I arrived early at the logistic center, sorting through my twisted thoughts to kill the time. A fit, uniformed guy approached the transparent doors from the inside, and I took the first step towards my new life. It turned out he was only unlocking the doors, and the building wasn't open for the public to another ten minutes, so I stood outside and waited a while longer. My new life hadn't even started yet, and I was already making a fool of myself. I needed to do better, otherwise nothing would be better. No matter what Mister Reid called me I wasn't some dumb kid, I needed to stop acting like one! When the building was actually open, I took the next step to my future much more humbly as I approached the same uniformed man and asked about enlistment.

  "No wonder you're so keen," He said. "If we get you in today, we can have you loaded for basic certification by day's end."

  "Yeah, I heard you guys needed more men, and I wanted to do my part for the UCHS." I lied. "Will boot camp be far away from here?"

  "You running from trouble?" He asked, staring intently at my black eye.

  "No nothing like that. I wanted to know if I'd need to travel far. I don't want to miss my first day."

  "Not too far at all," He said with a cold smile. "Our training camps are just a few kilometers outside the city on some barren farmland. Don't you worry about travel. Once you're in the Corporation, they'll take care of you."

  While he spoke, I thought about how the Corporation had taken care of Mister Reid. I returned his empty smile to be polite.

  "So, where do I sign?" I asked. He pulled a massive booklet from under the counter and placed his right hand on it.

  "We have physical copies of your entry-level contract or," He extended his CIN-chipped left hand, "I can transfer a digital copy to your device."

  I wished I could have taken a digital copy, but I reached up to take the enormous booklet instead.

  "Do you have a place I can read this, or should I take it somewhere else?"

  "We have several reading rooms. Right this way, sir."

  I felt more like a naughty child than a sir as he led me to a reading room that looked a lot more like an interrogation cell, it even had a little camera staring down at me. I settled in and started reading the textbook of a contract, enjoying the novelty of reading an actual physical paper book, playing my fingers over the laminated pages as I did so.

  The contract was simple (overly simple, with lots of pictures in case I was illiterate) to the point of being slightly confusing to read. The first thing that caught my eye was the signing bonus of 15,000 GSaC— more money than I'd seen in my entire life! I was tempted to sign it right away after seeing that, but they wouldn't have given me a textbook of a contract if there wasn't a whole mess of strings attached, so I chewed my way through it one bite at a time. I understood enough to get the gist of it, but I couldn't help but think I was missing something no matter how much I squinted at all the fine print.

  One page that caught my interest detailed the difference between the Colonial Security Force and the UCHS Corporate Regular Protection Detail. It also explained the hierarchy, which could be summarized as the Colonials were at the bottom of the pecking order in all ways, in all things. Since I was born on planet, I had to serve for five years in the Colonials before I could request a transfer to a better branch of the company or a different trade within the Colonials. At least that meant I wouldn't need to worry about my future for the next five or so years, but it also meant I was at least five years away from being able to work for Mallory. That changed when later on I read that distinction of service could be grounds for advance in contract, meaning if I was good enough I could skip a few years. Around when I was nearing the last page, the guy from the front desk came back in to check on me.

  He asked me about any questions and cleared up some of the stupid smart-talk fine print for me. After that, he produced a fancy ink pen and pointed out the places I would need to sign. He tapped at his tablet, took some pictures of the papers and my face, then told me someone would be along shortly before he left. When the door finally opened again, a stocky woman came in and sit opposite me.

  "Name." She barked.

  "Reginald Reid." She raised an eyebrow at me like I'd already made a mistake. "Ma'am?"

  "Not quite. I work for a living. I'm a Sargent with the Regulars."

  "I'm sorry, Sargent." I mumbled.

  "Don't be. You don't know any better yet. So, is there anything you want to ask or tell me before we start? If so, you don't have to be nervous. The interview hasn't begun yet. The enhanced hiring process consists of background checks, psychological screening, fitness, aptitude, personality, drug and ESP testing."

  "ESP?" I asked.

  "Extra sensory phenomena. Meaning that you're psychic or otherwise extra-ordinary in any way, shape or form."

  "I didn't know you could test for that kind of stuff. I'm not… at least I don't think I am."

  "Don't worry, if your not then you'll be the same as everyone else I've tested. Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me before we start? It's not too late to back out and for us to leave your records alone. If we find something that exempts you from service, it'll be on your corporate-citizen's record for the next twenty years and it will affect every other interaction you have with the UCHS."

  "I'm sure, I don't have anything to hide." I stated, sounding more confident than I felt.

