Chapter 3
The Federation Recruitment Facility
Commander Johanson's ship came out of hyperspace outside the magnetic field of the Federation Recruitment Facility.
"State your name and purpose," came a transmission over his radio.
"Commander Gerald Johanson, here to survey the progress of the new trainees." He replied.
"Please scan your retina and submit the result to frequency 7.6.31."
Johanson pushed a button on the control panel, and a small, cylindrical device lowered itself from the ceiling. He put his eye to it, and within three seconds it had taken a full scan of his retina. He then pushed another button, and the information was sent over the airwaves.
After a brief crackle of static, the voice on the other end said, 'Thank you. We have confirmed your identity, Commander Johanson. Please dock with us at port 2A."
"That's affirmative," Johanson said, and he switched off his radio. He pulled his ship around to the far side of the station and nestled it into one of the small docking bays.
When he got out, he was greeted by two young staff members in grey suits. "Welcome to the FRF, Commander," one of them said. "Please follow us, we need to check you for contamination."
After being scanned by a large machine further inside, the staff member said, "Okay, Commander, we have confirmed that you were not contaminated by any materials from space during your journey. If you'll just step into the main lobby, I will send for the director."
"Yes, sir," Johanson said, and he followed the two staff members into a slightly larger room, with plain, grey carpeting, a few windows out onto the starscape, several chairs around the perimeter, and a table with a few magazines on it.
"Wait here, please." Said the staff member, and he and his partner strode down an adjacent hallway.
Johanson sighed and sat down. He had just enlisted in the Federation army when work began on this place. Its main purpose was to recruit and train soldiers for immediate entry into the Federation military. The training programs are top-notch, and the officers all veteran Federation senior officers.
The Facility had always relied on volunteers: rarely was there ever a time when the youth of the galaxy weren't eager to protect it. But ever since P.O.G.I. started making itself heard, sign-ups dropped dramatically; the space pirates' reputation increased the fear of death—or worse—by many times. Thus, the Federation had to re-instate the draft; almost all the trainees here had been drafted via e-mail.
Johanson was snapped out of his thoughts by the approach of a tall, dark-skinned man in a white coat. "Hello, Commander," he said, smiling and extending his hand. "I'm Facility Director Buck O'Hayre."
"Pleased to meet you, sir," Johanson replied, standing up and shaking the hand of the director.
"We are greatly honored by your visit," O'Hayre continued. "How may we be of service to you?"
"I've been sent here by the General to check up on the new trainees," Johanson replied. "The Federation is getting a little uneasy about P.O.G.I., so we figured we should start looking for quality soldiers sooner than later."
"I understand," O'Hayre said with a nod. "Well, we're actually conducting obstacle course training right now; if you want, you can watch from the observation room."
"That'd be excellent," Johanson answered.
"Please follow me," O'Hayre said, and he turned and began walking down the far corridor.
O'Hayre led Johanson into a large room that had one wall made entirely out of glass. Through the glass was the training room where the obstacle course was set up; it consisted of laser turrets, rapidly opening and closing floor traps, mechanical remote monsters, and other clever surprises.
"We're just about to start a new run," O'Hayre said as he came up alongside Johanson. Johanson observed about fifteen or twenty individuals standing at the far west end of the room. They were each wearing a loose, orange uniform, a red helmet with an opening for the eyes, and they were each armed with a pistol.
"We start them off in simply the training uniform and pistol," O'Hayre said. "The uniform is thin, but it keeps the trainees safe from laser blasts… at least, the weak blasts of our training equipment."
"And the gun?" Johanson inquired.
"It's nothing more than a stun gun, really. It's for emergency use. But one hit from it will knock out any obstacle on this course."
A buzzer echoed within the training room, and a burly-looking officer with a clipboard called out, "Trainee Smith, step forward and prepare to begin!"
One of the orange-uniformed figures stepped up to the starting mark. When the gun went off, he proceeded to run at full speed towards the other end of the room. In front of him, the floor began to open and form a pit, which he nimbly leapt over. However, as he landed, some mechanized bats swooped out from enclaves in the wall and began firing stun bolts at him. He rolled onto the ground and fired his pistol multiple times, managing to hit two of the bats. They deactivated and fell, but one still remained. Figuring he could let it chase him—and he was faster than it—he ran forward, vaulting himself over the small fake hill that began to rise from the floor. Laser beam turrets suddenly sprang to life, and he valiantly tried to dodge each and every blast, but one of the last bolts nicked his foot, causing him to stumble, and at that moment the mechanical bat fired a bolt at the man's helmet, causing disqualification. Another buzzer sounded, indicating that this man had failed the run.
"Wow," Johanson remarked, "That looks pretty intense,"
"Well, it has to be," O'Hayre responded. "We want to make sure that any soldiers we send into action are the cream of the crop."
