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Just one of two novels I'll be working on here in the Gallery--I may not get to working on Forerunner for a while. Enjoy.
Chapter Selection
One
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One
I guess I've always had a taste for adventure. Otherwise, I would have never joined the United Nations Space Command. Hell, I knew I'd be up against the Covenant as soon as I signed that form, but damn, they never warned me about this. And by "this", I'm of course reffering to the company commander of Dog company. Commander Simpson is his name, and hell, I think I'd rather gut him like a pig than I would those alien bastards.
You see, Commander Simpson one tough mother. He's not only been in combat with the Covenant since the beginning of the war, but he's had his fair share of kills on 'em, too. And we hate him. Every single trainee in Dog company hates him. He works us too hard, has this odd obsession with wanting to be the best company in all of the damned UNSC. We ain't Helljumpers, I don't think I'd ever be able to live up to that. I've seen what kind of stuff those guys go through.
But still, Simpson treats the trainees of Dog company like... well, dogs.
"Move it, faster private!" the commander yells. We're on a PT run at the moment, and hell, my legs are about to give in. I shake my head, bite on my teeth. It's the only way I can show my frustration. The commander pulls up to me, noticing my red face. He knows I'm pissed. "You've got something to say, private?" he bellows, jogging beside me. Spittle lands on my face, from his mouth, no doubt.
I hesitate. "No, sir, commander, sir!" I lie, tone full of hate. This isn't our first PT run today. It's our third. And I know by experience that we'll keep on running until we do it flawlessly.
"Damn straight," he retorts, and then pulls ahead of me. I curse his name behind his back, observing the others within my unit. They're making the same faces I am, and probably thinking the same things. Some of them are even throwring up, not even bothering to stop. Exhaustion. But we'll be even more exhausted if we don't move it.
So I keep on running. We all do.
* * * * *
Back at base camp now. The barracks smell of sweat and vomit, but I'm not complaining. I'm used to it, and some of it is my own. We quickly undress, changing into more formal clothing. There's an assembly down at the mess hall--apparently Admiral Cole is making an appearence. Now why would someone as important as him come all the way down to an outer colony like Bliss? I can only help but to wonder as I dress myself, pulling my pants to meet my waist.
"Friggin' Simpson, man," a familiar voice complains, pulling beside me as I close my locker door. He opens his. I turn, only to see Adam. He's probably the best shot in the whole company, fast too.
I nod. "Works us too hard. Hell, I'd rather be off fighting the Covenant right now than stay here."
He laughs in agreement. "Man, ain't that the truth. Well, we don't have much longer to wait--we're being shipped out tomorrow. Hey, why do you think the admiral's here, anyways? Ain't nothin' important about us."
A simple shrug is all I give him, and I head out for the door. Within moments Adam's fully dressed and we head out to the mess hall together.
* * * * *
In the mess hall now, sitting at a table. I'm more than a little surprised by tonight's dish--it's spaghetti. It's not the best, but it's better than the other crap they usually serve, so I'm not complaining. A few firendly faces are seated around me--Adam, Jacob, Leon, and Johnathon. These are the people I've come to look up to within the months I've spent as a trainee in Dog company. They're currently laughing at a joke Jacob just cracked, but I didn't catch it. Too busy stunned by the spaghetti, I guess.
And then the shouts and laughter of the mess hall die as admiral Cole presents himself on a small podium on the far side. He waits for a few moments as the voices die down, and clears his throat. He isn't using a microphone--just his voice.
"Gentlemen," he acknowledged us. In return, many of the trainees raised glasses of water, somem of them letting out a shout. "Today is a very special day," he tells us. A few glances are shared amongst us, and we let the admiral continue. "It is your last day of training, and it's time to send you out on the line. Now, I understand what you're thinking: 'But, Admiral? Why are you coming here and speaking to the likes of us? Shouldn't you be in orbit, sipping your fancy wine'?"
At that, a few laughs were shared. He waited for them to cease, and continued. "These are desperate times," he told us, voice suddenly serious. "We are losing this war, and humanity hangs in the balance. We've lost planets, we've lost lives, and we've lost hope. Dog company is one of the finest I've seen, if not, the finest"--he nodded to Commander Simpson, whom stood in the crowed, and in return the commander did the same--"and I can honestly say that you men are the finest soldiers I have ever seen."
Just a morale booster, no doubt. We ain't that good, certainly not as good as the ODSTs.
"You'll be moving on board a UNSC frigate tomorrow, soldiers. And you'll be facing the Covenant. Saving lives. Making a difference." A long pause. "Tell me, gentlemen... why is it that we fight?"
Why we fight? Why do we fight? There's not much of an option. We fight because we're scared. Because we're bored of normal lives. Or for vengeance. That's all there is to it. That's all there will ever be to it.
I don't pay much attention to the rest of the speech. My mind lingers on the Admiral's question.
Why do we fight?