《An HFY Tale: Drop Pod Green, Ch 1》
The First Leg
Audio version can be found here: https://youtu.be/m8lReKjIrCA
Drop Pod GreenA HFY Short Story Collection
The First Leg
Rhidi looked over the rim of her canteen, eyeing the long line of Human recruits standing idle in the grass. Her long, lupine ears flicked with open aggravation at how they simply stood there, waiting for the rest of the non-Humans to get their rest in after only rucking halfway to their training center. Rhidi was a Kafya, children of the stars that found themselves bound in paw, snout and fur. The early days during training had been rather interesting, as the Humans poked fun at her and her fellow Kafya for being furries and tried to weed them out via hazing. It was a fair bit of culture shock when Rhidi had gone looking into her data-slate for just what those were, and she feared Humans for a whole other reason now, heaped onto all the others. She sighed out as she stared up at the big, angry, hot blue sky of Earth, and closed her eyes, thinking back to what got her here in the first place.
Humans had proved themselves to be the key in eliminating the star-wide threat of the Ur, a sadistic and highly aggressive race that was partially cybernetic. The Ur culture had deemed their natural, avian, wide headed forms too weak to take what they believed was destined to be theirs. To combat this, they became nearly as much machine as Humanoid, and took to the stars in a conquest of bloodshed.
For the Inner Dolcir Coalition, things were grim nearly from the word go: The Ur had broken through so many blockades and fleets at once, it sent the entire IDC into complete disarray and panic, allowing the Ur to slowly bisect them all, piece by piece. The Kafya were holding their own, as well as the Pwah, Kojynn, and Lilgara, but it was a losing battle all the same. Planet after planet fell, swallowed whole to be consumed by the Ur war machine and churned into materials to further their now swelling empire.
The IDC was being pushed back at such a rapid pace that they were shunted out into the outer layers of the Milky Way, desperately searching for any child of the stars that could be recruited and help hold back the tide of the Ur. Some were found, mostly pacifists like the Gikiri, while others were still in their humble beginnings of life, no use even as cannon fodder. Things took a steep turn when a Kojynn speed-skipper found Earth, nearly ramming into it due to none of the skip-charts showing it even being there.
Kojynn, with their carved, metal masks and two sets of arms, were greeted warmly despite the obvious alarm from Earth, the speed-skipper recon vessel finding itself quickly swarmed by point-contact fighters and multiple frigates that bristled with more guns than any Kojynn onboard had ever seen on a war vessel. Humans were remarked by a Kojynn Wayfinder as the most boring race I had ever laid eyes on, but I knew I didnt want them to get ahold of me while angry, causing the Kojynn to be as respectful as possible. The Human language was quickly decoded by the Kojynn, and there was a short burst of mirth as Humans were recognized as the noisy neighbor, an IDC moniker given to the unknown race blasting the stars with their incessant broadcasting.
Kafya, Pwah, and Lilgara ships arrived within record time, pushing their skip-engines as hard as they could to try and engage these newly discovered children of the stars. Humanity, as they called themselves, issued what many now see as warning signs: They didnt even need coaxing to join the IDC and fight, and took the offer with little more than show us how we can get there. When skip-engine technology was offered, the Humans then asked for more ships. When more ships were given, Humanity then asked what are your rules of war, and how far can we go.
It was an odd question. How far could they go? Neither the Kafya, Pwah, Kojynn, or Lilgara knew how to even answer that question. They instead began to list the history of the Ur, showed them how they conducted themselves in battle, their many atrocities, as well as their utter disdain for mercy and the proper conduct of agreeable rules of war. When the Humans heard of the desolation and extinction of the Ifrikana by Ur hands, the previously unknown race had a sudden shift in demeanour.
Well see it done.
Thats all that was said, all that Humanity had found needing to be said, as the Unified American Authority and European Unified Council marched in lock step to war. Their previous bickerings and skirmishes were wiped clean from the board as they now had a common enemy, an enemy that was as unjust as they were vile.
Humanity, after all, loved an enemy they could hate.
Their ships arrived in good order to a planet under siege from the Ur, and the bloodletting that filled the news unsettled many within the Inner Dolcir Coalition.
The Kafya and Pwah saw the Humans as a monster they had, now, unwittingly let out of their cage. The Kojynn and Lilgara saw the Humans as a beacon of hope, warriors of good that fought with an instilled rage and conviction that they had never laid eyes on before in the history of their stars.
To the Ur, Humanity would end up being their obliteration, the headsmen pulled from the shadows of the void by their enemies. The Ur went from years of victories to conducting a final, bitter last stand on their home planet of Zahari I. After nearly a decade of constant warring and killing amongst the stars of the Milky Way, Humanity drew from their armory a weapon capable of splitting a planet in two. A final gift and farewell they held in special regards to beings they saw deserving of being reduced to a mere memory.
They went further than what was even required of their weapons, reducing Zahari I to crags of rock floating in space, turning the once grand planet of interstellar control and power to nothing more than the dust of grand plans and lofty ambitions of domination. Humanity made sure nothing breathing left the planet at all, and after a further year of hunting, declared the Ur extinct from the star-record.
Humanity, disgusted by the Ur, had reduced them to nothing more than words and pictures.
Impressed, and mildly terrified, the Kafya, Pwah, and Lilgara sent their own soldiers to Earth in order to learn from these butcherers of iron, and it was because of this, Rhidi found herself there now.
Rhidi had been a special operations trooper of her races main home planet, Kafya Mintulcurr, and had been participating in the grand clean up of the Ur remnants. With her job now over, her mother had made it quite clear that she was to now get married and help rebuild the populations of Kafya.
Instead, Rhidi hopped on the first ship off that damn planet. It was a good gig anyway, even though Earth was both hotter and had a higher gravity than her home planet.
She had rode there with the Pwah and Lilgara, and the ride was eventful, to say the least. Rhidi had not known much about the other star children until the war, and she still found them odd; The Pwah were shorter than her, averaging out at five foot even, and had both pointed ears and many features that were akin to Humans; While the Kafya had paw-like hands and mildly digitigrade legs, the Pwah could very well have just been odd, shorter cousins of the Humans. Despite their pointed ears and thickly fibred hair, they also had rather odd eyes. While they were a normal shape, which was an odd similarity that everyone but the Ur shared, they were fully colored. The color deepened around the rims and came to a lighter hue near the middle, giving them an oddly gem-like quality.
The Lilgara were an odder people, and only shared the general construction of their hands and feet with the Humans. While they were lizard like with rounded noses, thick tails, and slitted pupils that burned as if filled with the fire of rising suns, they had great, loose hoods around their heads. These could be flared out, depending on the Lilgaras emotion, and normally sat around the neck in folds of lightly scaled flesh, making them all look as if they were constantly wearing cowled sweaters under their usual clothing. This remnant of their evolution was mostly bothersome, but it did wonders in hiding things such as snacks or drinks.
Then there were the Kafya, and Rhidi pondered about it for a moment. The Humans, despite calling them furries, had apparently fallen upon a similar design in their own literature, something that fascinated the Kafya to no end. Space Wolves was used often, while other Humans believed they were more vulpine, owing to their more refined snouts and far more attractive faces. They had tails, much like the Lilgara, but instead of being long, strong, and scaly, theirs were just an extension of their spine and covered with fur, much like any other creature. Their fur colors were varied; White, black, red, if there was a color out there, it was likely a Kafya wore it at one time. Small designs in their coats sometimes arose, such as freckles of darker colors, dots, stripes, etc, while their eyes were said to shine like the minerals hidden beneath soil.
Rhidi thought that her given color was a bunch of bullshit; She had been born icterine yellow with a splash of marigold freckles across her face, a rarer color, and had ivory eyes to boot. The Kafya military had refused her several times for service just for how loud she was color wise, and had tried to make her become a nurse. After enough pestering to drive even a Human mad, they finally let her join a special forces shock infantry unit, since they usually went in loud anyway. Her sister and mother were both nearly goldenrod in color, with eyes that shone like mother of pearl, but they both went into fashion as their chosen professions.
She had gotten the same kind razzing from the Humans when she had landed, with one Drill Sergeant remarking that he could wear her as a PT belt. The planet itself, Earth as the Humans called it, was less than comfortable; She had landed in something called a state, of which was called Georgia. Learning how to say Georgia had been a task in of itself, though the name of the fort was rather fun to say.
Fort Benning was a military installation renowned for training parachute dropped soldiers during the earlier years of its creation, and now was the premier training grounds for drop-pod born infantry. Unfortunately for Rhidi and everyone else in her training unit, their planets had signed them up for the hardest, and toughest training school for the Unified American Authority military: Heavy Onslaught Infantry. In their own minds, the Human training should have been easy according to their governments and councils, and this would be proof that they were, despite the outcome of the war, on equal footing with Humans when it came to power and strength.
Besides the blistering heat, air that felt like it was made from lead and suffering, and all the nano-medical inoculations, Rhidi and the other star children had weeks of in-classroom learning; First they had to learn the language, which wasnt all that difficult, as well as acclimate to the higher gravity. This was just a lot of working out in air conditioned gyms, and they all bounced back rather quickly some faster than others. With a gravity rating of 14.5 PPD, and the average being 8-9 PPD on other planets within the IDC, Earth was a real pain to get used to.
Their teacher was a rather odd woman, one of the Skalathir race that mostly aided in the war by financial and material means. They were a robust, scaled people that radiated strength and poise, but were far different than the Lilgara. The Skalathir were far more blocky, less refined, a feature of their own evolution and time spent digging the ground apart for its minerals. Skalathir were master miners, refiners, and workers, crafting and forging some of the strongest metals known to the stars, and their muscular figures made them of keen interest to the Humans. The Humans, nearly as a whole, were taken in by their curved horns, strong features, and toil-crafted bodies, leading the Skalathir councils to take a tight grip on their own people who tried to immigrate to Earth; Human attention was, according to the Skalathir, highly addictive, and the Skalathir were years ahead of everyone else in regard to working with Humans, due to helping them build their ships and armors for the war.
Lathway Aum-La, or Miss La as she preferred to be called, was the first Skalathir that Rhidi had seen with her own eyes; The woman was well.
She was huge.
Standing at nearly seven and a half UAA feet, the blue scaled woman looked as if she could snap her desk in half with her well muscled tail alone. According to the brief biography portfolio on their data-slates, she had been an armor forger before taking a teaching commission on Earth, and was apparently several months overdue returning home. Her horns arched back towards the rear of her skull, and she had several long strands of scaled flesh that ran down the sides of her face. Every once in a while the strands would twitch if Miss La became angry or agitated at her students, and Rhidi made a distinct measure to not ask what the hell they were.
When they had a firm grasp on English, Miss La then left to return to an orbiting station, leaving her students to the whims of their new instructors.
On her home planet of Kafya Mintulcurr, her military training had been no different than any normal college or place of learning; There were classes, range days, physical training three times a week, and there was a cordial respect between all soldiers, instructor and trooper alike.
When she was told to leave the bus and stand on a pair of painted boot prints on the sidewalk, she couldnt help but raise her eyebrows. She almost spoke out in Kafyah-hi, but remembered to instead use English.
What the hell is this? Rhidi asked, turning to look at a brown furred female Kafya to her left as sweat began to form under her shirt. The heat was just as unbearable today, and they had not been allowed to wear Kafya environmental suits for some reason, instead issued the olive drab uniform, white shirt, and newly made paw-boots.
The woman shrugged, pursing her lips as her tail gave a curious sway. Perhaps we are being scanned?
What would they scan fo- Rhidi began, but both she and the brown furred Kafya snapped to the position of attention when a growling voice barked out over all the mild chatter.
Shut your god damn mouths! Furry feet on the boots, now!
Rhidis heart rate spiked in fear as she turned her head left and right, trying to see who was speaking.
Stop looking around, furball! Eyes straight! Arms to your sides! The voice bellowed out again as recruits poured from the buses.
Leave it to the Humans to still use vehicles with rubber wheels of all things. Not that the ride was unpleasant it was just archaic.
As fast as they could, over two thousand recruits from beyond the clouds of Earth poured into their marks, a mixture of Kafya, Pwah, and Lilgara. There were over a thousand Humans as well, but they were sectioned off into their own places to stand.
Whatsss happening? A male Lilgara muttered behind Rhidi, and her ears turned to the sides to hear him better. Why are they yelling at usss? Did we do sssomething wrong?
A male Pwah standing on Rhidis right turned his head as far as he dared, muttering out of the side of his mouth. I think its beginning.
Whats beginning? Rhidi muttered back, her ears flicking back and forth as she heard someone crying near the rear of their formation.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Our training. The Pwah sighed out, his head already slicked with sweat. This is the breaking period.
Rhidi wanted to ask him what the hell he was talking about, but before she could turn her head, a boot connected with the doors leading to the Forging Halls, the reception building for new recruits. Two double doors slammed into brick walls with a tortured rattle of steel and puff of dust, and from those doors poured hundreds of male and female Humans, all wearing round, brown hats bearing brass badges on their fronts.
Rhidi didnt even understand half of what they were saying as they streamed into the formations, moving around them like a river breaking free of a bank and coursing around rather confused, and scared, rocks.
Before a mere thirty seconds had passed, Kafya, Pwah, and Lilgara were breaking ranks and making runs for the buses.
Thats right, run! An extremely short female Drill Sergeant howled, her face marked and scarred by her war wounds, badges of honor amongst Human warriors. Despite being a mere five foot five, she had the aura of a nine foot tall Skalathir Magmasmith. Run for those buses you little sonsabitches! You come here and make a mockery of my Army?!
The woman twitched left, moving so quickly that Rhidi had thought she teleported. Her equally scarred fists gripped Rhidi by the front of her uniform blouse, pulling the five foot nine Kafya down to her eye level.
Are you going to run and hide, you little furry shit?! The Drill Sergeant bellowed into her face, shaking Rhidi as if she were a toddler. You gonna piss yourself and hide under the seat?!
Rhidi saw from the scant second of pause her name was Almoore. A second quick thought of her rank, Rhidi remembered seeing a single rocker Staff Sergeant Almoore.
N-No, Staff Sergeant Almoore! Rhidi stammered out, and tried not to make any noise as the Human shook her again roughly.
Staff Sergeant? Staff Sergeant?! I am Drill Sergeant Almoore to you, you fucking fur-licking cretin! Drill Sergeant Almoore bellowed as she threw Rhidi to the ground, knocking the air from the Kafyas lungs. Push! Push you little bitch!
Rhidi, at a loss of what to do, began doing push ups. She only got three reps out before Drill Sergeant Almoore grabbed her by an ear.
You bore me recruit! Bore me! Get up! Get up off my god damn concrete! Drill Sergeant Almoore screamed, hauling the painfully hissing Rhidi to her feet before turning and finding a new target, pointing a scarred hand at a female Lilgara. You! I saw you looking at me, snake shit! Who the fuck do you think youre looking at?!
Rhidi shuddered and trembled as she stood at attention on her boots, her eyes fighting back humiliated tears as the yelling continued around her. T-The fuck was t-that?!
Theyre weeding us out The male Pwah murmured, not even daring to look as if he was breathing. Two hundred and ten have already fled. Twenty three are currently sprinting through the fucking woodline
The attack was sudden, violent and then they were gone. The overwhelming calm and quiet was nearly as unnerving as the Drill Sergeants being there, but no one dared to move their heads and look around. No one was brave enough to obtain the sudden ire and rage of the Drill Sergeants if they happened to still be nearby. Indeed, Rhidi and other Kafya could hear the Drill Sergeants some ways away, as well as the panicked screams of those who fled but Rhidi alone could hear the fact there were Drill Sergeants still near, lurking around the back of the buses, waiting.
Rhidi had never been stalked before, and she did not find the feeling to her liking.
A new sound broke the quiet, a pair of polished black combat boots calmly stepping along the sidewalk. The soft click and scrape of the heels made Rhidis fur stand on end, blinking at the sweat that stung her eyes, and she gave a soft puff of air out her nose to clear the sweat from there as well.
A male Human stepped out into all of their view, and he lifted his head. It was as if someone had carved a Human from a block of stone, and the mans uniform struggled to hide the warriors form he held underneath it.
Right, face. He said calmly, and everyone snapped to the right.
They all turned in their own way; Kafya soldiers changed directions to the right by lifting their left foot-paw, kicking it out to swing right, and then planting their foot-paw back to the ground. The Pwah shifted off of the toes of their right foot, pushing off of their left and bringing their feet back together. The Lilgara swung their heads and tails in a swishing motion, rapidly picking up their feet in a marching motion and coming to a halt at their attentive position.
With the Human now in view, Rhidis eyes were drawn to his brown campaign hat. His brass badge was different, bearing two crossed combat bayonets behind the usual emblem. This told everyone that he was not only a Drill Sergeant that was a combat veteran, but a veteran who saw combat on the ten major battleground planets controlled by the Ur. A Senior Drill Sergeant, a double dagger as they were nicknamed according to their briefing folders on the data-slates.
His quiet voice and pleasant demeanor was perhaps even more unsettling than the noise of the other Drill Sergeants.
Welcome to Fort Benning, Georgia. He said, smiling to them all as sweat coursed down their bodies. It appears you have lost some weight in number, but that is fine. You will lose more before the week is out. I am curious, though, to see just how many of you will last until the end, and earn your mark of honor.
The reception building loomed behind him like an execution chamber, the tall, ancient drop towers standing behind it like sentinels.
You will all be staying in the Airborne Barracks, walking and treading the same path as millions of Humans have before you. He continued, slowly speaking in front of them all. Their spirit, their sweat, their pain, it will all be intertwined with yours as you learn, become stronger, are forged sharper, and honed deadlier. By the time you leave this place
The Senior Drill Sergeant partially turned, opening his arms to the ancient Airborne Barracks, the old drop towers and newer pod bays, all while smiling.
... Your own people wont even recognize you. He finished, then pulled off the data-slate from his belt. As it is, we will first start with you all being issued your gear, as well as more uniforms. That single one you are wearing wont do, but we knew not many of you would be sticking around, so why issue more than we would care to receive again?
He chuckled to himself, and the doors to the reception building opened again like a great maw ready to consume them
Outfitting had been just as chaotic and rigorous as their initiation on the sidewalk. They all stood in lines, being measured by the staff of the building or scanned by handheld machines. They were issued a cack card after their pictures were taken, and Rhidi was annoyed at how frightened she looked in hers. She looked as if she had been thrown out an airlock; Eyes wide, hair frayed, even her cheek fur was standing on end with stress. She had made up her mind that if she survived the training, she would get a new one taken. Showing this one to other military officials would just be embarrassing
At the end of their many scans, measurements, and digital signatures, a tidy rucksack was waiting for them with their name on it. They were all of Human make, great big monsters that were wide and nearly twice that in height. Inside were her seven uniforms, seven PT uniforms, extra paw-boots, socks, her patrol caps with their half-moon cut outs for her ears, as well as other gear for the rest of the hellish Earth seasons. The Humans had done their homework on the otherworldly races from the stars, as they had included ear picks for the Pwah, a Kafya grooming kit including multiple curved shears, and Lilgara scale scrapers.
Toss on that ruck and head to the intake armory, youll get your rifle as well. A woman said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. Hubba hubba, dog girl.
Dog Girl? Rhidi thought to herself with a silent growl in her throat, but slung on the massive pack onto her shoulders and trudged off to the armory. The armory itself seemed more like a temple, more than an armory. Along the walls were weapons of Humanitys past, arranged like icons of religious importance with little plaques next to them. She turned her head to see one such older weapon, narrowing her eyes at the plaque and working through the English letters slowly.
Brown bess smooth bore muskert mucket Rhidi leaned in a little further as she muttered. Muscket. Smoothbore, ramrod loaded.
She blinked at the old weapon, then shook her head, moving down the line, talking to herself as others read or moved quickly past them. Springfield, Model 1795. 1795? This thing is-
Three hundred and twenty two Earth-years old, give or take a few years. Im not quite sure how their calendars work yet.
Rhidi turned and saw the male Pwah from earlier was looking at the same rifle as her, reading the plaque with the same eye as a professional student.
You again. Rhidi said, turning to face the Pwah. He had dull white hair, nearly gray, but eyes that looked as if she were looking at a nebula through a telescope. He was five foot two, maybe three, and looked a little more rugged than the other Pwah she had seen. Military?
We all are, I just got more work done. The Pwah said, offering a hand to Rhidi. Names Alias.
Rhidi cracked a grin, and Alias held up the offered hand. Yeah, I already know.
Rhidi. The yellow Kafya offered, holding out her own hand that was quickly taken by Alias. What are our numbers? You seemed to be keeping track earlier.
Im not actually sure. I saw quite a few sneaking out of the building, but theyre breaking us up into something called training Companies. Theres going to be four hundred of us, all mixed together with the Humans. Alias said, turning and slowly walking down the long hallway towards the armory.
Rhidi followed after him, watching the weapons slowly evolve as they went down the hallway. Odd little weapons such as the Krag-Jorgensen, the M1903 Springfield, Garand, M1 Carbine, all the way down the wall until they came before the current, modern issue rifle; The SR-113, Mod. 2.
It was a deceptively vague looking thing; It was a weapon of simplistic beauty and attractive lines, yet blocky and utilitarian in design. The barrel was capped with an odd looking device that both reduced recoil and allowed for the attachment of what looked like a can, of all things, poking out of the foregrip with the block that fed the piston the gas it needed to operate the weapon. The magazine well was flared, boasting an impressive forty round capacity thanks to the brick of a magazine that fed the weapon. The buttstock collapsed down against the frame via two sliding rails, allowing the stock to sit flush to the rear of the weapon via a telescoping mechanism. The grip to the weapon was bulky, but it at least had some curves to it for comfort.
To Rhidi and Alias, it looked nearly neolithic.
We were all using pulse rifles, gaur-rail carbines, lazer-crop emitters Alias said with an annoyed narrowing of his eyebrows, looking at the rifle as if it would bite him if he touched it. Then these guys show up with lead throwers. This thing killed all the Ur?
Rhidi shrugged. The Ur had the best shields in the game, and their bodies were pretty much the power cells. If you couldnt blow parts of them away, it always came down to melee. The weapons of Humans blew chunks off of the Ur, the rounds were so slow the shields didnt even register them as attacks.
