved a hand across the strips of holo tape and they turned green.
“Come on,” she said. “The armor isn’t here yet, which is the only reason I’m doing this. It’s best not to anger them.” She stepped through the perimeter and walked quickly toward the monument.
“Thanks, ma’am, I appreciate this. Is it true that all the armor come here from Mars for the ceremony? I came once on a school trip when I was a kid. Saw them in formation next to the honor guard from the Marines and Army.”
“Every armor soldier that isn’t deployed off world returns for the Remembrance Day ceremony. Some of them arrive the night before and stand vigil around the monument,” she said.
“That vigil—the city’s drone cops are all over the place during that. Anyone tries to get close enough for a picture or even see the armor, they’ll end up arrested and fined. What do they even do? Have you seen it?”
“They pray—not all of them, just those that keep the Templar creed. The soldiers will leave their armor and spend from sundown to sunup in prayer. It’s sacred for them. That’s why the security is so high.”
They’d come close enough to the monument that Roland could make out details of the ten statues. All were in different poses, each wielding either a sword or a spear and the massive gauss cannons mounted on their forearms. Some had aegis shields braced against an unseen foe.
“This was the moment that won the war, right?” Roland asked. “Ten armor held back the Xaros Masters on their command ship long enough for some kind of bomb to take out all their leadership. Then their drone armadas self-destructed.”
“There were more than just the armor there that day,” she said, “but what you said is close enough to the truth.”
“I haven’t served yet,” he said, “but I can’t imagine how hard that decision must have been. All the armor died when the bomb went off. They knew they were going to die, didn’t they?”
“They knew.” She nodded slowly. “Armor are a different breed than the other services. They do not fear death. They fear failing each other, their mission. The first anniversary of the war’s end, all the surviving armor came here and they…they were mourning. Not for the loss of Elias or Colonel Carius…but that they weren’t with them when they died. Now the Templar come back every year to offer penance. Not a year goes by that I don’t try to think of some way the ten martyrs could’ve been saved.”
“What? Were you…there?”
“No,” she said curtly and walked faster.
“You sure do seem to know the armor pretty well…you think they’ll take me if I volunteer?”
She stopped and looked at him from the corner of her eye.
“Why would you want that?”
“My parents died fighting during the war. They died to keep me—to keep Terra—safe. It wasn’t as big a deal as what the armor did, but when I join up, why should I try to go for something safe and easy? That’s no way to repay my parents, to honor them.” Roland felt his cheeks flush. He’d never shared these feelings with any of his friends, much less a complete stranger he’d met in the dead of night.
“Every life lost in the war mattered equally,” she said. “No sacrifice was in vain. Not those left behind on Earth when the Xaros first arrived and wiped almost all of us out, not those who died in the final moments…or as a footnote on some alien world. I’m sorry about your parents.”
“Everyone lost someone.” Roland shrugged.
Sophia started walking again, leading him past the monument.
“The Armor Corps is always recruiting,” she said. “Their numbers have grown slowly over the years. They aren’t looking for anyone that can take the plugs…they’re looking for someone with iron in their heart.�
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“How do I know if I’ve got that? What does that even mean?”
“Their recruiting methods aren’t well-known outside Mars, but I know a few people,” Sophia said. “If they take you in, they’ll find the iron in your soul…or you’ll break. Just know that there are easier ways to serve your term.”
“You don’t think I could do it?”
“Son, one of the best Marines I ever served with failed out of selection. I knew a woman whose body was as frail as a newborn kitten, but when she donned her armor, she became a demon on the battlefield. It takes all types. The only way to know if you’ve got what it takes is to volunteer.”
They walked to the other side of the park and through the perimeter holo tape.
“Ma’am, I appreciate you taking me through…but I’m just as lost about what to do for my term as when we started talking,” Roland said.
“Ah, to be young again. Making your own decisions and taking responsibility for your life is what makes you an adult,” she said.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what did you do during the war?”
