{{Back with more writing, that I am.
I should have another chapter of Weapon of War done soon as well, and updated quickly after this.
I've got lots of time, so I may update more often. But, don't count on it.
I'm erratic.}}
Dirandau sat on the floor, shining his boots.
Little circles...little circles...
Aya, but his arm was tired! But, this was the only way. At least, that's what everyone else said. It didn't seem to work for him. He could never get them to shine well enough.
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He dipped the cloth in water, and started on his task again. He wouldn't stop until they were perfect.
.
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Today was a lucky day. They had all received a bit of free time, thanks to their accolades in a recent test. Their DC was pleased by the fact that they had defeated another unit.
Some fooled around, fighting eachother. Others talked. And then there were the practical jokers.
The place was filled with a generally jovial attitude. But Dirandau took no notice. He just kept working.
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Cliet, who was still quite miffed about his EMI session, approached him.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Dirandau looks up, blinking.
".....shining my boots."
"No, I don't mean that! Aya, you're so thickheaded."
Dirandau looked down at the floor, knowing it was true. Everyone had spent the last week convincing him of that
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Cliet rolled his eyes, and decides to grace the poor dumb recruit with enlightenment.
"I meant what are you doing there? You're in front of my locker. I need to get something."
"Oh!" Dirandau exclaimed as he scooted over. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be in the way."
He smiled amiably, reminiscent of a customer sales representative. He was always trying to get along with everyone. He owed it to them to be nice, since they were at least tolerating him.
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Cliet grabbed a pair of skivvies.
"Doesn't matter if you mean to be or not. The truth is, you're always in everybody's way."
Dirandau lowered his head.
"I..I'm sorry...."
Cliet leaned close to him. Uncomfortably close.
"Yes, you are."
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Dilandau's hair was ever-so-gently hanging down in front of his face. He was thankful that at the moment it was longer than regulations allowed, because it hid his eyes.
"I don't mean to be," he whispered, almost inaudibly.
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"Aya, you're so hopeless! Really."
Cliet continued on in that vein, rambling about Dirandau's ineptness. Dirandau kept sinking closer and closer to the floor, as if he had hope that he could sink down into it. Every word was striking close to home, to his heart.
"And I hope they start kicking out those that don't belong soon. You're the first to go, I'd wager."
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That sentence just about killed Dirandau. They had been warned that it was nearing the time when the DCs would begin slimming down the roster. Anyone chosen who would not be staying was to be sent back in training. And, they would lose their prospective rating. They wouldn't be a soldier when they got out. They would be stuck working as a serviceman. And that was practically slavery, and a great dishonor.
Servicemen were those that did everything from taking out the trash to working in the kitchens. The better off in their group worked on guymelefs and other such machinery, but it took years to be able to get that high. It was a depressing life, one that destroyed the heart of anyone forced to live it.
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Dirandau had been working extra hard, to ensure that he'd have a chance of staying in....but, no. He was just as bad as before. And it seemed that the more he tried, the worse he was.
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"Why don't you just kill yourself and get it over with?"
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"That's more than enough, Cliet!" Gatty broke in. "How dare you say something like that? How dare you?"
Gatty was absolutely furious. It was such hard work trying to make sure everyone was surviving. And Cliet seemed dead-set on making life difficult for everyone.
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"I dare because it ought to be said."
Gatty knifehanded Cliet in the throat, which sent the boy back. He clutched his neck, unable to breathe properly for the moment.
"And it ought to be said that if I hear anything else like that from you, I'm going to pound the living daylights out of you. And then I'll turn you in, and let them take care of you. Understand?"
Cliet managed to cough out a yes, and walked away. One thing he had learned was that when Gatty was defending someone else, he would become very insistent. And Gatty was oh-so-much stronger than everyone else. It was better to wait until Gatty's mindset had changed, and he was easier to deal with.
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Gatty turned his attention away from Cliet, and didn't give him another thought. He had mastered the technique of switching gears, thus enabling him to act without being plagued by a thousand other problems all at once. It allowed him to survive without losing his sanity.
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"Hey Dilly, I got some extra time now. Want to do some training?"
Gatty was determined to help Dirandau improve. It was such a sad thing. Dirandau had a great amount of potential, moreso than anyone could tell from the surface. And he would be doing well, but there always seemed to be something stopping him. It was as if he couldn't let himself succeed, like it was a sin or physically impossible.
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"It's pointless," Dirandau said. "This stuff...I can't do it...I can't. It never changes."
"You can. Just keep at it. If you can't do it, try harder."
"I do. I work as hard as I can. It's not enough. It's...it's just me, though. I don't know what it is, but there's something wrong with me..."
Gatty rubbed his forehead. He liked Dirandau, he really did. But dealing with his self-deprication and paranoia was emotionally draining.
"You...are...not...so...damned...hopeless."
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Dirandau blinked, and stared at Gatty. Gatty was beginning to sound angry at him. Gatty saw that look, and forced himself to calm down.
"Let's just work on something, okay? You didn't do too well on that last bunk drill. Let's work on it together, okay?"
Dirandau nodded. He dared not disagree with Gatty at the moment, the only person who didn't completely dissapprove of him.
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That last drill was murder. The DC had come in the middle of the night, because he couldn't sleep and wanted something to do.
There were several failures, due to the tired state of the young recruits.
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When he got to Dirandau's rack, he took one look, then started in on his bunkmate.
"WHy didn't you help him?"
"It's against the rules to do so, sir."
"So? That doesn't explain why you neglected your teammate."
"....It's illegal to help a teammate out in a drill, sir."
"You should have done it anyway!! You are my Ricky Desperados! If I tell you to do something, you will find a way. Now, why didn't you help him?"
"He didn't ask me to, sir."
"So if he's lying on a battlefield, dying, you're not going to wrap his wounds unless he asks you to?"
The recruit stammered out something that sounded like an attempt to answer. But he couldn't think of a good reply. The DC decided to go easy on him by not forcing him to continue making up answers.
He walked up to the bunk, and ripped everything off of the other recruit's bunk. Which was a shame, because his was perfect.
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Dirandau was mortified. Yet another person was taking the brunt of his punishment. Being responsible for so much pain given to his teammates...it was destroying him mentally.
"You..you're my little wounded incapable, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir," he said, his voice quavering.
"Oh, great. You going to cry? I hear you do that a lot. You'd better not let me catch you crying. Ever. Understood."
"Yes, sir."
"I'd sleep lightly if I were you. Because I doubt your teammates are going to take this much longer. And I doubt your friend here is going to appreciate what he's receiving..."
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After that, he'd ordered Gatty to drop, and forced him to do push-ups for two hours. To add to that, every time the DC came into a space in which Gatty was working for the next week, Gatty was to give him 200 push-ups then as well. And if he failed to notice the DC's presence, that was an extra 100.
"You're going to help push him to succeed, or else you will push yourself up until you die."
Gatty took all this with a thousand yard stare, a blank look on his face. He'd deal with it...he wasn't drained yet. He still had more.
"You can't hurt me..." ran over and over in his head.
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When the DC had walked away, Dirandau stole a glance at his bunkmate, who was now seething with anger.
"Not again! This is just flipping fantastic."
It made Dirandau's heart sink. And people wondered why he was so quick to apologize profusely about anything, no matter how menial. And why he was always mired down in details and work. He had racked up a debt to everyone else. He refused to let it go unpaid. He refused to have his name steeped in negativity. But it seemed so impossible to dig himself out of that.
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Dirandau walked to the front of his bunk, and stood at attention. Gatty watched the clock.
"You have twenty seconds to strip your rack. Ready...begin."
Stripping was the easy part. All you had to do was rip off your sheets and pillow case, and throw them in the center of the mattress. Fairly well impossible to screw up.
Gatty looked it over.
"Well...you...uh....almost got it. Just remember that your matress has to be pushed all the way to the front. Like this."
