Chapter 3: Rookie

Eleven days had passed since SJ arrived in the RAB village. In that time, he'd gotten used to the organized way the RABs lived.

Each morning, wake up was at 0700, and since that was a whole hour later than SJ usually got up, he was always up before everyone else. Minus the night surveillance team, that is.

Upon wake-up, the RABs would go into the eating area and have breakfast. There are three RAB cooks in the village. There's Camouflage, Cam for short, a possum who was a master of disguise. There's Rosemary, Rose for short, who's a genius when it comes to finding and using the richest herbs for both eating and medicine. And finally, there's Bay, who'd joined the RAB society only a few weeks ago and proved to be very efficient with a dicer. He used to prepare and serve food to Blowhole's army.

It was Saturday, so after breakfast, everyone gathered in the large tent that served as HQ and stood before Commander as he waited for everyone to settle themselves. When everyone quieted and stood at attention, Commander began.

"Comrades, I am pleased to inform you that Sergeant is honoring us with his presence. He will be here sometime this week," Commander informed them.

SJ leaned in a little closer to Bloom and whispered, "Who's Sergeant?"

Bloom silently shushed him by nudging him with her elbow and giving him a hard stare. SJ didn't dare go against the fire she had in her eyes.

"I recently received a call informing me of his arrival in Sri Lanka, an island just off the coast of India. He has taken to the currents of the Indian Ocean, stowing away on a shipment of weapons for Blowhole, in his quest to join us. His estimated arrival is sometime on Thursday or Friday, assuming there are no complications," Commander continued. "Now, onto other matters. I have decided that I need a group to assist me on a mission. Our surveillance team has noticed a group of sols scouring the jungle and getting dangerously close to our base. They've managed to divert their attention for now, but this will not last long. I need to know who will be willing to assist me."

Nine of the RABs raised their paws, wings, or other advantages. SJ noticed that Bloom was one of the volunteers. He would've volunteered himself if his leg was healed, though he hadn't had much combat training. For some reason, he almost felt like he had an instinct to protect. His leg had healed to the point where he could get around without a crutch, but he still had to limp. He would only slow them down.

Commander nodded. "Very well. That is all. Meeting adjourned, and those who volunteered, please stay here while we plan our attack," he ordered. The other RABs dispersed, and SJ surveyed who had stayed behind, besides Bloom.

One was a tree sparrow SJ had come to know as Chase. Chase had gotten his name from being the fastest flier out of the four total birds in the village. His task that he would normally take out would be to deliver things throughout the base and occasionally to other bases.

There were the two brown-colored hares, Skitter and Toni. Skitter was the young, agile hare whose job was to create diversions in emergency situations and making weapons. Toni — which was short for Tonic — assisted in medical areas and was an expert at making poisons, a trade he picked up working for Blowhole.

Another was a small brown mouse, Jerry. He'd gotten the name from an old, witty mouse from some extinct form of entertainment called "television." He'd been told that some sort of showing was named Tom and Jerry and the mouse, Jerry, always outwitted the cat, Tom. SJ had never heard of it, but he just had to take their word for it.

Spike — who was a porcupine who'd gotten his name for obvious reasons — was excellent in foraging and surveillance. Though, there was something that SJ didn't like about the guy. It was just the way his sharp, pointy quills sent chills down his spine. He wasn't quite sure why he felt that way, but it was something he couldn't really control for some reason.

The seventh volunteer was a gray squirrel, Sly, who'd gotten his name from being the most sneaky, cunning, lightning-quick hypnosis expert in the entire RAB village. When SJ had first met him, Sly had stricken him dumbfounded from the beginning. Everything Sly had to say had some sort of twist to it, and he always acted very mysterious. Lastly, there was Bay, the new cook who hadn't gotten his nickname yet.

Commander pulled out a large, rolled up paper and opened it up on the table before he realized that SJ was still there.

"You need something, SJ?" he asked.

SJ's eyes flitted from Commander to Bloom. "Oh, no. I was just — I'll go," he said as he started for the exit as their voices faded behind him.

They left that afternoon. SJ watched as the ten of them — led by Commander — marched themselves through the village, armed at the ready, and went into the jungle.

SJ caught Bloom's eye as she passed by and she gave him a look with no emotion. He started to worry greatly about what they were throwing themselves into, but hoped they were as trained as they seemed and could handle it.

Shortly after they'd left, it was dinner time. The RABs filed into the eating area, but SJ stayed behind. Ever since the Illusion, he hadn't had as much of an appetite. Instead, he went to Einstein for his leg.

Einstein had been the doctor to treat him since he'd arrived. He was the brown-colored squirrel that he'd informally met when he'd first arrived. His nickname was given to him for his advanced intelligence. Beyond his medical services that he provided the RABs, SJ didn't really know much about him. Bloom told him that he'd had a rough past before he came here and didn't like to talk much about it. SJ wasn't sure how his past could be much worse than most, but thought it only polite to respect his wishes.

He stepped inside the medium-sized tent that he visited every other day and routinely sat on the cot as Einstein greeted him.

"How are you feeling?" Einstein asked as he examined the stitches in SJ's leg.

"Fine, for the most part," SJ answered.

"Well, there's no sign of infection and your stitches are still intact. What's troubling you?" Einstein asked, leaning against the foot end of the cot.

