Recruit

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “Oh wow! My little brother’s going to be a soldier-boy? That blows my mind.”

  “Well, I’m not 100% sure, but I want to go down and learn more. They might not even take me,” he told her.

  “Not take you? A good, strapping farmboy like you? Of course they’ll take you.”

  “Well, we’ll see. But what about you? If we sell to Mr. Choo, what are you going to do?”

  She hesitated. Ryck knew his twin, and he knew she was wondering what she could and could not tell him. He leaned forward and took her right hand in both of his.

  “If I get into the Legion, I’ll be off-world. We’ll need to keep in contact. I can’t do that if you don’t tell me where you are,” he said.

  “Oh, grub. Well, I’ve got a friend, and he, well, he says he wants to marry me.”

  “A friend?” he asked.

  He knew what kind of men her “friends” were.

  “Oh, don’t get too grubbing sanctimonious on me now. Yes, Barret, my ‘friend,’ asked me over four months ago. He’s been keeping food on our table since then, so he’s your ‘friend,’ too, there, big boy. You’ve seen him. He was the guy who took me home last week when you were trying to fix the power junction.”

  Ryck tried to think back. A fairly new Lexus had skimmed into the yard in a cloud of dust. He had purposely not watched directly, but in his peripheral vision, an older man had gotten out and come around to open the passenger door. Lysa had gotten out of the car, kissed the man on the cheek, then hurried into the home. Ryck had wanted the man off their property, but the guy had just stood there for a minute or so, watching Lysa, before getting back in the Lexus and driving off.

  “That guy? But he’s . . .”

  “Old? Unattractive? Is that what you were going to say?”

  “No, I mean . . .”

  “Can it, Ryck. I know you and I know what you were going to say. But let me say this first. Yeah, he’s older. And yeah, he isn’t the most handsome guy around. But he has a good heart. He treats me like a lady, not like some of those other grubbing bungmen. He treats me with respect. And yeah, I know you saw his car, so yeah, he’s got money. He can give me the life I want. We both watched mom and dad scrabble in the dust of this grubbing farm, we watched it kill them. We watched the dust drive away Myke. I don’t want that. I want a nice life, where I can live comfortably, where my kids, your future nieces and nephews, little brother, can live a normal life. I wouldn’t marry any grubbing asshole just because he has money, but Barret, he’s a good man, and I think I love him.”

  Ryck was taken aback. He had no idea. He generally tried not to think of Lysa’s job. She worked the lunch and dinner shift at the one planetary franchise of The Alibi, the famous coyote bar. She served drinks, did the coyote dance with the other girls on top of the bar every hour, and made more if the customers bought her drinks. Some men even gave her gifts. Frankly, Ryck was afraid of the environment, that she would be forced to do more. He knew that the company had a firm policy against their staff side-lighting as rent-girls, and even if she came home every night after the dinner shift, he still resented what she was doing and didn’t trust the men who frequented the bar. Why would they give her gifts if they didn’t want more? He had his opinion of men as a gender, and he resented all the men whom she encountered through the job. It was a huge 180 for him to try and grasp that the men might not all be the perverted, despicable garbage that he had made them out to be in his mind. But he trusted his twin. If she said this Barret guy was a good man, well, that was that. It was going to take awhile for it to really sink in, but if that was what Lysa wanted, that was what he wanted, too.

  “OK, I believe you. But, I don’t get it. If he asked you four months ago, why are you still here with me?”

  Lysa broke out in laughter before answering, “Oh, little brother, you really are an innocent. How could I leave you here, working the farm alone? You wouldn’t have lasted a month without me. But now, if you really are going to enlist . . .”

  “. . . you are free to go on with your life without having to take care of me,” he finished her sentence for her.

  He got up, walked over to her, and this time, he sat in her lap. He lay his head down on her shoulder while she reached up to pat it.

  “No matter what, we need to keep in touch,” he murmured into her shoulder. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you raise my nieces and nephews without me getting to know them.”

  “And spoil them, I know,” she added.

