Pursuit of Valor (The Tarvaax War Book 1)

by Tripp Ellis

“It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s going to be a big deal when they send me the bill. Do you have any idea what an ambulance ride and an ER visit cost?”

  Zack shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to the ER before.”

  Bob scowled at him. “Don’t be a smart ass.”

  “What the hell did you do to get into the ER?”

  “I got in a fight.”

  “Looks like you got your ass kicked.”

  “Brilliant observation,” Zack said dryly. He started for his room, but Bob wasn’t going to let him off so easily.

  “Don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”

  Zack sighed and faced Bob.

  “You’re going to pay for the charges, do you understand me?”

  “Fine.”

  “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life dodging bill collectors on account of you.”

  “I said okay.”

  “And how exactly do you plan on paying for it, seeing as how you don’t have a job anymore.”

  Zack’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, I don’t have a job anymore?”

  “Your boss called. He was short-staffed tonight. He says if you can’t show up on time, you don’t need to show up at all.”

  Zack deflated and grumbled under his breath. His foster mom had heard the commotion and rushed into the living room. Her eyes filled with concern at the site of Zack's mangled condition. “Are you okay? We were worried sick about you.”

  The we in the statement was a complete fabrication.

  “I’m fine, Grace. I promise.”

  “Are you hungry? You want something?”

  “Oh, don’t coddle him,” Bob said, exasperated.

  Grace shot him a nasty look.

  Bob didn’t want to get into a fight with Grace at this time of night. He backed off and listed into his chair to finish watching his TV show.

  “I’ll heat up some leftovers for you,” Grace said.

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Grace reheated the Parmesan chicken. It was synthetic from the food fabricator—but it wasn’t bad. He excused himself, cleaned his dish, and headed down the hall to his room. He put in his ear buds, flopped on his bed, and listened to some music until he fell asleep.

  By the morning, Zack had dark black circles under his eyes. He was feeling worse than the night before. His neck was stiff and his head was still throbbing. At least his vision was clear.

  The smell of bacon, eggs, and fresh coffee filled the air. Zack perked up at the aroma. He rolled out of bed and put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. He pushed into the hallway and strolled into the kitchen.

  Grace gasped a little when she saw him. “That looks awful. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Zack nodded.

  “I made your favorite. Real bacon. Real eggs.”

  Zack looked impressed. Real bacon and eggs were hard to come by. “Thanks, Grace.”

  “The kid goes out, starts fight, and winds up in the hospital, and you reward him?” Bob said, looking hung over.

  Grace glared at him.

  Zack inhaled his meal and did his best to ignore Bob. After breakfast, he got ready for school and headed out.

  He made his way down the street and waited at the bus stop for about 15 minutes. It wasn’t unusual for the automated buses to be behind schedule. Kids could linger in the doorway, preventing it from closing. Due to safety protocols, the bus wouldn’t move unless everyone was in their seat, and the door secure. There were video cameras on board, and the students were monitored from the transportation hub. A supervisor could yell at them, and the students could be reprimanded if things got out of hand. Facial recognition ID’d and tracked everyone, so it was hard to get away with anything. Still, some kids tried. And some of the more creative ones got away with things.

  Everyone stared at Zack as he stepped on the bus. A hush fell over the crowd of rambunctious students for a moment. The news had already circulated through the student body. Everyone knew Zack had gotten his ass kicked. Some looked upon him with sympathy. For others, it was just further confirmation not to cross paths with Dean Dully. And there were a couple of Dean’s buddies who felt compelled to hurl insults at Zack.

  “What happened to you, loser? You fall down?” one of Dean’s goons said. He and his buddy burst into laughter.

  Zack pretended to lunge for them, and the two goons flinched. They were nothing without Dean Dully to back them up.

  “Just wait. Dean’s going to kick your ass again.”

  Zack ignored them and plodded toward the back of the bus. He took a seat next to Isaac, and the bus rolled away.

