The Mighty First, Episode 1: Special Edition

by Unknown

  The girls dressed like any typical teenager back home, Minerva supposed. Short-shorts, and blouses. Their furry arms and legs really stood out.

  The chatter and laughter began to circulate again, bringing the noise level up to what one might expect in a room filled with teens. The Attayans appeared far more relaxed than the Terrans did. She wished that she could share in that confidence, hers being so rattled by the drop into atmosphere, and the gory death on the shuttle.

  A rather tall Attayan girl that Minerva remembered having been in the lounge already when her group first walked in got up from where she sat, and came over. Her fur was a gorgeous golden color, and eyes a stunning yellow. The girl was grinning, showing those sharp teeth. They were darkened by the licorice beans that the girl was munching on.

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  “Hi, there.” The girl greeted warmly, plopping down in the empty seat next to her.

  Minerva smiled back, “Hey.”

  “I’m Ecu.”

  “Minerva.”

  Ecu offered her bag of candy. Minerva didn’t really feel like eating right then, but accepted one just to be sociable.

  “Your boyfriend was cute.” Ecu stated matter-of-factly, popping another jelly bean into her mouth.

  “He’s not my boyfriend, just…uh…”

  Ecu’s grin widened, and she nudged her playfully, “Just…uh…”

  Minerva laughed, blushing.

  Ecu was literally bouncing in her seat, “I can’t believe I’m actually here! Wheeeeeeee!”

  She noticed Minerva’s look of surprise, and explained, “I tried to enlist last year, after I graduated, but they weren’t taking anyone under eighteen. My birthday was yesterday, and here I am!”

  “It’s seventeen, now,” Minerva told her.

  “I know, can you believe that rap?”

  Ecu rolled her eyes crazily, and giggled again, her fur fuzzing out like a cat’s would. That brought Minerva to a fit of giggles herself, and the two of them laughed hard together. The Attayan’s energy was catching, and Minerva felt herself cheered up, and ready to get going again. An instant friendship was formed in that moment.

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  A whistle blast reverberated through the room, and again, silence ensued as heads swiveled toward the lounge door. Minerva and Ecu followed the gazes to see a broad-shouldered Attayan marine standing there, clipboard in hand. His uniform seemed ready to rip at the seams over his fur-covered muscles. That fur, in contrast to the usual gold to soft orange that Minerva had been seeing so far, was a dark brown that made the whites of his eyes extremely bright. He wore one of the brimmed campaign hats of a D.I.

  “I am Marine Sergeant Bri! You will not speak to me unless I speak to you first! You will address me with a ‘sir’ before and after anything that comes out of your filthy mouths!”

  Silence.

  He looked down at his clipboard, “After I call your name, you reply with ‘here,’ and count off in order of sequence!”

  He began calling out names, and kids sounded off, counting as they went. It took a little while, as it went all the way to a hundred. There, it hit a snag.

  “I said, Recruit Sasha, number one hundred! Sound off!”

  The room was quiet as people looked about. Minerva gulped, realizing why they were short one person. She cleared her throat, and spoke up.

  “Sir! Recruit Sasha was killed on the way down from orbit, Sir!”

  The sergeant locked in on her with eyes that might have been gun sights.

  “Well,” he said sharply, “the only one in the room with a pair of balls! Sound off, recruit!”

  “Sir, Recruit Minerva Carreno, Sir!”

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  “Show me your file, Carreno!”

  It seemed that the man had to shout every word that came from his mouth, but it did make her move more quickly. She hurried to cross the room, and surrender her file. He flipped it open, and gave her single page a cursory glance, spotting the large red A stamped on it.

  “That explains it,” he muttered.

  “Sir?”

  His eyes bore into her, alight with sudden rage, “Stand at attention before me, recruit! Didn’t I just tell you to keep your sewer shut unless I ask you a question?”

  Minerva felt her guts tighten, and she snapped to a stiff pose she hoped was attention.

