Recruit

by James David Victor

  Jack seethed, but he admired the thief’s smarts. He’d got the entire squad to work together, sending some ahead to catch him and using the rest as pace-setters.

  “Keep him here,” Torent said as he jogged by.

  “How long for?” the skinny recruit asked.

  “Until Hacker gets here,” Torent said with a wink.

  “But we’ll get tazed,” the recruit complained.

  Torent just shrugged and jogged on. “It don’t hurt too bad,” he said.

  Jack wriggled again and struggled to get free. “Just let me sit up, for krav sake,” Jack said calmly.

  “You run and I’ll hurt you,” the ugly one said.

  But Jack didn’t have chance to reply. Hacker came jogging around the corner. The three recruits sitting in the dirt looked up at the big sergeant. The tazer fizzed and blasted out a wide beam that slammed into the three of them. Jack felt the blast hit every cell in his body at once. He tasted the energy flowing over the saliva in his mouth. His arms and legs jerked about as if they had been set free from Jack’s body and given life of their own. He felt the pain of them slamming into the ground as they flapped around. And then as the energy gathered in the base of Jack’s skull, he felt consciousness slip away.

  Chapter 8

  The noise of the bunkhouse filtered into Jack’s consciousness. He woke on his bunk, the taste of the tazer still on his tongue. Then the events of the day came back to him. He’d been cheated and beaten by Torent again. Jack’s hand went to his pocket. He touched his watch. The feel of it against his fingers calmed him. Then the sound of Torent laughing with his inner circle of recruits spoiled Jack’s momentary calm and his heart filled with anger once again.

  Jack lifted himself up on his elbow.

  “Don’t strain yourself, Jack.” Bill was sitting up on his bunk. “It takes a while to get over your first tazing.”

  “Did Hacker get you too?” Jack said.

  “I didn’t make it half the way. Missed my first target at the rifle range and got tazed.”

  “Sorry, Bill,” Jack said, lying back on his bunk. “Should have waited around for you and helped out.”

  “Don’t know how you could help, unless you killed Hacker.”

  “Don’t let him hear you say that.” Jack settled into his rough blanket. “Threatening a sergeant is a flogging offence.”

  “There are a few people around here I would like to see flogged.”

  Jack looked over at Bill, who was staring at Torent. It was a hard thing to wish on someone. Flogging was painful and brutal.

  Then the doors at the end of the bunkhouse burst open and Sergeant Hacker walked in. Torent jumped to his feet and shouted at the recruits.

  “Sergeant on deck. Stand by your bunks.”

  Jack struggled to climb out of his bunk. Hacker walked over and pressed Jack back. There was a gentleness behind the big sergeant’s rough hand. Hacker stepped away and turned to Torent. With a brisk wave, he indicated all recruits to bunk down.

  Torent shouted, “Lights out. In your bunks, recruits.”

  The bunkhouse was briefly a buzz of activity as the recruits jumped onto their beds. Torent was the last one standing. Sergeant Hacker walked over to Torent and grabbed him roughly by the collar. Jack watched as Hacker pressed his hard face close to Torent’s. Hacker pressed Torent toward his bunk, pushed him back toward it, and held him there. The sergeant let out a low, guttural growl before letting go and walking out of the bunkhouse. And as the doors swung shut, the lights went out.

  Standing on the parade ground in the cold morning, Jack felt fresh and ready for another chance to beat Torent.

  “Listen up, hayseeds.” Crippin was standing in front of a stack of crates all branded with the Fleet Marine seal. “Today, the Fleet is letting you have a go at being proper Marines. Although you don’t look ready for it. Today, you get to meet your last best friend. Today, you get to carry a Fleet Marine pulse rifle. You will look after this rifle and it will look after you. You will carry this rifle forward to the Chitin scum and the rifle will carry you through. And if anyone is seen mistreating this fine piece of equipment, they will discover that Sergeant Hacker and his tazer is a most gentle treatment. Mistreating this equipment is seen as an act of treason in a time of war. The penalties are severe. Squad Leader, bring your squad forward to receive their rifles.”

