Author's Note: So this is the first chapter of "The Prodigy. I'm not sure how long I will make the overall story, but I'm hoping less then 20 chapters.
I also noticed that some writers have songs that correlate with their work. While I did not have any specific songs in mind while making this fanfiction, I can definitely see the album Kid A by Radiohead being a soundtrack to "The Prodigy". I especially favor the songs: Optimistic, Idioteque, Everything in Its Right Place and The National Anthem
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Well, this is Chapter 1. And I also encourage you guys to submit a review. Thanks for reading!
I
A large ship descended down Zebes' atmosphere and landed squarely in the middle of a large, grassy field. The large hangar doors opened and a battalion of Pirate Trainees emerged and lined up in front of the large recruit ship. Each pirate trooper over seven feet tall and each of them had their backs hunched over.
All except one Pirate. He was not as muscular as his fellow recruits. He was also about a full head shorter then the rest of them. As a result, his standard military uniform looked a little too large for his frame and it hung more loosely then it should have. His back, however, was quite straight, which was extremely unusual for a Space Pirate. Yet because of his height, no one really noticed this odd trait.
How did I get here?
NB-810 stood alongside the fresh faced graduates. With his posture straight and hands at his side, the young Pirate waited for the arrival of the Army Instructor. The sun was firmly placed in the center of the sky and its punishing heat was corrosively beating him down. He heard the whiny buzzes and screams of miniscule insects around his ears and above his head. He glanced upwards for a brief moment and saw dark shapes with wings gliding lazily in the sky. So many creatures and so much evidence of nature and organic components. The Homeworld he was raised in was already becoming a distant memory. NB-810 thought he would go mad.
How did I get here?
NB-810 paused. He tried to remember when he first realized there was something quite special about himself. It felt so long ago…
First day of Primary. NB must have been, what, five or six years old? Anyways, he remembered the first day of Introductory Combat Class. The shriveled, senile Instructor was teaching the children about elementary battle forms and techniques. NB wasn't paying too much attention. Most of his focus was on a thin piece of metallic foil he found while walking into the classroom. He enjoyed twiddling it with his fingers.
"You! NB-180!"
He remembered the sharpness and volume of that voice. It made his head snap up rather quickly. The Instructor looked irked.
"Care to repeat to the class what I just said?"
He stared stupidly at the Instructor. Some of his classmates giggled. The Instructor scoffed. It was the meanest, most derisive sound that the six year old has ever heard. Something deeper then embarrassment bubbled in his stomach.
"Seems like we got some work to do. Don't you think, NB-810?"
"Yes, sir."
NB hung his head in shame and was in a humbled mood for the rest of his first day. As he prepared for his second, the boy made a vow to work hard and never make his teachers scoff at him like that again.
Fourth (or was it third?) year of Primary. NB has proved himself to be an extremely gifted and accomplished student. He remembered memorizing steps to complicated combat techniques in a day and mastering them usually in a week. It wasn't long before he was completely ahead of students in his level. In subjects besides combat, NB-810 showed similar progress. He excelled in Pirate Lore, Weapon Management, Basic Engineering, and Marksmanship. In a few months time, he finished his level's curriculum, something that usually takes a full year to complete. The Primary's head officer was very interested in NB's meteoric academic progress. One day, he invited him to his office and talked with him about some advanced courses he can take alongside older students. The ten year old agreed.
And look at where that decision brought me…
Sixth year. NB was ready to graduate from the Primary. The trouble was that he was only twelve. Far too young to join the army like regular graduates would do. The head officer knew he couldn't keep NB here for eight more years until he was of proper age. He started sending numerous transmissions to the newly started training camp on Zebes to accept the youth. And the return transmission was always the same: "Wait."
The old geezer didn't give up though. He kept on urging the base to recruit NB-810 and train him. Finally, he called him to his office to talk about the army's decision.
"Unfortunately, the camp at Zebes doesn't seem to realize your excellent abilities here at this Primary and won't allow you to be a true Pirate until you are of normal age."
"That's a shame, sir. Perhaps I can stay here and be an assistant to the Instructors. I do not mind waiting for a couple more years."
"That will not do, NB-810!" said the head officer in a forceful tone. "I will make sure you get into the army as soon as possible. I will vouch for you to High Command itself!"
NB was taken back. Making a direct statement to High Command could have disastrous effects if the message is not to their liking. Before he could utter a word of protest, the head officer dismissed him from his office.
NB went down to Introductory Combat Class. His old, senile teacher had died a couple of years ago. The new Instructor was a youthful, naïve thing who was soft on the younglings. He hired NB-810 as his substitute shortly after the boy finished Primary to fill in for him in case he was absent. And today, the fool was gone to who knows where.
