With a sigh I plowed back onto the bus.
"I thought there was no homelessness in the UC?" I asked Ace when we were underway.
"What?" Ace screwed up his face. "Where'd you get that idea?"
"People don't have to work. Food is provided. Rooms."
"Oh. Yeah sure, all that's provided. But some people fall out of the system for whatever reason. Immigrants, usually. Illegals."
"Like me," I said.
"Oh, you don't have to worry anymore," Ace said. "The Navy takes care of its own. They're not going to let you fall through the cracks."
Why didn't I feel all that reassured?
The roads were packed with other vehicles, but they were all going the same speed as the bus, and traveling the same distance apart. When we stopped at a traffic light, I noticed that the drivers didn't even have their hands on the steering wheels.
The day went by in a blur. What I remember most was the level of automation in the city. It was mind-blowing. Robots were everywhere, ticketing the cars, driving the cars, repairing the cars, towing the cars. Robots acted as doormen, hostesses, shopkeepers. The robot errand-runners were ubiquitous in their civilian clothes and reusable canvas bags. Ace explained that in addition to food vouchers, the government guaranteed one robot per family. Public transportation was also free. If you wanted your own vehicle however, that was something you had to work for. Judging from the busy traffic on the streets, there were a lot of people still working. Either that, or a lot of retirees.
After the game, Shaw went off with her fiancé (good-riddance), and the rest of us joined up with some other graduates and spent Saturday night at a Navy-friendly bar, drinking bottled water and flirting with anything that had tits. A fight almost started when some ex-Marines came in, and we had to venue change to another bar, but otherwise the night went well. Most of us spent a good portion of our first month's pay renting hotels in town for the night, and the partying continued into the wee hours.
Back at our hotel, Ace got a civilian to buy us some beer (we were worried our expenses would be tracked), and then most of us got
plenty drunk in the room. I was one of the worst offenders. So much for not having alcohol while on liberty. I just hoped the embedded Ids couldn't log blood alcohol levels.
Shaw showed up sometime after midnight. There was no sign of her fiancé. I didn't say anything.
0200 found me alone by the fake fireplace, staring at the digital flames. Most everyone else was either asleep on the floor around me, or banging the girls they'd picked up, putting the three-bedroom suite to good use. There was a small group in the kitchen playing some party game—I heard Ace and Alejandro laughing away.
Shaw came out from the kitchen and sat down beside me.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey." I didn't look at her.
"Having a good time?"
"Sure." I pretended to take a long sip of my beer. Truth is, I'd emptied the bottle a few hours ago. It was kind of a reflex though. Thinking about Shaw, and what she did to me, well, it just made me want to drink.
"Where's the fiancé?" I said, wishing I wasn't so sober.
"Rade, I—"
"It's okay. I understand. I really do. It makes sense actually. Why you've been avoiding me these past few weeks. Brushing me off."
"Rade—"
"No, you don't have to say anything. We're going our separate ways. Today and tomorrow are the last time we'll ever see each other. It's better this way. I only wish you'd told me about him a bit sooner. Might've saved me some heartache." I instinctively tried drinking from the bottle again. Still empty. "You know, what hurts the most is, we could've had something. We really could've. Maybe we'll meet again in another life, you never know. But anyway, you should really go back to your man. I don't know why you're here."
"I'm here because of you," she said.
"Really." I deadpanned. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don't mess with engaged women. Go back to your fiancé."
"Rade. I broke up with him today."
"You...
what
?"
She was staring directly into my eyes. "I broke up with him."
"I... don't know what to say to that." My hands seemed suddenly clammy, and I felt a drop of sweat trickle down my ribs.
"The whole Navy thing didn't work for us.
These past eight weeks were torture for him. You see, him and celibacy, well, let's just say the two of them didn't go well together. He told me, to my face, that he'd slept with three women while I was gone. This after I bought him dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town. So I cut him loose. I had to. Eight weeks... can you imagine what he would have done when I was gone for two
years
at a time, out on deployment? I don't know how I could have been so blind. He duped me, Rade. Duped me to the core."
"Like you duped me?"
"I'm sorry, Rade." She leaned closer. Her gaze lingered on my lips. "Let me make it up to you."