And he fixes the problem.
"Not too bad, though. It'll pass."
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He looked at the clock again.
"You have ten minutes to remake your rack. Begin."
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Dirandau worked as quickly as he possibly could, but that did no good. He became mired down in the intricate little details, the ones that would stay imperfect no matter how long you worked on them.
On each corner of a rack, the corners of the sheets are to be tucked into 'Forty-Fives." A straight diagonal line, which was supposed to be at an exact 45 degree angle. It wasn't impossible, but it was difficult to master.
Dirandau couldn't get them right. He did t hem, undid them, re-did them, and undid them again. All about twenty times each. It was a bit painful for Gatty to watch him struggling so, needlessly. The poor kid...he wanted so badly to be perfect. Why didn't he realize that no one ever could be?
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"Time!"
Dirandau dashed back in front of his rack, at attention again. According to the rules, he should have been there before the time ended. But, Gatty decided to let it slide this time.
He rubbed his forehead.
"Do you want me to bother looking it over for points, or shall we just skip ahead to fixing what's wrong?"
Dirandau had a glare on his face, angry at his own faults.
"Let's just get it over with."
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"Your forty-fives...aya, Dilly....! You ought to know how to make these by now. We've done them about thirty times."
Dirandau cringed.
"I haven't. I've only done them about five."
"Oh....that's right....you're always at medical when we do training. I...I'm sorry. I'll show you how, okay? And next time you don't understand how to do something, just come and tell me."
The DC was still annoyed about the LLD status Dirandau had received. He'd make Dirandau pay, one way or another. And, if that way could only be acheived by skimping on his training, then so be it. Nearly every time training came up, he sent Dirandau to medical, and told him he'd just have to make it up later.
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"Have you even been instructed on how to fold your clothes yet?"
"A few times..."
"Do you remember any of it?"
Dirandau sighed.
"I remember that the DC got mad as hell because I didn't follow instructions correctly."
"What instructions?"
"Fold right over left; fold to your left, fold to your right...."
"....what don't you understand about it?"
Gatty couldn't help looking at him incredulously. He was hoping, absolutely hoping that it wasn't what he thought it was.
"Uh...Dilly....hold up your left hand for me."
And Dirandau refused to do so.
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Gatty gripped his forehead tightly, his face scrunched up.
"How can he not know this?" he pondered.
"Okay, on that subject, I have to ask...you still have trouble telling time?"
"....No...."
"You're lying. Come on, I'm only trying to help. If you don't tell me what you're having trouble with, how can I do that?"
"It's only when I have to keep converting from civilian to military, and back again...I swear that's the only problem."
"Alright then, what's the clock say now?"
Dirandau's line of vision didn't waiver. He made no attempt to look at the nearby clock.
"I can't see it. There's a glare on the clock."
"Uh-huh...sure. Then if I draw a clock on paper, you'll be able to tell me, right?"
"Yes. But you don't have any paper."
"I can get some."
"No you can't!"
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"Do you remember how to tie your boots at least?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
"Absolutely."
"....yes....."
This was taxing on his good manners.
"Want to show me?"
"No."
Truthfully, he did know. He just didn't want to be embarrassed. He was perfectly fine when doing things alone, on his own. If he knew how to do something, then he could do it. But only when he wasn't watched. Being watched destroyed all his finesse and ability.
Watching eyes...why did they plague him so? As if his ability to be what they wanted to see was the key to surviving.
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Nowadays, in doing anything while being watched, he appeared so shaken and nervous. He was so used to being expected to screw up.
And he was never one to fail in rising to his reputation....
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"Dilly, you worry me."
"Gatty-"
"No, no. I know you're sorry about it and everything, and I know it's normal to you. But, it really worries me when you inform me that you can't even read a clock. I...well, I honestly don't know how you're going to make it."
Gatty was loathe to admit this, but he doesn't know what else to do. This...all this...what was there to describe how awkward this whole mess was?
"This is common sense stuff. Things you've been using your whole life. How do you not know your right from your left, anyway?"
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Dirandau stared at Gatty. He felt hurt, an often experienced emotion. He adored Gatty for helping him...and now his protector was on the verge of abandoning him. Truth be told, Gatty would never have abandoned anyone he felt needed his help, but Dirandau didn't understand such a thing. Anyone will abandon anybody. They just need the right reason. And constant fucking up in basic training...that was reason enough for anyone to abandone even their best friend. Right about then, Cliet's advice was not sounding all that bad....
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Gatty took a deep breath, to calm himself, and began his usual thought process when it came to a problem. There just had to be a way to fix this. No problem was insurmountably difficult.
For now, he decided, he might as well try to soothe Dirandau with a few words. Even if he couldn't fix things, he could help his little protege feel better.
"Dilly...I think it-"
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But Dirandau was not listening anymore. His mind was dwelling on how Gatty now thought of him. There was no defense..no defense whatsoever...not from a well-earned bad reputation. Desparation was welling up inside of him. Desparation to prove that he....well, that he was...something. Anything. Something else than what they called him.
These abstract feelings of bitterness, confusion, anger, and fear condensed themselves, and was conducted to the outside world via his voice.
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"I don't know because they never told me!!!"
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With that, Dirandau ran off to the only place a person could run off to in the barracks - the head {{Bathroom}}.
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Gatty was slightly shocked. It was the first time he'd heard Dirandau speak so angrily. Normally, it was anguish or pain that came acrost in his voice.
But this was unmistakably anger.
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He was about to go in there to follow when he was called by the comm link system to the division office. The newer recruits were receiving their prospective ratings that day. He picked up the records, and ordered everyone to stand at attention in front of their racks.
Cliet, still in a miffed mood, refused.
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"I already know what I'm going to be. I don't have to participate in this crap."
"I know you already know, but you still have to follow my order."
His voice became more officious sounding, as it often did when he tried to be motivational.
"We have to stand together. We have to be unified."
"So then why don't you call your little project out here from the head?" he asked, now unable to be touched by Gatty's hopeful 'glory-speak.'
"Just never mind about him. He's got other problems than you know to deal with."
"Oh, shut up about that! We all know by now there's nothing much wrong with him...at least, nothing that you knew about when you took him to medical. He's fine. He's just pathetic, and needs to go home to his 'momma'. And-"
"Either be quiet or prepare to eat rack," Gatty said, his voice cold and unfeeling. He reserved that tone of voice only for when he was deadly serious.
Gatty had grown fond of slamming the bunks into Cliet. He did it on average once every day.
Cliet complied. He had not grown the least bit fond of Gatty's habit. His ribs were probably never going to quite meld together properly again.
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He began in a loud officious voice.
"Once you receive your record, you are to read what is written on your page four, and nothing else. You will not speak of this information to any of your teammates at this or any other time. Understood?"
All replied, "Yes, sir!" in unison. When no DCs were around, they were expected to call Gatty sir. [Not that they ever followed that rule during normal times...]
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He glanced around, checking for DCs. None about. Great!
He quieted his voice.
"Alright, I know you guys are excited to find this out. So, if you're going to tell eachother, just keep it quiet, and don't go talking about it when the DCs are here."
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He passed the records out quickly. He kept Dirandau's to the side, intending to let him have it later, when he'd be in a better state of mind for it.
He gave the order to open them, and then allowed them to fall out of attention status.
Half the division had received the rating of General Soldier. Basically, a footsoldier, someone who isn't all that important, and no one cares about much. The bottom of the barrel. But, it was better than Serviceman, that's for damned sure. They felt lucky at worst.
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Three received billets as doctors. One of them was terrified. How was he going to be able to do this? He hated seeing the wounded. He didn't know if he could handle the pain of it, of seeing people die in front of him every day. And if he were no good at it, he'd risk being executed. He was on the verge of tears.
