AN: Thanks to those of you sticking around as this story finally starts getting on track.
One of my goals for this entire story is to show that the myth of the heroic and natural born warrior surrounding Shepard is made up. It's part legend because of his incredible exploits and part propaganda from human sources to hype one of their greatest icons. By now you will have noticed I have given him quite the large array of personal issues that will only deepen and help define him as his military career goes on.
He's going to mature and become exceptional as a leader and combatant as he grows older and more experienced, but the learning process will be painful and you're going to see sides of Shepard that will make him seem less than noble. He's going to whine and be pessimistic. He's going to have issues with self esteem. He's going to say the wrong things and get himself into situations he could have avoided. He's going to get frustrated with things outside of his control. He's going to have emotional hangups relating to his family, alive and dead. In other words, he's going to be human.
My hope is that by the time the real focus of the story begins you understand how he can become a paragon style special forces soldier who effortlessly commands respect and leadership from those that work with him and can empathize with those he encounters across the galaxy. He's going to be intelligent and cynical enough to recognize the angles of politics and economics that drive much of the conflicts he's involved in. He'll recognize that not everyone he fights is his enemy, but they're enemies of the Systems Alliance and Citadel Council. He's going to have a renegade streak in him that surfaces when he's truly pissed or dealing with subjects that touch a nerve. He's going still going to be that big goofy kid from an outer colony farming planet that never thought he'd be in the thick of saving the galaxy.
And if you pay attention to his dream sequences throughout the story, you'll see he's getting some help.
Dodola Orbital Station, Reach, Epsilon Eridani, Orior Cluster; June 25th, 2572 [Standardized Terran Calendar], 1937 [Local Time, Terran Standard]
I had hoped my luck wold take a change for the better when my trip ended at the space station tethered above Manassas. Apparently the UNSC Air Force thought differently. As the uniformed asshole yelled out names and assigned group numbers I mused to myself that after less than thirty minutes on Reach my theory that the universe hated me was looking more and more accurate.
After having been rushed through the decon and screening process I was lumped in with a larger group of recruits and guided with more of that polite and courteous military manner towards the deck the UNSC occupied on the station. Did everyone in the military have to be a humorless asshole pissed off with the galaxy and everything in it?
Wait. Was I going to turn into a humorless asshole pissed off with the galaxy and everything in it?
That train of thought came to grinding halt at the sight of the Air Force dock. A large hangar housing rows upon rows of dropships, shuttles, and fighters. All around them uniformed personnel scuttled about performing maintenance and resupply. Overhead a large dropship cast an imposing shadow over our large group as the automated ceiling mounted crane system moved it from it's berth and into a launch bay. The staccato sounds of tools being used and loud conversations being had pierced the air over the steady thrum of thrusters and engines warming up.
The last time I had seen this much activity in one place had been in the aftermath of Mindoir. The UNSC had been there for that, too. I'm not quite sure how I felt about seeing it again, but I needed to get used to it, right? This is my job now.
Most of the group was so giddy with the beginning of their military experience that they gladly complied with the insultingly brusque commands and rushed towards their assigned dropship. A few of us, like myself, were more hesitant. Perhaps they had their own bad experiences? Or just a fear of heights or flying?
Still, we had joined the UNSC and here we were. Finally starting our military careers in style with a real combat vehicle. Not some slowpoke tether elevator or commercial transport.
Admittedly I wasn't completely put out by the situation. There was a small thrill of excitement that went through me that eased my discomfort as the rear door slowly raised and sealed with a quiet hiss. A dull red light flickered on, illuminating the interior and bathing everything in crimson highlighted by black shadow. The dropship vibrated and shifted as the engines activated and the automated crane system clamped down to move us to a launch bay. Static electricity tingled my body as the eezo core began it's job of lightening the mass of the vehicle. Enough to make me roll my neck and shoulders the best I could while secured tightly in my harness.
I tried thinking back to my only other experience aboard a UNSC dropship, but I found the details... lacking. Looking back, so many details were fuzzy. I chalked it up to the exhaustion, fear and overwhelming shock I felt that day.
Or maybe I was just suppressing the memories.
I couldn't remember what we had for breakfast or what we talked about during the trip to Nouveau Basel. But other specific moments were ingrained into my mind with stark and vivid precision. The way that woman had begged with her eyes for us not to leave her. The feeling of the asari's pistol pressing into my neck as she growled in her heavily accented English. And the lifeless way my mother's eyes gazed off into the distance as her body lay a few meters from the home she had lived in for nearly two decades and raised three children.
Shaking my head, I chastised myself for delving into negative thoughts and made an effort to put the past where it belonged. I was here and I was going to be a Marine. And judging from the way everything felt weightless, I was about to experience my first orbital insertion. How cool was that?
Not very cool at all, actually.
Now, I've exited and entered orbit plenty of times. Been a passenger in an orbital transport or tether elevator as it zipped through the atmosphere of a planet. Who hasn't? It was a regular everyday part of life. But none of that prepared me for the free fall of a military dropship.
Scratch that. The accelerated dive of a military dropship.
When they say 'dropship' they mean it. Less than ten minutes from GSO to tropo. I'm positive my stomach is still somewhere in the mesosphere between Dodola station and Manassas.
One of the other recruits didn't even bother with being figurative and introduced the contents of her stomach to the interior of the troop bay. It looked suspiciously like one of those breakfast wrap type things that transports try to sell for cheap. The partially digested mushrooms and eggs sort of gave it away.
Another neat thing to find out was that vomit has interesting ways of getting everywhere during a drop. Like along the right pant leg of my coveralls. The things you learn. I'm certain the single flight crewman was overjoyed judging from the way he just glared at the poor girl who had barfed all over the inside of his troop bay.
Once the dropship ended it's insane dive and leveled out the rear door finally opened to let in some much welcome fresh air. Right away we were hit with the overpowering smell of pine and cedar trees mingled in with the blast of the chilling temperature outside. I had to shield my eyes from the sudden rush of cold wind and harsh glare as I adjusted to the sunlight of Epsilon Eridani after being aboard a transport for a week and then the dimly lit troop bay of this dropship.
Blinking away tears and the spots in my vision, I was finally able to take in the amazing view. A dozen or so of the other dropships flew behind our own as we descended between high mountain passes capped with snow. Spread out as far as I could see, the lower slopes and valleys were filled with thick forests of dark green trees. No doubt the source of the smell. In the valley floor below was a large river that shined blue and gold as it twisted and turned through a series of rapids. Our dropships seemed to be following it's path and if I squinted I could make out a network of roads and buildings tracing the river through the dense forest as well.
My stunned amazement slowly dulled as my shivering increased. I'm not the least bit hesitant to admit it. I dislike the cold and I had been fortunate enough to have lived all my life on two warm worlds. If this was where I would be spending the next few months, then I was not going to be enjoying the weather. Gazing around the troop bay, it would seem most of my fellow recruits had the same idea. Everyone looked pale and cold. Well, everyone except Miss Upchuck herself who still looked a bit grayish green.
Another twenty minutes and the dropship banked to the right, upsetting my stomach once again as it descended into a large clearing surrounded by a vast complex of buildings. The flight crewman jumped from his seat the instant the skids touched the grassy field to began barking at us in that military manner that I was beginning to believe was the only way any of them knew how to talk. "Listen up! Seat restraints have been disabled! Undo them and grab your gear! Exit in single file and follow all instructions from the people on the field! Welcome to Reach and thank you so fucking much for redecorating the inside of my dropship, nubs!"
Troops clad in the standard blue and gray uniforms of the UNSC wearing black caps and red brassards stood a safe distance away from the dropships. Their gestures were aggressive as they yelled over the roar of the dropships to quickly move to their location. As I exited my dropship I could feel the welcome rush of extremely hot air being vented from the thrusters but all to quickly I was out of range as I was forced to run to keep up with my group. Looking back at the ten dropships parked on the large field I tried to calculate just how many of us there were. If there had been been twenty recruits including myself aboard the Pelican that I rode in that gave me an estimate of two hundred.
Glancing around me as we were gathered and waiting for our names to be called I figured that was a good guess to our number. Focusing my attention back on the troops there seemed to be four separate lists with names, starting at different points in the alphabet. After several names were called I quickly realized that the dark skinned woman to the far left had started with the R's and would be working her way to the S's and me.
Having nothing better to do I took the time to examine the rest of the recruits. I couldn't be certain, but I got the feeling not all of my group from the Citadel MEPS was here. I guess that made sense, Reach was the primary military colony for the human race. There were probably training bases everywhere on this planet. Of course that meant that the majority of these recruits came from other colonies and clusters.
Before I could get further lost in my musings, my ears heard what sounded like the start of my name being called, but it proved to be a false alarm. A tall skinny guy named Sharma about four people to my left pushed his way forward. Figuring I would be up next, I tighten my hold on my bag and took a deep breath. My heart began to pound in my chest as I wondered how silly it was that I was nervous just to have my name called.
"Shepard, Luis Vincent!" She managed to mangle my first name, but I rolled my eyes and jogged forward, stopping before her as she ran her omnitool over me. A quick haptic display with a read out of my identitag was quickly skimmed over as she compared it to what was on her datapad. After a moment she frowned and sniffed the air until she pointedly looked at me. She gave me a disgusted look then rolled her eyes and shook her head slowly. She didn't even bother to speak to me when she was done verifying my information, instead jerking her head slightly behind her and towards the others who were sitting in the grass waiting for the rest to be checked in.
Taking a seat on the outskirts of the group, I blew out a breath and tried to rub the residue of vomit off my leg into the grass. All I did was manage to rub a grass stain into my coveralls. Figuring my best option was to just live with it for the time being I looked out across the field and the surroundings only to have a slight pang of nostalgia.
Despite the cooler temperature I was reminded of home back on Mindoir. Small clusters of colonial development tucked into kilometers of pristine untouched wilderness. The field was a wide open space big enough for the ten dropships, the two hundred or so of us, and still had plenty of space to spare. A dirt running track that several groups of people were using rimmed the edge of the field. Beyond that were several clusters of buildings where I could see vehicles and people moving about. Further to right I could hear more than see a group of recruits marching and singing as they emerged from around the bend of a road that lead into the forest. Finishing off the picturesque setting was the tall snowy mountains encompassing the valley we were in and a bright blue sky dotted with thick puffy clouds.
No obnoxious metropolitan settings. No teeming masses of the oblivious and ignorant. No heavy traffic and skycars zooming back and forth in skylanes. No flashing neon holographic advertisements pushing products and services you didn't want or need. No overload of automated systems that tracking and controlling everything you did or used.
So, yeah, as far as places to live for training go this wasn't bad. I mean, the temperature was cooler than I liked and I dreaded just how freezing it would be at night or early in the morning, but still I could get used to it. About as rustic and isolated as a small outer colony. Enough to fool you into believing that you were not on one of the most populated colony worlds in the Systems Alliance. In fact I think only Eden Prime and Elysium had larger populations than Reach. Rather beautiful and peaceful. So tranquil, in fact, that I started to zone out staring at the mountains and picking at bits of grass around me.
"On your feet!"
