2. Recruit

After meeting up with Jamin, Corin, and the other recruit, who'd never spoken a word to any of them, they left the liner. Khael's concern that they wouldn't know where to go turned out to be unfounded; there were huge signs with arrows pointing to the training camp.

They'd disembarked early, and discovered that that meant they had hours of waiting. Waiting for the drill sergeant to show up, waiting to be told where to get their supplies, waiting to be told where to sleep, where to eat, where to be examined.

That last surprised Khael and he said as much to the examiner. She was an older woman, a little older than Khael's mother, and she looked tired. "Gotta make sure you lot can handle what we throw at you. Doesn't do us any good to train you if you can't take it?"

Something about the way she said that made Khael nervous. "So, you don't take the ones who don't pass?"

She gave Khael a cool look. "You ask too many questions." She refused to say another word or look at him throughout the exam. Finally, she opened the door to a line of other recruits. "You passed. Go to the next station."

After the exams, they inoculated the recruits against everything possible and dropped Galactic Standard into their head. Khael had heard about the procedure, one in which any language could be given to a person instantly, but hadn't realised how much it would make his head itch. Still, he no longer had trouble understanding anyone.

Khael had expected training to be like what he'd seen in vids, with nasty, unreasonable drill sergeants and lots of unnecessary rote, well, drills. Instead, they were divided into groups of fifteen, and each group was assigned an officer-in-training. Khael and Jamin were in the same group; their OIT was a short, squat man with tan skin, dark eyes and bright red hair named Thal.

Once their group was settled into their new quarters, Thal yelled, "Shut up!" In surprise, everyone did. "Here's how this works," he said, his face blank. "Tomorrow, you start training. You are expected to learn everything you're told immediately. We don't have the time or the personnel to hold your hands, so it's time to stand up and do it."

A tall thin boy, who Khael suspected was even younger than he was, asked, "What if we can't?"

"Then your group will make sure you learn," Thal said. "The instructors don't much care how. I do; if at all possible, you'll learn by regular teaching methods."

"And if you don't?" the other boy asked.

"Then we'll beat it into you," Thal said plainly. "It's not the method I prefer, but we don't have time for anything else."

"Who's we?" Khael asked.

Thal indicated the group. "Us. We're a team and we have to be able to depend on one another. Oh, and if you're found hindering a member of the group, it's the same punishment. Work hard and if you need, get help. Understand?"

Khael could feel Jamin's hand trembling on his shoulder. He turned and looked at his friend. "You'll be fine," he said quietly.

Jamin shook his head. "I hope so. I don't want to let anyone down."

Khael gave Jamin his gentlest smile and kissed him. "We'll work it out."

"Shieldmates?" the largest of their group asked, walking up to them.

The term sounded vaguely familiar. "What's that? Oh, I'm Khael and this is Jamin."

"Wils," the other boy said. "Y'know, lovers and battle partners."

Khael and Jamin exchanged a look. "Works for me," Jamin said, shrugging.

"I'd say that's a yes," Khael said. "Why?"

Wils gave the two of them a look and sighed. "Shame. I was hoping-"

Jamin looked over at Khael who shrugged. "What's wrong with a trio?"

"What's wrong with fifteen?" Khael muttered. He didn't think he could be heard.

Wils must have heard him because he broke out into a laugh. "I like that. The group that loves its way to safety."

Their group did well for the first week. Khael, to his surprise, discovered that the training came to him easily. The hand-to-hand combat didn't surprise him that much. Although he'd always intended on becoming a scientist, his parents had believed that a well-rounded life was essential and had always insisted on physical exercise and time spent outdoors. His ability with weapons was a little more surprising. His parents forbade violent games, which hadn't stopped him from playing them, but they had encouraged games that emphasized eye-hand coordination. As long as he didn't think of what they were training for, he was having fun.

At the end of the week, the head trainer reviewed everyone's progress. He singled out half a dozen of the recruits as needing extra work. The next morning, all six were at morning exercises, bruised and favouring parts of their body. No one said anything, but it frightened Khael; it had been the people they had to rely on to do that to them.

