Valor's Calling

by Kal Spriggs

  “Fine,” he said, “we'll try it. Tell Salter that I appreciate the good work.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, standing quickly. As I stepped out, I saw him switch the display back over to the maze. He saw me staring at it and jerked his head at me in dismissal before closing the door.

  What was that about? I wondered. Still, I didn't have any more time to think about it, there was plenty more to do before the candidates showed up.

  ***

  Chapter Seventeen: Through The Looking Glass

  “Get on your feet, get moving!” I screamed as loudly as I could. “Move, move, move!”

  Candidates scurried ahead of me, rushing off the bus in a fashion that would have almost been funny... except for the fact that they were all terrified. I didn't have time to think as I shouted, screamed, and pushed at them. Ashiri was next to me in the narrow confines of the bus. I saw Regan at the base of the stairs, shoving candidates on, preventing any kinds of accidents like the one that had nearly trampled me.

  Looking good so far... I squashed the thought and continued moving candidates off the bus.

  Within a few minutes, we had them formed up, more or less, in what someone might generously call a formation. I found myself bellowing in the ear of a young woman as I caught her scratching her face, “Candidate, who told you to move? Did I tell you to move, did I? The only things you're allowed to do are breathe, blink, and respond, do you understand?!”

  “Uh, yeah,” she replied.

  “The proper response is 'Ma'am, yes, ma'am,' and you will respond as such!” I screamed.

  “Uh...”

  I got the wayward cadet candidate doing pushups, then ended up putting them all to doing pushups. A minute later, Salter signaled me and I had them all on their feet. The sudden reprieve and the lack of screaming left them all still and paying attention. Despite my misgivings, I couldn't help but agree with what Commander Bonnadonna had told us. He's right, I realized, we're making them pay attention and learn in the most efficient and direct manner possible.

  “Hello Candidates,” Salter said, her voice relaxed, her expression calm. “I am Senior Cadet Instructor Sara Salter. I'm in charge of your section. Now that Cadet Instructors Armstrong, Karmazin, and Takenata have put you in some semblance of a formation, we'll have a quick chat.” She gave what some of the candidates might mistakenly interpret as a friendly smile. I saw some of them respond. You poor, dumb fools, I thought to myself.

  “You are now part of Sand Dragon Section. If anyone asks your unit, you will respond Sand Dragon Section. You are here for a variety of reasons. My job, and the jobs of the Cadet Instructors you see here plus some more that you'll meet soon enough, is to turn you into cadet candidates. Right now, you're just candidates. We have very little time to do it. Century’s Planetary Militia does not need individuals incapable of following orders… right Candidate Michaels?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he replied.

  “The correct response, is 'Yes, Senior Cadet Instructor Salter,' and if that's the correct answer, then why are you not following orders!?” Even I winced as Salter bellowed the last words into the hapless candidate's ear. “All of you, we're going to practice following orders. Get on your faces, we're going to do pushups...”

  The first day of indoctrination had started. It was going to be a long day, for some more than others.

  ***

  “They all look so young,” I muttered to Ashiri as the candidates stood in line for their medical screenings. We had a bit of a break as they went through. I'd drank two liters of water so far as the day went on, but I'd already started to lose my voice. Apparently, my voice breaking as I screamed at them was still frightening enough, however.

  “Yeah,” she shook her head. “But a couple of them are older than us.”

  I shot her a look. I didn't believe it. I mean, I'd just turned fifteen, but still... I checked on my datapad. Sure enough, our oldest candidate was eighteen. I found myself shaking my head. I picked him out. Candidate Green was a big, dark-skinned young man. He was three years older than me, but he still had an earnest, nervous expression on his face. They all had that same expression, like they would do anything they were asked.

  Had I looked like that, only a year ago?

  We stepped away as the last of the candidates went into their medical screening rooms. “Regan and Dawson have them on the far end, right?” I asked.

  “Yeah, we have four hours,” she replied.