  The rifle was cold and light. Jack turned it over in his hands. It was clean and new. Every item of equipment Jack had seen on the entire training moon from Lieutenant Crippin’s buggy to his bunk blanket was tattered and broken. But this rifle, the Fleet Marine Pulse Rifle, was new and in excellent condition.

  Jack had heard so often during his semesters at university that the best of everything was reserved for the military. The university was a rundown, once grand building. The entire population of Eros struggled with an austerity that few could endure with good humor. The store shelves were bare of luxuries. Food was scarce and families planted every patch of ground they could to supplement their rations. The war against the Chitins was consuming the best of everything. And now, here in Jack’s hands, was the evidence. The military had the best of everything and they were starting to give it to him.

  “You hayseeds are going to fight like proper soldiers. Today, you are going to meet and kill Chitin scum. And here is your first.” Crippin pointed behind the assembled recruits. They all turned and looked.

  The first thing Jack saw was the teeth. The long head of the Chitin was extended forward, the round mouth ringed with pointed teeth lunged forward at the assembled recruits. The gasps and cries of horror and surprise rippled around the recruits. Jack felt himself tingle with panic. The writhing tentacle-like limbs thrashed the floor and propelled the creature forward. Jack tripped and fell backwards. He scurried away, staring up at the teeth dripping saliva and slime. The antenna-like structures all around the smooth head twitched and whipped around, feeling and tasting the air.

  “That’s enough, Filth,” Crippin said calmly. She walked through the recruits toward the massive Chitin. She held out her hand toward the creature. The Chitin fell silent.

  “Easy, Filth,” Crippin said and touched the smooth head. She turned to the recruits.

  Sergeant Hacker was dragging recruits to their feet and shoving them back into line.

  “This is Filth. This is the first Chitin scum you have ever seen. If you work hard on your training then the next one you see won’t be the one to kill you. This is a flesh drone built to look and behave like a Chitin, except this one won’t rip your intestines out through your back, not unless I tell it to. Down there--” Crippin pointed to the training ground, its paths and hills. “--is a squad of Chitin scum. You will go down there and kill every last one. Take them down, Sergeant Hacker. Take them down.”

  Sergeant Hacker ran the recruits down into the training course. He kept the squad in a loose formation with Torent running at the front alongside him. Jack jogged along at the back of the formation, but looking down on to the obstacle course, Jack spotted movement in the paths between the many small hills. Dark shapes keeping just out of sight.

  Once down on the plain at the edge of the training ground, the view was confined to only a few meters in front as the hills blocked line of sight. Within the labyrinth of paths were the Chitin flesh drones.

  Sergeant Hacker went through the recruits and pushed them into two groups, one for Torent to lead and one for Hacker. The sergeant stepped up to Jack and looked down at him with a twinkle in his eye. Jack felt like the big, silent sergeant was friendly toward him, which seemed strange after the tazing he’d given him. Hacker grabbed Jack and with a smile, pushed him toward Torent.

  The sounds of rifle fire soon filled the training ground. Jack spotted his first active Chitin flesh drone and opened fire. The rounds ripped away chunks of flesh, but failed to drop it.

  Torent was facing another direction when he opened fire. The sound of the rifle next to Jack’s ear was frightening. Turning to see
what Torent was firing at, he saw a Chitin flesh drone take a hit and scurry off.

  Jack stood next to Torent. “We need to concentrate our fire,” Jack said.

  Torent wiped sweat from his forehead. “No,” he said. “We need to draw them out into the open. Take two of the squad and flank left. Draw them to you and we will take them out.”

  “We shouldn’t split our force, Torent,” Jack whispered, looking out for the Chitins that lurked just out of sight.

  Torent grabbed Jack’s shoulder and shoved him hard. “Don’t refuse my order, Forge,” Torent shouted.

  Jack spotted the sudden movement of a shadow falling over the path ahead. He brought his rifle to his shoulder and aimed at the edge of the hill. “Here they come,” he shouted as the first Chitin came on.

