Despite a formal declaration of hostility, (which was somehow different than a declaration of war) nothing much happened right away. Regardless of what everyone said, I wasn't even sure if we really were at war with anyone. It didn't seem like we were at least. We moved closer to the front and carried a full battle load of food, water and munitions at all times while keeping our rifles in arms reach. Otherwise, the changes were so small they escaped my notice.
Our training company was set up in one of the buried barracks just forward of battalion command on line four— we called it Parsnip lane, on account of all the wild fireweed that grew in the area. We had to share the barracks with a platoon of washouts who needed retraining or were injured and never finished their certification with their own company. Some of them were the malingering sort, but most of them weren't bad guys. In short there were nearly 200 soldiers crammed underground in a carbocrete box and in the infinite wisdom of the UCHS bureaucrats, we were only alloted two showers a week. Now there's a smell than could have gagged a roach.
Sargent Murphy spent more time training us as a company than before. It helped me recognize more faces when we drilled but there were too many names— and worse, most of them were Murphy, Reid or Smith. Nicknames became more important than actual names, which helped a fair share. Instead of calling for Murphy and seeing a dozen heads turn, I could call for Bigs or Hairy or Shorty or Toes. I guess I was plain enough to just get called Regi since I was neither big nor small, hairy or bald, slow or sharp, smelly (more so than the rest of us, which was a high bar) or particularly clean. It was an insulting yet flattering distinction to just be Regi, nothing more and nothing less. At least I didn't get lumped in with all the other Reids.
We trained hard with weapons for weeks, and in what seemed like no time at all, it was our training battalion's turn for outgoing mail and day trips back to the rear lines. I'd lost track of how many weeks it'd been since I'd joined up, and I wanted to share what I'd been doing. I dug out the thick handheld Mister Reid gave me and made my way to the civilian network hub.
Like most buildings in the earthworks, it was a tidy little underground bunker but unlike most it had a canteen that sold snacks and drinks. The soldiers I saw drinking seemed in good spirits and unlike John, they bore their drinks openly without shame, sipping at them cheerily. It was odd seeing someone drinking as if a single bottle was some great thing but then refusing a second when offered. In the entire building, I saw only one man drinking the way John did, alone in a corner with the empties littered around him and a look of terrible purpose upon his face. He raised his sunken eyes and I shied away from his haunted gaze.
Once I'd found a quiet enough place to sit, I connected my device to the network and watched as emails flooded my inbox. Once they finished, I set about clearing out the thousands of chaff and found the digital wheat I was looking for.
[P.Reid#114] / < If you're still breathing, you ought to have a few things you wanna ask by now. If things haven't changed too much, you should be nearly half done your training, but things were pretty rushed in my day so you might only be a quarter done. For what it's worth, I'm proud of you. Good soldiers are always in short supply and you've got the right attitude for the infantry… Which is almost as good as being a marine. Teasing aside, not too much has changed in the city aside from another price hike on just about everything. Since you like your food so much, I thought you'd want to know a loaf of bread up to 72 GSaC now. Take care of yourself Kid. Don't be a hero. >
I opened up a reply but struggled with what to say first. I'd been thinking about it for weeks and too many ideas jostled each other to be the first ones typed.
[Rct.Reid#837] / < Training goes well. We're learning about everything from how to walk silently to spotting snipers and getting away from them. It's mostly theory and it seems like I'll never be able to remember it all, but I'm trying to take as much of it to heart as possible. And all the weapons! I'll never be able to master them all, but at least I can hit targets somewhat reliably with my service rifle. I'm sure everyone in my training company could use some extra practice before I'd say we're battle-ready, myself included. I've heard rumors that the negotiations with the Greens aren't going well. I hope they can hold off long enough for us to finish our training.
You were right about the Loaf! Eating it day-in and day-out does get somewhat tiresome, but at least I never go hungry and when I sleep it's with a full belly. I've decided that I'll treat you with a genuine steak dinner (most of the older lads swear by them, though I've never heard of a beef plant before) to repay you for the handheld when I can. More than once I was sure it'd be broken by some less-than-gentle handling of my gear only to find it without a scratch. I wouldn't be surprised if this little brick could stop a bullet.
