Pursuit of Valor (The Tarvaax War Book 1)

by Tripp Ellis

  Dean didn't say anything. He just turned and ambled away. The rest of his thugs followed after him.

  Sergeant Cole extended a hand and helped Zack to his feet. "You ought to start picking on people your own size."

  Zack chuckled. "I like a challenge. What can I say."

  “That’s what I like about you, kid."

  “I’m lucky you showed up when you did.”

  “Yes, you are. Cole motioned to his car. "Hop in. I'll give you a ride home."

  “It's just down the block."

  “If you’d rather walk in the rain, that's fine by me." Cole walked back to his car and slipped into the driver seat. He pulled the door shut, and Zack ran around to the passenger side.

  “Where’s your home?”

  “Just down on the left. 11975." Zack was drenched, and the cool air blowing out of the vent made him shiver.

  Sergeant Cole turned the fan down.

  “What are you doing in this neighborhood, Sergeant?"

  “Looking for you.”

  “Am I in some kind of trouble?”

  "You're used to getting in trouble, aren't you?"

  “I seem to find my fair share of it,” Zack said.

  "I wanted to talk to you about your test scores, and your compatibility."

  “Did I do okay?”

  “You could say that.” Sergeant Cole tried to hold back his delight.

  13

  “I'd like to offer you a challenge contract for the Mechanized Infantry,” Sergeant Cole said. "I can guarantee you a shot at pilot training, provided you make it through MCRD.”

  “MCRD?”

  “The Marine Corps Recruit Depot.”

  “I don't know. I have to think about it."

  Rain poured down, glazing the windows. The drone of the wiper blades swished back and forth as Zack sat in the passenger seat of Sergeant Cole's vehicle. It was a brand-new Vexan Coupe. Plush leather interior, hand stitched seams, and sleek instrument gauges. Fully automated, but with the option for manual driving. It was far more than someone of his pay grade could afford. But Cole was far from your average Gunnery Sergeant. He was the face of the Space Corps, and the United Planetary Defense Force. He had book deals and product endorsements. His latest book had sold to one of the major movie studios and was soon to become a blockbuster action flick.

  "You had one of the highest compatibility scores we've ever seen. And your resiliency test was perfect. I think you'd make a great mech pilot. Perhaps one of the best. Especially with your legacy." Sergeant Cole took a solemn pause. "Some people go their entire life without finding their true calling. I think the Space Corps could be yours."

  “What if I don't make it as a pilot. I don't want to get stuck as a maintenance tech.”

  “I understand, son. Though, I think you'd be outstanding at whatever you chose to do.”

  “I appreciate the confidence."

  “With a challenge contract, you are under no obligation until you complete all phases of your training and accept the position as a mechanized pilot. You won't get stuck anywhere you don't want to be."

  Zack pondered this for a moment.

  "I'm going to be honest with you. The Federation needs your skill. Young men with your aptitude are few and far between. Everybody wants to make a difference, yet so few actually do. You have an opportunity to defend this Federation. To save lives. To change the course of history. You can either take the contract and fulfill your destiny, or ignore the opportunity and always wonder what your life could have been."

  “No pressure, or anything.”

  Cole chuckled. "Sorry. I didn't mean to lay it on so thick. But when I see talent, I don't want to let it go to waste.” Cole paused. "Take some time. Think about it. Discuss it with your family.”

  “I don't think my family really cares what I do. Well, my foster mom does.”

  "At the end of the day, you're the one who must live with yourself, and the decisions you make. No one else."

  Zack sat in silence for a moment.

  “If there's anything you need, or you have any questions, here's my card. Call me anytime. Day or night." Cole handed him a thin piece of smart glass about the size and thickness of a credit card. It had his picture and information on the face of it. All Zack had to do was press a button and it would connect directly to the Gunnery Sergeant.

  “Thanks. And, thanks for saving my butt back there."

  Cole smiled. "No problem. That's what Marines do for each other."

  Zack grabbed the handle and was about to push open the door. He hesitated a moment and looked back at Sergeant Cole. "Especially with my legacy? What did you mean by that?”

  Cole looked a little surprised. “Your biological father was in the Marine Corps.”

  "I know. But he was a supply clerk."

  Cole had a knowing glint in his eyes. “He was far from a supply clerk."

  Zack's eyes widened. “Did you know him?”

  Cole nodded. "We served together. Your father saved my life."

  It was a lot of information for Zack to process. "I was told he was killed during a bombing at OP Reticulon.”

  Cole shook his head.

  “Why wasn't I told the truth?"

  "A lot of the details of your father's career require security clearance.” Cole pursed his lips. He knew the boy deserved to know the details of his father's service, but the data was still classified. "Tell you what. I'm going to see if we can get the classified restriction lifted. Or, somehow, get you clearance."

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  "I'll try to get you that information whether you sign up or not. I promise.”

  Zack thanked him again and pushed open the door. He ran up the walkway to the lobby of the apartment complex. He pushed in through the glass double doors and made his way to the stairwell. The elevator was especially finicky during storms. He spiraled his way up 29 floors to his apartment. He was used to it, but his quads still burned by the time he reached the top. There was a light mist of sweat in the small of his back that stuck to his shirt.

