felt feather-light in
his frame-enhanced arms. All he had to do was center the target in his
targeting display and press the trigger to give the rifle permission to fire.
Once the target was locked in, the actual shot was automatic.
The
target was in his helmet visor's sights and his finger started to close on the
trigger.
The
target disappeared from his view and a picture of Reiko filled his visor.
"Hey,
Cal," she said, smiling. "Is this a bad time?"
***
"Recruit
Piper!" The instructor-sergeant's face was utterly without expression.
"Sir!"
Cal replied, trying to keep his face just as expressionless.
"Well,
recruit. It's obvious you are not cut out for the Infantry Corps. I'm just glad
you made it clear to us nice and early, so we could get rid of you before you
wasted too much of our time, or, God forbid, got someone who was worth it
killed."
"Sir!"
Cal managed to say, blinking hard to keep the tears from welling up in his
eyes.
"You
are dismissed, Recruit! Pack you kit and take the first available transport to
Hamilton Station. Maybe the Auxiliary Corps can figure out what to do with
you."
***
Hamilton
Station was nothing. An empty place in the desert where someone had once tried
to dig for valuable underground minerals. And failed. Now it was a Defense
Force outpost, under the care of the Auxiliary Corps.
"What
we do," the Auxiliary Corps sergeant told him when he'd arrived, "is
fill in the blanks."
Cal
had said nothing, just stood at attention in the baking heat and wondered how
life could possibly get worse than this.
The
sergeant was a tall, lanky man, with much the same coloring as Cal's; darkly
tanned skin and dark-blond hair. The sergeant's eyes, though, were blue rather
than dark, and his features looked pure Northern-European, rather than Cal's
stereotypically Arcadian multi-component ethnic mix. The sergeant's expression
was relaxed. His hair was longer than Cal was used to anymore. He wore a dusty
working uniform. In fact, the only thing military-looking about the man was the
faded sergeant's stripes on the sleeve of his overalls and the compact light
combat rifle slung from his shoulder.
"Look,
we don't need that stand-at-attention stuff here," the sergeant said.
"So long as you know who's in charge, you can skip all the
stand-at-attention-yes-sir crap and the saluting. Just do what I say, when I
say it and all that military formality shit don't matter."
"Yes,
Sergeant!" said Cal, and the man frowned.
"You
probably think you've wound up in the crapper out here, huh? Piper? What do
want to be called, anyway? Private Piper sounds pretty dorky," the
sergeant said, smiling.
"Ah...
my... that is, people call me 'Cal,' I guess," Cal said.
"You
guess? You're not sure what people call you?"
"Well,"
Cal said, figuring that there wasn't much more trouble he could get into,
"lately people have mostly been calling me 'fuck-up.' But I guess I'd
prefer 'Cal.'"
The
sergeant grinned. "Right. Like I was saying, Cal, what we do is fill in
the blanks. I'm Dave Halgren, by the way, but we go by first names, here,
mostly. So just 'Dave.' I'm the platoon sergeant here. Though you'd have to
squint pretty hard to call this a platoon. Anyway, I'm in charge here, more or
less... unless an officer stops by, which they mostly don't."
"OK,"
Cal said, trying to see where this was going.
"Right,"
Sergeant Dave said. "Fill in the blanks. What I mean is, we do whatever
job comes up, so the rest of the Defense Force never has to take the trouble to
pull their heads out of their own asses. Look, Arcadia is pretty dispersed,
right? Stations, towns and settlements all over the place. And mostly, people
just want to be left alone, right? I mean, we all agree to do our time in the
Defense Force, but that's just so we can make sure we are left alone.
"But
sometimes people need help. Most of the time, it's Defense Force people that
need help. Like getting a spare fuel cell out to a stalled
his frame-enhanced arms. All he had to do was center the target in his
targeting display and press the trigger to give the rifle permission to fire.
Once the target was locked in, the actual shot was automatic.
The
target was in his helmet visor's sights and his finger started to close on the
trigger.
The
target disappeared from his view and a picture of Reiko filled his visor.
"Hey,
Cal," she said, smiling. "Is this a bad time?"
***
"Recruit
Piper!" The instructor-sergeant's face was utterly without expression.
"Sir!"
Cal replied, trying to keep his face just as expressionless.
"Well,
recruit. It's obvious you are not cut out for the Infantry Corps. I'm just glad
you made it clear to us nice and early, so we could get rid of you before you
wasted too much of our time, or, God forbid, got someone who was worth it
killed."
"Sir!"
Cal managed to say, blinking hard to keep the tears from welling up in his
eyes.
"You
are dismissed, Recruit! Pack you kit and take the first available transport to
Hamilton Station. Maybe the Auxiliary Corps can figure out what to do with
you."
***
Hamilton
Station was nothing. An empty place in the desert where someone had once tried
to dig for valuable underground minerals. And failed. Now it was a Defense
Force outpost, under the care of the Auxiliary Corps.
"What
we do," the Auxiliary Corps sergeant told him when he'd arrived, "is
fill in the blanks."
Cal
had said nothing, just stood at attention in the baking heat and wondered how
life could possibly get worse than this.
The
sergeant was a tall, lanky man, with much the same coloring as Cal's; darkly
tanned skin and dark-blond hair. The sergeant's eyes, though, were blue rather
than dark, and his features looked pure Northern-European, rather than Cal's
stereotypically Arcadian multi-component ethnic mix. The sergeant's expression
was relaxed. His hair was longer than Cal was used to anymore. He wore a dusty
working uniform. In fact, the only thing military-looking about the man was the
faded sergeant's stripes on the sleeve of his overalls and the compact light
combat rifle slung from his shoulder.
"Look,
we don't need that stand-at-attention stuff here," the sergeant said.
"So long as you know who's in charge, you can skip all the
stand-at-attention-yes-sir crap and the saluting. Just do what I say, when I
say it and all that military formality shit don't matter."
"Yes,
Sergeant!" said Cal, and the man frowned.
"You
probably think you've wound up in the crapper out here, huh? Piper? What do
want to be called, anyway? Private Piper sounds pretty dorky," the
sergeant said, smiling.
"Ah...
my... that is, people call me 'Cal,' I guess," Cal said.
"You
guess? You're not sure what people call you?"
"Well,"
Cal said, figuring that there wasn't much more trouble he could get into,
"lately people have mostly been calling me 'fuck-up.' But I guess I'd
prefer 'Cal.'"
The
sergeant grinned. "Right. Like I was saying, Cal, what we do is fill in
the blanks. I'm Dave Halgren, by the way, but we go by first names, here,
mostly. So just 'Dave.' I'm the platoon sergeant here. Though you'd have to
squint pretty hard to call this a platoon. Anyway, I'm in charge here, more or
less... unless an officer stops by, which they mostly don't."
"OK,"
Cal said, trying to see where this was going.
"Right,"
Sergeant Dave said. "Fill in the blanks. What I mean is, we do whatever
job comes up, so the rest of the Defense Force never has to take the trouble to
pull their heads out of their own asses. Look, Arcadia is pretty dispersed,
right? Stations, towns and settlements all over the place. And mostly, people
just want to be left alone, right? I mean, we all agree to do our time in the
Defense Force, but that's just so we can make sure we are left alone.
"But
sometimes people need help. Most of the time, it's Defense Force people that
need help. Like getting a spare fuel cell out to a stalled
Similar Books
