by Tripp Ellis
21
"You can’t drop a bomb like that and just stop," Zack said.
“I’ll refund your money,” the oracle said.
“Now I’m intrigued."
"I'm not in the business of giving bad news."
“I think you already have.”
The oracle took a long pause.
“It’s going to take a lot more than guessing our names for me to put stock in what you say,” Zack said.
“Your father was killed in the war. Your mother was killed in a car accident shortly after that. You were raised by your foster parents, Grace and…” She paused in thought for a moment. “Robert. But he goes by Bob. You excel at athletics, but you're not a jock. You tend to keep to yourself, and you’re just quiet mostly, but you have a few close friends who you’d do anything for. You’re a protector."
Zack's disbelief was fading.
“Do I need to keep telling you things you already know?"
Zack shook his head.
"A great responsibility rests with you. The fate of many people lies in your hands. But with great responsibility comes great sacrifice. You've already made your choice to serve the Federation. And while many things are unclear, aspects of your destiny are set in stone.”
“Like what?”
"War is coming. It is inevitable. You will play a major role. But you will not return."
Zack’s jaw dropped.
Matt's face tensed with anger. "You can't say that. The guy is leaving for boot camp in a week."
“I warned you, you would not like my prophecy.” The oracle pondered Zack’s fate. “The path you must take is a treacherous one. Only through courage and honor will you achieve victory.“ She turned her gaze to Matt.
"Oh, no. I don't want to know anything about my life." He stood up and grabbed Zack by the sleeve. "We're getting out of here. Thanks for nothing, lady."
The trio staggered toward the door. They stumbled onto the sidewalk. Crowds still milled about.
“I'm sorry, man. That was a bad idea," Matt said.
"It's no big deal. Like I said, I don't buy into that stuff."
"It was weird, though," Isaac said. "She knew a lot about you."
"She's probably got a facial recognition scanner" Matt said, trying to minimize her prophecy. "It ID’d us when we walked in. She probably pulled up our background."
“I don’t know," Isaac said. "Spooky."
“I think we need to bounce back from that," Matt said. "Where to next?"
Isaac was still looking terrible. "I think I'm done for the evening. If you guys don't mind, I want to go home."
“Home is good," Zack said.
“Home it is," Matt agreed.
A car pulled alongside them, and the window rolled down. A familiar velvety voice called out to the trio. "You boys need a ride?"
Zack's eyes perked up as he saw Honor poking her head out the window. Zack tried to hide his enthusiasm, and exchanged a glance with Matt. They couldn't believe the girls were offering.
"Sure, we'll take a ride," Matt said, answering for Zack.
Honor pushed open the door and slid over. And the three of them piled into the back seat. It was a tight fit, and Honor sat on Zack's lap. He didn't mind at all. She felt amazing. He just hoped she didn't feel too good. That could be embarrassing.
An automated voice emanated from the vehicle. "Warning: maximum occupancy exceeded."
“Oh, shut up." Evelyn pressed a button on the dash to deactivate the warning. She was sitting in the driver's seat, even though the car was in automated driving mode. She looked over her shoulder at Zack and his buddies. “Where do you guys live?”
“Crescent Heights."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God. That's not too far from us. What's the address?"
“11975 Preston.”
Evelyn programmed the address into the system, and the automated car drove away. The glitz and glamour of 6th Street faded in the distance as buildings blurred past.
"I thought you ladies didn't hang out with high school kids," Zack said.
“Oh, please," Honor said. "Evelyn only thinks she's out of high school.”
Evelyn’s green eyes narrowed at Honor in the rearview mirror.
“We’re only 18. We got in with fake IDs. It's not like they’re real strict. Every club wants a high ratio of available women.”
“So you ladies are available?" Matt asked with a delicious glint in his eyes.
Evelyn shot him a look that said don't even think about it.
“Are you really leaving for boot camp? Or was that just a pickup line?” Honor asked.
“No, I’m really leaving for boot camp,” Zack said. Some of the enthusiasm had left his voice since meeting with the oracle. He had tried to dismiss her prophecy as nonsense, but there was no doubt it was bothering him.
“Thank you for standing up for me. That guy was a jerk. I'm sorry you got kicked out of the club because of it."
“It's no big deal."
“It was to me.” Honor smiled at him.
“Where do you girls go to school?” Matt asked.
“Bayside," Honor responded.
Evelyn’s face twisted up, perturbed. “Great, Tay. Tell them everything about us. What if they’re psychotic killers?”
Matt laughed. He asked Honor if Evelyn was always this friendly. That seemed to ruffle Evelyn's feathers even more.
“She's only this rude to strangers. Once you get to know her, she's not that bad."
Evelyn’s eyes seared into Honor through the rearview mirror.
“I seriously doubt these boys are killers,” Honor said. “Just look at them. They look harmless.” She smiled.
Matt looked at Evelyn then flashed a brilliant smile. It was going to take every ounce of charm he had to break through her wall. But that wasn't going to stop him from trying.
By the time they had arrived at Zack's apartment, Evelyn had warmed up a bit. She wasn't quite as snarky with her responses.