If nothing else, my fireteam seems to be the reliable sort. I wouldn't want anyone else but Sid, Browne and Musty watching my back if things go rotten. My platoon has some decent guys in it, but I wish there were more girls. Some of the lads are joking about pairing up as 'buddies.' I hope they're just joking or else I'll need to watch who I sleep around lest rumors start to fly about me. I'll try and get some mail to you more often, but with how hectic our training is, I usually spend my free time preparing or resting. The rest of my news is nothing new to you I'm sure. I'm trying to stay dry, get lots of sleep and take care of myself the best I can manage, changing my socks, drinking water and all that. >
I proofread it more times than I'd care to admit, searching for any other thoughts I could put into words before sending it. My work completed, I spent the rest of my day slacking off indoors before returning to our barracks with my head a little lighter and my back a bit straighter. Most of my company didn't hold themselves to the same high standard, but everyone turned up before dusk… even if some of them were stumbling and overly spacey from their poison of choice. The lot of us had been cut some slack, and so far we'd used it well enough.
The sky was clear and our turn at the showers was still two days away, so I snuck outside after lights out. In some places, the loam was softer than any cot in our bunker and the air was undoubtedly better smelling even without the scent of pumpkins on the breeze. Unlike some of the other city kids in our training company, I could spot wild parsnip and knew better than to let one touch my bare skin.
This far from Primgrofaine, I could see the stars too. It wasn't perfect since the city still put a lot of light in the sky and the smog tended to hang around like low clouds more often than not, but it was one of the best looks I could get of anything offworld. For the first time I my life I could see beyond the damned grey towers of the Stacks, I could see that there was something better out there. Whatever it was, I had to go to it instead of vice versa. It wasn't much, but I'd taken my first few steps towards getting off this rock. Those stars were proof of that.
The still air carried the night sounds of camp, primarily distant grumbling from soldiers on watch; this far in friendly lines it was a trivial task but it still had to be done— or so Sargent Murphy claimed with corporal punishment to back that claim up. That didn't stop any of us from complaining when our turn on watch came and since we were recruits, that was more often than not.
Boots churned the earth and someone copied me, climbing up from the trenches before slipping under the blade-wire to lie in the grass and weeds. I'd have to hide the trail before dawn, otherwise I'd be out on night watch this time tomorrow, but that was a later problem.
"Regi? Is that you?" The stranger hissed at my darkened form.
"You caught me Sid. Care to join?"
"You reek half as bad as our barracks, but it's better than going back into that fart chamber."
"Let your gear air out overnight. It's not much, but it helps. And careful of the fireweed, its everywhere up here." I said while smiling. It wasn't often I could offer him advice.
Sid settled down nearby but not so close that I could see him without raising my head above the flattened grass and budding parsnip flowers. It was the closest thing to privacy either of us could hope for above and between the trenches. Once he settled, I resumed my stargazing.
"Hard to believe I'd rather sleep on nice soft dirt than those slab clots they've got underground." Sid whispered.
"Hard beds make hard men." I said teasingly. "Guess we're still weak. Hey Sid, did you ever see the stars before you joined?"
"Maybe once or twice, but never like this. It's so…"
"I know. Me neither. One day, I want to see them from space."
"After my contract is up, I'm gonna sign on with the company regulars and do this for life." Sid whispered.
"We haven't seen any action yet. We haven't even finished training. How do you know that?" I scoffed.
"I'm not sure. I just do." Sid sounded like he did.
"Must be nice, knowing what you want." I said, more so to myself than to him.
"Don't you?" He asked.
"Maybe… Not really. If these past few months have taught me anything, it's that five years is a long time and I've got a long way to go." Sid shuffled some and I saw him staring at me. "What?"
"You just sounded really old there for a second. I almost forgot you're fifteen, same as me."
"I guess an old soldier rubbed off on me." I said with a shrug.
"Gross." Sid said with a chuckle.