NB looked at the curious, innocent faces staring at him. It's hard to believe he's training them to eventually kill others. Training them to steal a life. Training them to cut it short. But something about being an influence in each of the youngling's lives held a particular fetish to the twelve year old. Why it did, he could never understand.
He remembered seeing a vacant boy looking out of a window in the room. NB checked his list to see who this boy was. He called out in a voice full of sharpness and volume:
"You! QX-50!"
The boy's head snapped up. Inwardly, NB-810 was laughing gleefully. Outwardly, he scoffed.
"Seems like we got some work to do. Don't you think?"
Two years later. NB-810 was sparring with non-lethal energy scythes with a group of tenth year students when he remembered seeing two figures enter the practice room. One was the wizened head officer. The other was a Space Pirate with very elaborate armor and wearing an intricate headpiece. NB recognized him as member of High Command. He immediately stopped his mock fighting and acknowledged the illustrious member in the appropriate manner. His tenth year opponent followed suit. The High Commander bowed his head to both of them and motioned them to continue. NB resumed his sparring, aware of the Commander's gaze on his form, techniques and strategy. He ignored it and refocused his mind on the battle.
This particular tenth year was quite a challenge. His offense was formidable and his defense was solid. However, NB saw that he attacked with his scythe far away from his body and rarely came up close to engage in combat. NB took advantage of the tenth year's exploitable weakness and rushed up closer to him, using sharper movements instead of longer swipes and cuts. Flustered, his opponent was beaten quite soundly in a few minutes time with a hit on his right side. Then another lined up to spar and so forth.
NB-810 wiped a film of sweat from his brow. All the students were gone and he was the only one left to clean up the room. Mopping the floor, the fourteen year old remembered feeling a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw the High Commander in front of his face. It was sheer luck that he did not drop the mop right then and there.
"Your sparring skills are quite incredible, NB-810." said the High Commander.
The boy thought over his words carefully in his head. Saying the wrong thing to the highest ranking Space Pirate usually meant a painful death.
"I do not deserve such praises from your lips, Lord Commander." NB said quietly.
"Believe me when I say you deserve it all and more. I have heard about your numerous achievements from this Primary and, shame on myself, did not believe more then half of it." The High Commander laughed softly. "How wrong am I!"
Pride involuntarily swelled up in him and NB couldn't help but smile. A High Commander was actually praising him! Some Pirates would die for the compliments he was getting.
"And I am very pleased to tell you," said the High Commander, laying his hand on the youth's shoulder (NB almost fainted; he was getting touched by a High Commander!) as he continued, "the Space Pirate army has decided to enlist you after your headmaster's persistent requests. You will be sent to Zebes alongside the other graduates in a month where you will begin your training."
NB was shocked and it must have been evident for the Commander let out a boisterous laugh.
"Cheer up, soldier! You look like you've seen a dead Pirate! Realize that you are the youngest recruit the army has ever accepted! An unprecedented movement! I will see you in a month, NB-810!"
The fourteen year old was still silent. NB still doesn't remember what he was feeling that moment. It must have been very incapacitating, for he forgot to acknowledge the High Commander leaving the practice room; a crime punishable only by death.
Ah.
NB-810 was still waiting in his row. He was sweating profusely underneath his uniform. The sun was blazing. The hidden wildlife in Zebes' jungles was making strange noises. NB could hear the labored breathing of his comrades, most of whom came from a different Primary then the one he attended. What loneliness!
Finally, a strident whistle was heard over the expansive training field. The whistle of an army Instructor. The recruits stood at attention and the faint outline of a Space Pirate could be seen jogging from a gray, blocky building on the other end of the field. He was tall and muscular, even for a Space Pirate. His face was steely and hard, like Talloric alloy. Despite this, the Instructor looked surprisingly young. Like most Pirates, his back was dramatically hunched over.
Nexus looked at each recruits. Promising forms and faces. A good batch this year. He immediately recognized NB-810, who looked so out of place that Nexus was inclined to burst out and laugh. But in an impressive demonstration of control, his face remained steely. After a through examination of the troops, he finally addressed them in a booming voice:
"Alright, you worthless pieces of bile and scum! Welcome to day one of training. You'll be assigned bunk rooms at Main Building A and you will go to your bunks and deposit the worthless piles of crap you brought with you. Report back here in twenty minutes. GO!"
There was spontaneous movement of feet as couple hundreds of trainees ran frantically to Main Building A. NB-810 did his best to avoid being trampled as he tried to keep pace. But soon, he was outpaced by taller, stronger legionaries and he was left running far behind the group.
"I am a fool. I am a damned, damned fool."