“So, are you girls really models,” Matt asked. “Or was that some BS pickup line?”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed at him. “It was not a pickup line. The three of us are going to New Vanaas after we graduate. We have a contract with a top agency and everything.”
“So, you're like models in training?" Matt was trying to get under her skin.
"No. We are New Faces.”
“Like I said. Models in training.”
Evelyn grumbled under her breath.
“Don't get me wrong, you're all hot enough to be models.”
Evelyn didn't have a snarky comeback for that one.
“What about you? What are you going to do after high school?"
Matt shrugged. "I don't know. I've been doing a lot of thinking about that recently." He glanced over to Zack. "I don't know if I can let my best friend go fight a war alone."
Zack's eyes widened.
“I think I'm gonna do it. I think I'm going to enlist."
"Are you serious?" Zack asked.
"Yeah," Matt replied.
“I don't think this is a decision you ought to make after way too many shots of tequila."
“Nonsense. I'm going with you, buddy. I don't know why I just didn't sign up when you did. Hell, we've been inseparable since the second grade. You're my best friend, man."
Zack smiled. "You've always had my back.”
“Always will.”
“Alright. Don't start getting all mushy on me."
“You guys are definitely my only friends,” Isaac said.
“Awe, the three of y'all are so cute," Honor said.
“If Matt’s going, then I’m going too,” Isaac said.
“Don’t you have a full scholarship to Vanden?” Zack asked.
Isaac nodded.
“Maybe you should stick with that?” Zack said.
“The war is going to affect every colony,” Isaac replied. "It's only a matter of time. There won’t be a college to go to if we don't stop them.”
22
Zack held on for dear life, white knuckled. His fingers dug into the armrests. If he squeezed any tighter, his fingers were going to snap. His face looked a little pale, and his skin was misted with sweat. The shuttle rumbled and shook as it rocketed through the upper atmosphere. The contents of his stomach rumbled, and he could feel the sour acidic taste creeping up in the back of his throat. This was Zack's first trip into space, and he wasn't sure he liked it.
“You better get used to this kind of thing," Matt said. “We’re going to be Marines. We’ll be constantly trekking across the galaxy, dropping in and out of hostile locations.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Maybe this is something you should have considered before you enlisted."
Zack mustered a scowl. “I'll get used to it.”
"You better hope so."
The turbulence didn’t look like it bothered Matt or Isaac one bit. The mood aboard the shuttle was electric. Most of the recruits were filled with excitement and anticipation, mixed with fear. Pride and patriotism swelled in the hearts of these would-be Marines. But they would soon learn it wasn't going to be anything like the movies.
Zack sat alongside Matt and Isaac in plush leather seats. It was the last bit of comfort they were going to get for quite a while. They were all going to go through boot camp together, but they'd certainly be split up, each going to a different specialty school afterwards.
Finally, the turbulence settled, and so did Zack’s stomach. The ride became as smooth as glass. Zack felt his ass lift from the seat—his body only held in place by his safety harness as the shuttle entered the weightlessness of space.
Zack was sitting by the window, and the view was incredible. The sun was cresting the horizon of Crylos 9, and the city lights below lit up the globe. He watched as his home world grew smaller as the SX-127 transport sped away from the planet.
“That sure is a sight to see,” Matt said in awe of the view.
“It sure is," Zack said.
Matt handed him a barf bag that he grabbed from the seat-back in front of him.
“What’s this for?”
“If you thought the air turbulence was rough, just wait till we make the quantum jump."
A wave of concern washed over Zack's face. Before he could say another word, the bulkheads rippled and warbled. A quantum distortion washed through the ship. Time seemed to dilate. It was like a bad acid trip. His stomach twisted up in knots. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like half an hour. Suddenly, everything snapped back to normal as the transport completed the transition to slide-space. It allowed the Navy to travel vast interstellar distances in the blink of an eye. The quantum drives were reverse engineered from alien technology.
Zack didn't understand how or why they worked, but he knew he didn't like the transition phase. Somehow, he managed to keep the contents of his stomach where it belonged. Some of the other recruits weren't as fortunate. And not all of them had the presence of mind to grab a barf bag. Weightless chunks of spew drifted through the cabin, and the sour smell triggered a few more sympathetic vomiters. Now Matt was the one who was feeling queasy. He held his nose and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see or smell it, or even think about it.
There were groans and grumbles from those unlucky enough to get splattered. Small air-quality drones deployed from the overhead compartments and vacuumed up the debris.
Even with the miracle of faster-than-light travel, it was still going to take several hours to get to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot. Zack figured it was best to get as much sleep as possible. He knew that was going to be a commodity during the coming months. He tilted his chair back and adjusted the headrest. It didn't take long for him to sac out.
It was 4 o’clock in the morning when the recruits arrived at Omaha Island. It wasn't an island at all, but rather a small planetoid in the Zangavi sector. The recruits might as well have been marooned on a deserted island, because they weren’t going to get off the rock until they graduated.