Johanson and O'Hayre watched a few more obstacle course runs, each one resulting in failure of one kind or another: either a fall into a pit, a bolt to the helmet; one trainee even had a laser beam go into the opening for his eyes. It didn't injure him, but it knocked him out cold for several minutes.
Johanson sighed. "I think I've seen enough, Director," he began.
But O'Hayre put his hand on Johanson's shoulder. "Just wait one more out," he said excitedly. "I think you'll be impressed with this one."
"Trainee Aran, take your mark!" The burly officer ordered.
The trainee stepped up to the starting mark, and took off immediately after the gun. Johanson was amazed as the figure leapt over the pit in a somersault, then knocked out all three of the mechanical bats with only one shot each. The figure then catapulted over the hill, and as the laser beam turrets activated, leapt high and landed on the nearest one. Then, as the opposite one fired, leapt away, destroying the first one. This process was repeated across the entire laser field, destroying each turret. A huge wall began to come together from opposite sides of the room. Extra speed was picked up, and the gap was somersaulted through just in time. Landing on the mat at the other end, two high pitched beeps were heard as the two final turrets took aim. In a dazzling move, the figure leapt up in between them, then did a heavy downward body weight shift, and fell out of harms way just as the two turrets destroyed each other. A green lamp flashed on the wall flashed, and there was cheering from the other trainees.
"That one's the best out of all the trainees we've had in the past two years," O'Hayre said proudly.
"I can see that," Johanson replied. "I'm very impressed. Let me go down and speak with him."
"Yes sir."
Johanson and O'Hayre walked down the long staircase from the observation room down into the training room and approached the burly officer.
"Commander Johanson would like a word with Trainee Aran," O'Hayre beamed.
The officer simply grunted, turned, and called, "Aran, somebody to see you."
Trainee Aran came striding over, and Johanson said, "I'm Commander Johanson from the Federation," he said, offering his hand. "It's a great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Aran."
"Excuse me?" asked a voice from within the helmet that sounded quite different than what Johanson was expecting. With a swift motion, Aran took off the helmet, revealing herself to be a stunning young woman. The blonde hair, which had been clumped under the helmet, she now tossed behind her. "Do I look like a 'mister' to you?"
Johanson was visibly startled. Although not by choice, all the past heroes of the Federation had been men; it was just something that was grown accustomed to over time.
"Well, I can see I've charmed you silent," she remarked with a laugh.
O'Hayre quickly covered for Johanson's silence by saying, "Miss Aran, the Commander was very impressed with your performance on the obstacle course. He thinks you may have potential as a Federation soldier."
"Is that right?" Samus asked, turning back to Johanson.
"Yes, it is," Johanson answered. "Not to be partial, but as you were the only one who passed the obstacle course, I think I'd like to observe you further for a few days. If all works out, you could be the next Federation soldier."
"Wow… I don't really know what to say," Samus said, taking a deep breath.
"Kind of a pattern when the Federation takes notice of the trainees," the burly officer said with a smirk.
"Hey!" Samus said indignantly, snapping her head back to face him.
Quickly interjecting, Johanson said, "I think it would be best for you to go about your exercises as usual. Just pretend I'm not here."
"I don't see how that will be possible," the officer remarked, "Seeing as how the whole facility is thrown into an uproar by your visit." He gestured to the remaining trainees, who were standing around talking to each other or leaning against the wall, ignoring Johanson completely.
Johanson adjusted his tie and said, "I'm going to report back to Mr. O'Hayre. Miss Aran, I'll be looking forward to seeing your progress. And the importance of my task here quells the need for any sarcasm in that statement." He finished this with a sidelong glance at the officer, who grimaced.
Samus smiled. "Thanks! I hope I can live up to your expectations." She then jogged off to speak with her fellow trainees.
Johanson re-entered the stairwell and climbed back up to the observation room to find Buck O'Hayre speaking with another gentleman. He was about six feet tall and broadshouldered, with a thick mustache and a haircut that made the top of his head seem flat.
"Ah, Commander," Buck said, noticing Johanson, "This is someone I'd like you to meet. Commander Johanson, this is Major Adam Malkovich. Malkovich, Johanson."
"It's a pleasure," Malkovich said, extending his hand and shaking Johanson's hard.
"Adam just stopped by to discuss his next assignment. According to HQ, he'll be supervising whichever soldier you select from here." O'Hayre explained.
"That's excellent," Johanson said, nodding. "Although I'm not sure what the mission will be."
"Then we're in the same boat," Malkovich said.
"The trainees will be taking target practice next, if you want to observe," O'Hayre said, picking up a clipboard.
"Of course." Johanson said. "Lead the way."