Golden Fields

Chapter 2: The Academy

Strantor Mechwarrior Academy, Strantor,

Lyran Alliance,

September 23, 3061

Despite the importance of Ras arriving on planet Strantor to start his Mechwarrior education, all he could think about was getting Lane a good birthday present, since this very day was Lane's 9th birthday. The dropship landed with a dull thump on one of the Academy's landing pads, and the dropship officer started to guide the recruits down the dropship's ramp and into two orderly lines on the tarmac outside.

As Ras joined the other jostling boys and girls down the ramp, he realized that his family had been the only thing on his mind during the whole trip here. His recently-deceased parents, his kind foster parents, and kid brother had occupied his thoughts, and he couldn't shake their faces from his mind's eye. Ras then realized that he already deeply missed them, and that his chosen career could end his time with them prematurely.

Ras forced a grin, knowing that such morbid thoughts would only slow him down. He hefted his heavy duffel bag again, determined to start this off well. After all, the weather on Strantor was nearly perfect, with warm but not hot air and gentle breezes, and a clear blue sky with a few scattered clouds and a bright yellow sun. The Academy's campus rested on a plain of short grass, with hilly forests and mountains in the background. Ras could also see a gleaming silver metropolis only a few dozen miles away from here, which rested in a break from the hilly forests. Most likely, a train system would connect that city to the Academy.

"Attention, recruits!" the officer barked, walking up and down the two lines of boys and girls as they stood in silent attention. "Only hours ago, you were civilians, just common folk! You boarded that dropship and are now on Academy rounds, which makes you a recruit. Does that mean that you're Mechwarriors?"

"No, sir!" everyone shouted at once, and Ras felt very silly and self-conscious as he shouted with them. He was standing in the front of his row, and a red-haired boy stood next to him in front of the other line. The boy gave Ras a mocking glance which Ras fought hard to ignore.

"Damn right! Being a recruit at this Academy is a very temporary existence," the officer went on, reaching the back of the line and starting toward again. He wore an officer's cap over what Ras presumed was a military buzz-cut. "You are recruits because you stand on Academy grounds with the intention of being a student here, but you are not students! This is a gray area. Those of you who are serious, those of you who really want to be here, will go into the Training Center – the biggest building here – and speak to Instructor Harrow to formalize your student status here! If you choose to do that, you will be a Cadet, and obligated to devote every fiber of your being to graduating as a Mechwarrior! As a Cadet, you will not sell yourself, or anyone else, short! Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir!" Ras shouted with everyone else, suddenly feeling nervous. This was a little more complicated than he was expecting. He could just turn tail and leave now? That's what it seemed like, based on the officer's words.

As though reading his mind, the officer concluded, "Therefore, this is your last chance to turn around and leave if this is not what you want. If you came here just as an experiment, or for thrills, or for any other goddamn reason besides 'I want to be a good Mechwarrior', then I want you to turn and get back on that dropship and leave! You will only appreciate the scope of training here once you've seen the campus and once you've heard what I have to say. Well? Everyone who is not willing to commit their life to this should board that dropship and go home. You have thirty seconds, recruits."

The officer pointed a thick finger at the waiting dropship, daring anyone to become intimidated and leave the line. Ras stood stock-still, trying to keep the tremors out of his body and trying to ignore the sweaty dampness of his shirt. I came here to make everyone proud. I'm not a wimp or wash-out! I'm going into that Training Center to become a Cadet, like the officer said. Even if I'm the only one!

As it turned out, nobody chose to get back on the dropship, and the officer nodded, rubbing his hands together.

"You lot either have a lot of guts, or you're just following the herd," he told the double line of recruits. "The instructors here are going to find out who's truly committed and who's just trying to blend in. I promise you that."

Ras could have sworn that the officer had a smug grin on his face as he finished speaking, but there was no time to dwell. The officer motioned for the lines to move forward, and Ras led his line along the footpath and closer to the Training Center. The Center was enormous, over a tenth of a mile wide, and shaped like a flat tuna can with a domed top. To the right, several square miles of grassland were devoted to 'mech training fields. All sorts of light and medium 'mechs stomped around, firing training lasers at each other and at dummy targets, or else running obstacle courses.