  Jack fired a burst into the first Chitin. The slime spurted out from the holes the pulse rounds tore through the rubbery flesh. The Chitin fell to one side, the tentacles thrashing on the ground, but it kept coming in a lurching, scuttling pace. A second Chitin appeared and scurried over the wounded one.

  “Open fire,” Jack called. He knelt, aimed, and fired another burst into the second Chitin. And then came a third and a fourth.

  Torent stood next to Jack and fired. “Take them down. Open fire.”

  The rush of Chitins overcame the fire laid down by Jack, Torent, and the recruits. They were quickly overrun, disarmed by the flailing tentacles, and carried away by the Chitin drones.

  The recruits were taken away by the Chitin flesh drones and dropped into a pit. A sign was staked out at the edge of the pit that read, ‘Killed by Chitin scum. Welcome to hell.’

  “You should have flanked right when I told you to,” Torent said bitterly.

  “You shouldn’t have shouted out. You brought them all down on us. Now the other squad is going to win the exercise.”

  A hill with the Chitin flag was taken down, signaling that the other squad had beaten the Chitins and won the day.

  “Should have flanked right,” Torent mumbled.

  The squad stood in line. Before them stood Jack and Torent. Lieutenant Crippin paced in front of them.

  “Forge,” she said. “Your squad leader tells me you disobeyed an order.”

  “Sir, it was a bad order, sir.”

  “All orders are bad, hayseed. You follow them all the same. Maybe you think you should be squad leader.”

  “Sir,” Jack shouted, “no, sir.”

  “And why not?” Crippin paced behind the pair.

  “Don’t want to be in the military at all, sir.”

  Crippin stopped behind Jack. She leaned close to his ear. “Yet you are countermanding a squad leader’s orders and suggesting your own strategy. Don’t split the force, did you say?”

  “Sir, yes, sir. I wanted to win the game.”

  “This is not a game, hayseed. You get me?”

  “Sir, no, sir. It is a game. We were fighting drones. These are not real Chitins.”

  “No, they are not. Do you want me to throw you into action against Chitin scum without practice?”

  “Sir, no, sir,” Jack shouted. His brother had been killed by the Chitins and no one had more reason to hate them that Jack. But Jack wanted to study, not fight.

  “And why not?” Crippin resumed her pacing.

  “I don’t want to fight Chitins at all, sir.”

  “Coward, are you?”

  “Sir, no, sir. I don’t think we should be fighting them at all, sir. We came to this system. We colonized Eros and Ares, we took all the moons and then we started pumping H2 out of their home planet’s atmosphere. We attacked them. They are only defending themselves, sir.”

  “Sergeant Hacker,” Crippin shouted. “Take this traitor to the punishment ground.”

  Hacker grabbed Jack by the collar and hauled him off the ground. Jack’s feet barely touched the ground as he was dragged away.

  The punishment ground was a small patch of beaten earth at the rear of the squad bunkhouse. A post was planted in the ground and stood four meters tall. Straps hung from the top with loops at the end. Hacker pushed Jack’s face into the post and pulled the loops over Jack’s hands. The straps were pulled tight and lifted Jack up onto his toes.

  “Recruit Forge is guilty of insurrection.” Crippin stood in front of the assembled recruits. “We are fighting for our lives. We cannot tolerate traitorous comments from any of you. Forge will receive three lashes. From each recruit. Squad, line up.”

  The first lash stung like a hornet and snatched his breath away. The second stung like a swarm. After the third lash, Jack gasped for air before he screamed in pain.

  The beating was fierce and Jack slipped out of consciousness. He was jolted back to life by a mild sting from Hacker’s tazer, a low yield shock designed to revive rather than stun. Finally, Torent himself stepped forward and delivered three of the heaviest lashes. Jack yelled in pain. He felt the straps slacken and heard Crippin call out for Torent to assist Jack.

  Jack fell to the ground. He heard Crippin call out to Hacker as she walked closer. “Sergeant Hacker. Administer the final lashes.”

