“My name is Senior Troop Leader Rani sa’Tela. My associates here are Troop Leader Lisa n’Vera and Troop Leader Jeni n’Teri.” Sa’Tela inclined her head towards the two women standing behind her.
Collectively, the three of them were a study in contrasts. Where Sa’Tela was small and dark, N’Vera was tall, pale and bony, with what looked like a permanent frown of disapproval etched on her long face. N’Teri on the other hand, was a petite blond with delicate features, and of the three, looked the friendliest, or at least the most forgiving.
Sa’Tela continued. “We will be your trainers for the next six weeks. From now on, you will address us, and any Instructor that you meet, as ‘ma’am’.’
“Our objective is to train you to become Marines. You have our solemn promise that we will not hold anything back from you to achieve this goal. We will push you to what you think are your limits, and well beyond them. What you will learn here will save your lives and the lives of your teammates--and teamwork, ladies, is what it’s all about. Does anyone have any questions?”
Someone down the line was actually stupid enough to ask something. Sa’Tela marched right up to the woman, stopping just centimeters from her face.
“Button the fek up, hatchie!” she hollered, pecking the recruit in the forehead with the brim of her hat with every word, “I said anyone. And you’re not anyone until you are a Marine and you are not a Marine yet! Just for that everyone will hit the deck and give me 50 push-ups right now!”
The other two DI’s, who had been waiting quietly through all of this, suddenly exploded into action, screaming furiously at everyone to get down on the hot pavement and perform the exercise. Kaly threw herself down before either of the women noticed her, wincing as the oven-hot pavement seared her hands.
The rest of the day went by in a blur of running all over the base with the DI’s hot on everyone’s heels, yelling at the top of their lungs. While Troop Leader n’Vera proved to be just as horrible as Kaly had imagined, N’Teri completely transformed herself into a terrifying duplicate of the other DIs, fiercely barking out orders at the new trainees at every step, and showing them no mercy whatsoever.
The platoon’s first stop was what was called the “reprieve room.” Here, the recruits were told to empty their personal luggage and declare any contraband that they were carrying. This Kaly learned, was everything from candy, to personal realie players, to weapons. When she opened up her issue carry-sack for inspection, she was glad that she had already given up her personal effects back on the Pallas Athena.
For the most part, the items that her fellow recruits declared were fairly innocent, but one woman had actually brought a large fighting knife with her from her motherworld, and another recruit had had some aska root on her. These items were confiscated like everything else that the Corps deemed inappropriate, with a stern warning that from that point forwards, anyone caught in possession of contraband items would face prosecution in a military court and spend their time in the stockade.
With that, the recruits were quick-stepped over to the MedBay and underwent medical exams. After being poked, prodded, scanned and having their inoculation records re-confirmed, it was on to Stores, where everyone turned in their civilian clothing and received their recruit training clothes, personal kits and naturally, new holocopies of the Grey Book. Even Kaly, who had already been through much of this already, had to repeat the procedure, simply for procedure’s sake. The only bright points were that the holoplayer that she received was new this time, and her replacement fatigues actually came closer to fitting her.
As soon as everyone had finished, the platoon was hustled over to the chow hall and given their first Marine meal. Like every other structure on the base, this was a large prefabricated building with only a nod towards any conveniences. Just like the Athena, the dining arrangement was cafeteria-style, with long rows of steel tables for the recruits to eat their common meals at.
Kaly and the others were ordered to line up at the serving area and ‘requisition’ themselves a tray. Once everyone had gotten one, they were allowed to proceed and fill them, but with one caution; everything that went on the tray had to be eaten. Anything, Sa’Tela informed them, that was left over would be considered waste and the offending recruit would face punishment detail.
Kaly wasn’t terribly hungry after all the running around, but she already knew better than to refuse to eat. She was also equally careful not to let herself take more than she could really finish as she filed down the line of servers.
