Chapter Six: Life in Transition
The first day
Breakfast was, for the most part, uneventful. Eric ate some cereal—Honey Nut Flakes—while his bunkmates in the cafeteria chatted about what they did before enlisting here and why they joined. Come to think of it, Eric noticed he hadn't seen Arthur anywhere. Eric was thankful for it, sure, but he couldn't help but wonder if Arthur was just too scared to confront him after yesterday's incident. He hoped that was the case.
As if on cue, he was called to the infirmary. It was the same procedure as before: follow the green light on the floor. As if he had anything better to do.
Inside the whitewashed room, the floor, the ceiling, and the walls surrounding him were a bunch of empty seats and beds. There were health monitors at each bed whereas the seats strongly resembled the ones at Red Cross facilities. Upon making that comparison, Eric winced and recalled the time he passed out when he donated blood for the first time.
There was a man with dark-brown hair in a white lab coat standing by a desk, his skin a warm beige. He turned away from an orange screen mounted on the desk, showing an angular face with a crooked mouth and a thin nose. His ears were rather floppy and wide.
"Hey, mornin'." The man smiled and waved. "Dr. Bales. I presume you're Eric Grimes?" Eric nodded in response. With that, he stood up and looked over at a machine by a nearby chair. "Here for your gene enhancement? Hope it's not as humiliating as your haircut. You had a haircut, right?"
"My hair's pretty short enough as it is." Eric curled his mouth. "Anyways, so what needs to be done?" Back home, the ethics behind the use of gene enhancement was heavily debated, exploring the potential for good for humanity. It would eradicate diseases, make people healthier, get rid of genetic defects, and slow down or even stop aging altogether. On the other hand, enhancements could be exploited, either the rich keeping it for themselves or by totalitarian regimes to create super soldiers.
But here, as far as he knew, genetic enhancement was a non-issue. The use of it was widespread, too, mainly for modifying and enhancing genes, as the name would imply. But not to add new effects.
"It involves epigenetics." Dr. Bales placed a syringe in one of the seat's machinery. "Do you know what it is?"
"Um…" Eric squinted his eyes as he snapped his fingers together. "It's something to the effect of hacking our genetic code. That right?"
"That's the tip of the iceberg," said the doctor, nodding along. "It's also where individual genes can be turned off or on. This shot I just installed…" he tapped at the syringe in the machine's blocky arm. "…will enhance your genes responsible for things like your hand-eye coordination. Your body can also take in greater amounts of protein, which means that your muscle mass can develop at a faster rate. On the downside, you'll have to eat more often because of higher metabolism."
Eric winced again. Always the damn syringes. "Okay, how much would my metabolism burn?" he asked, hoping to stay focused.
Dr. Bales curled his lips, thinking. "About 3,000 calories for the average soldier. As for biotics, they tend to consume around a thousand or so more." Then he noticed Eric's nervousness by how he was looking away and how his hands were fidgeting.
He sighed. "Eric, I understand you're not really thrilled about it. Every patient I've talked to, they're not thrilled about it either, but they go through with it. You know what happens after you take this shot?"
Eric nodded. "A sore arm," he remarked. "It'll hurt like hell, though."
"Pretty much." The Alliance doctor shrugged off with a hearty chuckle. "Okay, so… just relax, and everything will be okay. It's not like you're getting shot. By someone with a gun."
Eric gave the doctor a dirty look. "That's not helping, y'know."
"Sorry."
Eric sat and laid back in the comfy leather chair. More than comfortable, with small vibrations traveling down his back. Dr. Bales inputted a command on the machine's screen. The arm whirred to life and plunged the syringe into Eric's left shoulder. For a moment, it hurt like hell, as the needle was burrowed into his muscles like an ant digging a hole.
After a few long seconds, it was over. The machine drew the syringe away, and the good doctor applied a tiny amount of medi-gel to seal the wound. Aside from his arm being sore, he didn't feel any different. Like vaccines, the effects of the gene enhancement would develop over time.
"And done. Was that so bad?"
Eric sat up from the chair with a sigh of relief. "Thanks." He shook Dr. Bales's hand and went to the exit.
"Don't forget that Basic Training starts tomorrow."
