Vanguard: Awakening

Awakening: Chapter One

Warning: strong use of language

"Alpha! Bravo! Line up!"

Camp Orion, one of the most active basic training locations erected by the United Countries Space Command in years passed. Here, eager recruits test their mettle and hone their skills for the future. The alumni were strict, abrasive, and abundant - but through their training, recruits become soldiers - ideally. It was more like a mercenary force in the current year, regardless of their pretense.

Cedric Fuller is one of many, a fresh recruit with hopes and dreams of escaping his terrible situation and making something of himself. As per usual, the way things go are hit or miss. He wasn't good, he wasn't bad. Just an average human being trying to be more than his lot granted by society. Signing the papers was trivial, and he remembered not-so-fondly the seemingly joyous reaction his mother had to him joining.

"Private Fuller, the fuck is your problem? You had ONE fucking job, and you fucked it up. How is that even possible?"

Cedric quickly stammered to reply, but before he could say his piece, he was cut off by the yelling of the drill major.

"I-I"

"Shut your fucking mouth! In fact, don't talk at all. You're dead! Thanks to your fuck up, the rest of your squad has to carry your limp ass to the casualty collection zone! Private Tern, get this failure to the sand pit. Thirty push ups on arrival, both of you. MOVE!"

Cedric lay on the ground, his face up to gaze at the clouds. The rough hands of Tern scooped up what she could of his now limp body, and proceeded to buddy-carry him to the nearest sand pit. Cedric got a good look at Tern, her dark hair and tan skin glistening with sweat in the sunlight - a disapproving grunt on her dusted face. It was a nice thing to appreciate, the UCSC had no care of race, gender, sex, upbringing, or preferences - so long as they could pull their weight during operations. The weight in this particular case, being Cedric's relatively thin body. Tern met his gaze.

"Nice fucking job, cabrón. What made you think that lifting your head during a fake-fire exercise was a smart idea? Estúpido."

"Private Tern! Why the fuck are you talking to a corpse? Scheduling a fucking date? Just move the casualty!"

Drill Major Galena was a tough-as-nails woman, rugged angular facial features complimenting her white skin - shadowed by the traditional Drill Major hat. Similar to campaign hats of tradition, they were a badge of authority. Marking her expertise in not only turning raw recruits into hardened veterans, but also her willpower in surviving the mental debts incurred by regular operations in space. Accidents, spacings, pirate attacks, corporate espionage, and even illegal mining encounters take its toll - with no mercy shown to individuals. Many new UCSC soldiers don't survive their first year - through either death or resignation. Resignations are worse than death - permanently marking the initiators as 'Technical Traitors' and condemning them to a much harder future - proxy of their dishonorable discharges eschewn from 'Failure to Perform' violations.

Tern shook her head, and proceeded to the sand pit. This time, attempting to whisper.

"If that was live fire, you'd be jodidamente muerto hombre. Stupid. Stupid!"

Cedric stole a glance at the Drill Major, before deciding it was safe to reply.

"I know! I know! Don't have to keep reminding me. It was just instinctual. I swear I heard someone struggling beside me. If it was a serious issue I could help them across."

"Sí, well. Your shitty instincts are gonna fucking kill you next time"

"HOLY SHIT are you two still fucking talking?"