The shuttle landed, and the loading ramp opened. Within moments, a drill instructor stepped on board. His uniform was stiff as a board. There wasn't a wrinkle on it. It hugged his muscular form perfectly. The brim of his cover angled low, obscuring his eyes. The only thing Zack could see was his square jaw and ferocious teeth. He was thick and wide and carved out of stone. Campaign ribbons and metals lined his chest. He looked mean and angry. It sounded like his throat was full of rocks when he spoke—his vocal cords covered in nodules from years of yelling at recruits.
“I am Gunnery Sergeant Stone, and I am your Senior Drill Instructor. Welcome to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot at Omaha Island. From here on out the only words that will come out of your mouths are yes, or no sir when asked a question, or aye-aye, sir when given a command. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir," the recruits responded in unison.
"I'm not convinced. You look like a bunch of morons to me. Do you understand?"
The recruits screamed even louder. "Yes, sir."
“When I give the command, you are going to grab your belongings and fall out onto the yellow footprints. You will move quickly and efficiently, and nothing will come out of your mouth. You will put your paperwork on the deck in front of your feet. Do you understand?"
“Yes, sir!”
“MOVE!”
The recruits launched from their seats and scurried off the shuttle.
“Move! Move! Move!" Sergeant Stone screamed.
There were three rows of yellow footprints painted on the asphalt—heels together, toes at 45° angles. The recruits fell into formation as instructed and stood at attention. Several drill instructors marched up and down the company of new recruits, eyeing them like vultures waiting to feast on their carcasses. It was pure chaos. Yelling and screaming. Shock and awe. It didn't take long for the recruits to realize they were not at home anymore. This was going to be their life for the next three months.
One of the kids was still holding onto his paperwork. Oliver Lewis, from Watovak. He was 6 feet tall, had a round face, glasses, short brown hair, and was a little tubby.
Sergeant Stone jumped down his throat without a moment’s hesitation. “I said put your paperwork on the deck. You do know where the deck is, don't you?"
“Yes, sir."
“Are you disobeying a direct order?"
“No, sir."
“Then put your paperwork down in front of your feet, scumbag!”
“Okay,” Oliver stammered. He knew the mistake he had made as soon as the words slipped from his tongue.
23
Stone's nostrils flared. He looked like somebody had pissed in his pancakes. His face was red, and the veins in his neck bulged. Spit flew from his lips as he screamed. “Did you not hear me? The only words out of your mouth when given a command will be aye-aye, sir! Do you understand?”
“Aye-aye, sir!”
Stone's eyes widened. “That was a question. Do you know the difference between a question and a command?"
Oliver hesitated for a moment. "Yes, sir—“
“Are you defective, son?"
“No, sir."
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir."
“I think you’re defective. I think we need to put you in the special platoon. Would you like that?”
“No, sir.”
“Are your parents related?”
“No, sir."
“Then put your paperwork on the deck!”
“Aye-aye, sir.” He bent down and set his paperwork at his feet.
“Pick it up!”
Oliver looked confused.
“I said pick it up!”
“Aye-aye, sir.” Oliver knelt down and picked it up.
“Set it back down!”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
This little exercise repeated a few times before Stone moved on to his next victim. “Private Lewis is a prime example of what happens when cousins marry. Do we have any other inbred rej
ects in this platoon?”
“No, sir,” the recruits screamed.
“All of you look at my red and yellow sign,” Stone yelled, pointing to the wall of the receiving building. “I'll read it for you since most of you are probably too stupid to read.” He marched up and down the formation of recruits. “Uniform code of military justice. Congress shall have the power to make rules for the government and regulation of the terrestrial and space forces. United Federation Constitution, Article 1, Section 8.”
The sign listed five articles.
“Article 15: Nonjudicial punishment. This means that a commanding officer can punish you at his discretion. Step out of line, and I will NJP your ass so hard you'll wish you were dead. Do you understand?"
“Yes, sir."
“Article 31. Compulsory self-incrimination prohibited. This means you’ve got the right to shut your pie hole. Just like in civilian life. Do you understand?"
“Yes, sir.”
"Article 86. Absence without leave. If you decide you don't have what it takes. That you just can't hack it. That you miss Mommy and Daddy. And you leave my base without permission. I will hunt you down. And you will be thrown in jail. Is this understood?"
“Yes, sir.”
“Article 92. Failure to obey orders or regulations. This should be obvious, but since we have some mental defectives in our midst, let me spell it out for you. You must do what you're told to do, when you're told to do it. If you fail to follow orders, you will be punished. Is this clear?"
“Yes, sir.”
"Article 134. General article. If you bring dishonor upon yourself, or the Marine Corps, you will be punished. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We have a zero tolerance policy for drugs. If you are caught with any contraband, or test positive for any illicit substances, you will be punished. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes, sir."
“When I give the command, you will move quickly and efficiently into my contraband room. You will line up in front of the red bins and empty the contents of your pockets. You will put all of your personal belongings in the bins in front of you. From here on out, the Marine Corps will provide you with everything you need—food, clothing, medication, and toiletries. We will also provide you with honor, dignity, and most importantly the ability to kill.” Stone eyed the recruits. “MOVE OUT!”