Warning — Long-ass chapter ahead. Sozzles.
–Tris
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It was dark. The campfire cast a flickering yellow light around the tents. Cadets slept soundly, waiting for orders from their superior.
"Ready up, cadets!" Yelled Sergeant Almas.
The sun was just starting to peek over the eastern skies. It was dawn.
Trei groaned as the other cadets in his regiment got up and prepared to move out.
Ever since he could remember, this was the routine at Camp Artem. The Imperium scouting regiments required strict adherence to protocol, something Trei found extremely unnecessary.
His home world, Malphas VI, was a lush moon orbiting a gas giant in the Malphas system. Being near the core worlds, it was designated for recruitment by the Andromeda Imperium. Trei scoffed at the notion. Conscription is more like it.
He didn't have anything left for him back home. Like all the other cadets, he was taken from his family to serve under the Imperium banner. As the eldest of his four siblings, aged six to twelve, he was an obvious choice from the Corwen family.
As the cadets packed up their tents and extinguished the cook fires, Trei wondered what today had in store for him. Probably running, hand-to-hand combat training, running, hover bike riding, running, marksman training, running, and to end the day, survival training, followed by more running.
"Corwen!" Yelled Almas, "What exactly do you think you're doing, cadet?"
Daydreaming of the day you choke on a sack of assorted sea creatures and die with a saberfish impaled in your throat.
"Preparing to move out, sir!"
"And what in the heavens' name are you wearing?"
A size DD training bra and a knife sheathed below my taint waiting for the day I tea-bag your face and stab you in the nose.
"My sleeping garments, sir!"
"And what time is it now, cadet?"
Time for you to die with a whole tribe of rim world scum up your ass while I cackle shamelessly, dancing on your mother's grave while flailing my arms in wild circles, hitting anyone and anything in my way.
"Five minutes after dawn, sir!"
"Three minutes after dawn is allowed for preparing to move out. Five minutes after dawn is allowed for preparing yourself to move out, that means, changing into your scouting gear, cadet."
"Yes sir. It won't happen again, sir!" Trei said as he briskly saluted.
"Ensure it won't, cadet."
Trei walked away from the old man, plotting his demise as he'd done many times before. In a peer review among his fellow cadets, he was deemed "helpful", "kind", "brooding", and "disturbingly quiet".
The fools.
As Trei walked from the camp to the latrines, he contemplated upon the size that Camp Artem occupies on the planet. During the tour on his first year here, the guide explained it was roughly the size of an Old Earth continent, namely, Europe.
YOU ARE READING
Ghosts of the First Rule
Science FictionThe Milky Way has fallen, left barren from years of warfare and strife. Heroes of the long conflicts had given their lives to saving humanity. In exchange for the continuation of my race, our home was stolen from us. Our origin, our birthright lost...