The yelled command bounced me from my own little world and the scrambling of my fellow recruits put me into a herd mentality where I rushed to follow their example. It seems that our group had been checked in and were ready to move on. A large mustached man with dark and brooding features had been the one to yell and get our attention. His uniform was similar to the rest bore patches and badges which I couldn't even begin to understand. He eyed us all critically, almost contemptuously, before waving a tall woman forward.
Her uniform was more decorative with shiny gold and silver accents. The awards and medals vibrantly popped against the blue and gray of the uniform. Everything about her just screamed professional and poised, including the calm and controlled way she stood before us with her head held high and hands loosely behind her back. Clearing her throat to address us, she spoke quickly and concisely "I am UNSC Army Captain Cho. You are all now part of UNSC Training Facility Thirteen, Ninth Training Battalion, Echo Company. My company. These troops are from Headquarters Company and will be escorting you through the rest of the orientation process. Three hours from now you will be formally handed over to my self and my chief NCO, First Sergeant Yilmaz. Until that time you are to comply with their every command." She paused, expecting a question or disagreement. When none came, she smiled slightly and nodded, "Good. I look forward to helping train you all into the next generation of humanity's defenders."
With that she turned on her heel and marched back towards the buildings on the far side of the field. The large man, First Sergeant Yilmaz, gave us all one more cursory glance with his narrowed eyes before jogging to catch up with her. I watched them go for a few more seconds before I was shocked out of my reverie again by another yelled command.
"Recruits! Let's move! Grab your gear!" One of the headquarters staff screamed. Once again we all responded like a nervous herd startled into a stampede as we grabbed our bags and were encouraged to run as a group towards the buildings.
Once there my wonderful day and luck continued. We were directed to drop our bags inside of a large reception hall and told to form into groups of ten. My group had the wonderful distinction of being the first taken across a covered walkway to a smaller building adjacent to the hall. Once inside I noticed the small room was bland with only overhead lighting and a number of drones stored in storage lockers lining the far wall.
Our handler stood by the doorway and lifted his arm to activate his omnitool. The drones whirred to life and he smiled maliciously as he gave us a word of advice, "Don't. Move."
The drones shot from their storage lockers and circled our heads, mapping us with scans before a warm sensation tingled my scalp. I frowned as a lock of my hair floated down past my face followed by the rest in a deluge that fell about my ears, nose, lips, and shoulders. Then the drone moved it's attention to my face and the warm tingle became a slightly scalding sting.
In less than thirty seconds we had been shaved and traumatized.
The drones stopped in their task and blew hot air from their thrusters to knock loose the hair. Once done they returned to their storage lockers. The handler clapped his hands, gesturing with a mocking smile for us to follow him back to the main hall, "Not bad. You almost look like soldiers. Once you get some sun on those scalps they won't look so sickly and pale."
After that we were lead to a larger facility further away that served as a warehouse where I was issued a duffel bag, a large backpack, a hard shell pack, and a footlocker. I was a bit confused as to why I would be needing this as I already had my luggage back at the reception hall.
My unasked question was answered as the staff of the warehouse and their automated VI retrieval system matched my measurements to a steadily growing pile of gear I would need for training. Uniforms. Armor. A helmet. Physical training gear. Boots. Shoes. Toiletries. They even issued me underwear, which was in this hideous drab olive green color that I was positive was designed to be able to hide evidence of an accident.
Moving all this gear back to the reception hall in one trip was an almost herculean task that left me exhausted and gasping for breath. Leaning over with my hands on my knees I curiously began to wonder if this was it or if more horrors and trials awaited me. I was saved from my imagination and idle speculation when I our group was called forward yet. We exited the hall and and followed our handler across a courtyard of sorts where I could clearly see the hustle and bustle of the training facility up close. Groups of recruits stood in formations or marched here and there. The smell of food wafted from a nearby building, causing my stomach to rumble in anticipation that we were going to be fed, but my hopes were dashed when we made a turn in the opposite direction towards another building.
As I entered the familiar smell of a medical facility stung my nose. Flashbacks to all the times I would visit my mother at the hospital on Mindoir flooded my mind. While that place had been warm and inviting to invoke a sense of calm and peace in the patients, this place clearly went another direction.
It was a small waiting room with plain concrete walls and a metal floor. Several doors lined the walls and lead to what I could only assume were the examining rooms and offices. Overly bright lighting gave everything a cold and sterile feel with minimal fuss. Rows of gray plastic seats that looked uncomfortable were arranged in a way that reminded me of the way everything I had seen so far about how this place was organized. Neat. Orderly. Plain. Military.
We were told to sit in a row near the back and wait for our names to be called. I sat down and rubbed my raw jaw and chin for what seemed like the millionth time since it had been shaven by laser. Observing the other recruits I noticed they were just as miserable as I was with varying expressions of shock and discomfort. Glancing back around the room I began worrying what could happen to you here that medigel wouldn't fix? I tried thinking back to the blur of being aboard the Einstein following the raid on Mindoir, but I couldn't remember the people or setting being as cold and lifeless. Maybe that was because they knew they were comforting civilians who had just gone through hell? Or maybe the UNSC's lack of humor or compassion extended to the medical treatment of their own?
I was proven correct when a tall blonde man with a caduceus emblazoned on his brassard entered the room and called my named, "Shepard, Luis Vincent!"
I stood and made my way to him, observing the nametag on his uniform as Mladenovic. Taking one look back at my fellow group of recruits and their fearful expressions gave me the feeling of a condemned man walking towards his execution. Turning my head back around I noticed one of the recruits who had been present before we arrived was slowly leaning forward in her seat as exhaustion gripped her, only for Mladenovic to calmly jolt her awake with a swift kick to the chair without even bothering to look at the recruit or break his stride.
Figuring he'd do something just as worse to me for lagging behind, I quickened my pace to follow him through an automatic doorway that responded to his presence and into an adjoining hallway. Coming to a stop in front of another door he keyed in his credentials with his omnitool revealing a small small examination room. He gestured for me to stand next to the examination table while he continued to review files on his omnitool and grab the necessary tools needed.
When I saw him pull out an autoinjector and several vials from a refrigerated unit my curiosity was peaked but a medical assistance drone buzzed into my line of sight. I jerked my head back, confused and apprehensive as to why this drone was coming suspiciously close about my head, scanning me and sending readings to his datapad. I had already been shaved and none of the drones my mother, or any other doctor that I knew of, were this invasive of personal space.
My attention was brought back to Mladenovic as he paused in his work to look about the room with a frown. Glancing at the vents he asked "Do you smell something?"
I frowned and sniffed, trying to smell whatever was bothering him. All I could smell was the disinfectant and maybe a slight tinge of vomit.
Oh.
Slowly it dawned on me what the offending smell he was referring to was. Bashfully I pointed to my pant leg, which he narrowed his eyes at, trying to discern what he was looking at. When he realized, he sighed, shook his head and turned slightly to activate a small device on a counter nearby. The room was soon bathed in an orange glow more powerful than the haptic display coming from his omnitool.
A sterile field generator. I recognized that too from visiting my mother. Mladenovic paid it no attention as he continued reading the files. When the sterilization ceased, he shut his omnitool off and deactivated the medical drone, "Open your coveralls and remove your left arm."
He then turned away as he prepared the automated injector. I quickly did as asked and got a better glimpse of the vials. Squinting to see their labels, I could make out the words Bravo and Marsgene. Being around Abuelo long enough I knew what this was. The genetic upgrade package given to UNSC personnel. I could only guess that I was going to be given a specific augmentation based upon my MVC code.
"Hold still. This is going to sting a bit." I braced myself as I had a pretty good idea how much this was going to hurt. Something you got used to with a mother who was a doctor was injections.
The quick sharp jab of the autoinjector was fairly benign, but the blooming and searing pain that spread as the cocktail was introduced to my body was the real kicker. I squeezed my eyes shut as I rode out the initial wave, and then breathed a sigh of relief through my nose as it slowly settled into a bearable if not irritating dull heat and throbbing that traveled up my arm into my chest and made my fingers tingle. He chuckled at my response and commented on my progress. "Not bad. A lot gasp or cry, but then again we're not over. Remove your right arm now."
I opened my watery eyes and saw him preparing the next vial. My eyes went back to the counter and I despaired at seeing how many more were left. His chuckles returned as he held the autoinjector aloft and taunted me, "One down, four more to go."
UNSC Training Facility Thirteen, Highland Mountains Military Training Grounds, Vierry Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridani, Orior Cluster; June 25th, 2572 [Standardized Earth Calendar], 2402 [Local Time, Terran Standard]
I shivered as my shaved head was freezing in the night time air of this place. Actually, all of me was freezing, but my distinct lack of hair was really pressing at the moment. So was my hunger, as we'd had only been given tubes of ossilber paste and bottles of water to tide us over about an hour ago. Then there was the entire exhaustion angle adding to my miserable state. My entire body was sore from the injections and the extra twenty kilos or so of gear I was carrying around didn't help either.
But it had all culminated with this. Now we were standing outside in a well lit courtyard next to a large two story buildings on the western end of the training facility. Shaped like two intersecting bars to make a cross and served as the barracks for each company of recruits. The ground floor was for our drill instructors and company leadership. There were offices, an armory, and storage units. The upper floors were the actual barracks themselves, with each 'wing' of the building representing a different platoon.
We stood by, waiting with baited breath that we could actually see in every exhale for our UCMT training company to receive and escort us to our barracks for the night.
And the longer they made us wait, the more irritated we felt. Even the beautiful display of auroras in the sky wasn't helping to make me or anyone else feel better.
Finally a door opened on the ground floor and a group of men and women walked out, flanking Captain Cho and First Sergeant Yilmaz as they marched forward. They stopped as one before us and waited. The Captain suddenly grinned and was excessively chirpy, "I'd say you had a long day, recruits. Right?"
There were murmurs of agreement but she paid them no heed, continuing her oddly upbeat speech, "Well, I want to thank you all for being so patient and following instructions. Now, seeing as how it's late and we all have a big day tomorrow, we'll skip the boring stuff and get you sorted into your platoons." She looked over her shoulder at the drill instructors who suddenly had large grins on their faces. "I'll leave you in the capable hands of my staff. Any order given by them is to be obeyed to the letter. Is that understood?"
Again, there were more lethargic and annoyed responses, and yet again her smile became larger, but this time it was accompanied by a slightly manic look in her eyes. "I'm going to assume this lack of enthusiasm is from a long and disorienting day combined with some slipstream lag. Nothing a good night's rest won't cure." She clapped her hands suddenly and smiled deviously, "First formation is at zero five hundred hours. Dress is the physical training uniform given to you. Be ready to start off the day right. Have a wonderful night, recruits." With a final nod she turned and walked back towards the building, leaving us with the drill instructors and the chief NCO.
Without waiting a beat, First Sergeant Yilmaz yelled "Recruits! On the ground you will see a series of alphanumeric tags painted. We will be sending a unique tag to your omnitool shortly. You will then have thirty Terran seconds to find your corresponding tag on the ground and stand on it."
Not bothering to make sure we knew what the hell he was talking about, the First Sergeant activated his omnitool and punched in a command. A split second later, all omnitools activated with a haptic display of a flashing alphanumeric number. My own read as C35. I stared at it for a second and then looked down to see where I was. Just to the left of me was a D16 but before I could look up to see where I was supposed to go I wash shoved forcefully as someone crashed into me. It took me a second to realize, but absolute chaos had erupted among the recruits as they tried to maneuver themselves and their gear in a panic.