  “You look like crap,” Isaac said.

  “It’s not that bad. Black eye, broken nose, broken arm—total chick magnet.” Zack smiled optimistically. “You watch, I’ll have girls asking to carry my books for me.”

  “I feel terrible.”

  “You’d feel worse if you were me.”

  Isaac frowned. He hunched over, looking even smaller.

  The bus pulled into the parking lot with a few minutes to spare. Zack and Isaac filed off, and strolled toward the main building. They pushed through the double doors and headed toward the senior lockers. Isaac’s eyes widened with fear, and he froze in his tracks—Dean Dully was at the end of the hallway. He hadn’t caught sight of the two yet, but it was only a matter of time. Isaac abruptly spun around and headed in the opposite direction. He looked back over his shoulder and called to Zack in a shaky voice. “I’ll catch you in English.”

  Zack nodded and looked back down the hallway at Dean Dully. This time the ogre was staring back at him.

  Zack took a deep breath and marched forward.

  Dean had a cocky smirk on his face. Zack wanted nothing more than to wipe it off, but now wasn’t the time or place. If Zack had learned anything, it was that he didn’t have the skill or physical ability to match the ogre. If he was going to get revenge, he was going to have to find another way. In the meantime, his first priority was to survive the day—which wasn’t looking too likely at this point.

  The two never broke eye contact as Zack trudged down the hallway. Dean grinned, thoroughly impressed with his handiwork. “I’m going to hit you even harder next time.”

  “I hope so. You hit like my sister.”

  Dean’s grin vanished, and his face twisted up. Anger flushed his face red, and he looked like he was about to pounce. But Principal Nakadate strolled around the corner at just the right moment to preempt the strike.

  Zack took this opportunity to put as much distance between him and the ogre as possible.

  “You just sealed your fate,” Dean yelled after him.

  Zack smiled.

  “Mr. Dully!” Principal Nakadate said. “Did you just threaten another student?”

  The meathead stammered, “No sir. Me and Salvator are friends. I’m just messing with him.”

  The principal’s eyes glanced down the hall at Zack, then back to Dean. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened. Dean’s reputation was known to faculty and staff. “I don’t think Mr. Salvator needs to be messed with in his current situation. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “He looks fine to me.”

  “May I remind you, Mr. Dully, one more infraction involving violence of any kind, and you will be expelled and forced to repeat your senior year. You don’t want that, do you?”

  Dean smiled. “I kind of like being a senior.”

  Principal Nakadate was confounded. There was no rationalizing with this neanderthal. “Wouldn’t you rather be out there attending college or in the workforce next year?”

  “Dean shook his head. Not really.” I mean, seriously, go ahead. Expel me. Gives me more free time, and no homework. You people are morons if you think that is some kind of punishment.” Dean chuckled and walked away.

  Principal Nakadate clinched his jaw. The kid was incorrigible.

  Zack stopped at his locker and got his book
s for first period. He made it into the classroom right as the bell rang and took a seat.

  “Please pass your homework to the front and prepare for your exam.”

  Zack cringed. He had totally forgotten about his homework, and the test. Surely getting pummeled to the brink of death was a valid excuse? He raised his hand. “Ms. Vance. About the homework and the exam… There are some extenuating circumstances that I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him, and she seemed to ignore his obvious injuries. “Oh, really? And what are your extenuating circumstances?” she asked, mocking him with air quotes.

  9

  "What exactly led you to acquire the injuries that brought you to the hospital in the first place?" Ms. Vance asked.

  "I got in a fight, ma'am."

  Ms. Vance's face twisted up in disgust. "I do not condone violence of any kind. That type of behavior is unacceptable."

  "I didn't start it."

  "I don't care who started it, Mr. Salvator." Her eyes narrowed at him. She paused a moment, contemplating his fate. "I’ll allow you to turn in your homework tomorrow. I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to finish the assignment in your current condition. As for the exam, however… this test has been on the schedule for weeks, and you should have been well aware of it."