This annoyed Cliet very much. He'd give anything to be a doctor, or be in any other position of importance. He, too, was a General Soldier.
"Shut up! It's not that bad, you friggin' idiot. You're lucky. And if you think it's so horrible to see people hurt every day, then talk to Gatty. He's at peace with his fate."
"Cliet, that's enough," Gatty said as his skin tone changed from white to red in a matter of seconds.
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The others were intrigued. There were many mixed feelings about Gatty, but all wanted to know where he'd end up.
"Why...what's your rating?" inquired the young future doctor.
"Oh, he's-"
Gatty tackled Cliet. But, Cliet was enjoying letting them all know far too much. He was able to let words escape his lips amidst the many hits Gatty gave him.
"Gonna...be..a...sorcerer...."
"Damn you!"
Gatty gave Cliet one good slam to the floor, and then let him go. It did no good to hurt him now. The damage was already done.
The others stared. A sorcerer....? One of those black-cloaked demons?
But he certainly didn't seem the type.
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"But...I thought you were supposed to be that new Undesignated Officer. We all did," said that same doctor-to-be.
It was a brand-new rating, designed with the idea in mind that good potential officers were being killed before they ever got the chance to advance, since nearly all of them started out as Undesignated Soldiers. Undesignated Soldiers were basically cannon-fodder.
So, those that were seen as having high potential in areas of physical training, leadership, endurance, and intelligence were being selected to start their careers directly as officers.
And everyone knew there was one in this division.
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"No," Gatty said. "I didn't get that."
There was a tinge of regret and jealousy in his voice. He had a natural aptitude for leadership, that was obvious.
He quickly put those feelings away. He wasn't one to question the decisions of that most holy of institutions - the army.
"But I don't consider myself ill-fated. Much as they are hated, they really do a lot of good here. And they are undermanned. If needed, I will take it."
He was resigned to this fate. And he had already been talked to about the job. From what he gathered, it would be peaceful; a lifelong endeavor in that which Zaibach stood for. [Though he had no idea about its darker side. They hadn't told him, for fear he'd go talking to others. No one learned that bit of information until they were too far in to return. And once they learned, they could never leave.]
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Cliet smirked.
"They'll probably turn you into a monkey, or something..."
Gatty gave him a good kick in the stomach.
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"So...who is the officer, then?" asked one of the undesignated soldiers. There was now excited babbling, and much switching of records. Everyone wanted to know.
Even Gatty was curious.
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While everyone was busy looking at eachother's folders, Cliet spied the one Gatty had set aside. He swiped it out from under Gatty's arm, and quickly flipped to Dirandau's page four.
"Oh, cripes...they can't be serious...."
"What is it?" one of the others asked.
"The little freak's got the job!"
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There were mixed reviews for this bit of news. The few that actually saw past the shallow forefront of paranoia and his lack of common knowledge thought he'd do decently, even if he didn't do well.
But the others...they were less than accepting.
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"You know, I think they screwed up and switched your folders, Gatty," said Cliet. "Because there's no way in hell that little idiot is going to make it as an officer. His crew will end up having to do everything for him!"
Gatty probably should have defended Dirandau, but he didn't say anything. Truthfully, he couldn't argue. Minus the negative remarks about Dirandau's character, he too could see no conceivable way that Dirandau would ever live up to this.
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Cliet glanced over a few more things. Everything in this folder was puzzling.
"Hah! He's an AM! I knew it..."
Cliet smirked at Gatty.
"So...it's got to be true, then....you like the kid, so that's why you keep protecting him?"
"Absolutely not. I protect everyone who needs it."
"But, he's an AM."
"So?"
"Well, duh! Look around you. There aren't that many of them. Seems to me a straight kid would jump at the chance to get in good with their...type."
Gatty rolled his eyes.
"Quit talking like that. There's no reason for you to hate me because of this. And, besides, the army is changing. This is allowed now."
"Fah! First we start using Straights, then we take on foreigners. What's next? We start employing our direct enemies?"
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One of the newer, immigrant recruits was confused. He hadn't been in this society very long, so the abbreviation was unknown to him.
"....what's he talking about?"
One of the others began whispering an explanation to him. "AM stands for Alternative Male...you probably called them femmes. They want unity, so anyone fighting here has to dress like one of us. It's so that other countries will still be intimidated, even if they look down on femmes..."
"No, no. I know that. I mean....Gatty...?"
"He likes femmes. Only femmes. That's a terrible thing. People like that....they're freaks....My father always told me so. If he knew one was our recruit commander...aya!"
"But...why? Why's it such a horrible thing?"
The recruit sneered at the immigrant.
"Forget it. If you can't understand why, then you must be one of them."
"One of what? What the-"
The other recruit walked away in disgust before the immigrant could continue questioning.
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Gatty glowered at Cliet. He was so damned tired of this. He had been doing his job, been working his brains out. It was one thing for Cliet to fight with him because Cliet thought he wasn't doing his job right, because he didn't deserve to be there in the first place, or even just because he didn't like Gatty's personality. [There were plenty who couldn't stand the "When I'm not working, I'm sleeping." lifestyle he had.] But...to go after him because of one trait. One stupid little trait that didn't hold any bearing over anything...
"People like you are the reason our relatives are starving, Gatty."
"No, it's people like you. You, who spend all their time trying to get rid of everyone else instead of training to do their job. Mark my words: You're going to make many mistakes in your career, the likes of which will cause devastation to Zaibach. You are an idiot, a jackass, and a screw-up."
Gatty wrenched Dirandau's record away from Cliet. He looked down at the information.
"Hah...and you can't even read! That's not AM. That's..."
His eyes went wide.
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"It's a typo, Gatty. There's no such thing as an AAM."
"....yes there is."
"Okay. So what's the extra A for, oh wise one?"
"Nothing you need to know about."
Paled, Gatty took his and Dirandau's record, and retreated to the office.
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"AAM...no wonder he...."
Gatty shook his head. This explained quite a few things.
The A stood for altered. In some cases, it was necessary that a femme not merely dress like a man. Or, so he had been told in introductory training.
There was only one way to achieve that...And it certainly wasn't a nice one.
A rating which would require one to be in the heat of battle, and risk either being killed in the open or being captured, was one such instance requiring alterations. They had to continue fooling everyone. And even their abandoned soldiers would not be allowed to be a risk to security.
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Though, it was highly unusual for one so young to be put through that. Even if he was supposed to be an officer later on, there was plenty of time. They'd wait for him to get older.
Thus, Gatty concluded that there must be some terrible things still looming in Dirandau's past. He had no idea of what Dirandau had gone through, but any time that records didn't make sense or seemed inordinately strange, it was the mark of cover-ups and hidden secrets. Though none of them knew the darker side of their government and countrymen, Gatty had something akin to a sixth sense about it. He had always known there was something odd about the people and things around him.
And this bit of info struck a chord with him. A loud, echoing chord.
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Five minutes later, he walked out, still carrying Dirandau's record. He had to tell Dirandau about the rating, and sooner is better than later. But...aya, this was going to be awkward.
He shied away from the group and went straight for the head.
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He found Dirandau in a corner, leaned against a wall. He was fighting away the last bit of his tears.
Gatty began plainly. "Hi....."
Dirandau wouldn't look at him. He was still hurting from the realization that even Gatty had no faith in him.
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"We...uh...we got our ratings today. And guess what? Everyone's jealous of you. You've got a good one."
No reply.
"E...even me. I must confess, I'd love to do what you're going to have the chance to do."
He had hoped that statement might have made Dirandau happy, since Dirandau seemed to adore him so much. But it seemed to do just the opposite.
"You want to read it yourself, or want me to read it to you?"
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"Why bother? I'm going to get killed before I even get out to the fleet, right? No reason to have something to look forward to beyond graduation. It just wouldn't make sense."
"Dilly....why are you talking like that..?"
"Because I'm tired."
