Chapter Four: Welcome to the Motherworld

25th May, 2533 (UNSC Calendar)

Ninth Age of Reclamation, 8th Solar Cycle (Covenant Calendar)

Eayn, Y'Deio System

The troop bay was almost completely silent as our phantom sped through the vacuum. There were about two dozen of us recruits onboard, but only an occasional burst of hushed conversation took place - or it at least it sounded hushed, as my hearing was still affected from the high-altitude departure from T'Vao.

Generally though, everyone remained reserved, dwelling in their inner thoughts. I guess the fact that we had all signed up early in the morning left the majority of us lacking any mood for conversation. Even now, I could see some of my fellow recruits yawning and fighting back the urge to sleep.

They'd better have been fighting it back - I doubted that whatever training camp we were headed to would respond well to recruits taking a nap during daytime. Good thing I had gotten an early night.

Everyone however had the same silent sense of anticipation. You could see it in the occasional nervous twitch, the fidgeting of hands and talons, the ruffling of feathers. None of us had any idea what to expect - all we knew was that we were now on a path from which we could not turn back.

A path that could lead to an early grave...

I immediately banished that thought with full force from my mind. Thoughts like that could lead to failures in my training. Even if it turned out to be true, there was nothing I could do to stop myself being killed in my first battle. "It happens", my father would say whenever he brought up a comrade being killed in the battles he'd fought, or when he discussed the subject of death in war in general. Best not to dwell on it.

Instead, I distracted myself by looking around at my fellow recruits. The troop bay of a Type-52 is quite spacious, so we all managed fit in comfortably. Myself and many others were stood up an arrayed along the bulkhead, while others found seating positions along the centre of the bay. All around us, those same enlisted soldiers who had herded us aboard kept watch. I could see that they even had sidearms clipped to their blue-grey armour, though I doubted they'd have to deal with any serious desertion here.

Though the vast majority of us came from the same area - Han City and the settlements surrounding it - nearly all of us were strangers. The few people I could see making conversation were also probably the few who had known each other before signing up. The recruitment station we had come from covered quite a broad area, after all.

Still, though we were strangers to one another now, I knew we would end up getting to know each other very well in the barracks we were destined to share. I thought I might as well try to remember everyone's faces now. They would be my brothers - they were my brothers now, since I was officially enlisted in the military at this point.

"What are you looking at, titch?!"

I instantly reacted and swivelled my head to face the speaker. He was a tall, broad, muscled specimen in his early twenties. Judging from his accent, along with the marks and stains on his civilian tunic, he came from one of the poorer agricultural outlands around Han. These included the plantations which grew high-value cash crop, which had been a staple of Fac's trading wealth since the time of Han the Navigator. My home in Ream had been one of such place, though the plantation it had presided other failed decades before my family purchased the property.

The workers on these plantations, especially the experienced foremen, were hard types - slaving away even under the baking sun and ferocious winds. This character was clearly one of them - and he obviously wasn't impressed by a skinny, middle-class kid like me looking around, meeting his eyes.

But I wouldn't be intimidated so easily.

"Just thought I'd start to get to know everyone," I said smilingly, keeping my cool as best I can. "We'll be living in a glorified prison together for the rest of our lives, anyway."

He growled.

"Funny, hatchling. That means I get to make your life a living hell if you end up near me. Since when do runts like you end up with the likes of us?"

"Funny; have you not heard the news? They lowered the age - the blessed and divine Hierarchs let me join, and you don't want to disagree with them. And who knows? We may well end up sharing bunks."

The young man snorted.

"How old are you, chick?"

"I know, you find out."

He laughed in mock amusement and was about to make an advance on me, when one of the overseeing soldiers stepped in, gesturing with his Type-25 plasma pistol for us to break it up.

"Knock it off!" the soldier barked. "You've signed up to fight Humans - save it for them. You don't want the campmaster to catch you squabbling."

The tough backed down and relented after that. The collective reticence returned, and I returned to looking around.

