go before I had to be on the train. I made a reasonable effort but didn't match my lunchtime performance. I think Captain Jack was a little disappointed.
We stowed our trays, and I got 5 minutes for a quick bathroom break before we walked down to an assembly hall where I finally said my goodbyes to Captain Jack. Watching him walk away I started to feel really alone. I'd only known him for a few days, but he'd been the one thing I could latch on to. Everything around me was unfamiliar, and things were happening quickly. I really had no idea what to expect. A few days ago I was in the Bronx, a member of the Wolfpack who lived by terrorizing a bunch of poor workers. Now, after a close brush with death I was on my way to becoming a marine? To fighting in space? I couldn't get my mind to focus on anything. I was in a state of shock.
The mag-train ride to New Houston was comfortable and quick. Once we cleared the city the train accelerated to 500 kph, so we reached New Houston in less than five hours.
The train car I was in was full of other recruits, all dressed in the same gray fatigues I was wearing. They looked like a pretty motley bunch, but of course I looked that way too. They were mostly men, but about 20% of them were women. We all pretty much kept to ourselves, and there was very little conversation. I don't know how they all ended up here, but most of them looked about as stunned as I was.
It was dark for most of the trip, which was disappointing. I'd never been out of New York, and I would have loved to see some of the scenery. With nothing much to do I slept through most of the ride, and I woke up to the announcement that we would be arriving in fifteen minutes. The trained slowed, and we passed through a large plasti-crete wall and past two security towers before stopping at a long, open platform.
"Alright boys and girls, up! Let's get moving. Now!"
I hadn't even noticed the sergeant enter the car, but there he was, standing in the doorway barking at us in a voice that seemed to be half hostility and half amusement. People started getting up and moving toward the front of the car. I reached up to grab my duffel, as about half the others were doing.
"Don't forget your bags, kiddies! The porters are all busy elsewhere, I'm afraid! Now move your asses. I want everyone out on that platform in three minutes!"
We stumbled out of the crowded car and out onto the platform, milling around aimlessly until the sergeant came over and yelled at us again until we managed to get into a fairly neat line. We marched into one of the buildings where we went through a check in and orientation process that took several hours after which we were led into a large auditorium.
We'd only been sitting a minute when a man walked out onto the stage. He was tall and muscular, with thick black hair speckled gray. He wasn't dressed in the same gray fatigues as we and everyone else we'd seen were wearing. He wore a spotless dark blue coat with polished silver buttons and one platinum star on each shoulder. His neatly creased white pants were tucked into shiny black boots, and a short sword with an intricately carved hilt hung from his waist.
"Hello, and welcome to Camp Puller. My name is Brigadier General Wesley Strummer. As you can see, I've worn my dress blues in honor of your arrival. Take a good look, because you probably won't see another uniform like this unless you graduate. And less than half of you are going to make it that far."
He paused for a few minutes to let that sink in, then continued. "If you don't graduate then you will go back where you came from, and for most of you that wasn't a very pleasant place. Unless of course you die in training. Which will happen to some of you. Maybe a lot of you."
Again, he stopped and let us consider his words. His voice was calm, almost gentle, but without so much as raising his voice he had everyone's
We stowed our trays, and I got 5 minutes for a quick bathroom break before we walked down to an assembly hall where I finally said my goodbyes to Captain Jack. Watching him walk away I started to feel really alone. I'd only known him for a few days, but he'd been the one thing I could latch on to. Everything around me was unfamiliar, and things were happening quickly. I really had no idea what to expect. A few days ago I was in the Bronx, a member of the Wolfpack who lived by terrorizing a bunch of poor workers. Now, after a close brush with death I was on my way to becoming a marine? To fighting in space? I couldn't get my mind to focus on anything. I was in a state of shock.
The mag-train ride to New Houston was comfortable and quick. Once we cleared the city the train accelerated to 500 kph, so we reached New Houston in less than five hours.
The train car I was in was full of other recruits, all dressed in the same gray fatigues I was wearing. They looked like a pretty motley bunch, but of course I looked that way too. They were mostly men, but about 20% of them were women. We all pretty much kept to ourselves, and there was very little conversation. I don't know how they all ended up here, but most of them looked about as stunned as I was.
It was dark for most of the trip, which was disappointing. I'd never been out of New York, and I would have loved to see some of the scenery. With nothing much to do I slept through most of the ride, and I woke up to the announcement that we would be arriving in fifteen minutes. The trained slowed, and we passed through a large plasti-crete wall and past two security towers before stopping at a long, open platform.
"Alright boys and girls, up! Let's get moving. Now!"
I hadn't even noticed the sergeant enter the car, but there he was, standing in the doorway barking at us in a voice that seemed to be half hostility and half amusement. People started getting up and moving toward the front of the car. I reached up to grab my duffel, as about half the others were doing.
"Don't forget your bags, kiddies! The porters are all busy elsewhere, I'm afraid! Now move your asses. I want everyone out on that platform in three minutes!"
We stumbled out of the crowded car and out onto the platform, milling around aimlessly until the sergeant came over and yelled at us again until we managed to get into a fairly neat line. We marched into one of the buildings where we went through a check in and orientation process that took several hours after which we were led into a large auditorium.
We'd only been sitting a minute when a man walked out onto the stage. He was tall and muscular, with thick black hair speckled gray. He wasn't dressed in the same gray fatigues as we and everyone else we'd seen were wearing. He wore a spotless dark blue coat with polished silver buttons and one platinum star on each shoulder. His neatly creased white pants were tucked into shiny black boots, and a short sword with an intricately carved hilt hung from his waist.
"Hello, and welcome to Camp Puller. My name is Brigadier General Wesley Strummer. As you can see, I've worn my dress blues in honor of your arrival. Take a good look, because you probably won't see another uniform like this unless you graduate. And less than half of you are going to make it that far."
He paused for a few minutes to let that sink in, then continued. "If you don't graduate then you will go back where you came from, and for most of you that wasn't a very pleasant place. Unless of course you die in training. Which will happen to some of you. Maybe a lot of you."
Again, he stopped and let us consider his words. His voice was calm, almost gentle, but without so much as raising his voice he had everyone's
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