  Since we'd both been up since the previous morning trying to get everything ready, I knew exactly how I intended to spend those four hours. Ashiri seemed to feel the same way. Back at the room, we both shut the door and climbed into our beds, pausing only to pull off our boots. I heard Ashiri start snoring and only a moment later, lulled to sleep by the distant sound of shouting, I fell asleep as well.

  ***

  “Get up, get up, now!” I shouted. Beside me, Regan smashed two metal trash can lids together. It was just after four in the morning. We'd let the candidates get back to their rooms around midnight. Sleepy looking candidates stumbled out of their rooms, fumbling with their uniforms. I paused in front of one candidate who'd managed to pull on both his shorts and shirt on backwards. “What's your name, candidate?”

  “Ma'am,” he stuttered, “Candidate Hall, ma'am.”

  “No you aren't,” I snapped. “Because you are backwards, candidate. Your name is Llah, do you understand?!” I shouted at him. Really, I shouted it at his chest, he stood at least twenty centimeters taller than me, but he still rocked back.

  “Ma'am, yes, ma'am!” he shouted in reply.

  “Get back in your room and fix yourself!” I shouted.

  I heard someone give a nervous giggle and I spun. I found myself glaring at a pair of young women, both of them with trimmed-short hair. One blonde and the other dark-haired. “Candidate Beckman, do you find something funny?”

  Her expression went worried, “Ma'am, no, ma'am.”

  “What about you, Candidate Shade?” I snapped.

  “Ma'am, no, ma'am,” Shade snapped back.

  “We wouldn't want Candidate Llah to think we're laughing at him!” Regan bellowed from down the corridor. “Candidates, get in the front leaning rest. You will now do the pushup, to my cadence. Repeat after me,” he started doing pushups, “We're waiting on you! We're waiting on you!”

  The candidates shouted the cadence back as they did pushups. I honestly felt kind of sick. It felt mean, and petty, and cruel...

  Hall stumbled out of his room, properly dressed and joined them at their pushups. I would be willing to bet he wouldn't make that mistake again. “Candidates, on your feet!” Regan shouted. “We will now commence room inspections!”

  I started at one end and he started on the other. We worked our way down the corridor, flipping rooms. Here and there someone had done somewhat of a good job of putting things in the appropriate places. Green and his roommate were the closest to right... but we still destroyed it, spilling drawers and dumping their clothing in a pile. It wasn't fair, it wasn't nice. It was to impress on them the importance of attention to detail. Everything was going smoothly until we got to Beckman and Shade's room.

  I paused as I saw the neat, perfectly done rack, the boots and uniforms aligned, the shirts folded properly. Everything was perfect... in exactly half of the room. The other half was haphazardly stacked, the bed not made. One of the candidates knew what to do, the other clearly didn't.

  “Candidate Shade,” I said in a calm voice. “Is that your gear properly stowed?”

  “Ma'am, yes, ma'am!” She snapped.

  “Candidate Beckman, your half of the room failed inspection,” I said calmly. I could see her expression tighten. She knew what was coming. “Candidate Shade, because you didn't help your roommate, you also failed the inspection.”

  I turned around and started to destroy their room.

  “Ma'am,” Candidate Beckman blurted, “that's not fair!”

  I froze. Before I could
even begin to come up with a response to that, Regan was there. “Candidate Beckman, who asked your opinion?! Get on your face. Everyone get on your faces!”

  I finished tearing the room apart and stepped out into the hallway. I felt sick to my stomach. I knew it wasn't fair. This wasn't about fair. This was about doing what had to be done.

  That didn't make me feel any better as I did it.

  ***

  “Armstrong, how you doing?” Salter asked me later that day.

  I shrugged, “Okay, I guess.” Oddly, we'd dropped most of the formalities at this point. The Cadet Instructors were a team. Just among ourselves, we didn't have time for ranks and titles, it was about getting the job done. That didn't mean I didn't respect her, it just meant we were both far too tired to go through all the formalities.

  “Look, I know it takes it out of you,” Salter said. “I've been through the same thing. I hated being a petty tyrant to your class, believe it or not.”