Needless to say, every single one of my fellow recruits were T'Vaoan, as were the soldiers who supervised us. I knew that the pilots of the phantoms were Ruuhtian - I could hear their distinctive accents as our pilot could be heard from the cockpit chatting with his comrades over the comms. They were most likely hired out to bring us to Eayn. I knew their kind wouldn't be training with us and from what I had heard recently, they wouldn't be assigned to fight lance and file with us either.

In the earlier years of the war and before, the varied peoples of the Chu'ot belt had fought together in mixed units under direct Sangheili command, as part of the regular rank and file of the integrated legions. Ruuhtians and T'Vaoans did have some units to themselves at the beginning, but my father had told me that integrated lances and even files containing all of our kinds were more common, especially in the more diverse legions. Our peoples also fought in such units alongside Unggoy - which according to my father was a constant source of trouble.

This all changed three cycles or so before I enlisted. The High Council had passed a series of reforms to the Covenant military, made decrees by the Hierarchs, in light of the increased challenges the war with the Humans presented. It was clear that the pre-war military was not institutionally equipped to fight a war on this scale, so many changes were made after this age began.

One such reform demanded reorganisation for Kig-Yar troops assigned to the legions - that we T'Vaoans be placed in exclusive units permitting no others. These units would be autonomous within a legion, separate from the regular files and lances that were officered by Sangheili. In turn, our Champions and Majors would be given greater authority. This way, Covenant Army legions would have all-T'Vaoan contingents as concentrated heavy infantry. Other Kig-Yar would remain in the regular rank and file, but would be reserved exclusively for recon and light infantry elements.

Since my people have always prided themselves above the others of our species, we welcomed the reforms. It was a sign that the Prophets recognised our value as soldiers. Perhaps, once the war was over, our overall position within the Covenant might be improved as a reward; I remember respected leaders of our clans suggesting this at the time. Things might get better only for T'Vaoans, at least - but as our proud clan statesmen often said, we were above all others born of Chu'ot.

It may have been for similar reasons that not all Sangheili agreed to the T'Vaoan Reformation, as the motion was known. There were forward-thinking field masters who agreed; from what I had heard, Human ground defences had often proven surprisingly formidable, so it made sense to have more shock troops available to storm them. Those commanders who had fought the Humans on many occasions already certainly thought this way. More conservative Sangheili - especially the councillors - were strongly opposed.

As a result, there had been considerable resistance before all-T'Vaoan contingents were approved. Even now, there were rumoured to be a few Sangheili commanders who procrastinated or even plain ignored the instruction altogether. For my race to have devoted heavy infantry units in an assault role was taken as a sign that the Prophets wanted others to usurp what the Sangheili saw as their exclusive preserve. In other words we would be sharing their position as the spearhead of any Covenant assault; thus stealing that honour which, being Sangheili, they saw as all rightfully theirs.

My father had mentioned all this to me, during our last conversation before his death. It was typical of the Sangheili to try their best to make sure no others could come close to rivalling them, on the battlefield or in politics. Their opposition certainly increased our resentment towards them. Still, the word of the Hierarchs was not to be questioned - the T'Vaoan Reformation was made decree with their blessing.

This was taken as a victory for all Kig-Yar. My father certainly saw it as such, as did our clan leaders. It was not only T'Vaoans who benefited from the new arrangement - the others of our kin were put into lighter roles that better suited them, where they could make full use of their natural abilities. Whether it lead to a decrease in casualties - I would have to get to the front myself to see if the reforms had actually saved lives.

Even if they had not, there was nothing I could do. The opinions of a lowly Kig-Yar would never affect the decisions of the High Council, certainly not those of the High Prophets. I'd never gone to the Ministry of Concert offices on T'Vao with any complaint in my life, because I knew that it would be tossed onto the pile of millions of others and forgotten. Worse still, a bold complaint could get me into serious trouble. Best to keep my mind off matters over which I had no control - especially those on dangerous ground.