At the end of the line, a Corporal directed her over to a nearby table and told her to wait there with her companions. After the entire platoon had finished assembling, they were ordered to sit. Enggredsdaater took her seat, and then made the innocent mistake of starting in on her meal. That was when she learned the hard way that everything in the Marines was done by command.
“What the fek are you doing?” Sa’Tela screamed, grabbing the woman’s tray and flipping it onto the floor. The big Zommerlaandar looked up at the DI, utterly bewildered.
“You were told to sit! You were not told to eat! Get your big ass down and give me 50. Now!” Sa’Tela commanded. While Enggredsdaater dropped onto the puddle that had once been her meal and began performing the exercise, the DI put her hands on her hips and addressed the platoon.
“Ladies, let’s get something completely clear: no one eats, sleeps or shets unless they are given the order to do so. From this point on everything, and I mean everything, will be done by the numbers and on command! Now, begin eating. You will stop eating on my two minute mark.”
At exactly two metric minutes and zero seconds, Sa’Tela called the time. Kaly and most of the platoon had managed to consume everything on their trays. But, just as Kaly had suspected would happen, a couple of women hadn’t finished. For this infraction, they were ordered to hoist their trays over their heads, and overturn them. Then, with their uneaten food dripping down onto their heads, they were sent off to run ten laps around the huge mess hall with Troop Leader n’Vera barking out abuse as she followed behind them.
Watching this, everyone wondered for the thousandth time if they were going to make it. If something as small as the size of a meal, or failing to finish it, could bring such swift and terrible punishment, none of them were certain they were ready for what lay ahead.
None of them, except Kaly. I’ll make it, she told herself, repeating the vow that she had made on the Athena. I’ll get through this.
***
That night, well after sunset, the new recruits of Training Platoon Carli stumbled like the undead into what would become their home for the next six weeks; a narrow prefab barracks with two long rows of plain metal bunks. There, they were each assigned a ‘battle sister’. This person was to accompany them wherever they went. Like everything else, a stern warning came with the pairing. Anyone found without their battle sister would be forced to carry around a special 77 kilogram dummy that the DI’s referred to as “Big Marji” for a full ten hours following the offense.
In Kaly’s case, her battle sister turned out to be Lena n’Gari, and she praised the Goddess for this small favor. She was already beginning to spot the women who would be the troublemakers and the complainers, and she was glad that the little redhead was to be her partner instead. The two women quickly negotiated occupancy of the top and bottom racks, and then the Troop Leader gave everyone formal permission to ‘board’ their racks and sleep.
Kaly climbed up into her bed, feeling like an old woman. Her body hurt like it never had before. Her skin was sunburned and everything else ached. Even her bones seemed to be in pain.
To add to the misery, her scalp itched fiercely. The first thing that recruits lost right along with their personal identity was their hair. This had been shaved off somewhere between the medical exam and getting their basic training gear issued out. When her hair did grow back, it would only be allowed to grow as long as Marine regulations allowed it to, or be confined to a tight, orderly bun.
And Goddess help any follicle that strays out of formation, Kaly thought with a weak smile.
"It looks like the Goddess granted our wish,” Bel Anny whispered tiredly from the rack across from hers, "We all got to be in the same platoon together. Enggredsdaater and I got partnered, and I see you and N’Gari were put together.”
Kaly just nodded in reply, afraid to speak and alert the DI’s that someone was not sleeping as ordered.
Bel Anny shrugged indifferently at her silence, and then winced as a muscle reminded her that it had been abused far beyond tolerance. She had been one of the ones who had been singled out all day by the Drill Instructors for push-ups and other forms of torture.
"Ouch!" she winced, "Now that hurt! Oh well, this will get easier as we go along." Kaly pulled her blanket over her, desperately hoping that Bel Anny was right.
She had barely fallen asleep when the lights came back on, accompanied by the loud clashing of metal on metal.