  Zack frowned.

  Ms. Vance seemed to delight in her authority. She was notorious for being inflexible. Zack was a little surprised she allowed an exception for the homework. He ambled back to his seat and prepared to take his test.

  "May I remind you, this test represents one third of your grade. Good luck, class." She had a devious glint in her eye.

  The exam appeared on each student’s individual monitor. It was impossible to cheat because each test had been customized to the student. The numerical values in each equation were changed slightly.

  Zack proceeded to give the exam his best shot, although he hadn't even cracked his textbook in weeks. He was a crammer. He much preferred to stay up studying the entire night before the exam, so it was fresh.

  The 45 minutes allotted for the test evaporated quickly. The computer automatically locked the input fields after the allotted time. Exams were graded almost instantaneously. Within moments, Zack's grade was displayed on the screen. A smug grin curled on his face at the sight—97.

  He sat back and folded his hands behind his head.

  Ms. Vance took a seat at her desk and looked over the scores. The bell rang and the students hustled out of the classroom. Before Zack could shuffle to the exit, Ms. Vance’s stern voice called after him. "Not so fast, Mr. Salvator. Approach my desk."

  Zack exhaled with frustration, then spun around and hobbled toward her.

  "Do you mind explaining this to me?" She asked, pointing to his grade.

  Zack shrugged. "I'm good with numbers."

  Her eyes narrowed at him, incredulous. "I'm well aware of your study habits, and your apparent lack of preparation for this exam. I find it hard to believe that you could manage such an exemplary score."

  Zack scoffed. “Are you suggesting I cheated?"

  "I'm more than suggesting, Mr. Salvator. I intend to prove it. I will review the security footage and have the computer run a fraud detection algorithm."

  "Go ahead. You're not going to find anything." Zack gave her a smug grin. "If you don't mind, I've got to get to my next class."

  Zack marched out of the classroom into the bustling hallway. His mild case of senioritis was now in full force. He was tired of all the bullshit politics of this school.

  He made it through the next few classes without any major events, then headed to the cafeteria for lunch. The menus on the food fabricators were extremely limited. You could choose from pizza, cheeseburgers, something that resembled a steak, a fabricated chicken breast, or soft tacos. They all had the same nutritional content. It was just a mix of proteins, fats, and carbohydrates, combined with flavoring, coloring, and nutritional additives. The ingredients were mixed together on demand and pushed through nozzles and actuators and 3-D printed on the plate. After making a selection, the meal would appear within moments.

  Fabricated food was the standard throughout the Federation. For the most part, it was pretty good. Sometimes even excellent. Higher end fabricators could manufacture a meal that was almost indistinguishable from the real thing. But the school was cheap. Everything that came out of these fabricators was bland, and pretty much tasted the same. Zack figured school officials were skimping on the flavoring and additives, trying to make them last longer, cutting costs wherever they could.

  Zack ordered a cheeseburger. It was pretty hard to screw up, and he could always douse it with extra ketchup to enhance the flavor.

  Zack weaved his way through the sea of kids to his usual table. Matt was already seated and plowing through his meal. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a round face. He was a little thicker about the midsection than he needed to be, but he didn't seem to be concerned about it in the least. He was devouring his food.

  Matt glanced up, but didn't slow down. “Damn, son. I heard you took a beating, but I didn't expect you to look this bad."

  Zack clanked his tray down on the table and took a seat. The air was filled with chatter and the clattering of silverware against the plastic green trays.

  "You should see the other guy."

  "I saw the other guy. You need to learn how to fight."

  Zack couldn’t really disagree. He could see Dean Dully across the cafeteria, meeting with his goons. He seemed too preoccupied to start trouble. But Zack kept a cautious eye on him as he ate.

  "Mind if I join you," Issac said, stepping to the table with a tray of indiscernible slop.

  "Go right ahead," Zack said. He introduced Issac to Matt, and the two shook hands.