  Jack fell to the ground and looked up, pleading for mercy, but then he saw Hacker grab Torent and fasten him against the post. A short whip was in Hacker’s hands. He quickly delivered three sharp lashes. Torent yelled out at each one and cried out, asking why.

  “You ask why?” Crippin said to Torent as he crumpled to the ground. “Because you refused to listen to good advice when it was given and brought the whole pack of Chitin scum down on your group with your shouting. That’s why. A good squad leader listens to his squad.”

  Chapter 9

  Jack woke in his bunk, his cuts from the flogging covered in a sticky ointment that stuck to the rough bed sheets. It peeled away with a scratchy, scraping pain as he sat up. It was the start of a day of rest and recuperation for the squad. Hacker had delivered a stack of ration bars. Crippin had delivered the news that they were free for one day.

  Torent stood at the side of Jack’s bed and pushed him back down. A group of Torent’s allies stood around.

  “You are trouble, Forge,” Torent said.

  “Give him another thrashing?” one of Torent’s gang said.

  Torent stared at Jack with murder in his eye. “No,” Torent conceded reluctantly. “Give him a chance to recover. I need my squad fit if we are going to beat those Chitin scum tomorrow.”

  “But he don’t want to kill no Chits,” the ally said. “He’s a coward.”

  “He’s a good shot,” Torent said. “He can help us win.”

  “If he decides to fight.”

  “He will,” Torent said, pushing his fist against Jack’s shoulder and pressing him down to the rough bunk. “He will or I will snap his kraving fingers off.”

  The bunkhouse was rowdy, the recruits inventing games and blowing off steam. Jack carefully pulled his recruit uniform on over his lacerated skin. He left the bunkhouse to wander around the complex.

  Crossing the parade ground, Jack walked toward the hill. He climbed to the summit and looked around the entire camp for the first time. The training ground below was empty and still. The complex of buildings around the bunkhouse included the small buildings that served as Crippin’s residence. And the last building in the complex was covered in antenna and was most likely a communication office.

  Jack spotted one other building set away from the training ground and the small complex. It was not far off. Jack could have made it in a few minutes at full sprint if he had been fit, but in his worn and battered condition, he knew it would be a long yet manageable walk.

  The training moon was barren in every direction. In the hour it took Jack to wander over to the building, the terrain didn’t change at all. It was all rocks and dust, the same dark, barren rock. No life except for the recruits, Crippin and Hacker, and whatever other vermin the transport craft had brought to the small moon.

  The building was rundown like everything else Jack had seen, apart from the
brand-new pulse rifle he’d been fighting with the day before. The walls of the building were the same composite that the military spacecraft were made of but it was pitted and cracked. Jack rubbed his hand over it and its surface flaked off and crumbled away to dust.

  Walking around the perimeter, Jack came across a window, a transparent section of the same composite material. It was also cracked and flaking away to the touch. Inside, Jack saw a series of workbenches. There were dust covers thrown over some hidden piles of what looked like machinery.

  This had been a maintenance shed, or maybe a mechanic training shop once. Now it was a forgotten casualty of a war that had cost mankind everything except their tenuous existence. Jack moved around the building, looking for a way in.

  The door was shut but unlocked. Whoever had mothballed and closed this facility had not expected anyone to come and interfere with it. Jack slid the door open.

  The air inside was musty. It was dark and dusty, shards of light cutting through the dust that swirled about, kicked up by Jack’s boots.

  Throwing aside one of the covers, Jack found a black military drone. He recognized the model from his brother’s virtual reality games. It was a weaponized reconnaissance drone used to scout ahead of the main force. Its hull was cracked and dusty. Similar drones had been used by university campus security and by local police forces, before they had all been requisitioned to assist in the fight against the Chitins.

  Jack walked around the drone to the service hatch. He pressed and clawed at it. He knew this model of drone and it would be a moment of escape from his brutal military training to investigate this machine. The panel popped open.

  The biomech circuitry was putrid. It spewed out over the side of the hull and onto the toes of Jack’s boots. It stank of rotten meat and sour milk.