Ras watched as a Wasp 'mech skitter to the right to dodge a Commando's laser volley, then hit back with a medium pulse laser and SRM 2. These weapons hit the Commando dead on, blasting off armor. However, the Commando fought back, dodging further laser attacks and striking the Wasp with an SRM 4. Both 'mechs ran circles around each other after that, trying to find weaknesses in the other's guard.

"Do you see that, recruits? Live 'mechs in action," the officer told everyone. "If you little boys and girls are lucky and skilled enough, you might get a chance to pilot one and prove you're something. Otherwise, forget it."

The view of the training field was cut off as Ras and the other recruits entered a door in the Training Center, advancing down a short hallway and into a large lobby. The officer departed as an Academy instructor took his place. She was a curvy woman with wavy blond hair that fell to her shoulders, and she had glasses with thick plastic frames. She eyed the recruits standing in the center of the room.

"Well, get a move on! Don't stand there like fools," she demanded, motioning for the recruits to step up to a long counter where several Academy staff worked. Ras jolted, and he and the others moved up to the counter where they each received an Academy-issue duffel bag, meaning that Ras now carried two. Whoops! Guess I was over-prepared, Ras thought with a wry grin.

When everyone had their bags, the instructor lined them up in one big line, everyone facing her. "I am Instructor Harrow, and will oversee the first three years of your training here," she sternly told everyone, pacing up and down much like the earlier officer did. She clasped her hands behind her back, her hard eyes taking in everyone present. "You are now Cadets, do you understand me? Cadets! That means that the next five years of your life will be devoted 100% to training and conditioning yourself to be worthwhile Mechwarriors! Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am!" everyone shouted, and Instructor Harrow shook her head, her wavy blond hair whipping everywhere.

"No, you don't!" she barked. "Not just yet. You only have a vague idea and some shaky optimism! Spend a year here, no, six months, and you'll understand what it's like to be here and to be a Cadet. Not before."

Talk, talk, talk, Ras lamented about his experience so far. This is... unsettling.

Instructor Harrow spread her arms wide. "Now, Cadets, you'll be guided to your dorms. Spend the rest of the day as you will, for it'll be the last carefree day you'll have in a very long time. Understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," everyone chorused, and the longer Ras looked at Instructor Harrow, the harder it was to resist a laugh. He realized too late that his countenance had broken; his jaw trembled as he chuckled quietly.

Instructor Harrow was quick to notice. She stalked over to Ras and stood right before him, towering at least two inches above him. Ras suppressed his laughter only at the last second, but the damage was done.

"Is something funny, Cadet?" Instructor Harrow asked Ras in a deadly quiet, her eyes boring into his.

"N-no!" Ras yelped, resisting the urge to back up a few steps. "I-I was just..."

"You think this is a game? Just a bunch of huge metal toys and a backyard war before dinner?" Instructor Harrow hissed. "I thought you came here to be a warrior." She grabbed Ras' collar with strong hands. "Tell me why this is funny! Don't hide anything from me."

Ras decided on the spot that honesty was indeed a virtue. "I-I was laughing because... um, because you're a strict drill instructor, but you look like an elementary school teacher."

Instructor Harrow considered this. "A school teacher?" she repeated. "Cadet, what's your full name?"

"Ras Conrad Farlow," Ras recited at once.

"Well, Ras, do you have any younger siblings? A little brother, or a sister back home?"

"Y-yeah. A little brother. He turned nine today," Ras answered, suddenly wishing that he were at home on Extama with Lane instead of being here. Why me?

"In that case," Instructor Harrow said as she let Ras go, "if your younger brother's elementary school teachers are anything like me, then perhaps he will grow up to be a man and not be like the disrespectful runt I see before me."

A number of the recruits chuckled nervously, but none of them felt the ego-crushing blow that Ras had been dealt. Instructor Harrow said to everyone at large, "Let that be a lesson to all of you! No matter what I look like, I am not your nanny. I am here to break down your old selves and re-invent you as Mechwarriors. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!" everyone shouted yet again, Ras the loudest of all. With that, the Cadets were filed out of the room and into a wider hallway.