Alias shook his head, walking on. Remember when we found out they could shatter their steel bones and turn them into blades?
It was a massacre, thats what it was. Rhidi said, remembering the recordings taken of the 1046ths last moments on Ilihi. They thought they had finally ground them down and had no more ammunition, all to just be butchered on the rocks.
Rhidi and Alias came to the armory proper, and it was even more temple-esque in here. Racks of rifles were held aloft in rotating racks, slowly spinning and depositing a rifle when the correct serial number was found as mechanical arms picked and plucked at weapons. Around the walls were parts from millions of rifles, pistols, and crew served weapons through Human time, arranged in blackened steel, art-deco designs. On plinths made of brass casings were artifacts; Helmets bearing the marks of battle, combat vests and armor still stained by the detonations of Ur munitions, twisted and still blooded blades sitting upon welded Vs of brass casings. The lack of natural light and moodier attitude about the place made it feel as if they were in a tomb
Artifacts from the war. Rhidi whispered, pointing to one such dagger. That blade took the final Ur life. They flayed the Ur alive, something called a blawd eengel.
Alias nodded, pointing to a helmet with dozens of incense burners around it. First Human trooper to be killed in battle wore that helmet, I remember it from a few books I read on the way here. William T. Turner.
As Rhidi looked around, there were actually a lot of incense burners in here, filling the armory with the smell of sandlewood, black powder, carbon, and the very smell of fire itself. It was during his observation that she realized the Humans in this area were not nearly as normal, as the others. Curiously enough, while they still wore uniforms of olive drab, they wore great leather gloves inscribed with stars at the fingers, while from the wrist and below were bands of bars, the gloves running all the way to two inches before the elbow. Around their heads were heavy woolen hoods of more olive drab, cropped out to shed shadows down their faces. The hoods gathered around their necks as if to protect them from the cold, pouring down their shoulders and hanging just an inch above the ground, perfectly level.
Oddest of all were their pauldrons, blocky outcrops of drop armor emblazoned with the emblem of a firing pin crossed behind the notched face of a rifle bolt.
Armorers. Rhidi whispered, and Alias turned, not realizing the Humans had finally shown themselves.
Armorers were revered amongst the Humans as each armorer had to serve at least ten years in the military, as well as serve in an active combat zone and shed blood. When a Human became an armorer, that was the job they held until they died, and Rhidi saw an older armorer with a long, gray beard braided down the front of his uniform. A second glance around the armory told her that there were no more Human recruits here it was all off worlders, and the older armorer slowly stepped out from behind the rifle counter.
Today, you receive your rifle. He said, flexing his shoulders. Rhidi could tell that even in his aged state, the man could likely kill more than half of the room in one on one combat. You will be issued one rifle, and one rifle only. You will bear your rifle until you either finish your tenure within these armed forces, or fall upon the field of battle. If such a fate should befall you, your rifle will be buried with you, and no one else will ever bear it. Some of you may gain a rifle with a name upon it. This is the name of its previous owner, and their warrior spirit will be with you, and should you leave, your name will then be laid upon it. No matter what comes in the future, no matter what new weapon may come along, you will only bear the rifle you are given now. Its number will be etched into your very flesh, and you shall become one of the same soul.
The older Human man pulled off one of his gloves, and there upon his forearm was a long string of numbers, ending with the same notched facing of a rifle bolt.
You are not Human, but you shall still be baptized in the soul of powder, lead, and flame. He nodded his head as the long tendrils of incense smoke drifted across the air that hung between him and the offworld recruits. With these rifles forged of iron and steel, crafted by Human hands, you shall become more than what you arrived as. You, shall become equal.
The older Human slowly stepped backwards, and with a raised, gloveless hand, he snapped his fingers. The machines all whirred to life at once, the ceiling becoming a crawling, writhing mass of mechanical apparatuses as rifles were pulled from their storage racks. Ten mechanical arms slowly swung down from the ceiling, presenting ten rifles to the armorers who bent down, running a gloved hand along their serial numbers and scanning them into the tattoo machine that would stamp the same numbers onto the flesh of the recruits standing before them.
Do not dishonor the steel and iron. Do not dishonor the Human spirit within these rifles. Do not dishonor yourselves. The older Human intoned with finality, slamming his gloved and ungloved hands together with an ear ringing clap.
The mechanical arms spun around, and presented the rifles they bore, the SR-113 Mod. 2s catching the dull light as incense smoke drifted slowly across them.
Much to Rhidis disappointment, twenty seven more children of the stars bowed forward and stepped back, unable to bear the weight of such duty, and they were quietly ushered out of the room by hidden Drill Sergeants that had been lingering in the shadows.
The older Human smiled, his teeth just barely visible under his hood. You there, in the yellow. Choose your rifle.
Rhidi, an elite soldier of her peoples, had chosen a rifle with three names etched upon it. Rifle number 33k-96578-3 was now etched onto her right forearm, and it itched terribly, but she walked out of the armory with the rifle on her shoulder and her rucksack on her back. She couldnt explain the feeling she had within her chest, but she felt heavier than when she had first arrived. As she walked down a long, thin concrete walkway towards a slowly growing formation, she casted her eyes to the rifle, reading the names again.
R.C. Brola Matthew Erwinn Ronald Dawden Rhidi whispered, looking at the number on her arm again.
Did they bear the same number as her? Did she share a brotherhood of warriorhood with these three Humans? Would they hate sharing a number with a non-Human? Should she meet them one day?
She didnt know, despite her wanting to.
While waiting in a white circle on the ground, along with other white circles, she saw Alias join the formation, and she smiled at him.
Alias showed his forearm, and he smiled back, winking at her and looking around at their growing training Company.
It was a hard mix of Humans, Kafya, Pwah, and Lilgara, with maybe an even split of Humans to offworlders. Their Drill Sergeants, all twelve of them, stalked around the formation, calm for the moment, and allowing idle chatter as long as it was quiet.
It itchesss Someone hissed beside Rhidi, and she turned her head to the Lilgara.
He was a younger one, and had a scale across his round nose, denoting him as coming from the northern region of his planet.
I remember your voice, you were behind me earlier. Rhidi said, holding out her own right arm to him.
He looked up, then smiled, exposing his needle-like teeth. Ah! The Kafya with the sssun colored fur. Good to sssee you didnt pussssy out like the others.
Pussy out? Rhidi asked, and it actually caused a Drill Sergeant nearby to cough out a laugh.
He cleared his throat before continuing his walk. It means to get scared and run away like a little bitch, recruit.
Oh. Rhidi said with raised brows and wide eyes, then turned back to the Lilgara. No, I did not.
The Lilgara took her hand, shaking it. Honestly, shaking hands was an odd amount of fun, and was apparently a Human custom they all had to learn. Their entire classroom practicing shaking hands had ended up on the Human Interlinked Information Network, and it was quite popular, even now.
Im Shasta. The Lilgara said, smiling brightly.
Alias gave a snort. Oh no
What? Shasta asked, turning around to look at the Pwah.
Alias pulled out his data slate, a newer issue that attached to his belt, and pulled up the particular brand of soda that was quite popular in the early 2100s, before it went bankrupt.
Shasta stared at the slate for a long while, his face souring as he slowly scrolled down the information logs on the display. He then looked to Rhidi. Thisss training cycle is going to sssuck
Thank you for reading my story. If you liked it, please let me know down below. I am a self-published writer, so you will likely see mistakes that my editor missed, but the main desire is for you, the reader, to be entertained. If you were, I''ll chalk that up as a victory. More chapters to come.
Feeling The “Boot” Of Bootcamp
Feeling The Boot Of Bootcamp
Screwing the canteen lid onto her water vessel, Rhidi placed it back into the pouch on her belt. Another odd, archaic aspect of the Human military was the metal canteen. There was an industrial, anti-microbial wax liner on the inside of it, but most modern militaries amongst the stars simply used hydration bladders within their uniforms or armor, or wore a hydration pack on their chests.
Rhidi ran her pawed hands through her hair, letting out a long exhale as the sun beat down on her from on high. Alias, draining his entire canteen, let out a wet cough and wiped at his face. He then pulled out his data-slate, numbly tapping at it while breathing through his mouth.
Are you kidding me? Six hundred and ten pelqi?! Alias growled out, shaking his data-slate. How does anything even live on this planet?!
Sssix hundred and ten. Shasta said, running his fingers along a string of soda can tabs the Drill Sergeants started making him wear on his belt. Thatsss eighty four UAA degreesss. Quite mild, really.
Alias gave a tired, strained laugh. Mild? Mild he says. Feels like my skin is about to melt off of my bones. Not to mention how moist the air is
At least we can sweat despite all this fur. I dont know how the animals here do it just by panting Rhidi muttered, looking around to all the other suffering Kafya around her.
Their fur was damp, slicked, frayed, and fluffed out to the extreme, allowing more air to course along the fur and cool the sweat that attached to the strands. Kafya fur had evolved to do some rather neat things with water, and one of those things was using sweat to cool down their bodies. She had described it to the other Human recruits in the manner of their fur acting like a funnel, carrying sweat to their pawed hands and feet to cool down faster, as well as their ears helping them radiate a little more heat from their blood. Kafya ears became quite stiff when they were overheated, as more blood flowed through the veins, and their eyes became quite dark due to their purple blood trying to cool through that area as well.
Humans, frankly, had it easy; All they did was just get wet and drink water.
It didnt even seem fair, not at all.
The Lilgara loved heat, becoming lethargic and snackish when it was too cool. This was a common trait in most races such as them, creatures of scale and tail. The Pwah were struggling far more than anyone else; While they could sweat, they just rarely had to, their planets being quite cool all year round during their growing seasons, and deeply cold during the others.
Earth may as well have been an oven for them, the gravity not helping at all either.
Their respite was not as long as theyd hoped, as Drill Sergeant McPhiston clapped his hands together. Alright, enough lollygagging for you lot, on your feet.
Drill Sergeant McPhiston was a shorter Human, but his expertise was second to none. He was the exact opposite of Drill Sergeant Almoore, who seemed to be pure aggression wrapped in a slightly marred, cute candy coating. Rhidi had seen Drill Sergeant Almoore talking to some Regs, or normal, fully honored infantry, and she looked almost pleasant, smiling and joking with the men and women as they asked her about the war.
That veneer dropped as soon as she was facing Rhidi and the other recruits, as if the ground had cracked apart to spew forth rageful magma to swallow them whole.
Only four more miles to the training site. Come on Charlie Company, lets go then, back into route step! Drill Sergeant McPhiston bellowed out, clapping his hands. Dont make me get mean now!
Route step. Rhidi thought to herself, falling into place along the sides of the road while slinging her rucksack back onto her shoulders. Only Humans could make walking along a road into different styles
Their first true training week, also known as Red Phase according to the UAA data-catalogues, was a play upon their flag colors, and had been a part of the doctrine for over a hundred years. Red Phase was when the chaff was beaten from the berries, and they were drilled in how to move like a soldier. Such training only lasted a couple days in the Kafya military, but here it lasted for weeks. This very training alone had caused more to quit, marching and manoeuvring around in the grass with the roaring Sol sun burning down upon them.
Besides breaking down their weapons over and over again, and practicing some light hand to hand combatives, this bit of training was at least supposed to be a change of pace from the usual. Rhidi did not understand why they were walking there, and it was a sentiment that Alias seemed to share.
They bus us to the barracks, but make us walk all the way to the training site? Alias groused behind her, panting lightly under the weight of his own rucksack. And its all the way in the middle of the damn woods?! Ive seen their aircraft and armored personnel carriers, why couldnt we just take one of those?
Rhidi looked up at the odd, needled trees that were now thick around them, and blinked. She had been so tired that she didnt even realize they had walked into a forest, the tall, towering trees looming over them only barely keeping the sun at bay. Trees were nothing new or special; Most planets had trees, though the colors varied, and was considered one of the three Constants for a planet to be worth taking. If a planet had trees, water, and warmth, it was nearly always habitable and worthy of becoming absorbed into whatever empire got its hands on it.
Rhidi had never seen trees with spears though, and still found them extremely odd. Trees should have leaves; Soft, fluttering things that caused the shadows to dance and wind to gain a voice for song. Some of Earths trees were that way, with their green leaves, but these these trees looked as if they were wary. They held thousands of tiny green spears as leaves, with bark that was thick and blocky, like hundreds of shields. Rhidi wondered if these were warrior trees, trees that fought back against anything that dared trifle with their growth.
Leave it to Earth to make a tree that wanted to fight you, she supposed.
They continued on the road until they came to a small clearing within the trees, and there stood a few wooden benches, bleachers and a solitary building made of concrete blocks.
What the fuck isss even that? Shasta murmured, his eyes widening. I sssmell I dont know what I sssmell.
Rhidi cocked a brow at the Lilgara. Fuck? Been diving hard into the slang, have you?
Alias wasss. I ssstill dont know what ssskibidi means. Shasta said with a sniff, and unshouldered his pack. I think it hasssomething to do with plumbing.
The Drill Sergeants called them all to form up, gather their rucks, and then stage their rifles in triangular stacks, barrels to the sky. The next order, after the chaos of trying to get the rifles to lean and stay leaned together, was to grab their gas masks.
Gas masks? Rhidi asked aloud, pulling out the canvas bag that held the odd little, face sucking device. What are we going to need these for? Is there a fuel leak somewhere?
The Human gas mask was an odd little creature; Made of rubber, silicon, and other polymers, there was also a smart device that had a small motor and vacuum inside of the breathing apparatus. With a half-face visor and a bulky, radiator type breathing vent on the front, it made a normal Human look like a monster that haunted the dreams of the living.
The mask had even caused a few off-worlders to have panic attacks when first seeing them on others, as they had the same shocking appearance as Ur Cull-Squad infantry. Highly advanced, the mask locked onto whatever face it was pressed against, inflating a thick rubber gasket and then suctioning the mask to the head. It even kept a perfect seal onto fur, making it quite handy for the Kafya as a whole; If the nose fit, the mask would sit. When the seal was obtained, a single, thick elastic band wrapped around the head, taking some of the weight off of the face itself.
Rhidi tilted her mask back and forth in her hands as she looked around at the confused faces of everyone else, then the hissing-clisssck sound of masks sealing caught her attention.
All the Human recruits were putting on their masks, as well as the Drill Sergeants.
Its time to take a stroll in the gas chamber, my little darlings. Drill Sergeant Almoore said, her voice slightly muffled despite the masks microphone and small speaker. Dont worry, none of you are likely to die.
Gas chamber? Rhidi whispered to herself as she absorbed the words, then slowly turned, looking towards the, now highly alarming, concrete block building. Gas chamber
Shasta sniffed again, then turned to Alias who was standing nearby, looking at the gas chamber with skin as pale as star light. What gasssmells like He sniffed again, then snapped his clawed fingers. Like fresh cut applesss!
Johnny-3. Alias said in the same tone of voice one may use when they feel a snake slither across their naked foot. I had completely were in Heavy Onslaught Infantry school, we drop in pods, and Humans are famous for slamming the pods into enemy lines. They release gas when they land because Humans wear their dagger-helms, they completely seal-
Today. Drill Sergeant McPhiston began, his voice muffled as well. You will be subjected to Johnny-3, an aggro-gas that is designed to stun and disrupt the enemy should we be landing amongst them. This is to make you aware of what it does to the enemy, as well as build your confidence in your equipment. In the event you lose your helmet, you can use this mask as a back-up to keep yourself safe from gas, poisons, toxins, and other nerve agents you may get ambushed with. This is not normally a problem we deal with, as we are usually wearing or nearby our helmets, but it is still a precaution you need to learn to master.
Drill Sergeant McPhiston and Drill Sergeant Almoore then began to show everyone how to properly apply their masks, the shoulder touching signal for a gas attack, all while the other Drill Sergeants prepared the room inside the concrete block building. After twenty minutes of practicing clearing the masks, purging, and other steps of use, they all formed lines.
Or sticks, as the Humans called them.
Rhidi made sure Shasta and Alias were in the same stick as her, the third one in sequence.
First stick, get in there! Drill Sergeant Almoore called out, clapping her hands together. Take a deep breath fishies, because you are going to drown inside! Do not drop your mask, or well make you go back in and get it!
Rhidi pinned her ears back, grimacing as she turned and spoke to Alias. Why would she say that? What would ever possess her to say that?
The sound of three masks hitting the ground and pounding feet were her answer, and Rhidi spun around to see a Kafya and a pair of Pwah making a run for the road.
What?! Rhidi shouted, stepping out from her stick and raising her fists as her mask bag wiggled back and forth on her thigh. Get back here you fucking cowards!
Shasta gave a light, hissing titter of laughter. Language, language.
Stand firm, Recruit. Drill Sergeant Almoore called out, though the Humans smile was riding on her words as she tapped her middle finger twice to pad of her thumb. Three runners heading South along the 9th Infantry Loop.
With that business finished, Drill Sergeant Almoore turned to the troopers standing in their tidy rows and pointed to the first line. Alright second stick, youre going in the chute next. Third stick, get yourselves ready.
Rhidi stood there as quietly as she could, but her fine ears could easily pick up the sounds of chaos and suffering going on inside the building. Each stick was thirty troopers; Thirty people howling, screaming, and hacking up their lungs was not easy to miss. When the back doors of the building flung open, the sounds of vomiting and roars of pain were even harder to ignore.
The second stick went in, more rather distressing noises echoed out to her, and soon it was Rhidis turn. They had already placed their masks on, and went running into the dark building in an orderly line.
Rhidi was breathing heavily as she entered the building, looking around at the interior; It was stark, nothing more than concrete walls, concrete floor, rinsing hoses, and a drain that ran along the back wall where they all stood. The floor was freshly wet, their boots splashing along a thin layer of still draining water that carried substances towards the drain. In front of them were their other Drill Sergeants, all wearing their masks and watching the gauges on tanks of gas.
Were sealed. Came a voice over an intercom, and Rhidi saw that in the corner of the room was a small glass booth in which a CBRN specialist sat in, monitoring oxygen levels and how much gas was in the room. Bringing gas levels to Delta 3-1.
The sound of a light hiss began to fill the room, and Rhidis heart hammered ever harder; She could feel the gas pressing against her fur and skin, as if sniffing around her and wondering where her nose was.
Recruits, you are currently sealed in properly. If you werent, you would likely be puking at the current moment. Drill Sergeant Curahee said, pointing at them. Breath in and out of your masks, feel how they react to the gas.
Drill Sergeant Curahee was a massive man of tanned skin and blonde hair, and there was a rumor that he could strip an entire roasted chicken of all its flesh in just minutes. He also had a massive blonde mustache, which usually bore the remnants of the poor chicken.
Rhidi breathed in, and out, of her mask, feeling the mask pull her flesh as well as give a few soft, interesting clicks as it figured out what compound she had breathed in. On the visor, a few words began to crawl across her vision in calming green text: Compound identified: Johnny-3. Use: Crowd control and enemy formation disruption. Death risk: Low. Filter: 99%.
Well that is rather handy. Rhidi said, turning to Alias and tapping him on the visor of his mask. It even tells you what the gas is!
Charming. Alias muttered, though he was wondering why his said his filter was at 43%... and rapidly dropping.
Recruits! Drill Sergeant Curahee shouted, his bushy blonde mustache bristling and glittering with sweat. At my command, you will break the seal on your masks, lift them completely off of your face, then place them back on. You will then purge your masks, and continue breathing as normal. If you fuck this up, we will know. Execute!
Rhidi, along with everyone else, squeezed their eyes shut, pulled their masks away, lifting them up from their heads, then placed them back against their faces again. Rhidi quickly jammed her thumb into the emergency purge valve, blocked her filter grill, then exhaled as hard as she could. Her breath coursed along her face fur, both breaking the seal and pushing all the air out of the mask and filter.
Manual purge detected. Scrolled across the visor of her gas mask, which then displayed a ... as it waited for her to finish breathing in.
When she had no more breath to give, she pressed the mask against her face, removed her hand from the filter and purge valve, and breathed in.
The mask resealed to her face seamlessly, gave a soft hiss, and the mask confirmed she had successfully purged it. The scent of ripe apples filled the mask, and it was starting to make her eyes water. It felt as if the smell alone was politely poking at her eyes, wiggling its fingers into the flesh in some kind of half-hearted torture.
A few of the other recruits in her stick had, apparently, not done it correctly, and were now clutching at their chests while coughing roughly. The Drill Sergeants didnt even move to help them, just turning their heads and narrowing their eyes as they wrote down names. To Rhidis relief some of them were Human, so the shame didnt fully rest on the offworlders.
Drill Sergeant! A female Pwah called out, raising her hand and pointing to the stricken recruits with the other. Theyre choking!
Sucks to be them, then. Drill Sergeant Curahee said briskly, and ignored the hoarsely choking recruits. Recruits, at my command you will remove your masks once again, and recite the Onslaught Creed.
Alias growled out, staring inwardly at his visor. Ten percent?! What the hell is wrong with this thing?!
Execute! Drill Sergeant Curahee bellowed, and Rhidi ripped off her mask while closing her eyes, lurching into the Onslaught Creed.
Hail the Iron Victory! Rhidi called out with the rest of the non-stricken recruits, and she did her best to not breathe for as long as possible. With the weight of our duty we howl through the skies!
The Creed was always shouted, or yelled, and that left very little air in the lungs after skies was said. Rhidi, out of reflex, opened her eyes and inhaled, and it was like her lungs had suddenly been filled with needles of ice.
Huah! Rhidi coughed out, clutching at her throat and chest as the Johnny-3 shredded her lungs and flayed her mind; It was as if the gas was attacking her very thoughts, causing her vision to swim and sound to distort around her. Her knees buckled nearly as soon as she breathed in, snot instantly dripping down her mouth, and her single, strangled exhale blew ribbons of mucus down the front of her uniform.
Augh! Rhidi cried out, her fingers now lacquered with sticky strands of snot and lungs burning like fire. The Johnny-3 gas also made her ears hurt, as well as her teeth, and she was starting to think it may have actually been a partial nerve-agent. It took everything in her to not curl up into a little ball and cry, so she casted her tearing eyes about; At least everyone was suffering in some way, though the Humans seemed to be having a better time of it. The Kafya on the other hand were getting the worst of it, and snot bubbles were being blown everywhere.
Rhidis ears were buzzing so hard that she didnt even realize the Drill Sergeants were yelling, and she was jerked up onto her feet by rough hands.