Eric turned and looked back at him as the door parted open. "Yeah, I know." He nodded almost bitterly. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he'll have to grit his teeth and bear with it.
The first week…
Eric's heart raced. He could hear his blood come rushing in as he stepped into the firing range. He wasn't looking forward to screwing up in front of people.
The walls around him were clean and whitewashed, the floor a metallic shade of gray. The bright lights on the ceiling and the walls gave him the idea the Alliance had ripped Apple off.
He and a few dozen other recruits as their brunette, tawny-beige-skinned instructor lecturing them about how to handle a gun. Specifically, a pistol.
"This here is a Kessler pistol, made by Hadre-Kedar." The instructor had an accent, though Eric couldn't point what exactly. It sounded Asian. The compact, black-and-gray pistol rested in her palms as she circled the room, showing it to each of the recruits. Some of them oohed as they leaned in closer.
"It takes about eighteen shots, give or take, before it overheats," she continued. "The Kessler pistol is a fairly accurate and reliable sidearm. It's an ideal weapon for any military personnel, ranging from your common soldier to a techie to even a biotic. Anyone who happens to be a biotic, please raise your hands, and then the person standing next to you with the power of your mind."
A few of them laughed.
"Allow me to demonstrate how to use it."
The instructor walked to one of the firing range spots and pressed a flashing green button on the side. A short distance away, a tile from the ceiling slid open, and a target descended. It was a typical silhouette with white circles on its chest and a red dot at the center.
The instructor gripped the pistol in both hands, her finger alongside the trigger. Her left foot was in front with her right foot back, her elbows slightly bent, and her back was straight. She fired one shot, which hit the target close to the center. Then she shot four more times in rapid succession, each one close to the center.
With that finished, she placed the pistol on a nearby table and turned around to them. "Anybody wanna volunteer?"
No one uttered a word or even moved.
"Anyone?" She shrugged a little, surprised.
Eric sighed and rolled his eyes. Apparently, he had to do it. He stepped forward. The instructor pressed the button again, replacing the bullet-ridden target with a fresh one.
She handed the pistol over to him. "Now, before you do something stupid—"
A shot rang out as the gun slipped out of Eric's hand. It clattered on the floor. Eric grunted in pain as he rubbed his wrist. The shot only hit the target in the groin area.
"Nice shootin', Tex!" someone commented.
Some of them stifled their laughs, not wanting to incur the instructor's wrath upon them. All he could do was look around and give out a little smirk.
"My finger slipped," he admitted.
The instructor crossed her arms with a frown on her face, unamused by the notion.
"I joke as much as anyone else, but do you all think this is a laughing matter?" The instructor faced the group and the ones laughing stopped. Even the smirk on Eric's face went away as he stood up straight.
"N-no, ma'am!" Eric answered. "I meant no disrespect!"
The instructor turned towards him. "Good. If you can't handle a gun properly, you might as well get killed on the battlefield. Understand?"
Eric gulped, nodding. His hands shook, his wrist still hurting from the gun's recoil. At least the pain was slowly receding.
What would Papá think of me, here in the military screwing up? He lowered his head in shame. He had to remind himself of his family again…
"Um… can I go to the restroom?" he asked.
The instructor curled her lips before nodding. "Thirty minutes."
Eric wasted no time getting out of the room, zipping past the instructor and the other recruits.
He passed by anyone despite their posts of him running in the hallway, making a beeline for the nearest restroom. Once inside the recently cleaned room. He looked around. No one stood at the urinals, no one inside the stalls. It was silent here. No water dripping in the sink, no pipes tapping inside the walls. He was all alone here.
He looked at the time on his omni-tool. "Twenty minutes," he muttered.
He walked over to one of the sinks, as if in a daze, and stared at the mirror mounted on the dark-gray wall. Instead of dark hair reaching past his ears, it was a crew cut, a few days fresh. That wasn't the only thing different about him.
Upon pulling his lower eyelid down, he noticed a red line developing in the middle of his right eye. Even on a good day, Eric had difficulty sleeping. Not since he got separated from his family.
He lowered his head, his hands planted on the edges of the sink, thinking over the instructor's words.
"If you can't handle a gun, you might as well get killed on the battlefield."