"You want to get some sleep?"
Dirandau shot him a terrible look, then turned away even more.
Gatty was thoroughly confused. Dirandau had always been happy when Gatty offered small bits of kindness like that.
"Fine. I'll come see you later. When you're Dilly again."
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A strange sort of smile came to Dirandau's face. He laughed lightly.
"Oh...so....this isn't me, is it? Then who am I? Huh? Tell me who I am!"
Gatty raised an eyebrow. This kind of thing was increasing. Dirandau wasn't completely scared or unsure of himself anymore. There were times when he seemed to have the ability to deal with anything.
The only problem was, his way of dealing...the emotions and feelings that showed through his manner...It....well, it was like some kind of insanity. It was appearing more often, and Gatty didn't want to see that anymore.
"Someone I don't enjoy spending time with."
Gatty walked away, repairing to the office again. He'd be back after Dirandau had time to get over whatever the hell it was he was feeling.
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Dirandau stared at him, his expression changing to one of horror. Now Gatty not only lacks respect for him, but hates him as well. And so, he set about doing the only thing he was considered an undeniable expert at in his division....crying.
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{{Okay, update...yay! ^_^
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These author's notes are long, so I will give you an overview of them.
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These author's notes consist of three sections: Review responces; Preview for next chapter; a little look into what kind of recruit I was.
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Review responses.
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About the brick sandwiches from last chapter: How does one eat them? By reminding yourself that you're still hungry, and stealing everyone elses mustard packets when they aren't looking.
[I actually miss those things...don't ask me why. They were..uh...comforting...and nutricious..^_^]
Galley food is half terrible, and half decent at bootcamp. The nice thing about it was that they were getting a nice array of ice-cream products in all through training.
To any potential recruits: Do not listen eat the Bagel Dogs. Just...don't...
-_-
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Oh, and on the subject of cockroaches and other things again...they are everywhere. I saw one at the galley the other day that was at least an inch long. And, roaches aren't the least of worries. There are brown-recluses everywhere. Honestly, we ought to have insects on the payroll! ::Rolls eyes.::
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And that poor random recruit...yes, the only reason he got the EMI was because he was in the way of the DC's finger. They love stuff like that.
Those were wonderful sessions of torture, if you had a good RDC.
One invented something he called 'the matrix.'
This involved being locked in a room with the windows shut, and being 'beaten' for an hour or two...or more. I didn't have to go through it [or else I wouldn't be here today, because I'd have given up], but what I'm told is that it was nearly impossible to stay up during push-ups, because there was at least a half-inch deep pool of sweat on the ground.
That right there is recruit hell.
And some people loved it.
Insane, aren't they?
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::Chickles::
The one way to make a DC mad as hell was to enjoy being beaten. It was their only way of hurting you, and if you loved it...heheh....
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One_Mean_Rabbit: ::Glomp:: I love ya, man! I wanna make you my new girlfriend, that alright? Because that review has just made you so very dear to my heart.
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Miss Harusame: A bit of advice. Don't give someone a note about mispelling is your post has a typo in it. I knoe you knoe what I mean by this.
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You people leave me alone about this, or I'm changing Dilly's name to Bob.
You've got well over 90% of the fanfiction writing community of Esca fans calling him Dilandau, please leave me to my quirks. If you want to barrage me with this crap, then fine. I have a good deal of endurance.
And I can come up with so many stupid responses.
Just keep it up.
THat's all I have to say. Keep it up.
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Next chapter preview.
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Next time, I'll write in a physical training session or two.
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Dilly becomes much more like the Dilly we know and love from the series. Much to the surprise of everyone else.
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Gatty suffers through many issues, some stemming from what he now knows of Dilly, and what his rating is going to be.
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There will be more fun with galley food.
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And Cliet will suffer like there is no tomorrow! Muahahaah!
::Other recruits cheer in the background.::
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::Sighs::
Let me rant a little about the life of the 'annoying recruit.'
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If you have seen "Full Metal Jacket," and remember that psychotic recruit they called Gomer Pyle, you will get an idea what kind of person I was.
[I wasn't fat, and I didn't do anything so stupid as to steal a donut from the galley, though. Mostly, it was nervousness and perfectionism.]
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In stenciling-training, I spilled my ink everywhere, and put everything upside down, on the wrong spot. I ruined several pairs of shower-shoes and towels, before they made someone else do it while I watched.
I still have no idea how terrible I was doing in comparison, because I was too busy staring ahead, scared stiff and embarassed, to look at anyone else or to ask them their opinion.
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I will never forget the look on my bunkmate's face when the RDC ripped her bunk apart. _
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I wasn't the worst in PT, but I definitely wasn't good at it. [I was defeated in that area by the girl who told a DC to 'fuck-off' when he tried to motivate her in a run. Now that is sheer stupidity...or guts, whichever you want to call it.]
And I was on LLD many a time. I fell often during running, and my right ankle was terrible.
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Nearly cost my whole division any chance of winning competitive flags. Because, during a pre-inspection, I had my LLD paper [which must be kept at hand at all times], and didn't know at the time that it was supposed to be signed.
I don't know how it happened, but I always seemed to be missing at so many training evolutions.
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There was a time when my A-roc, whom I'm basing Gatty off of, did get fed-up with me and my hyper-frustration. She was going over bunk-drills, and I was going nuts with perfectionism. And I quote, "Damn it! What are you going to do, curl up in the head and die because of this? Snap out of it!"
At which point, my eyes glazed over, and I started rambling on about how sorry I was for putting everyone through this, and that I was never going to make it out there.
::Sighs::
So pathetic....
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I was always running to the head during our group EMI sessions.
On the premise that I had to throw up.
I think it was more or less the idea of being punished for something I wasn't solely responsible for...I was mentally incapable of dealing with it.
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And, in case you are wondering, yes I do have a great deal of difficulty remembering left from right, or reading a clock.
It's difficult enough to deal with, without having to deal with everybody else knowing it.
I don't know why they never expected me to learn it...they never seemed to push me at all when I was young.
::Shuts eyes in regret.::
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Anyway....
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EHeh...and our Cliet never out-and-out told me that I should kill myself, but she certainly did imply a few things. She'd gotten a chance to look at my record once, and saw that I had earned the second degree of swimming qualifications [which is better than quite a few recruits get. ^_^]. I wasn't there, but a little spy friend said one of her eyebrows cocked up high, and she basically said, "You mean she actually -passed- something??"
^_^ At which point, the A-roc told her off. I wish I could've seen it...
[She was so delusional. She even took it upon herself to tell a DC off, because the DC had gone out to smoke, and we had to wait for her to get back to get into our barracks. (Which upset several people who needed to use the head.) We were all surprized they didn't kill her on the spot. She did so many things to deserve it...]
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Let's see...what else did I do there?
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I became the 'annoying' recruit, because I grew into the habit of asking anyone who happened to be in my path to tell me information or to show me how to do something.
Nobody understood how the A-roc could stand it. She just told them that I was a friend, and that I may not have been doing well there, but that once I got out into the fleet, I'd shine.
[May the gods bless all 'ricky-spies' who take it upon themselves to report things to everybody else.]
As time progressed, I grew to stop caring what they thought, and made sure to tell everyone to fuck-off. [In nicer words, of course.]
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And, somehow, I gained the reputation of having multiple personalities. I'm still not sure how that happened...had something to do with the way I made conversation...
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Oh, and the ratings...nobody at all was jealous of me. They are all going off to play with bombs and missiles, while I have to sit behind my desk and type, type, type.
^_^ But I am working with the reserves, so that means living on the land. Shore duty is a vacation to sailors, and I get it my whole career.
::Smirks and snickers::
If they knew where I was now, they'd be jealous.
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So...as usual, I'm basically just employing my experiences and incorporating Esca-characters into this.
^_^
As if that's not expected.