I reached down and grabbed my own gear, only to be whacked upside the head by someone's errant elbow as they shoved their way past me. Shaking the blow off and grabbing my gear I bulldozed my way past others, not sure I was headed in the right direction but determined to at least make an effort.
A voice sounded over the cacophony, urging us on "Move it, recruits! We don't have all night!"
Looking down I saw the number D12. So the numbers were going down? That was a good sign. I think.
I continued to push and shove my way past others only to be on the receiving end of more random knees, elbows and wildly slung bags. But at the very least I had made it to the C's now.
Another voice chastised us for our slow progress, "This ain't slipstream physics, recruits! Find your damn spot!"
Finally making it near my number I noticed the path had cleared a bit more as others had stopped moving, having found their place. My arms felt like they would fall off and the blood pooling in my feet was causing them to swell and throb, but I made it to C35. Dropping everything I took in deep greedy breaths of the frigid night air that burned at the back of my throat.
My attention was drawn to the front as the beeping noise of an alarm going off pierced through the otherwise silent night.
First Sergeant Yilmaz deactivated the alarm and looked mildly impressed, raising his eyebrows in shock before looking over his shoulder at his drill instructors to gauge their reactions.
The first to respond was a tall and muscular dark skinned man, who looked as shocked as the First Sergeant. "Well I'll be damned."
Beside him a paler woman with black hair agreed with her fellow drill instructor, "Yeah, never seen that before."
Another instructor, a severe looking woman with a tan complexion and short brown hair, mused aloud, "You think the Alliance Ministry of Education is finally teaching kids how to count?"
"Even a vorcha gets shit right occasionally. My guess is they got lucky." One drill instructor didn't seem so sure. The bored expression on his face made it even more evident.
The severe looking drill instructor brightened, her face alight with a smile as she joked "Maybe that'll rub off on us? Who wants to go in on some Lucky 88 tickets?"
Shaking his head at their banter, the First Sergeant gruffly brought the discussion to an end, "Ease the chatter. Talk about that on your own time." He turned to face us and returned to the glower that seemed to be common place on his face. "Ladies and gentleman. Boys and girls. You are now a part of Highland Mountains Unified Combined Military Training Battalion Nine, Echo Company. This will be your home for the next sixteen weeks."
With a gesture to his drill instructors, they stepped forward to claim us. The first was the light skinned woman with black hair, "Those of you with alphanumeric tags starting with the letter A, welcome to first platoon. Follow me."
The dark skinned male drill instructor took her exit as his turn, calling for second platoon. "Bs, on me. And act like you know what the fuck a line is."
The dismissive drill instructor from before stepped forward, a short, stocky man with a permanent shadow of stubble along his jaw and a shaved head under his black cap. His blue eyes scanned my group before speaking impatiently "Well? Don't just stand there Cs. I don't know about you shitbricks but I want to get to sleep at a decent hour tonight."
Still exhausted from before, I begrudgingly grabbed my bags and followed the rest of my new platoon in a line as we were lead around the building towards another stairwell on the far side. Dimly lit and cramped, we moved up slowly as the long day had taken it's toll. My feet felt like they were filled with rocks, making each step a painful effort.
A the top of the stair well was a sizable landing with a large door. Our Drill Instructor stood by it and ran his hand over it the haptic lock. The door opened to a dark and cavernous room. I could only make out nearby bunk beds and lockers.
"VI, lights." The entire barracks was illuminated to reveal the full extent of the room. Our 'home' would be one massive room with walls made of concrete and brick. Dark metal plates ran the length of the floor and ceiling, giving me the feeling of being back in some prefabricated dwelling on a frontier colony. A row of bunk bends with adjoining lockers lined either side of the room. At the far end I could make out two doors leading to what I could only assume were restrooms and showers. Our Drill Instructor stood just beyond the doorway, glaring at us. With the bright lighting behind him and the lack of lighting in the stair well I couldn't make out his nametag.
"Enter the barracks but do not touch anything. Do not put your bags down. Stay here near the hatch." We followed his instructions and entered. I felt soothed by the small comfort of no longer being outside in the cold. Our Drill Instructor walked further down the barracks, stopping half way in the empty expanse at the center of the room and turning around to face us again. "There are 50 beds and there are 50 of you. You have less than twenty seconds to find a bed and stand by it. Move."
Yet again there was a rush of shoving and pushing as we all made a mad dash for the nearest bunks. Pileups happened left and right, people starting to argue over who arrived first which gave me the wild idea to pick the farthest set of bunks, figuring everyone else would be scrambling for the next available beds.
Pushing past the rest, I got ahead and made a mad dash for the end of the barracks with my bags and gear, whipping past my Drill Instructor who turned to look at me as I ran by. He shook his head and continued to scoff at his platoon."Your own bunk, shitbricks. There will be no cuddling at night in my barracks."
I made it to the end of the barracks and dropped my bags only to feel someone slam into me. Turning to look I was puzzled to see Galen next to me. Looking past him I had seen that even though I had made it here first, the rest of the platoon had followed in my wake. I frowned at Galen who looked equally annoyed to be sharing a bunk bed with me for the duration of UCMT.
"Freeze!" Everyone paused and looked at our Drill Instructor who was on the verge of a furious explosion. He glanced at the few who had yet to find a bunk and snarled at them in a barley controlled voice "Get to a fucking open bunk. Now."
The terrified recruits quickly found open spots and settled in. The Drill Instructor began pacing up and down the barracks like an angry predator, daring anyone to make eye contact with him. After several laps he snorted and shook his head, mocking us, "I knew it. Pure luck."
Centering himself in the middle of the barracks again, he raised his voice and addressed us as a whole, "This is third platoon barracks and as some of you geniuses might have guessed that makes all of you third platoon. My name is Chief Petty Officer Moises Bramante and I will be your platoon leader, drill instructor, personal tormentor, and the object of your hatred for the duration of your stay here. Following me so far?"
Just as with Captain Cho, there was a chorus of yeahs, uh huhs and a few sures. I'm positive a 'yep' slipped from my lips although at this point I was struggling just to stay awake.
Turns out, while Captain Cho wasn't concerned with our lack of enthusiasm, Drill Instructor Bramante was. "What the fuck was that? Is that jumplag I hear? Feeling a little sleepy from your long trip? Need mommy or daddy to tuck you in with a bedtime story?"
The barley contained fury from before was unleashed as his voice reached ear splitting levels as he berated us. "This might be third platoon but I accept nothing but the best! Number one, recruits! Now sound off with a refreshing 'yes, drill instructor' or I'll star the physical training portion of you education right fucking now!"
And just as before, the herd mentality kicked in as we all blurted out 'Yes, Drill Instructor'.
Even to my ears it sounded horrible. A jumbled mess. More like several people trying to talk over one another.
If Drill Instructor Bramante was upset before, then this had only helped him reach higher levels of pissed off. "Oh. Hell. No." He chuckled humorlessly and shook his head in disbelief, "That sounded like shit. Maybe you do need a little bedtime story. I like to call this one 'Therapy for Recto Cranial Inversion.' Once upon a time there was a platoon of shitbricks that had their heads up their asses. But then they were acquainted with the floor. That's when they learned to love her, hug her, kiss her and get sweaty with her because she's the only action they're gonna get in my barracks. Hit the deck, recruits!"
He dropped to the floor and we quickly mimicked his high plank form under his withering gaze. "Now when I say down you are to lower yourself to the floor and hold until I say up. When I say up you are to return to the starting position and yell out the current repetition number. Now, dooooooown."
My arms burned and my head felt light, but I complied, lowering myself to the floor. Shaking from exhaustion, I tried looking out across the barracks and was bolstered to see that everyone was just as pitiful as I was. Some even worse.
"Up!" I used all the force I could muster to raise myself off the floor and yell 'one' alongside my platoon. And even to my own ears it sounded horrible.
Turns out our Drill Instructor wasn't impressed either. "Well I suppose that the therapy isn't kicking in yet because your voices still have that head up your ass sound. Let's do that first one over again. Doooooown."
Yeah. Today is turning out to be a fantastic day.
UNSC Training Facility Thirteen, Highland Mountains Military Training Grounds, Vierry Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridani, Orior Cluster; June 26th, 2572 [Standardized Terran Calendar], 0437 [Local Time, Terran Standard]
"You're not even going to try?" My mother's voice was equal parts annoyed and dismayed. They had been arguing again. Well, more like she had been pestering him and he fumed in silence.
She wanted him to get an education. Be more than just a farmer on Mindoir, which was ridiculous. It's not like farming was something for idiots. There was a lot of work and brainpower involved. My father's intelligence shined through in his handling of everything. From picking the right stuff to grow so we made the most money from selling it come harvest or managing our water and supplies. It was easy to see how an educated and sophisticated woman like my mother had been drawn to my father. His mind and willpower could handle anything thrown at him without any special training. A master of learning things quickly as he went along.
Still, it wasn't enough. I was too young to understand at the time, but in retrospect it was easy to see the influence of her family. The constant reminders and comments from relatives about the choices she'd made with her life. It's not that she agreed with them or thought so little of him. She loved him. Believed in him and knew he could achieve so much more. So she pressured and cajoled my father, believing he would see things her way eventually. He never did.
I would always go outside when they got this way. They never laid a hand on one another or tore into each other verbally. But there would be this suffocating tension. It was palpable. Two obstinate people that loved each other too much to say what they were really thinking. Lizzy would disappear to a friend's house and Ari would be upstairs playing in her room. But I needed to be free from the confines of the prefabricated walls and my parent's passive aggressive behavior. I suppose that's why I preferred venturing out to the conservatories when I lived with my grandparents.
The warm air of a Mindoir night felt wonderful, that mixture of heat and humidity combined with the clear sky that made it pleasant to be outside. Above me the sky was filled with stars. A road map to the galaxy. Only a few hundred years ago it was the realm of science fiction to believe that humanity would be spread out among them. That in doing so we would leave behind all of our collective troubles. Be better and smarter than the generations before us.
I snorted. The stars filling the sky for me were vastly different than anything my ancestors on Earth ever saw, but the problems still remained. Family drama. Taxes. Wars. Greed. Your favorite sports team never winning the championship. All that really changed was adding aliens and better ways to kill each other into the mix.
The door opened behind me and my father stepped outside, his face contorted in repressed rage. He saw me looking at him and paused. The ire gradually receded and was replaced with embarrassment. He didn't like showing weakness in front of me or my sisters. The man had quite a bit of pride but I guess that was understandable. Since he'd left that orphanage he'd been looking out for himself in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy. It was probably also why he reacted the way he did to my mother when she pushed him on the topic.
We stayed awkwardly silent, gazing at each other and then the night sky. Neither of us knew what to say so we opted for silence, and it occurred to me this was the standard operating procedure for him with my mother as well.
He cleared his throat and prodded me with a safe line of questioning, "Did you do your homework already?" I turned to look at him and stared into his blue eyes. It was a lame question and he knew it. He might as well have asked me about the weather, but at least he was trying.