His arms began to shake. "Dios mío, I'm not cut out for military stuff," he said to his reflection, his voice was starting to break. "I'm not sure if I'm good at anything, really." He paused before looking up in the mirror. "I only got good grades in high school because I got lucky. I screw up a lot, and me slipping up on using a pistol cemented that. I could've gotten myself, or anyone hurt. Maybe killed. I got chewed out for it." He shrugged. "Guess I deserved it." He slowly wheeled his head around like a barrel. "I couldn't find a way back home. Hell, I'm not even sure if that orb's there, at Angkor Wat." He sniffed, holding back tears.
He leaned forward, his eyes now welling up as his cheeks turned pink. "Please, God... You created my universe—maybe this one, too." He locked his fingers together and rested them against his forehead. "Would it hurt to help out someone as small and insignificant as me?" He hated getting desperate like this.
Nothing.
He threw his arms back, scoffing. "Figures."
Something chimed from his omni-tool.
The sound continued as he turned his omni-tool on. A line going across the middle of a screen above his forearm vibrated in response to a voice coming from the other end.
"Hey, hey, Eric!" It was from Luke.
Eric cursed, startled. "Look this is a bad time."
"What's goin' on?" Luke asked, concerned.
"First off, I'm in a restroom. Second—"
"Shit, sorry." Eric heard Luke puffing his cheeks and sighing. "Want me to call you back later?"
Eric paused, staring off at a wall to his right with a sullen look. "I just…" He sighed. "I just had a shitty start of a day."
"Everybody has a bad day now and then," Luke replied. "Hell, I have some myself. Some worse than others. Some of it was funny in hindsight."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Luke responded. "It's pretty obvious you're still having it rough at the academy. The first few weeks of training were hell for me, believe me. Yet, I persisted." He paused before continuing. "Lemme guess, is that what you're going through right now?"
"You could say that," Eric answered, hesitant.
"Look, not everybody succeeds on their first try," Luke said. "You'll make it through this, no matter what. You got your boyfriend with you, y'know. It was my idea and all. And he would hate to see you like this."
Eric scoffed. "Oh c'mon, he wasn't with me right now," he shot back.
Luke let out a small chuckle. "Well, still. You know what I mean, man. Just take care of yourself, okay? I don't want to see you all burned out."
"Yeah, okay. And thanks for the talk," Eric responded.
"Anytime." There was some other noise. It was somewhat inaudible, but after a bit, it was clear it was Natalie saying something. "Crap, gotta go!"
With that, Eric said goodbye and ended the link. He checked the time on his omni-tool, only for his eyes to widen.
"Dios mío! Five minutes?!" He muttered and made a beeline back to the shooting range.
When he made it back, he found most of the other recruits were already firing at their targets. He should consider himself fortunate these firearms weren't as loud as the guns back in his own universe, now he thought about it.
The instructor was waiting by an empty booth, her arms crossed with a look nothing short of serious.
"You barely made it on time," she warned as Eric approached the booth. "Better get a move on with your break next time, soldier."
"Yes, ma'am!" Eric whipped up a salute. "Won't be a problem."
Before Eric could grab the gun, the instructor asked, "Do you understand why I was so harsh on you?"
He didn't answer.
Her expression remained unchanged. "Because what I'm trying to teach you is important. I'm trying to help you. It's not like we're a game where you die and respawn or reload from an earlier save, or a movie where the good guy does something stupid and lives to tell the tale. You're not a cowboy. You're becoming a soldier. It's best to act like it. Understand?" Her tone was less harsh than before.
"Yes. I understand," Eric acknowledged.
He lifted the gun and aimed down the sight. His arms went straight in front of him, his footing even. The instructor noticed this and corrected his stance to match her from earlier, except his right foot was in front, as he was right-handed. The way she did it reminded him of his father showing him how to hold a gun at a firing range not far from home. "This is the modified Weaver stance. We've been using it for centuries, to reduce the recoil of each shot. No reason to change it, in my opinion. Call me old-fashioned."
Eric steadied his aim as he exhaled sharply. "Think I'm ready, ma'am?"
"You look ready," the instructor said with a nod.
With a confident look, he fired the pistol three times. One hit the left shoulder, the second below the neck and closer to the center, and the third in the head. It was then his smile faded, and he was about ready to drop his head in disappointment.