Anyway, the new reforms applied to our training regimen as well; from now on T'Vaoan soldiers would be trained separately from the rest of our people's soldiers, and by fellow T'Vaoans only. Before the reforms we had also trained together. Now, we had our own separate training facilities on Eayn, each commanded by a veteran Champion. It was to one such facility that we were headed. Those Ruuhtian pilots would be the only other Kig-Yar breeds we would be seeing in quite a while.

I turned back to the porthole I was stood beside, and noticed that the blue-green orb of mother Eayn was already in sight. The Type-52 Troop Carrier is an impressive craft, both in speed and capability. It didn't take long for us to reach our destination - perhaps no more than an hour.

It certainly wasn't long before we felt the turbulence of re-entry, as our phantoms ploughed into a new atmosphere. Flames licked past the porthole for a short period - but the troop bay of a Type-52 is fitted with inertial anti-gravity dampening fields. This considerably reduces vibration for passengers inside, so it wasn't like we were wildly shaken about or thrown off our feet. At most, the feeling was no more than a minor shudder or shake. We had good pilots, too - they knew how to properly enter an atmosphere.

Having entered the atmosphere, the flames of re-entry passed. Once more, the great mountains of cloud formations filled the view, obscuring the porthole with mist as we flew through them. The clouds were soon replaced by a landmass - the clear shape of a coastline battered by the Great Ocean of Eayn.

I wasn't able to take in much of it, however. Within a second I was jolted from the porthole by a sharp chime, followed by a blunt, gravelly voice; "Attention all recruits!"

It quickly occurred to me that the voice was on the phantom's internal speakers - and that it was clearly the Major in command of the lance of soldiers that had marched us onto this dropship, who were now monitoring us. He was addressing us from the cockpit and expected our undivided attention. I turned my eyes forward.

"We are now approaching the Vara Training Grounds of Ha'chut peninsular, on the north coast of Ah'lomet. We will arrive shortly - prepare to disembark. Once you disembark you will immediately form up as instructed. That is all."

Another chime followed, and the channel was cut. The man's tone had been very direct - we had just been issued with our first orders in the military. Best prepare myself for more of it - a life in the military would be virtually nothing but orders.

I kept my eyes forward after that. I didn't need to gather anything up to prepare to disembark - I brought only the clothes I wore. The instructions that came with the recruitment brochures specifically told us that none of our own possessions would be required, that we were to bring nothing along. The military would provide everything we needed.

I didn't see the peninsular to which we were headed appear in the porthole, nor any of the landscape around our training grounds, nor the grounds themselves on our descent. I kept facing forward, ready to get off this ship. Our superiors - yes, they were our superiors now - would not react well if we weren't ready to disembark. I hoped to make a good first impression.

I'm sure nearly all the others were trying to do the same as well - but the strain of getting up early in the morning with only a few hours of sleep hampered them. Most of us looked dreary eyed, a few were even yawning. Even I, who had gone to bed early before this day began, felt some level of tiredness - the feeling one always gets from being awake at early hours. I noticed that the burly youth who I had briefly sparred with was on the verge of shutting his eyes - his attitude was most likely due to fatigue, or boredom, or both.

We all felt a distinct change in the phantom's movement is it pulled into a hover, before slowly lowering itself down to the ground. A few moments passed before, with a mechanical whir and a hiss of compressed atmosphere, the portside doors opened. This was immediately followed by blinding rays of sunlight that poured into the troop bay, replacing the cool darkness of spaceflight with the searing heat of the day in an instant.

It was certainly a shock for us young recruits, especially since we had left a city in the midst of a rainstorm. We turned to face the light, shielding our eyes. However, it did not prepare us for what would follow.

When that same Major in charge of the overseeing lance - eight soldiers in total, not counting himself - stormed out of the phantom's cockpit, he made sure we all got the shock of our lives.