Shrugging in response I replied "Yeah, mostly. I still need to start on my project."
He nodded and tore his gaze away, looking back to the stars. "Something about the original colonies, right?"
"Yeah. I don't know which one to do." It was the truth. I might have been a procrastinator by nature, but none of the early 'Inner' colonies really appealed to me. At least, not enough to do a project on one of them.
"Mars is nice. So is Luna. Then there's Reach and Harvest. Well, before it was glassed." He ticked off a few. Places he had probably visited, no doubt. My mind wandered to my own future and if I would ever leave Mindoir to see the rest of the galaxy myself.
I quirked my lips and shrugged, still not sure what to pick but my habits for procrastination and picking the easy path shined through. "I don't know. Maybe I'll do it on Demeter. There's nothing really there. All I'd have to do is talk about the Manswell Expedition. Should be simple."
He sighed and looked back at the house, frowning before advising me. "Just don't wait until the last minute. You're mother is upset as it is." I could see the uneasy stress return in his body with the protective hunch forward in his shoulders. His head slightly lowered as his sight was focused somewhere in the dark distance of the orchards.
"It's quiet out here. Peaceful." Now I felt painfully stupid. As far as attempts to change the subject go, that was blatantly obvious, but it worked.
He smiled and nodded, the tightness dissolving as he observed the surroundings of our farm fondly. "It is. Mindoir is good for that. Peaceful. Quiet. Easy. A place to forget all your worries."
I was drawn to moments like this with him. He was so closed off and stoic at times that to see him relaxed gave me insight into the kind of person he was. After the childhood he'd had and the years spent working around the Terminus and fringes of Citadel Space he was truly at peace here on this tiny farming colony. It made me wonder about his relationship with my mother. How they both just gave up the lives they were leading to start a family out here. For her it might have been a step down, but for him it was a welcome step towards happiness.
He shrugged the tranquil moment off just as unexpectedly as it had come and headed towards his truck. "I'll be back later. Going to head into town to get some things."
Frowning, I knew he was lying through his teeth. Most of Nouveau Basel was shut down by now. The only places open for business were the restaurants, cafes, and bars. My earlier feelings soured into annoyance for him. I knew he was going to go get drunk so he could forget his latest round of my mother's badgering. I wanted so badly to tell him not to run away from his problems, but the irony of my own cowardly actions stopped me. As the headlights of his truck reversed away from the house down the gravel driveway I stomped off towards the orchards, paying no heed to the lack of light out there as I fumed in silent anger directed at my father and myself.
A few minutes into my walk one of the drones buzzed by, nearly clipping me in the head as it tended to the trees. Muttering under my breath about stupid mechs, I pressed on. Stopping to look back I could make out the outline of the house by the moon and star light. And there, under the lights on the side of the house, was my mother's body. On her stomach and eyes wide open.
Immediately I felt the panic of my memories of that day. The guilt. Why had I left? Stupid. So fucking stupid. Just like my father. Walk away from problems. Coward. If I had stayed, then at the first sign of trouble, all four of us could have piled into mom's skycar and fled... somewhere. Anywhere.
Tears stung at my eyes as I choked back a sob that sounded more like a hiccup. They had stayed waiting for me and Ari. Waiting for us to come home so we could run and hide. And they died because of us. Because of me. I know it. I mean, I didn't know it, but I knew it.
Unable to take the rush of shame and frustration coursing through my body I turned and ran. Ran with everything I had, just like I had ran that day from the batarian pirates. Just like I ran away from all my problems. I kept running, sometimes stumbling over roots. Sometimes being smacked and lashed by errant branches that left bleeding scratches on my face and arms. Eventually I reached the edge of our property and the canal. And just like before, the butt of a rifle swung out and caught me in the chest.
My vision spun and the breath in my chest froze. I landed on my back with a harsh thud and stared at the night sky dotted with stars and a single moon. What was it my father had said? Mindoir was good for this. So peaceful. So quiet. So easy. I think I'd just lay here and never get up.
Suddenly the stars and moon shined brighter and brighter until it was as intense as staring at the sun in the midday sky. I could barely make out the silhouette of the batarian as he stood over me. When he spoke this time, it wasn't in some batarian language. In fact, his voice was oddly familiar.
"Get up! I said get up, recruits! Beauty rest is over! Get. The. Fuck. Up!"
A quick jolt shook me out of my dream and I looked around wildly, finding myself in the barracks. I was in the bottom bunk and I had drooled onto my pillow. The rest of the platoon was quickly moving to stand in front of their bunks and await instructions from our Drill Instructor, who I now realized was the voice at the end of my dream.
Galen kicked the side of my mattress again and gave me pleading eyes to get up. After the introduction to a 'smoke session' last night I wasn't about to disagree with him. Making Chief Petty Officer Bramante annoyed was a recipe for pain.
I threw off the covers and stumbled out of bed. Standing beside Galen I self consciously used the back of my hand to wipe away any drool that was still on my face as our DI paced around the barracks in his physical training outfit with a large grin.
That made me nervous. Either the man was bipolar or there was something happening this morning that would make him joyful. I feared what could possibly bring a smile to his face.
"The Company Commander said formation would be at zero five hundred in the physical training uniform. It is now zero four forty five. You have ten minutes to get dressed and get outside." As if it were possible his smile became larger, giving him a slightly giddy and deranged look. "Believe me, recruits, when I say you do not want to be late your first day here."
With that he strutted out the door of the barracks and into the chill and darkness of a Reach morning.
I turned and rushed to my locker, grabbing my hygiene bag and then digging through my bags of gear to find the uniform in question. After a few seconds I had found the pieces, which consisted of a gray microfiber shirt with a black UNSC emblem over the right breast, olive green microfiber trunks with the letters UNSC across the right leg, and a set of black all terrain running shoes.
Looking around, I saw that everyone had more or less accepted the fact there would be no privacy, and had been dressing next to their bunks. Figuring it would be a waste of time just to run into the restroom to change out of modesty, I began getting dressed myself.
After finishing I shut my locker and made for the restroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. People had already begun streaming past my bunk with the same idea in mind, leading to even more chaos as people shoved and fought to get time in front of the sinks or empty their bladders in the toilets. One look around and then another at the chronometer on my omnitool told me this was pointless. I turned right back around to ditch my hygiene bag back in my locker and run outside before I was late.
The cold was worse than I had anticipated, but not so bad that I would be freezing to death. However in my own haste and clumsiness I nearly tripped and fell going down the dimly lit stairwell several times.
Upon reaching the ground floor I saw Drill Instructor Bramante staring at his chronometer in boredom. When he noticed me standing there he lowered his arm and gestured to his left, "Go stand over there, recruit. We're going to wait on the rest of your platoon."
Following his instructions I proceeded to be bored myself. I had been the first down, so now all I could do was look around the training facility blanketed in early morning darkness illuminated by the streaks of green and pink from the auroras. My extremities were starting to feel really cold so I rubbed them and shifted around in an attempt to remain warm. Glancing back to DI Bramante, I noticed the man was very muscular. With his exposed arms and legs covered in tattoos and clean shaven head, he looked the part of a rugged military man. Like something you would see in vids.
My examination of him must have garnered his attention. "Quit eyeballing me, recruit. I may be cute, but I'm not interested."
I bit back my own snarky reply of him not really being my type out of self preservation. There's no telling what this man might do to me if he felt sufficiently annoyed.
As if he sensed my fear of reprisal he stalked forward and glared at me, his face in a sneer. "Why is it that you're so far ahead of your fellow platoon mates again, recruit? Think you're better than them? Just going to leave them behind?"
Reeling back in fear and confusion I shook my head in protest, "No. I just-"
"No, what?" His sneer turned into a feral snarl as he invaded my personal space.
Racking my mind for what the hell he could possibly mean by that statement I came to the conclusion he wasn't thrilled I had forgotten his rank and title. Swallowing out of fear I meekly replied "No, Drill Instructor Bramante."
He examined me coolly, bringing up his omnitool and scanning my identitag information. "Recruit Luis Vincent Shepard?" I nodded, desperate to avoid having to verbally respond to him. His frown slowly morphed grin as he asked for clarification. "LVS?"
Again I nodded, confused as to why he was clarifying what my initials were. Was this some sort of test?
His grin grew wider, almost demented, giving me a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Recruit LVS? I like it. You're Elvis from now on. Like that name, recruit?"
My jaw dropped as I wondered how the fuck he came to that conclusion. And no, I didn't like that name. But one look at him showed that while his grin was genuine, the terrifying bipolar nature I'd seen so far was lurking in his eyes. He chuckled at my reaction and walked away, muttering something under his breath and resuming his vigil.
Before I could ponder the significance of what happened, a series of loud footfalls coming down the metal staircase signaled that more of my platoon mates would be here soon. As they trickled down they didn't even bother to say anything nor did Bramante say anything to them. They saw me standing there and moved to join me without being told. Our Drill Instructor continued to stare at his chronometer in silence, his arms folded.
After another minute or so, and several more recruits, the alarm for his chronometer went off. It was now four fifty five. Or zero four fifty five, whatever.
Swiping at the haptic display of his omnitool to shut it off the man grinned and turned to address those of us down here already. "Time is up, recruits. The high plank position we were in last night? Get into it now."
We all grumbled but complied. I couldn't even begin to fathom why I was being punished. I was here on time, right? It's not my fault the rest were late.
As the rest came down they took one look at us and froze. Drill Instructor Bramante didn't say anything. Just as he did with me he gestured to his left, this time accompanied with a shit eating grin. The belated recruits got the hint and joined us in holding a plank position. Soon the air was filled with the thunderous harmony of a bugle call.
Once we were all accounted for, the Drill Instructor took his time to walk around the platoon. By now most of us were straining, still sore from our injections and the impromptu exercise session yesterday. My own arms were trembling slightly and my face felt exceedingly warm. So much so that I hardly noticed the chill in the air anymore. To add more frustration I still had no idea why myself or the other recruits who showed up on time were being punished.
"When you are told to be somewhere at a given time, you are to be there at that given time, recruits. There is no excuse." Chief Petty Officer Bramante circled us slowly, deliberately taking his time as we labored to keep ourselves from collapsing. His tone was instructional, not at all like his usual barking manner. "You succeed as a group. You fail as a group. One person does not win a war. It is a group effort. We all do our jobs. We are a team. We are a family. It will be in your best interest to remember that. I will not tolerate someone dragging the rest down and I will not tolerate someone leaving everyone else behind. Now on your feet. We have a date to get sweaty with a hot lady."
We stood, shaking and flexing our arms to loosen them from the exertion. Following behind our Drill Instructor I had time to contemplate his words. So I hadn't been punished because of everyone else? I was punished for leaving everyone behind? How did that even make sense? How was it my responsibility to get everyone downstairs on time?
Coming back to the courtyard area I saw that our platoon was the last to arrive. The others looked just as broken and tired as we were as they stood in formation patiently while Captain Cho held her place in front again, all cheery smiles in her physical training uniform. "Glad to see you could make it, Third Platoon. I was beginning to think you overslept."
"Just had to do some on the spot training about unit cohesion and following orders, Ma'am." Drill Instructor Bramante replied smoothly.