“Rise and shine, hatchies!” Senior Troop Leader Sa’Tela hollered, beating a metal mess tray with a large spoon. “Get your asses up and stand-to!”
Kaly stumbled out of her rack with the rest of the hatchies, and ran up to the painted line on the floor, doing her best to stand at attention. Sa’Tela and her fellow DI’s quickly marched down the line. Reaching the end, they stopped.
“If this is what is supposed to pass for standing-to, then I fear for the Corps,” Sa’Tela remarked scornfully. “Obviously, you need some instruction. I am now going to tell you how to stand at proper attention. Follow my words and do exactly as I say.” She walked slowly down the length of the room. “Stand straight, head up, chin in, shoulders back. Relax your knees.”
Everyone tried to follow the DI’s commands, but a few didn’t quite make the grade, including Kaly. “I said relax your knees, hatchie! You lock them up like that and you’ll find yourself passing out on the parade ground! Now, heels together, feet at a forty five degree angle, arms at your sides, elbows in, fingers curled and touching your pant legs. That is the proper way to stand-to.”
The instructors spent the next three minutes drilling the platoon; repositioning limbs, and correcting their head angles until everyone met with their approval.
“All right. That’s more like it,” Sa’Tela finally announced. “Now we can move on to our next item of business. She gestured towards Troop Leader n’Vera, who held up an uncomfortable-looking garment that they all instantly recognized.
“This, hatchies, is the Corps approved brassiere, which was issued to you when you arrived. It is also an item that I have observed that some among you are not wearing today. Hatchies, you will wear it at all times, and especially for all phases of your physical training.. It is also considered part of your uniform at any other time.’
“You may have had the luxury as ‘civilians’,” she went on, frowning with obvious distaste for the term, “to let your tits fly around wherever they wanted to go, but that is not how we do things in the Corps! You will use this approved device and anyone that I find not wearing it will find themselves on punishment detail, right along with your Platoon Leader. Anyone who sustains an injury to said tits because they did not do as they were ordered, will have a one way trip to the stockade medbay for damaging Sisterhood property, which, hatchies, is what your bodies are now considered.”
N’Vera walked down the line, showing the bra to everyone. Kaly wanted to groan, recalling how uncomfortable the thing was to wear for any length of time. But instead, she kept her eyes straight ahead, and her protests to herself. On Persephone, she had worked in the fields with her fellow colonists, and, like most of the other women in the platoon, she had also taken gymnastics as part of her basic education. She knew, as well as they did, that Sa’Tela, and by extension, the Corps, was right. The hideous thing was absolutely essential for the kind of hard PT that the Marines engaged in.
“That is the only warning I will give you about this part of your uniform,” Sa’Tela concluded. “I have one other matter that also needs to be discussed. A number of you hatchies appear to have come from worlds where personal hygiene and proper spacesuit wear have not made acquaintance with one another.’
“Well, ladies, here in the Corps, the proper wearing of Marine Battle Armor, in all its forms, includes the shaving of all body surfaces that might require sensor attachment. For those of you who do not have any clue what this means I will explain it just once.” She held up a razor and showed it around the room.
“Ladies, this tool was also issued to you along with your bra when you arrived. You will use it to shave your bodies, including your legs and under your arms every day. Any Hairy Mary that I find who has not done this, and done it thoroughly, will find themselves on punishment detail right alongside the hatchies who did not wear their bra. I will not have my recruits looking like a bunch of fekking neomen! Is that clear?”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” everyone responded.
“Excellent. You now have two minutes to find your bras and the razors in your kits and get yourselves properly dressed and cleaned up for PT. You then have two more minutes to get this sorry-assed excuse for a barracks ready for inspection. Now, burn it, hatchies!”
With that, the entire platoon exploded into a mass of confusion as the recruits did their best to get dressed and make up their racks in the limited time allotted to them. There were more than a few collisions as everyone moved to get the job done before the DI’s called a halt.