  I shot her a surprised look.

  “Don't get me wrong, there were times it could be fun,” Salter admitted, “but this first few days is going to be rough. They don't understand. They're tired, they're afraid, they're just kids...” Salter snorted, “we're just kids for that matter. But we've got to set them up for success...and that means we have to pretend to be monsters to prepare them for real monsters. You know that... you know that better than most.”

  I nodded. It came back to my experience. I'd had to fight for my life for real. How could I do less than my best effort, even if it did tear me up inside to do it?

  “We're meeting to select squad leaders,” Salter said. “Dawson put them on cleaning detail. Do a walk-through on your way down, okay?”

  “Yeah, no problem,” I replied.

  I went downstairs and then walked slowly through the candidate barracks. All of them were so focused that they didn't seem to notice me as I walked slowly, quietly down the corridor. I listened to them talking and working, here and there I heard snippets of them talking, mostly helping one another out... some of them more friendly about it than others. “Flores, you idiot, I swear if you screw up our room inspection tomorrow, I'm going to murder you...”

  The next room, the conversations were even more amusing. “I think Karmazin is the scariest one,” Micheals said softy.

  “No way,” his roommate muttered, “It’s Armstrong. She comes at you out of nowhere, I don’t even see her coming and then she’s screaming in my ear…” I filed that interaction away and kept walking.

  “I can't believe how unfair they are,” Beckman was muttering to Shade. “Especially Armstrong...”

  I paused outside their door and listened. “It's just the way it is,” Shade replied. “Look, they're doing all this for a reason. Go along with it, okay? If you start making trouble, it's going to make things worse.”

  “Worse?” Beckman hissed, “How could this get any worse? This sucks. I wish I hadn't come here.”

  “This is nothing,” Shade replied. “Wait until we get to the Grinder. Look, just follow my lead, okay? Keep your mouth shut. We'll get through this just fine.”

  I flashed back on my interactions with Sashi Drien and I couldn't help but empathize with Candidate Beckman. She was in an unfamiliar situation. She didn't know what was going on... and her roommate was the only support she had. In fact, her situation mirrored mine more than I cared to consider.

  I walked on and arrived at Cadet Lieutenant Webster's room. He'd positioned a few chairs in front of his desk, but there was only so much room. I ended up standing near the doorway. I realized now how I'd been able to overhear the Cadet Instructors talking during my indoctrination. There wasn't room for eight people in the room, not without leaving the door open.

  “Took you long enough, Armstrong,” Webster scowled at me.

  “Sorry, sir,” I replied, “I took a walk through to check on the candidates.”

  “Oh, right, good idea,” he waved a hand. “Any issues?”

  “Green doesn't seem to like his roommate Flores,” I said.

  “Big shocker,” Dawson shook his head. “I wouldn't bet on Flores lasting the week.”

  I didn't argue. It still shocked me how ill-prepared some candidates were. I had hardly been a stellar example, I knew. I'd had no idea what I was getting into, but most candidates really wanted to be here. They really wanted to join the Militia. Maybe they just can't handle the stress...

  “Beckman was complaining again,” I noted.

  “She's going to be trouble,” Salter nodded. “There's one in every class.”

  “Going to be worse with her political connections,” Webster scowled. “I've already received a message from her aunt asking why she hasn't heard anything from her niece since her arrival.”

  “What?” I asked in surprise. The candidates weren't allowed communications outside until the end of the first week, and that was just a form letter where we basically dictated to them what they were allowed to send. Their families were notified by the Academy that communications would be limited. I didn't think it should even be possible for someone to find out who was in charge of their family member and then to message them directly.

  Webster shot me a look, “This doesn't leave the room, understand?”

  “Of course,” I replied. The other Cadet Instructors nodded as well.

  “Commander Scarpitti notified me that Charterer Beckman has been requesting additional civilian oversight over the Militia. She implied that the presence of her niece might be tied to that.”

  “What?” Salter demanded. “You think the Admiral would allow...”