“Strike Marines for a while…then I became something else. Good luck. I hope your term of service is quick and uneventful.”
“‘Quick and uneventful,’ that sounds boring.”
“War is never something to be enjoyed.” She pointed down the street behind him. “That a cab?”
Roland turned around as an auto-cab slowed to a stop next to him. His name popped up on the passenger compartment glass with FARE PAID flashing.
“Ma’am, did you call—” He looked back, but she was gone. “I’m not telling anyone about this,” he said. “I’ll fail my service psyche eval if I start telling ghost stories. Or if I keep talking to myself.”
The cab door popped open.
Chapter 2
A bus pulled up to the curb outside a multi-story brick building with neat rows of windows. Full-motion posters extolling the excitement of the Marines, Space Navy and other arms of the Terran military services lined the ground floor on either side of open double doors.
“Welcome to Service Entrance Processing Station – Phoenix” hung in holo letters over the doors.
Roland got out of the side doors on the bus and found his backpack in the open cargo bay. Jerry came down a moment later, his face puffy and blinking hard against the sun’s rays. Roland grabbed his friend’s bag and swung it gently into his chest.
“Why did I drink so much…and for so long?” Jerry asked.
“You mentioned something about your last gasp at freedom in between barfs in the toilet that we shared in our very small room,” Roland said, shouldering his pack. As he watched families cluster around men and women his age along the wide sidewalk outside the SEPS, he felt a tug on his heart, wishing that his parents could’ve been here to see this.
“For as hard as I partied, I wish I remembered more of it. I think her name was…Dakota?” Jerry blinked hard at his smart watch and swiped to the side. “No, that’s Dakota. The one with the expensive taste in everything was Cherry.”
“I can’t believe you blew through two months’ pay in three days. Hope you handle your finances better once we get through this place.” Roland gripped the handle on his pack, ready to go inside, but his feet felt glued to the ground.
“I seem to remember you borrowing bus fare from me this morning. You wasted all your money on scout courses and a gym membership. You know the military is about to teach us all that. For free.”
Roland took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“You ready for this?” he asked.
“Service is mandatory…unless you want to run off to a squatter settlement in the Rockies and live on whatever you can grow or catch. The orphanage and busing tables sounds like paradise compared to that. Good luck with…what branch do you want?”
“I’m still not sure.”
“Should’ve figured that out sooner. Just don’t let them put you on the Venus terraforming mission. That may be the one place in the solar system worse than Mars.” Jerry slapped Roland on the arm. “See you in there. Good luck.” He walked into the SEPS building.
Roland looked up and down the row of posters as more people followed Jerry inside. Every branch looked interesting in the three- to five-second looped videos; even Orbital Artillery boasted spectacular views of the outer solar system. But there was one branch he didn’t see— Armor.
“Maybe they’re not recruiting after all.” Roland hiked his pack onto his shoulder and walked inside.
A gust of cool, moist air greeted him as he crossed the threshold. Rows of kiosks, each served by a robot with articulated arms, ran up and down the foyer. A giant flag of the Terran Union stretched almost the entire length of the room: the Western Hemisphere with a star on Phoenix, spread avian wings on either side of Earth over a gray background. One of the feathers was midnight black in remembrance of all who fell to save Earth during the Ember War. Flags of the different branches hung from just below a walkway along the walls. Roland saw the mailed fist clutching a sword blade of the Armor Corps and felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe there was a chance.
He went to a kiosk and pressed his palm to a sensor pad.
“Welcome Shaw, Roland L.” The robot’s head lifted up and its metal palms touched together twice. “You’ve arrived on your assigned report date. Well done. Please place your pack into the receptacle.”
A panel opened up at the bottom of the kiosk, just large enough for all the personal belongings Roland had been told to bring with him.
“Do you have any items on the restricted list?” the robot asked. “Penalties for failing to declare nonprescription medication, narcotics, alcohol, unauthorized electronic devices—”
“Nothing.”