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Happy trails till next update.
I should have another chapter of Weapon of War done soon as well, and updated quickly after this.
I've got lots of time, so I may update more often. But, don't count on it.
I'm erratic.}}
Dirandau sat on the floor, shining his boots.
Little circles...little circles...
Aya, but his arm was tired! But, this was the only way. At least, that's what everyone else said. It didn't seem to work for him. He could never get them to shine well enough.
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He dipped the cloth in water, and started on his task again. He wouldn't stop until they were perfect.
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Today was a lucky day. They had all received a bit of free time, thanks to their accolades in a recent test. Their DC was pleased by the fact that they had defeated another unit.
Some fooled around, fighting eachother. Others talked. And then there were the practical jokers.
The place was filled with a generally jovial attitude. But Dirandau took no notice. He just kept working.
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Cliet, who was still quite miffed about his EMI session, approached him.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Dirandau looks up, blinking.
".....shining my boots."
"No, I don't mean that! Aya, you're so thickheaded."
Dirandau looked down at the floor, knowing it was true. Everyone had spent the last week convincing him of that
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Cliet rolled his eyes, and decides to grace the poor dumb recruit with enlightenment.
"I meant what are you doing there? You're in front of my locker. I need to get something."
"Oh!" Dirandau exclaimed as he scooted over. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be in the way."
He smiled amiably, reminiscent of a customer sales representative. He was always trying to get along with everyone. He owed it to them to be nice, since they were at least tolerating him.
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Cliet grabbed a pair of skivvies.
"Doesn't matter if you mean to be or not. The truth is, you're always in everybody's way."
Dirandau lowered his head.
"I..I'm sorry...."
Cliet leaned close to him. Uncomfortably close.
"Yes, you are."
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Dilandau's hair was ever-so-gently hanging down in front of his face. He was thankful that at the moment it was longer than regulations allowed, because it hid his eyes.
"I don't mean to be," he whispered, almost inaudibly.
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"Aya, you're so hopeless! Really."
Cliet continued on in that vein, rambling about Dirandau's ineptness. Dirandau kept sinking closer and closer to the floor, as if he had hope that he could sink down into it. Every word was striking close to home, to his heart.
"And I hope they start kicking out those that don't belong soon. You're the first to go, I'd wager."
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That sentence just about killed Dirandau. They had been warned that it was nearing the time when the DCs would begin slimming down the roster. Anyone chosen who would not be staying was to be sent back in training. And, they would lose their prospective rating. They wouldn't be a soldier when they got out. They would be stuck working as a serviceman. And that was practically slavery, and a great dishonor.
Servicemen were those that did everything from taking out the trash to working in the kitchens. The better off in their group worked on guymelefs and other such machinery, but it took years to be able to get that high. It was a depressing life, one that destroyed the heart of anyone forced to live it.
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Dirandau had been working extra hard, to ensure that he'd have a chance of staying in....but, no. He was just as bad as before. And it seemed that the more he tried, the worse he was.
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"Why don't you just kill yourself and get it over with?"
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"That's more than enough, Cliet!" Gatty broke in. "How dare you say something like that? How dare you?"
Gatty was absolutely furious. It was such hard work trying to make sure everyone was surviving. And Cliet seemed dead-set on making life difficult for everyone.
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"I dare because it ought to be said."
Gatty knifehanded Cliet in the throat, which sent the boy back. He clutched his neck, unable to breathe properly for the moment.
"And it ought to be said that if I hear anything else like that from you, I'm going to pound the living daylights out of you. And then I'll turn you in, and let them take care of you. Understand?"
Cliet managed to cough out a yes, and walked away. One thing he had learned was that when Gatty was defending someone else, he would become very insistent. And Gatty was oh-so-much stronger than everyone else. It was better to wait until Gatty's mindset had changed, and he was easier to deal with.
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Gatty turned his attention away from Cliet, and didn't give him another thought. He had mastered the technique of switching gears, thus enabling him to act without being plagued by a thousand other problems all at once. It allowed him to survive without losing his sanity.
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"Hey Dilly, I got some extra time now. Want to do some training?"
Gatty was determined to help Dirandau improve. It was such a sad thing. Dirandau had a great amount of potential, moreso than anyone could tell from the surface. And he would be doing well, but there always seemed to be something stopping him. It was as if he couldn't let himself succeed, like it was a sin or physically impossible.
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"It's pointless," Dirandau said. "This stuff...I can't do it...I can't. It never changes."
"You can. Just keep at it. If you can't do it, try harder."
"I do. I work as hard as I can. It's not enough. It's...it's just me, though. I don't know what it is, but there's something wrong with me..."
Gatty rubbed his forehead. He liked Dirandau, he really did. But dealing with his self-deprication and paranoia was emotionally draining.
"You...are...not...so...damned...hopeless."
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Dirandau blinked, and stared at Gatty. Gatty was beginning to sound angry at him. Gatty saw that look, and forced himself to calm down.
"Let's just work on something, okay? You didn't do too well on that last bunk drill. Let's work on it together, okay?"
Dirandau nodded. He dared not disagree with Gatty at the moment, the only person who didn't completely dissapprove of him.
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That last drill was murder. The DC had come in the middle of the night, because he couldn't sleep and wanted something to do.
There were several failures, due to the tired state of the young recruits.
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When he got to Dirandau's rack, he took one look, then started in on his bunkmate.
"WHy didn't you help him?"
"It's against the rules to do so, sir."
"So? That doesn't explain why you neglected your teammate."
"....It's illegal to help a teammate out in a drill, sir."
"You should have done it anyway!! You are my Ricky Desperados! If I tell you to do something, you will find a way. Now, why didn't you help him?"
"He didn't ask me to, sir."
"So if he's lying on a battlefield, dying, you're not going to wrap his wounds unless he asks you to?"
The recruit stammered out something that sounded like an attempt to answer. But he couldn't think of a good reply. The DC decided to go easy on him by not forcing him to continue making up answers.
He walked up to the bunk, and ripped everything off of the other recruit's bunk. Which was a shame, because his was perfect.
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Dirandau was mortified. Yet another person was taking the brunt of his punishment. Being responsible for so much pain given to his teammates...it was destroying him mentally.
"You..you're my little wounded incapable, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir," he said, his voice quavering.
"Oh, great. You going to cry? I hear you do that a lot. You'd better not let me catch you crying. Ever. Understood."
"Yes, sir."
"I'd sleep lightly if I were you. Because I doubt your teammates are going to take this much longer. And I doubt your friend here is going to appreciate what he's receiving..."
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After that, he'd ordered Gatty to drop, and forced him to do push-ups for two hours. To add to that, every time the DC came into a space in which Gatty was working for the next week, Gatty was to give him 200 push-ups then as well. And if he failed to notice the DC's presence, that was an extra 100.
"You're going to help push him to succeed, or else you will push yourself up until you die."
Gatty took all this with a thousand yard stare, a blank look on his face. He'd deal with it...he wasn't drained yet. He still had more.
"You can't hurt me..." ran over and over in his head.
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When the DC had walked away, Dirandau stole a glance at his bunkmate, who was now seething with anger.
"Not again! This is just flipping fantastic."
It made Dirandau's heart sink. And people wondered why he was so quick to apologize profusely about anything, no matter how menial. And why he was always mired down in details and work. He had racked up a debt to everyone else. He refused to let it go unpaid. He refused to have his name steeped in negativity. But it seemed so impossible to dig himself out of that.
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Dirandau walked to the front of his bunk, and stood at attention. Gatty watched the clock.
"You have twenty seconds to strip your rack. Ready...begin."
Stripping was the easy part. All you had to do was rip off your sheets and pillow case, and throw them in the center of the mattress. Fairly well impossible to screw up.
Gatty looked it over.
"Well...you...uh....almost got it. Just remember that your matress has to be pushed all the way to the front. Like this."