  Bob was on his first six-pack, so he wasn't at his most belligerent. Still, his personality couldn't exactly be described as charming. "I hope you were out looking for a new job. Don't think you're just going to lollygag around without one.”

  “What, like you?”

  “Bob glared at him."

  “I'm on disability.”

  Zack rolled his eyes. Bob had faked an injury, and collected a nice settlement from his previous employer, plus a monthly disability check. He had blown the lump sum fairly quickly on booze and gambling. Now they were scraping by month to month, and Zack's paycheck helped make ends meet.

  “Actually, I've been interviewing for a new job. I think I might have found one."

  14

  "You don't have what it takes to become a Marine," Bob slurred.

  Zack clenched his jaw, seething. "We'll see about that.”

  Grace looked on with worried eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “I’m still thinking about it.”

  "They'll have you off on some godforsaken planet, fighting a war that no one cares about. You will be cannon fodder.”

  “Have you been watching the news?” Zack said. “The Federation is under attack.”

  "What happens on Zeplovia is none of our business."

  “First Zeplovia. Then us.”

  “That recruiter doesn't care about you,” Bob said. “He cares about his bonus check for every sucker he enlists.”

  “Gunnery Sergeant Cole is not a recruiter. He's a war hero.” Zack had enough of Bob and stormed to his room. He flopped onto his bed and folded his hands behind his head.

  A few minutes later, Grace knocked on his door. She pushed it open a crack. "May I come in?”

  Zack nodded.

  She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

  “You don’t think I should enlist, do you?”

  Grace hesitated a moment. "I t
hink you should do whatever you feel in your heart to do. I just worry about you, that's all. If you want to join the Marine Corps, I will support your decision 100%. And then I don't think I'll ever get another night’s sleep again."

  “Sergeant Cole says I have a gift.”

  “You have many gifts.”

  Zack was silent a moment. He was ready to get as far away from Bob as possible. "Why do you stay with him? He treats you like crap. He's never sober."

  “He wasn't always that way," she said, sheepishly.

  “You deserve better.”

  “We’re talking about your life, not mine.”

  “If my life is open for debate, so is yours,” Zack protested.

  “There's a good man deep down inside of Bob. At least there used to be.”

  “I’ve never seen it.”

  “Don't you remember all the trips to museums, amusement parks, and ball games when you were a kid?"

  They were vague recollections of the distant past. "Sort of."

  "I'm too old to start over. And where would I go anyway? I guess I'm waiting around, hoping for a miracle." Grace sighed. "I miss the man he used to be."

  “How much did you know about my biological parents?"

  "They didn't tell us much. Just that your father was killed in the war, and your mother in a car accident.”

  “They didn't tell you anything about his service?"

  Grace shook her head. There was a long moment of silence. "Just promise me one thing. If you join the Space Corps, please take care of yourself out there. And come home in one piece.”

  "I will."

  “And you have to keep in touch. You don't have to check in with me every day. But once a week would be nice."

  Zack laughed. "I haven't even made up my mind yet, and you guys are all ready to ship me off.”

  "I know you. I've seen that look in your eyes before. When you get something in your head, there's no getting it out. I've never met anyone as determined or focused as you. I'm sure that will serve you well wherever you go."

  15

  “Do you want to go now, or after you graduate?" Sergeant Cole asked.

  “I want to get out of here as soon as possible." Zack said. "But I still want to graduate high school."

  “No problem. You can test out of high school and earn your degree. I can have you off to MCRD in a few weeks."

  “Sounds good to me."

  “You have to take your Federation Services Vocational Aptitude Battery, as well as a few other tests. Then you need to pass your Physical Strength Test, which shouldn't be a problem. And you'll need to be cleared by medical. How are your injuries coming along?"

  "Pretty good, I guess,” Zack said. "Still sore."

  "Your arm and nose will need to be fully healed. You can't show up to the recruit depot wearing a cast." Cole called for a corpsman.

  Petty Officer Edwards appeared within moments. "Yes, Sergeant?"

  “Give recruit Salvator a shot of compound RXV9.”

  "Yes, Sergeant." The corpsman stepped out of the compartment and returned shortly with an injection gun. There was a small cartridge of clear liquid loaded into the receiver.

  “What is that?" Zack asked.

  It's a regenerative compound, exclusive to the military. Far more powerful than anything you could receive in a civilian hospital.”

  Zack rolled up his sleeve, and the corpsman pressed the injection nozzle against his skin. He pulled the trigger, and Zack felt a slight sting, followed by the rush of fluid into his deltoid. Warmth emanated from the injection site and flowed throughout his body. It was like someone had turned up the heat in the compartment. Zack's skin was beginning to grow slick with perspiration. His eyes grew concerned. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

  "Don't worry. The sensation will pass in a few moments." Cole handed a PDU to Zack. "All I need you to do is sign here."

  Zack took the device and stared at the blank signature space. "How long is my commitment for?"