Jamin, on the other hand, was struggling. He'd planned on becoming an artist, but had never spent any time on physical exercise, so he had trouble with the hand-to-hand training. Those weapons that just involved aiming, he did all right with, but he didn't have the physical strength for the techniques that needed it. He managed to keep up for the first week but, as the second week started, he began falling behind. Khael did what he could to help him along, but Jamin just couldn't seem to pick it up.

At the end of the second week, when the head instructor reviewed the recruits' progress, Khael held his breath. Unfortunately, the instructor indicated that Jamin was one of the ones who needed extra work, on his hand-to-hand.

After dinner, Thal gathered everyone together in their quarters. Jamin stood at strict attention, his face pale but calm. Thal looked at him and nodded, seeming to approve. "We've been negligent in our assistance of our fellow recruit, haven't we?"

A chorus of "Yes!" answered him.

"Does anyone think they've done everything possible to help?"

No one answered. Khael had no idea what more he could have done, but he'd learned enough to know not to break unity. Arless, one of the few aliens in the camp, spoke up. "Boeshane's gone above and beyond and hasn't taken a single break all week, sir!" he said.

Khael noticed out of the corner of his eye that not only was no one disagreeing, several of the group were nodding their heads agreeing. Thal, his face back to the blank expression he usually wore, looked at Jamin. "Do you agree with that assessment?"

Jamin nodded. "Everything possible."

Thal nodded and looked at Khael. "You can excuse yourself; you've done your job," he said.

Khael really didn't want to be involved in hurting Jamin, but he also knew how important sticking together as a team was. He took a deep breath and said, "Clearly I haven't."

Thal's smile was thin, but genuine. "Good man," he said, while the others stomped their feet in approval. He turned to Jamin and said, "Anything on your person you value that can be broken, take it off now."

Jamin shook his head. "Nothing," he said.

"Job is hand-to-hand," Thal said. "When you've learned it, we'll stop."

Khael had no idea how long the "lesson" lasted. He knew better than to pull his punches, but he tried to keep to things he knew Jamin could defend against. In the small area of the quarters, stray hits landed where they weren't supposed to; all of them were sporting bruises by the time Thal called a halt. "You'll be retested at the end of next week; how will you do?"

Jamin's answer was panted out, but he sounded almost triumphant. "Excellent, sir!"

With a roll of his eyes, Thal said, "See that you pass. You know who to go to for help now, yes?"

"Yes, sir," Jamin said.

"Boeshane!" Thal called.

"Yes, sir!" Khael said, his stomach twisting.

"Ask for help next time, yes?"

Khael nodded, his face burning in shame.

"Good. Take him to the infirmary; I think his ribs need looking at." Thal smiled. "Stay with him if he needs it, yes?"

The infirmary's medic was waiting; Jamin was the last of the group that had been singled out. The others had already been treated and were in beds; they all looked pretty miserable. The medic who was treating Jamin looked bored with the process; to Khael's relief, Jamin didn't seem to be too badly off. With a frown, the medic asked, "Whose group are you in?"

"Thal's," Jamin answered.

The medic nodded. "Thought as much," he muttered. Then he closed up the treatment unit. "You can spend the night here, or you can go back; your choice." Clearly, he was used to his patients choosing to spend the night in the comparative safety of the infirmary.

"Thanks, I'll go back," Jamin said, heading out of the infirmary quickly.

Khael said, "Thanks," quickly and followed his friend out. When he caught up to Jamin, he asked, "Why didn't you spend the night in the infirmary?"

"Because our group really cares," Jamin answered. "You were too busy feeling, well, whatever, but they really were trying to help. Tomorrow during our free time, I'm asking Wils to walk through some of the techniques he was using. He knows what he's doing."

"Oh," Khael said and was quiet the rest of the way back. Jamin didn't seem to mind; he chattered about whatever wandered into his head. When they got back, though, he looked at Khael. "Spend the night in my bunk?" he asked.

Khael nodded, glad he could do something to help.

Khael woke up, expecting to see one of the ship's rooms; instead, he was in a bunk in quarters that looked a lot like those at the refugee camp but with much less clutter. He sat up, looking around in confusion.

Around him, other boys just like him were sitting up, looking confused as well. Jamin stared at Khael, "What's going on?'