"Not like that you moron. I just meant… I'm not sure if I joined because it's what I wanted to do or if I did it to avoid what I didn't want. I just wanted out and I didn't care where I went. Like going from a hard cot to some soft dirt. You know?"
"Not really, but you sound like you've got it figured out."
"I wish. Say, why'd you join Sid?"
"My folks both fought the bots. I didn't want to let them down by doing nothing with my life. I want to make a difference like they did. So it's five years dirt-side here before I join the Regulars and ship out to where people really need the help. It's not like anything ever happens back in Primgrofaine."
I guess people had all sorts of reasons for joining. It sounded like it meant a lot to him, it gave him a reason to push on. I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. At least this far into our training, all of the ones who couldn't manage were already gone. Everyone left was a fighter, they had a reason to be here and something to prove. Sid had his parents and I had my reason… I just didn't know what it was.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
"My parents didn't want me period." I commented. "They spent my whole life making sure I knew it and the last thing we did was fight. Then I left, and all I know is that I'm never going back. I don't think they'd even notice how long I've been gone. Doubt they'd care even if they did notice."
"Damn, that sucks." Sid said neutrally.
"Yeah." I rolled over, turning my back on Sid.
"Tell you what, when we're done our training, while they figure out where to send us dirt-side, you can meet my family. They'll treat you right once they know we served together. How's that sound?"
"It sounds like you're a pillow-biting cake-eater." I grumbled without any meanness to it.
"Straight as an arrow buddy, so don't get your hopes up that I'll play little spoon. So how about it Regi?"
"Sure, whatever. I guess it's a promise." I grumbled, before changing the topic. "How many stars do you think are up there?"
"At least a hundred." Sid answered deadpanned.
"Well, you're not wrong… There's definitely more than that. More than I could count to if I wanted to. It must be a bit closer to millions or even billions."
"Okay, there's a lot of stars. So what?" Sid asked.
"Think about it. There's all of those stars and all the planets and moons and stations around them, yet here we are. It seems silly that we're learning to do all this so we can fight over a few cities less than a hundred kilometers from each other. I mean, what's the point?"
"Regi, you're thinking too big. Next you'll be asking about the human condition and what makes a man a man. One of my teachers in school told me that only a fool looks for more problems than he already has. But if you insist on thinking big… Think about the next war or the one after that. If we're not ready to fight for what's ours then we'll get pushed out by someone who it. The galaxy is a big place and there's plenty out there a lot nastier than us humans. Think about the fact that the Greens and Greys have been at war for years and years without anyone firing a single shot. This is just one big training exercise."
I hadn't known that. It made me wonder how much there was that I didn't even know enough to start questioning— how much I didn't know that I didn't know.
"Whenever I asked my parents questions, they always told me to stop thinking since I'd end up working with my back instead of my empty brain." I said.
"Dwelling on that kind of stuff never made anyone happy Regi. It's in the past, so just shut up and watch the stars you damned gloomy bastard."
I lounged on my bed of grass and waited for sleep to claim me, but it seemed as if there was always a lump beneath me that kept me awake. Maybe it wasn't the ground but the air instead; whatever it was, I couldn't place it. It could have been a trick of my muddled mind, but the entire camp seemed like it was holding its breath. Once I'd finally started to settle down, Sid asked in a whisper.
"Do you know any constellations?" Sid whispered.
"In summer? I learned about one from an old farmer during my co-op in the Stacks. The southern scythe, down that way somewhere."
I lazily scanned the light-polluted sky near Doidau Cuoi's illuminated skyscrapers, then off to the left a little in what should have been due south. I found the two lines of stars already well in the sky above the city's diffused silhouette.
"Yeah, right there, about four fingers passed the leftmost edge of Green City actual, then up three fingers. You see it?"
"I think so. Is it near that shooting star?" Sid asked.
I scanned the sky again, looking for Sid's shooting star and found it beyond the right side of the distant city. Then I saw the other seventeen motes of light following it up into the sky.
