The Conscripts: Fight or Die (Blood War Book 3) (8 page)

“Where are we going? This isn’t the way we came,” the tallest of the two said.

“Shortcut,” Mati replied.

The two guards fell in behind the three recruits and Mati. The sidewalk led down the side of the mess hall then turned left behind it. Once they were in back of the mess hall, Sergeants Ura and Chucha stepped out of the darkness into the glare of the single flood light behind the mess hall.

“What is the meaning of this, Sergeant Mati?” Ura snapped.

Mati had instructed them after chow that this was the signal. The two guards’ attention was turned toward Ura and Chucha when Ardan, Dieter, and Minga struck. Mati had told them to go for crippling blows immediately. They were too muscled up for a normal fight. She said, “Remember how I took the other two down.”

Ardan landed the first blow. He used the momentum of his turn to face the guards to jump and land a perfect roundhouse kick to the jaw of the tallest guard. Dieter could hear his jaw break with a loud crack. He dropped to the ground.

Minga simply leaned forward and went for the knee of the other guard with a straight back kick. He screamed and bent over to grab his knee. When he did, Dieter’s roundhouse only grazed his head, but it knocked him to the ground.

Dieter and Minga stepped back to let Ardan have his revenge. Ardan walked over to the guard who was groaning and clutching his knee. The three drill instructors stood watching the scene with their hands on their hips, their faces hard and expressionless. Ardan kicked the groaning guard in the head and knocked him out. Then he stepped between the guard’s legs and very carefully stomped the heel of his boot down. Once, twice, and he had raised it for a third time when he realized he had accomplished what he wanted to. He walked to the other guard and did the same. When he was finished between his legs, he moved to his head and raised his foot for a killing blow.

“Stop,” Sergeant Ura ordered.

Ardan froze in mid-movement.

“Enough.”

Ardan was breathing hard when he stepped back from the prone figure. Dieter glanced over at Sergeant Mati. She had a small, satisfied smile on her face.

“Sergeant Mati, take them back to the barracks. We will take care of these two.”

As Sergeant Mati marched them back to the barracks, she told them how it would go. “You will tell the other members of the platoon that it was a mistake and we straightened it out.”

“But what about—” Ardan blurted out.

“Halt,” Mati snapped.

The three stopped and stood at attention. Sergeant Mati came around and stood in front of them.

“What you don’t know can’t hurt you. So don’t ask any more questions about our visitors unless you want to go to the brig for a long time. You three will keep your mouths shut about what just happened. You three are in a very tough spot. The penal battalions are no picnic. You may have to do something similar one day just to survive. We have trained you to survive, and that is what you will do. Do not give up. There is a chance for you to escape all of this, but I cannot explain it now.”

Sergeant Mati returned to her position next to the three and said, “Forward march.”

Dieter, for the first time since he had started boot camp, could not sleep that night. What had happened and what Sergeant Mati had said kept rolling around in his head, keeping him awake.

#

The last days were much like the days before, only they were polishing their skills instead of learning them. One day after evening chow, Sergeant Ura called for school circle in the barracks. All three drill instructors were in the barracks that night, which was not normal. When the platoon was seated in front of Ura, he nodded to the other drill instructors. They each went to a door and began to look out, as if to keep watch. Ura waited until they both nodded before he started to speak.

“Some of you might have figured out that our reason for becoming part of the penal battalions seemed lame. You were right. We were not sent here to help a few random prisoners survive the coming combat. We are part of the Legion’s underground, as we call it. Many of us, as we told you, had a choice of prison or the Legion. The Legion saved us. All three of us had that choice, but you had no choice. You were sent here for no reason other than that you were poor and some rich corporate type wanted to get out of serving the Confederation. Each of you was chosen carefully before you were assigned to our platoon. Your crime was being poor and being able-bodied. You see, if someone washes out of boot camp, all the corporate type has to do is pay for another body. So you were carefully vetted according to age and physical abilities before you were charged. Your only crime was being poor and in shape.”