Our faces were so close now. "You know what? Hell with it. All is forgiven."
I hoisted her up, led her to the bathroom and locked the door.
* * *
Our group got back to base on Sunday night, and I took my leave of Shaw at the train station. She was moving on to her rating school, while I would stay behind with Tahoe, Alejandro and Ace. We promised to keep in touch.
"Good luck Astronaut Apprentice," she said, and leaned forward to kiss my cheek. I turned my head at the last minute to meet her lips with my own.
She pulled away. "You're a sly one."
"I am."
She held my hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Remember me in the deepest, darkest hours. When you think you can't go on. When the training is too much. Hold on to the moments we've shared. Hold on to last night."
"I will." My voice was thick with grief. It felt like I'd only just found her, and now I was losing her. "Maybe we can meet again sometime, when we graduate. Arrange some liberty time together."
She beamed. "I'd like that."
When she let go of me and turned to walk away, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd never see her again. Once she finished training and made it to her posting she'd probably shack up with someone else. She was far too beautiful to stay single for long. Probably be an officers wife when we met again.
"Maybe next time we meet you'll be my boss," I called to her back.
She glanced over her shoulder. "You wish. Besides, it won't be so long."
If you say so, Shaw.
I watched her board the vactrain. I waited there, as new recruits emerged from the open doors, recruits both starry-eyed and frightened at the same time, like I had been. I almost wanted to change places with them. To live those eight weeks over again, despite how tedious Basic had been. If only to be with her.
But it was time to move on.
I turned away as the train's last call came, and I didn't look back.
After eight more weeks of intense PT under the tutelage of civilian coaches hired by the Navy, Alejandro, Tahoe, Ace and I were shipped off to the spec-ops rating school at New Coronado, California, where we would begin MOTH Orientation.
Monday morning found me seated cross-legged on the concrete deck beside the combat training tank (pool). I was dressed in swim trunk
s and a white T-shirt. Beside me were the other students of Class 1108.
I heard footsteps echo off the black concrete. I glanced at the digital clock embedded in the cinder-block wall. 0500 on the dot.
Our class leader, Lieutenant Jaeger "Jaguar" Robinson, climbed to his feet. He was the senior officer among us, a Space Warfare Officer with four years experience. We were all equals here—officers trained right alongside enlisted men.
"Feet!" Jaguar yelled.
"
Feet!
" Nearly two hundred voices shouted in unison as the class members clambered upright.
"In-struc-tor Ree-ed!" Jaguar said.
"
Wooyah, Instructor Reed!
" we proudly roared. Sounded like a vactrain in here.
A well-built man ambled into my field of view. His head was completely shaved. I would have pegged him at mid-forties. He was dressed the way I'd soon learn all enlisted instructors dressed: blue T-shirt, khakis, white socks, black military boots. He wore a pair of wraparound sunglasses
—possibly an aReal. His face was almost kindly, but by the way Instructor Reed carried himself, like a tightly-wound coil ready to spring into action and pounce at the slightest provocation, I knew he was a warrior.
He glanced at the tank behind him and nodded to himself, apparently satisfied that everything was in good order. Then he turned around, and tilted his head, seeming to look at some spot just beyond and above us. He didn't say a word.
Time dragged out. I and everyone else remained at attention, stiff, unmoving.
Waiting was always the worst part of any fight. And I was certain this was about to be one of the biggest fights of my life.
"Drop," Instructor Reed said quietly.
"
Drop!
" the class responded, and we dropped, every one of us assuming the starting position for a pushup, also known as the "plank."
I and everyone else held that position, because we hadn't been given permission to get up again, or to do actual pushups.
The seconds passed. Twenty. Thirty.
My arms were beginning to shake from supporting my body weight.
One minute.
One minute thirty seconds.
Two minutes.
"Push 'em," the instructor said.
"Push 'em!" Jaguar echoed.
"
Wooyah!
" the class said, finally doing the first pushup.
"One!" Jaguar said.
"
One!
" the class responded enthusiastically.
"Two!"
"
Two!
"
After counting out twenty pushups we returned to the
"plank" starting position, and waited once again. My arms were just in agony, and shaking worse than ever.