"What the hell's tha-" I started, but my words were lost to the camp's sirens as they blared in alarm. I stared at those shooting stars dumbly as I thought about it.
They were missiles. The Greens had just launched missiles. The only thing they'd want to shoot at would be the earthworks— at us. A vice-like hand grasped my shoulder and Sid roared into my ear.
"GET THE HELL UP REGI!"
I scooped up my sweat-damp clothes and bolted for the piece of loose wire leading back to our barracks. The camp was in full motion and no one spared a glance at Sid and me running full tilt in nothing but our issued underclothes and boots. At any other time, the sight would have given birth to dozens of rumors and crude jokes as we burst into the barracks practically naked and donned our gear.
No one paid us any mind. The flak bursts, roaring missiles and flashes of dull crimson from our barracks door proved far more interesting for most tonight, up until the door was sealed. The air of our barracks changed in an instant.
It still reeked of human odor but almost as palpable was the stench of collective tension. Fireteams huddled nearby with loaded rifles as we waited in our dim, red-lit quarters for the storm to pass or to kill us. There wasn't anything we could do. We couldn't fight back, not against missiles. All we could do was hide underground and cower in the dark.
Sid and I found our fireteam and huddled in close. Musty (his full nickname was Mustache Smith for obvious reasons) was a bigger, older guy. He'd worked in Primgrofaine's sewers for five years before enlisting and if he'd ever had a sense of smell it had long since been burned away. Our fourth was Corporal Browne who was also our squad leader / junior training instructor. He was a wiry colonial a lot like me, except this was his last year of contract and he was looking forward to working the Stacks (though I can't imagine why) when he was done here.
There was nothing to do but wait in the dark. Nervous habits forced their way to the surface to fill the void. Browne was sullenly sat on his cot twirling a knife between his fingers, Musty was playing with his mustache, Sid ran a thumb along the foregrip of his rifle, and I paced.
Ten steps, turn, ten steps back, turn, repeat. I would have preferred a longer path, but our barrack's main length had to be kept clear in case anything happened. In case this whole place came down on our heads and we needed to get out before being buried alive. I tried to shake off the thought, but I couldn't help looking up at the carbocrete above me as I moved. It would happen fast if anything did happen, I needed to be moving when it did. I was a spring coiled tight and ready to fling myself out of here at the first sign of trouble.
"Regi, sit down. You're stressing me out." Musty said.
"It sounds like one of us is going to be stressed regardless because moving keeps me-"
A sound like a thousand metal pellets striking a pillow came from everywhere at once. Some insane giant was scraping steely claws on a paved road just over my head. I could feel the impacts in my chest and temples before it reverberated up my legs. Trickles of dust rained down around us. I closed my eyes and stopped moving.
A stillness came over me, reaching beyond my mind and body into my very being. I wasn't afraid per se (at least not in the way I thought true fear felt) but a part of me knew I could die at any moment and that didn't bother me in the slightest. It was as if the entire world was holding its breath while I loosed a deep sigh and became as clear as still water.
I peered up into the dust. Flakes of the stone were breaking free, revealing hollow pockets and pieces of crushed rock mixed with mismatched, dull grey threads of carbon-fiber lattice. I could see a handful of those hollow pockets, but I didn't see any deep cracks in the carbocrete of our barracks.
I calmly took two steps to Musty's cot and sat down beside him until the world returned to normal. Musty reached an unsteady hand into his gear bag, released a long breath and drew up a canteen. After two deep draughts, he offered it around. Sid refused, but I downed a burning gulp before passing it back.
"What in the Adversary's name is that?" I wheezed.
"Apple moonshine, 110-proof. We used it as a degreaser in the sewers." Musty answered with a shite-eating smile. "It'll put some hair on your chest."
Sid laughed first, a nervous snorting laugh the bled the tension from him as if a valve had been opened. It was infectious, and soon, our entire training company took up the cheers and jeers. We'd faced our first attack from the enemy and lived. It was a hollow victory, but we spent the night smiling while we waited in readiness for what came next. Whatever it was, we could face it together.
