seen Humans called Imperialists, or sometimes the more unflattering Imps, who underwent a medical procedure to remove all body hair. He supposed it was an attempt to look more like the Tarchein, although an Imp would say it was just a more evolved look. Remus thought it was a silly thing, although a politically connected Imperialist probably stood a better chance of getting their son into the Academy. At any rate, Tommy noted while surveying the room, you had to be sixteen to have your hair removed permanently.
“Looks like you’ve got this one,” Sloan said, pointing to a bed, desk, and locker fixture.
Tommy nodded and moved to a locker positioned at the foot of one of the beds. “Cadet Thorn, Thomas” was displayed in an illuminated strip at the top of the locker.
He took a moment to absorb the new title. I really am a member of Star Force, Tommy thought before pressing his hand to the security pad.
“Six jump suits, PT gear, two pairs of boots…“Sloan spoke out loud while going through his locker.
Tommy likewise surveyed the contents of his locker, running his fingers over the red stylized Banshee patch and name tag stitched onto his dark gray jumpsuits before setting down on his rack and fiddling with the standard controls. Bed temperature, firmness, and individual lighting were all available through touch or voice, though it always took several tries to get it just right. And as for their room, it was small, with just the lockers, desk, two chairs, and beds—they shared a bath with the two occupants in the next cabin—but it was all Tommy needed. Quite nice, he thought. It even had a gravity adjustment, something he was sure Mister Cruise would appreciate.
He had noticed how Gary had labored a bit in the one-G standard throughout the school. Even though Gary had been required, as all aliens with similar limitations, to spends many hours in one-G training facilities before reporting, Tommy could see that he had not yet fully adjusted from the one-third gravity that existed on Mars.
While he was thinking of Gary, the hatch chimed. “Come in,” both Tommy and Sloan said in unison.
The hatch quietly slid open. Bo, followed by Gary, came into the cabin and introduced themselves to Sloan.
“How are your roommates?” Tommy asked.
“I’m a single,” Bo said with an annoying smile.
The Force made every attempt to pair species and gender. Bo got lucky, although Tommy thought a roommate in these early days, and nights, at the academy might be a good thing.
“I’ve got a Martian kid named Demery,” Gary said, plopping down in one of the chairs.
“And…” Tommy prodded—he had a feeling there was more.
“And he’s sitting in our cabin sobbing.”
“Well, it’s been a long day,” Tommy said, looking to Bo and Sloan for a sympathetic comment, but he got none from either the Drake warrior or the self-assured Earthling.
“Hondo Brigade, report to training assembly area Bravo. Hondo Brigade to training assembly area Bravo. Dress is working-class jumper,” the commander’s voice reverberated over the room’s speakers.
“Looks like it’s about to get longer, boys and girls,” Sloan said, already working on the black, top button of his jacket.
“Where in the hell is area Bravo?” Gary asked, turning to Bo.
“It’s loaded into your wristcomm. Did you even look at the orientation guide?” Bo yelled back at Gary, both already out the hatch and heading down the hallway.
Tommy could only smile as he reached for a jumper. Here we go , he thought. Here we go …
The Imperial Star Force, which includes the Warrior Corps, has been recruiting and conscripting alien members into its ranks for almost six hundred years. But it has been only in the last eighty years that aliens were allowed to hold limited-duty commissions, specifically to be placed in billets that commanded units of their own races. Bolstered by the success of these early operations and spurred by the growing demands of the
“Looks like you’ve got this one,” Sloan said, pointing to a bed, desk, and locker fixture.
Tommy nodded and moved to a locker positioned at the foot of one of the beds. “Cadet Thorn, Thomas” was displayed in an illuminated strip at the top of the locker.
He took a moment to absorb the new title. I really am a member of Star Force, Tommy thought before pressing his hand to the security pad.
“Six jump suits, PT gear, two pairs of boots…“Sloan spoke out loud while going through his locker.
Tommy likewise surveyed the contents of his locker, running his fingers over the red stylized Banshee patch and name tag stitched onto his dark gray jumpsuits before setting down on his rack and fiddling with the standard controls. Bed temperature, firmness, and individual lighting were all available through touch or voice, though it always took several tries to get it just right. And as for their room, it was small, with just the lockers, desk, two chairs, and beds—they shared a bath with the two occupants in the next cabin—but it was all Tommy needed. Quite nice, he thought. It even had a gravity adjustment, something he was sure Mister Cruise would appreciate.
He had noticed how Gary had labored a bit in the one-G standard throughout the school. Even though Gary had been required, as all aliens with similar limitations, to spends many hours in one-G training facilities before reporting, Tommy could see that he had not yet fully adjusted from the one-third gravity that existed on Mars.
While he was thinking of Gary, the hatch chimed. “Come in,” both Tommy and Sloan said in unison.
The hatch quietly slid open. Bo, followed by Gary, came into the cabin and introduced themselves to Sloan.
“How are your roommates?” Tommy asked.
“I’m a single,” Bo said with an annoying smile.
The Force made every attempt to pair species and gender. Bo got lucky, although Tommy thought a roommate in these early days, and nights, at the academy might be a good thing.
“I’ve got a Martian kid named Demery,” Gary said, plopping down in one of the chairs.
“And…” Tommy prodded—he had a feeling there was more.
“And he’s sitting in our cabin sobbing.”
“Well, it’s been a long day,” Tommy said, looking to Bo and Sloan for a sympathetic comment, but he got none from either the Drake warrior or the self-assured Earthling.
“Hondo Brigade, report to training assembly area Bravo. Hondo Brigade to training assembly area Bravo. Dress is working-class jumper,” the commander’s voice reverberated over the room’s speakers.
“Looks like it’s about to get longer, boys and girls,” Sloan said, already working on the black, top button of his jacket.
“Where in the hell is area Bravo?” Gary asked, turning to Bo.
“It’s loaded into your wristcomm. Did you even look at the orientation guide?” Bo yelled back at Gary, both already out the hatch and heading down the hallway.
Tommy could only smile as he reached for a jumper. Here we go , he thought. Here we go …
The Imperial Star Force, which includes the Warrior Corps, has been recruiting and conscripting alien members into its ranks for almost six hundred years. But it has been only in the last eighty years that aliens were allowed to hold limited-duty commissions, specifically to be placed in billets that commanded units of their own races. Bolstered by the success of these early operations and spurred by the growing demands of the
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