At exactly four minutes, zero seconds, Sa’Tela ordered everyone to form up again. Then she walked the line, finding something wrong with everyone’s rack.
“Unacceptable!” she roared, pulling a bed completely apart and throwing its components onto the floor. “Completely unacceptable! Hatchie, you will remake this rack! And Goddess help you if you don’t do it up the Marine way! I will now show all of you that way and you will all listen because I will only show you once.”
Sa’Tela then proceeded to demonstrate the proper manner of making up the bed, folding the sheets to a crisp perfection. Watching her, Kaly had to admit that the end product that she produced was far superior to anything anyone else in the platoon knew how to make.
The DI was not finished with her lesson yet. She reached into her fatigue pocket next, and produced a Kalian rupa, holding up the coin for everyone to see.
Kaly knew what a rupa was; although the official currency of the Sisterhood was the credit, a few worlds including, and especially Kali, had retained their old-fashioned hard currency out of tradition, and used it for local trade. But she didn’t have the faintest idea how it related to making up a bunk until Sa’Tela tossed the coin into the air and its purpose became horribly clear.
The little alloy disk spun end over end and then landed on the blanket, bouncing off the taught fabric smartly. Before it could descend again, Sa’Tela caught it up in her hand and looked at them. “That should happen with every rack that I inspect,” she said gravely. “Does anyone have any questions?”
Wisely, no one answered her inquiry. “Good. Then we all know how to do it correctly. All right, get to it. You have two minutes”
While everyone bent to their work, Sa’Tela paced the floor like an exotic predator waiting for her chance to strike. Then she called the time and inspected the results.
She subjected each bed to her coin test, and found several that were still below her standard. Yelling more expletives, she tore off their linens and ordered their owners to join them on the floor and perform push-ups until her inspection was done, or she had decided they had had enough punishment.
Finally, it was Kaly’s turn. The DI scrutinized every crease of her rack closely, and then tossed the rupa.
Goddess, please bounce! the young woman thought. The coin descended with an almost painful slowness, and after what seemed like an eternity, it made contact with the blanket. To her infinite relief, it rebounded immediately. A slight nod of approval was all the reward that she received, but that was enough for her.
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br /> Then the DI inspected her Battle Sister’s rack. This also passed muster, and she let herself breathe normally again. Risking a quick glance over at her, she saw that Lena had been just as nervous. And as tempted as they were to smile at one another reassuringly, they remained at rigid attention.
The DI moved onwards to the next pair of racks. When she completed her inspection at last, she allowed the hatchies who had been performing calesthenics to stand up and rejoin the line.
“Most of you managed to do a passable job of imitating the way a real Marine would make up their rack,” she told all of them. “But a few of you did not, and for that you and your fellow recruits will pay. You will now scrub the deck clean, and as you do so, you will keep this one thought in mind; when one member of your team fails, all of you fail with her. This task will be done using your shower towels as follows.”
Sa’Tela took a sample towel from N’Vera and rolled it up into a tight roll. “You will roll your towels like this,” she said. “You will also fill a bucket with hot, soapy water. Then you will soak your towel in your bucket until the towel is saturated. Then you will get down on the deck and clean it by pushing the towel ahead of you like so.”
The Kalian got down on her knees and pushed the towel in front of her, moving forwards while keeping her arms stiff. “Your Battle Sister will follow behind you and dry the deck using the same method with her towel. Now, get to it! I want to see this deck fekking sparkle!”
Kaly and Lena were as shocked by these orders as everyone else. In a day and age when housebots did that kind of work, the idea of actually having to get on one’s hands and knees to scrub a floor clean with a towel was nothing short of prehistoric. Even so, they held their tongues and bent to their work. Kaly took up the lead running her roll along the floor, with Lena following behind. It was dirty, unpleasant work, and Troop Leader n’Vera kept a close eye on all of them.
Sisterhood of Suns: Pallas Athena Page 16