"Well, I don't really know. I just haven't had much of an appetite lately and I can't sleep very well," SJ explained.

Einstein gave him a look. "Really? When did this start?"

SJ thought for a moment. "Well, it started shortly after the Illusion and has just gradually been getting worse since."

"Has anything been on your mind lately?" Einstein asked.

"Not really. I mean, I've pretty much gotten used to the way things run around here. Bloom's showed me a lot of the ropes," SJ answered.

"Mm-hmm. Well, you've been thrusted into something completely new and unexpected, it's only natural that you have trouble adjusting," Einstein said.

"Well, what can I do to fix it?" SJ asked.

Einstein moved back to the other side of the tent.

"I actually think it's time you started training. Your leg has healed enough for it. It'll help it get stronger as well. And the fatigue you'll experience should help you get your appetite back and help you sleep at night," he told him.

SJ nodded. "All right. When should I start?"

"I'll let Tank know that you're ready and you can start this afternoon after supper is served," Einstein told him.

SJ nodded. "All right. Thanks," he said. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong with me?" he asked skeptically.

Einstein smiled. "Trust me. You're more than fine. You just need something to focus on," he assured him.

"All right," he said. "I guess I'll catch you later, then," he said as he started for the exit.

"Good bye, SJ," Einstein called after.

With that, SJ was gone.

— § —

Tank had certainly earned his name. He'd gotten his nickname for being probably one of the toughest RABs in the camp. He could out-bench any of them. Though he was rough during training, he was actually quite pleasant any other time.

Tank was a puffin that was just a little taller than SJ. He'd never interacted with a puffin before in his life, though the knowledge that Emperor Blowhole's second-in-command was a puffin made him uncomfortable. Though, he'd eventually shoved the thought from his mind. Just because the most well-known puffin in the world was evil, doesn't mean that all of them are. Only a paranoid person would think otherwise.

Since SJ was still recovering from his leg wound, Tank had scheduled private training for him to help him feel more comfortable.

Tank had taken him through the warm-up, which was a series of thirty sit-ups and push-ups each. As a beginning course, he took SJ through a series of effective punches and blocks and as he tested him, gradually picking up speed to improve his hand-eye coordination and speed as he progressed.

Each session lasted two hours every day after dinner. Einstein had been right about the training helping him sleep. Each day he went to his bunk exhausted from the workout. He'd experienced fatigue before — especially when he'd first started working in the mines — but never had he experienced fatigue like this. It was one thing when the soreness in his muscles was from hacking away at stone, but it was another when he was constantly falling on his back, being punched in body parts that he didn't even know he had, and working a post-recovering leg.

It was Wednesday now — four days after the group of RABs had left to deal with a fatality before it occurred. At six o'clock, SJ was once again in training. For the first ten minutes or so, he was exceptionally burning through blocks and advances. But, as always, he was knocked to the ground once again. Tank stood over him.

"Again," he ordered.

"Hold on, my leg hurts," SJ replied, gripping his healing wound.

"The enemy won't give you a breather. You need to channel all of your energy into fighting. Even pain," Tank explained. "If I contract, you expand. If I expand, you contract. We go again. On your feet," he ordered sternly. SJ obeyed. Tank did have a point. There were no time-outs in actual combat. He got to his feet and did his best to ignore the pinch of pain in his leg.

Tank advanced and SJ blocked his fist and kicked him in the stomach. With his grasp still on his flipper, he flipped him onto his back. Tank reacted instantly, jumping to his feet and turning three-sixty on his heel. SJ dodged his attack and grabbed the mounted pole in the center of the tent and corkscrewed around it and propelled himself at Tank. His feet hit his chest — sending him on his back — and deflected backward, landing on his feet.

Tank laid on the ground for a moment, the wind knocked clean out of him. SJ rushed to his side and knelt next to him.

"Tank? Tank, are you all right?" he asked.

Tank laughed slightly. "I'm fine," he said, pushing himself to his feet.

SJ pushed himself up as well. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to —"

"No, no. Don't apologize," Tank ordered with a smile. "You're improving already. You're a fast learner. Ready to go again, Private?" he asked, getting into combat position.

"Private?" SJ repeated, mirroring him.

"It's the lowest rank in the American military. If you're going to be a RAB soldier, you might as well be treated like one," Tank explained. SJ smiled.

"Private it is, then," he said. Bloom was right. A nickname makes you feel more like you belong. Tank grinned and advanced without warning, turning three-sixty on his heel and kicking under SJ's feet. SJ fell flat on his back once again.

Tank stood over him at his feet. "Well, rule number one, Private, is to expect the unexpected. If you don't expect it, then it should be expected," he said.

"And to think we were getting along for a minute there," SJ said with a smile.

Tank laughed. "Exactly my point —"

SJ caught him off guard by flipping backwards from the ground, kicking him in the jaw as he did. Tank jerked backward and rubbed his lower beak.

"Rule number one, Tank," SJ said with a devious grin, "if you don't expect it, then it should be expected."

Tank scoffed. "You really are a fast learner, aren't you," he said as more of a statement than a question.

SJ smiled boastfully. "Affirmative."

— § —

Quote: "One should expect that the expected can be prevented, but the unexpected should have been expected." ~Norman Ralph Augustine