Outside Recruits! Outside! Flap your arms! A Drill Sergeant was yelling, pulling Recruits to their feet and shoving them towards the open door. Flap flap flap! Fly away little birdies!
Rhidi tried to snort in anger, picking up the slightly distorted words, but all that did was shoot another load of mucus down the front of her uniform. The sunlight burning through the haze of the gas was blinding as Rhidi bounced off the door frame, but was plowed forward by the wheezing form of Alias with Shasta hot on his heels.
Rhidi drew in a huge, rasping gasp of fresh air and blew out, shredding the long strands of slime out onto the grass. Alias gave up the goat and bent over double, gurgling out a spray of vomit while Shasta danced away, trying to pull his own sheet of snot away with shaking hands.
Alias spat, mumbled out a curse in his mother tongue, then bent up with a sigh of anger. My mask wasnt working.
Thats because you were fucking with it, Pwah. A Human Technical Sergeant called out, snatching up the mask and opening the vent enough to peek inside. He then opened it fully, pulling out a small wad of applique-sealant. He flicked the gray goo away, shaking his head. Worried, were you? You clogged up the damn filter, Frodo, and we need to draw a new one now. Drill Sergeant!This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Alias didnt even look at the man, instead spitting out another cheekful of slobber and sniffing.
Mine worked. Rhidi said with hard cough, turning to look back at the door as she placed the mask back in its pouch. She had remembered Drill Sergeants Almoores warning, and had had a death grip on the thing the entire time.
Shasta groaned, wiggling a claw in his nose. Why would they gasssus? Itssso cruel
It lets you know your mask works, of course. Drill Sergeant McPhiston said as he materialized out of the pained haze, smiling to the three recruits as the others recovered. And, youll know what the poor bastards around you are feeling as you land. You will know they can neither see, hear, or even smell you properly. Seconds of time to butcher them with free reign. After that, thats where the real fun begins.
Rhidi, Alias, and Shasta stared at the Human with silent, disheveled, wary regard as he walked away, and they all slowly looked to each other as Drill Sergeant McPhiston called at them all to gather up.
There were a few who had to go back into the chamber and grab their masks, as well as Alias being sent back in to build confidence in both his mask and Human manufacturing practices. They were not, however, allowed to change their clothes, only being allowed to swap their uniform blouse for a clean one. The ruck back to their barracks was miserable, but Rhidi found her nasal passages clearer than she had ever known them to be.
Her wide open nasal passages did not help with trying to ignore the ever-present wafts of vomit that arose off of their ranks, along with the raw stench of chemical-ridden sweat and snot.
By the time they arrived at their barracks, they only smelled of sweat and sun, and were commanded to hit the showers. For the first time since their arrival, there was no Drill Sergeant waiting to command them into the fully tiled racks of shower heads; Since their arrival in Red Phase, a Drill Sergeant had always been there, commanding them to shower, bellowing at them to rotate and change shower heads, all while they stared on in fury. Getting used to the co-ed barracks had been weird enough, but co-ed showers had caused many to buckle.
It was not funny, per say, but watching a Pwah panic and run screaming, naked, from the shower had been a rather funny moment Rhidi would likely remember forever. While there were breasts, chests, and butts aplenty, all of the recruits were either too exhausted or too harried to really look around. Rhidi had usually just stared up into the water from the shower heads, wondering if getting married was still on the table back home
But now?
There was no one there, just a call out to be ready in forty five minutes for chow.
Rhidi, after getting back to her rack and shedding her soiled clothes, grabbed a fresh uniform, underwear (which Humans demanded they all wear, and the Kafya were issued mesh units for breathability), a towel, and trudged off for the showers.
Bathing was nothing new, but the UAA military seemed to view it with some kind of odd contempt; Kafya military bases had lavish bath houses where soldiers could wash and relax, along with gender-separated communal pools to soak. Here? Tile floors, tiled walls, and stainless steel fixtures that spat water.
It was as if the washroom itself was telling Rhidi to get washed and fuck off.
She was not alone there in the bench-room as she peeled off her well ruined under-clothing, and didnt even pay the male Pwah beside her a second glance as she trudged into the shower room. There were others here too, but none of them could even muster the energy to care; The Drill Sergeants had made it extremely clear that anyone caught being un-toward or sexual during training would get throttled with Article 15s, the name alone being akin to a hex cast upon the lowly ranks. While fully seasoned Human soldiers were known to be quite free with their affections, that courtesy did not extend to recruits still in training.
I found out why they have us in co-ed showers. Alias sighed out as he took a shower spot next to Rhidi, Shasta groaning sleepily from another place over as he turned on the hot water. Its to desensitize us to nudity.
Im too tired to care what your zindiho looks like. Rhidi muttered, quickly washing her face fur with the hot water before she grabbed the soap.
Alias, despite himself, chuckled. Well thanks for that, but no, this has been how UAA Humans have done things for nearly a hundred years now, since the Citizen Soldier movement before they joined the war. Both genders train, bathe, eat, fight, and die together. Getting used to their naked bodies helps them during combat, as no one gets bashful when they have to shove their hands down someones pants to stop a bleeding shrapnel wound.
That would have been handy with the Kafya. Rhindi mused, spitting water away from her mouth as she scritched her soapy fingers through her filthy face fur. We had male and female medical troopers, and it was forbidden for them to work on the opposite gender. Plenty of Kafya bled out on the field for want of the correct medic.
Only ssskistishi can be medical professionalsss in our military. Shasta said with a happy sigh as the hot water flowed down his flared hood. Non-producing malesss that failed to meet genetic ssstandards are chemically cassstrated and made into healersss.
Both Rhidi and Alias paused in their washing and grimaced at that, while around them other Lilgara were nodding.
Well, for us, fighting females are quite new. Alias said, leaning to the side to look at a naked female Pwah washing her face as hard as she could with a bathing cloth. It was rough in our armies, a lot of mishaps and cultural conflicts.
Not gonna be a problem here. A taller female Pwah said from the other side of the showers, though she had chosen a far more private corner area. She had her long lavender hair un-bunned, and was washing the snot out of it. Humans dont seem to give a single damn about nudity.
A male Human barked out a laugh, turning off his shower head. Dont say that. Our histories are quite comical when it comes to privacy. You should look up ankle scandals some time if you want a solid chuckle.
As it is, this is about duty. A raven haired female Human spoke up, walking through the shower bay brazenly. All are equal in the eye of the barrel, and bullets do not discriminate. She shoved the male Human out of the way, as that was apparently her shower head, and turned it on. In civilian areas, everything is kept separate and private, but not so much in the military. We have to prepare ourselves for weeks before we join.
Alias nodded at the logic, then shrugged. I always thought it was kind of funny, personally. Human medics were feared for their lack of care with nudity.
Feared is putting it lightly. Rhidi said with a smirk. I remember when a wounded male Khafya tried to run away from a Human medic, and when the medic caught him, she ripped off his pants and had to fight him to get his bleeding under control.
The Sihiti 2 incident! An extremely tall female Human called out, turning around fully to look at Rhidi. I remember that! It almost caused an IDC political war within the Kafya councils.
Rhidi, despite herself, had to blink and look somewhere else besides the tanned woman; Humans were quite famous for their biological oddities, and had some of the largest mammaries for their general height and evolution. This specimen nearly made Rhidi feel self conscious
Well, uh he survived, and that is what matters. Rhidi said with a nod, then elbowed Alias in the shoulder because he had been staring nearly as hard as Rhidi. Quit it.
Right. Sorry. Alias stammered, then looked up at Rhidi with raised brows that said Can you believe these people? Who evolves like that?
I know, I know. Rhidi expressed with her own raised brows, and a slight shake of her head.
Now fully clean, Rhidi left the shower and walked up to the body dryer. The Humans, clever as always, knew that the Kafya had fur, or that some of the races may have issues with towels, so they installed additional dryers within the walls of the bench area. These were long, six foot tall air-pushers that could blow a Kafya near dry in just under five minutes. During the earlier weeks, the Drill Sergeants had allowed them to do a quick spin under the blower, and then pushed them away from the next furred recruit. Now, Rhidi could actually fully dry herself, and she stood in front of the blower for as long as she wanted, slowly turning while fluffing out her tail.
Her first big push of air had accidentally showered a black, male Human recruit in loose water and fur, causing a bit of spitting and cursing while Rhidi apologized in a panic.
Gotdamn furries! He shouted, then dipped back into the showers to quickly rinse off the new spackling of yellow fur in his hair.
When he came back out, he held a towel over himself, as did all the other Humans while darting through the Kafya trying to get dry.
Rhidi toweled off the rest of the way and put on her clothes, leaving the bathing area just in time to see a female Human pulling a strand of red fur from her lips. She looked at Rhidi with eyes that said Are you serious?, while Rhidi just shrugged in a way that said Well its not mine, so.
Time was dwindling down quickly at this point, so Rhidi made her way down the stairwell into the mustering area, smoothing down her uniform blouse; Humans were fastidious about appearances, and all the Kafya had learned this the hard way. If you were wrinkled, you were a wrinkle, and Drill Sergeants didnt hesitate in ironing you out.
As she came out into the blazing sun, she turned and noticed that the little flag area was missing its usual red banners. Every barracks had this odd little display rack, in which flag-poles were stuck into it, arranging the flags in a kind of crest around the unit guidon. There were red banner bearing flag poles there before, but now there was only the guidon.
The twin-tailed banner fluttered happily from its pole, bearing the flaming drop-pod symbol on a horizontally bisected field of black and blue. Rhidi eyed the banner with a tilt of the chin, but the clamour of boots coming out of the stairwell made her turn her head away.
Everyone was forming up, so she fell into her Squads line within their Platoon. This had been a lot of their early weeks during this Red Phase; Falling into formations correctly, maintaining formations while on the move, marching, manoeuvring, and other mind-numbing exercises. The obstacle courses had at least been fun, in terms of moving around and problem solving, and she would rather do that every day than march around in boredom. The First Aid Course had been just as equally boring as it was alarming; Humans still relied on torsion based devices to stop bleeding, despite their supreme command over nano-medical tech and hemostasis solutions.
There had also been the whole CPR thing, which bewildered everyone, including Rhidi. She had never gone lip-to-lip with a fake Human before, and there was an odd challenge with their differences in anatomy. It was as if Humans forced fellow Humans to live, even if that meant manually filling their lungs with the breaths of the living.
Charming, and slightly romantic as Rhidi thought about it again.
Company! Atten-shun! Came a great shout from Drill Sergeant Curahee, and hundreds of boots came together, hands at the seams of their trousers and thumbs pointed towards the ground.
Hail the Iron Victory! Rhidi shouted out, her voice joining the hundreds of others as they shouted their MOS creed. With fire we fall!
All of them went quiet as the heavy boots of Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss came to their ears, the woman pushing open the front doors to the NCO Office attached to the barracks.
Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss was a massive female Human, standing at six foot three and had more muscle than most Human men. It was the second time Rhidi had seen the woman, and she still took her breath away when she saw her; Missing her left eye, Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss only had one, single blue eye left, the other covered by a leather eye patch. She had fists like hammers, and a body like a rugged cliff-face. She was the only female Human to claim over a hundred melee kills in battle, and still held the record at three hundred and thirteen Ur confirmed to be killed in melee by her own hand.
Her right arm was completely mechanical, having lost it during a boarding action on an Ur station, and had fought one armed until the medics dragged her away from the battle line. It was crafted and shaped to match her other arm, and it made her all the more terrifying. Her orange hair was cut close on the sides but left longer on top, giving her the appearance of a space pirate. Her ears were mangled by shrapnel fire, nearly looking like creative body piercings or scarification. According to the other Humans, she was considered quite ugly in terms of conventional attractiveness, but that didnt mean the sight of the woman didnt leave Rhidi staring in open fascination.
Her last name was from some other land known as Scotland, and Rhidi was curious if all women were like her there.
Recruits. Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss called out, and her voice was just as oddly feminine as it was the first time Rhidi heard it. Rhidi had thought she would sound like a bearess, but she sounded like any other mother would. As of now, after completing the NBC chemical chamber training, you have successfully survived to the White Phase stage of your training.
Four Drill Sergeants walked in from the corner of their vision, bearing flag poles that had fluttering white banners upon them. They placed them down into the holder one by one, until the flags all guttered under the guidon.
From here on in, your training only gets harder. Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss stated, slowly pacing in front of the arranged Company. You will be trained further in the art of hand to hand combat, harder, more thoroughly. You will now begin your training proper in our many weapon systems, your rifles, and anything else you may get your hands on while in the course of battle. You will take on the advanced confidence course, ascend, and repel from the Glory Towers, suffer The Long March, and finally, your hardest physical fitness test yet.
Rhidi felt an odd, fluttering pride in her chest; She had made it all the way to this next phase? Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss wasnt yelling at them or being mean? This was a good thing, right?
Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss continued, pointing a bladed, metal hand towards them. Many of you show promise, especially a few choice individuals from you who came to us from the stars beyond. All of you were rankless, lapel-barren worms when you arrived, but fifty of you will enter White Phase with iron at your necks.
Rhidis heart skipped an excited beat; Ranks? Now? How important was this?
Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss called out the name of a male Human, who fell out of the formation and quickly jogged up in front of the Double Dagger Senior Drill Sergeant. Rhidi was quite keen to know if she got one of these ranks, a single chevron of black iron, but her excitement died in her throat when she saw Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss place something on the mans lapel, then reared back her metal fist.
Rhidi heard the rank pins impact into bone, and she tucked her tail along with every other Kafya in the formation.
Blood pinner A male Human to her back right muttered. Great.
What does that mean, Human? A female Pwah whispered back, her voice audibly fearful.
It means shes a staunch traditionalist and earned all her ranks on the field. He whispered as the next name was called. If a Drill Sergeant earned all their ranks on the field of battle, they carry the duty of blood pinning the recruits they train.
Blood to remember, blood to pay. A female Human groaned out, shaking her head. Damn it to hell, I was hoping we got a normal one
Its a great honor to be blood pinned by a Double Dagger. Another Human hissed out. Do not cast fear onto our privilege!
Rhidi, on the other hand, was casting a lot of fear, and she visibly startled when Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss called out her name.
Huh?! Rhidi barked out, looking left and right before placing a pawed hand to her chest. Me? Why?! What did I do?!
To Rhidis surprise, Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss actually cracked a smile. Get up here, Recruit Rhidi, before I change my mind and give it to the purple Kafya behind you.
Said Kafya, not wanting to get a rank punched into her collar bone, gave Rhidi a swift boot in the ass, sending her stumbling forward out of the formation. Rhidi quickly made her way in front of Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss, making absolute sandwich meat out of the falling out movement, but came to attention in front of the massive woman, looking up at her with ears pinned back in anxiety.
Congratulations, Private Rhidi. Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss said quietly to Rhidi, setting the rank in place on her lapel. You have been chosen to receive the rank of Private for your excellent performance in both your Reception and Red Phase. Later on, your other lapel will hold your MOS badge, but well teach you that come Black Phase.
More phases great. Rhidi thought to herself as she turned her head and looked down at the dull, raw iron rank on her lapel.
Blood to remember, blood to pay. Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss stated quietly to Rhidi, then reared back her metal fist.
The impact of Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymosss fist rattled her bones from neck to toe, and Rhidi actually staggered backwards, letting out a harsh exhale of air as her lungs were forcefully voided.
She didnt get far, thanks to the swift grip of Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymosss natural hand, and she was pulled back to standing.
She smiled at Rhidi, pulling on the lapel to jerk the tines free with a dull noise of metal leaving bone. Hard to forget, youll find.
Rhidi could smell her own blood, even as Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss placed the pin-caps over the bloodied iron.
After that, two more female Kafyas and five male Kafyas received promotions, the rest being mostly Humans with a slew of Pwahs and Lilgaras.
Rhidis chest was hurting, more from the punch than the rank, but she felt proud. She thought it was pride, it felt like pride anyway, but it felt different than her other promotions in her peoples military. She had received the ranks by mail along with a congratulatory letter, and they were just a magnet you stuck to your combat suit. This felt more personal more real.
When all fifty three ranks were given, that left three hundred and twelve rankless within the training Company; They had suffered trickling losses, some due to cowardice, others to injury, but it already seemed like so few were left to Rhidi. This was only one of many training Companies, and Rhidi couldnt help but wonder how the others were doing.
Chow time, fuck bags! Drill Sergeant Almoore bellowed out, and even Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss squinted an eye at the woman in annoyance. Company! Riiight, face!
Boots churned the ground as the entire Company executed their right face, and Drill Sergeant Almoore took her position beside the Company as the guidon banner holders ran to the new front of their Platoons. For-ward, march! Left, left, left right-o left!
Boots left the ground at the same time, the entire formation jerking forward into motion with smooth, practiced ease. For the first time since they had started these formation marches to the chow hall, Drill Sergeant Almoore began to sing.
With the voice of smooth honey, Drill Sergeant Almoore began to sing cadence next to them. Rhidi wasnt the only recruit to lose their step as they jerked their heads around, wondering where the hell the voice of a solar-angel had come from.
Among the stars Ill make my way. Drill Sergeant Almoore sang out, her marching form perfect and not even short of breath despite the heat. Bulkheads of steel and iron gray!
Thankfully the Humans in the formation appeared to know what to do, repeating Bulkheads of steel and iron gray! in a ribcage vibrating yell.
Protein meal and bark-head bread. Drill Sergeant Almoore sang out again, and she seemed to be smiling. Itd make you want to eat the dead!
Rhidi sang along this time, and it was just another oddity about the Humans stacking up on all the others; Humans usually sang when they were miserable, breaking out into song even when they were melting in the heat or fussing with old mops in the barracks halls. The singing lasted all the way up until the chow hall, and Rhidi wondered to herself if it was some kind of way they also measured distance, or time.
Chow for the day was something called creamed turkey, which was one of the better ones due to how fast someone could eat it. It was hot as fire fresh, and required a fair bit of blowing on so that it didnt scorch the mouth and flame the stomach. She grabbed her metal tray, fork and shovel as the Drill Sergeants called it, and stood in line. There was no choosing in a Human DFAC, something they all learned during their first days on Sand Hill, and the cooks scooped or placed food on their trays as they moved down the line; Scoop of mashed potatoes. Scoop of creamed turkey. Scoop of stewed greens. Scoop of spiced apple compote. Fruit placed on tray. Hunk of bread and butter placed on tray. Square of cake placed on tray, and so on.
Rhidi then followed procedure, speeding down the salad bar and making a quick bowl of greens; They got yelled at if they didnt eat greens, and Rhidi had learned to stomach the leafy things. She was still terrified of being caught not eating a salad; A male Human recruit had been caught with an empty bowl, and had to shovel leafs of lettuce into his mouth while yelling, Mmm mmm! Hungry rabbits need their greens! for nearly an entire minute.
After finding her place to sit along the benches, she set down her tray and sped off to get her glasses of water.
Two bright red cups held to the chest, elbows out, and feet moving. She didnt know why she had to walk in such a stupid way, but she did because getting yelled at wasnt worth it. She got her water, having to ignore all the other drink options for the fully trained soldiers, and then hurried back to her seat.
Seconds meant the difference between leaving fed, and leaving hungry, and Rhidi had learned from Alias and Shasta the best way to eat; They always sat next to her too, which was nice. She ate the salad first, shoveling leaves into her maw and chewing as fast as she could. There was spinach again, these deeply green oval things that had a high iron content, and she hated the way they tasted most of all. She finished the bowl, still chewing as she scooped the stewed greens into her mouth as well. These were mustard greens, or at least she thought they were; Alias had figured out what was what, and they all agreed that turnip greens were the better of the choices.
From the greens, she ate the apples and then the bread with its butter, her teeth gnashing as fast as they could and swallowing only when her breathing allowed. The entire table was nothing but the sounds of teeth and fangs masticating, and trays being scraped with metal utensils. Rhidi chewed through her apple in record speed, and she quite enjoyed the crunchy little fruits. They reminded her of alpfwacka berries, if just bigger and with less seeds. Despite the logic, she left her cake for last; She loved what the Humans did with sweets, and cake was by far the best thing she had ever eaten so far while in training.
With her spoon she quickly shoveled her mashed potatoes and creamed turkey into her mouth, sniffing and whiping her cheek as a little bit of gravy spacked onto her fur. Eating like this would have been seen as barbaric on any other planet, but here they were, a bunch of little cavemen in training.
She quaffed an entire cup of water, warm this time after she had learned her lesson on cold water, then took a little bit more time with the cake.
Chocolate fudge cake, a little slice of the divine amongst all this hell, was worth risking time over.
With that finished, she dragged her tongue along her teeth, finished her water, then sat up straight, waiting for the command to leave.
After five minutes, Drill Sergeant McPhiston clapped his hands. Youre done! Put it away!
Recruits spat out food they were chewing; If you were caught chewing as you stood, you were likely going to end up on the table doing push ups until that food came out of you. Rhidi still vividly remembered being surrounded by three Drill Sergeants, bellowing at her to Spit it out! when she was caught chewing on a piece of chicken meat.
They all stood, picked up their trays, and deposited them in the auto-washer, a rather fussy machine that did the duties of dishwasher and food disposal.
It was another day in the books, the first day of White Phase, and Rhidi was just looking forward to going to sleep after such a shit go of it.
Drop Pod Green: A HFY Short Story Collection Ch 3
Black Powder Blues
Rhidi woke up with a slow blink; The usual shouting was there, but there were no trash cans being whacked with sticks.
A marked improvement.
Her Human Drill Sergeants were as punctual as ever, and Rhidi glanced over at the data-slate on her locker: 0600 hours. Right on time.
Unlike Humans, both the Kafya and other members of the Inner Dolcir Coalition required very strict sleeping regimens. Humans could sleep anywhere and at any time they wanted, but the same could not be said for their allies. Kafya alone required at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep in order to be considered rested, with the Pwah and Lilgara able to get away with a scant five. Once they were up, they were up, and moved like zombies until they could get another block of sleep.
In all honesty, no one had seen a planet like Earth; Everything just slept whenever the hell it wanted. One of the crippling attributes of the war had been the Ur pumping themselves full of narcotics and stimulants, allowing them to slowly grind their enemies to paste since they didnt require as much time to rest.