  I really didn't have anything to hide, but the way she watched me made me think I might have forgotten that I was actually a master criminal. She had the look of a stern mother about to tell me she'd found the dishes I'd broke before she reddened my arse. Her thick tablet was a poor substitute for a belt, but I imagined she'd have no issue using her stocky limbs and heavy boots to dole out punishment just as easily. She made some notes on her tablet, checked that the room's camera was recording me and started the barrage of tests.

  I think the first one was either the personality or psychological test. The stocky Sargent just asked me a bunch of questions. Most of them seemed normal, but there was maybe one in twenty that was overly random: how many times have I rode a gravity wake between solar systems, what will the following question be, have I ever had sex with a non-human? She had me blushing when she asked me that and then I had to explain to her that my face was red because I was still a virgin. She just made a note of it like everything else and went on asking the next question on the list. When she finished, she had me sign her tablet agreeing that they could look into my not-so-private records, making copies as needed and take readings from my implanted chip. She pulled a device from her pockets and scanned my implant, then commanded I follow her.

  She led me to a sterile white room where a tall man checked my vitals and gave me the most detailed physical of my life. I was tempted to object a dozen times, but I figured every soldier had to go through something like this, so I bit my tongue. The medical man's comments included: malnourished, underweight, type-O immune system, minor congenital abnormalities (musculo-skeletal), hyposensitivity (pain), zero disqualifying allergies, three non-disqualifying allergies (moderate). Once he was done and I was clothed again, he signed off that I was fit enough for the next round of testing.

  I'd thought I was doing okay until I saw the first row of aptitude questions she'd placed in front of me. The written part of the test was beyond brutal, covering everything and then some. Again some questions seemed impossible, but I wasn't dissuaded. My better future depended on this! In the long answer part, there was a question that wanted me to describe what the person in the other room looked like to which I answered, 'there whereing grey.' A portion of the multiple choice didn't even have questions attached to them. Rather than leave them blank, I answered all C, that way I had a chance of being right at least. Half of the questions were things I'd never seen before; letters mixed with numbers in equations and words I couldn't pronounce (let alone comprehend or use in a sentence) were used throughout. If I wasn't being watched, I would have cursed my teachers for doing such a horrible job in my five years of mandate schooling. Though I was tempted time and time again, I refused to give up without trying my best— even if my best was pitifully laughable.

  Once I had finished the written portion with absolute certainty that I'd failed, there was a lightning-quick question and answer portion. The Sargent surprised me with her general knowledge, and when I was certain I'd failed at all her topics, she had me pick one I was familiar with and explain it to her. I stumbled through explaining how to prepare a growing plot for the Stacks then she had me debate her on the merits of different soils, fertilizers and water dispensers. After she'd thoroughly embarrassed me with my lack of general and farming knowledge, I was led to an ample gym space for the physical testing.

  She had me run with and without weight, then came jumping and hurdles and crawling with a loaded backpack, then I had to drag her across the room like she was a pile of dead weight. I had to climb ladders, then ropes and roll and sprint and jog and do the work of an entire squad of soldiers all by myself. When I could barely move she gave me a sizable jug of water and I drank greedily until I puked, which the Sargent noted down with clinical disinterest. Then she asked me about all the things I thought I could do if I had to. I was a pathetic sweaty gasping mess. At the moment, the only thing I thought I could do was lie down and die, but I didn't say that to her.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  When I could speak evenly she had me do it all again, and after I'd finished another full set of grueling exercises, she demanded a third round. I was heaving by the time she made me do sprints, my arms gave out when I was climbing down the ladder, and I could do nothing more than dangle limply for the rope climb. I would have kept going it I could, but I'd obviously hit my limit. Throughout the entire process the Sargent stood nearby, asking politely if I'd like to stop the test and withdraw my application. It was such a kind way to ask if I wanted to quit that I gave it serious consideration. When I felt the words form on my tongue, I thought about crawling back to my parents and resolved against the idea. I would fail, or I would pass, but I wouldn't quit. I would never give up when I could still try.

  When it was over, the Sargent engaged me in debate again. After trouncing me again, she set aside her tablet and said in a flat, even voice. "You are to attempt to kill me."

  "I'm sorry, I think I misheard you."

  "You are to attempt to kill me. Do your best and don't stop short or concern yourself about hurting me. Treat this like it's real."

  She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. I could barely stand, my muscles were trembling like thick leaves on a weak stem. It didn't matter. The Stacks were the only thing awaiting me if I didn't try. I took a breath and threw a leaden punch at her.

