Ten weeks of brutal training and Sahna was finally a Marine, graduating 4th in her class. More important than that, her application for officer training was approved, with further recommendation that she be sent for pilot training afterwards. After being rejected by the CSF and then having to endure weeks of agonizing, brutal training, and constant yelling, she was finally on her way to achieving her dream. It might not be with the CSF but she would become a fighter pilot.
Thanks to the South Pole Treaty, a lot of infrastructure was able to get repaired and everyone was able to make a call to their families. It had been absolutely wonderful for Sahna to hear her parents' voices again and they were clearly relieved to hear her as well.
She wondered what they'd been hearing about the war. There were a lot of things she couldn't tell them but she wouldn't have wanted to anyway. She couldn't tell them things were as bad as people were saying because, if anything, they were worse. Hopefully, by the time she finished her training and was sent into combat, they'd have found solutions to the Zaku problem.
Sahna was soon transferred from Camp Triggerfish to Fort Mukrock for Officer Training School, but she wasn't happy with who would be joining her.
"Hey, Flagpole," Chaser greeted smugly as she boarded the bus. "Must be fate that we end up going to OTS together."
Kill me now. Sahna thought darkly, and she wondered who Chaser's relatives could be that they could get him into OTS.
She took a seat near the back of the bus and stayed there for the entire twelve-hour drive to Fort Mukrock.
Fort Mukrock actually took up a larger area than Camp Triggerifsh did. In addition to OTS, the Marine's Armour Training School was also situated there and it had a more expanded airfield. A tall, rounded water tower with "Mukrock" written on it was the most obvious landmark as the bus got closer.
After driving through a heavily wooded area, they passed through the main gate and travelled another kilometre before the buses pulled over. The bus door opened and the driver ordered them out, where, just like Triggerfish, they were greeted by the friendliest of gunnery sergeants, who directed them to immediately unburden the poor bus, that had to carry their sorry asses for twelve hours, of their duffle bags. Nobody dared mention how stiff and sore they were after being cramped in said bus for said twelve hours.
They were separated between OTS and the armour training students and then they were directed into the main administration building where they were processed and assigned a platoon. To Sahna's displeasure, she was once again in the same platoon as Chaser. From there, the OTS and Armour students separated and went to their separate barracks.
Everything just kind of melded together after that, all routine stuff after Triggerfish. Orientation, being assigned their study materials, and being introduced to their new gunnery sergeant, a thirty-something inkyora by the name of Lenean Sidhe. Unlike Gunnery Sergeant Stifle's baritone, Sidhe's yell was a high-pitched screech that elicited winces almost every time she opened her mouth. Even Chaser seemed inclined not to invoke her wrath lest he subject himself to further auditory agony. Before the day was done, the platoon had secretly dubbed her "Chalkboard".
After their first couple of days, routine quickly took over. Unlike the other services, all Marine officers had to pass through one of the three basic training camps before they could attend OTS at Mukrock, so they didn't have to spend as much time at physical fitness and could devote more focus on training them all to become officers. Being an officer meant setting an example for all who followed you, for caring about their well-being before you thought of your own, and getting as many of them them in and out of a situation alive as possible. That was what her mother had always told her.
Their instructors all took their mandate to make the best officers out of them possible and break them down and back up all over again very seriously. As if it were even possible, their sergeants were even meaner and stricter than at Camp Triggerfish, a feat Sahna thought impossible. None of this seemed to damper Chaser's insistence on pushing things, unfortunately.
One week into their training, Sahna sat at in the mess hall, running through some of the tactical problems they'd been given through her head. In order to pass the problems everyone had to use the assets they were given in the problem to their most effective. Games of strategy had rarely appealed to Sahna so she was, admittedly struggling a little, which made the sudden whistling sounds from a few tables down all the more irritating.
Chaser was at it again, showing photos of girls he got from who knew where to some of the other guys in their platoon. Mealtimes in the cafeteria were when standards were at their most lax and everyone usually took advantage of that. Chaser had made taking advantage of a situation a personal pastime. Even now he loudly voiced his opinion on the pictures he was showing them.