Missile strikes and air raids became the new norm as we finished our training. Grey command launched a few back in retaliation to about as much effect as the Greens' own. After the first few attacks, they lost what little fear they inspired as our air cover ripped damn-near everything apart before it was even close to our lines. The scraps that rained down afterwards caused more damage than any single missile did that entire time. Whatever the goal was it wasn't worth the cost, and in a few weeks neither us nor they wasted any more rockets or aircraft. Artillery was given a free fire pass evidently and shells hammered into the front at all hours.
Many a barracks scholar pondered the significance of these events and reached thrice as many theories about the why and the who behind these seemingly pointless attacks. In short order that topic fell out of favor for more engaging debates such as whether the G in GSaC (Galactic Icebreaker Guild Standardized Currency) stood for Guild or Galactic or both or something else entirely. Whatever the official reason was, it never trickled down to us. The only thing we knew in absolute certainty was that the Greens had shot first. After that complete failure of a first strike, the Greens issued more formal declarations that eventually got trickled down to us through Sargent Murphy.
"In 'response' to our unprovoked aggression," Some sneered at the words but Sargent Murphy pointedly ignored it. "The Greens have issued a further statement that they are still willing to meet at the negotiation table and find a peaceful resolution. So long as every man, woman and child of our Corporation—be they lifers, contract workers or the folks living on basic provision, anyone with a Grey CIN chip in their hand!—so long as every one of them begs for forgiveness for the company's bad faith dealings with the Greens. If you accept Greens boots upon your throat and the throats of your families, they will let us talk about peace. So, how about it troops?"
"No Sargent!" We bellowed, one voice and one mind.
It was a tempting offer in the same way losing half my paymails back to the company for one reason or another made me feel corporate patriotism. By week's end, our entire battalion was moved up to the forward edge of the second line trenches, doing our best to avoid getting in the way of the forward gunners as they waited to play their lethal symphony.
We'd barely gotten stopped before a battalion parade was called. Something like 900 of us all formed up first by company and then platoon. It was hard to believe that so many people were all in the same spot, going through the same motions as me at the same time. I'd always know the army was bigger than me, but standing in filed ranks made the concept really sink in. I was a small part of something massive— if that should have filled me with something or made me feel smaller, it didn't.
From where I stood in the left rear, our battalion's Captain could have been any other soldier since he'd elected to wear typical grunt fatigues (this was practically the front lines after all) instead of an officer's formal garb. I'm sure the Captain gave a great speech doing his best to be heard as he hit all the right notes to rile us up for war, but I only caught maybe 1-in-5 words he said. I instead relied more heavily on Sargent Murphy's low paraphrasing to catch the core of what was actually happening.
In short, we were graduating and being abruptly promoted from recruits in training to full privates of the UCHS Colonial Forces. Half of the battalion would be immediately rotated forward to act as a front-line reserve force and be seconded to more veteran units. They would be rotated off the line when their foster units were pulled, and then our other two companies would cycle forward.
When the time was right, our battalion would be fully absorbed into the 27th Regiment (the Lucky Lads) of the 6th Central Division (the PencePinchers). Additionally, individuals who had shown aptitude would be pulled for specialist training as medics, signalers, scout-snipers and the like. It was expected that every batch of recruits would flush out their own ranks with talent, but extra names would be drawn as needed if command couldn't fill the slots with those who had natural aptitude.
Two hours later the parade broke apart and we were finally cut loose. Before Sargent Murphy could escape into the crowd, I put my name in for sniper training specifically and any specialist training generally if there were spots open. The look in his eyes was the only answer I received as he walked away. I wouldn't make the cut. I wasn't good enough and the army wasn't desperate enough to give a no one like me a chance.
Our company wasn't one of the two moving forward and we had no estimate of when we would be, so I stuck to my fireteam who in turn stuck to our platoon. We all just aimlessly milled around while our leadership looked for a place to get us billeted on short notice. It was official. I really was a soldier, trained and certified. It should have filled me with pride or made me feel like a man reborn or… something.
But all I felt was the same nagging emptiness I know every other day of my life.