And he fixes the problem.
"Not too bad, though. It'll pass."
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He looked at the clock again.
"You have ten minutes to remake your rack. Begin."
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Dirandau worked as quickly as he possibly could, but that did no good. He became mired down in the intricate little details, the ones that would stay imperfect no matter how long you worked on them.
On each corner of a rack, the corners of the sheets are to be tucked into 'Forty-Fives." A straight diagonal line, which was supposed to be at an exact 45 degree angle. It wasn't impossible, but it was difficult to master.
Dirandau couldn't get them right. He did t hem, undid them, re-did them, and undid them again. All about twenty times each. It was a bit painful for Gatty to watch him struggling so, needlessly. The poor kid...he wanted so badly to be perfect. Why didn't he realize that no one ever could be?
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"Time!"
Dirandau dashed back in front of his rack, at attention again. According to the rules, he should have been there before the time ended. But, Gatty decided to let it slide this time.
He rubbed his forehead.
"Do you want me to bother looking it over for points, or shall we just skip ahead to fixing what's wrong?"
Dirandau had a glare on his face, angry at his own faults.
"Let's just get it over with."
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"Your forty-fives...aya, Dilly....! You ought to know how to make these by now. We've done them about thirty times."
Dirandau cringed.
"I haven't. I've only done them about five."
"Oh....that's right....you're always at medical when we do training. I...I'm sorry. I'll show you how, okay? And next time you don't understand how to do something, just come and tell me."
The DC was still annoyed about the LLD status Dirandau had received. He'd make Dirandau pay, one way or another. And, if that way could only be acheived by skimping on his training, then so be it. Nearly every time training came up, he sent Dirandau to medical, and told him he'd just have to make it up later.
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"Have you even been instructed on how to fold your clothes yet?"
"A few times..."
"Do you remember any of it?"
Dirandau sighed.
"I remember that the DC got mad as hell because I didn't follow instructions correctly."
"What instructions?"
"Fold right over left; fold to your left, fold to your right...."
"....what don't you understand about it?"
Gatty couldn't help looking at him incredulously. He was hoping, absolutely hoping that it wasn't what he thought it was.
"Uh...Dilly....hold up your left hand for me."
And Dirandau refused to do so.
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Gatty gripped his forehead tightly, his face scrunched up.
"How can he not know this?" he pondered.
"Okay, on that subject, I have to ask...you still have trouble telling time?"
"....No...."
"You're lying. Come on, I'm only trying to help. If you don't tell me what you're having trouble with, how can I do that?"
"It's only when I have to keep converting from civilian to military, and back again...I swear that's the only problem."
"Alright then, what's the clock say now?"
Dirandau's line of vision didn't waiver. He made no attempt to look at the nearby clock.
"I can't see it. There's a glare on the clock."
"Uh-huh...sure. Then if I draw a clock on paper, you'll be able to tell me, right?"
"Yes. But you don't have any paper."
"I can get some."
"No you can't!"
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"Do you remember how to tie your boots at least?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
"Absolutely."
"....yes....."
This was taxing on his good manners.
"Want to show me?"
"No."
Truthfully, he did know. He just didn't want to be embarrassed. He was perfectly fine when doing things alone, on his own. If he knew how to do something, then he could do it. But only when he wasn't watched. Being watched destroyed all his finesse and ability.
Watching eyes...why did they plague him so? As if his ability to be what they wanted to see was the key to surviving.
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Nowadays, in doing anything while being watched, he appeared so shaken and nervous. He was so used to being expected to screw up.
And he was never one to fail in rising to his reputation....
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"Dilly, you worry me."
"Gatty-"
"No, no. I know you're sorry about it and everything, and I know it's normal to you. But, it really worries me when you inform me that you can't even read a clock. I...well, I honestly don't know how you're going to make it."
Gatty was loathe to admit this, but he doesn't know what else to do. This...all this...what was there to describe how awkward this whole mess was?
"This is common sense stuff. Things you've been using your whole life. How do you not know your right from your left, anyway?"
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Dirandau stared at Gatty. He felt hurt, an often experienced emotion. He adored Gatty for helping him...and now his protector was on the verge of abandoning him. Truth be told, Gatty would never have abandoned anyone he felt needed his help, but Dirandau didn't understand such a thing. Anyone will abandon anybody. They just need the right reason. And constant fucking up in basic training...that was reason enough for anyone to abandone even their best friend. Right about then, Cliet's advice was not sounding all that bad....
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Gatty took a deep breath, to calm himself, and began his usual thought process when it came to a problem. There just had to be a way to fix this. No problem was insurmountably difficult.
For now, he decided, he might as well try to soothe Dirandau with a few words. Even if he couldn't fix things, he could help his little protege feel better.
"Dilly...I think it-"
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But Dirandau was not listening anymore. His mind was dwelling on how Gatty now thought of him. There was no defense..no defense whatsoever...not from a well-earned bad reputation. Desparation was welling up inside of him. Desparation to prove that he....well, that he was...something. Anything. Something else than what they called him.
These abstract feelings of bitterness, confusion, anger, and fear condensed themselves, and was conducted to the outside world via his voice.
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"I don't know because they never told me!!!"
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With that, Dirandau ran off to the only place a person could run off to in the barracks - the head {{Bathroom}}.
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Gatty was slightly shocked. It was the first time he'd heard Dirandau speak so angrily. Normally, it was anguish or pain that came acrost in his voice.
But this was unmistakably anger.
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He was about to go in there to follow when he was called by the comm link system to the division office. The newer recruits were receiving their prospective ratings that day. He picked up the records, and ordered everyone to stand at attention in front of their racks.
Cliet, still in a miffed mood, refused.
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"I already know what I'm going to be. I don't have to participate in this crap."
"I know you already know, but you still have to follow my order."
His voice became more officious sounding, as it often did when he tried to be motivational.
"We have to stand together. We have to be unified."
"So then why don't you call your little project out here from the head?" he asked, now unable to be touched by Gatty's hopeful 'glory-speak.'
"Just never mind about him. He's got other problems than you know to deal with."
"Oh, shut up about that! We all know by now there's nothing much wrong with him...at least, nothing that you knew about when you took him to medical. He's fine. He's just pathetic, and needs to go home to his 'momma'. And-"
"Either be quiet or prepare to eat rack," Gatty said, his voice cold and unfeeling. He reserved that tone of voice only for when he was deadly serious.
Gatty had grown fond of slamming the bunks into Cliet. He did it on average once every day.
Cliet complied. He had not grown the least bit fond of Gatty's habit. His ribs were probably never going to quite meld together properly again.
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He began in a loud officious voice.
"Once you receive your record, you are to read what is written on your page four, and nothing else. You will not speak of this information to any of your teammates at this or any other time. Understood?"
All replied, "Yes, sir!" in unison. When no DCs were around, they were expected to call Gatty sir. [Not that they ever followed that rule during normal times...]
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He glanced around, checking for DCs. None about. Great!
He quieted his voice.
"Alright, I know you guys are excited to find this out. So, if you're going to tell eachother, just keep it quiet, and don't go talking about it when the DCs are here."
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He passed the records out quickly. He kept Dirandau's to the side, intending to let him have it later, when he'd be in a better state of mind for it.
He gave the order to open them, and then allowed them to fall out of attention status.
Half the division had received the rating of General Soldier. Basically, a footsoldier, someone who isn't all that important, and no one cares about much. The bottom of the barrel. But, it was better than Serviceman, that's for damned sure. They felt lucky at worst.
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Three received billets as doctors. One of them was terrified. How was he going to be able to do this? He hated seeing the wounded. He didn't know if he could handle the pain of it, of seeing people die in front of him every day. And if he were no good at it, he'd risk being executed. He was on the verge of tears.
This annoyed Cliet very much. He'd give anything to be a doctor, or be in any other position of importance. He, too, was a General Soldier.
