“Hey, are you by yourself?” another young woman asked.
“Yes, it’s just me,” Catie replied.
“Same here. My folks couldn’t make it; too many kids and job responsibilities. I’m Candice Williams,” she said as she shifted her duffle bag and extended her hand.
“Alex MacGregor.” Catie grabbed the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. “My parents couldn’t make it either.”
“Do you have any idea what we’re in for?”
“I’ve been told that the next three weeks are going to rate somewhere between the sixth and seventh circles of hell,” Catie replied.
“It can’t be that bad. My uncle survived the U.S. Air Force Academy, and he said it was great.”
“I think he lied to you,” Catie said. “But I’ve been told it is much better looking back on it than it is living through it.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
Catie’s Comm buzzed. “Candidate MacGregor, proceed to the green tent.”
“I’m being called, green tent,” Catie said.
“Blue tent,” Candice said. “See you around.”
“If we’re lucky.”
◆ ◆ ◆
Catie made it to the green tent where an NCO grabbed her bag, slapped a label on it, and threw it in a pile. “Register your Comm now!” she ordered.
“Yes, Sergeant,” Catie replied. “Comm, register with Academy green tent,” Catie said, reading off the sign the NCO was pointing at.
“Comm registered.”
The sign continued to explain that once registered, their Comm would be blocked from connecting to anything except the Academy Library and the Comms of Academy personnel — no phone calls, no texts, no social media, no email, no contact with anyone outside the Academy.
“Oh great,” Catie thought.
“I can still talk to you, Cer Catie,” ADI said as if she had read Catie’s mind.
“Isn’t that against the rules?” Catie texted back.
“Only a little,” ADI said. “You are after all a Lieutenant in the Delphi Defense Force.”
“Nice to know that’s still worth something.”
“Candidate, move to the bus!” the NCO ordered.
“Yes, Sergeant!” Catie snapped back as she turned and headed to the bus.
She saw the other candidates waving at their families before they boarded the bus. Once they were on the bus, they belonged to the Academy. Their families wouldn’t see them until they completed the first three weeks, or they dropped out.
The bus drove them onto the Academy campus and parked in front of one of the dorms. “Your Comms will have your room numbers on them. Proceed to your room, change into the shipsuit that will be on your bed with your name on it, and be back here in five minutes.” The NCO at the front of the bus yelled. “Move!”
Catie hurried off the bus and walked quickly toward the dorm.
“Walk, do not run!” another NCO shouted.
Catie made it to her room, stripped and put on a shipsuit, and was pulling on her boots when her roommate arrived. All the candidates had been required to arrive the day before and report for a physical. Catie assumed that was where they got all their sizes from.
“Hey,” her roommate said as she started stripping.
“Hey, I’m Alex MacGregor.”
“Joanie McCoy.”
“I’ll see you down there,” Catie said as she ran out the door and hurried back down to the quad.
“Find a set of blue footprints to stand on,” another NCO yelled. “Move!”
Catie planted herself on a set of footprints and assumed an at-ease position and waited. More and more candidates streamed out of the dorm, to fill in the square with the footprints.
A few stragglers came in after the five minutes were up. Nothing was said as they found the last few footprints to stand on.
A tall Marine officer stepped away from a group and took up position in front of the square.
“I am Major Beckman,” he said.
“He sounds like a Marine; loud and authoritative,” Catie thought.
“I will now give you the oath. Place your hand over your heart and repeat after me . . .” The oath of office streamed across each candidate’s HUD.
“I [state your full name], having been appointed a cadet in the Delphi Defense Force, do solemnly affirm that I will support and defend the Constitution of Delphi Nation against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter.”
“You are now Plebes. You will not earn the right to be called a cadet until you finish the first phase of your training, affectionately called the Beast,” Major Beckman said. “We are here to start a proud tradition, a tradition that follows on the sacrifice made in the Paraxean war. One that will live up to the standard of our fellow Delphineans who sacrificed their lives so that Earth would remain free. Do not let them or me down.”
The major turned to the big NCO standing behind him. “They’re all yours, Sergeant Major.”
“Let’s start with a few basic rules!” the sergeant major yelled as the major headed out like there was a fire somewhere.
“There are only seven responses when you are addressed by an instructor. They are, yes, sir; no, sir; no excuse, sir; sir, may I make a statement; sir, may I ask a question; sir, I do not understand; and sir, I do not know! Is that clear?!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Do not call me sir. If you are addressed by an NCO, you will respond with their rank! Is that clear?!”
“Yes, Sergeant Major!”
“Better! Now, Plebes, stand at attention!”
Catie snapped to attention, eyes straight ahead, shoulders back, head tilted just so. She could hear instructors making their way down the line, correcting the stance of other Plebes.
“Do you call that standing at attention?” an instructor was yelling in Catie’s face. “Shoulders back! I said, shoulders back!”
Catie struggled to move her