Captain Cho smiled brightly and nodded before alluding to her thoughts on his 'on the spot training', "Good deal. It's never too early in the morning to do some training, Chief Petty Officer." She then looked to address the rest of the company with a much louder and harsher voice, "Is it, Echo Company?"
The reply of 'No, Ma'am' was as garbled and off sync as the night before. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly and shook her head, like a mother educating her children. "Well there goes the idea that a good night's rest would solve your enthusiasm problem. Not to worry. We have some high speed, low drag training prepared for you today that should remedy that."
With a loud clap that got the attention of the company, her smile widened. "If there is one thing I enjoy the most about helping turn people into marines, soldiers, airmen and sailors it's physical training." Her face took on a more sinister appearance as she continued although her voice maintained it's absurdly upbeat tone. "So, I take you've all been introduced to the front leaning rest?"
The despair that swept through myself and my fellow recruits was unmistakable.
Her face twisted into something demonic as she roared out at the top of her lungs "Well let's quit stalling and get to it then! High plank position, move!"
Dropping down onto all fours, my arms already were protesting from the abuse they'd seen since I had arrived here. Still, I assumed the position and awaited instructions while idly musing to myself that if my Drill Instructor was bipolar, then my Company Commander might be slightly insane.
UNSC Training Facility Thirteen, Highland Mountains Military Training Grounds, Vierry Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridani, Orior Cluster; June 26th, 2572 [Standardized Terran Calendar], 0631 [Local Time, Terran Standard]
Scratch that. There was no slightly. She was insane. And there is no humanly possible way anyone enjoys working out like that, let alone at that time of the morning. By the time we had struggled to finish with a so called refreshing three kilometer run she was even more chirpy than she had been at the start. How does that even happen?
Insane. There was no other way to describe her. She was literally bouncing on her feet in excitement like a child doped up on sugar after we were done. It's like she fueled herself on the pain, tears and sweat of others. Things she must have gorged on this morning.
We had been dismissed and told to wash the failure from our bodies. I couldn't agree more. If failure could be physical, it's definitely what was coating me at the moment. My training uniform was soaked with it. And the damn cold air was starting to turn that failure into freezing and stinky despair. Still, as cold as it was, the thought of crawling the rest of the way was becoming a very real possibility. The fact DI Bramante tailed behind our group dissuaded me from choosing that option.
The ascent up the stairs was pain staking as the crowd never seemed to move fast enough because each of us labored over every step. Still, the end destination offered one motivating factor. A hot shower. Emphasis on hot. The only thing that would be better was breakfast or whatever had smelled delicious wafting from the building I had passed by yesterday. And then maybe a nap.
Like the rest of the recruits, once inside the barracks I headed to my locker ready to grab my towel and toiletries. This time I wasn't going to skip out. I planned to be the first person in the showers before all the hot water was gone.
"Stand by your bunks, recruits." DI Bramante's command came just loud enough to be heard over the din of lockers and shuffling feet.
Complying with the order, I dropped my towel and hygiene back on my still unmade bunk. Galen let out a frustrated snarl and threw his own towel on his bunk and stood by my side. I frowned as I could smell the drying sweat on him but held back from complaining since I was pretty sure I was just as ripe.
Our Drill Instructor slowly walked down the length of the barracks, observing the bunks and recruits with disgust. Reaching the end he opened a door to the restrooms and poked his head in before turning right back around to face us. Shaking his head he let it be known what he thought of us "You are not home anymore, recruits. These barracks are to be in pristine order. You will make your bunks to military standard. You will not leave the latrine looking like a group of vorcha shit everywhere. You will not be late to another formation."
He opened the door to the restroom and stood by it. "Here's what we are going to do. You are all going to grab your shower items and line up at the door to the latrine. There are ten shower heads and there are fifty of you. I will give you exactly two minutes to wash yourselves before the next group enters. Simple math, all of you should be showered in ten minutes. Now line up."
Well, I sort of figured we'd be showering together but being timed as well? This was ridiculous but what could I do? Grabbing my items I jogged over to the door but was beat by an dark skinned woman. Galen was quick on my heels and managed to wind up right behind me.
We were lead into the restroom and I had to agree with his assessment. I did look like a pack of wild animals had been through here. Stopping near the shower room, DI Bramante activated the chronometer on his omnitool. "First ten recruits, strip down and get ready."
What? Right here? Just like that? There was a moment of hesitation which angered him, "It's not like any of you have something I've never seen before. You're here to wash your filthy sweaty asses, not stare at each other. Now strip. You're on the clock."
To emphasize his point, he activated his omnitool and displayed the haptic countdown, already at one minute and fifty eight seconds.
You know, at this point I should really stop being shocked by whatever this man does or says.
I quickly began divesting myself of my clothes. The other nine recruits were doing the same. The dark skinned woman in front of me began hopping on foot as she tried to remove her shoes only to crash backwards into me. Normally that would have been awkward, seeing as how both of us were partially naked and I had my right hand on her breast as I helped brace her from falling on the floor, but the running countdown of our shower time managed to bypass any feelings of modesty either of us had. She quickly righted herself and continued undressing, while I got smacked in the back of the head by Galen's elbow as he swung his arm down after removing his shirt.
One of the recruits had fully undressed and she rushed past the group of us and entered the showers. Galen was right behind her, but the slick floor caused him to slide right into her and they both fell to the floor in a heap of limbs under the spray of a single shower. DI Bramante snorted at the scene "This isn't time for a romantic show fuck, recruits. Wash up and move out."
Fully naked myself, I grabbed my hygiene bag and removed the shower gel and wash cloth. I took the showerhead farthest from Galen and his 'friend', who were still trying to get up off the floor. Not bothering to pay them any attention I turned on the shower and jumped back as the scalding hot water hit me.
"One minute, recruits." DI Bramante's update annoyed me, coaxing a frustrated growl from my throat. I ran the washcloth through the blistering water streaming out from the showerhead and loaded it with shower gel. Wincing the entire time from the temperature I lathered my body up as quickly as possible, running the rag over my scalp and face haphazardly before moving downwards.
My annoyance grew when his next update came. "Thirty seconds, recruits."
I aggressively scrubbed the rest of myself and finished the job before jumping back in front of the scalding spray. Gritting my teeth and growling through the stinging pain I rinsed myself off to the best of my ability before the water flow ceased. "Time's up. Showers are now off. Move out, recruits."
Freshly clean, scrubbed and possibly burned, I filed out of the showers with the rest. Most had been like me, but a few still had soap suds here and there. I grabbed my gear and moved out of the way for the next ten recruits who had taken the initiative and stripped already. They charged past us as my group stood off to the side toweling ourselves off. I could feel the eyes of the rest of the recruits standing in line staring at us. Chancing a look their way I noticed most of them held looks of fear and shock in their eyes, although a few were being pervs.
"Recruits, when you're finished head out and dress in your Military Combat Uniforms and then standby." I sighed at the order, wondering when we were going to get to eat.
As it turns out, it wouldn't be too long. After the last group had finished showering DI Bramante gave us a quick tutorial on how to make our beds and wear our uniforms according to UNSC standard. He then gave us the task of making our beds, getting dressed and cleaning the latrine before we would be taken to breakfast at zero seven thirty.
Now the Military Combat Uniform itself was largely annoying to wear. After I was dressed in the uniform I could feel restricted and heavier. Every step was like moving through thick mud. I knew it was partly because of how tired I was but it was still shocking to realize that clothes could feel like this.
As the platoon began to finish with their uniforms and bunks, the resulting chaos erupting over who would do what was starting. We spent more time bickering and whining than getting the actual duties done. Something that I was sure was going to wind up getting us in more trouble. I had the sinking feeling that was his plan.
Eventually we would learn to work as a team or we would continue to be punished. But it seemed all my platoon could focus on was trying to find out who had used things last or made the biggest mess. Those that tried to impose order were shouted down as not having been put in charge. And a minority whined about cleaning being the job of drones.
Not wanting to incur his wrath anymore, the moment my bunk was made to the best of my ability I ignored the rest and grabbed my hygiene bag to finally brush my teeth.
One look at the restroom and I became despondent. Glancing at my omnitool's chronometer, I had a little over fifteen minutes before our deadline. There was no way I could get this done by myself.
I searched the room and wracked my brain as I brushed my teeth, hoping for inspiration on what I could do to make this easier. I could mop the floor and clean the sinks? Maybe?
Frustration set in and I became increasingly annoyed with my platoon. Shouldn't someone else bother to come and help me? Didn't they get it? We were all going to be screwed if this wasn't done.
Brushing my teeth as quickly as I could without slicing my gums or chipping my teeth with my cision pro, I made the plan to go back out there, grab the supplies and get everyone to help me. Once I had finished, I opened the door and yelled out across the barracks as loudly as I could, "Unless you guys want to get in more trouble someone come help me!"
The platoon froze and stared at me like I had lost my mind. The silence reigned as none of them budged from their positions. Frustrated by their reactions, or the lack of any, I moved quickly to toss my hygiene bag on my bed and then grabbed the cleaning supplies from the storage locker near the restroom doors.
When I had finished, no one had made a move to help. Furious beyond words, I swallowed back a roar in my throat as I marched into the restroom holding the cleaning items. Fucking idiots.
I began mopping the floor with angry and reckless strokes. My arms and legs protested from the exertions I'd endured since arriving here plus the added stiffness and weight of my uniform, but I pushed through it. Nothing but my anger fueled me at this point even though I wanted nothing more than to eat something and go back to bed.
A moment later the door opened and Galen walked in looking sheepish. "Hey. What do you need me to do?"
Frowning, I wondered why he was asking me? I wasn't in charge. This should be common sense. "Just pick something to do."
He looked around helplessly, still standing rooted in the same spot. "I, uh, don't know how to clean anything."
I stopped in my mopping and looked at him incredulously. How do you not know how to clean things?
Just as I was about to sarcastically ask him if he knew how to breathe it occurred to me that he was a duct rat. A homeless charlatan of the Wards. He'd never had a normal life. A home. Parents.
Despite the animosity between us from his antics at the hotel, he had done the right thing that night and helped me with Auggie. And he was here now trying to do the right thing again. He just didn't know how.
Sighing, I continued my mopping and nodded to the cleaners and scrubbing pads on the sink. "Pour some of that stuff on the sink and then use the pad to scrub the sink clean. Use water to rinse it off."
We worked in silence before a few more people walked in. Again, just like Galen, they asked me what needed to be done. Figuring it was easier to assign tasks than have to talk and repeat arguments, I directed them to different sections of the restroom.
We quit with two minutes to spare and although the restroom was hardly spotless, it looked far better than it had before.
At zero seven thirty, DI Bramante marched back into the barracks and directed us to stand by our bunks. Dressed in a fresh uniform, the man looked immaculate. His boots were even polished, which was mind boggling. What was the point of polishing boots if they're meant to get dirty?
One by one he examined our bunks. Those that were unsatisfactory were told to get in the high plank position. By the time he got to Galen and myself, the entire platoon had failed.
One glance at our bunks and he snorted. Not even bothering to address us, he snapped his fingers and then pointed downwards before moving on towards the restrooms.