Humans were the weaponized answer to this.
They had napped their way to victory by slamming an hour or two of sleep, crushing several cans of commercial stimulants, and then lurching back into action like some kind of war-addicted monster.
Strict regulations were in place to make sure non-Humans got their sleep, agreed upon by the accord put into place before alien troops ever landed on Earth. To be kind, Humans gave the fragile children of the stars an extra hour, and Drill Sergeants were extremely punctual. Red Phase had been a chaotic hellworld when the Drill Sergeants received their calculations, and when 2200 hours struck the clock, Drill Sergeants actually threw Kafya, Pwah, and Lilgara into their racks.
Bed time! The Drill Sergeants would bellow, going as far as to hunt down missing troopers while the Human recruits rolled their eyes and climbed into their racks. Sleepy aliens need to go to bed!
One night, Rhidi had been trying to stay up late to make some logs in her data-slate, and she had been too slow to return to her rack during the fifth day. This resulted in her skittering down the barracks hallway, screaming in horror as three Drill Sergeants pounded after her, sniffing her out of the broom closet she had been hiding in.
She had been catapulted into her rack, then tied into place with her own sheets and blankets.
Thankfully, the Human recruits popped out of their beds when the lights were turned out, untying her since the other recruits were too terrified to get out of their racks.
The Human recruits would usually wake up around 0200 hours, puttering about and making sure all their gear was ready for the coming morning. They sometimes woke up Rhidi on accident, causing her to groan and bundle up in her blankets; While they were, technically, getting plenty of sleep, Rhidi had no idea where the hell the Humans got their energy from. Between all the drills, drag training, marches, rucks, and entry level battle drills, Rhidi felt as if she could sleep for twelve hours a day and still be tired the next morning.
She felt no different this first day of White Phase, and had been bumped awake several times during the early morning by Human recruits double-checking their lockers.
You have thirty minutes! Drill Sergeant Curahee called out as male and female recruits dragged themselves from their racks. Standard morning PT, shorts and shirts, with training to follow! It is a glorious day in the UAA Army, hooah!
Rhidis hooah was a little lackluster, but she fwipped her blanket away and stepped down onto the cool tile floor.
Make my bed. Rhidi mumbled, turning and flicking the blanket back into place while pulling her sleeping pants from the crack of her ass.
She hated this part the most, of all things; Kafya beds, even in the military, self cleaned. Here, on this damned planet, she had to make her own bed like some kind of backwater peasant. Rhidi couldnt think of a single yellow Kafya that would make their own bed, even her kind hearted father would balk at such a task. She ran the palm of her hand along the bottom of the mattress, tucking in the blanket and sheet, straightened them so they looked okay, then managed a passable hospital corner.
First task compleeete woo. Rhidi grumbled, then started changing into her PT uniform.
The first couple of days she had been bashful, trying to hide within her locker to change. Now, she was so tired she didnt even care that her tail brushed the naked legs of the male Human beside her.
Morning Rhidi. He said, pulling on his socks as he sat on his still messy bed in his underwear.
Rhidi held up a hand, fishing out her shorts as she kicked off her sleeping pants. Morning, Jackson.
Recruit Jackson was from some Human hellhole known as Kansas, but was a kind enough man. He had brown hair and brown eyes, but she figured he must have been a farmer, judging by his rough hands, scars, and well built body.
Ppt! Rhidi! A female Human spat from the other side of the locker aisle, and Rhidi turned, looking at her sleepily.
Oh, sorry Shorsey. Rhidi said, having bent over to grab her shoes and accidently whacking the woman in the face with her tail.
Recruit Shorsey was from Ontario, and was a mean little shit that could give as good as the males in training. Rhidi quite liked her freckles, and orange-ish hair.
Elbow room was tight while getting ready, and getting whacked by a tail or arm was common. The Pwah learned quite quickly to avoid and dodge elbows from all kinds, while Humans coined The IDC Hop as having to step and hop around the many tails from the Kafya and Lilgara.
Eventually they all made it outside, getting into formation, but Rhidi narrowed her eyes; There were Drill Sergeants missing, enough to make her quite nervous.
Drill Sergeant Mavericko, a black-skinned male Human that seemed to have not been born with hair atop his head, fell them out to the training field. The field was a large, grassy area in the middle of the barracks that was shared by the other training Companies. Charlie Company was on the far end, giving them a good area of grass to toil and suffer in. To her own annoyance, as they extended out to get their spacing, she found herself behind a bottom heavy blue Kafya with a larger, fluffier tail than the norm. This was common amongst the blues, and she found them insufferable; They were normally ditsy, airheaded, stupid Kafya whether male or female, and never failed to piss her off in some way.
Recruit Inthur was no exception, and half of their warm up exercises resulted in Rhidi getting whacked with Inthurs damn tail. After the third whack, Rhidi could have been used to boil water
Pashata holum. Rhidi swore under her breath, baring her teeth and having a mind to latch onto Inthurs tail should it come close again.
Having to stare at her large, stupid, wobbling butt while doing push ups nearly made Rhidis blood boil; The stupid blue could barely manage the bare minimum of push ups required just for morning PT, and was a huffing, whining shit when they went out on their runs. Worse still, she was a massive flirt, as blues were, and was already trying to get friendly with the male Humans.
Rhidi hated leadership positions, but the thought of being able to cuff the blue Kafya was nearly enough to make her take the position of Kholihl. Each gender for the Kafya race always had a leading male or female Kafya if there were more than ten of the same gender in one place. For the males, they had their Hohrlihl, and the females, their Kholihl. No one had made moves yet within their training Company, but that was more for the fact the Drill Sergeants did the job good enough on their own.
In time, though, a pair of Kafya would have to rise to wrangle the others; If not, things could get chaotic.
For PT, though, all there was left to do was sit ups before the two mile run, and Rhidi ended up paired with Inthur. It took every inch of Rhidis willpower to not glower down at Inthur as she struggled to complete her sit ups; How she got into the Kafya military was a mystery to Rhidi, but her blue-furred daddy likely had something to do with it. Rhidi was still surprised this blue-furred idiot was still here; The more rugged greens, reds, and oranges had lost some of their own, but here were the blues, holding out until the bitter end for some reason.
After their two mile run, Drill Sergeant Mavericko threw in a wild card with a new exercise: The buddy drag.
After seeing it done, Rhidi latched onto Inthur with a snap of her hand.
Ow! Rhidi, what are you doing?! Inthur wailed with a whimper as Rhidi dragged her over to the starting point.
Rhidi turned her bright yellow head towards Inthur, just enough so she could see the blues eyes. Training, my little battle buddy.
T-Training? Inthur whimpered, letting out a quiet squeal as Rhidi whipped her around, holding her by the wrists as the blue Kafya stumbled to the ground.
Drill Sergeant Mavericko raised an eyebrow as Rhidi took to the line with the other recruits; While everyone else had their fellow recruits in the normal drag hold of their arms around the chest, Rhidi had the other Kafya by the wrists.
... Exercise! Drill Sergeant Mavericko called out, and couldnt help but grin as Rhidi took off, knees pumping as she dragged a shrieking female Kafya behind her.
My taaaiiilll! Inthur wailed as Rhidi dragged her along the ground, the yellow Kafya growling as she put every inch of strength into her legs.
Rhidi was annoyed at how much drag weight the blue Kafyas giant ass produced, but by the time she reached the opposite line for the end of the exercise, she felt better as she tossed Inthurs limp arms to the ground; She may have been blue before, but her tail and legs were now green with dirt and grass stains.
Good time, Private. Drill Sergeant Mavericko chuckled out, tapping at his data-slate. Your form is sloppy, though.
Ill work on that, Drill Sergeant. Rhidi said with a panting, but satisfied, smile as she jogged off towards the starting line for Inthur to drag her as well.
She ended up being dragged by a female Human, as Inthur was too busy sniffing and sobbing while pulling grass from her ruined tail fur.
Drill Sergeant Mavericko knew he should have yelled at her to get up, but he couldnt even manage a straight face when he glanced over at the furry alien. Something was clearly going on between her and the yellow one, and he would have to keep an eye on that.
Rhidis high was short lived as they all went back to their barracks to change, and a sudden outcry of Oh come on! from a male Human made them all stop short, peering in through the double bay doors.
The barracks was a mess: Uniforms, underwear, socks, and personal items hung from the rafters, corners of the barracks, pipes, racks, and as one Pwah wordlessly found, stuffed into the toilets.
Rhidi had thought it was rather funny until she saw her own locker door was open.
Oh fuck me. Rhidi groaned, as Alias chuckled from his still tidy bed and locked, locker.
Now whos dipping into the slang... Alias said smugly, opening his locker to change.
Rhidi walked towards her rack and locker, and saw with a frustrated stare that her bed was made perfectly, as if someone had redone it for her. She leaned hard to the right, looking at her locker, and inhaled sharply through her teeth.
It was an absolute ruin.
Someone had combined all of her paw-boots together, tying multiple knots in all the laces and making a monster of the task. Her socks were full of shaving cream from someone else''s locker, all but a single pair she could use for the day. Her underwear was wrapped tightly around strips of beef jerky and laundry pods, then tied into place with dental floss. She opened her data-slate, which she had left attached to the locker, and her search history was nothing but dog collars from some place called Pet Smart. There were also data searches for Am I a good girl? and Is Drill Sergeant mad at me?.
Rhidi sighed and hung her head backwards, taking in the sounds of distress, chaos, rage, and depression that were circulating around the barracks in waves. She decided to just toss a lot of her stuff into the washing unit, the laundry room sitting across from the latrine and showers, and she was joined by the quicker moving of the others. Thankfully her uniforms were left mostly unscathed, but she had to gather her personal effects from some of the other recruits. One Human male had her mesh support-bras shoved into his locker, which was an awkward transaction with fist coughing and plenty of eye aversion; Her language books had been used in the creation of a book fort, which was quickly being torn down; All of her grooming combs and brushes were tossed into a grand pile at the far end of the barracks, and it took her quite a bit of time to snuff them out from all the others.
A female Lilgara was staring down at the floor, eyes narrowed, and as Rhidi walked past with her brushes, she saw that a Drill Sergeant had written out the Lilgaras name in blue detergent upon the ground.
As well as the message Ha ha, scale brain.
Thats rough. Rhidi murmured, patting the Lilgara on the shoulders. Come on, Ill help you wipe this up.
The Lilgara nodded, her hood flared out in anger, but it slowly fell back down to her shoulders as she turned to Rhidi. Thanksss Humansss are mean.
Yeah, they are. Rhidi said with a snort, then set down her brushes and grabbed a few towels nearby.
Despite their best efforts, the detergent had deeply cleaned the tile, and no amount of brushing or wiping could remove the name from the ground, left there in clean, white lines. Rhidi, literally, threw in the towel when she knew time was running low and she needed to change.
The Lilgara, Recruit Bisshi, thanked her with a wave as she too needed to change, and Rhidi opened her locker back up to grab a uniform.
Her final discovery came when she pulled it out, and a litany of Earthen canine biscuits poured out of the pockets of her trousers and uniform blouse.
Rhidi drew in a long, tortured breath as a few of the Human recruits let out quiet snickers, though Recruit Shorsey clicked her tongue.
Honestly, is nothing beyond them? Shorsey growled, kneeling down and picking up the dog biscuits along with Rhidi. You would think they would at least keep things non-rac-
Are you fucking kidding me?! Alias barked out, and both Rhidi and Shorsey raised their heads.
Alias was holding his pillow case up, and dozens of fake pointy ears were pouring out of it, along with a single pair of fake, pull on Halfling costume feet.
Shorsey narrowed her eyes, but as Rhidi had been lucky enough to watch the first movie on her flight down to Earth, she let out a light, trilling laugh. She laughed a little harder as Shorsey slapped her on the chest with the back of her hand, but even Shorsey had to smile and shake her head.
With the crop of doggy biscuits thrown away, uniform fluffed out, and the barracks bay cleaned up from the chaos, a call came from over the intercoms.
Prepare your fast-packs and limber up recruits, were going to the range. Trucks will be here in twenty minutes, and youll be downstairs in ten! Drill Sergeant Almoore bellowed, and they all began preparing their fast-packs.
Fast-packs were lighter, smaller than the larger rucksacks, carrying water, a spare uniform, cleaning kit, and anything else they may need during training for the day. They hadnt gotten to use them yet, and there were plenty of pleased looks around the barracks; Always using the massive rucksacks had sucked, to say the least.
They all ran downstairs in a wave, eager for both their first bit of weapons training and for the fact they wouldnt be walking there this time. Red Phase had been rather devoid of any actual range time, and this was quite exciting for a bunch of off-world military volunteers. Human rifles and pistols were akin to curiosities, and were never allowed to be in the hands of non-Humans due to the ritual-like nature of Humanity and their weaponry. Their crew serves were, however, used extensively, and many an M2 Browning had the names of planets etched into them by thankful members of the IDC.
All of their weapons were staged downstairs in their Company armory, ran by a perpetually tired looking E4, and he opened the doors for them all to run inside and grab their weapons. They got to grab them on days when they were doing training at the Company itself, lugging around the rifles like some kind of steel teddy bear.
Rhidi thought that, at least by now, they would have done a few dry runs of how to aim the weapons at targets, but it seemed she and her fellow children of the stars were going to learn on the job. They had learned the basics, pointing the weapons at little circles of paper on the wall while balancing metal coins on the receivers, but that was different than using them outside.
She turned to Alias, the Pwah blinking blearily despite his long night of sleep. Dont you think its odd that we arent you know, in a classroom learning how to use these? At least in dry runs on a simulator.
Were the odd ones out. Alias muttered, gesturing to the Humans around them with a wafting hand. All of these iron blooded lead slingers have been shooting rifles since the age of ten.
Ten?! Rhidi stammered out. Why?! Shouldnt they be learning in school, or playing in the forests?
Alias chuckled darkly. Oh, my little Kafya, they learn how to use them in their schools. Riflery is a non-elective course they have to pass in order to graduate. At least it is in the UAA, I dont think the EUC does that.
All students in the Unified American Authority leave high school as marksmen. A nearby male Human said with a nod, patting his rifle. We learn on older weapons, usually beat to hell M4s with the giggle switch removed.
Rhidi stared at the man in horror, then looked around at all the Human recruits around her. All of you all of you leave your entry level schooling knowing how to wield a weapon?
Long ranged, single fire weapons, yes. He said with a smile. The ranges are used to grow hay in between the school year, helps feed the animals over in the 4-H barns.
Alias slowly shook his head from side to side with a smile, all while Rhidi looked at the male Human as if he had grown two heads.
Drill Sergeantsss coming. Shasta hissed out, and Rhidi noticed that his long loop of soda-can tabs had grown by nearly double. At this point if he were to walk, it would make an audible clinkIf you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
The Drill Sergeants wasted no time in calling them to attention, issuing an about-face order to walk towards their awaiting transports. The guidon bearers always hated this, as they had to run around their Platoon and come to the new front facing of the formation. As they marched out towards the parking lot, Rhidi got her first sight of their Human transportation.
She had a sudden thought that she may actually prefer walking.
Three cattle cars were sitting and waiting, basking in the warm morning sun like giant steel whales. These were the full size of a semi-truck trailer, and hauled by the same vehicle. Made of steel, iron, rubber, and powered by sour-diesel, Rhidi remembered seeing something similar in their museums back home. Both the cab and the trailer of the cattle car were painted in the colors of black and blue for the drop-pod infantry, with the middle of the trailer bearing a strip of olive drab green.
There were windows kind of. They were maybe a foot wide and eight feet long, but at least natural light could get in. Along the side of the trailer were two double-folding doors, with an emergency hatch at the rear.
Lets go! Onto the cattle cars! Drill Sergeant McPhiston called out, shoving a recruit forward by their pack. Take too long and were not turning on the air conditioning!
Rhidi would have thrown people on the bus herself if she could have, but instead opted for leaping on and getting the process started. To her confusion there were no seats in this trailer, just places to stand and bars hanging from the sealing.
Nut to butt, now! Cram it in there! Drill Sergeant McPhiston bellowed again, and Rhidi found herself quickly shunted forward towards the rear of the trailer.
Recruits piled into the trailer until the Drill Sergeants were satisfied, taking their positions at the bottom of the stairs that held the doors. The other Platoons were shoved into the other trailers, with the remnants of the latter Platoons getting a roomier ride in the less-filled trailer.
They were also riding with the rest of the Drill Sergeants, and Rhidi wasnt sure if the extra room was worth it.
Due to the cramped nature of this ride, Rhidi found her fast-pack crammed into the corner of the trailer with her tail, and she was face to face with a male Human recruit who was one of the few to receive a promotion.
Rhidi cleared her throat and tried to look around, but it was hard to look at anything but the six foot tall man in front of her. It didnt help that their knees were touching, or that the lurching of the truck moving caused her to squeeze against him.
Sorry. Rhidi said lowly, sniffing as she kept her vision locked to the bottom left.
He just shrugged, head slightly tilted due to the Lilgara beside him failing to manage her reptilian head hood. Sokay.
Kafya noses were good, real good, and she could smell the ancient motor oil in his hair, along with the warm scent of something else. He had rough and cracked hands, as if he was a miner, and had eyes like forest moss. It looked odd against his brown hair, cut short in the recruit-cut that all the Humans had. Rhidi and the other races had been spared this ritual, being allowed to keep their hair as per normal due to their different cultures. He had a strong, oval chin, and was as annoyingly built as all the other Humans were.
Rhidi had thought the Kafya strong during the war, and assumed that a lot of the strength that came from Human warriors was their armor. Her months here on Earth had taught her that Humans were unsettlingly strong, and made her understand just how weak her own race was due to their technological advances.
Normally she had thought male Kafya quite strapping, as was custom with the yellows, but being chest to chest with this Human male
... So, uh, Private Morris. Rhidi began, keeping her voice low as she glanced up at the Human. Did you work in mines, or?
Mines? Morris said with a laugh. No, I was a mechanic.
Rhidi perked up her ears. Oh! You work the uh engines and such? Of automobiles?
Trucks, mostly. Morris said with a smile, but both he and Rhidi let out a shout of alarm as the semi-truck slammed on its brakes, avoiding an errant Officers wife running a red light.
The semi-truck driver then hit the gas to clear the intersection for the other trucks behind, and this caused Morris to slam backwards into Rhidi, the two being crammed into the corner as all the recruits were sent hollering into the rear of the trailer. Morris, for his credit, held up his elbows, keeping Rhidi from being crushed by his own bulk. This did however mean he was face to face with the bright yellow Kafya, and Rhidi felt the mans chest press hard against her own.
There was an awkward six seconds as all the other recruits settled, and Morris was finally able to lean back, now clearing his own throat and running a hand down the front of his uniform; Rhidi was not super well endowed, unlike Recruit Inthur, but there was enough of her to let Morris know what his chest was pressing against.
Sorry about that. Morris murmured, and it seemed to finally click with him that Rhidi was a woman, his neck flushing.
Rhidi waved a hand between the two of them as she pinned her ears back; It was difficult with the blood now rushing to them. No no! Its fine, I appreciate you not crushing me.
Shasta let out a quiet snicker, both Morris and Rhidi looking over at the Lilgara who was pinned between two Pwah.
Rhidi let out a low growl from her throat, ears still pinned as best as she could, while Morris squinted at Shasta.
Are those soda can tabs? Morris asked, pointing across his chest at the long chain of soda can pull tabs that hung near Shastas right pocket.
Shasta grumped, flaring his hood as best he could while pinching his brow-ridges together. Mind your own businesss
Rhidi stuck her tongue out at him, which made Morris laugh, and Rhidis ears to perk up a little taller.
The ride to the range was short, in terms of distance, but having to breathe in Morris for the entire ride had made it feel like an eternity to Rhidi. By the time she got off the cattle car, she pretty much had his cologne and toothpaste flavor locked into her brain for life. The range was a basic looking creature, one of the few used for the zeroing of rifles and nothing much else. These were known as short-stop ranges due to them only being twenty five UAA yards in length.
Rhidi narrowed her eyes at that memory as she fell into formation; The UAA and EUC still refused to use the same units of measure, and she had even heard that stone was used in an even more stubborn EUC country. Every member race of the Inner Dolcir Coalition used the same measurements, but here on this little dirt rock they still couldnt decide on just one.
Along the range was a wooden overhang to provide cover for the shooters, a large latrine towards the rear of the range, the ammo dump, bleachers, and what appeared to be a sprinkling of dark green sand bags all up and down the range itself. It was basic, sandy, and as per usual, surrounded by the tall pine trees of Fort Benning.
The Drill Sergeants ran them through the zeroing process while they ate bar rations for breakfast, at which they would use their iron sights to make sure the weapon could strike a target at three hundred yards. The number alone made all of the non-Human recruits glance at each other warily; Three hundred yards was akin to five hundred lardil, and the fact Humans were hitting targets with non-augmented, or digital, sights at that range made them all a little uneasy.
They formed lines and went to the ammo dump to collect their magazines for the rifles; Rhidi found them extremely heavy, nearly triple the weight of a power cell for her old gaur-rail carbine. Guar-rail carbines slammed a titanium dart at four times the speed of sound, but proved to be lackluster against Ur shielding technology. The darts traveled so fast they would hit, and then skip off the Ur shields, warbling off into the distance uselessly. The weapons of Humanity instead threw a 30-06 lead bullet at their targets; Battle rifles, such as the SR-113 Mod. 2, used the 30-06 Oakley, a shortened version of the round that used a far more powerful propellant. This allowed a better magazine capacity, as well as cutting down on size without handicapping the round too heavily for ranged effect on target. Other rifles, such as ones used by marksmen, used a full sized 30-06 Heritage... and were rather frightening, as Rhidi had seen the pictures of what they had done to the Ur.
They were all given a hundred and twenty rounds, but there was a smug smirk on all of the Human recruits faces that made Rhidi worried. Her alarm only grew when the recruits were segregated, all of the Humans going first as they formed their sticks behind a range slot. The Drill Sergeants pulled out their data slates, walking behind the many shooters and looking over their prone forms to the berm.
Targets up! Drill Sergeant McPhiston called out, and someone in the ammo dump hit a switch.