  Thankfully, he was done with her already at that point. He looked beyond her, at the rest of the kids in the lounge, “You turds keep quiet, and follow me to the bus bay! As you board, you will surrender your service file to me, and count off again!”

  He spun on a heel, and began walking at a brisk pace. Remembering Mark’s words, Minerva did not hesitate to follow. She was pleased to find Ecu right behind her, ahead of the rest of the ragtag group. They drew stares as they shuffled through the concourse, on their way to the main entrance of the airport. The doors parted for them, and the sergeant pivoted left, following the wide sidewalk past the drop off zone, where a pair of tan colored buses were parked along the curb.

  CAMP MADISON was stenciled on the sides.

  The marine took a stance next to the open doors of the first, stiff, and formal. He somehow kept an eye on his clipboard and the kids at the same time, expression stern.

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  “Recruit Carreno, one!” Minerva announced smartly, hurrying up the steps, and toward the seats in the back.

  “Recruit Ecu, two!”

  And so on, until fifty of them had filled the bus. The driver pulled the door lever, and started the engine while Sergeant Bri moved to the second bus to account for the remaining forty-nine as they boarded.

  The mood was tense again, with no one speaking above a whisper. Minerva saw that Ecu, seated beside her, was content to munch her licorice beans, staring out at the passing traffic. One cat-like ear twitched occasionally. Something that she would learn as time went on was a nervous reaction.

  Minerva gazed out as well, taking in the sights of an alien world that bore little difference from her own. The construct of the buildings, the automobiles whizzing by. She could easily pretend that she was back home, and fool herself. Even the gravity of the planet was the same.

  It was turning out that as mankind explored further and further, his previous limitations overcome, they were discovering that creation was something that reached seemingly to infinity. No longer could Earth, or Attaya, or Storia fool themselves in the beliefs that they were alone in the universe. They had all eventually found the other. Who knew how many more Earth-standard planets there were out there, with yet more humans residing on them? It cemented her faith in the Lord, while at the same time shaking traditional misconceptions. The version of creation in the bible that she had assumed to refer to Earth was clearly misunderstood. Creation went on and on. How many worlds had been seeded with man?

  The buses finally lurched into motion, the driver pulling out into traffic. The lanes led them from the airport, and to a freeway

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  on-ramp. The elevated expressway eventually connected with an interstate, and the duo of buses settled into the center lane as faster vehicles passed on either side.

  Ecu looked at her pink-strapped wristwatch, and sighed, “Well, half-past ten. In about three hours, we’ll be starting Hell Week.”

  Minerva sighed as well, “Three hours? How far is Camp Madison?”

  “A couple hundred octars.”

  Minerva gave her a bewildered look, “Octars?”

  Ecu smiled, “Oh, ‘miles’ for you. A few hundred miles.”

  The bus cruised along at a steady speed, full of subdued chatter. Minerva had noticed from the beginning that the Attayans had a lilted accent that reminded her of something, but was never able to put a name to it until then. They sounded very much like the Irish, some more pronounced than others. Sergeant Bri especially so, his was really thick.

  As they crossed the capital city, New Tonip gradually changed in geography from the tall clusters of high-rises and office centers to sprawling shopping centers with
a gas station on every corner it seemed. Residential areas of varying economic degrees. Car lots. Sections that looked really poor, with boarded-up houses, and graffiti on every flat surface imaginable. Bars, and liquor stores. Attayan citizens in those neighborhoods wore ragged clothing, their fur a filthy mess. Hoodlums hanging out on corners.

  The freeway met an interchange, and the driver took the curve that would lead them over a wide-span bridge. Minerva looked out over a huge river, its banks a forest of over-grown grass broken by patches of sand. Scrub oak dominated the upper portions of either side. The river was evidently pretty deep, considering the

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  sizes of the commercial boats chugging along it.