"See, I like the black, it's very sexy and she's got hips that could pass a tank through her legs but look at the size of the nutriae on this one. Bet she could hold a dozen eggs with those suckers."
In all the conversations with her iya about boys and dating, not once had she mentioned such vulgarity, so either Chaser and his current associates were anomalies or her iya had simply failed to mention them.
Dad couldn't have been like this. Surely he couldn't.
"I think the white looks sexier than the black," someone else said. "More dangerous, like you're closer to death."
"I actually knew about these girls before the war," another added. "They were pretty popular performers. I think they were about to make it big when the war started."
"Oh really? They must have really deep throats then."
Shana hurried up and finished her lunch. She couldn't stand this anymore; she needed to get out of there. She picked up her now empty tray and started to carry it over to the wash rack, unfortunately that meant passing by Chaser's table and she did not go by unnoticed.
"Hey, Flagpole."
Sahna emitted a small groan and paused, not bothering to hide the burgundy in her mantle, betraying her annoyance. It wasn't as if he cared how she felt.
"Which do you like better?" He showed her two photos, each one a young inkyora in a somewhat provocative pose and wearing fetishised versions of marine dress uniforms. One of them had long black tentacles and a big bright smile, while the other had average-length, white tentacles and a more reserved yet somehow more sultry expression.
She frowned. "Are these those 'military idols' Special Services came up with?"
"Yup, and they've been selling photos like these all over the Federation now. Buying 'em helps earn money for the war effort."
Sahna huffed. "You'd do better for the war effort keeping your gross comments to yourself and not forcing the rest of us to hear them. Besides, those are borderline pornography."
"Oh don't start quoting regs to me again, Flagpole. Seriously, you rely on those way too much. Once you get into the real world, you won't have things so easy."
Sahna's mantle turned a challenging red. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"People who always strictly follow the rules, like you, only work in offices and other rear-echelon places. On the battlefield, that doesn't work so well. What are you gonna' do? Tell the Zaku's stomping through your position that they're on report because their boots aren't sufficiently clean? People like you just can't think outside the box or step out of your comfort zones. You're inflexible. The second things get thrown out of the neat little rows you tried to put them in, you freak out and lose control. You'll be just like those stuck-up officers in movies that care more about their image and rules than getting the job done, only to be inevitably shown up by the real hero of the story."
"And is that supposed to be you?" Sahna asked angrily. "You're the main protagonist so that's why you think you can get away with everything?"
He laughed, his mantle turning yellow with mirth. "Been workin' pretty good so far and some of my marks are even higher than yours. I bet that's an ink clot that gets stuck in your funnel, doesn't it Flagpole?"
Sahna's mantle darkened and she fought a flush that tried to rise up the back of her neck. "I never claimed to be perfect, but I'm more than capable of thinking outside the box, but a good soldier should follow the rules. They're there for a reason." Those were the words her mother had told her. She'd told Sahna plenty of stories of people breaking the rules and getting killed as a result. Her following the rules was not due to any inadequacy on her part. It was not.
"I've never been one to follow rules, Flagpole. Why start now?"
"Well it would make it easier for people to trust you," she said tartly. "It helps let you know you can count on someone when you don't know them. We're going to end up having to do that a lot, strangers depending on each other to get the job done. If you can't even handle the little things, how's anyone supposed to trust you with anything big?"
Sahna didn't stick around to hear a counter argument, she wasn't in the mood. She brushed past him and his associates and deposited her tray and it's contents onto the conveyor belt for washing.
On her way out of the mess hall she spotted a vampire squid sitting by herself at one of the tables in the back corner. The girl's last name was Deepcoast, if she remembered right, and she had bright red, velvety tentacles and vivid blue eyes. There were a few crumpled up pieces of paper around her and more than a few sauce packets, all no doubt from people trying to hit her from the other nearby tables. It seemed that even this far into the Marines the prejudices remained against them.
Sahna was forced to admit to herself that she couldn't quite fully trust someone who so closely resembled their enemies. Those round ears and the more octo-like tentacles were just too similar for her to be comfortable. Still, she was here so that meant she was a Marine, and that meant she had to be given the benefit of the doubt, especially to have made it into OTS.