"Get your sorry hides out of here!" He screamed louder than anyone I'd ever heard in my life. "Didn't I tell you to be ready?! Get your worthless, useless corpses off this ship in five seconds - anyone left behind cleans the latrines for a week! Out! Out! MOVE IT!"

I immediately got myself moving, as did every other recruit with a brain in his head. The other soldiers onboard spurred us on as we piled out of the dropship, eager not to get our hands smothered with the barracks' excrement.

We hit the ground - mostly sandy, easily kicked up. Already, clouds and devils of dust were being thrown up by the phantom engines, and by the feet of dozens of recruits as they disembarked. The dust stung my eyes as I struggled to take in the scene around me.

We were in a vast, rectangular shaped training ground. Like the courtyard we had taken off from on T'Vao, it was walled with pillars, this time made of bronze. Clearly this was a much older structure, with the attached barracks built in the style of the ancient seafarers of the motherworld. They were long barrack buildings of mud-brick and daub, with wooden frames and tiled roofs, stretching on the other side of each of the two longest lines of pillars in the rectangle. At each side of the wall of pillars there was an entrance, each marked by a great stone arch.

The sand which we were stood on had obviously been artificially laid down, forming a perfect yellow carpet of the stuff across the whole grounds. It was kicked up even more as I saw the two other phantoms that had taken off from Han with us land on either side of our craft. Within seconds, the recruits aboard those dropships piled out too.

In the middle of the training ground stood a large copper obelisk. Four arrows were welded to its peak, one on each side. In the moment I had to look at them, I realised that they were points of a compass - iron ancient runes for North, South, East and West stood out in the middle of each arrow.

I didn't have much time to take in all this scenery, however. Another Major quick-stepped towards us as we got off the phantom. As he got closer, the more familiar his features became. To my shock, I realised that it was the same Major who had approved my enlistment back in Han - the same man who had tried to talk me out of signing up. He must have flown in ahead of us - I did remember hearing another phantom taking off ahead of the three we had flown in on, but had thought nothing of it at the time.

I gulped. This was bad news, especially if I was assigned to him during training. That would mean I would likely become a disproportionate focus of his personal attention. He would push me harder than the others, in order to prove that I truly meant to join the army as I had told him. As my father once told me when I had first discussed with him about entering the military, during training it was never, ever a good thing to become the subject of your instructor's personal attention.

If there was any mutual recognition on the Major's part right now, however, he did not show it. He had a long, blunt looking staff in his right hand - its purpose was very clear to me. It was made of wood from the bu-vao tree, known for its branches which are hollow, yet straight and almost rock-hard. The ideal material for beating recruits, in other words. Clearly, he had travelled to Eayn ahead of the phantoms that had brought us here, and was now fully in the mindset to reshape our lives forever.

"Form up!" He bellowed. "Three rows of eight! Come on!"

We all did our best to obey - I think I was one of the first to get into formation - but inevitably there were those who were too slow. One recruit stumbled around, as if still half asleep, and drifted out of the three rows of the two-dozen of us from this phantom.

The Major came down on him with a vengeance. He dashed towards the wayward recruit, swung his staff and smashed it into the young man's stomach. The drifter doubled over, clutching his ribs as the Major screamed into his face.

"Did you have a problem hearing!? I said get into the rows! Sleep time is over! Do you understand now? Speak!"

The man gave a few groans, before the Major rounded on him again.

"I SAID SPEAK!"

"Yes, I understand, Major!"

"On your feet then! MOVE!"

The drowsy recruit - well, he wasn't so drowsy now, I will grant you - quickly got to his feet and rejoined the last row at the back. All of us were upright and attentive now. The lesson was clear from that little demonstration; follow instructions and obey orders, or it will be the worse for you. I certainly didn't want that stave crashing on my hapless form.