  The highway narrowed from six lanes to four on the opposite side, and the traffic thinned appreciably as the many of the other cars took the first exit beyond, where there was one last up-scale housing development. Several miles beyond, the roadway narrowed again, reduced to two lanes on either side. The landscape took over at that point. Thick, oak woods dominated either side of the highway. Here and there, a small farm might offer a break to the monotony of green, but nature was clearly in charge. In time, the highway rose in elevation, and the trees changed to white birch and aspen. There were deer grazing in an open meadow.

  Minerva began to doze after a while. Time took on a surreal sensation, coming and going in fits of wakefulness intermingled with a dreamless sleep. There were starts of dreams, but nothing to really keep a foothold on. More like brief images than anything else. The only one that stood out was one of her mom putting dinner on the table. That one brought Minerva out of her nap with an unexpected sob, but that went thankfully unnoticed by anyone else. She dried her eyes, and willed herself to clear her mind.

  Looking out, she saw that the sun was high in the sky, casting few shadows. The buses had left the highway, and they were trundling along a well-maintained gravel road that cut through a wide, open field of summer hay. There was a high chain link fence topped with rolls of razor wire in the near distance, and a brick shack with an iron gate. Minerva nudged Ecu, who had fallen asleep as well.

  “I think we’re here,” she told the Attayan, pointing at the fence.

  Ecu rubbed sleep from her eyes, yawning. Sure enough, a stone-framed sign announced their arrival.

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  CAMP MADISON RECRUIT TRAINING DEPOT

  UNITED EARTH MARINE CORPS/ATTAYAN ELITE FORCES COMMAND

  The marines standing guard duty were clad in green camo fatigues, with large, wicked-looking rifles slung over their shoulders. One of them opened the gate, and waved the buses through with a bored expression. The road led around the outer perimeter of the camp. They slowly passed a large, mown field where other companies dressed in shorts and t-shirts were doing exercises. Another was jogging in tight formation along the side of the road, led by a muscled D.I. Two others were out on a concrete pad, marching, and pivoting in near-perfect unison.

  Where the road arced around, there were recruits scrambling through a complicated-looking obstacle course while D.I. bellowed at them. Further out was a firing range, occupied by a line of trainees getting in some target practice. Minerva wondered about that latter group as the buses passed them. Unlike the other recruits, these kids were wearing green, plated, bulky armored suits.

  The bus on which she rode was in the lead of the two, so it was the first to pull in to a blacktopped parking area in front of an immense brick building with Romanesque marble columns. A sign identified it as the Induction Center. The driver eased to a stop, set the brakes, and pulled on the lever that opened the doors.

  That was when Sergeant Bri seemed to go berserk.

  Sitting up front, just behind the driver, the dark-furred man was instantly on his feet, and roaring at the top of his lungs, eyes wild under the brim of his campaign hat.

  “GET YOUR SORRY ASSES OFF OF MY BUS! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!”

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  The kids couldn’t move quickly enough, doing the best they could to get past his screaming. Bri berated each individual as they passed him, yelling right in their ear about their questionable blood linage, their ugly faces, or the simple fact that they were breathing the same air as he without first asking permission. Minerva and Ecu were the last pair to skirt by him, and Bri screeched promises to motivate them to move faster by unscrewing their heads from the stumps of their necks.

  Getting off of the bus did not provide any escape.

  There other D.I.’s waiting out there, yelling, darting about with clenched fists, giving conflicting demands to the kids to shake them up. Up in their faces, eyes bulging, spittle flying from mouths as curses were issued. The intimidated youths had no idea what to do, or how to do it fast enough.

  “My sweet mother in heaven!” One instructor let out, zeroing in on Minerva the moment her foot touched the asphalt.

  “You’re touching my parking lot with your filthy shoes! Get that shit off of my blacktop!”

  Shocked, and confused, Minerva began to remove her shoes, drawing the ire of another D.I., who zipped from where he had been standing to arrive scant centimeters from her ear.

  “What are you, retarded? What makes you think you can stand around in bare feet, while the rest of us have to where shoes? What makes you so special, Princess?”

  Frantic, one ear practically deafened, she put her shoe back on. That was evidently a mistake.