  “We’re family, you and me. You might be getting married, but we’re still blood. Wh’y?’ Because there’s no . . .”

  “. . . ‘I’ in the Lysander family,” she completed the family motto, one their father had drilled into their heads. It was a philosophy so ingrained in him that he’d even kept the “i’s” out of each of his children’s first names.

  For the first time in months, maybe years, Ryck felt at peace sitting on his sister’s lap. He didn’t know what his future would bring, what their futures would bring, but he was anxious to find out.

  “Oof, little brother. You’re not so little anymore. How about getting your fat butt off of me and pour me another glass of that Recife. No use keeping it around, right?”

  Ryck got up, poured them both another glass.

  “To our futures,” he said in a toast. “Whatever may come, and may it be wonderful, we will always be family.”

  Chapter 2

  The maglev whispered to a stop at Jacob Station. The maglev was an exception to the planet’s infrastructure problems. It still worked perfectly despite the collapse of PCDC.

  Ryck had stayed on the farm for another week, helping Lysa set up the auction of it, then selling the bulk of their personal possessions. They’d raised enough to get out of debt for the repairs and supplies to run the farm after Myke had left and even have a bit left over. They hadn’t sold everything, though. They’d kept some family heirlooms. Lysa had taken some into Barret’s home, and Ryck had rented a small storage locker for his things, paying for a year’s rent out of his share of the sales proceedings.

  Barret had turned out to be a nice, if too-eager-to-please guy. Ryck was surprised to find out that he actually liked the man. He obviously adored Lysa, and that was good enough for Ryck. Ryck and Lysa had made their goodbyes after handing over the deed to the property to Mr. Choo. Ryck had figured Lysa would take him to the station, but it was Barret who had driven him. During the ride, Barret had haltingly explained that he loved Lysa, that he would take care of her, and asked if Ryck would give them his blessing. It felt strange that a forty-year-old man was asking a 19-year-old one for a blessing, but it made Ryck feel appreciation for the man’s heart. They even had an awkward hug at the station as Ryck boarded the maglev.

  The maglev ride had been smooth, and Ryck had fallen asleep during the three hours it took to arrive in Williamson. Jacob Station, as the main station for both of the western maglev lines, was packed with people moving to and fro, all locked into their own thoughts and purposes. Five young men, maybe a little older than Ryck, squatted against a wall, simply watching the people walk by. They seemed out of the flow of humanity, and their languid insolence grated on Ryck’s nerves. He refused to catch any of their eyes as he hurried past to catch a tram to Corporate Center.

  The tram was not as well-kept as the maglev, and it was crammed full. Ryck couldn’t get a seat, and his country boy mindset was wary of the dangers of city life. He swung his backpack around to his front and wrapped his arms around it. He knew better than to take much with him, but other than what he’d put in storage, this was the entirety of his worldly possessions. He was sure that given the chance, someone would slit his pack and slide all his belongings out.

  The tram finally pulled into Corporate Center. The name of the station had stuck despite PCDC pulling off the planet. The Federation had installed an interim governing body when PCDC folded. “Interim” had lasted eight years (so far) as the Federation tried to find a corporate backe
r to take over.

  Ryck went up the escalator and into the sun-lit square. He’d made an appointment with the Legion recruiter for 2:30, and he had plenty of time before that, but he was anxious to get going, so he went into the Federation Building, passing through the security scan and following the directions he’d received at the information desk for the recruiting stations. The Navy Liaison Office was the first one he passed in the corridor. The Navy held the prestige in the Federation. With no official standing army, the Navy formed the bulk of the armed forces of the Federation. They were deeply involved in politics, and the current Federation chairman, like a number of his predecessors, had been Navy admirals. The main office was all glass and metal, with smartly-dressed sailors rushing about their business. There were about five separate offices lining the corridor with the recruitment station at the end. A number of blue chairs were in the small reception area of the office, each one filled with a young man or woman.