Khael shook his head. "No idea. What happened to the ship?"

A minute later, another boy like them rushed in. "This is the training camp; none of us know how we got here, but there's no one in charge. The instructors and officers and such are gone. Everyone get dressed and meet in the meeting hall; we're discussing what we should do."

It took almost an hour to collect everyone in the main hall. From what Khael could see, they had made it to the training camp, but he didn't know how or when. He noticed that there wasn't anyone in charge in the main hall. Several of the recruits had looked, but they had only found other recruits. Finally, one of the other recruits, a large young man who had been in Khael and Jamin's room, stood up. "Maybe this is a test to see how we react without officers around."

This made a certain amount of sense. "The first thing we need to do then is to find out where we are and what the situation is."

They decided to divide themselves up into the same groups they had woken up in. Khael's group started on the first level under the ground level and started mapping. They'd been at it for almost three hours, enough time to be really thinking about finding some food, when the speakers turned on. "Everyone, get back to the main hall. We have trouble!'

They assembled much more quickly this time. Someone had figured out how to connect the display at the front of the hall into the camp's scanners. They showed a group of eight ships, moving in on the camp. On one pop-up display in the lower right corner was a list of armaments, including how many were active. Khael did a quick calculation; there was enough to destroy the camp if it was all deployed.

He wasn't the only one who was able to figure that out. Everyone began talking at once. Finally, one of the recruits stood up. "My name is Bren Domiden, and we're all in the same situation. We have to work together. I know we haven't started training, but some of us may know how some of this works. If you can work the comps, go over there. If you can work the scanners, over there. Does anybody know how to work weapons?"

"Only in a game," someone said.

The recruit standing shrugged. "Good enough for me. If you can't work any of this, go over there."

There was some shoving, and a couple of the other recruits complained about the one who'd taken charge, but Khael refused to put up with it. "If we don't want to die, we have to work together. His orders make sense; I'll back him up." Once he'd said something, others around him agreed; the complaints began to die down.

Khael didn't know much about weapons, but he did understand the basic physics and engineering behind them. He did understand the comps; he decided to join that group. It, and the one for those who didn't know how to operate any of the essential equipment, were the two largest groups. Bren shook his head and stood in the front. "Can any of you do anything but comps?"

Khael shrugged and raised his hand. "I know some physics and engineering." Others came up with other knowledge. Finally, Bren started sending people to where their abilities could be used.

Khael went to the weapons area. He really didn't know much about how to use the weapons on either side, but he knew enough about the science of them to be able to determine which of their weapons would be the most effective where, and the best way to avoid the invaders. They spent hours at it, trading off breaks as needed. Some of the others brought food, that they'd found somewhere. They also tried to communicate with the invaders; it was possible that they weren't opponents, that they were trying to help. There was no response, except for an occasional weapon strike. It didn't take many of those to decide that the invaders were the enemy.

Almost two days after they'd first woken, the first of the invading ships landed. A party went out to meet them. Khael was in it; Jamin, to his relief, wasn't. They'd found hand weapons and went to where the enemy had landed. When the invaders came out of their ship, they were armed and looking around, but they didn't seem to think there was much danger. Khael and the other recruits killed the entire landing party within minutes, then boarded the ship and began firing on the aliens that hadn't tried to leave. They were aliens, tall and thin; their skin was covered in a substance that looked something like feathers and something like scales. The landing party had been dressed in what looked like standard coveralls, but those left behind were dressed more simply, in what appeared to be loincloths. They killed them all, and began trying to understand how their ship worked. If they could take the fight to the invaders, it would be better than waiting.

While one team was trying to figure out the ship, another was shooting at the invaders still in range of the camp. They'd been able to shoot several down, but, after losing about half of their force, the remaining ships left. The recruits spent another day waiting for the invaders to return or for help to arrive. That night, they put a skeleton crew on the scanners and went to sleep.

Khael woke up the next morning feeling a little disoriented. On the one hand, he was expecting a strange place, where he was under attack. On the other, he was expecting the training camp. In a flash, he sat up and began to run for the meeting hall. No matter what, they were still under attack!

