different from your first night in the Corps, is it?”
He thought back to the training camp in San Diego. He was a lot younger then, fresh faced and full of optimism, but the scene was just about the same. The ERC’s hall was bigger, its decorations more grandiose, but it was basically the same.
“Just you watch,” Nikitin said. “In about five minutes, some puffed up little Major will waltz up to that podium and start barking about the proud tradition of the organization. Then he’ll get all pissed off and make an example of someone. I hope it’s me. I never get to be the example.”
“Nik, you’re a constant example to us all,” Jack said, and Nikitin let out one of his belly laughs and jabbed at Jack’s shoulder.
Nikitin’s prediction came true two minutes early. A man in camo pants, combat boots and a brown tank-top marched up the center aisle. He had curly dark hair and several days worth of growth on his face. His dog-tags swung out from his chest and back again with each step, and he examined the recruits with bright wolfen eyes.
He walked to the front of the room, turned on his heel and just stood there for a long moment. It wasn’t clear whether he was gathering his breath, his thoughts, or just taking a moment to let everything sink in.
“Welcome to Al Saif,” he said finally. “I am Colonel Galili, and I’m in charge of new recruits here. First, I would like to thank each of you for coming. As you know, this is a desperate war we wage. A war that will determine the fate of our race. We will either regain our world, or we will perish and fade into the sands of history. This depends on you, and I’m glad to see so many of you pledging yourselves to the cause.”
Nikitin elbowed Jack in the ribs. “That’s a little different,” he whispered.
The colonel continued, “The invaders have struck a terrible blow to our people. Our cities are burnt. Our civilization is destroyed. What was is no more. Yet for all their strength, the enemy has made a grave oversight… They allowed us to survive. They destroyed our cities, and yet our spirit rages on, unvanquished and undying.”
He motioned to someone in the first row. “You. Tell me why you’re here tonight.”
“To kill the bastards. I’m ready to die for the cause.”
“I see,” the colonel said. “Who else feels this way?”
Hands floated up around the room and voices murmured in agreement.
He shook his head. “Noble, but we cannot allow ourselves to think like this. It is the mindset of a victim. The victim is content to spit in his enemy’s face before he dies. We must not be victims. Instead, we will become weapons. I ask you, is a weapon prepared to die? No. A weapon is a machine. It is cold, calculating and efficient. A weapon survives so that it may kill again tomorrow. That is its purpose.
“I know you are filled with anger and hatred, and you are willing to sacrifice your lives, but this must not be so. For the sake of our people, our mission must be greater than this. We must preserve ourselves… survive beyond the struggle, and not only destroy the enemy, but dominate them. We must drive them from our world, and show them the price of their arrogance.
“Now, it is true that we face an enemy of staggering power. The force which these invaders have brought against us is without precedent in the history of our world, yet they are not omnipotent. They can be defeated and killed. Can anyone tell me what strengths we possess?”
Galili’s question met silence, and he smiled. “How about this? We have knowledge. This is our world, and we know her terrain, her weather, the hidden secrets of the land itself. That is a strength. Our enemy is large and rooted in place, while we are fluid and agile. When they believe they’ve found us in numbers, we will disperse and regroup. That is a strength. Our enemy is loud and obtuse, but we are quiet, subtle and cunning. That too is a strength.”
The room was full of nodding heads.
“So you see, we have many strengths which the enemy cannot steal from us. Strengths which they cannot neutralize. We must exploit each strength to its fullest, and use them to destroy the enemy wherever he stands. Our victory then is not only attainable; it is inevitable.
“Harbor no doubts about this fact… we will be victorious. In our hearts and in our minds, we must look always toward victory, and we must seize every opportunity to strive closer to it.
“Are there any questions?”
A man somewhere in the middle of the room raised his hand, and Colonel Galili motioned to him. “When do we get to kill some damn spacemen?” he asked.
“Soon enough. You will train here for the next month, and then receive your assignments. Everyone with previous military experience will be fast tracked.”
The question and answer session went on for another twenty minutes, covering topics from weapons and organization to what was known about the invaders, which didn’t amount to much. When the activity began to quiet down, Jack had his own hand in the air.
Colonel Galili pointed to him. “Will we engage civilian targets?” Jack asked.
The colonel had to stop and think. It wasn’t a question he had a prepared answer for. “I’m not sure there even are civilians among them, to be honest. We have only seen their termination squads thus far. I see that you’re with emergency response. Would it bother you if we did?”
When Jack spoke, it was like the words came from someone else’s mouth. “No, sir.”
“Good. We cannot afford to show the enemy more compassion than he has shown us.” There were still hands in the air, but the colonel waved them off. “That’s enough for one night. The sergeant outside will show you all to a warm meal and a bunk, and we’ll pick up in the morning. That is all.”
The exhausted recruits stood up from the benches and slowly shuffled out the door, Jack and his team trailing at the back of the crowd. The air outside was cool and crisp, and there was a gentle wind blowing. He was glad to be outdoors again.
A Carbon Corporation sergeant stood off to the side, waving the recruits on toward the mess hall, every centimeter of him an example of Carbon’s commitment to technological warfare. He wore a suit of their standard charcoal-black armor, made from an impact-resistant polymer that was the source of Carbon’s vast wealth, as well as a bulky helmet covered in optics and air filters. Slung over his shoulder was a Blade Firearms XM-5 assault rifle decked out with all the options. Even banged up and covered in a layer of dust, his equipment was the envy of armies the world over.
As Jack approached, the sergeant unexpectedly stepped up and stopped him with a quick shove to the chest. His other hand reached back to his rifle, ready to bring the weapon forward. “Where do you think you’re going, Corpsman?” he asked. The helmet modulated his voice and made it sound inhuman and mechanical. “I’m detaining you under suspicion of sedition.”
Jack was too tired for this shit. He shook his head and readied a string of expletives, but before he could unload them, he noticed something strange: the nametag beside the double-crescent Carbon Corporation logo said Hernandez.
“What the… Charlie?”
The sergeant popped his helmet’s latch and levered the face-mask up, revealing Charlie Hernandez’ mischievous smirk inside. “Bro, you shoulda seen the look on your face.”
“You son of a bitch,” Jack said, and before he knew it, his arms were wrapped tight around his little brother. He couldn’t remember ever hugging Charlie. Not by choice, at least. He guessed that was a sign of just how much the world had changed.
They pulled away after a few seconds, and Charlie gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder. “How the fuck did you survive, Jack?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. We crashed in China…”
“Don’t be modest,” Nikitin said. “Your big brother saved our cans back there. Landed a half-destroyed leviathan smack dab in the middle of the invasion.”
“China? No joke,” Charlie said. “Man, I haven’t heard anything good coming out of the east.”
“Nothing good to say,” Jack said. “It’s hell over there. How about you?”
“Long story,” Charlie said. His hands became animated as he spoke. “We were hip deep in the shit fifty klicks outside of Cairo when it started. We had some insurgents pinned down, and then the damnedest thing happened. Four hundred guys in a firefight stopped shooting and just looked up at the sky, like someone hit pause.
“Next thing you know, the fight didn’t seem so important anymore. We called a cease fire, and ended up trading war stories with ‘em all night.”