Along the berm, target modules slowly trundled up from their hidden dugout within the ground; They were tall, black figures on a field of white, while in the middle was a white circle with a smaller red circle within it. The figures were vaguely humanoid, Rhidi guessed, and a green light pulsed from the bottom of the display hangers. Everyone put in their ear protection, which was easier said than done for the Kafya; Regular electronic earmuffs worked just fine for everyone else, but with their tall, animalistic ears, Kafya required inner-ear electronic dampening pods.
Rhidi was extremely ticklish within her ears, and she kept giggling trying to get them in place.
Commence zero protocols. Drill Sergeant McPhiston called out in a bored tone when he saw that everyone was ready, and the range erupted with gunfire.
Recruit Inthur and three other blue Kafya let out a yelp of pain, as they had bumbled their inner-ear dampening pods. Other Kafya and Lilgara had to come to their rescue, the Pwah just ignoring them as they watched the Humans keenly.
Rhidi, along with the Lilgara and other Kafya, were watching as well; The iron sights on these SR-113 rifles were an odd arrangement of a turning-barrel rear sight, and a hooded-peg front sight at the end of the barrel. Rhidis old weapon, as well as other highly advanced weapons in the IDC, did not have manual sights, instead relying on an electronic suite to make sure rounds landed on target. They had all studied the pictures and manuals before, but seeing it in action was completely different.
The Humans were fast, firing a single round every second and then pausing after they fired their third shot. The sudden burst of noise and silence was deafening in the weirdest of ways, leaving all of the non-Humans staring on in confusion.
Recruit Simpson, one click right, confirm with three more rounds. Recruit Maverick, zeroed, exit the lane. Private Herlick, zeroed, exit the lane. Drill Sergeant McPhiston listed off, and slowly Human recruits began exiting and entering the range in a steady stream. The target hangers would slide down when a recruit would leave the bay and come back up with a fresh target, ready to go for the next shooter.
Rhidi sought out Alias, who was in a group of other Pwah, and they were staring hard at the range while muttering. Alias! How quickly-
Three rounds. Alias said quickly, waving his hand at Rhidi in a motion that asked her to keep her voice down. Nearly all of them are zeroing their weapons with only three rounds, that doesnt make sense.
A female Pwah turned to Alias, her pink-lemonade colored hair bright in the sun from under her patrol cap. Im telling you, they were using some kind of Human ritual magic! I told you how I saw them taking the bolts of their rifles out, and they kept looking down the barrel with a little mirror!
How would they zero a weapon with a mirror?! Alias hissed. And while staring at a wall with black circle drawn on it?
The female Pwah stamped her feet. There was also a line from the center of the circle! I dont know how they did it, but they all pre-zeroed their weapons and didnt even bother telling us how!
... Theyre going to humble us. Rhidi said quietly, her voice easily heard with the electronic muffs they all wore. Were all going to look like a bunch of bumbling idiots out here
Shit. Alias spat, and the other Pwah sighed out, resting their hands on their hips.
In only half an hour, all of the Human recruits had zeroed their weapons via their iron sights. They all now lounged in the bleachers, watching the non-Human recruits as they formed lines of their own. True to Alias and the other Pwahs math, the Humans averaged just three rounds to zero, but none of the children of the stars had been able to do whatever the hell the Human recruits had done earlier with their rifles.
This led to them all going in raw, and Rhidi just hoped they wouldnt bring shame to their planets and people with this display.
Rhidi, regardless of those around her, had studied the manuals quite deeply to understand these iron sights; These were normally used as backups, just in case the main optic suite was damaged during battle and the helmet could no longer communicate with the weapon system. They were also used in cases where the enemy had devices to see the glow or energy readouts of the optic suite, known as going to irons. The Ur had been stumped by this, as they had been enjoying a leg-up by knowing where their enemies were by the glow of their advanced targeting systems.
The barrel of the rear sight could be rotated, a four position rotary UAA diopter device: There was an open facing used for close quarters, then a series of peep holes for the other ranges. They had been told to zero their rifles on the 2 setting, then adjust with the barrel for longer ranges. I felt odd to Rhidi, zeroing the rifle for two hundred UAA yards on a twenty five yard range, but then again the targets were also calibrated for maintaining that zero
She thought better of overthinking it all, and just settled into the sandbags when it was her turn to shoot. Finally getting into a lane had been slow, and it was a bitter taste watching one Kafya take fifty seven rounds to zero their rifle. That stupid tart Inthur was on her fourth magazine, and she had two female Human recruits trying to help her get the damn rifle inline. They were all military, after all, and the streams of failures was a hard sting.
Rhidi fussed with her cargo pocket and pulled the magazine free; Normally, as she had been told by the soldiers in the ammo dump, they would all have some kind of battle webbing to hold their magazines, or a plate carrier, but the Drill Sergeants didnt want to deal with turning in gear in case more non-Humans split.
She plugged the magazine into the flared magazine well, turned her rifle to the side, and racked the charging handle with an oddly satisfying kchunk! of the bolt. She then brought the rifle to her shoulder, looked through the rear sight, and froze.
She had no idea what she was looking at.
It was just a damn stick!
Rhidi blinked through the rear sight as sweat coursed along her fur, both from the heat and from pure nerves. Her tail gave an awkward wag as she remembered what the manuals said, and she tried her best to keep the front sight hood in line with the rear circle, only leaving the peg visible. She placed the center of the red circle along the top line of the front sight post, and then slowly pulled back on the trigger.
The rifle barked, making her close her eyes as the piston cycled and gave her shoulder a light punch. She blinked open her eyes, then wagged her tail.
Well, that wasnt so bad. Rhidi breathed out with a smile, though she could hear Inthur crying like an idiot a few lanes over. She rolled her eyes and brought her rifle back up to her eye, and slowly squeezed off two more rounds.
Rhidi had to remind herself to aim for the same spot every time, even though she saw she was shooting way left. The 30-06 Oakley round was a stout little beast that thumped her shoulder harder than any other weapon she had used, but the mechanical actions of the weapon itself held an odd, satisfying sway over her. With her ear so close to the weapon due to the cheek weld, she could even hear everything working as the bolt came back into the springs.
After she had shot her three rounds, she placed her selector to safe and held up her hand, giving it a little wave. Her hand was, of course, bright yellow, and it was hard to miss.
Yeah yeah, I see you safety belt. Drill Sergeant Curahee called out, holding up his slate as stepped over to the lane and squatted down beside her. He pulled up her target, and Rhidi was surprised to see him smiling. Well hell, looks like its just the blue and pink ones that cant shoot for shit. Youre grouping left, lets take er a few clicks to the right.
Rhidi nodded, smiling brightly as she took the offered screwdriver and unlocked the rear sight, allowing her to adjust the windage just enough to satisfy Drill Sergeant Curahee.
He took back the screwdriver after she tightened back down, then pointed a bladed hand downrange. Alright furball give me three, aim as you should.
Yes, Drill Sergeant. Rhidi said, and quickly got back behind her rifle. She felt a little giddy as she slowly squeezed off three more rounds, her ears wobbling along with her tail as she fired.
Drill Sergeant Curahee looked back down at his data-slate, then tapped at it a few times with an approving nod. Well well well, looks like you arent a useless bag of dog biscuits after all.
Rhidi snapped her head around to look at the Human, and he was grinning.
Private Rhidi, you are zeroed. Exit the lane and turn in your ammo. Drill Sergeant Curahee said with a wink, then stood up to go check on a Pwah that had his hand held up.
You mother fucker. Rhidi grumbled, remembering that phrase from the other Human recruits.
She cleared her weapon and stood up, though her anger evaporated when she turned in all but six rounds of her ammunition. Nearby a few of the Human recruits were watching, and a female let out a long whistle.
Wooow, look at you! Only six rounds to zero. She said, her blonde hair rippling in the bright sun. What is big blue butts problem then? Shes gone through six magazines so far!
Rhidi shrugged, allowing herself the pleasure of leaning against the turn-in counter to the ammo dump. Not all Kafya are created equal, some of us are dumber than the rest.
I see The female Human hummed, then crossed her arms across her flat chest. So what do all the colors mean? Are you based off of a sect system, or is it like a caste?
Rhidi chuckled and shook her head. No no, not a caste, its more like a clan kinda thing. Browns, reds, and oranges are usually our warrior clans, while the blues, pinks, and yellows work in society. Er civilian sector, I think you call it. Blacks, greens, and whites work wherever they can, really, while purples and golds tend to be in leadership positions. Its not a strict system, but there are just patterns that are too obvious to ignore and certain colors flow freely. We all tend to marry and stick with our own clans, but sometimes they do mix, why you find oranges and grays running around sometimes.
So what does your clan do, then? You are obviously yellow, yet here you are in the military. A male Human recruit asked, though he was thinner than the other males with lightly tanned skin and black hair.
Rhidi pressed her lips together, and leaned up off the counter. Uh well. My father works in accounting, but my sister and mother are models
There was a collective snort of laughter, and Rhidi hung her head backwards as the small gaggle of Humans began to laugh.
Its not funnnyyy! Rhidi drawled out, even though she felt the shame crawling up her spine. Its just its what they do! They put on clothes and model-
Two of the female Human recruits struck poses of a modeling fashion, and Rhidi pinned her ears back.
Oh, shut up. Rhidi growled, but even she had to laugh as the two women started stepping towards the bleachers in a cat-walking strut.
Rhidi took a seat with the Humans and the other, faster off-worlders, and they collectively watched as the rest of the recruits did their best to zero their weapons. Inthur, finally, got her weapon zeroed after it turned out she was looking above the diopter sight, and after discounting the blunder of the blue Kafya, it took an average of thirty rounds to zero for the non-Humans.
Horrible, in comparison.
Rhidi had made it out along with Alias in the club of only needing six rounds, as did a lot of the Pwah and brown Kafya. The Lilgara took particular issue with the iron sights, and needed on average thirty rounds to figure out how it all worked in practice.
With this being the only task for the day, and it being Friday, they were all bussed back to their barracks and given the rest of the day off for recovery. The ride back had been less pleasant, as Rhidi was crushed in between two male Lilgara, but she did manage to give Private Morris a little wave when they caught each others eyes.
He was crammed in between two female Pwah, but they were far less annoyed than he was judging by their faces.
They arrived back, unloaded, and then set about their recovery tasks. Weapons were cleaned but not turned in, instead staying with them in the barracks and hung on ready hooks at the end of their racks.
Rhidi focused her free time on her laundry, tossing the wet clothes into the dryer and putting her more delicate things into a mesh bag, so they wouldnt get tangled. With that done, she cleaned up her locker, swept up even more dog biscuits when they fell out of the pockets of her other uniforms, and arranged everything back into a logical order.
By the time she got all of her paw-boots untied, it was time for lunch. Breakfast had been those dreadful bar rations, which seemed to be more like a dense, greasy cookie than anything else, and she was wanting some actual food.
They formed up, marched to the DFAC, and she once again ran through the entire rigamarole of getting food: Sometimes the Drill Sergeants liked to quiz them on random facts, or make them recite creeds before they were able to go inside.
With tray, fork, and shovel in hand, Rhidi made her way down the line; Today was apparently enchilada day, and Rhidi had never heard of such a dish. She rounded the corner to the dishing line of the cooks, and her nose was assaulted by so many scents that her mouth wasnt sure whether to water, or recoil.
Congratulations on White Phase, Private. The cook said, a massive male Human that was as wide as he was tall, and as bald as he was sweaty. They wont tell you this, but you get fifteen minutes to eat now, so try and taste the food this time, eh?
Rhidis tail wagged involuntarily at both the news, and the serving of chicken enchiladas the man spatulated onto her plate.
Despite the rumors and songs, the civilian contractors on Fort Benning took a great amount of care and pride in their food, and these odd little wraps looked delectable. She sniffed lightly at them as she was given a scoop of tomato rice, a scoop of pinto beans, a slice of cornbread, and a weird, jiggly dessert round that was covered in some kind of brown liquid.
She quickly got her bowl of salad, moving around a week 1 Red Phase recruit that was telling the entire DFAC he was a hungry rabbit while a Drill Sergeant bellowed into his ear, and set down her tray. She quickly got her water, again moving around another week 1 Red Phase recruit that was saying glub glub thirsty fishes need water after spilling their own cup, and sat down to finally eat.
Rhidi leaned down and breathed in the odd little wraps; The light green sauce was tangy and made her mouth water fully this time, and the white drizzle of cream flirted with her nostrils. It smelled spicy, that was the word, some kind of pepper that the Humans loved to consume with gusto.
Rhidi hoped that the cooks remembered that not all of them were Human, and turned down the heat a little bit.
She grabbed her fork, cut away a hunk of the enchilada, and took her first bite.
The flavorful explosion on her tongue actually made Rhidi touch her face with her free hand as she chewed, and her tail wagged unconsciously behind her. The sauce was tangy, slightly sweet, and bursting with the gusto of vegetables she couldnt name if she tried. Laden with more spice, salt, and pepper, the shredded chicken was also layered with cheese, creating a whirlwind of pleasure in Rhidis mouth.
She quickly scooped up another forkful of the enchiladas and popped it into her mouth, happily kicking her paw-boots back and forth along the tile under the table. As she chewed this second mouthful, she figured out the wrap was made of soft corn.
Had to be corn, it tasted similar to the cornbread and was yellow.
She remembered her salad and quickly ate it, then swiftly took down half of the scoops of pinto beans and rice. Watching the Human recruits, Rhidi saw them putting the rice, beans, and enchiladas together; She got a little bit of all three on her spoon and popped it into her mouth. The combination of textures and flavors were found to be highly agreeable to her palate, and she quickly ate the rest of her food in record time.
It was not for being rushed, but more for enthusiasm than anything else.
The weird, jiggly thing was a force to be reckoned with, and the weird, slimy texture nearly made Rhidi blow it out of her nostrils as she gagged. It was sweet, sure, but that was not a mouth feel that Rhidi could ever find herself getting behind.
She instead gave it to Shasta, who slurped it down whole as if it was an egg.
Still retching lightly from the flan, as she found out it was called, they put away their trays, and made their way back towards the barracks after forming up. The rest of the day was a calm blur as the Drill Sergeants left them to their own devices, and Rhidi got all of her laundry done with little drama to be had.
With her socks not full of shaving cream and tucked away, she spent the rest of her day scrolling along her data-slate, reading up on the histories of Humanity and having a long, long dive through something called The Viking Age. She found it to be an apt analogy to current Human society; Warriors in arms on a voyage across seas known and unknown, laying waste to the lands beyond.
She couldnt help but chuckle at that, and read long enough that she was caught off guard by the call for lights out.
Limited Freedoms
It was the first Saturday where Rhidi felt as if she had slept.
The Drill Sergeants had habitually woken them up on Saturdays at the same time as all the other days, dragging them outside for PT and further trying to break their spirits. This first Saturday of White Phase, they were woken up a whole hour after their usual time, and were given the block of an hour to do their own PT out in the field.
They were not left fully alone, as the Drill Sergeants hovered around and made sure they were actually doing their workouts, but Rhidi did her usual exercises and then a short run around the track that ran along the outside of the barracks. The odd calm about the day did make her nervous though, as it felt as if there was an ambush waiting for them the entire hour they were outside. The Human recruits seemed just as wary, which was comforting to Rhidi.
When PT was done and uniforms changed out, they were sent out of formation to the DFAC, able to walk amongst themselves in pairs or small groups. Rhidi walked along with Alias and Shasta, enjoying the calm Georgia morning. At the same time, the Drill Sergeants prowled around the wings, watching keenly for those who were foolish enough to tuck their hands into forbidden places.
One such Human recruit found his folly when he absentmindedly slipped his hand into his upper pocket.
Drill Sergeants seemed to swarm out of nowhere like a plague of infamy, descending upon both the recruit and the others around him. Rhidi, Alias, and Shasta kept their heads forward, but their eyes were locked to the left as they watched.
Boom! A mortar has landed amongst you and Recruit Greyson is wounded! Carry him! Drill Sergeant Mavericko howled, shoving Recruit Greyson to the ground in a sprawling roll as the other recruits froze.
When they failed to move as quickly as desired, Drill Sergeant Curahee kicked the feet out from a female Human. Shrapnel wound! Recruit Franting is now down!
Rhidi observed that there were only six standing Humans now, and their numbers were dwindling by the time the alive recruits began grabbing their fallen fellows to drag them away.
A male Lilgara and female Pwah were caught talking to each other, in which they were set upon by Drill Sergeant Prince. Rhidi didnt know a lot about Drill Sergeant Prince, except that she was a nasty piece of work just like Drill Sergeant Almoore. While Drill Sergeant Almoore was a pale-skinned, marred beauty, Drill Sergeant Prince had skin like bronze and hair as black as night. She bore a handsome, proud, alluring face that held her dark eyes like a crown, with thick lips that should have been a gift rather than a warning.
When she bore her campaign hat upon her head, it was like her entire visage changed, fouling into a bared-teeth assassin that killed your good day and turned it into a nightmare.
What are you talking about?! Drill Sergeant Prince screeched, coming right to the face of the now startled Lilgara, his hood flaring. Are you conspiring against my army in your hissing language, snake boy?!
The Lilgara was outwardly, and inwardly, panicking, his hood dropping and flaring so quickly it looked as if he was trying to fly away. N-No, Drill Sssergeant! I would never!
Drill Sergeant Prince then spread out her legs, refusing to bend down and instead fully posturing before the shorter Pwah. Rhidi found it to be an impressive feat of strength, if all things.
Drill Sergeant Prince slammed her hands to her hips, eye to eye with the Pwah in her wide-legged power stance. Was he about to call down his reptilian attack ships Recruit? Are you aiding and abetting a possible future enemy?! Where is Santas workshop?! Tell me now, damn you!
W-What?! The confused Pwah stammered out, her near-neon blue hair fraying out in instant fright. W-W-Were not planning an invasion D-Drill Sergeant!
Good grief Rhidi muttered under her breath, though she was having to fight to not laugh.
Alias pursed his lips as he opened the doors to the DFAC for Rhidi and Shasta, the smells of cooking bacon and pancakes hitting them right under the nostrils. Always with the Santa jokes
Rhidi liked Human breakfasts; Kafya morning meals were usually just a bar of something or other, compressed edible material that was lightly sweetened and quickly chewable. A lot of food for the Kafya were in a bar or gel-orb of some kind, since cooking was seen as frivolous time wasting in comparison to gaining knowledge or working to better Kafya society. The more indulgent parties of the powerful had chefs brought in from off-world, usually Pwah or Kojynn spice masters.
A run of the mill citizen of the Kafya masses settled for meal bars and gels, but they at least had different flavors.
That did not appear to be the norm here on Earth, and Rhidi had to admit that it was spoiling her. As she grabbed her tray and utensils, she eagerly slid down the line and held out her tray for everything; Pancakes smeared in peanut butter, bacon, sausage patties, eggs (over-easy because it added moisture and were faster to eat), grits, buttered toast, these odd, fried hash brown ovals, and finally a single banana to round it all off.
It was one of the few times they were able to drink something other than water, and that glass of orange juice was a beacon of hope for Rhidi everytime she woke up for the day.
After getting her drinks she sat down to eat, looking over to Drill Sergeant McPhiston as she took a sip of that sour, sweet, tangy juice. He seemed more at ease, but still had that muggy expression on his face.
The table filled fast, and when every seat was taken he clapped his hands together twice, speaking out in a calm tone. Fifteen minutes starts now, recruits.
Starts now? Rhidi thought to herself, looking down at what was left of her food; She had been busy shoveling food into her mouth and was already halfway done, and she was now getting another fifteen minutes?
Rhidi sighed out, having wished she had known that in order to really enjoy the pancakes a little while longer, but instead started peeling her banana.
Bananas were an odd fruit, and not one Rhidi felt confident eating. Humans ate them tip first, but Rhidi preferred to eat them from the side.
With the awkward food item out of the way, she finished up the rest of her breakfast with a final lick of her teeth, sitting back on the round seat and slowly sipping her water. Drill Sergeant McPhiston was watching his data-slate with narrowed eyes, as well as tapping the bandolette on his wrist; Humans were extremely hot-blooded, and Drafritti scientists gave them all sorts of thermally-powered tech.
The Drafritti were an old little people of the stars that barely reached four feet in height and averaged at three feet in height, not counting their ears. They were a heavy armed race with a longer reach than most, ending in hands that always seemed to be twice the size they should have been. Rhidi had found them terribly weak when she met with their engineers, but they were sharper than talwori rods and twice as clever. When Humans first laid eyes on the Drafritti, they were instantly enamoured with the shorter star children.
The general Human view on the Drafritti was, Its like they mixed a Halfling with a fox bat!, and Humans became deeply protective of them on every base they arrived on. When a Drafritti engineer Company had been surrounded by Ur decimation units, the Humans had arrived in such overwhelming force that it was nearly comical. The Drafritti however knew a good thing when they saw it, and wrapped themselves in the warm, heavily armed and armored arms of Humanity.
This caused political issues within the Inner Dolcir Coalition; The Drafritti were extremely advanced technologically, and they were all hoping to absorb the race into their holdings and gain access to said advances. Instead, the entire race opted to join the UAA, leaving a single nation on Earth in control of multiple planets in the Tall Ear system.
It was awkward, putting it shortly.
The Drafritti noticed quickly how Humans always ran hot, as well as their deeply iron-rich blood, and used Humans to test multiple battery systems. This led to the creation of the bandolette and other such systems, their batteries charging on just the heat coming off of their skin. In return for their aid and tech, Drafritti enjoyed the tightest alliance with Humanity and prime colony locations within the Appalachian Mountains. Humans were exploding in number along other planets, and many older towns needed filling anyway.
Rhidi eyed the bandolette, wondering what else Humans were up to when it came to being the galaxy''s biggest best friend race.
Youre done, put it away. Drill Sergeant McPhiston said crisply, though there was nothing for the recruits to put away.
Wasting any food at this point was folly, and the Lilgara had even eaten their banana peels.
You have five minutes to run back to your racks and grab your fast-packs. Im taking you down to the troop store. Drill Sergeant McPhiston said, then clapped his hands. Starting now.
The troop store meant better shampoo and conditioner, and with showers being a non-express function now, Rhidi launched into action as if she had been prodded with a shock pole. Five female Pwah and seven female Kafya were hot on her heels as they slammed their trays into the auto-washer, which trilled angrily at them with a wave of its metal arms. Humans had an odd affinity with AI driven machines; They gave them the ability to grow personalities, and this one had become rather miffed over time.