Sahna passed through the doors of the mess hall and travelled down the hallway to the washrooms. She needed to freshen up a bit and get the bad taste out of her mouth from talking to Chaser.
The more I talk to that guy the more I can't stand him.
As she washed her hands and face she thought about her mother. Surely she hadn't been stiff and inflexible to have had such a good and successful career. Pirates were often unpredictable so she would have had to be able to adapt to varying situations in order to survive for so long.
That wasn't the only thing bothering her though. The idea that Chaser being better than her in something. His marks in interpersonal communication and conflict management were all better than hers, and it irked her far more than she wanted to admit.
I can do better, I know I can do better. I can especially do better than someone like him!
As she left the washroom a poster on the wall caught her eye. It depicted a pair of fighters in a ring with their fists raised to each other. Written in bold, yellow letters at the top was: "JOIN THE UNARMED COMBAT TEAM!"
She stepped closer to the poster and examined some of the details. The team was apparently for a tournament that would take place near the end of her training and the team was open to all non-commissioned members. As an officer cadet, she was not technically an officer yet so that included her.
"Well, why not? I'm keeping up with all my classes pretty good and it wouldn't look bad on my service record either. Who knows, the extra training might come in handy."
And it might not be the "real world", as Chaser called it, but surely it would still serve to prove that she could be flexible in combat, even if it was a controlled environment. Proving him wrong was more than enough motivation for her. And who knew? Maybe she just might have a shot at winning the tournament.
#####
A mixed crowd bounced and cheered as the song reached its crescendo. Tendrils, claws, and hands alike pumped the air with excitement as their owners spent the last of their spare energy on this last climactic moment.
On stage, bathed in a rainbow of stage lights, two young inkyora, one black and one white, led the crowd in their fervour, their voices carrying across the sea of people like a siren's song.
With one last long note, the song ended and the two bid the crowd goodbye as they walked daintily off stage, trying not to look too hasty. Backstage, people greeted and congratulated them on a superb performance, as always.
As they left the stage, the white one dropped the dainty act and let her weariness show. "No more encores," she complained. "I can't keep this up."
The black one giggled. "Oh, Marie, you're just too talented. Everyone can't help but want to hear more of that melodious voice of yours."
"You're up there too, Callie. Don't tell me you're not as tired as I am."
"Of course I am, but I don't like to complain about it as much as you do. Besides, we both had fun."
Marie huffed and slowed so that Callie could walk up beside her. "What you feeling for dinner?"
"I dunno. Something nice and refreshing. After a workout like that in this heat I think I–." Callie cut herself off and Marie followed her gaze to their trailer. A green Army staff car sat in front of it and a corporal in army uniform stood at the bottom of the stairs.
He straightened as they neared. "Ma'ams, Colonel Argent requests your presence immediately."
The two girls found themselves a half hour later in an unmarked building. The corporal led them inside, up three flights of stairs and down the hall to a door indistinct from the others save for the army sentry standing next to it.
"Go right on in," he said. The two flashed green and Marie opened the door.
The room on the other side was a small office, cluttered with countless papers and assistant's computer terminals crammed against the walls on either side of the more prominent main desk, behind which sat Colonel Hass Argent.
Argent was an inkyar with dark green eyes and mantle, on the shorter side of average height with a slight build, causing his Army uniform to look slightly baggy.
He motioned for them to sit down and took a sip of his half empty bottle of brandy.
"I have news," he began. "PROJECT: RHODES is wrapping up soon and work has begun on a genuine prototype for the Federation's first mass production mobile suit."
The two inkyora both drew in a sharp breath, their mantles lighting up excitedly. Finally, after such a long wait, something was happening.
"There's more. Because of the over abundance of spare parts that we don't know what do do with, we're working with Everest Heavy Industries to build a limited production mobile suit using those spare parts, with enough left over that we'll be able to keep them operational for quite a while."
Callie and Marie both frowned and looked at each other. After a moment, Marie asked, "They're planning on sending them into combat?"
Argent flashed green. "This comes directly from the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Morale across the whole Federation has been plummeting and we need a pick-me-up. Combat tests with the RX-77 aren't going to cut it, we need something that can be seen by the front-line troops, that the papers can take pictures of, that can stick it out for a while and make a difference, or at least leave an impact. At the same time, this will serve as an intermediate step towards the first prototype, and for gathering combat data. The final specs are still being worked out though."