The other two groups had by now departed from their own phantoms, and in front of each of them an instructor was also present with a bu'vao staff, forcing them into three rows each. Soon, we were all formed up and facing the western side of the training ground as indicated by the central obelisk. Within a few seconds of us all getting into formation, the phantoms fired up their engines once more an departed. They left huge clouds of dust - almost a small sandstorm - that filled all of our part of the ground as they took off. Our eyes stung, and some of us coughed - though thank Chu'ot, the Major did not bring his wrath down on us for that.

As the dust passed, a clear view of the training ground returned - along with the sudden appearance of a new figure. Clad in gold armour, he stood tall in front of us, hands behind his back and regarding his new recruits with steely eyes.

I examined this new man more closely. The gold armour could only mean one thing - he was a Champion, the highest rank that any of our species could obtain. He had chosen to forgo his helmet however - he kept his head bare when addressing us. He was older than my father had been before his death - perhaps in his fifties, maybe even early sixties. His most striking and discernible feature, however, was a nasty set of burn-marks down the left side of his head and left arm - as if that side of his whole body had been set on fire. While many of his feathers on that side had grown back since whatever terrible event that had caused those burns, others still looked permanently charred, crumpled and blackened.

I made sure not to stare too much - that would likely not sit well with him or any of his Majors. Yet even with these terrible injuries his eyes shone with the gleam of charisma and authority, the kind that said clearly that he was a leader of men. I could feel this in his voice too - commanding and clipped - as he addressed us for the first time.

"Greetings recruits," he began, getting our undivided attention instantly. Clearly, no matter who you were or how you felt at the time, when this man spoke everybody listened. "I am Xen Var, Champion of the Vara Training Grounds. First of all, I must bid you all welcome. Second of all, I must lay down the hard truths. Your time here will be hard. You will all be tested. You will all suffer. You will all be pushed to the limits of your endurance, your capabilities. This is not a pleasure resort, none of you should have deluded yourselves into thinking so before coming here."

He paced back and forth in front of us now and then throughout the whole time he delivered his welcome speech, hands always behind his back, our eyes following him all the while.

"But know this, and remember it always - you all chose to be here. You are not conscripts. There are no victims among this group here. Each and every one of you wanted to be here. You, and you alone, made that decision. We Kig-Yar are not pressed into service in the army, like the miserable batches of whimpering Unggoy who fill the ranks day after day. And unlike them, we have the privilege of being trained here and elsewhere before we leave this system to serve our Covenant. I will guarantee that you will be grateful for your time here, that you will thank us and regard yourselves as lucky to have been here in years to come.

"And when you all become soldiers - and we will make certain that is so - we will be proud to call you as such. These grounds are the training grounds of our ancestors. Here is where the gladiators of old trained, to hone their skills for the challenges that lay ahead of them in the arena every day of their lives. So too shall you be prepared for the challenges that lie ahead for you in the army. And as they emerged from these grounds as warriors, so shall you."

As he paused for effect, I realised quickly that it should have been obvious from the beginning what these grounds had once been. The buildings clearly dated back to the Seafaring Era, long before we mastered spaceflight. Also, our training grounds on the Ha'chut peninsular were close to the sea. No doubt one of the great coastal towns of old was nearby. Such places were almost certain to host a gladiator arena in those times.

I had not visited our motherworld before - this was the first time. Eayn held so much history as the cradle of our people. I wondered for a moment If I would get to see any of it beyond this compound, which clearly had a rich past in its own right. But I didn't have much time to think on the history of this place, as Xen Var's clipped tones echoed across the grounds once more.

"Until then, I can only wish you good luck. You will only have our respect when your training is complete. Once again, welcome to the Motherworld."

He then gave a nod to his Majors, and immediately the one in front of my phantom group began speaking, together with the other two, each giving the same message to each group simultaneously.

"Since there are seventy-two of you all in total, you will be sorted into six training lances of twelve. Your names will be called out for each lance, and you shall form up into that lance as ordered! To begin," He pulled out a datapad from his armour, which no doubt had all our names - "the following are assigned to First Training Lance..."