  Zack bit into his cheeseburger. It tasted like cardboard, but it was going to have to do.

  Matt pointed to the side of tater tots on his tray. “Are you going to eat those?”

  “Yes. I’m going to eat those,” Zack said, defensively.

  Matt backtracked. “Just checking. I wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

  “You can have whatever I don’t finish,” Zack said. He got halfway through his meal, then let Matt have the rest.

  They finished up, and when lunch was over, they headed to the auditorium for Cyrus Cole’s presentation. It was an hour that Zack would have spent in chemistry class, so lounging in the auditorium was more than a fair trade.

  The students took their seats, and after a few minutes, finally settled down. Principal Nakadate stepped on stage and strolled to the lectern. “I’m pleased to introduce a Federation hero, to whom we all owe a debt of gratitude. Please give a warm Spartan welcome to Gunnery Sergeant Cyrus Cole.”

  The auditorium erupted in applause.

  Sergeant Cole stepped on stage in his dress blues and marched to the podium. His medals glistened in the bright stage lights. He shook hands with the principal on the way. He paused for a moment as he surveyed the crowd of high school seniors. His voice was gruff and stern. No nonsense. His steely eyes looked as if they were piercing into your soul. His presence commanded respect. The auditorium grew silent.

  “Good afternoon!”

  “Good afternoon,” the students replied.

  “I am Gunnery Sergeant Cyrus Cole of the Space Corps Marines. I’d like to thank Principal Nakadate for allowing me to speak today. As you know, our Federation is under attack. Our way of life, our very existence is threatened. The Space Corps Marines are on the front lines every day, defending our freedoms. If you are looking for the ultimate challenge, to prove yourself mentally and physically, to be a member of the galaxy’s most fearsome fighting force, then look no further than the Space Corps Marines. Ready to mobilize at a moments notice, we are the first to go, and the last to know. For over 640 years we have protected freedom and democracy. We’ve fought in places like Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, Ceti Reticuli, Draconis Major, and hundreds of other hell holes acros
s the galaxy. Our mechanized infantry is one of the most lethal in history. I’m here to find a few good recruits. Not everyone has what it takes to become a Marine. And even fewer possess the natural aptitude to pilot a mechanized unit.”

  Cole displayed an image of an MAV–X9 on a massive screen behind the podium. There were wide eyes among the boys in the audience who gazed at the vehicle in awe.

  “This is a state-of-the-art mechanized attack vehicle. Or, as we affectionately refer to them, Mavericks,” Cole continued. “The X9 is the most technologically advanced MAV in the galaxy. Composite armor plating. Z-core extended life fuel-cell. And the Evenflow™ synaptic interface. But it takes a special person to pilot one of these bad boys. Only a select few possess the necessary brain structure to interface seamlessly with the device. The unit is an extension of the operator. In the right hands, there is only .002 milliseconds of latency between the pilot’s input and the actual movement of the articulated arms. In the heat of battle, every millisecond counts.

  “The neural interface provides real-time feedback to the operator. But if the operator is not perfectly compatible with the device, the sensory input can result in overload and brain trauma.”

  Some members of the crowd lost their enthusiasm.

  “You will all undergo mandatory testing for compatibility. For those who are a match, you will be given the opportunity to serve the Federation as a Space Corps Marine in the mechanized infantry. Plus, there is an enlistment bonus of 100,000 credits if you sign up.”

  10

  “Where are you going?” Isaac asked.

  Zack plowed his way through the swarm of students in the aisle, heading toward the stage. The presentation in the auditorium had ended, and a small crowd had gathered around Sergeant Cole. Some were asking for autographs, others were ready to volunteer.

  “I’m going to sign up to take my aptitude test,” Zack said. “Why not? 100,000 credits is a lot of money. Plus, I could get my mom out of that crappy apartment and into a house. That’s enough for a helluva down payment.”

  “They’re going to get around to all of us anyway,” Isaac said.