Callie bounced in her seat excitedly. "And does the reason you brought us here mean what I think it does?"
Argent smiled thinly. "Yes, the joint chiefs have agreed to our proposal of a combined services unit for the purpose of testing and developing tactics and doctrine for all services. They've already got the ball rolling getting us training accommodations at Black Butte."
Marie crossed her arms, bright orange warning spots appearing in her mantle. "So what's the catch? Nothing in the military is ever this simple; there's always some kind of qualification."
Argent chuckled mirthlessly and took another sip of his brandy. "No, no it isn't quite that simple. The catch is that there are only enough spare parts to build twenty-five mobile suits, and our best estimation for how long the remaining parts would be able to sustain them all at the front is two to three months, with the latter being rather optimistic."
The other two grimaced slightly but remained otherwise composed. "Not much we can do with just twenty-five," Marie said. "We'd only be good for getting combat data and operational experience."
"But that's what we need," Callie argued. "We're not trying to win the war on our own, we're trying to get things rolling in a way we get our own mobile suit force up and running. That's more than doable for what we had planned."
"I wasn't finished.," Argent said, his tone more serious. "The joint chiefs have been wondering about how to go about training pilots. Obviously, the immediate solution is to draw from existing Guntank crews but won't sustain us very long and the Marines already want to start building their own full operational unit with the army hogging all new tank production. So, they want us to try and train a few rookies, untrained in any of the places we usually draw from. Pilots, tankers, and the like."
Marie's mantle turned a ruddy brown. "They seriously expect us to train new mobile suit pilots totally from scratch and then put these brand new, fresh off the vine pilots into our most valuable war weapons?"
Callie's mantle turned dark orange, sharing Marie's concern. "I thought our plan was only to use experienced veterans in order to make maximum use of them."
Argent's mantle pulsed blue. "I know, but the chiefs are thinking long term. Building a lot of mobile suits is one thing but they want to be able to train them properly from the start or they'll be worse than sitting ducks against the Collies. We don't know how they do their training so we're going to have to make it up as we go along, and since you two were the first mobile suit pilots in the Federation, you lucky girls get the chance to pick our three candidates and then train them yourselves."
Marie's mantle turned dark red in protest but Callie smiled, waves of buttercup yellow travelling down her tentacles in gentle waves. "That's not a bad idea. I guess one of the whole points of this unit is to lay the foundation for a training regimen. I guess it would speed things up down the line."
"Exactly, and they'll be able to learn from all the other veterans in the unit too. Of course, the chiefs don't like the idea of putting our most valuable war weapons into the hands of rookies either so they're letting us have our pick from the whole crop of current intakes. You can pick from anyone who hasn't started training in armour, aircraft, or spacecraft. I want one from the army, the CSF, and the Marines. They may be forming their own unit but this one will be coming out long before theirs gets off the ground so they'll want to learn from this too."
Marie pulsed blue, waves of reluctance washing over her. "They're not going to like being taken out of their tracks to come to our unit. I assume it's going to be classified."
"Correct and it doesn't even have a name yet. They won't be told why or for what, only that they're needed where we need them and they basically have no other choice. There's a lot riding on this, maybe the fate of the nation, so we can't afford to cut corners or take chances. Pick the best you can and then report back to me with your choices. I'll be picking out the other slots."
"As you wish, Sir," Marie answered. "But I don't know how this is going to work."
Callie smiled. "None of us do, Marie, our job and the job of these rookies is going to be to figure it out. You always said you like a challenge."
Marie huffed. "Sure. Let's just hope these rookies do too."
Author's Notes:
Believe it or not, I did know a lot of people who acted like Chaser in this chapter. Not necessarily bad people, just a little vulgar and lacking awareness. Some of those people would show me pictures of random women from magazines and ask me if they were hot too. So I based Chaser a bit on that.
In the first draft of this story I had Callie and Marie mentioned in the first chapter, but the timeline didn't work out that way, for reasons that will be made clearer later.