Dropping to the position, I glanced at Galen and he looked back at me in commiserating frustration. I shrugged my shoulders the best I could in response.
"Unacceptable." Our Drill Instructor had returned from the restroom, shaking his head. He pointed towards the opposite end of the barracks and counted off ten recruits. "Get in there and do the job right this time."
They scrambled to comply with his orders. DI Bramante strolled back in our direction and stood before the two of us. I didn't dare look up but I could feel his eyes on me. After staring at me for several seconds he moved on and I blew a small sigh of relief.
UNSC Training Facility Thirteen, Highland Mountains Military Training Grounds, Vierry Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridani, Orior Cluster; June 26th, 2572 [Standardized Terran Calendar], 1345 [Local Time, Terran Standard]
I didn't think it was actually possible to doze off while standing. Apparently I was wrong.
The midday sun and exhaustion were playing havoc on my ability to stay awake. Not that Reach at midday was very warm. It's warmer relative to Reach at night or in the morning. Well, warmish. Enough that every blink seemed to jump time ahead several seconds leaving me light headed and disoriented.
And who could blame me? After we had cleaned the barracks to our Drill Instructor's satisfaction we had been herded to the mess hall to enjoy a nutritious blend of pastes, bars, and shakes. All scientifically proven to provide everything the human body needed when under the severe stress of military training and operations. Unfortunately, it wasn't everything the human stomach needed to avoid being pissed off during military training and operations. Seriously, who thought chocolate latte flavor really tasted like chalk latte? Or vanilla meant devoid of any and all flavor? I made a quick mental note for future reference that picking a military entree based upon the labeled 'flavors' was pointless because nothing tasted like what they were purported to be.
I'd need it because the logic behind these super foods being a staple of military diets was that they were cheap, easy to prepare and stored almost indefinitely in harsh conditions. All huge positives when you considered that most of us would be stationed places where the UNSC would have difficulty providing us with fresh food or even kitchens. Kind of hard to get groceries when you're on a warship patrolling light years away from any populated center or on the ground of a remote world with little to no infrastructure. So we might as well get used to eating the stuff now, right?
Sandwiched between a breakfast and lunch of this bland food had been a two hour block on the introduction to military life. Which mostly consisted of explaining how our gear was to be maintained and stored in our lockers. It was also further education on just how anal DI Bramante could be. At one point the man literally used his omnitool to scan my socks to measure how tightly wound they were.
So after the platoon had failed in that task, again, and suffered the requisite punishments for failure, again, we were rewarded with a lovely sight seeing tour of the training facility. And by tour, I mean education on military commands, marching and formations that just so happened to take us in circles around the facility. I think the dance lessons Mom and later Abuela subjected me to were less ridiculous than the precise movements the UNSC expected from those that wore the uniform.
So now I was trying not to pass out as we stood outside a training facility next to a giant statue of someone named Preston Cole. Made of marble, the statue portrayed an older man in a military dress uniform standing tall and proud with that stereotypical grim thousand meter stare. The name sounded familiar from history lessons but my sleep deprived mind was having trouble connecting the dots.
DI Bramante emerged from the facility wearing full combat armor and spoke through the voice module of his helmet. "Alright, Third. Enter the facility, put on your earpieces and take a seat. Do not touch a thing."
We complied with the order and felt relief at getting off our feet. The building was another of the droll concrete and metal specials here at the training facility but the real difference was the dividing barrier of safety glass which split the room in two. The portion we were in was a dimly lit classroom with seating facing a large holotank and the more strongly lit half. The other side of the barrier had what looked to be a black safety mat for flooring and a solitary inactive mech wearing standard UNSC combat armor.
We watched as he entered the second half through a door and activated his omnitool to link the comms from his helmet to our earpieces, "This block of instruction will be an introduction into the Multi Threat Combatives Program otherwise known as UNSC Martial Arts or UMA."
I don't know how I had missed it, but alongside his right hip was a pistol which he now pulled out and activated. "Your training with weapons and armor systems does not start for another two weeks but familiarization and basic theory are neeeded to understand why UMA is important." He held the pistol aloft and continued, "First, modern weapons fire small projectiles the size of a small piece of gravel or large grain of sand via electromagnetic mass acceleration."
Holding the pistol with the barrel skywards he gestured with his free hand towards the dummy. "Your basic armor system is attuned to track incoming projectiles moving at speeds which could cause you harm. When it detects one of these projectiles on a trajectory to hit you it creates a small field of increased mass to shield the area of your body expected to be hit. This field robs the projectile of energy and hopefully stops or even deflects it. Observe."
Gripping the pistol with both hands he fired once at the mech and even behind the safety glass two loud cracks were heard. A small blue tinged bolt rocketed forward from the pistol at the mech in the blink of an eye but stopped less than half a meter away as it hit a dark blue field of energy that rippled with gold sparks and shook the mech slightly from the impact.
DI Bramante deactivated the pistol and then stomped his way toward the mech. Once within range he lunged forward while swinging the pistol in a violent downward arc. The pistol whip motion crashed against the helmet clad head of the mech and it toppled over sideways. He removed his helmet and placed the pistol along side his hip where it magnetically clamped into place. Standing victoriously over his vanquished 'foe' he turned and inserted his own earpiece and addressed us. "As you can see the protective field did not stop my melee strike. That is because these systems are meant to be so simple that they are fool proof under intense environmental and combat conditions."
With a tap of his omnitool a holotank in the center of the classroom sprang to life, displaying a chest plate similar to the one DI Bramante and the mech wore. Small sensors in the armor were highlighted and zoomed in on as he continued his instruction, "A mass accelerated projectile moves fast enough that at close ranges even a VI can not categorize and react to threats quick enough. So the system is designed to respond to threats moving in excess of seven hundred meters per second. If it tried to react to all threats the system would be activating constantly for trivial matters and insignificant things and that would not be beneficial. It would drain the power supply and make your job a whole lot more difficult. And that, recruits, is where this program comes into play."
"Melee strikes with your body or hand held weapons exploit a necessary weakness with kinetic barriers but there is a secondary foe." Quickly rapping his knuckles on the chest plate to emphasize his point, he continued, "This armor system is the last line of defense. It protects the wearer from the majority of impact once the kinetic barrier does it's job robbing a projectile of kinetic energy. But should your kinetic barrier fail the armor is built to withstand several direct hits from mass accelerated projectiles at full strength without allowing penetration. Your hardest punch or kick will not do much to break it."
DI Bramante walked back into the classroom and stared us down silently for a moment. "But that does not mean that direct hits from a mass accelerated projectile at full strength do not hurt. They do. A lot. Only that the armor will protect you from penetration. So if you can't break the armor, then you will break the person inside of it. If you can't break their nose or knock out their teeth, then snap their neck. If you can't break their ribs, then twist their arm out of their socket. If you can't snap their leg, then shatter their fucking knee." The venom and anger in his voice rose with each explanation, glaring at us as if he wanted to do just that to each and every one of us. "Now you understand the purpose of this program. Combat is fast and brutal and won by the person most willing to inflict harm on their opponent."
Turning to face the holotank, he activated his omnitool and life sized images of various races appeared. Most of them I recognized. Then there were the ones that were a bit more obscure. The Covenant races I assumed.
"Our race has had thousands of years and plenty of reasons to develop ways to slap the taste out of each others mouth and we've used it well. There are dozens of martial arts forms native to our people and the UNSC has taken the best of these concepts and training to incorporate into the program. But your fellow humans are not the only threat you'll face in your career." His glare intensified with each image, like he was reliving lingering memories about how each race had offended him in some way. "It can not be stressed enough, recruits, that xenos are not humans. It might make you feel all tingly inside to hold hands and treat everyone like equals, but in combat that's a quick way to get yourself and your fellow UNSC personnel killed. Each species has a different physiology that requires you fight them a certain way. Strengths to watch out for. Weaknesses to exploit."
He glanced back at us and asked, "Any questions so far, recruits?"
There was an uneasy silence as most of the platoon was probably like myself. Too afraid to draw attention or ask a question that might end up triggering some form of punishment. Or so I thought.
A recruited seated a dozen or so spaces away from me raised his hand to speak. Drill Instructor Bramante raised an incredulous eyebrow until the recruit realized we had just been taught to stand to be recognized this morning. He quickly, and sheepishly, stood and addressed our instructor. "We're going to be taught to fight all species, Drill Instructor?"
Bramante snorted and waved the recruit off, who quickly sat down. "Your training is not going to be complete during UCMT. It will be a career long process. Every unit is required to provide training for appropriate levels. Some of you might be required to show higher levels of proficiency to obtain and maintain your MVC qualifications."
I gulped at that tidbit of information. Chances are light infantry probably required you to be able to wrestle a krogan into submission.
My internal musing must have been transmitted to our instructor's mind, because he punched a few commands into his omnitool and three life sized images locked into place.
A krogan, a sangheili and a jiralhanae. Each monstrosity was a mass of muscle and fury that dwarfed any human.
DI Bramante stared at the holodisplay with pure hatred, "We'll teach you how to fight them, recruit. But let me save you some time and effort. If you ever find yourself backed into a corner with no other option but to get into a fist fight with one of these bastards..." He trailed off and shook his head, looking back at the recruit who had asked the question and replying blandly, "Well, good fucking luck. Make peace with whatever god you believe in and at least try and take the son of a bitch with you."
Now if that didn't hammer home the reality of what we were here to train for, then nothing would. I briefly had a flashback to the asari and batarians on Mindoir. Just how lucky had Ari and I been? By all means they should have shredded us to pieces. And now? I was going to be trained to fight against something like this? Next to these things, Pavlo seemed like a runt and I had only gotten by with that because I used my biotics.
"On your feet. We got about two or three more hours to get you acquainted with the basics of slapping the shit out of someone. Pair up and head inside the room."
I stood and looked around, trying to gauge who would not kill me. Galen caught my eye and shrugged. We filed in with the rest of the platoon and stood side by side awaiting further instructions. In the interim I tried to assess his potential but realized I really knew nothing about this subject. He was a bit shorter than me, but looked sturdy. Scrappy. Wiry. Probably fought frequently as a duct rat, which made me want to facepalm at my brilliant idea to pair up with him.
"Alright, first technique is the most common and basic. A lot of times you're going to be in close quarters. Ships, stations, facilities, buildings, they're not exactly the roomiest. You're armed with your weapon and someone ambushes you by grappling. You want to get out of grappling range and knock your opponent off balance, possibly to the floor, so you can use your weapon." He walked us through a demonstration on the holodisplay of two figures in close range grappling when one knocks the other off balance to the floor before giving us our orders. "You and your partner engage in a clinch like the demonstration shows and begin working on knocking each other down. Proceed."
Galen and I looked at each other apprehensively and awkwardly followed instructions. After a minute or two of futile wrestling, it was obvious neither of us seemed to have the strength or skill to perform the maneuver, but a quick glance around showed that no one else did either. A moment later I regretted my need to observe my surroundings as Galen used my distraction to sneak his right leg behind both of mine and tripped me as the demonstration had shown.
I slammed down on the mat hard. Dazed and sleepy, I contemplated just giving up and resting here for a moment. Time must have been going faster than I had thought, because in an instant DI Bramante was hovering over me. He scanned me with his omnitool and when it was finished his face contorted into a less than pleased snarl. "Well, you just going to lay there and take a nap, recruit? Or are you going to get up and make him pay for what he did?"