"Nice going, pretty boy," the red-haired boy smirked, intentionally bumping past Ras. "See you around! Ha ha!"

"Brat," Ras muttered, but he felt like the real brat. First there was the name-calling boy on the transport, and now this guy, too! All of Ras' anxiety was manifesting the worst in him, his habit of blurting out everything on his mind and not having any manners, especially when provoked by people like these. He was never a malicious or hurtful person, and in fact he was very supportive of others, but his jaw was on a loose hinge. I've really, really got to do something about that. It'll get me killed here!

*o*o*o*o*

There were a number of cafeterias in the Training Center that also acted as lounges, with eating tables, couches, and vending machines everywhere, not to mention wall-mounted TV's and potted plants for scenery. Early in the evening, Ras was in one such lounge, munching on a vending machine sub sandwich as he sat morosely on one of the couches. He just wanted to be alone, except that a number of Tyaks had tried to steal his sandwich. The little blue-furred beasts had been easy enough to deter, however.

"Mind if I join you?" a voice asked, and Ras jolted and looked up to see a dark-haired boy standing before him, with dignity and pomp in his stance.

"Uh... no, not at all," Ras invited him, patting the couch space next to him. "How's it going?"

"I'm all right. Timothy Lorin, by the way," the boy introduced himself as he sat, offering Ras a hand. Ras shook it. "I'm Ras Farlow, as you found out from earlier today."

"Yes, I was going to mention that," Timothy said bracingly. "Listen, Ras. Don't let Harrow's words get you down. Everyone has their mishaps, me included. You have five years' time to prove yourself. This? Just a little speed bump. We're all bound to anger the instructors at some point of our training, I'm sure of it. You're not alone."

"Thanks, man," Ras nodded his appreciation. "I guess I'm just over-thinking it. I'll probably feel better in the morning, and when I'm busy tomorrow too."

"Agreed," Timothy nodded. "You won't make your little brother ashamed, I'm sure, but proud. What's his name?"

"It's Lane," Ras told him, his gut squirming for some reason. "He wants to be a Mechwarrior too, so I've got to set a good example."

"Lane... Farlow? Lane Sirius Farlow?" Timothy asked, sounding excited.

Ras frowned. "Yeah. Why the big fuss?"

"I know that name. He's one of the forty Prodigy children, isn't he?" Timothy pressed on. "And before you ask, my family, the Lorins made the Prodigy Program. I've seen the list of names."

"That's right," Ras agreed, feeling amazed that someone here cared about that. He could remember when he was six, and seeing the rounded belly of his pregnant mother at home.

"Your little brother is in there, Ras," Laira Farlow told her young son as Ras patted a hand on her belly. "You're a very special boy, Ras, but here's a little secret. Your brother was given a gift by the Lorin family. He got Mechwarrior memories imprinted into his unborn mind! When he's older, he'll be a great warrior because of that. He's going to be a Prodigy."

"Do I have them, too?" Ras asked, his hand feeling a kick from his unborn brother in the womb. He giggled from the unexpected movement.

"No, but you are older than him. You'll have the experience and wisdom to guide your brother," Laira told Ras with a smile. "Plus, you have a big heart and your brother will look up to you! Be good to him, Ras."

"What are you going to name him?" Ras asked, curious.

Laira rested her own hand on her round belly. "Your daddy and I are considering the name... Lane," she said. "Because he'll pave a path of hope and courage for others to follow. But first, you have to pave a path for him!"

"That's funny," Ras giggled again, thinking how his brother would have a word for a name. He was eager to have a younger brother around.

"You seem distracted. Thinking about the brother?" Timothy asked, snapping Ras back to the present.

"Oh. Yeah," Ras nodded awkwardly. "What about you? Anyone back home?"

"Two brothers, three sisters," Timothy said. "I'm second-oldest. My elder, Boren, is here but he flunked out of Cadet training. He's working on becoming a Special Unit Officer instead. Maybe we'll see him around."

"Cool," Ras acknowledged.

"Oh... and very important," Timothy added, fishing a picture out of his pocket and showing it to Ras. "My second-youngest sister, Jennifer? She's a Prodigy, too."