"Shut up! It's not that bad, you friggin' idiot. You're lucky. And if you think it's so horrible to see people hurt every day, then talk to Gatty. He's at peace with his fate."
"Cliet, that's enough," Gatty said as his skin tone changed from white to red in a matter of seconds.
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The others were intrigued. There were many mixed feelings about Gatty, but all wanted to know where he'd end up.
"Why...what's your rating?" inquired the young future doctor.
"Oh, he's-"
Gatty tackled Cliet. But, Cliet was enjoying letting them all know far too much. He was able to let words escape his lips amidst the many hits Gatty gave him.
"Gonna...be..a...sorcerer...."
"Damn you!"
Gatty gave Cliet one good slam to the floor, and then let him go. It did no good to hurt him now. The damage was already done.
The others stared. A sorcerer....? One of those black-cloaked demons?
But he certainly didn't seem the type.
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"But...I thought you were supposed to be that new Undesignated Officer. We all did," said that same doctor-to-be.
It was a brand-new rating, designed with the idea in mind that good potential officers were being killed before they ever got the chance to advance, since nearly all of them started out as Undesignated Soldiers. Undesignated Soldiers were basically cannon-fodder.
So, those that were seen as having high potential in areas of physical training, leadership, endurance, and intelligence were being selected to start their careers directly as officers.
And everyone knew there was one in this division.
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"No," Gatty said. "I didn't get that."
There was a tinge of regret and jealousy in his voice. He had a natural aptitude for leadership, that was obvious.
He quickly put those feelings away. He wasn't one to question the decisions of that most holy of institutions - the army.
"But I don't consider myself ill-fated. Much as they are hated, they really do a lot of good here. And they are undermanned. If needed, I will take it."
He was resigned to this fate. And he had already been talked to about the job. From what he gathered, it would be peaceful; a lifelong endeavor in that which Zaibach stood for. [Though he had no idea about its darker side. They hadn't told him, for fear he'd go talking to others. No one learned that bit of information until they were too far in to return. And once they learned, they could never leave.]
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Cliet smirked.
"They'll probably turn you into a monkey, or something..."
Gatty gave him a good kick in the stomach.
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"So...who is the officer, then?" asked one of the undesignated soldiers. There was now excited babbling, and much switching of records. Everyone wanted to know.
Even Gatty was curious.
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While everyone was busy looking at eachother's folders, Cliet spied the one Gatty had set aside. He swiped it out from under Gatty's arm, and quickly flipped to Dirandau's page four.
"Oh, cripes...they can't be serious...."
"What is it?" one of the others asked.
"The little freak's got the job!"
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There were mixed reviews for this bit of news. The few that actually saw past the shallow forefront of paranoia and his lack of common knowledge thought he'd do decently, even if he didn't do well.
But the others...they were less than accepting.
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"You know, I think they screwed up and switched your folders, Gatty," said Cliet. "Because there's no way in hell that little idiot is going to make it as an officer. His crew will end up having to do everything for him!"
Gatty probably should have defended Dirandau, but he didn't say anything. Truthfully, he couldn't argue. Minus the negative remarks about Dirandau's character, he too could see no conceivable way that Dirandau would ever live up to this.
.
Cliet glanced over a few more things. Everything in this folder was puzzling.
"Hah! He's an AM! I knew it..."
Cliet smirked at Gatty.
"So...it's got to be true, then....you like the kid, so that's why you keep protecting him?"
"Absolutely not. I protect everyone who needs it."
"But, he's an AM."
"So?"
"Well, duh! Look around you. There aren't that many of them. Seems to me a straight kid would jump at the chance to get in good with their...type."
Gatty rolled his eyes.
"Quit talking like that. There's no reason for you to hate me because of this. And, besides, the army is changing. This is allowed now."
"Fah! First we start using Straights, then we take on foreigners. What's next? We start employing our direct enemies?"
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One of the newer, immigrant recruits was confused. He hadn't been in this society very long, so the abbreviation was unknown to him.
"....what's he talking about?"
One of the others began whispering an explanation to him. "AM stands for Alternative Male...you probably called them femmes. They want unity, so anyone fighting here has to dress like one of us. It's so that other countries will still be intimidated, even if they look down on femmes..."
"No, no. I know that. I mean....Gatty...?"
"He likes femmes. Only femmes. That's a terrible thing. People like that....they're freaks....My father always told me so. If he knew one was our recruit commander...aya!"
"But...why? Why's it such a horrible thing?"
The recruit sneered at the immigrant.
"Forget it. If you can't understand why, then you must be one of them."
"One of what? What the-"
The other recruit walked away in disgust before the immigrant could continue questioning.
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Gatty glowered at Cliet. He was so damned tired of this. He had been doing his job, been working his brains out. It was one thing for Cliet to fight with him because Cliet thought he wasn't doing his job right, because he didn't deserve to be there in the first place, or even just because he didn't like Gatty's personality. [There were plenty who couldn't stand the "When I'm not working, I'm sleeping." lifestyle he had.] But...to go after him because of one trait. One stupid little trait that didn't hold any bearing over anything...
"People like you are the reason our relatives are starving, Gatty."
"No, it's people like you. You, who spend all their time trying to get rid of everyone else instead of training to do their job. Mark my words: You're going to make many mistakes in your career, the likes of which will cause devastation to Zaibach. You are an idiot, a jackass, and a screw-up."
Gatty wrenched Dirandau's record away from Cliet. He looked down at the information.
"Hah...and you can't even read! That's not AM. That's..."
His eyes went wide.
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"It's a typo, Gatty. There's no such thing as an AAM."
"....yes there is."
"Okay. So what's the extra A for, oh wise one?"
"Nothing you need to know about."
Paled, Gatty took his and Dirandau's record, and retreated to the office.
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"AAM...no wonder he...."
Gatty shook his head. This explained quite a few things.
The A stood for altered. In some cases, it was necessary that a femme not merely dress like a man. Or, so he had been told in introductory training.
There was only one way to achieve that...And it certainly wasn't a nice one.
A rating which would require one to be in the heat of battle, and risk either being killed in the open or being captured, was one such instance requiring alterations. They had to continue fooling everyone. And even their abandoned soldiers would not be allowed to be a risk to security.
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Though, it was highly unusual for one so young to be put through that. Even if he was supposed to be an officer later on, there was plenty of time. They'd wait for him to get older.
Thus, Gatty concluded that there must be some terrible things still looming in Dirandau's past. He had no idea of what Dirandau had gone through, but any time that records didn't make sense or seemed inordinately strange, it was the mark of cover-ups and hidden secrets. Though none of them knew the darker side of their government and countrymen, Gatty had something akin to a sixth sense about it. He had always known there was something odd about the people and things around him.
And this bit of info struck a chord with him. A loud, echoing chord.
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Five minutes later, he walked out, still carrying Dirandau's record. He had to tell Dirandau about the rating, and sooner is better than later. But...aya, this was going to be awkward.
He shied away from the group and went straight for the head.
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He found Dirandau in a corner, leaned against a wall. He was fighting away the last bit of his tears.
Gatty began plainly. "Hi....."
Dirandau wouldn't look at him. He was still hurting from the realization that even Gatty had no faith in him.
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"We...uh...we got our ratings today. And guess what? Everyone's jealous of you. You've got a good one."
No reply.
"E...even me. I must confess, I'd love to do what you're going to have the chance to do."
He had hoped that statement might have made Dirandau happy, since Dirandau seemed to adore him so much. But it seemed to do just the opposite.
"You want to read it yourself, or want me to read it to you?"
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"Why bother? I'm going to get killed before I even get out to the fleet, right? No reason to have something to look forward to beyond graduation. It just wouldn't make sense."
"Dilly....why are you talking like that..?"
"Because I'm tired."
"You want to get some sleep?"