"Don't beat yourself up over it," she said, "despite what happened with that screw-up of yours. Not everyone nails it on the first few tries. With enough practice, you'll go far. Everybody does."
She turned back to the other recruits as Eric continued firing, abet slowly to make sure got it right this time.
The first month…
A right hook had left Eric's face exposed, and a fist collided with it, sending him backward toward the edge of the platform as his head twisted to the left. His brain rattled from the impact he stumbled, dazed.
It was hand-to-hand-combat training, and Eric thought he had it rough when he struggled through the obstacle course the other day. Many of the cadets here were placed into groups of pairs. Unfortunately for Eric, he happened to be paired with Arthur Mallon.
He stood back up, his fists up and his left foot upfront. His face twisted into a scowl as Arthur looked back with a shit-eating grin on his face.
"C'mon, I dare ya!" Arthur beckoned.
It was almost tempting to wipe that smile off the bastard's face. For weeks, Eric had to endure with Arthur's behavior. Annoying pranks like being slapped after being misdirected, witnessing Arthur's disruptive attitudes, and shoving round in the hallway between training sessions. Every time Arthur was seemingly disciplined by his superiors, he always happened to bounce back. And here Arthur said this was a military training facility, not high school.
Eric took a deep breath; he had to focus. He put up an attempt at a defensive stance, both of his wrist blocking his view. If he struck first again, Arthur would easily deflect that blow as well.
All mirth faded away from Arthur's face as he readied his combat stance. "Fine, your funeral." Unlike Eric's, he put his left palm close to his face, his right arm stretching forward.
He charged, and Eric found himself overwhelmed by the barrage of punches and kicks. Every time he blocked or deflected Arthur's strike, his arms hurt and ache more and more. He nearly stumbled twice when he was once again near the edge of the platform, skirting by the ropes. Was he here to show what he learned, or did he sign up for a boxing match?
Out of nowhere, something heavy slammed against Eric's side. He let out a gasp, his eyes becoming wide as his lungs tried to suck the air back in. He grabbed one of the ropes to maintain his balance and gazed at Arthur's risen leg.
"Told ya," he grinned and approached Eric. "You left your tummy open."
Eric blinked and heaved. Was it just him or did Arthur grew half a foot all a sudden?
Never mind that, he told himself and leaped at Arthur. He ducked a right hook and wrapped his arm around Arthur's shoulders from behind. His opponent grunted and struggled, grabbing Eric's arms but it was too late for him. Eric dragged him to the ground face down. In a swift motion, Eric twisted his right arm, keeping him in place.
Even Eric surprised himself. He couldn't believe he could pin a man bigger than him down, let alone anyone, really. He was breathing hard, covered in sweat like a blanket around him, and his entire body shook. He wanted this done.
"Ready to give up?" Eric asked through clenched teeth.
Arthur grumbled and nodded, now seeing defeat.
One of the instructors nearby tapped his omni-tool and approached the ring.
"Alright, you two. That's enough." The instructor's Middle Eastern accent was clear. He climbed up and prompted Eric to let Arthur go. With that done, Arthur crawled up to his knees and turned, his bruised face fuming red.
"Need help?" Eric bent down and offered a hand. As much as he hated the prick, he couldn't bring himself to stripe Arthur more of his dignity. He didn't see himself as that kind of person.
That moment of sympathy was in vain, as Arthur swept away his hand and went up to his feet. He marched past them, leaving the ring without saying a word.
"Wha… what was that for?" Eric asked, confused.
The instructor stopped him. "That was pretty rough. You should check up at the medbay."
"What about him?!" Eric protested as he watched Arthur ready to leave. "If he could so kindly explain to me what his beef with me is, that'll be nice!"
Arthur came to an abrupt stop and looked over his shoulder, frowning. "Piss off. I'm not telling you squat!"
Eric could only drop his jaw to the floor as Arthur and the others left the room, stomping all the while. He muttered a Spanish curse, also leaving the ring as he shook his head. "So what'll happen next?" he asked the instructor.
"I'll notify your superiors, see if they can get this mess sorted out," the instructor answered.
Eric nodded without looking back. It wasn't like Arthur would stop being an asshole anytime soon, but it should be worth a try.