The names were called out, and the 1st Training Lance eventually took their places in front of the rest of us. They were promptly assigned a Major, who marched them to the Northern section of West Barracks, the directions being indicated by the Obelisk in the centre. The process was repeated for the 2nd Lance, and the 3rd. Throughout the whole time, my name was not called out. I was becoming impatient, waiting out here for so long in the dusty heat while others settled down into their bunks. I began to wonder if the barracks had a cooling system, out here...

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that the Major's words as he called out the members of 4th Lance became blurred. My mind began to leave its body, as if yearning to be somewhere cooler, wetter, breezier - just like old home...

"Fac, Trau! Damn it, do you have a hearing problem!?"

Oh damn me...

"No Major!"

"Then why did I have to call your name three times? Or is it that you don't know your own name? Well, do you know your own worthless name?"

"Yes Major!"

"Then join the others - you're the last to be called! Let us hope that's not all you're last in!"

I was cursing as I quickly shifted my hide and joined my training lance - the 4th Lance. How could I drift into my thoughts at a time like this? My father would have given me a good hiding if he could see me now. At least the Major hadn't brought up my dismissal of his advice at recruitment.

I dismissed any angry, self-haranguing thoughts from my mind as best I could. There was no point in dwelling on a minor misdemeanour - best to prove my poor first impression wrong. Instead, I turned to look at my lance-brothers.

I noticed that the heavyset youth who had come close to pummelling me on the phantom was one of them. I gulped - best not to stay enemies with him. We would be living and training together, after all. My father told me that the barracks creates comradeship amongst all who enter it, no matter their differences. I just hoped that he was proved right in this case.

"Eyes Forward! Form up!"

This was the Major again. Fortunately, he wasn't just addressing me this time - all of my lance mates were milling about, still looking around when he came over to us. Even so, I was mentally cursing a storm as we formed up into a row of twelve, all staring forward. Clearly he was the Major to whom we were being assigned, because another had taken his datapad and was now calling out names for the last two lances.

So, I was getting that same Major who had tried to talk me out of enlisting, also the very same who had called me out in the worst possible way on arrival to the training grounds. My luck cannot possibly get any better, can it?

"I am Major Nix Kar," he declared, still clutching his bu-vao stave in his right hand. "I will be your father, your god and the demon who haunts you in your worst nightmares night after night. You are broken metal, dirtied ore dug from the ground - but I shall refine you, break you, beat you and forge you into the finest blades. And fine you shall be. When this all ends, I shall be the figure you will come to admire and love the most in your miserable lives."

He then changed his tone in an instant.

"But this instant, you listen to me and me alone! You are assigned to North section, East barracks! Get marching, two files of six! Double time!"

We obeyed instantly, none of us wanting to feel the blow of that bone-shattering staff anytime soon. With Major Nix in the lead - I had to remember we referred to each other by birth names here, not by clan - we quick-marched to the East Barracks, with the Obelisk compass as our guide.

The barrack blocks, East and West, were divided into three sections - North, South and Central. The first two sections were those closest to the North and South entrances to the training ground, respectively, which were located on the shortest sides of the rectangle. The Central section was, as obviously implied, between the two of them.

We were headed to the Northern section, or North-Eastern section, alternatively. Each barracks housed three of our lances - one section for each lance. First we passed through an entrance at the central part of the barracks, before heading down a corridor that lead to the Northern dormitory.

The dormitory walls and ceiling were totally plain, of plain white wattle and daub, with a hard floor of ice-cold tiles. The dormitory itself was nothing more than two rows of six closely packed beds, one on each side of the room, with plain sheets. A dull metal locker lay at the foot of each bed, presumably containing our essentials. Privacy and warm creature comforts are the first things that go out of the window in the military.

Major Nix ordered us all to line up in front of our beds, not caring which one we chose. Soon enough, we stood in our rows of six, facing each other across the dormitory.