  Ryck had considered the Navy, of course. It was a sure way to move up in the world, but the thought of being encased in a ship for his enlistment seemed a little claustrophobic. He realized that most Navy jobs did not entail being in space, but he didn’t want some sort of desk job. He wanted to get out and see some action. He’d considered the almost mythical SEALs, but his research revealed that only 3% of those who volunteered made it through the training, and if he washed out, he would have had no say in where the Navy would stick him next or what job he would have.

  No, the Legion would be a better choice. The Legion was only semi-official, not a true branch of the Federation government. It was still technically sponsored by France, one of the last independent nations of old Earth, but everyone realized the Federation still helped support it. While it could be hired out by planetary governments or corporations for missions, the Federation was not above using it for missions that it could not send the Navy or Marines on due to legal issues.

  Ryck made his way down to the Legion offices. There were four other guys sitting in the line of chairs in the hallway in front of the recruiting office. Ryck reported into the legionnaire sitting at the reception desk and was told to take a seat. Where he waited. And waited. At 3:00, he went back up to the legionnaire.

  “Sorry, but we’re running behind,” the soldier told him. “You’ll just have to take a seat and wait.”

  “I shoulda told ya,” the guy next to him said as Ryck sat back down. “I be waitin’ since lunch time. Somtin’s goin’ on in dere, and we just be coolin’ our heels out here.”

  Ryck had already noted the black trousers and dark blue shirt, the indication that his seat companion was probably a Torritite, but the accent was a dead giveaway.

  “Ryck Lysander,” he told the guy, holding out his hand. “My appointment was at 2:30.”

  “Joshua Hope-of-Life,” the guy replied, taking Ryck’s hand in a surprisingly strong grip.

  “So, you’re joining the Legion?” Ryck asked, a question evident in his voice.

  The Torritites were a fundamentalist religious sect. There weren’t any Torritite communities up near Ryck, but he knew there were several to the south of Williamson. They generally kept to themselves in big combined families, running their farms as communal property. It seemed odd to see a Torty there signing up for the military.

  “Don’ ask. I know what you question. You Gentiles think we Brethren all be peace-lovin’ do-gooders. We do believe in what the Good Book says about lovin’ your neighbor, but that only goes so far. I be named for Joshua, and he was a soldier most ‘standing. He took down Jericho’s walls, after all.”

  Ryck leaned back. He hadn’t wanted to piss the guy off. He’d just been curious.

  “I didn’t mean anything. I just was surprised. I thought you guys kept to yourself and all,” he stammered out.

  Joshua raised his eyes and mouthed something silently before turning back to Ryck. “Take my pardon, Ryck. No offense takin’ or givin’. It’s just here, in Williamson, with every soul lookin’ and gawkin’ at me, like they know me, well, forgive me for assumin’ anything about you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ryck said. “I was just curious. I thought you couldn’t fight or hit people back.”

  “Well, we turn the other cheek, true, but that’s only afore we light the other guy up,” he said with a laugh. “Truly, though, we always have men in the military, especially afta Sygylla. Sometimes in the militia, but some of us, we go Navy, Marines, or Legion. We even got an admiral now with the squids.”

  “No grubbing shit?” Ryck asked. “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to curse like that.”

  “Yeah, no grubbing mother grubber shit,” Joshua said with a laugh. “We be religious and all, but don’t worry none about cursin’. We don’ take the Lord’s name in vain, but everythin’ else be fair game.”

  Ryck realized he liked Joshua. He’d never had contact with a Torty before, and except for his way of speaking and his clothes, he could be anyone else Ryck had ever known. Before too long, even the clothing difference would be gone when they were wearing the Legion kepi and 42’s.

  They sat together, getting to know about each other as they waited for their interview. Their daily lives were really not that much different beyond their family organization. With Ryck, it had been their small five-member family, then eventually just Lysa and him. Joshua, though, lived in an extended family with nine mothers, 12 fathers, and 36 siblings. Ryck couldn’t imagine living like that, but as far as the rest: the farming, the schooling, the sports, the entertainment, the girl-chasing, they were surprisingly the same.

  “Ryck Lysander, what the hell are you doing here, aside from the obvious, I mean,” a voice called out.