Three months later…
Eric's eyes fluttered open, his head resting on the left window. He straightened up, the smudge from his breath vanishing in an instant.
"Rise and shine, handsome," Garrett smiled, looking at him with a warm smile, suitable for the weather. He had squeezed in the back, sitting to the right of Eric with Luke and Natalie upfront. Over Garrett's casual overalls was a black jacket with a fluffy hood.
Eric yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Huh? How long did I sleep for?"
"Not that long."
"Really? Weird. Dios, it felt like forever since I slept that well."
Luke laughed as he turned to face Eric. "That must've been a hell of a nap you got there!"
"I'll bet," Eric agreed.
The engine hummed softly as the skycar flew above the snowy wetlands. The sky above was spotty with thick clouds all about, like anyone would see a pattern on a cheetah or a Dalmatian. Eric wasn't wrapped on the current events in Cambodia, he wasn't certain if his universe's counterpart went down a similar path. As far as he knew, there were a series of riots and wars revolving around its integration with the Chinese People's Federation.
"Lucky for you, you slept through most of the trip," Natalie said, driving the skycar. "We're almost to the temple."
Not long before completing his basic training, Eric learned why the conversation short three months ago was cut short because Natalie was pregnant. With twins, in fact; they were due in June next year.
A card wouldn't be a bad idea. It'll be a nice thing to do, Eric considered at the time. He should make a mental note of it.
He looked outside and spotted a series of structures just out in the distance, larger than any monument of the ancient world he had ever seen. The closer the vehicle went, the more imposing those structures became, especially with the sandstone towers from the center casting a great shadow from the south.
Eric noticed several additional buildings surrounding the temple. They weren't there the last time he had been to the temple. The newer ones shared that same slick, monolithic design from the Citadel, the older ones blocky and egalitarian. What was more was the additional people below, likely going about their business. A few of them were even members of other species, mainly turians.
The temple had outlasted the empire that built it along with countless wars that followed. With numerous restoration teams at work over many years, they ensured it would endure for many more years to come.
Incredible how things remain the same, no matter what changed, Eric mused to himself. Too bad that'll likely be wiped away by the Reapers.
People argued that Angkor Wat should be the eighth wonder of Earth. After all these years, Eric would still agree.
The vehicle landed at a café. Eric stepped out with the others, only to stop when his head wheeled in dizzying motion. A wave of memories and the emotions that came with them flooded into his mind.
His brother kicking in the dirt, exchanging quips and jokes with his sister. Family photos were taken by the bridge to the temple. Exploring the temple, seeing the sights.
And the orb. Bright lights emitting from the translucent object. Eric screaming as a jolt of electricity coursed through his body. He could do it, echoing in his mind.
His heart ached, his head throbbing. He missed his family. Their hopes and dreams crushed with him gone. No moments of them being proud of him at MIT. Nothing to show off his education and knowledge.
Why did Natalie and Luke bring him here? He told himself he could handle it after months of grueling exercises and training at an Alliance facility.
"Eric? Eric!" A hand on his shoulder.
Eric came to and gasped, turning at Natalie with a blank look.
"You were just standin' around, staring at that temple," Garrett said, the worry in his voice palpable. "Is something the matter?"
Eric breathed, steadying his heart rate. He realized he had experienced an episode of déjà vu. He should be ashamed of himself. He thought he could get over it, as time could heal all wounds. "Yeah. Yeah." He blinked a few times, his lips pressing together. "Let's just get something to eat for lunch. Or breakfast. Time zones, right?"
He paced past the others and entered the café at a moment's notice, ignoring the scent of grease lingering in the air. He slumped on the nearest unoccupied seat available and waited. He whipped out a set of earpieces and turned on some music from his omni-tool, drowning out the chatter around him.
Electric guitar riffs. David Bowie singing.
I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing, will drive them away
We can beat them, just for one day
We can be heroes, just for one day
"Oh yeah, that's the stuff," Eric muttered to no one and smiled.
At the corner of his eye, he saw a waiter with a screen from his omni-tool on hand. He mouthed off something, probably asking him for his order. He said nothing, nodding slowly as if in tune. The waiter sighed, irritated at the lack of response, and walked away.
He relaxed, slumped backward, and closed his eyes with a deep sigh. His mind began to drift away as if it wanted to get away from a bad place. The music helped him a little.