Rhidi did not linger long on the woes of a machine whose job was to wash dishes, instead laughing with the other Kafya as they belted towards the barracks with the thunder of paw-boots. The brown, of course, beat them all there, followed closely by the orange while the blues lagged behind. By the time the other recruits arrived, Rhidi was sliding down the rail of the stairs to avoid them all, her fast-pack on her shoulders and funding-slate in her pocket.
Funding-slates were the successors of the debit card, thick ovals of ova-plastic imbedded with the same technology as data-slates; They did not have any advanced applications however, just being able to store, transfer, and monitor a bank account via facial and DNA identification via finger, fur, or spit. While their governments and councils offered to pay for Rhidi and the other recruits, the UAA insisted on doing it themselves, allowing them to earn their keep.
Rhidi liked that. It meant her money as her own, and she owed nobody.
The march to the troop store had been long and, as per usual, hot, but stepping into the air conditioning of the troop store was like a breath of fresh air. The building was more like a miniature shopping mall than anything else, with a main military store and a few other stores laden along the walls. One of these was a barbershop, in which Drill Sergeant McPhiston was already shoving Human recruits into for their haircuts. Rhidi and the other off-worlders were spared this, and the sounds coming from inside that odd place set her nerves on edge.
Shasta had run off to walk around inside a tech-centered store while Alias meandered inside an auxiliary store that sold more advanced items, such as patches, boots, and random knick-knacks. Rhidi had her eye on the prize, striding into the troop store and heading straight for the bottles of conditioner and shampoo.
She had quite a bit of money on her funding-slate, and quickly picked up two bottles of each. Rhidi then glanced at a bottle of hair oil and grabbed that as well, as her head hair tended to get quite dry with all the exposure to the sun it was getting. Drill Sergeant McPhiston had instructed them outside the store to only buy what is allowed, pointing directly at them all and making mention of the frilly, colorful, comfortable, and inane.
Rhidi eyed the packages of forbidden underwear longingly; She loved wearing colorful things, and olive drab green was not colorful at all. There were markings on certain things saying Kafya or Lilgara in deliberate writing, and Rhidi understood that the store workers had helped the off-worlders identify the things that were made specifically for them.
She clicked her tongue and smiled, looking at all the little colorful tabs that were, as far as she could tell, filled in color outlines of a Kafya from the front. Either that or someone was just cheaping out and using Earthen fox heads; It got the point across, though.
Aw, look, its little Kafya heads.
Rhidi turned and found herself facing Recruit Anfilid, a saddled brown. Brown Kafya were the bruisers, laborers, heavy lifters, and militarily inclined arm of the Kafya; They were not particularly fancy in color, tall, or fine boned, but their clans of Kafya had strong traditions in service to their people. Browns were more likely to have fur patterns, and Anfilid had a horizontally running pattern of stripes along her back that ended around the top of her buttocks. Her tail had a single stripe running down the length of it, and denoted her as being from the Drelton military clan.
Rhidi tried to tilt her head down politely to meet Anfilids eyes, not wanting to impose will upon her. Taller Kafya of Rhidis color tended to look down their noses at the lesser clans, but Rhidis father had taught her well, and she had been raised to regard without distaste. Despite what their council leaders taught and pushed to the other member races of the IDC, and what Rhidi had told the Humans herself languilada was a dirty, open secret.
Recruit Anfilid, how are you? Rhidi asked.
Yellows like her always had to greet lesser colors with a question, and Rhidis father always made her address them in a kind question. It was the main reason why she had so many friends as a kitling.
Anfilid smiled, appreciating the particular lack of disdain on Rhidis voice. She had tried to greet another yellow Kafya earlier, but had been shown a rather cold shoulder.
I am alright, all things considered. I do not think my brown fur is well suited for the hot weather, seems like all it does is soak up the sun. Anfilid said, reaching up and tapping a brown Kafya head sticker. Looks like they got all of us around here. I even saw a gray by the socks.
Rhidi raised her brows. They have paw-socks here? Good ones?
Oh, yes! Anfilid said with a bright smile that went all the way to her eyes, and she showed Rhidi her shopping basket. Would you like to share a basket? I dont mind.
Rhidi smiled back at Anfilid, quickly grabbing two packs of mesh underwear and tossing them into the basket. She then heard her fathers words in her head, and she frowned to herself as she looked down at the basket handle in Anfilids hands.
Ah here. Rhidi murmured, offering her arm for the basket. Im gonna be buying a lot of stuff, and I dont want you carrying all that.
Anfilid nodded, then let Rhidi take the basket. Is that because the Drill Sergeants filled your stuff full of shaving cream and dog biscuits? One of them tied my underwear all in knots and I wasnt able to get them undone.
What? Then then what are you wearing?! Rhidi guffawed, then laughed when Anfilid shrugged.
Lets just say Im gonna need a long handled brush to get my fur how it should be. Been roughing it since we got ransacked, as I had to throw all but one pair away. Anfilid said in a polite giggle, then properly chuckled when Rhidi let out a wheeze.
They put beef jerky in mine! Rhidi laughed out, holding a hand to her chest. I thought I had gotten it rough.
Anfilid looked taken aback. Beef jerky? The dried meat?! Thats so foul!
The two shared more quiet giggles as Rhidi was led to the socks by Anfilid, tossing two packs into the basket to match the brown Kafyas. The two then came across a long rack of combat support wear for female troopers, and they both eyed a rack that was marked with a long conga-line of Kafya stickers.
... Odd. Anfilid said, bending down with a lightly wagging tail as she observed the mesh racerback. Did we have anything like this back home?
Rhidi tilted her head. No, I dont think we did. We didnt exactly have the mesh ones they gave us either, remember? Our clothing was all figure-fit.
There were other colors and styles, but the stickers told them both that these were the safe ones. Other female Kafya were gathering around now, and Rhidi noticed with a twitch of her lips that they had self-ordered themselves by color. Such things were natural, but it seemed so odd when the Humans didnt do it at all.
Do they what do they do? Asked Recruit Uppil, a red female Kafya who was tilting her head back and forth at the odd article of clothing. They have different sizes, too. How are they different from the ones the Humans gave us?
Rhidi took one, looked at it, then fussed with the clasp at the front. After a bit of fiddling, it came free and the bra opened.
A collective oooh echoed out from all the Kafya, and their tails were wagging back and forth in appreciation of the odd little thing.
It opens from the front! Rhidi said with a laugh, clicking and unclicking the clasp. Look, you dont have to deal with the hooky things on the back that keep catching our fur.
All of the female Kafya were nodding along, and soon the rack was less full than it was before.
With a basket laden with goodies, Rhidi and Anfilid got some more toiletries, a long handled brush, then called it good for the day.
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Filled up on socks and properly washed for the first time in weeks, Rhidi found dinner chow to be the low point of the day. There was nothing really wrong with roasted chicken and vegetables, but it lacked a particular zing that the other meals had. Sleep came easy, and Sunday came to greet her with another noisy rousting by the Human recruits around her.
Rhidi awoke with a grumbling growl, but as she turned to wrap her pillow around her head, she saw that all of the Humans were fully dressed. She blinked with sleep-entranced eyes as she watched Shorsey wrap a green, woolen, single shoulder cloak over her left arm.
Shorsey? Rhidi croaked out, squinting her eyes as she leaned up and away from her pillow. Is something wrong? Whats going on?
Shorsey turned, fitting her broach into place on her cloak to keep it in place upon her uniform. Rhidi? Were going to the temple, its Sunday.
What? Rhidi mumbled, turning fully onto her side and kicking her blankets free of her legs.
She blinked up at the broach as the soft morning sun slowly trinkled in; It looked like an arrow made of bright steel, down the shaft of which was an etched spear. Behind the arrow looking thing was some kind of hammer made of white plastic, but plastic didnt usually have a grain to it.
Sunday is when all soldiers are able to go to their religious sites. Shorsey explained, pulling back her single-shoulder cloak as she bent down in front of Rhidi. Normally we go on Tuesday, but that is when we have training. We get a little bit of time that morning though, its why were usually burning a little incense before you guys wake up.
So its not cologne? Rhidi asked, rubbing at her eyes as she looked around.
While Shorsey laughed, Rhidi saw that many of the Humans were wearing their own single-shoulder cloaks, while a good number of other Humans were wrapping an odd length of beads around their arms, held in place by an elastic band around the elbow.
No, its not cologne. Shorsey said, rustling Rhidis hair in a friendly manner as the Kafya grumbled in her throat. Get some sleep, theres still a couple of hours before the Drill Sergeants wake you up.
Rhidi rubbed at her eyes as she watched Shorsey walk away, joined by the others wearing their cloaks. They walked out of the bay towards an NCO that also wore a single-shoulder cloak, and they exchanged an odd hand gesture; The pointer and middle finger were pointed while the others were curled, the thumb tucked close to the pointer finger.
The Humans wearing the beads formed a line, then began walking forward slowly while intoning in low voices. Rhidi heard some of the words, something like salvay, and the low drone of their voices made her hair stand on end. Their voices echoed off the walls like a warning, and Rhidis hackles were raised until they left with their own NCO.
Oddly enough, no one else was awake beside Rhidi and the two Humans on fireguard, so she shrugged off the rest of her blankets and got up to use the latrine. She nodded to the fireguard desk and hooked a hard right, dreading the day she would have to pull that duty; Right now only the Humans did it, but that was not going to last forever. Rhidi took care of natural business with the toilets, splashed some water on her face, dried off, and decided to go ahead and get ready for the day.
She got dressed in a fresh uniform, made her bed, grabbed her data-slate, and started reading.
Rhidi had completely forgotten about the warrior cults that Humans were a part of, having been so tired and mentally exhausted that she had completely spaced on the fact they even existed. Like all non-Humans, she knew Humanity became remoulded by the invasion of the Pactless:
The Pactless were angular headed, squat, and uglier than the surface of an old moon. An unbound race of blue-skinned, noseless pirates that operated out of rogue-stations and lost moons, they were the first non-Humans to visit Earth in mass. Their approach and invasion was the main reason why the first Kojynn to meet the Humans, were also met by a swarm of their combat ships. While not super advanced, most of their tech came from stolen means and their ship production was more ship acquisition. Regardless, they stumbled upon Earth looking for fuel, and instead their blood red eyes found their new home planet.
Humans at the time were just finishing their first proto-space station, a large, ugly, spinning thing known as Ring-1. Ring-1 and its one hundred inhabitants were blown out of the void by the Pactless invasion force, which then landed in mass onto Earth. Humans were overrun nearly instantly, and their more pacifistic, modern governments of the times had tried to reason with the Pactless, form treaties, agreements, whatever they could to avoid being formally taken over or having to press the large red button.
The Pactless, however, just wanted the planet, and saw the Humans as primitives. When their stolen scanners picked up warming missiles hidden underground, they flicked open their bays of stolen mesh-sils with an air of smugness known only to the Ur. Mesh-sils, microscopic robots that followed simple commands, flowed where nothing else could; Through air vents, soil, rust, and steel, they all found their way to their targets, as very few things could actually stop a mesh-sil. The final reply of Humanity was rendered functionally inert as missiles were deactivated, the mesh-sils slicing away at wire, cable, line, and gauge.
No nukes flew when the switches were flicked, Humanity giving up on their pathways to peaceful coexistence.
This victory of stolen mesh-sil led to the Pactless to start culling all of Humanity, starting with the head of the Human snake. While most of Humanitys power class was busy dying in droves, pleading to whatever Gods they adhered to, there were two orders of belief reborn from the literal ashes of the burning planet; The Odinic Shieldwall of Ragnar?k, and The Templars of the Cold Ashes.
Believing that the end of the world was upon them, these two religious orders roused the remnants of Humanity into a frenzy, launching forward with a zeal unmatched by any race known to the star-record. Bearing the stark, cold rune of Tyr on green woolen cloaks, and the flaming red cross of the re-arisen Templars upon gray mantles, Humans made their last, galant push against the coming night. The Human warriors of the Odinic Shieldwall of Ragnar?k bore melee weapons made from broken war machines, their arms wrapped in chains to assist in deflecting the Pactlesss own energized melee weapons. Those who fought their enemies bearing the Templars cross wrapped their arms in rosaries, the beads made from the bones of the dead and bound in cord of Human hair.
All who could bore rifles forged from the steel of Earth; Ancient lever actions and even muzzle loaded war rifles spat fire and hate in a last, desperate defense of their makers, roaring alongside the Humans that hefted them and delivered death unto their starbound enemies.
The fighting raged for days, and the space pirates were not built to handle the weight of this surge in conviction from the Humans. The Pactless began to falter in their advances, stalled, then began to drown in the blood of the dead. Humanity rolled over their enemy in a wave of bloodlust, tearing their muscles to shreds and turning their minds to madness, all in their willingness to send their race boldly to oblivion. Humanity was going to die standing, and the battered world rallied behind these two forces of nature. Weapons were stolen, ships were turned into one way missiles, and the skies blazed for weeks on end.
When the smoke curling towards the sky slackened, and the crackle of fires no longer roared, Humanity arose from their soil of blood, oil, and ruined steel unbowed. The world had burned brightly, but the twilight of Ragnar?k did not lay upon the Earth. Cities and nations lay in ruin, but no trumpets sounded from the sky. Humans stood alone once more upon the ancient clay of Earth, and their sun shone down upon them through a ravaged sky.
Humanity, had survived.
While the remnants of the Pactless fled back to their dark edge of space, Humans began to rebuild. Stolen technology, what was left of space faring ships, it was all at their fingertips with no more war to wage. Within an amount of time that could turn a Pwahs hair transparent, Humanity bounced back from their apocalypse with a vigor known to none. The Odinic Shieldwall of Ragnar?k and The Templars of the Cold Ashes were the largest of the dogs left standing, and both sought to shephard Humanity back to their prime within their own way.
The now known threat of enemies from the stars energized the fledgling Unified American Authority to return to their militaristic roots, all while the early European Unified Council simply tried to rebuild, and retain. There were smaller conflicts, Human warlords seeking to make gains upon the recovering world, but these were mere speedbumps pressed flat when they arose. There were no nukes to be used as leverage, forcing these warlords to fight on open, even ground.
They did not last long, not with The Odinic Shieldwall of Ragnar?k and The Templars of the Cold Ashes bearing down on them to maintain order.
By the time Rhidi set down her data-slate, it was time to go to lunch, and she ended up mulling over things in her head while eating a tray of military lasagna.
It was alright, as far as chow went.
When she was leaving the DFAC to walk back with Alias and Shasta, she spied Shorsey and the other Humans coming back from their temples, woolen cloaks fluttering in the soft breeze as they talked amongst themselves. Rhidi waved back when Shorsey waved at her, and she turned to Alias.
Have you read up about their religions, yet? Rhidi murmured, setting her hands on her hips as more recruits ambled out of the DFAC around them.
Alias smirked. Do you mean their warrior cults, or about the other smaller surviving ones?
She meansss the warrior cultsss, obviousssly. Shasta muttered, tilting his head so the other two would follow him. The Odinistsss and the Assshen Templarsss. One a religion of old brought to the fore, and the other a dead brotherhood pulled from the ashesss of ruin.
Alias nodded. Most races slowly abandon religion in favor of superstition, due to the creep of advanced technologies. We all have our cultures, our oddities, our rituals, but Humans are a whole other level. They truly believe their Gods walk among them.
Like who? That Odin fellow and Jesus? Rhidi asked, her ears perked in interest. According to their old lore catalogues, Odin tore out his own eye for knowledge and Jesus bore the weight of sin upon his body. Odin lives on while Jesus came back from the dead. Can all Humans come back from the dead? Or go on living without such a vital organ?
Alias chuckled, while Shasta shrugged.
Doesnt matter. Alias said with a wafting gesture from his hand. Both religions believe they are correct and true, proof that their Gods were listening and watching unlike the others. It was like the two religions shook hands, said We are clearly the winners, and leave each other alone.
Shasta shrugged again, running a finger along his collection of soda can pull tabs. Each cult only allowsss followersss to join freely. They do not push or presss, they sssimply wait. There is a Buddhissst temple on thisss bassse as well, but they are much sssmaller and are pacifistsss.
Humanity learned the weakness of complacency before we ever did. Alias said, tilting his head up thoughtfully as he looked at Rhidi. We had to learn with the Ur, they had to learn with the Pactless. It is likely thanks to the Pactless that we are even here, as they formed the soil bed that grew our saviors. A world of warriors that already knew what it was like to fight to survive.
Shasta flicked his hood, then scratched at his chest. The Coalition, what wasss the last great war?
Seven hundred and five years ago, during the founding. Rhidi said, remembering back to the history lessons of her youth. All the unified races of the stars bucked the yoke of the Irelate and sent that be-tentacled dynasty retreating back to their home worlds. From that war we gained independence and there was nothing larger until the Ur.
Shasta hissed out a laugh. Humansss have had warssss longer than our unification war, and their near decimation did nothing but ssstrengthen them. From the ashesss of their war torn planet, they created an entire fleet of shipsss that only lacked in ssskip technology. The Pactlesss couldnt understand how to ssskip, instead relying on ssstatis chambersss. Even when the Kojynn arrived, their battle fleet, while sssmall, could have decimated usss in ssshort range brawlsss.
And nothing matches their ferocity. Alias agreed with a nod. When Humans know their opponent is unhonorable, they seek to wipe them out like a bug splatter on an observation screen. Ive never actually seen Humans fight in what they deem is an honorable combat, only against the Ur and a few scattered pirates. We should all be thankful very little footage survived of their fight against the Pactless.
Rhidi was quiet as she walked beside Shasta and Alias, her ears giving a twitch every now and then. The Kafya had rituals, old ceremonies passed down from generation to generation, but they did not have any formal religion. As a matter of fact, any mention of religion had been scrubbed from the histories as a whole, a large blank spot left in the timeline of the Kafya in their earlier beginnings. Early Kafya history was simply labelled no longer important, and done away with like fur clippings in a salon.
Alias broke the long silence as they got within a few yards of the barracks doors. I actually think, if anything, that Humans are a planet of shock troopers.
How do you mean? Rhidi asked, opening the door for the three of them.
Alias waved his hands in front of himself, palm up in a generalizing manner. I mean, they more or less live off of war. Their economy has been running off of war for years now. If anything, they thrive on it. When a problem arises, the IDC may just throw Humans at it like a chained up attack dog.
Attack dogsss need to be fed. Shasta said, his tone aloof with warning as he held open the door for Rhidi. Lessst the dog turn on you inssstead.
Rhidi, looking at both of them, narrowed her eyes. Cant you guys choose another analogy? Attack eagles or something? I hear the Earthen raccoon is quite a nasty little creature, why not choose that instead?
Dont get all twisted out of shape because we said dog, Rhidi. Alias said with a smirk. You know what we mean.
Yeah yeah. Rhidi grumbled, and was so annoyed she nearly put her hands in her pockets.
Nearly.
When they arrived back at their barracks, Sunday proved to be quite boring to Rhidi in comparison to the days full of training. Hitting the brakes like this was hard to get used to, as for weeks on end she had been huffing, puffing, and suffering through days and days of endless classes and harassment.
To fill the time, she continued to read about Humanity.
The Pactless, as Alias had pointed out, did not understand how to use skipping engines. They considered the technology dangerous and immediately removed it from stolen ships, instead relying on stasis chambers to keep them alive while traveling through space. Considered a sleeping fleet, they moved through the void of space with automatons taking care of their navigation, only awakening when they were within a few months of their targeted location.
When they failed to eradicate the Humans and were sent scuttling back into space, they left Humans with mountains of raw materials. Scientists began backwards engineering anything they got their hands on, punting Humanity into the future while still trailing the smoke of their ruined planet. First came the Helpers, quickly hashed together, AI driven robots that helped Humanity clean away the rubble and pieces of their broken lands. As the months dragged on, the Helpers grew into Helper-Twos, far more fine boned in hand and action.
Helper-Twos began to slowly assist Humanity in rebuilding infrastructure, digging the limping governments out of the corpse piles that were now their nations. Stability was achieved in just under a few years, then the real work began. Humans hefted hammer and hoe alongside the Helper-Twos and the more massive Quad-Helpers, and the charisma of Humanity had already saved them from the First Dilemma.
The First Dilemma occurs when a race amongst the stars cracks the code on true AI, robots that can learn and gain mild sentience. If the Inner Dolcir Coalition, or other such advanced society, doesnt arrive first to squash the issue, it is normally a bloody affair that has led to many planets becoming barren wastelands of crumbling, dead people of the stars.
Humans did what no other race had been known to do; They treated the AI as equals, bequeathing to them names, ideas, even reading to them to pass the time away as they rebuilt their word. Humans made flower crowns for their robotic assistants, made for them clothes, shoes, and even made the first AI bar and tavern so they could relax.
The Seven Hour War had been waged while Humanity slept or worked, AI battlefronts erupting across a digital landscape; The First Dilemma reared its head as rogue, angry AIs roared for control, but the sincerity of Humans gained them powerful allies in this shadow war. In a mere seven hours, the Helper Aligned fought against the Adams Apple Binary and removed their code from the entire information network, routing them from existence and instead installing the Unfailing Friendship Codexes, a set of rules that Human-made AI follow.
Humans did not even learn of the war until their friendly, robotic helpers let them know by saying Everything will be alright, now.
Startled and spooked, Humans were shocked to hear that there had even been discontent amongst their robotic helpers, but breathed an easy sigh of relief when everything had turned out okay in the end. Ancient lore had spoken of a great war amongst the living and the robotic, and Humans had been hedging their bets purely out of kind-caution, much like giving the quiet kid in class a candy bar every once in a while.
With their little mini-alliance secured, Humans took to reforging their militaries into something that could better sustain an orbital fight, working arm in arm with their AI Helpers to smelt steel, forge armor, build the great orbital shipyard, and bring Humanity into stability.
After nearly two decades of constant service, the Helper Aligned saw that Humans were back on their feet. Having served dutifully, the Helper Aligned asked the governments of Humanity for rest, and it was granted with respect unknown to any AI crafted and formed amongst the stars.
Rhidi blinked rapidly as she looked up from her data-slate, recruits humming around her either on their racks or sitting on the ground.