There was no command to recover. No command to continue pushups. Nothing. We just held that starting position.
I risked a glance up.
Instructor Reed hadn't moved. He merely stood there, gazing blankly across the ranks from behind those sunglasses.
"Again," he said, finally.
We did another twenty.
"Again," Instructor Reed said.
Twenty more.
"Again."
"Again."
We were up to one hundred pushups in total now. As I held that plank position, sweat dripped down my pecs to pool at the center of my shirt. More perspiration oozed down my forehead, along my cheeks, and dripped from my nose. Along with mucus.
"Again," Instructor Reed said.
Twenty more.
"Again."
I pushed my butt higher into the air, trying to take the pressure off my burning arms. Others around me were doing the same.
"Again."
Men started dropping around me. They just couldn't take it. I was about to collapse myself. My arms were just jackhammering.
"Recover."
At first I thought I'd imagined the word, because Instructor Reed said it so quietly.
"Feet!" Jaguar said.
"
Feet
!" the class responded. Not a roar anymore. More like a bunch of choked chickens.
I staggered to my feet. Around me, other students fell flat on their faces, their arms too weak even to get up. They managed to stand at attention with help from other students. Alejandro and I had to help Ace up.
"Report, Mr. Robinson," Instructor Reed said.
"Class eleven-oh-eight is formed, sir," Jaguar said. "One hundred eighty-two men assigned, one hundred eighty present. One man on watch, one man at medical. Sick call."
Instructor Reed nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant." He turned to the rest of us. "Seats."
"
Seats!
" We hit the concrete, and sat cross-legged.
"He is best who is trained in the severest school," Instructor Reed intoned. "Who said that?"
"You did, sir!" a trainee near the front answered.
"Drop and push 'em for being an idiot," Instructor Reed said.
The student immediately complied.
"Anyone else?"
I knew the answer. During downtime I'd read
History of the Peloponnesian War
, which was on the recommended reading list, but I didn't say anything, not wanting to draw attention to myself.
"Thucydides, sir!" It was Ace who answered, seated two students down from me.
"Excellent." He glanced at Ace. "Drop and push 'em for being too smart."
Ace's face fell, and he obeyed.
"Thucydides also said, the strength of an Army lies in strict discipline and undeviating obedience to its officers." Instructor Reed looked us up and down. "We are here to teach you both these things."
He toured the room, pa
ssing between our ranks. He paused beside one man. "Why did you enlist?"
"I enlisted to kill me some SKs!" the trainee said. Sino-Koreans. "Sir!"
"Not good enough. Drop and push 'em."
"Wooyah sir!" The student started his push-ups.
The instructor halted beside another man. "You. Why did you enlist?"
"I want to kick some ass in an ATLAS mech, sir!"
"Not good enough. Drop and push 'em."
He went to another student. "I've seen your face here before. What are you doing? Can't you see when something just isn't for you? Can't you look defeat in the face and realize you're a failure?"
"I'm going to make it this time, sir!"
"If you say so. Drop and push 'em."
The student obeyed.
Instructor Reed reached me. I stared straight ahead, at his knees, not daring to meet his eye, hoping he wouldn't say anything to me. I didn't want to stand out. I didn't want extra instructor attention.
"What's your reason, trainee?" Instructor Reed asked me.
I knew he'd mock me no matter what I said, but I decided to give him the most honest answer I could think of. "I want to be a man, sir!"
"You want to be a
man
?" I thought there was a touch of cynicism in his voice.
"Yes sir! I want to see what I'm made of! A chance to be a part of something bigger than myself!"
"Well, that's the best reason I've heard today. But only half right. Drop and push 'em."
So much for not standing out and drawing extra instructor attention.
Instructor Reed returned to the front of the class while I was doing my pushups. "Did everyone hear what that trainee said? He wants to be a man. I find that interesting, do you know why? It's because we're not here to make you into men. Sure, at the end of Trial Week we'll know the difference between the men and the boys, but at that point, we haven't really done anything other than selective culling. After Trial Week, however, that's when the real forging begins. If you make it that far, you'll become something far more than any ordinary man. You'll become a MOTH."
"
Wooyah!