"I will help you make yourselves at home here," Nix grinned like a predator, which immediately told me that he did not exactly have our personal comfort and welfare in mind when he said this. This was proved a second later when he leered, "which means I will have to take something from you, and you will have to give something to me."

He gave a nod to some unseen figures outside of the door to our dorm room. The whir of anti-grav generators suddenly broke the silence as a hover trolley, pushed by a burly looking Minor, was manoeuvred right into the middle of our two rows. There was some sort of blue-purple device attached to it with a gaping maw at the top - I could almost immediately feel the plasma-generated heat glowing off it like a raging fire, adding to the already boiling levels in this room.

Within seconds of the arrival of the portable plasma furnace into our hapless midst, Major Nix bellowed one, simple command.

"Every recruit strip off!"

The Minor who had pushed the furnace immediately joined in haranguing us to remove our civilian clothing, and then he was joined by two leaner and younger Minors who stormed through the entrance to the room, screaming out the foulest range of obscenities that I could possibly have thought off. Together, they all made a determined effort to get us naked in seconds.

I had already removed my cloak - it was stifling in the heat of this place - and was already on the way to unbuttoning and removing my tunic-shirt. It was at this moment that the same hulking Minor who had brought in the plasma furnace suddenly towered over me.

I am ashamed to say that I came close to wetting the same clothes I was removing. Fortunately I was able to hold it in at the last minute - I doubt I would have survived the next moment somewhat intact if I hadn't.

Well, somewhat intact, anyway.

"You're not moving fast enough, runt!" The big Minor snarled.

"Just need to get these buttons off..."

My protests were in vain.

The Minor grabbed the collar of my tunic with one hand, the band of my trousers by the other. I was only able to put up the most pathetic resistance possible as he used his talons to pull my attire apart. The sound my clothes made as he destroyed them...I never previously thought that it would be possible to completely rip off someone's clothes with such ease, in one simple, mighty flex of muscles, but this man blew all my prior beliefs out of the water. To this day, whenever I hear something ripping - paper, cardboard, clothes, anything...I think back to this moment.

He completely tore off my tunic, buttons and all, in one savage tug. My trousers protested, desperate to stay on my legs where they belonged - but the bastard ripped them right down the middle, until they were nothing but a torn pile of rags at my feet.

He then scooped the remains of my leggings up from the floor - I made sure to get out of the way, having being already nearly bowled over during his murder of my poor clothes - and they soon joined what remained of my tunic and my still intact cloak in his wicked claws.

I was now left in nothing but my underwear. The man gave a torturer's leer as he tossed what had once been my beloved attire of civilian life into the glowing, gaping maw of the furnace. A puff of smoke rose from it as the fabric was burned away into ashes. The windows were open so it could be dispersed, but even so I couldn't escape the sweet smell of my incinerated clothes, never to be worn again in my miserable life.

I just about managed to hold back the tears of humiliation. Just about. As you can see, I did not entirely survive this moment intact.

Major Nix and his fellow sadists threw more clothing - or rags, I was not the only one who had been forcibly stripped - into the furnace's hungry mouth, until eventually every trace of our civilian identity was burned away in its hellish stomach. Nothing that is, except our underwear, which we did our best to stand straight and dignified in, in spite of all. We were now at Nix's mercy as he addressed us once more.

"Whatever life you lead before is gone, burned away with these clothes," he declared merrily, sniffing the scent of the smoke as if it were the sweetest possible meal being cooked for him. "Your new life begins today. You will find it in your lockers." His tone changed to darkness. "Open them."

We did so, each and every one of us recruits knowing what was good for us.

Within the lockers were perhaps the only possessions we would have during our whole time in the military. Bathing oils, soaps and other toiletries, towels, clipping tool kits for our feathers and talons, personal mirrors, canteens for water - but what immediately caught my attention was the pair of smooth bodysuits neatly folded alongside one another.

It was these that Major Nix immediately made us aware of.