A hand tapped on his shoulder. He turned around and saw a rather worried Luke by his spot, flanked by Garrett and Natalie. Luke gestured to Eric to remove some imaginary object out of his ear. It took him a few seconds to realize Luke was referring to his earbuds. He paused his music and removed said earbuds as Luke and Natalie sat down across from Eric. Natalie was closer to the window.
"Um…" Garrett stood around rather awkwardly, pressing his lips together.
"Oh! Sorry, Garrett," Eric replied and scooted closer to the window.
With that, Garrett sat down next to Eric. "But c'mon, man. What's wrong? You can talk to me about anything."
Eric stayed quiet, even as he stared right into Garrett's blue eyes. He wanted to tell his boyfriend the truth. Where he came from, how he got here, and the fact that this very universe they all reside in was originally one created by the collaborations of other people from his world. It would get so much off his chest it wasn't even funny.
Still, no words came out. He couldn't bring himself to do it, as some part of his conscience reminded him it would be a cruel thing to do, however insane that would be.
"He had some pretty bad memories here, Garrett," Natalie said. "I don't think any of us know they would resurface."
"I…" Eric finally spoke. He sighed. He should thank Natalie later. "It's alright, Natalie. I don't want to talk about it, okay?"
What was he thinking? He didn't have déjà vu as he first thought. Rather, it was likely he had PTSD. He should go see a therapist soon if only to confirm his self-diagnosis.
Garrett exhaled. "Okay, cool. I understand. Privacy and all, right?"
"I guess," Eric replied.
It was then Garrett gently grasped his hand and stared straight into his eyes. "Eric, you remember what I said back four months ago at the recruitment center?"
Eric smiled. If only he could see the blush on his face. 'Yeah, I do. No matter what, you're with me. I love you." He took a deep breath. It was like a great weight had fallen off his chest.
"Something like that. And I love you, too."
"Yep, and there are me and Nat you have to deal with," Luke interjected. Natalie gave him an approving look. "You're not alone here. And besides, I heard you did pretty good in basic training."
"I did?" Eric asked as he gently escaped his boyfriend's grip. He had to admit, he was surprised. He feared he wasn't cut out for the military. "Well, I… thanks and all. I think I need to hear that."
"I saw you messing around with your omni-tool," Natalie commented as he leaned forward. "Ever thought about enlisting under the Engineer AIT?"
"You mean advanced training?" Eric asked. Natalie nodded, and he turned to Luke. "Hey Luke, how long does advanced training take again?"
"Um…" Luke rubbed his chin before counting his fingers. "Several months, I think. But some courses are exclusive to biotics—"
"You know I'm not a biotic," Eric chuckled.
Luke puffed his cheeks. "Right. My mouth went ahead of my brain, sorry about that."
A brief pause. "So Engineering for me, right?" Eric asked.
"That's right," Luke confirmed. "You seemed like a good fit. What about you, Garrett?"
"You're kidding, right?" Garrett scoffed. "I'm big and loud." He palmed his chest as if to prove a point.
"Soldier, then."
"That's kinda redundant, but okay. What next?"
"Well, you two might be going to separate facilities, so you're not gonna see each other for a while," Luke explained. "It's a bummer, I know."
Eric's heart dropped like a bag of rocks, a sullen look appearing on his face. "But what about using comm channels? Taking breaks?"
"Yeah, something like that. Silver lining, huh?"
Garrett and Eric exchanged looks. For a moment, it felt like an eternity. "So… another kiss for luck?" Garrett asked. "I don't think we'll get another chance."
Eric nodded, and his lips pressed against Garrett's. It was longer than usual. Sweet and a little wet. He could taste a bit of mint lingering in Garrett's breath.
"Brushed your teeth again?" Eric asked as they parted.
"Yeah. Miniaturized mass effect fields as usual. And toothpaste," Garrett answered with a smile.
Eric smiled back. "I didn't know you could do that."
"You do now, love."
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all, visiting Angkor Wat, Eric thought. A shiver went down his spine, the fear of seeing the orb again lingering in his mind, but it was small enough for him to ignore and put aside for now. I mean, a meal and going to the temple. That's pretty cool. What's the worst that could happen?