Ura stopped as he let what he had just said sink in to each and every one of them. Dieter looked at Ardan and Minga. He wondered if he wore as surprised a look as they did.

“Well, as veterans we are voting citizens of the Confederation. Given we are so few compared to the rich, we are unable to change the laws. So we are doing what all good Legionnaires do. We adapt. There are members of this underground spread throughout the penal battalion system. There are other platoons like this one. Not as many as we would like, but it is a start. We have trained you as if you had entered the Legion. Those of you who sit in front of me are Legionnaires. You would have passed selection had you enlisted. Never forget that.”

Dieter was stunned to think of himself as being as tough and competent as a Legionnaire. He had never thought of himself as tough. Now he was being told that not only was he tough, but tough enough to be considered part of one of the most elite military organizations ever to take the field.

“We did not spend our time and effort and risk prison just to make sure you were well trained. Tomorrow you will receive your Von Fleet tracking tattoo, but tonight you will receive a tattoo that will mark you as one of us. This tattoo will let every other former Legionnaire know that you are one of us. When it is scanned, it will show our Legion names, ranks, and serial numbers. It is our stamp of approval. The reason for the tattoo is that the word has gone out that you are worthy and should be taken care of by other Legionnaires. What does this mean? Under certain conditions your sentence can be commuted and you will be allowed to join the Marines. You would then have your record expunged and you would be serving with the best new organization. What are these conditions? They are simple. Excel in combat. You will excel in combat because you are trained to do so, unlike the other penal platoons. So your jobs are simple. Survive and show the tattoo you are about to receive to the first Legionnaire you can find. Neither of those tasks will necessarily be easy, but you will do them. Do you understand?”

The barracks windows vibrated with the volume of their, “Aye, aye sir!”

Ura paused, then looked at Mati and Chucha. They both nodded yes.

“First squad, line up to my left.”

Dieter was the first-squad leader, and he was first in line. Ura took a tattoo gun out of draw of drill instructors desk in the squad bay.

“Uncover your right arm.”

Dieter rolled up his sleeve and presented his arm to Ura. Ura pressed the tattoo gun against his skin.

“The small gold circle represents a grenade, and the gold leaves above it represent the flames when the grenade explodes. The square with red and green separated by a diagonal slash shows the colors of an ancient and storied French Foreign Legion. No one will know what this means unless they are another Legionnaire. If they ask what it is, they are not one of us. Say anything you like. Do not explain it to anyone but another Legionnaire. The word has gone out to all the former Legionnaires who are now serving. They will know what to do once they have seen the emblem.”

Ura pressed the tattoo gun against Dieter’s arm near his shoulder. It hurt like hell for a few seconds, then it was over. Dieter returned to his seat on the floor, staring at the tattoo, trying to absorb all that he had just been told. He had a chance. He had a way out of all of this. Ura finished the rest of the platoon. Once they were all seated, Ura said, “Understand you will be fighting next to platoons that have little or none of the type of training you have had. The only way you will survive long enough to get out of the penal battalions is to watch each other’s backs. You will fight together as a platoon. You can and will survive long enough to transfer to the normal service. If you do not, you will have wasted our time. Understand?”

“Aye, aye sir!”

“Very well. You are dismissed except for Fenes, Ardan, and Minga. You three are to report to the drill instructors’ office immediately.”

Dieter, with the other two, followed Ura to the drill instructors’ office. They stood at attention by the door before entering. Dieter pounded as hard as he could on the doorjamb three times.

“Sir, Prisoner Recruits Fenes, Ardan, and Minga reporting as ordered.”

“Come.”

Ura was seated behind a simple desk. The other two drill instructors stood on either side of him.

“Minga, close the hatch.”

Minga closed the door and returned to attention in front of the desk. Ura stared at the three for a long moment before he spoke.