"The bodysuit will be a part of your whole life from now on. You will live, run, fight and sleep in it. Indeed, you may well die in it."

He let that thought hang. It was not the first time such a thought had entered my mind.

"Whatever armour you wear in the future will fit onto it magnetically and automatically. It will be a part of your body - It will be your body from now on." He then gave a sneer, "But since you are all such careless, mindless bags of shit, we know there is a strong risk you will manage to lose track of it. To compensate, we've given you a spare. Put the first one on!"

As we did so, I was amazed by how accurate the Major's words were - the suit was almost like a second skin, perfectly flexible, comfortable, almost hardly noticeable. It covered all parts of the body except for our hands, feet and throats. I didn't even feel any extra heat from it - it was a dream compared to my stuffy civilian clothing. That didn't remove the shock of the change, but it did dampen it somewhat.

"Wears like a dream, doesn't it?" Nix continued. "Well, it looks like you might just have a place here. For today, at least. Tomorrow, your training begins. Fortunately for you worms, the sun is now setting. Get some rest, for we rise early tomorrow."

I could see through the windows that he was right - throughout the whole time we had been here, the day had been ending in spite of the bright sunlight at our arrival. We'd arrived at a time when this part of the second largest continent of Eayn was in late afternoon-early evening, and with all that had just happened I hadn't even noticed it. It had been early morning on T'Vao when we had left - we'd all be reeling from a horrendous jet lag by the next morning. I began to suspect that our trainers had hoped for that effect, having timed our arrival that way deliberately. Right now, the sky was steadily darkening. Time had passed pretty quick.

The Minors who had forcibly stripped us filed out of the room, chuckling and cackling at our expense as they left. No doubt they had enjoyed a good show for themselves. Major Nix was the last to leave.

"Until the next morning, scum." he jeered as he left for the door,

We remained silent, none of us willing to open our mouths. Just as he reached the door, the Major suddenly spun around on his heels, his voice turning dangerous. He clearly didn't like his bedtime farewells going unanswered.

"I said, Until the next morning, scum!"

"Until the next morning, Major!" We all shouted in unison. Satisfied, he left, slamming the door behind him.

We then fell at ease, grumbling, grunting and groaning, with some of our lance beginning to chat amongst themselves. For my part, I collapsed onto my bed. Hard though it was, it would be my only place of comfort and refuge during the next few months.

Sure enough, my luck got even better. That same burly youth who I had come close to brawling with had taken the bed right beside me. Like me, he was settling down to some rest.

I turned to him. If that vaunted military comradeship was to start somewhere, it might as well be here.

"So, when can I expect those fires of living hell you promised me?" I asked, with as much mock innocence as I could muster.

The youth let out an irritable growl.

"When I find the energy to start wringing your neck."

"Which will be?"

"A very long time."

I chuckled, satisfied.

"It might be useful to save our energy, then. Should we try to learn each other's names, first?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned to me.

"Par Vil. From the plantation flatlands north of Han. You?"

"Trau Fac. From the village of Ream, in the wetlands to the south."

He smirked.

"A wetlander. That explains your scent."

"Those stains on your tunic explained you."

Par chuckled. Clearly, my hunch that he was from the plantation lands were correct - he certainly had their hardened attitude.

"Don't remind me of my clothes. Losing them today was bad enough."

"As the Major said, it is our new life, starting anew. Sounds like it is that way for both of us."

He grunted, but I it was not a dismissive grunt. He was actually acknowledging me properly. A start, I suppose.

"I guess it is." He then settled into rest. I did the same.

Well, things had gotten off to an interesting start - at this place, with my appointed head instructor, with my nearby comrade - but who knew what tomorrow would bring. Tomorrow, by the sound of everything, would be very hard.

But for now, whatever problems were waiting for us when the sun rose again could wait until then. That, dear readers, is the beauty of evening and the sleep it brings.

I would enjoy such moments while they lasted. I had the feeling they would become very precious in my life ahead.

My life, starting anew from this day.