Well, to be perfectly honest, the first option sounded better. But I don't think it would have turned out like I hoped, so I took a deep breath and stood. Dusting myself off, I looked at Galen who was nervous at having the Drill Instructor so near. I glanced back at Bramante and he leaned in, grabbing me by the collar of my uniform and causing me to flinch, "If he knocks you down again, I am going to make you wish you were never born, Recruit Elvis."
At my fearful nod he released me and backed away. I gave a nervous glance his way and tried to fired myself up to avoid failing. Lunging at Galen, I took him by surprise and nearly had him, until he corrected his positioning. Using my over leveraged grasp he managed to lower his body and topple me over easily.
Falling down face first into the mat, I growled and punched it in frustration. I didn't even need to roll over to look and see that I was in trouble. And we still had two or three more hours to go. Lucky. Fucking. Me.
UNSC Training Facility Thirteen, Highland Mountains Military Training Grounds, Vierry Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridani, Orior Cluster; June 22nd, 2572 [Standardized Terran Calendar], 1832 [Local Time, Terran Standard]
I stood outside the mess hall exhausted and sore beyond belief awaiting even more training, this time by myself. We had wrapped up our first UMA session and gone back to marching and formation drills, which was infinitely more fun with all the neat sprains and bruises we were sporting, followed by yet another meal of not actually food.
Drill Instructor Bramante hadn't been playing when he said he would make me regret being born. It seemed like every time we had a moment to pause or wait, he had me do so by performing some exercise. Granted, I wasn't alone. There were several others who managed to displease him during the hand to hand training, but he seemed to have a fascination with me.
Galen had tried apologizing to me but I had shrugged him off. It wasn't really his fault. I just sucked at fighting.
And now I was going to have an additional session of training with First Sergeant Yilmaz. Joy.
At first I had figured this was an extension of my punishment but it turns out it was worse than that. I was the only biotic in my platoon, and every evening I was going to be joining the other biotics in the company so that we could receive additional instruction from a qualified instructor.
Eventually I was joined by a girl named Moy and a guy named Walma. So three total out of two hundred. I knew biotics were rare, but this was shocking. Or, at least, it would have been shocking if I had the energy to focus enough to be shocked. Maybe mildly shocked. Mocked? Yeah, that works. I was being mocked.
We stood in silence for another ten minutes allowing my mind to drift while I stared out across the field. It was about this time yesterday that I had arrived and after a full day I could safely say I would never voluntarily visit. I'm sure the rest of Reach was an absolutely lovely place but after this my memories would be forever tainted by cold and bitterness.
First Sergeant Yilmaz came strolling our direction carrying a small case under his left arm. He stared at the three of us before quickly giving us commands to march towards the sand pits near our company building.
When we reached them he had us spread out in a line while he opened the case. He produced three small orbs and placed them in the sand about ten meters away from each of us. "I am going to assume each of you can at least create a mass reduction field. I want you to make these drones float at about hip height and hold them there for five seconds."
I nodded to myself. That was simple enough, even in my weakened state I could easily do that. I focused and drew a breath in through my nose as I stared at the orb. Reaching out with my right hand, palm facing upward I slowly curled my fingers. The hum of a static electricity tingle surged through my body as a dark blue corona of energy engulfed me. The drone rose quickly and exceeded the desired height so I drew back on the field a bit, causing the drone to sink back to hip height.
Idly I noticed the hum of energy in the air as the other two did the same but I had learned my lesson well earlier today. No distractions.
Just as I was starting to feel the strain, First Sergeant Yilmaz directed us to release the fields. I did so gladly, shaking my arms and rolling my neck as the residual tingles remained in my body.
Examining each of us he nodded and then walked back to the drones. One by one he picked them up and used his omnitool to activate them, where they were covered in a soft bluish glow and hovered in air. "Your training for tonight is to try and hit the drone with a mass reduction field."
I frowned. Wasn't that what we just did? What more did he need to see or teach us?
Once out of the line of fire, he pressed a command into his omnitool and the drones began zipping around erratically.
Oh. Moving targets. Fuck my life.
Yet again I blocked out everything as I focused and drew a deep breath through my nose. My eyes tracked the drone flying and I began estimating the distance and placement of my field. Just as I was raising my hand to unleash my biotics, a booming voice thundered from behind us. "You going to wait for an invitation, recruits?"
I jumped to the side in fright, my concentration lost. The other recruits did the same. First Sergeant Yilmaz chuckled darkly as he strolled behind us. We all craned our heads to track his movements. His pace was leisurely, with his hands behind his back. Once at the far end he turned back to explain his actions. "Successful use of biotics in combat relies upon being able to focus on your surroundings while summoning your gifts. The enemy is not going to wait so you can concentrate and go through all the nifty exercises you were taught. They won't hold still so you can measure and aim your attacks. They won't stop attacking so you can stand out in the open. And you're going to need to be able to accurately call on your gifts when you're scared, stressed, tired, bleeding, in pain, and lives are on the line."
His face took on the dark and brooding look that he normally wore, "You're going to have to learn how to quickly use your biotics under duress. The simplest method is through repetition under less than favorable conditions. This is your first full day on Reach so the three of you are dog tired from the shock of the training regimen and lack of adjustment to local time. Perfect conditions to simulate being on another planet and having fought all day. So tonight you will focus on hitting that moving drone with as many mass reduction fields as you can while I try my best to break your concentration."
We stared at him in utter disbelief. He couldn't be serious. I'd be lucky to hit it once under those conditions.
His glare and growled command said otherwise. "You're wasting time staring at me. Proceed, recruits."
I turned to focus on the drone and went through my exercises quickly, trying to block out the talking and sudden loud noises. I raised my arm and quickly flexed my fingers, but to no avail. Not even a slight tingle.
Frustrated I did it again. I blocked out my irritation and ran through my exercise quietly but quickly and managed a weak field that completely missed the drone. I could swear that it zoomed right back to the place I had been aiming at like it was teasing me.
"Oh, gotta be faster than that, recruit."
I mumbled under my breath about assholes that never shut up and tried again. Another miss.
We kept going as the sun slowly started to set but the bluish glow of the drones and the facility lighting was enough to go by. I tried over and over but could never quite hit the damn thing. My exhaustion forgotten I was being driven by pure rage towards the end. I'm not sure how long we were out there, but I was drenched in sweat and panting but I had managed to completely block everything out. Now I just didn't seem to have the timing or energy to successfully nail the little ball of circuits.
"Hold your fire, recruits." First Sergeant Yilmaz's command pierced through my fury and I slowly calmed down. Nothing was going right. As he deactivated the drones I leaned forward with my hands on my knees as the dizzyness and headrush from using my biotics so intensely in a short period of time caught up to me. I stared at the sand below me, sweat trickling down my brow and nose, stinging my eyes and coating my lips where it tasted bitter and salty. I drew in deep breaths to calm my pounding heart and ease the nausea I was feeling, all the while my self loathing and disappointment set in.
Why couldn't I do anything right? Was I destined to be a fuck up at this too?
I vaguely recalled my idiotic plans for joining. Take time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. See the galaxy. I snorted in derision as I blinked back tears. What a fucking idiot.
Once he had collected the drones, Yilmaz scanned us for neural problems and produced three energy bars. "Eat up. You just burned through a lot of calories. I don't want you passing out tomorrow morning during PT."
Unwrapping the bar, I tore a chunk off and popped it into my mouth. It tasted disgusting, but my stomach was starting to rumble and I just wanted this day to end. Chewing quickly I demolished the rest of the bar in two more pieces, stuffing the wrapper into the pocket of my MCU trousers.
He organized us into a small file and we jogged back to the company building. Before he dismissed us he paused, reaching into his collar and removing his dog tags from around his neck in order to pass on one last word of advice, "Let me see your dog tags." We pulled out our own to his approval. He handled one of his tags and touched it against the metal frame of the door leading to the offices for the company staff. "You can use your dog tags to discharge your static charge. I don't want to hear about you hurting yourself or someone else because you forgot."
Upon being dismissed I trudged my way around the building and looked out across the darkened field and black wood line lit with the periodic green and pink hues of the aurora in the sky. Up in the night sky the twin moons of Reach shined, one larger than the other. Beyond that the stars of the galaxy twinkled brightly behind colorful light show. Even as tired as I was I brought out my omnitool and activated the star map function so I could get a better idea of what I was looking at.
Keying in Malawi I was rewarded with the location of my home star system in the night sky, even it if was far too faint to be seen with just my eyes alone. I stared up in it's direction and sighed.
What had I been thinking joining the UNSC? I wasn't cut out for this shit.
Breaking through my negative thoughts I continued my labored journey up the stairs as the full toll of my biotic training session began to take effect. I was barely able to shuffle and drag my feet forward to the doors of the barracks.
Shower. Shower and sleep. That's all I wanted. I could put up with anything else they wanted to throw at me so long as I got those.
Just as I was about to activate the door mechanism I paused, remembering the First Sergeant's advice. Pulling out my dog tags I ran them across the metal railing of the staircase to release the excess static charge I had built up with a quick snap and sizzle.
Exhausted but inordinately pleased with myself for finally getting something right today I smiled and proceeded to swipe my hand over the haptic door lock.
What I was greeted with wiped that smile right off my face and nearly caused me to drop my dog tags.
My eyes blinked rapidly from the the bright lights of the barracks as I took in the sight of my entire platoon on their backs doing crunches while DI Bramante paced the length of the room. Everyone froze upon seeing me, and I realized how pathetic I must look. Worn out, covered in sweat, and with a look of dismayed shock on my face.
Bramante was the first to snap out of his stupor and greeted me with an evil smile, "Recruit Elvis! Right on time, shitbrick. Come on in and shut the door. We're just getting in a little bit of ab work before the night is through."
Codex Entry: Reach
The human colony of Reach is the primary military and industrial hub for the Systems Alliance and the fourth largest by population with roughly seven hundred million. Located within the Epsilon Eridani system of the Orior Cluster, close proximity to the human homeworld of Earth has helped create the robust defense, aerospace, and resource extraction industries that make it the most important colony of the human race.
For a young planet, at less than one billion [Terran] years, Reach is remarkably geologically stable and possesses an extensive biodiversity in native ecosystems. Humans have found it to have comparable attributes to Earth, such as a day length of [Terran Translation: 27 Terran hours], orbital period of [Terran Translation: 438.75 Terran days; 390 Local days], gravitational pull of [Terran Translation: 1.08 g], and an average surface temperature of [Terran Translation: 8 degrees Celsius]. Topography is dominated by large oceans surrounding four continents, eight large islands, and year round ice sheets at both poles. A strong magnetic field protect the planet from it's proximity to Epsilon Eridani, which also helps create frequent and powerful aurora phenomena. It possesses two natural satellites, Csodazarvas and Turul, creating strong tidal cycles. A series of meteor impact craters dating back to over two hundred million [Terran] years ago dot the surface of the planet forming large seas and natural bays.