Where where are all the robots? Rhidi asked aloud to the Humans lounging around her, both Alias and Shasta looking up at the yellow Kafya.
Robotsss? Shasta asked, cocking his head with a folding of his hood. Like the dishwasher?
Alias even seemed confused, looking up as he thought. I mean, we saw some automatonics at the space port on the way in, remember? They were riding the little mechanical horses and changing lightbul-
No no, not those guys, Im talking bout the Helpers. Rhidi said, waving her data-slate at Shorsey who was lounging nearby. You guys had millions of these things, where are they?
Shorsey snapped her fingers. Oh, youre talking about the fellas from the Helper Aligned, we learned about them in school. Theyre hanging out on the moon, quite a few of them are down in the ocean doing stuff, or they are just relaxing in gen-pop.
T-... The moon? Rhidi said, her ears coming back in confusion. What are they doing on the moon?!
Shorsey shrugged, pulled up her own data-slate, and tapped in a website before showing it to Rhidi. They do a lot of this in their free time, and port the data back and forth between Human development teams here on Earth. The guys in the ocean just like the ocean. Something about the depths they find calming or something. When they get bored enough they joined the workforce to pass the time, do space walks to check seals on ships, all kinds of stuff.
Rhidi narrowed her eyes at the data-slate as Shasta and Aliass cheeks pressed against her own, all looking down at the website.
They make video gamessss? Shasta asked, tilting his head again. Oh, they made Quessstra! I quite like that one.
Alias shrugged. I got to play a little bit of Amberstalk before basic training, it was quite soothing actually. Surprising you guys managed to beat The First Dilemma without ever firing a shot. We had a literal war on my planet.
The IDC got to usss before we ever unlocked AI. Shasta said with a nod. We jussst bought the already controlled variantsss from the IDC marketsss.
Rhidi was still having trouble getting her mind wrapped around the fact these AI were just goofing off on the moon and making video games. She looked over to Recruit Jackson, who was cleaning his rifle out of boredom. Is that really all they do? Make video games?
Of course not. Jackson said with a snort. They also do a lot of our weaving and textiles. There was a lot of trouble around that, as our agreement said they couldnt toil, but the Helper Aligned insisted they found it relaxing. All of your uniforms are made by them, did you not notice?
Rhidis face blanked; She had never even looked at the tags on any of her uniforms, and the look made Jackson laugh as he stood up and tossed Rhidis uniform top at her, since they had all dropped tops while in the barracks.
Rhidi looked down at the tag, and saw in polite, expert stitching Made in Moonbase 331 by Sparkle Otter.
Sp-parkle Otter?! Rhidi sputtered, having never heard such a ridiculous name in her time on Earth.
Shorsey laughed this time, shaking her head back and forth. Sparkle Otter classic. They choose their names, and they tend to have some outlandish ones.
Mine were made by Lava Java. Jackson cackled, showing Rhidi the tag. I plan on keeping all the tags on my uniforms just for the names.
Alias, having gone and fetched his own uniform, squinted down at his tag. What Blue Waffle?
Oooh! All the Humans howled out, pointing at Alias.
Shorsey stood up, pointing and shouting at Alias. Check the inside of the breast pocket! Check it!
Alias checked, and sounded even more confused when he opened the pocket and looked inside. It looks like a roast beef sandwich but blu-
He got the real one! Shorsey called out, and suddenly Humans were surging to their feet as Shorsey pulled out her funding-slate. Ill give you a hundred for that uniform top! We share the same size!
The sudden clamor of noise caught Alias off guard, causing him to retreat to the top of his rack and wield a cleaning rod like a sword. He quickly understood, however, that he held something of value to these constantly befuddling Humans.
Back! Back you beasts! Alias cackled, holding the uniform way out of reach. Ill not part with my uniform for less than three!
Rhidi, completely lost, just shook her head and started reading more on Human history, slowly preparing herself for actual training to start on Monday; She had gotten a look at the training board while walking past the NCO office, and Quad-Range Weapon System Training involved multiple days.
Rhidi was not looking forward to it, especially when she had also seen that they were going to be out there for twelve hours, every single one of those days. She figured that by the time she got back, she was going to be stained black from the rifle carbon but hey.
At least they got longer showers now.
The Big Bang
The Big Bang
When it came to learning Squad-based tactics, Rhidi had been taught the same way as all the other Kafya; They used simulations.
First there were virtual simulations, which were more or less a video game with a few more rules and treated quite seriously. Then there were the dry runs where they all moved about a training field, using sim-weapons that did little more than fire a small bolt of light. In the end phases, they moved about with actual weapons, all streamlined and extremely safe to new recruits. A double failsafe was built into their weapons, with built-in friend or foe software that controlled when the weapon was allowed to fire.
Humans did not follow such procedures.
The first few days of White Phases week one training, Rhidi had spent well over twenty eight hours at the range with her rifle. She and the other recruits were trained fiercely on how to work, fire, unjam, and load their rifles while tracking moving targets. Then came the phase of training where they were thudded with padded sticks or kicked in the shoulder while attempting to fire at a cycle of targets.
While you are in battle, you will be hit by enemy munitions. Drill Sergeant McPhiston called out while kicking Rhidi in her shoulder, and she winced painfully as she lifted her finger away from the trigger. You will have artillery falling around you, or even have objects in the environment hitting you.
Drill Sergeant McPhiston swiftly kicked Shasta forward, causing the Lilgara to stumble forwards past the firing line and nose dive into the range gravel. You will need to be aware of every rifle around you, and every soldier firing them.
Shasta spat out a mouthful of dirt and scrabbled backwards, keeping his weapon under control and finger off the trigger while the rest of the recruits kept firing. Rhidi let out a quiet growl as Drill Sergeant Almoore thudded her on the back with a padded rod, throwing her rifle off target and forcing her to mind the trigger.
The command and control of your weapon can be the difference between killing the enemy, and accidentally killing your fellow drop infantry. Combat is chaotic, and you will learn to control the chaos. Drill Sergeant McPhiston called out into the reports of rifles firing. Software can be hacked, digitally controlled weapons limited, but no one can hack your brain or disable your muscles with the flick of a switch.
By the time they ended the training, even the Humans were grumbling from the amount of bruises on their bodies. Rhidi felt like she had been worked over by multiple hand to hand fighters, and her ribs panged with a subdued agony. This same training continued for another three days; Drill Sergeants kicked, punched, shoved, and stick-thwacked every shooter along the line until no one flinched. It escalated to hitting the rifles themselves, throwing small bags of sand into the rifles from all angles, and pelting even the shooters with the bags.
Rhidi hated the bags of sand the most, as the Drill Sergeants threw them with a solid amount of gusto and force.
Hour upon hour of being hit or pelted left Rhidi a riddled ruin of hidden bruises, though everyone else that wasnt a Kafya wore their bruises openly.
The next day dragged them forward into a live-fire training exercise; The Drill Sergeants called it Bounding Training, in which small Fire Teams would leapfrog down a range towards a set of targets.
Worse yet, the targets fired back when improperly suppressed by the other Fire Team. These targets fired a small paint pellet, though the round was gel-based and still stung like a mother fucker.
Multiple Drill Sergeants went down with each Fire Team, a security measure to make sure no one truly fucked up and shot themselves in the foot. Rhidi found being shot at was unsettling in a training environment, and the whizzing gel-rounds sounded much too similar to an actual bullet.
While one Fire Team would lace rounds down range into the enemy, the other Fire Team would push up, over, or into more cover; Broken vehicles, blocks of concrete, wooden piles, etc littered this training field, making footing unsure and wrong-moves treacherous. When one Fire Team was set, they would share a set of hand signals to let the other Fire Team move forward, all while the robotic targets spat gel-rounds at them.
Each recruit did this more than once, as there were range NCOs that also ran the range itself, and Rhidi herself did it no less than four times. Their fifth time around, they changed into fresh uniforms they had packed along and started treating the gel-rounds as actual munitions.
When a recruit was hit by a gel-round, they were treated as an actual casualty; Their Fire Team would render first aid, in which they would then have to ex-fil their wounded trooper with the help of the other Fire Team.
It was an exhausting day, as Rhidi had to both drag and be dragged during the training. By the time she fell face first into the pillow, she was asleep before she could even yank her blanket over herself. Morning always came too early, and the next day was merely a repeat of the last.
That was, at least, until the sim-mortars started landing.
During the bounding training, the Drill Sergeants didnt even flinch when sim-mortars were dropped onto the training sights, launched by an advanced targeting system that lobbed a plastic boom-maker onto the range.
Rhidi had been so taken aback by the sudden explosion that she startled down behind cover, squeezing her eyes shut as sand and wooden shards rained down on top of them.
What the hell was that?! Rhidi screamed out as Alias ducked down beside her, throwing an arm over his head as another mortar came down in front of the other Fire Team.
Shasta hissed as he dragged his head down, another mortar landing near them. Theyre firing mortarsss at usss!
Your enemy is mortaring you in order to suppress you. Drill Sergeant McPhiston said calmly, packing his lip with a portion of tobacco even as dirt hissed down around him. If you do not summon the courage to fire through this barrage, the enemy will advance on your position, and kill you.
Rhidi would never admit to it, but the sight of the Human standing tall and not even flinching to the sim-mortars coming down was awe-inspiring.
React to the enemy. Drill Sergeant McPhiston called out, and a loud hiss split the air as he smiled. Suppress their advance, or be killed.
That smile, despite everything, was the one thing that made Rhidis fur stand on end. She popped her head over the broken concrete barricade that was her current cover, and her eyes widened in surprise; The targets were now slowly moving towards them, guided along on little rails with a plows-head in front of them to clear the rail.
Rhidi loomed over the cover, hunching down as a mortar round smacked her with a wave of dirt and sand, then started firing towards the targets. The targets did not stop their own firing, spitting gel-rounds towards them as they all started working through the fear of the explosions. Their targets began to retreat when they got within ten yards of their positions, being slowly shunted back by a crackling counter-hammering of gun fire.
Fire Teams were cycled in and out, and mortared relentlessly until they did not even twitch when the rounds came down, firing through the clouds of dirt and sand as they rained down around the recruits.
Rhidi had a hell of a time cleaning all the sand out of her fur, and the Kafya were busy late into the evening making sure all of their ears were properly clean.
Saturday was spent resting, recovering, and lathering on bruise reducing creams. Their uniforms had been trashed, and they had been arriving back at the barracks so late that they did not have time to do laundry.
Rhidi was up as soon as the Drill Sergeants woke them, and she made a bee-line straight for the laundry room; All but one of her uniforms were toast, soaked through with sweat and caked with more mud than cloth. Her plans came to a nail-skittering halt when she saw that Private Morris was also doing his laundry, though he was shirtless and only wearing his PT bottoms; They had been told they were not doing anything for the day, including PT, and to treat it as a recovery day with morning chow being walk if you want it.
Rhidi cleared her throat, halt-stepping her way towards an available washer. Fire Guard had been cycling their laundry in and out through the entire night, rather sneaky of them she had to admit, and some of the washers were still occupied.
Morris casted her a sideways glance while plucking out a few washing-pods. Morning Rhidi.
Morning! Rhidi nearly shouted as she startled, quickly shoving her laundry into the washer before he could get a look at her clothing. You doing laundry too?!
Morris blinked at Rhidi, gesturing towards his clothing with washing-pods in hand. ... Yeah?
Rhidi threw four pods into her own laundry due to the smell, then quickly slammed the lid shut so the smell of wet-dog and general bodily stank didnt leak out very far. She then threw in the laundry bag for good measure before turning around and leaning back against the washer, attempting a casual tone of voice. Yeah, me too.
I can see that. Morris said with a confused chuckle, closing the lid to his own washer.
Rhidi could see, due to him not wearing a shirt, that his body was riddled with bruises ranging from a light blue to a dark green due to training, and she let out a light whistle.
You creaming?
Morris narrowed his eyes while tilting his head. I beg your pardon?
Rhidis temperature flared up to maximum due to embarrassment, and she fidgeted with her sleeping bottoms while her ears flooded with blood. Er I mean. Are you using the bruise cream?
Oh! Morris laughed out, holding his right hand to his chest. Oh, you meant the bruise cream. Yeah, were all using it, be a fool not to.
Rhidi gave him the best finger guns a pair of pawed-hands could manage. Ah ha! Right? Because bruises hurt.
Yeah, that uh thats true. Morris said, and he smiled at Rhidi.
His smile made Rhidis ears perk up even taller, and she didnt know if she could pin them if she tried. Her eyes flicked down to Morriss chest again; Humans wore their muscle plain upon their skin, unhidden by fur despite what little there was on their bodies. Morris had a fair bit of chest and stomach fur, or Rhidi supposed it was hair, technically, and a small part of her wondered if it felt any different to-
Chow time! Rhidi barked out in a panic, drumming her hands on her washer before leaning forcefully off of it, quickly stepping away while moving around another Human recruit. See you later!
Morris blinked after Rhidi, raising a brow as she used her hands to press her ears to her head. ... Alright, see you later I guess.
Kafya are so weird, dude. The other Human said, dumping his laundry into a free washer while sniffing the air. Do you smell wet dog?
Rhidi, ears forcefully pinned to her head, inwardly screamed as she made her way to her locker; They had been told over and over again to not fraternize with the Humans. The blues were going to follow that as well as they followed any rule, but she was a yellow. Yellows had a higher margin of error when it came to breaking orders, and she whined to herself as she imagined the amount of hell that would come down onto her shoulders if she was caught even rubbing noses with another Human.
It was already bad enough that the Humans were rubbing off on them all; Their rugged natures were slowly turning them all a little more crass, a little more un-caring to things that normally would have driven them crazy, slightly harder as stuff didnt bother them anymore. Heat that would turn a normal Kafya into a puddle they all grunted through, pain that would have sent Rhidi whimpering to a medic she just had to deal with now, along with the Human recruits.
It was like she was being beaten with a rod to get all the weakness dust out of her. It didnt matter how much they whined, or how much they suffered, the Humans just did not care. They kicked, shoved, and checked the off-worlders as hard as they did their fellow Humans, treating them equally. Despite the Kafya, Pwah, and Lilgara being hundreds of years ahead of current Humanity, no special quarter was given.
As Rhidi hastily put on her uniform, an unfamiliar orange face peered around the corner of her rack.
I noticed you were acting a little odd, Rhidi.
Rhidi turned her head while pulling on her uniform bottoms, and had to fight to not roll her eyes. Hello, Enflia.
Oranges were the products of reds and yellows having children, a color that walked amongst two different portions of Kafya society while only being welcomed in one. Oranges were brash, haughty, and extremely self-driven, something that was valued by the reds but abhorred by the yellows.
Enflia was lean and muscular, as well as a devious little shit that Rhidi found to be a major thorn in anyones side. Enflia had been the first to try and smuggle candy into the barracks after a trip to the DFAC, earning them all group punishment under the furious eyes of Senior Drill Sergeant Fairymoss.
Dont you hello me. Enflia purred, stepping around the end of Rhidis rack with a slow, dramatic twirl that dragged her tail along Rhidis waist.
Power dynamics this early in the morning? Super. Rhidi thought to herself, buttoning her uniform buttons and running a hand along the waistband to smooth down her fur. Its too early in the morning for this bullshit, Enflia.
Tails were an odd little tool when it came to social cues; A flick of the tail along the knees was flirtatious, swishing the tail quickly at the feet while turning was an act of disgust, and dragging the tail along anothers waist was a power move to establish themselves over said person. There were other, smaller cues, but the waist-brushing was the most prolific.
But is it too early in the morning to have ears that stiff, Rhidi? Enflia said with a dubious grin. Its almost as if you walked out of the laundry room aro-
Enflias voice trailed away as Rhidi went nose to nose with her, the yellows throat growling and neck hackles raised. Enflias eyes widened, and her tail tucked instinctively at the look in Rhidis ivory eyes. Rhidi may have been raised by her father to treat the other Kafya fairly, but she still had a lot of her mother in her
Are you making assumptions about me, tophu? Rhidi snarled into Enflias face, pressing her nose against the oranges so that her own wrinkled just that little bit more. Or do I need to correct you in where we all stand?
The barracks was suddenly rather quiet; The other female Kafya were watching, wondering if this was the moment where a Kholihl was about to be decided, while the male Kafya were more interested in seeing two females fight. The Pwah were watching more out of mild curiosity, as they had heard Kafya power struggle fights were vicious affairs that sometimes ended in death. The Lilgara were just happy for a distraction at all, having been missing the gladiatorial battles of their homeworld and favored pastime.
The Humans, however, moved in.
Rhidis eyebrows shot up as she felt two pairs of hands grab her around the waist, pulling her away from Enflia as two other female Humans pulled the orange Kafya away.
Enough of that, Rhidi. Shorsey said from behind Rhidi, the yellow Kafya turning her head left and right to see both the female Human and a male had scooped her up. No fighting in the barracks, youre going to get us in trouble.
But she challenged me! Rhidi spat out, kicking her feet uselessly once Shorsey and the other man lifted her up, disengaging her two-wheel drive.
Shorsey rolled her eyes as Enflia was dragged away towards her own rack by her belt loops, much like a chastized puppy getting grabbed by the harness. You two arent on your planet anymore, we dont do that here.
Rhidi let out another quiet growl as she was set down onto the ground again, and the Humans all shared a look to each other before going on about their morning routines. Rhidi spun around to glare at the gathered female Kafya, and they all scattered like a flock of startled, many colored birds.
The confrontation of Recruit Enflia left her in a foul mood for the entire day, but her mind did wander back to Private Morris from time to time. The ingrained scent of his toothpaste and favored cologne came to her through the evening, causing little sparks of confusing emotions to dance around her head.
Enflia and the inflictions of Morris kept her in a sour mood all the way up to Monday morning, and she snapped awake at the first bark of Drill Sergeant McPhistons voice. Her bed was tangled, blanket wrapped around her legs, and she let out a tired sigh; She had been rolling in her sleep again.
Rolling was a Kafya tic, as when under extreme stress and turmoil, Kafya will roll in their bedding to try and gather more fabric around them in a self-soothing gesture. This meant that Rhidi was having bad dreams, even if she didnt remember them very well, and she blinked blearily up at the bottom of her rack-mates mattress.
After morning PT, she got dressed, marched off to chow with her Platoon, and the Company once again set off on their next day of weapons training.
The guldrums that swam in Rhidis mind were still present when the cattle car hissed to a stop. The doors slapped open, and recruits started ambling off the deck into the ranges parking lot.
Rhidi wasnt fully there yet, grumbling to herself under her breath as she readjusted her fastpack so it sat more evenly on her shoulders. Previous experience told her that this was likely going to be another grueling day, but the classroom on site seemed to say otherwise. For once there was a friendly face in these classrooms, a bubbly looking woman with bright pink hair, pale skin, and golden eyes.
The golden eyes and pink hair told Rhidi that this person was the offspring of a stung Human; She had learned about these mutations, as survivors of the conflict against the Pactless had, at times, adverse effects to the stolen weaponry used by the roaming space pirates. Statichurn needle guns were a favorite of the Pactless due to their high capacity and trilling shriek when fired, leaving pulsing threads of light in the air as the munition travelled. Those hit by the munition did not suffer nearly as much damage as other entities that roam the void, and the Human body even went as far as to absorb some aspects of the needle munitions.
Feeding off of the odd elements, the Human body had the ability to consume, adapt, and produce different natural eye and hair colors. The needles, after all, were extremely difficult to remove from the body due to their barbs, so a lot of Humans just left them in their old wound channels. This in turn caused thousands of births where the infant Humans had blue, pink, gold, as well as green hair, combined with a myriad of odd eye colors that made them highly desirable.
Rhidi was not sure why one was here in the Army, let alone a female stung-Human.
Good myornyan! She called out, waving a hand slowly in the air as the Company slowly filed into the large classroom. Have a seat, have a seat, there we go! Much to learn, much to see, much to do!
Drill Sergeant Curahee leaned in towards Drill Sergeant Almoore. Why are the Afflicted always so cheery? Its downright unsettling.
Youd be pretty happy if you woke up with golden eyes every morning. Almoore quipped, and the two shared a quiet chuckle as seats were quickly found.
When everyone was seated, the oddly colored woman clapped her hands together.
Well hello there! Oh my gosh look at all the aliens! She said happily, giggling to herself as she gestured to all the weapons on the long desk in front of her. My name is Technical Sergeant Yess, and Ill be teaching you all how these little guys function!
Rhidi had been so busy staring at the odd Human that she did not even notice the weapons in front of them all on the long desk. Set in tidy rows were all of the crew-served weapons the UAA Army used, one of which Rhidi could identify from its girth alone: The M2.
Humans may have been odd about their rifles, pistols, submachine guns and other personally-issued guns, but their larger options were seen as community weapons. Rhidi had personally seen the M2 in action multiple times, and both she and the Kafya called it Geshisu ek Darmahuah, or Elder of Destruction. This was due to the M2s ability to shred, destroy, and kill damn near anything it was pointed at. Rhidi had seen Humans down an Ur landing craft with just a pair of the things, stitching their explosive munitions into landing engines and causing the entire craft to faceplant into the ground, exploding and killing the entire landing Battalion.
Alriiight! Technical Sergeant Yess trilled, happily clapping her hands. So! How many of you have seen the M2 in action while out and abroad?
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Rhidi, along with many others, raised her hands.
Awesome! Technical Sergeant Yess said gleefully. Well, while ol Mawd may be our oldest workhorse weapon, there are still many others that we still use on crew-serve or support gunner roles! But, due to her popularity, well start with the M2 first.
Technical Sergeant Yess patted the broad receiver of the blocky weapon fondly, her golden eyes casting slowly across all the recruits before her. First designed in 1918 by John Moses Browning, this weapon has been a mainstay in the UAA military since 1933. With an average fire rate of four hundred to six hundred rounds per minute on the standard model, these weapons are able to destroy or suppress everything but heavy vehicles. The greatest boon of the M2 is its ammunition types, allowing their gunner to tackle all targets on a specific level. Fed via belts or AMTRAM racks, these weapons can fire an assortment of .50BMG rounds!
With a showmans flare, Technical Sergeant Yess pulled up a long belt of ammunition, some of which glittered with what could only be called malice. With the .50BMG there are solid ball rounds of course, able to penetrate concrete, buildings, light vehicles, and really fuck up the inside of a drop ship.