Bren was already there as were some of the others, but Khael didn't seem to be running too late. As Khael opened his mouth to start asking questions, Bren raised his hand and shook his head. "Let's wait until everyone's here," he said, sounding weary. "I'd prefer not to have to keep repeating myself."

Khael checked the screens, but there were none of the enemy ships in sight. Although no one else seemed to be doing much, Khael found himself regularly checking the screens, and the more specific scanners. His home on the Peninsula had assumed that they weren't in danger. He'd never make that mistake again.

It took almost an hour for everyone to assemble. Once they had, Bren stood from his chair and said, "Our instructors are being treated for the same virus we've been suffering from; they'll be returning within the day. We aren't under attack-apparently, we never really were-but we're being kept in quarantine until the medics are sure this virus isn't contagious. Until then, we're to take it easy, leave the equipment alone and stay out of trouble." He shrugged. "As soon as I answer your questions, you're all dismissed to free time."

"Are we in trouble?" one of the other recruits asked. "We were trying to kill those other ships; what if they were friendly?"

"They weren't," Bren stated calmly. "They're not really enemies, but by attacking us without warning, they may as well have declared war on us. The diplomats are handling things; we were only protecting ourselves."

"What were they doing?" asked someone else.

Bren shook his head. "Testing a new weapon." After giving the hisses and shouts a bit to subside, he said, "It wasn't really intended for us; they just thought it would cause the least trouble here. I don't really understand the details; we'll be given a briefing once the quarantine is lifted."

After a few more questions that weren't really answered, they were dismissed.

Quarantine lasted three more days. Since they weren't feeling ill, Khael and Jamin decided to get all of their group very comfortable with each other in every way. It was a shame that Thal had been taken with all of the other instructors; Khael really wished he could have joined the team building exercises they were creating.

Three days later, the instructors and OITs returned, along with the head of the training camp, who gave the briefing Bren had promised. The explanation for what had happened seemed almost unbelievable, but everything Khael could find confirmed it.

The Sivans were a race that had not been descended from predators and, therefore, had no innate aggressiveness. After they had been invaded and subjected by several different aggressive races, they put their formidable intelligence to developing the ability to fight. Once they had accomplished this, they were able to successfully defend their homeworld and, eventually the colonies they had created.

One of their more distant colonies was on a world that another species was also trying to colonize. Both races had similar backgrounds, but instead of cooperating, had declared war on each other. In the hopes of defeating their enemies, the Sivans had developed a virus that was programmed to suppress all of the victim's memory to a time before any military training had occurred. The intention was to prevent their opponents from fighting back.

Wary of testing the virus on themselves, and having little ability to test it on their opponents, the Sivans decided to test it on a race they had few dealings with. The training camp had been chosen because the recruits would only be losing a little memory, memory that could be easily recreated if necessary. Although the Sivans and humans did interact, neither race knew the other very well. If the humans became upset at the Sivans' actions, they assumed they could just end all interaction without any threat of war.

It hadn't occurred to the Sivans that a race descended from predators, one which was naturally aggressive, would be able to effectively fight back even without military training. Instead of confused, frightened youngsters who could be easily herded and subdued, they found themselves required to fight the untrained human youngsters. In fact, with the exception of one recruit who had been trying to determine why his weapon didn't fire and killed himself, several bumps and bruises from recruits trying to operate machinery they didn't understand, and more severe illness in a few of the older instructors than they had expected, there were no human casualties. On the other hand, the Sivans lost half of the force they'd sent to observe and protect the "defenceless" recruits.

In the end, the Sivans gave an apology to the military that ran the training camp, agreeing that they had been the aggressors. They also withdrew their demand that the recruits be accused of war crimes for their attacks against the soldiers who had had no intention of fighting; it was pointed out that it was their actions that had produced the situation in the first place.

A week later, after the head instructor reviewed everyone's progress one last time, they were told they were finished and their assignments would be handed out the next day. Groups were sent out together with their OIT in charge. Khael's group was assigned to a troop carrier that was taking worlds back from the invaders. It was considered one of the more dangerous assignments; the only ones more dangerous were those trying to find the invaders' home world. Khael didn't really care; he just wanted to fight and, if he could, look for survivors taken from the battlefields.