  Ryck looked up to see Proctor Miller standing there. Proctor was from the next settlement to the north of his. They attended different schools, but had competed against each other in lineball, b-ball, and they’d even wrestled each other. They couldn’t really be called good friends, but they were at least friendly competitors.

  Ryck jumped up to shake Proctor’s hand.

  “Good to see you! I’m here just enlisting. How about you? You here for the Legion, too?”

  “Legion? No way. I’ve already been accepted into the Marines. I’m just here to get my ticket to report in. The Marine’s are where it’s at, there, Ryck. Not the fancy-ass Legion. Oh, no offense intended,” he added, as two of the others waiting overheard him and started to get up.

  “Really, Ryck. Why do you want to join the Legion? They’re mercenaries,” he asked in a subdued voice.

  “We all be mercenaries, Marines, Navy, or Legion. Only the militias be true home fighters,” Joshua said, standing up beside Ryck.

  “Oh, Proctor, this is Joshua Hope-is- . . . Joshua, what’s your last name again?”

  “Hope-of-Life,” Joshua said, holding out his hand to Proctor.

  “Good to meet you,” Proctor said. “And there’s a lot of truth to what you just said. But the militias and the planetary armies never leave their home planet, never go off-world. I want to see our galaxy. I want to go places. I’m not cut out to be a sailor. That leaves the Legion and the Marines, and at least the Marines don’t get hired out as mercenaries. The Marines fight for a cause.”

  “And you don’ think the Fed uses the Marines for its own purposes? Things not for altruistic causes?” Joshua asked.

  “Of course I know that,” Proctor conceded. “But not as much as the Legion is used by whoever has the bigger bank account.”

  “But I keep hearing about how the Marines have to take second-hand equipment. Even some armies are better armed, and the Legion had all the newest gear,” Ryck said.

  “True, but those armies don’t have the power of the Navy behind them, and when are we ever going to fight the Legion? Besides, any Marine can kick any kepi-wearing froggie if it came to that,” he said, then, “Easy does it, fellow. You’re not even a legionnaire, yet, and I’m just trash-talking,” he said to one of the other waiting guys who had actually stood up up
on overhearing Proctor’s boast. “We love the Legion, and you guys are all superhuman soldiers,” he added.

  “Just not as tough as Marines,” he whispered to Ryck and Joshua as the guy sat back down.

  “Look, I’m going down to get my ticket out of here. Why don’t you two come down with me? It won’t hurt to just get some information, right? Then you can come back down here if you still want to get in line for your kepi,” Proctor said.

  “I don’t know,” Ryck said. “I’ve got an appointment, and what if they call my name while I’m gone?”

  “Hey, what time be your appointment?” Joshua asked the guy who was the one who had started to take offense at Proctor’s earlier words.

  “Eleven,” the guy said, obviously still not completely mollified by Proctor’s apologies.

  “See, they aren’t going to get to you for a long time. Come on down with me,” Proctor said.

  “I . . . well, I think the Legion gives more opportunities. I can appreciate what you’re saying, but . . .” Ryck said before Joshua interrupted.

  “I’ll do it. Lead on.”

  Ryck turned to stare at Joshua.

  “You’re joining the Marines? What about the Legion?” Ryck asked.

  He’d only just met Joshua, but the thought of going to Camerone for recruit training with Joshua sounded a whole lot better than going without anyone he knew.

  “Not to join. But to get information be the smart thing to do. I considered the Marines, but my brother be a legionnaire, so I chose the Legion. Our good friend here,” he said, indicating the guy with the eleven o’clock appointment, “still waits, so we have time. I be tired of sittin’ here, so a walk will let me get off my grubbin’ ass and stretch my legs.”

  “Well, just to get more information?” Ryck asked.

  “Just info,” Proctor assured him.

  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe we can hit the snack bar and get something to eat, too,” Ryck told them.

  Ryck and Joshua followed Proctor further down the hallway while Proctor told them about his orders, about his departure in three days, about how his girlfriend had come with him and they were shacking up in the Holiday Inn until he left. Proctor hadn’t even gotten warmed up when they reached the Marine recruiting station.