THE RECRUIT

CRESH: Integration

Classified Imperial Base
Barracks
Daro
LST: 06:00:00 // DAY: 01
Taipan

Taipan's brain throbs against her skull making the white glowpannels pulse. Her skin burning against the touch of the bunk against her back. She takes in her surroundings expecting to see the cold walls of the medical room. Instead metal surrounds her in a pocket in the wall. She holds her pounding head feeling a cloth tied around her cranial horns. Recruits down the rows of beds are rolling out and climbing down ladders. They're all wearing formfitting black suits. Similar to the wake up routine on Deadlocked she hastily rolls out of bed and lines up parallel to the bunks.

"Good Morning Platoon-Five," says a commando making the word 'good' sound like it is anything but a good morning. He stands in the open doorway of the barracks. His shoulders nearly filling the entire width of the doorjamb. "Now, until each of your squad is appointed a Sergeant— which you will have the opportunity to rank into— I'll be in charge of you nerf-livers. I am your Lieutenant and you will do what I say, how I say and you will not question why I say it. Understood?"

There's a murmur that goes down the line, most of it mumbled agreement.

The Lieutenant's glowing blue T-visor gives anonymity to the faceless man. She can feel his eyes boring into her. "Am I going deaf?! Or is this room filled with di'kutla troopers?!"

"Understood, sir!" Rings a chorus of voices. Taipan remains silent unsure if she still has a tongue in the numbness of her mouth.

"Good." The Lieutenant doesn't move a muscle. Without his visible expression Taipan has to listen closely to the annunciation of his words. He almost sounds like the commando who confiscated her footlocker but she can't be for certain. "The first week of bootcamp starts today. That said, if you have complaints keep 'em to yourself. Fall in!"

"Yes, sir!"

The Lieutenant turns and the recruits follow him without another word. Taipan absently steps into line with the others and they exit the barracks.

One foot in front of the other. She reminds herself struggling to focus on the back of the trooper's head who jogs in front of her. Her mind repeats the phrase until her feet begin to drag with every step and her lungs sting with every breath. She nearly bumps into the recruit as they suddenly stop.

"Sanisteams are here," says the Lieutenant. "Lady recruits on the left and boys on the right. Each of you has six minutes to get cleaned up. Grub is at oh-nine-hundred."

Taipan's stomach grumbles at the thought of food but the pounding in her head may not let her keep the meal down.

A voice distinctly solid and familiar reaches her ears. "And get those blacks spotless too." She strains to look over the line of troopers. It's Captain IC-5570, if she remembers correctly. He shoves one of the males through the refresher door. "Clothes ain't gonna wash themselves. Move it."

Upon entering the 'fresher, multiple rows of stalls fill most of the floor space. Water basins line the wall nearest to the door and across the back.

She selects a stall furthest from the few other female recruits. The conversations are just a quiet hum. A sanitation chamber is bolted to the opposite side of the sanisteam. She takes off the cloth tied around her head. It's a black bandana, the threads tightly woven like a piece of canvas. An Imperial insignia is embroidered in white thread to the front. Wonder where this came from? She thinks knowing for a fact she didn't have it in her footlocker.

She peels off the formfitting black body suit putting it and the bandana in the sanitation chamber along with her two piece undergarments. The panel clicks and hisses shut. A little red light on the top winks on.