  “Oh, I don’t count?” The first instructor yelled, hands on his hips, “I had you first, Honeybunch, and I told you to get those filthy recruit feet the hell off of my parking lot!”

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  “And, I said you don’t rate special treatment!” The second screamed. “Keep those ugly things on those pig’s feet of yours!”

  Feeling terror beginning to rise, her eyes began to burn with the threat of tears. Minerva could hardly draw a breath for fright.

  Ironically, it was Bri that saved her.

  “Fall in to formation, recruit! I don’t have all damned day for you to socialize with my fellow drill sergeants!”

  Immensely grateful, Minerva hurried to take a spot at the far end of the lines that were being formed on the lot. She clearly heard Bri say something to the other D.I.’s as she was moving from them.

  “She’s an ‘A’ stamp.”

  There that was again. The ‘A’ stamp on her file. She wondered what that was all about, and if she would ever find out.

  Painted on the asphalt were white footprints, obviously intended for them to place their feet on. Forcing herself to try to calm down, Minerva took note of various things again, having found that was a good method for finding her emotional center.

  There was an arms-length of spacing between herself and the recruits to her left, and in front of her. The sky was clear, save for a few puffy cotton ball clouds far off, over the northern horizon. The hot afternoon was also humid, and smelled of mown grass. There were cicadas buzzing from somewhere. The sounds of cadence, distant rifle pops, and other D.I.’s shouting echoed across the camp, more audible from her right ear while the left was returning from being blasted out.

  It worked. In only a few minutes, she was calm again. Acutely aware of sweat trickling down her spine, tickling, but she was afraid to scratch for fear of drawing attention to herself. The other recruits were panting, breathing hard from the frightful

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  exertion.

  The D.I’s, satisfied for the time being stood grouped together off to the side, deep in some discussion. A decision was made at length, and all but one of them left. That left Sergeant Bri. He approached the group of fifty that Minerva stood at attention with, and took a stance before them. Stiff, with his arms at parade-rest in the small of his back.

  “I will now guide all of you through the induction process! You turds will listen to instructions, keep your sewers shut, and move as if a fire has been lit between your butt cheeks when told to do so!”

  Bri pointed to the first person on the left side of the formation, “You will fal
l into pace behind me wherever I go! The rest of you turds will do the same to the turd in front of you! At least try to keep in step!”

  In single file, they marched into the induction center, stopping and moving in fits through the open doors. They were told to keep to one side, closest to the wall, but by no means were permitted to touch, let alone lean on it. One poor sap who forgot that order was told to ‘drop,’ which meant doing push-ups. That kid managed to pump out a little more than a dozen before his thin arms gave out, and earned a berating from Sergeant Bri.

  Minerva’s new position in line meant that she was among those stuck waiting out on the steps, in the full continence of the sun. The still air was sweltering with humidity, and mosquitoes were doing their best to suck her neck dry. She forced herself to be patient, thinking that at least she wasn’t being yelled at. All she had to do was stand there, and move forward when the line moved.

  A short eternity later, she was standing at the mouth of the doorway, washed by delicious air conditioning being drawn out from the wide hall within. Looking about, she saw that there were

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  adjacent offices on the opposite side of the lobby, and cavernous rooms further down. The nearest point of interest was their first stop, which would have been obvious even without the traditional barber’s pole mounted outside the door.

  In groups of twelve, the kids were motioned in, and told to take an empty chair. An expressionless man or woman would then wrap a slick, blue sheet around them, tighten the neck strap nearly to the point of strangulation, and proceed to literally shave the males bald. Every girl had their hair chopped unceremoniously to the shoulders. The Attayans were spared this humiliation, as shaving them would have been a pointless task.

  When it was Minerva’s turn, she held her breath in silent horror as her hair was butchered. She did not consider herself a vain girl, but she had a certain fondness of her lightly curled locks, and that cute marine corporal had once been bold enough to touch it briefly one time. Gently brushing some of it away from her cheek. The gesture had been done almost absently while they were talking, but it had sent a thrill through her heart nonetheless.