Dirandau shot him a terrible look, then turned away even more.
Gatty was thoroughly confused. Dirandau had always been happy when Gatty offered small bits of kindness like that.
"Fine. I'll come see you later. When you're Dilly again."
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A strange sort of smile came to Dirandau's face. He laughed lightly.
"Oh...so....this isn't me, is it? Then who am I? Huh? Tell me who I am!"
Gatty raised an eyebrow. This kind of thing was increasing. Dirandau wasn't completely scared or unsure of himself anymore. There were times when he seemed to have the ability to deal with anything.
The only problem was, his way of dealing...the emotions and feelings that showed through his manner...It....well, it was like some kind of insanity. It was appearing more often, and Gatty didn't want to see that anymore.
"Someone I don't enjoy spending time with."
Gatty walked away, repairing to the office again. He'd be back after Dirandau had time to get over whatever the hell it was he was feeling.
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Dirandau stared at him, his expression changing to one of horror. Now Gatty not only lacks respect for him, but hates him as well. And so, he set about doing the only thing he was considered an undeniable expert at in his division....crying.
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{{Okay, update...yay! ^_^
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These author's notes are long, so I will give you an overview of them.
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These author's notes consist of three sections: Review responces; Preview for next chapter; a little look into what kind of recruit I was.
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Review responses.
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About the brick sandwiches from last chapter: How does one eat them? By reminding yourself that you're still hungry, and stealing everyone elses mustard packets when they aren't looking.
[I actually miss those things...don't ask me why. They were..uh...comforting...and nutricious..^_^]
Galley food is half terrible, and half decent at bootcamp. The nice thing about it was that they were getting a nice array of ice-cream products in all through training.
To any potential recruits: Do not listen eat the Bagel Dogs. Just...don't...
-_-
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Oh, and on the subject of cockroaches and other things again...they are everywhere. I saw one at the galley the other day that was at least an inch long. And, roaches aren't the least of worries. There are brown-recluses everywhere. Honestly, we ought to have insects on the payroll! ::Rolls eyes.::
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And that poor random recruit...yes, the only reason he got the EMI was because he was in the way of the DC's finger. They love stuff like that.
Those were wonderful sessions of torture, if you had a good RDC.
One invented something he called 'the matrix.'
This involved being locked in a room with the windows shut, and being 'beaten' for an hour or two...or more. I didn't have to go through it [or else I wouldn't be here today, because I'd have given up], but what I'm told is that it was nearly impossible to stay up during push-ups, because there was at least a half-inch deep pool of sweat on the ground.
That right there is recruit hell.
And some people loved it.
Insane, aren't they?
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::Chickles::
The one way to make a DC mad as hell was to enjoy being beaten. It was their only way of hurting you, and if you loved it...heheh....
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One_Mean_Rabbit: ::Glomp:: I love ya, man! I wanna make you my new girlfriend, that alright? Because that review has just made you so very dear to my heart.
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Miss Harusame: A bit of advice. Don't give someone a note about mispelling is your post has a typo in it. I knoe you knoe what I mean by this.
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You people leave me alone about this, or I'm changing Dilly's name to Bob.
You've got well over 90% of the fanfiction writing community of Esca fans calling him Dilandau, please leave me to my quirks. If you want to barrage me with this crap, then fine. I have a good deal of endurance.
And I can come up with so many stupid responses.
Just keep it up.
THat's all I have to say. Keep it up.
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Next chapter preview.
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Next time, I'll write in a physical training session or two.
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Dilly becomes much more like the Dilly we know and love from the series. Much to the surprise of everyone else.
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Gatty suffers through many issues, some stemming from what he now knows of Dilly, and what his rating is going to be.
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There will be more fun with galley food.
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And Cliet will suffer like there is no tomorrow! Muahahaah!
::Other recruits cheer in the background.::
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::Sighs::
Let me rant a little about the life of the 'annoying recruit.'
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If you have seen "Full Metal Jacket," and remember that psychotic recruit they called Gomer Pyle, you will get an idea what kind of person I was.
[I wasn't fat, and I didn't do anything so stupid as to steal a donut from the galley, though. Mostly, it was nervousness and perfectionism.]
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In stenciling-training, I spilled my ink everywhere, and put everything upside down, on the wrong spot. I ruined several pairs of shower-shoes and towels, before they made someone else do it while I watched.
I still have no idea how terrible I was doing in comparison, because I was too busy staring ahead, scared stiff and embarassed, to look at anyone else or to ask them their opinion.
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I will never forget the look on my bunkmate's face when the RDC ripped her bunk apart. _
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I wasn't the worst in PT, but I definitely wasn't good at it. [I was defeated in that area by the girl who told a DC to 'fuck-off' when he tried to motivate her in a run. Now that is sheer stupidity...or guts, whichever you want to call it.]
And I was on LLD many a time. I fell often during running, and my right ankle was terrible.
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Nearly cost my whole division any chance of winning competitive flags. Because, during a pre-inspection, I had my LLD paper [which must be kept at hand at all times], and didn't know at the time that it was supposed to be signed.
I don't know how it happened, but I always seemed to be missing at so many training evolutions.
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There was a time when my A-roc, whom I'm basing Gatty off of, did get fed-up with me and my hyper-frustration. She was going over bunk-drills, and I was going nuts with perfectionism. And I quote, "Damn it! What are you going to do, curl up in the head and die because of this? Snap out of it!"
At which point, my eyes glazed over, and I started rambling on about how sorry I was for putting everyone through this, and that I was never going to make it out there.
::Sighs::
So pathetic....
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I was always running to the head during our group EMI sessions.
On the premise that I had to throw up.
I think it was more or less the idea of being punished for something I wasn't solely responsible for...I was mentally incapable of dealing with it.
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And, in case you are wondering, yes I do have a great deal of difficulty remembering left from right, or reading a clock.
It's difficult enough to deal with, without having to deal with everybody else knowing it.
I don't know why they never expected me to learn it...they never seemed to push me at all when I was young.
::Shuts eyes in regret.::
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Anyway....
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EHeh...and our Cliet never out-and-out told me that I should kill myself, but she certainly did imply a few things. She'd gotten a chance to look at my record once, and saw that I had earned the second degree of swimming qualifications [which is better than quite a few recruits get. ^_^]. I wasn't there, but a little spy friend said one of her eyebrows cocked up high, and she basically said, "You mean she actually -passed- something??"
^_^ At which point, the A-roc told her off. I wish I could've seen it...
[She was so delusional. She even took it upon herself to tell a DC off, because the DC had gone out to smoke, and we had to wait for her to get back to get into our barracks. (Which upset several people who needed to use the head.) We were all surprized they didn't kill her on the spot. She did so many things to deserve it...]
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Let's see...what else did I do there?
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I became the 'annoying' recruit, because I grew into the habit of asking anyone who happened to be in my path to tell me information or to show me how to do something.
Nobody understood how the A-roc could stand it. She just told them that I was a friend, and that I may not have been doing well there, but that once I got out into the fleet, I'd shine.
[May the gods bless all 'ricky-spies' who take it upon themselves to report things to everybody else.]
As time progressed, I grew to stop caring what they thought, and made sure to tell everyone to fuck-off. [In nicer words, of course.]
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And, somehow, I gained the reputation of having multiple personalities. I'm still not sure how that happened...had something to do with the way I made conversation...
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Oh, and the ratings...nobody at all was jealous of me. They are all going off to play with bombs and missiles, while I have to sit behind my desk and type, type, type.
^_^ But I am working with the reserves, so that means living on the land. Shore duty is a vacation to sailors, and I get it my whole career.
::Smirks and snickers::
If they knew where I was now, they'd be jealous.
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So...as usual, I'm basically just employing my experiences and incorporating Esca-characters into this.
^_^
As if that's not expected.
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Happy trails till next update.