  “I don't know what to think,” Webster snapped back. “We're just cadets. This is echelons so far above us that I don't even want to consider it. But Commander Scarpitti told me to keep an eye on Candidate Beckman and to make sure that she's not given treatment any different from the other candidates... and not given any grounds for a legitimate complaint.”

  The room went so quiet that you could have heard a grain of sand hit the floor.

  “Now,” Webster said, “Who do you recommend for squad leaders?”

  “Green,” Dawson said instantly, “He's a bit older than the others. His maturity is making him a bit of a leader already.”

  “Agreed,” Salter nodded.

  “Who else?” Webster asked, writing down Green's name.

  “Hunt?” Andrews asked. Hunt was from Tiger Company, our other contribution from outside like Kyle Regan from Dust Company. “He's handling the stress well, he's pretty good at following orders.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. Webster noticed and looked at me. “Armstrong?”

  “He's not a good fit for a squad leader in Sand Dragon, sir,” I said. “He doesn't have much initiative.” Hunt rather reminded me of Dawson, actually. He was capable and quick-learning, but he didn’t think outside the box and he didn’t seem to have the initiative to ride herd on his fellow candidates. Not that I disliked Dawson, but he hadn't been a squad leader in Sand Dragon either.

  “Agreed,” Webster nodded. “Who do you recommend?”

  I felt sweat break out on my forehead as everyone stared at me. I almost suggested Beckman, with how she reminded me of myself. I opened my mouth to say that. Instead I heard myself say, “Shade. She's smart, she's picking this all up quickly, and she's looking out for her roommate.”

  “Good point,” Salter nodded.

  Webster nodded. “Fine. We need a third squad leader.”

  “Wallace,” Alexander Karmazin said. “He's a bit stand-offish, but I think if he's put in a position of responsibility then he'll step up.”

  “Sounds good,” Webster said after a moment. I saw him adopt a distracted expression I'd come to recognize, he was receiving a call on his implant. Whatever it was, he scowled. “Okay, apparently Commander Scarpitti needs me to address something. Senior Cadet Instructor Salter, please get me a finalized list of squads. I have to deal with this... you're dismissed.”

  We left. Karmazin and Dawso
n headed straight for the candidates and I heard them start bellowing orders a second later. Kyle Regan paused and yawned, looking at me. “How you holding up?”

  Neither of us had time before now to say more than a couple words to each other. “I'm doing well. How're you doing?”

  “More tired than I've been since... well, since the grinder,” He winced, “I'm really not looking forward to that.”

  “Yeah,” I said. Supposedly we'd have a lot more visibility out there. Regan, Dawson, and I would head out two days early to familiarize ourselves with the way things worked out there and set everything up. But we'd have to be monitoring three separate squads of candidates, plus the locations of individuals across the massive training area.

  “You see that they already have rankings posted?”

  “No, I hadn't,” I said. That had been the furthest thing from my mind. “How are we doing?”

  “Good,” he grinned. “Dust is third, we're second, Ogre is out front.”

  “Ugh,” I groaned.

  “Yeah,” he shook his head. “I think they've got an advantage in that their candidates are all the take-orders types. Dust is too, mind you, but I swear, if someone told an Ogre to jump off a cliff, they'd be halfway to the bottom before they even thought to ask for a parachute.”

  I snorted at that. “Assuming they didn't push someone else over the side first to break their fall...”

  Kyle Regan laughed at that. He had a nice laugh, I noted. “You're not wrong there.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I'd thought the Sand Dragons were all just a bunch of sneaky, devious types, until I got to know you.”

  “Oh?” I couldn't help but return his smile, “What do you think now?”

  “You're a perfect example of a Sand Dragon, Biohazard,” Kyle winked.

  “Spare me my blushes,” I grumbled.

  He waved a hand, “Just messing with you, Armstrong. But I got to say, you guys spend a lot more time thinking about things. In Dust, we'd pick Hunt, Green, and Wallace in the first couple hours. If one of them didn't work out, we'd cycle someone in their place and keep going. You guys like to do things right the first time.”