"Whoa," Ras muttered in surprise, feeling a sudden connection to Timothy as he examined the picture. A nine-year-old girl stared back, her hair light purple and her eyes soft amber. Her expression was serious beyond her years. Ras handed the picture back. "Do you think that Lane and Jennifer might ever meet? Since they're both Prodigies."

"Very likely, in fact," Timothy grinned. "This Academy will act as the training center and home base of the forty Prodigies once they're old enough. Neat, huh? They'll all follow our footsteps."

Ras looked around and nodded. "Very much so."

Timothy clapped Ras on the shoulder and stood up. "I'll be off," he said. "Nice meeting you, Ras Farlow."

Ras took his chance; he smiled and offered his hand for another shake, which Timothy accepted. "The pleasure is mine, Timothy."

Timothy grinned and walked off, leaving Ras alone once again. His sandwich lay neglected on his lap, and a Tyak pounced on its chance and ran off with it. Ras didn't mind. Again, I piss someone off and make a friend later. If I keep this up, my army of friends will fight my army of enemies on my behalf! I'd rather not things turn out that way. How about all-friends instead?

*o*o*o*o*

Valdenfel Market District, Strantor,

Lyran Alliance,

September 23, 3061

Strantor was known for having a very mild temperature range, with warm evenings and mornings alike. Ras wasn't chilly at all in the early autumn evening as he wandered up and down the downtown market district of Valdenfel. That was the name of the city that was situated near the Academy, and Academy Cadets and officers alike went here for a break, to enjoy the many shopping and entertainment districts the city had to offer. Best of all, there was a Battlemech arena in the city's heart. It didn't compare to the famed Solaris VII 'mech jock arenas, but thousands flooded to Valdenfel's arena every year to watch Mechwarriors duking it out. Ras hoped to get a chance to see some of that action sometime.

"Well, time for a present," Ras thought out loud as he navigated the sidewalk crowds of Valdenfel, browsing the various shops and malls that offered countless goods. For the most part, Ras had wandered around Valdenfel for almost two hours, just getting to know the place and have some time to himself.

He had to get back to the Academy soon, however, so he intended to wrap up his visit here. The thing was, Ras couldn't decide what to get for Lane to send in a package to Extama. At that moment, Ras passed by a small toy store that wasn't too crowded, so Ras went inside for his present hunt. He loped up and down the racks of toys, weighing each choice against his limited budget. Then, a row of Battlemech toys came into view, all the figures contained in square boxes and made by the same company as Lane's toy Centurion.

Well, look at that! Ras thought with wonder, seeing that a few Clan 'mech models stood alongside the Inner Sphere 'mechs. The Atlas models were all sold out right now, but a few Thor and Daishi models were in their place, and even a few models of a particular 'mech that Ras knew symbolized the Clan invasion itself. Ras reached out and picked up the box for a Mad Cat model, seeing the plastic 'mech inside. Like the real version, this 'mech looked like a Marauder-Catapult hybrid, thus the name. On the back of the box were the words "The Mad Cat is a symbol of the Clan military might, but now your child can bring home this mighty 'mech for hours of fun! With fully movable joints and a sturdy plastic frame, this 'mech model is perfect for your little Mechwarrior!"

What is this, propaganda? Ras thought in shock. Encouraging kids to all grow up to fight against threats like the Clans with these toys? Lane shouldn't see something like this. Ras set the Mad Cat box back onto the shelf, but after staring at it for a few seconds, he changed his mind. After all, Lane was a good kid; he'd do what he wanted, not what the toy manufacturer or propaganda corps wanted. Besides... Ras thought that the Mad Cat looked really neat. It couldn't hurt.

Ras picked the box back up and took it to the register, ringing up a 10 C-Bill price for the toy. The cashier stuck it into a plastic bag, smiling. "Something for a younger brother?" she asked politely.

"That's right. He's got one model 'mech, but I think he's tiring of having it fight dinosaurs," Ras smiled back as he accepted the bag and receipt. "Now he can have some real battles."

"That's funny," the cashier said brightly. "Have a good night, sir."

"You too," Ras wished her, and he departed the store and got back on the train to return to the Academy. He promptly visited the mail room to have the toy sent by package to Meadow Town on Extama, with a note inside for his brother. Lane is going to love this!