  Before I knew what had happened I was on the ground with my arm screaming in agony and so much weight on my back I couldn't draw a breath. I hadn't even realized that I'd had the wind knocked out of me until I failed to mewl in pain. Whatever had happened was too fast for me to react to or even realize it had happened.

  "Break free." The Sargent said, not even winded.

  I squirmed against the pain and weight but I couldn't get away. I tried rolling out of it but I was totally pinned. I started blacking out, then the weight was gone. I rolled upright, sucked in air, and a groan finally left my lips.

  "I've dislocated your shoulder. Fix it." She said.

  "I don't know how!" I protested.

  "Figure it out trooper!" She bellowed.

  A minute of fruitless attempts only yielded pain enough to make me want to puke again. Then she stepped in, and with a twist and pull, my shoulder was back in its socket. I never knew pain could disappear so fast.

  "Do you mangle everyone who gets recruited here or am I just lucky?" I groaned while standing.

  "Just the ones I have expectations of." The Sargent said evenly.

  "So everyone." I griped weakly.

  She didn't answer, just picked up her tablet and made further notes about how pathetic I was.

  Next up I was led to a washroom and given an hour-long break for food and rest. When I was done in the restroom, I returned to the interrogation room as instructed and found a paper bag full of foodstuffs. There was a small packet of dried grub-meat, a packet of fruit juice, a can of hearty soup and a large dark bread roll that was sweet, moist and very chewy. When I was done it felt like I had ate a real meal for the first time in my life. My stomach was heavily loaded, but the rest of me felt great, albeit bone tired and painfully sore just about everywhere. I finally knew the difference between feeling not hungry and being full.

  My break was over and the stocky Sargent came back with a muscled man standing well over six-ten who radiated bloodthirsty menace, doing and saying nothing. For all his malice, I wasn't cowed. I looked at the Sargent for an explanation that clearly wasn't coming. I did my best to gauge who the giant man was or what he was thinking, but I could discern little from him or his well-toned features. I'd thought I was halfway decent at reading faces, but the large man was a mystery to me.

  Before long, he shook his head and said, "You've failed."

  I took his meaning to be I'd failed to read him, not that I had failed the testing overall. But what if I had failed? What if my one ticket out of the Stacks had just slipped from my grip? I shook my head and tried to think of something else, but my thoughts kept going back to that idea regardless of where I wanted to steer them.

  I would think to the future but my thoughts would turn to me working the Stacks in misery like my parents before me. I would think of Mister Reid, and all I envisioned was his disappointment that I couldn't even manage this. When I thought of my parents, all I saw was John's smug face as he looked down on me for the failure that I was. He'd force me to beg for his help to find a job and I've have to do it. What other choice would I have? Who else did I know who would get me work? My thoughts raced round and round, my eyes swimming drunkenly and I nearly lost my balance in the chair.

  Had there been something wrong with my food? I wondered if I had been poisoned and if I would die from whatever they'd done to me. At least then I wouldn't have to see my parents again. I wouldn't have to admit that I couldn't make it on my own. If the alternative was going back to my life, death was the preferable option.

  All of the wrongness within me disappeared in an instant. Vertigo hammered me for a few seconds longer as I fought for inner balance. I noticed the giant man had left the room, and the stocky Sargent was making notes on her tablet.

  "Who was he?" I asked, fighting to get my breathing back under control.

  "A specialist." The stocky Sargent answered noncommittally.

  "Was he a psychic?"

  "Something like that. Now let's continue."

  She started asking me more questions as my head sorted itself out, and before long I figured out that this was definitely the personality test. Much like earlier with her general questions, most of them were normal but not all. These odd questions usually had me asking about double meanings, which she would answer vaguely and I'd make my best guess at. When it was over, I wasn't really sure that I knew who I was. I'd never had to think about it before, certainly not in this level of detail. Did every other fifteen year old know who they were and I'd just missed the memo?

  "The only thing we have left is the background check. Is there anything you think I should know before we proceed? Anything you admit to will be looked on leniently."

  "No, I'm fifteen. I haven't done anything wrong yet."

  "Yet?" She asked accusingly. "You make it sound like you're planning something."

  "I'm not, it's just-"

  "Just what? You can't control yourself? You can't say because you're being coerced!"

  "No!" I protested. "Nothing like that. I just meant I'm too young to have done anything really nasty. But if I'm going to be a soldier…"

  "What about it?" Her tone dangerously neutral.