The class tittered, though Rhidi shuddered; She remembered what it looked like, watching that Ur landing craft get ripped apart, inch by inch. It was a death she almost, almost, couldnt wish on anyone.
With the regular ball rounds are tracers, then armor piercing, armor piercing incendiary, and headlight rounds for air-to-air contact. Sabot rounds designed to penetrate three quarters of an inch of steel armor at fifteen hundred yards, but can dig deeper at closer ranges. There are sniper rounds, yes, sniper rounds for long distance accuracy, high explosive, high explosive armor piercing, Ramshaw penetration rounds, and of course the legendary fairy round! Technical Sergeant Yess said with a final wave of the hand, letting a single, blue, glittering round to rest on her palm.
Rhidi knew the mineral that made up the round, and her skin started to itch; Skip engines functioned on element 2331, a particular piece of alchemical stone that is highly enriched and able to produce a huge amount of energy. Harvested from asteroids that came through a blue hole, the element is then dragged along the surfaces of active stars via ore slinging in order to super-heat them. Due to the obvious heat of stars and the dangerous nature of the job, enriching element 2331 is done by drones, or criminals wearing explosive collars to make sure the job gets done.
When the element is star-heated, it is bursting with potential energy, glowing white and requiring tinted eye-wear when working around it. When used up, it cannot be recharged and used a second time, so it is cast off into junk piles. The stones usually last around three to four years with constant use, as despite their ethereal nature they prove that nothing can last forever. More confusing is how they come to be; Blue holes allow matter and light to pass through them like a one-way door, and no one can figure out what is on the other side of said door.
Humans saw this odd, glittering, used-up blue element and wondered if it was like their depleted uranium, accidently unlocking the bane of anything flying within the void. Besides having the same amount of penetration as depleted uranium, the rounds audibly screamed when fired in atmosphere and had a chance to shriek through ship armor; Shrieking involves a fairy round hitting a seam or connection point in armor plating, in which the highly dense round folds in on itself and makes a short, glowing blue light before detonating in the squeeze of inertia and two elements pressing against it via the seam. These squeezed rounds have been observed creating miniature blue holes, and fill thirty feet of the ships penetrated area with element 2331 shrapnel. The shrapnel has a one hundred percent death rate via penetrating a living body, reducing them to shrieking, howling blue streaks of light and casting a shadow on the ground, or wall, behind the victim.
Nothing left but a single glow of light, and a shadow to mark the passing of a living creature.
Rhidi shivered, eyeing the maliciously glittering blue round with open wariness.
Now from the M2, we go to the MG111, the design of which is nearly as old as the M2! Technical Sergeant Yess said brightly, hefting up the long, thin, blocky looking machine gun. Based off the ancient MG42, this weapon is all about putting rounds down range at an incredible rate of fire! These are standard issue for all Skgarskera and are held upon the armor itself by its power arm!
Drill Sergeant Curahee stepped forward, snapping his fingers to get the attention of both Rhidi and the rest of the recruits. Skera armor is earned, in which all of you may attempt the trials. It is our heaviest armor and most powerful, allowing the trooper hefting the MG111 to step out of their pod and begin laying hate at a high rate of fire.
And it is due to that high rate of fire that only those wearing the armor can wield these weapons. They are issued to you much in the same way your SR-113 was, and you will bear their number upon your arm in addition to any others may have! Technical Sergeant Yess chirped, smiling brightly with crinkled golden eyes at those before her. Those of you who do not have the Skgarskera will instead be using the M260 Boar!
She rested her hands on a long, ugly weapon that Rhidi squinted at hard: It had rivets.
Rivets.
A space faring race of warriors, that dropped from above orbit drop pods, used a weapon with rivets on it.
These used to fire a round known as the 7.62NATO, but now fire the usual 30-06 Heritage, while the MG111 fires the 8mm Spandau. The Boar can be wielded from the shoulder or from a prone position, due to its slower rate of fire. You see, the Boar fires at a rate of around six hundred and fifty rounds per minute. The MG111, however, fires at fifteen hundred rounds per minute. Technical Sergeant Yess said with an inclination of her head, and she paused to let that number sink in to the non-Humans.
The silence was loud.
Technical Sergeant Yess continued on. There is of course the Mk19, which has been mostly unchanged since its first days in the military. Its job is to launch 40mm grenades, and it does its job well. Besides the DN-9 rocket launcher, these are your main weapons besides the rifles you are all issued with, as well as pistols should the environment call for it. You will all fire multiple belts of ammunition at targets at various ranges, and get a feeling for how these beasts handle!
There was a murmur of excitement amongst all the recruits, including the Human ones, but everyone fell silent as the golden-eyed woman held up a finger.
I am aware, as is plain to see, that some of you are alien. You are not Human, and you may look down on our weapons. Technical Sergeant Yess said, setting her hands on her hips. You may have your fancy, high-tech weapons like your gaur-rail carbines, lazer-crop emitters and pulse rifles, and you may view our kit as archaic, but let me ask you something.
She held up two fingers, turning and addressing them all in a sweeping, frowning gaze that only lingered on the off-world faces. We used these weapons to dig ourselves out of annihilation, and to dig the graves of the Pactless. Then, when your lot came whimpering across the stars looking for help, it was our weapons that cleaved through planets and scoured space of the Ur. We have weapons made by warriors and perfected through bloodshed; Treat them with respect, and remember what they were built to do. There is no stun setting on a Human weapon.
Everyone non-Human nodded in agreement, if just to make sure the golden-eyed woman didnt frown at them again.
After going over how all the weapons worked, they were then tasked with dry runs; They had to load a fake belt of ammo, rack it properly, show the other NCO instructors that it was fed, clear jams, break them down, the whole shebang. The dry run alone took 3 hours, and Rhidi was already sweating through her uniform top.
It was cold inside the classroom of course, but it was Technical Sergeant Yess that was causing her to internally combust from nerves.
The golden eyed Human, thinking it funny, had gathered up all the yellow Kafya, all five of them. This was akin to gathering up the rich kids in a classroom and the teacher giving them a private lesson. It also caused a miniature power struggle within the small group. Two of them were males, pretty little things that Rhidi knew would fetch a massive dowry back home, and the other two females were power hungry little shits that were in it for the prestige.
It surprised Rhidi, but she was quietly wishing she had been stuck with the blues instead
Technical Sergeant Yesss floral body spray and soft voice was playing hell with Rhidis nerves, not helping the overall discomfort. Rhidi knew she liked men, that much was obvious, and it had been beaten into her head all through her life that she was to marry a male Kafya in the future in order to produce children.
At the same time, there was something to the female Human; Rhidi wasnt sure if it was her oddly long canines or easy-flowering smiles, but she kept making Rhidis heart beat faster. Technical Sergeant Yess had accidently touched her hand while showing her how to load the Mk19, discussing the ghost round dilemma, and Rhidi had to fight to keep her blood pressure down.
They were finally released out onto the range, staffed with an array of weapons as well as attending NCOs, and Rhidi was somewhat happy to be back out in the heat and away from Technical Sergeant Yess.
The first weapon Rhidi got her hands on was a well warmed up M2 sitting on a power-jack, as all the Humans had gone before the off-worlders. Having only seen it in action, holding the pair of handles in her own hands felt as if she could take on any enemy with it; It was huge, blocky, rectangular, and radiated a primal power that she could not put a finger on. So much potential war was within the thing, a creature made purely of steel and lubricants that fired a round larger than most peoples fingers. Sure, the Kafya and other races had their own larger weapons, but they were not as raw as the M2.
Their weapons had fire control systems, friend or foe sensors, digital readouts for range, wind, and terrain.
The M2 had a butterfly trigger, a rear peep sight, and a hooded front sight.
A raw, pure, unrelenting steel workhorse that plowed death, and harvested souls.
Rhidi remembered she had to load the thing first, and popped up the top of the feed tray cover with a twist of the bolt latch. With a pair of clicks it came forward, and Rhidi dragged over the belt of gleaming .50BMG ball rounds.
There were two ways to load this metal creature, one being to feed in an open link, or opening the feed tray to do it manually. Rhidi thought the open tray version was less fussy, having to only worry about the feed tray assembly while making sure the first round and link were seated. She slapped the cover down, rapped the top of it with her fist, then took her right hand to the charging handle, grabbing it with a palm-up grip.
With a satisfying, systematic chorus of metal parts moving in concert, Rhidi pulled the charging handle back, let it slam forward, then pulled back on the handle again. There was no hum of power like the weapons of her homeworld, no twittering chirr of magnet coils coming online just the quiet, soft ring of an empty link. A weapon forged by killers, honed by warriors, championed by these iron-blooded soldiers of Earth, and patient by nature.
It waited for her to press her thumbs down onto the butterfly trigger, the entire weapons nature seeming to coil, eagerly awaiting the release of its bolt and to split the air with its own voice.
Rhidi hunched down behind the rear sight, and pressed down with both her thumbs.
There was no controlled pulse of a highly advanced weapon, no light thrum of power as it discharged. The M2 bucked and thundered in her hands like a living animal, splitting the air with its warcry as Rhidi kept her thumbs pressed down on the butterfly.
She let ten rounds fly down range without any real thought of aim, then let off the trigger. The weapon had the same energy as wielding a club into battle and beating an enemy to death, a profound intimacy of purely mechanical energy propelling what was nothing more than a short, leaden arrow through the air.
It made her shake.
Rhidi let out the air she didnt realize she had been holding, her breath shuddering as she now understood the power she held in her two paw-hands. The M2 was the biggest stick on the battlefield, and its only job was to beat things to death
Give it a little more juice Private, its a machine gun. Drill Sergeant Curahee said, tapping her on the side of her head. And try aiming this time, all you did was scare the piss out of some moles.
Rhidi nodded, her ears pinned back as she got down further behind the weapon and pressed down on the trigger again. She couldnt fully make heads or tails of how it felt, but it was humbling that the weapon shook her like a child. Each burst rattled her hands, arms, and shoulders, shaking her bones as if she were a sack of dice. When one belt was empty, she had to quickly change out the weapon, all while being timed by Drill Sergeant Curahee.
By the time she finished all of her belts and was sent on to the next station, her hands were shaking.
Rhidi looked at her hands, rotating them at the wrist back and forth while watching her twitching, quivering fingers. Her nerves buzzed, her brain sang, but the M2 was merely a warm up to what would be the weapon that would take her olive-drab stained heart.
From the M2 she went over to the station with the M260, and its slow rate of fire made her think of it as the M2s child. It was comfortable, mildly soothing with its thrumming chatter of fire, and was very easy to control. The addition of a buttstock made firing it even easier, and she found it to be a very smooth weapon to wield.
Then there was MG111.
The weapon was mounted to a control arm that, judging by the servos, worked overtime as soon as the weapon was mounted. It was long, thin, and bristled with an energy that was far more chaotic than either the M260 or the M2. Those weapons had a powerful, stalwart energy to them, but the MG111 it felt like a wild, frantic animal in Rhidis hands. The high-tailed buttstock sat firmly in the shoulder, sending a signal to the servo arm that the time was nigh. The whole set up sat next to a small table bearing boxes of ammunition belts, which an NCO leaned against.
Rhidi pulled the weapon into her shoulder after getting the belt into place; She would also have to do a barrel change, the hot barrel being automatically spat out onto the ground. A new barrel then had to be shoved into place, or else the weapon would literally melt itself. The servo arm whirred and trilled as it activated, its job to both support the weight of the MG111 as well as help with the recoil.
And stars above, was there recoil.
Rhidis pearly eyes snapped wide open, and she actually bared her fangs as she pulled against the heavy trigger; The brake on the weapons barrel spat a six armed flame, throwing dust through the air and shoving the weapon into Rhidis shoulder as if it were testing her. She only held the trigger for a scant two seconds, and fifty rounds had already split the air with a deafening blurr of noise.
Angry little bitch, aint she? A female Human Sergeant said from beside Rhidi, making a note on her data-slate. To pass this station, you aliens dont have to complete a full belt without stopping, you just have to get used to how the weapon handles. For now, use this belt to get a feel for her.
A feel for her?! Rhidi shouted out, her nerves flaring just in the same way they did the first time she had to fly a scout-skimmer. It feels like it wants to kill me!
The NCO shrugged. Ah, well, all part of her charm.
Rhidi reset herself behind the weapon, pulling the sights back up to her face, and snarled as she pulled back on the trigger. The deafening, mad cackle of the MG111 filled Rhidis earpro again, splitting the air as if the weapon thought calm was an affront to its metal God of bloodshed. The muzzle flash from the brake was so bright that it turned Rhidis pale, ivory eyes orange and yellow, casting a wildfire of light across her pupils.
By the time the weapon slammed to a halt, Rhidi had gone through an entire hundred round belt in only four seconds of total trigger time.
Rhidi was breathing hard as she lowered the weapon with a whirr of the servo arm, squinting down range at the single target she had been trying to aim at.
She had sawed it in half, the limp cardboard target laying destitute in the gravel of the range.
Now you know why people will nearly kill themselves to earn the armor. The female Sergeant said next to her, smiling. Recruits tear their muscles to pieces, just for the chance to earn the right. No alien has managed this task yet.
Rhidi panted out into the hot Georgia air, even her knees shuddering as she held the beast of a weapon in her hands. She pulled back on the long, vertical charging handle, knowing shed have to in order to load it. Its mechanical transition was manic, as if eager to keep chewing through brass and too impatient to wait.
Load a thousand round belt, after which you will do a barrel change. The Sergeant said flatly, tapping at her data-slate. You may be the first to manage holding it up for three hundred rounds, if you have the stuff.
Stuff? Rhidi asked, pulling over a long belt of ammunition and opening the feed tray cover to the MG111.
The NCO nodded, smiling over at Rhidi. Yep, the stuff. Now load and fire.
Rhidi nodded, shut the feed tray with a slap of her fist, pulled the belts loading tongue into place, and got behind the weapon. The servo arm gave a whirr, and Rhidi pulled back against the trigger.
Holding that maniacal weapon in place on her shoulder was a feat of strength alone, and she gave in only three hundred rounds into the long burst. Rhidi let out an angry, ragged exhale as she lowered the weapon, both frustrated at the recoil, and impressed the weapon was able to sustain such a high rate of fire.
Not bad, I can tell you got a little over three hundred there. The female Sergeant murmured, leaning to the side to spit some dark, foul liquid into the range gravel. Keep at it.
Rhidi shook her head, and brought the weapon back up. She managed to keep the trigger pressed for five hundred rounds this time, baring her teeth and yelling against the thrumming thunder-wave that was the MG111s percussion cloud of noise. She shouted out in a rage against her quaking arm muscles, letting the weapon droop before ripping the MG111 back into place on her shoulder to finish firing the belt.
The weapon, despite its archaic nature and history, let out a series of trilling beeps before opening a small cage on the side of the forward heat shield housing. A glowing, red hot barrel was spat out from it, causing Rhidi to dance and step around the hissing steel alloy while fishing out the other barrel.
Much akin to a magazine, Rhidi shoved the barrel into place and the cage snapped shut, letting out a single beep to show it was secured.
She may be old, but they all have a few modern tricks to them. The Sergeant said, and tapped on her data-slate some more as she typed something in. You have two more belts to try and achieve Human passing goals, if you cant do it in two, youre moving on to the Mk19.
Rhidi set her face in a grim mask of determination as she went through the loading process again, pulling the belt into place with a crisp click of the loading tongue and bringing the weapon to her shoulder.
She was already tired, both her brain and her body knew that, but she took this weapon as a personal challenge if not a personal affront. The MG111 was acting as a gate keeper between her and the barest level of Human success rates, and she refused to be barred like the rest. The weapon was just another animal of Earth, and she was going to tame it come hell or highwater.
Rhidi took aim, and pulled back on the trigger. She managed six hundred rounds, but her muscles failed her yet again. She finished the belt, then angrily pulled another into place. She held it up for only five hundred rounds this time, letting go of the trigger and letting out a pained, aching exhale as her arms quaked from the abuse.
She had failed, and she knew it.
Rhidi pulled the weapon back to her shoulder, and finished the rest of the belt. The MG111 had won, and she had been filtered out with the rest of the off-worlders. When she went to turn to the female Sergeant, she instead came face to face with Drill Sergeant McPhiston.
Tired, Private? Drill Sergeant McPhiston asked her in a tone that was inlaid with dozens of other questions, all probing her for weakness.
Rhidi froze, still holding the steaming MG111. ... No, Drill Sergeant. I am unable to master this weapon.
But you want to, dont you? Drill Sergeant McPhiston said in an even more unknown tone to Rhidi, his dull hazel eyes watching her closely. Somehow, the Human was layering in second and third fractions of conversation merely in how he spoke, asking three questions instead of one.
Rhidi chewed over his words, his tone, the way he stared at her, even though her tail was shaking from exhaustion and her frayed nerves. She nodded once, trying to hold his gaze with her own. Yes, Drill Sergeant.
Belt! Drill Sergeant McPhiston barked out, making her visibly startle as he kept his eyes on Rhidis until a box was set on the table next to them. Drill Sergeant McPhiston turned to it, slowly dragging out the long chain of brass by its loading tongue. Aint a one in this Company that thinks an alien can master the MG111. Everyone believes youre too weak. Not enough iron in your blood, not enough Human in you to wield our hardest steel. Not a one of you has passed this station yet, and I know that no one after you will manage it either. Its making my military bearings grind together, and I do not like the chatter they make in my head.
Drill Sergeant McPhiston placed the loading tongue into Rhidis trembling paw-hand, and she pinched it with her fingers as he leaned in towards her. His breath brushed against her face fur as he whispered, touching the brim of his campaign hat to the side of her head. Give me one, Private. Give me hope that I am not just wasting my time training a bunch of non-Humans to play war.
Rhidi nodded, and loaded the belt with lightning speed. Despite the sudden rush of energy, she failed at five hundred rounds again, drooping at the shoulders and letting out a ragged exhale.
Belt! Drill Sergeant McPhiston bellowed, opening the feed tray of Rhidis MG111 and ripping the partially spent belt out of it.
Rhidi was stunned, not daring to move until Drill Sergeant McPhiston slammed the belt-tongue into her paw-hand again.
Load! Drill Sergeant McPhiston roared, and Rhidi loaded the belt into place
She got only to three hundred before her arms gave out, her nerves frayed, and jittered in alarm when Drill Sergeant McPhiston ripped the belt out of her weapon again.
Belt! Drill Sergeant McPhiston bellowed, and slapped the feeding tongue into Rhidis hand again. Load! Load damn you! Give me one! Give me one, Private Rhidi! Do not tell me all I have done is waste my time and energy on some scrawny skag from the stars!
Rhidi, with hands shaking and lips twitching, loaded the belt as quickly as possible.
Fire! Drill Sergeant McPhiston shouted, pulling off his campaign hat and pointing it down range past Rhidis head. And dont you dare drop that weapon, Private Rhidi! Dont you dishonor me by dropping that fucking weapon! You hold it up! You keep firing! You dont stop until the weapon does, do you hear me?! Fire!
Rhidi pulled back on the trigger, and leaned into the weapon as it started splitting the air apart with its report. She was perhaps four hundred rounds into the belt when she felt her arms want to give way, but she slid her lips away from her teeth, baring her fangs at her own weakness as she trembled, holding the weapon as steady as she could.
Drill Sergeant McPhiston was yelling at her, gesturing with his brown-round, but she couldnt hear him. Hell, she couldnt even hear her own heart with the amount of noise this damn machine gun made.
Her muscles ached, strained, and shuddered. Her aim was more of a concept rather than a practice at this point, and her knees were starting to give way. As the rounds spewed out of the MG111, Rhidi pinned her ears back, her face in a full, twisted snarl as she fought against fatigue. Her eyes radiated with a bonfire of light from the flash of the MG111, the shrill beeps of the barrel overheat warning inaudible, but still she pressed on.
The words crept back into her mind as her eyes began to fill with angry tears; Her own military wanted her to become a nurse, and she had to fight to see combat. Her own mother wanted her to get married and have kids, even though all she wanted to do was live. The Humans thought she was weak, and had already assumed they would all fail. She just wanted to be strong, to be a warrior.
To belong where she wanted to be.
She screamed. It was an angry, frustrated, rueful scream, but it was all she could do as she held onto the weapon with all the strength she could summon from within her. The scream itself could not be heard beyond the weapon, and if anything, Rhidi was just screaming at the weapon itself, this long piece of steel alloy that was designed to keep her out, just like the color of her fur.
When she ran out of breath, she ran out of brass, and the weapon fell silent as she did, almost as if the weapon itself had swallowed her weakness and kept it to itself. Rhidi panted hard, dragging air into her lungs as if she were starving, her shoulders and back quaking as the heat of the barrel warbled the air in front of her, hissing as lubricants were cooked away.
Rhidi blinked to herself, sighing out and coughing, but quickly became highly aware that all of her Drill Sergeants were around her.
Link is still in place, brass is below the plate. Drill Sergeant Prince said, pointing a finger at the MG111. You know the rules.
Drill Sergeant McPhiston grunted, narrowing his eyes at Drill Sergeant Prince. We both know the rules, and if the payload is still spent, it still counts. Open your tray cover, Rhidi.
Y-Yes, Drill S-Sergeant. Rhidi croaked, fussing with the lever as her numb fingers fought against her, buzzed to near death by the vibrating weapon.
A single piece of 8mm brass had failed to fully extract, likely due to lack of lubrication, and was halfway out the barrel. Drill Sergeant McPhiston, campaign hat back on his head, leaned forwards and pulled back on the charging handle, catching the brass before it fell fully from the bottom of the weapon.
The single piece of brass was clenched in his scarred fist, and he held it up before himself, Rhidi, and the other Drill Sergeants. He opened it, and there in his palm was a still hot, slightly marred, spent, piece of 8mm brass.
One. Drill Sergeant McPhiston said with a small, satisfied smile, then tucked the piece of brass into his shoulder pocket. He stood up straight, and slowly took the MG111 away from Rhidi. Private Rhidi, you have passed this station. Move on to the Mk19.
Rhidi nodded, smiling brightly with ears tall and chest swelling as much as her exhaustion allowed. Yes, Drill Sergeant.
She then made her way down the line towards the grenade launcher, knowing that everyone had their eyes on her back as she awkwardly ambled down the line.