The planets of Epsilon Eridani were well known to human astronomers prior to the discovery of slipspace and mass effect physics, making the system a top candidate for the first round of interstellar exploration in 2296 [Terran Standard Calendar] led by human icon Admiral Jon Grissom. What he and his crew found was a habitable planet with comparable characteristics to Earth that required minimal terraforming in addition to extensive sources of titanium, aluminum, selenium, and bauxite found throughout the system. The real surprise was the discovery of the large extrasolar caputure asteroid Vadleany in the outer dust cloud that contained a significant amount of Element Zero. After the first wave of expeditions and surveys were concluded the UEG placed Epsilon Eridani at the top of the list for the first ever human interstellar colonization effort as the resources of the system would expedite future human colonial efforts
By 2309 [Terran Standard Calendar] the UEG had authorized the first wave of development in the system starting with early terraforming and colonial planning teams being sent to Reach. Meanwhile resource extraction in the system began in earnest as it was opened to private industry. The third segment of this first wave was the development of orbital infrastructure above Reach in order to facilitate the creation of shipyards to produce the next generation vessels for the UNSC and commercial interstellar shipping. Additionally a great deal of the material mined and refined was shipped to the Arcturus system to aid in the construction of Arcturus Station which was being build concurrently to the colonization of Reach. By 2362 [Terran Standard Calendar] the terraforming and construction of infrastructure for Reach had concluded and opened the door for the second wave of colonists, most of which came from the eastern provinces of the European Union.
The comparable conditions of Reach made it a natural fit for those permanent settlers. Unfortunately, human colonization has proven to be taxing and threatening to native lifeforms. The terraforming project created a drastic change that much of the natural biodiversity of the planet struggled to adapt to in such a short period. Colonists also introduced many species native to Earth for food and landscaping creating some invasive populations.
The Federation of Reach Territories is the recognized national government for the planet, overseeing six territories. New Alexandria, located in the Viery Territory, is the capital of the nation and colony as well as being one of the largest cities in all of Systems Alliance Space. Because of the resource extraction, military hub, and major shipyards on the surface and in orbit, the Epsilon Eridani system has one of the most active SSEEP [Slipstream Exit Entry Point] transfer rates in Systems Alliance space, keeping pace with the Arcuturs and Sol SSEEP transfer rates. The primary economy is still driven by space vessel construction and repair or resource extraction operations, most of which are conducted on the moons of the gas giant Fene. The mature population centers on the colony have typical service and financial industries, but a large portion of the population still lives in smaller and remote farming, mining, and livestock communities.
Often referred to as the unofficial home of the UNSC, Reach and the entire Epsilon Eridani system has a significant military presence. Today the colony boasts the largest concentration of human military forces outside of the Sol system. Many former military personnel settle down on Reach after leaving service and put their experience to work in the local defense industries. Because of this the colony enjoys a mutually beneficial relationship with the UNSC as the veterans and active duty military personnel contribute greatly to the economy. An orbital defense grid consisting of twenty four orbital defense platforms and two hundred planetary defense cannons protect the planet.
The age of the colony and increased military presence contribute to make politics on Reach more aligned with Earth, giving way to the prevailing inner colony versus outer colony mentality of human political activity. During both Insurrection Wars Reach managed to avoid any large scale insurrections, but did not come away unscathed with notable instances such as the bombing of the luxury space liner National Holiday in orbit. As of late, insurrectionist activity in system has been on the rise from historical levels. This is speculated to be attributed to Harvest refugees disgruntled with the Systems Alliance. Many of these refugees have settled down in the remote communities.
The future of the system looks to be set as experts believe the colony of Reach, barring unexpected events or technological breakthroughs, has neared the extent of it's potential for growth. Currently the largest project is the continued work towards reconstituting military units and vehicles lost during the Harvest Campaign for assignment to either the Maroon Sea or Artemis Tau clusters.
Codex Entry: Combatives
Most known species of sapients have developed specialized systems of unarmed and armed melee combat. These systems are typically based around schools of thought regarding how best to approach conflict and defense objectives. Due to reasons pertaining to social structure and organization some species develop complex systems with multiple permutations while others do not.
Practitioners use all available movement, limbs, and weapons to strike, grapple, lock, and incapacitate single or multiple opponents. There is a prevailing tendency to base forms around postures and movements that mimic native life forms or natural phenomena. These forms make great use of species specific physiological traits to maximize efficiency in delivering quick and powerful attacks, evading incoming blows or holds, and minimizing exertion. Weapons training is often incorporated into these combat systems as education in their use and defense against a wielding opponent. A majority of schools combine physical training regimens, philosophy education, theological instruction, and self mastery with combat education to encompass a full spectrum of growth in pupils and raise combat preparedness.
Most systems were solidified into their present configuration prior to their interstellar phase of development. Over generations these codified systems have gained an extensive understanding of the physiology of the species in order to best combat their own kind. This has proven to be difficult to transfer into melee combat with other species despite the prevailing physiological similarities in sapient beings. Small differences such as mass, body composition, joint structure, flexibility, speed, and strength make a large portion of the teachings and abilities of the codified forms unsuitable and ineffective against xeno opponents.
This revelation leads to an overhaul that incorporate tactics and understanding from all systems that would best utilize species capabilities in effectively combating xeno opponents. Since most species are highly organized and unified in reaching the interstellar phase of development, the revised and unified system is disseminated as a single combat system, or combatives, for the entire race and typically taught to military, law enforcement, and security personnel. The concepts of the system are typically taught with multiple variations for the same attacks and counters that are to be employed when facing opponents of different species.
A unique facet of this interstellar phase of development for combatives is the incorporation of biotic phenomena. The population of biotics for a given species is generally small due to the low levels of exposure and effects of element zero toxicity. This has lead to the asari, as the only naturally occurring biotic race, to be the masters at incorporating biotics into combatives. A further obstacle is the social perception of biotics in races outside of the asari, which prevents dedicated study into maximizing non asari biotic potential in combat. Biotics of other races are instead forced to adapt asari specific practices to their own racial combatives, often with substandard results in comparison to their asari peers.
Mass effect technology has also shaped the teaching and usage of combatives in the interstellar phase. Close quarters combat exploits the theory and use of light and resilient materials in personal armor defense systems and kinetic barrier shielding. Most competent military educations teach students on how to properly exploit these weaknesses and more importantly how to avoid an opponent attempting to do the same.
Codex Entry: Personal Armor Defense Systems
A premium is placed on comprehensive defenses and dynamic services for a galactic civilization that stretches across the stars. Whether its the labors and difficulties of traversing vacuum and extreme terrain across the galaxy or the efficiency and lethality of modern combat, this need is fulfilled by personal armor defense systems, or PADS. Manufacturers create competitive designs and proprietary technology for these armors in order to provide a large assortment of baseline models and modular packages to configure an individual PADS to any needs or budget.
After the Krogan Rebellion the Citadel Council instituted a rating scheme for PADS and made it law that all civilian models sold to the public be verified for quality and capability accordingly. This rating scheme has proven to be so well received that it has become the standard for rating military grade PADS and PADS created and sold outside of Citadel Space. It bases scores and classifications on: Racial specialization; Weight class of the armor; Vacuum seal rating; Armor strength; Kinetic barrier shielding class; Physical enhancement; Sensory enhancement; Communications suites; And electronic defense suites. A secondary set of scores pertain to environmental ratings against: Atmospheric pressure; Biological hazards; Chemical corrosion; Nanite susceptibility; Radiological shielding; And extreme temperature tolerance.
Terrestrial PADS, or Planetside, designs are the simplest and most common form found. Built for rapid wear and removal with minimal options these armor suites provide basic passive enhancement, active defenses, and no environmental protection limiting their use to hospitable environments. This series of armor is the most economical and sensible option for private workforces, law enforcement, private security, and military forces on light planetside duty.
Atmospheric/Exoatmospheric PADS, or A/X and VacSuit, are meant for vacuum or extremely hostile environment operations. This series of armor suites are common among military forces and civilian professions in orbit or uninhabitable terrain. They provide basic passive enhancement, active defenses, and a high rating of environmental protection. The price of these more robust defenses makes the armor a necessary but cost prohibitive part of work beyond the safety of habitable planets.
Power Armors PADS are somewhat of a misnomer as all PADS are powered and enhance the user in many ways. What distinguishes these armor suites is their active enhancement to facilitate increased motive power and allow the armor to be more heavily equipped. Because of this Power Armor PADS also provide some of the highest levels of active defenses and environmental protection. What prevents their widespread use is the high cost of production, poor return on that investment over other vehicles and systems, and limitations on the extent to which wearers can be enhanced.
All PADS are formed around advanced VI and sensor suites built into layers of gear and armor that provide the wearer with insulation, protection, and support. These layers are made to passively and actively interact with the wearer, VI systems and each other to maximize mobility and extend function while providing excellent protection.
An undersuit worn directly over the flesh is the base layer to all PADS. It serves to regulate the basic environmental needs of a wearer, provide information on the health and status of the wearer for personal or networked observation, and enhance the capabilities of the wearer. In PADS that use passive enhancement it achieves this by providing support for the structure of the body to minimize the strain of movement and impact. In Power Armor PADS that use active enhancement this layer is thicker and helps to both provide greater enhancement and protect the wearer from the stress of that enhancement.
The intermediate layer varies by design, but most models are made of light weight and durable textiles that are resistant to punctures and tears. Further reinforcing these textiles are interwoven layers of ceramics and polymers to provide insulation against the environment and some ballistic and kinetic impact protection. Law enforcement, military, or workplace uniforms are typically made to have dual purpose as stand alone uniforms or serve as this layer in Terrestrial models. Atmospheric/Exoatmospheric and Power Armor models are thicker sealed environmental uniforms or 'skins'. These vacuum rated uniforms are thicker to accommodate greater reinforcement to ensure environmental integrity as well as a greater prevalence of internal and integral sensory and feedback systems controlled by dedicated VIs.
The iconic armor plating is the outer layer of a PADS system, other wise known as the hard suit. Aside from obvious physical protection they provide, the armor plates houses a majority of the subsystems for the suit. PADS armor consists of a reinforced helm and rigid plates that interlock to cover the body while still not infringing upon mobility and flexibility. Heavier and more sophisticated PADS, particularly Power Armors, feature actuated joints and a light exoskeleton. A power cell housing located on the back is the standard source of power for the entire PADS, but more exotic and expensive options exist. The light weight plates are capable of withstanding and absorbing high energy kinetic impacts and extreme temperatures with minimal damage. Housed within the plating are an array of sophisticated sensors to aid the wearer in detection, navigation, and medical monitoring. A kinetic barrier generation system provides primary active reflexive defense.
Designs for the plating, intermediate layer, undersuit, and subsystems vary wildly between races and manufacturers, and even then personal touches like paint jobs, decals, and customization are part of the PADS experience. The armor itself is typically modular, with the ability to exchange parts with those from a different or newer PADS model provided the manufacturer is the same or the armor is built on a universal design.
The modular nature of PADS allows for additional options offered by manufacturers as either standard with delivery or after market customization and refurbishing kits. Common option systems include redundant kinetic barriers, active camouflage, specialized VI and database suites, thruster packs, medical attention suites, tactical packages, electronic warfare suites, and advanced fabrication suites.