  "Well… don't soldiers have to kill people?" I asked.

  "Sometimes, does that bother you?"

  "I don't know yet. I don't think it will." For a moment she just stared at me like I was supposed to add something else.

  "I'll give you some advice I got at a young age. Good soldiers follow orders and ignore the rest." She twirled her fingers over the tablet and made some more notes. "You had a good answer. No one really knows what they can do until they've done it, so I suppose you'll have to wait and see. Now, do you have any questions for me?"

  "Can I get another one of those meal bags before I go?" I asked instantly.

  "No. If you'd follow me." Once we were out of the room (and away from the camera inside) she continued. "We have tonnes of them. Company policy is no handouts but since you'll obviously go hungry without, I don't mind misplacing some food nearing its shelf life."

  We stopped outside a generic door, I surrendered my backpack and waited. She was inside for less than a minute, and now I had an entire week's worth of real food slung over my shoulder. Even if I had failed, that alone made the grueling trials worth it. We walked to the front desk and a new man was on shift. The Sargent took my signed contract from me, presenting both it and I to the man behind the desk.

  "I need a rush order on this man's background check." She said. It was the first time anyone had called me a man. A real man instead of a kid or boy or a young man, I stood a little taller upon hearing it. The man behind the desk eyed me like a stained blanket at a pawn shop.

  "You know the rules Sargent, no favorites." The desk jockey stated.

  "We can either rush it today, or he can sit in the backlog for another month and come here asking about his papers every day until them." That earned her a sigh from the man behind the desk.

  "I need to scan your CIN. Your hand, sir." He said eventually. I surrendered it, and after a second, he looked at whatever came up on his tablet. "You didn't say this was one of Her's. She's getting sloppy, just look at these scores… You start bottom up." The Sargent tapped her tablet to his and started working away at her copy of the report.

  "You should have told me you got in fights as a kid." She said quietly while reading. "Low grades from a Stack school, I figured. Clever, at least. Wiry for your size, tougher than average, no couch potato, that's good. Not many friends, that's less good. Homelife was… I see. Lots of cluster-A personality flags, understandable. I'm not seeing anything that would disqualify him, you?"

  "Not a thing Sargent. He meets minimal standards for Colonial Infantry… just barely." Something unspoken passed between them, resulting in a single nod from the man behind the desk. "You can give him the oath. I'll witness it."

  "Listen well to these words because for the next five years, you will be expected to know them by heart. More importantly, you will be expected to carry yourself in accordance with this oath. Are you ready?"

  "Yes Sargent!" Her lips didn't curl, but her eyes smiled for a moment before her face hardened.

  "I—say your full name here—in full knowledge and command of my own faculties, do solemnly swear that I shall serve the interests of the Urban Cultivation for Horticulture Solutions Incorporated in all ways and in all environments where the company holds legal dominion. I shall protect company assets with unlimited liability as per directives issued from the Director of Corporate Security and all lawfully appointed staff above me and shall mandate such expectations upon any staff assigned under me. I shall serve with dignity, honor and valor so long as I am contracted by the company and in my years after service… I'll ask again, are you prepared to take this oath of service and become a colonial security contractor of the Corporation?"

  "Yes Sargent!" I barked.

  "Good, then give your oath."

  I fed them back the oath word for word without any prompting.

  "On behalf of the Company I, Sargent Tobias Murphy Drapper, receive and acknowledge your oath of service and accept you into the ranks of the Colonial Security Force for a term of no less than five planetary years or until you are released from your oath."

  "On behalf of the Company I, Seymour Radford Madock Murphy, witness these proceedings as lawful and proper. I welcome you, Provisional Recruit Reginald Reid, as a new member of the company."

  It was official now, I was a soldier. I waited for the moment to wash over me, to sweep me away with the monumental impact of it. That was how these things were supposed to go. Any second now, I would feel the weight of those words on my shoulders. I would feel like a soldier.

  "Welcome to CSF13 Recruit Reid. Your first order is to return here in…" She tapped at the tablet, "Thirty-nine hours for your initial issue and transit to your training depot. Any questions?"

  "Just come back here to the front desk, Sargent?" I asked.

  "Correct, anything else?" I shook my head. "Speak up! Have some pride! You're a man of the company now, not some child who doesn't know how to use words, aren't you?"

  "No Sargent! I don't have any questions Sargent."

  "You know your next timing. You're free to go now."

  I was still waiting for the severity of my oath to settle upon me as I walked out the doors into the midday sunlight. I was still waiting for things to change.

  I'd be waiting a long time…