“—living or dead animals, weapons, currency in excess of three hundred Terran dollars or sanctioned enemy material can be punished by assignment to the needs of the service and criminal prosecution.”
Roland did a mental repacking. His other set of civilian clothes and a few pictures of his family and one data slate didn’t strike him as anything forbidden.
“Nothing,” he repeated and put his pack into the box. The panel clicked shut.
“Thank you…Shaw, Roland L. Here is your schedule for the rest of the day at Service Entry Processing Station – Phoenix. This is now your place of duty. Follow the prompts to each evaluation station. Any attempt to leave the building without express authorized permission will be considered an attempt to go Absent Without Leave. Check tab Nine-Yankee for associated penalties. Good luck.”
A white data slate rose out of a slot, Roland’s name flashing on the screen.
“Wait…when do I get my stuff back?” he asked.
The robot motioned to the slate with one hand, down a hallway with another.
“Mom always said the military life was easy. Just do exactly as you’re told and no one will yell at you.” He took the slate and directions to the medical evaluation station popped up. He scrolled down, his brow furrowed at the rather long list of places he had to get through by the end of the day.
“At least I’ve got fifteen minutes for lunch,” he said.
****
The auditorium buzzed with hundreds of conversations between nervous recruits, all wearing gray jumpsuits with their names stenciled above a pocket on their chests. Roland caught sight of Jerry sitting in a back row, cradling his face in his palm.
“Hey, how’s it going for you?” He took a seat next to his old roommate.
“Doing all this while hung over was a bad decision.” Jerry turned his head to Roland, then looked back at his feet. “You look good in a uniform. Maybe this is for you.”
“Got it at med processing after some robot poked and prodded me. Then it was a dozen more tests for reflexes, spatial awareness, math, history of all things. You get any feedback from any of your tests?”
“Nothing more than a few disapproving glances from the cadre. Did you have to do…room twelve? I got
in there and there’s some guy in civilian clothes who just started yelling at me. I asked him if that was the room for an argument. He just kept yelling until I left.”
“I had the same thing happen to me,” Roland said, frowning. “Wasn’t in room twelve, though. I kept my mouth shut and left. Then my next assignment popped up on my slate. Weird, right?”
“I’m not entirely sure what’re we supposed to be doing here right now. With what looks like every last high school graduate in Phoenix.”
Roland swiped his finger over his data slate.
“Pre-assessment briefing…for two hours. Then dinner.”
“Two hours? How can anything in the military take that long?” Jerry tapped his own data slate. “Of course there’re no game apps on this thing.”
“Maybe we should pay attention? Could be pretty important for our term.”
“Fine. Mr. Responsibility.” Jerry leaned back and crossed his arms.
“Excuse me,” said a young Asian woman with straight hair, as she stuck her head between the two of them, “either of you have the latest bonus points list?”
“Bonus?” Roland asked.
“For colony assignments. I saw the list from yesterday, but a friend of mine from an earlier session said everything had changed. Thought maybe you two had heard something,” she said.
“Nothing.” Jerry shrugged. “I thought off-world colonies were done by lottery.”
“There are different pools of lottery,” she said. “Haven’t you two ever been off world?”
The lights dimmed and rose several times and the room grew quiet.
Roland’s slate powered off by itself and he slipped it into a thigh pocket.
A tall woman in a Marine uniform walked out onto the auditorium’s stage, her hands clasped behind her back.
“Greetings, recruits.” Her voice came from speakers built into the seats, making her words sound like they came from just a few feet away. “I am Captain Grainger, your commanding officer during your time at SEPS-Phoenix. I already had to sign expulsion paperwork on six individuals who thought they could smuggle contraband through the scanners and three more with narcotics in their system. If you’re going to do anything stupid during your term of service, do it now. Removing the exceptionally stupid and foolish at the SEPS level saves the Terran Union a significant amount of time and resources.”