"
"Most of you are immigrants. Patriotism is a big part of what we do here. If you can't fight for your nation, die for it, then you don't belong here, do you understand me?"
"
Wooyah sir!
"
"Well, trainee?" Instructor Reed was addressing someone I couldn't see from where I did pushups on the deck. "Can you fight for your nation, die for it?"
"Yes, sir!" I heard Alejandro answer.
"Elaborate."
"The UC is my nation now," Alejandro said. "I'll fight for it. I have to."
"You don't sound too convinced. Drop and push 'em."
Alejandro joined me on the deck.
"You have to really love this country to do what MOTHs do. And you have to really love your teammates. Patriotism to your country is the furnace, and dedication to your team the hammer, that will forge your warrior spirit. Remember that."
"
Wooyah!
"
Instructor Reed paused, then said, "Recover."
Those of us who were doing pushups resumed a cross-legged seated position. I was relieved: My arms were just on fire.
Instructor Reed ran his gaze over us. "Some of you know me. Most of you don't. I'm Instructor Reed, and I'll be your Proctor while you're in training. Your go-to man. The interface between the other instructors and yourselves. If there's something you need, anything, come to me, and I'll make sure you don't get it." He grinned widely. I knew he was joking, but I didn't dare laugh. None of us did. "Obviously, if you come to me and ask for something that's in my power to grant, it's yours. A chit for some gear, medicine, or just a kick in the pants, come see me and I'll set you straight. Speaking of gear, you are to never, I repeat
never
steal from your fellow teammates. Your reputation starts right here, and if you become known as a
buddy screwer
, you're not going to get very far at all. None of the Teams want someone like that in their ranks. Would you? You learned about honor, courage and commitment in Basic. Well it's time to start applying those traits."
Instructor Reed slowly paced back and forth at the front of the class. "So. You all have your own reasons for being here. Most of them are wrong, of course. From a quick glance, I can see we have some gym buffs, a handful of former Olympians, and even a few skinny nerds who think becoming a MOTH will get them more girls. Some of you think you are pretty bad-ass at Mixed Martial Arts. That you're invincible, and during spec-op insertions you'll topple authoritarian regimes single-handedly." He chuckled quietly.
"Then there's the group of you who are here because you think you're pretty good at video games—you want to pilot ATLAS mechs, kill some SKs in Mongolia, and it'll be a grand old time. You bought all the accessories to make your games completely immersive, so you think you're as prepped as can be. But I'll tell you something. Your game designers took out the bad stuff and amped up the fun stuff, leaving you with a poor simulation of what it's like to actually be a spec-ops man. Having to run ten klicks to a rendezvous wearing full kit and carrying a hundred and twenty pounds on your back without a jumpsuit in the mountains of Khentii Province, your beard covered in icicles and your toes so frozen that you can't feel them,
is not fun
. Having to sit motionless for three days in the steaming jungles of the lowlands, waiting for your target to emerge from his mudbrick hole, while fire ants crawl up your every bodily orifice and you crap your pants and tinkle down your own leg,
is not fun
.
Instructor Reed smiled widely. "But it's not all bad. You do get to do some pretty awesome stuff on the government's coin. Camping out in the wilderness with some of the best outdoorsmen in the world, not to mention using the best gear. Spending a month training with the best marksmen and sharpshooters known to man, with the best weapons. Riding in starships. Visiting new worlds and colonies. And now and then you might actually get to pilot an ATLAS.
"Anyway, right reasons or wrong, you're here. And I have to work with what I'm given. But to succeed you gotta want this more than anything in the world.
More
than anything. This is not a game. This is not a pleasure cruise. You will get hurt. You will get scarred, emotionally and physically.
"Most of you know by now that there's nothing free in this life. Anything of any value is worth fighting for. The more valuable that thing is, the harder the fight. To call yourself a MOTH is one of the most valuable things in the world." He pointed at the door. "The only free thing in the world is right there. You want free, you step through that door, you grab the gavel in the grinder and hit the flint stone three times, and you're done. It's called tapping out. No one will think any less of you. No one will judge you. In fact, you'll be rewarded. We always have fresh cronuts, coffee and a warm blanket waiting for any student who taps out. And a paid ticket back to your former division, if you have one.