  "Because of the advanced training, we require mechanized pilots to serve six years."

  Zack took a deep breath. Six years seemed like such a long time. At this point, it was a third of his life.

  Sergeant Cole’s intense eyes watched with anticipation as Zack pondered this decision. Then he smiled as Zack finally signed his name.

  He handed the tablet back, and a mix of excitement and regret washed over his face.

  “You made the right decision. Welcome to the Marine Corps."

  16

  Zack got a wake-up call at 0400 hours. He hadn't slept much the night before in anticipation of the day's events. Plus, his roommate snored. He was staying at a budget motel near the Military Entrance Processing Station. This was where they evaluated recruits to see if they were qualified and ready for military service. If you didn't pass MEPS, you didn't get into the military.

  All of the new recruits from the city had checked in the day before. The hotel was under contract with the UPDF. Paul Wilson had been assigned as Zack’s roommate. Wilson was going into the Navy, and wanted to fly fighters. It had been his lifelong dream since he was a kid. His father was a pilot, and his grandfather before him. The MEPS liaison thought he and Zack would be a good match.

  Zack pulled himself out of bed, showered, and went down to the lobby for the complementary breakfast, courtesy of the Marine Corps. He was at the station by 0500 hours to begin processing.

  The recruits passed through the security scanners, and were greeted by the liaison for their specific branch of service. They were given a briefing of the day’s events, then shuffled down to medical. The doctors examined the recruits with a fine tooth comb, leaving no stone unturned. They were poked and prodded and probed. It was awkward to say the least.

  Zack took a slew of tests to evaluate his physical and mental condition. Hearing, eyesight, colorblindness, blood pressure, etc. The recruits were given a drug and alcohol test, and blood was drawn to check for pathogens. Female recruits were also tested for pregnancy.

  After the medical evaluation, Zack was required to take the Federation Services Vocational Aptitude Battery test. It was a little ridiculous, because Zack had already established an aptitude for the mechanized infantry. But the inane bureaucracy of the military contained numerous inexplicable redundancies.

  Each recruit underwent an extensive background check. They were fingerprinted and retinal scanned. Their DNA was processed through the database, and all of their biomarkers were cross-referenced against the Federation’s criminal information records.

  Zack was fully healed by the time he took his tests at MEPS, but he still had a little weakness in his arm. He was repeatedly drilled by the Staff Sergeant about his medical condition. Cole had advised him not to mention the broken arm. He said there were only three correct answers to give the NCOIC (Noncommissioned Officer in Charge) at MEPS—no, none, and never.

  "Have you ever broken any bones?" Staff Sergeant Bowen asked.

  "No, Sergeant," Zack said.

  "Have you ever done any drugs?"

  "No, Sergeant.”

  “Not even a little bit? One toke at a party?"

  "No, Staff Sergeant."

  "You sure about that?"

  “Positive."

  “You know, lying to me is a criminal offense, punishable by up to five years in jail."

  "I'm not lying, Sergeant."

  Bowen folded his arms and gave Zack the evil eye. "Okay. This is the last chance to tell me the truth.”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Then can you explain to me how your test results came back positive for majuva?”

  Zack's face twisted up. "That's impossible. I've never smoked majuva.”

  "That's not what the test says.”

  “The test is wrong." Zack was emphatic.

  The Staff Sergeant assumed a casual demeanor and tried to downplay the significance of it. "It's no big deal. You're not gonna get disqualified for it.” He leaned in and whispered, “Just
between you and me, you’ve at least tried it once in your life?"

  "No, Sergeant. I haven't." Zack stared back at him with unflinching eyes.

  Bowen glared at him for a long moment, waiting for him to crack, but he never did. "I'm just messing with you. Your drug test came back clear."

  Zack breathed a sigh of relief. He knew he hadn't done any drugs, and he didn't appreciate the mind game one bit. But he figured it was the first of many to come.

  “You sure you haven’t broken any bones?”

  "I'm positive."

  “Okay. Just checking.” Bowen said. “And you’re not aware of any physical characteristic that would prohibit you from performing your obligations.”

  “No, Sergeant.”

  Zack was able to pass his physical fitness test with ease. The PFT required 3 pull-ups—Zack did 20. He was allotted 28 minutes for a 3 mile run and finished in 17. Then the recruits had to perform a duck walk. Zack didn't have a problem with it. But he couldn't for the life of him figure out what the purpose of this exercise was. Some recruits just couldn't do it. They’d take a few steps and topple over. Failure to complete the duck walk was grounds for disqualification. For those that failed, they could apply for a waiver, and come back in a month to retake the test. Zack saw Paul Wilson topple over each time he tried. He felt bad for him. Wilson looked crestfallen when he got a temporary DQ.

  After all the paperwork and processing was complete, Zack took his oath of enlistment. “I, Zack Salvator, do solemnly swear to support and defend the Constitution of the United Federation against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United Federation and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

  With the processing complete, Zack was shuttled back home. He would ship out for boot camp the following Monday.

  17

  "Are you nervous?" Matt asked.