“We have not brought you three in here because of what happened the other night. That is over and done. It has been taken care of. Do not ask questions. Legionnaires do this for one another. Now the three of us have watched you from day one, and you are the natural leaders in this platoon. The other members look up to you. You will take that leadership role on. You will look after the platoon members as if you were noncommissioned officers. You will take the lead during combat. You will not let them die, or everything the three of us and all the others have risked will be in vain. Have no doubt some will die no matter what you do, but do not let this platoon be put into a position that gets you all killed. We have taught you well. You three have exceeded our expectations. Now it is time to live up to your potential. Understood?”

“Aye, aye, sir!” the three said in unison.

“Now each of us would like to give you some parting words to go by as you face your futures,” Ura said.

“Remember you are warriors. That means your body is your best weapon. If it is not up to the fight, then your equipment will not save you.”

Ura paused to let his words sink in.

“The difference in most battles comes down to just two things: your willpower and endurance. The will to never give up combined with the ability to continue to march when everyone else is down will win every time.”

Fenes could almost feel the stares of the other two drill instructors.

“In the midst of battle you must remain the eye of the hurricane. All those around you may be just reacting, not stopping to think. You must be the calm one, even if your instincts are to do the same as the others. Remain calm and think. Making a decision is always better than not making a decision.

“Every day is a training day. You will fight the way you train. If you train sloppy you will die. Train like you fight. Tolerate no slacking off in training.

“Platoon mates are going to be wounded and some will die. Understand that. Be prepared for it. Carry on no matter what. Complete the mission. If you do not, then those who died will have died in vain.

“If a senior NCO or officer has a wound badge, watch what they are doing. They are probably making the best decisions.

“Remember being a leader is not just giving orders. If there is a line for something good, then get in the back and make sure your troops get some before you do. If there is a line for something bad get in the front of it, show your platoon how it is done. Your troops will notice and it will say more than any long-winded speech about leadership. Keep the platoon together and make sure they are ready for combat.”

At that point Ura did something Dieter could not have imagined a few months ago. He stood and extended his hand. Dieter took his hand and shook it. Mati and Chucha did the same. Each said, “Good luck, Legionnaire.”

Dieter and the other two about-faced and left the room.

Sol System

Earth

City State of New York

Kat straddled Dasan’s hips, her large, perfect breasts swaying as she rode him. Dasan reached up and clutched her breasts as they climaxed together. With a small growl of pleasure, Kat collapsed onto Dasan’s chest. He put his arms around her and they lay there saying nothing. They were in Kat’s bedroom, the curtains turned clear so they could see the sea of lights beyond. Sunlight was just beginning to glow below the horizon. Dasan had spent every night with Kat since they met. When his leave was over, he had continued to spend the nights with her and commuted to the base.

“Mmmm,” Kat said, stroking Dasan’s chest. “How long before you have to go?”

“Not long. I have an early meeting today,”

Kat sat up and looked down at him, her face serious. “Last night you were talking in your sleep. Something about ‘They’re coming on the right.’ You were tossing and turning. Then you said, ‘No, not Padma.’ What was that all about?”

Dasan rolled off the bed and went to the window.

“I’m sorry, babe. I guess I was dreaming about Rift again.”

Kat came up to him and put her arms around him from behind. “Who was Padma?”

“She was a medic in my unit. The best there was. She was killed by a wounded hybrid. He blew himself and her up in front of us. That’s why we don’t take prisoners. It happened a number of times. But Padma was the best and one of the first. She was just blown into.…” Dasan stopped, unable to describe what explosives did to a medic with her helmet hinged back.

Kat turned him around and stared up at him. “I can’t begin to understand what you’ve been through, but know this. I’m here for you. Know that. Last night when you were dreaming, I took you in my arms and it seemed to help. If I can do nothing else, I’ll be here for you.”

Dasan stared at her for a long moment.

“Kat, Rift won’t go away, nor 703. What I’ve seen and what I will see will always be with me. There will be more battles, more memories. They will just keep piling up on one another. It won’t get better. You have to understand that.”