Galactic Axia Adventure 1: Escape to Destiny (21 page)

The spotlight on Major Hassel dimmed and the light on the Axia flag brightened. With the others, Delmar raised his right hand and together they repeated the oath of trooper trainees. As soon as they were finished, Major Hassel turned toward the flag and rendered the Axia salute as the anthem played, his right arm across his chest, palm down.

Delmar and the rest of the trainees could not salute at this time. Saluting is an earned privilege of every trooper or Lady of the Fleet. He could hear people in the gallery rising, and he could see several, including Agnes and the Senders, salute the flag. They all held this position until the last notes of the anthem faded away.

When the music faded away, Major Hassel turned again toward the trainees and addressed them.

“You are now officially trooper trainees,” he said. “I now release you to visit with your families and sponsors. You will reform ranks in ten minutes with your personal luggage and will be under direction of the trooper-third.”

Major Hassel surveyed them one more time. “Dismissed.”

The ranks of trainees dispersed and searched the gallery for their families, or stayed on the floor to say their goodbyes. Agnes and the Senders surrounded Delmar. When he pulled back from hugging Agnes, he opened his eyes and found himself staring into the face of Major Robert Hassel.

Robert clasped his hand and Delmar finally found his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were an active trooper?” he asked. “And when did you get out of the hospital?”

“I’ll answer your questions one at a time,” Major Hassel replied with a smile. “Any retired trooper is forever on inactive status as a reservist. You saw Jake resume his rank and status to help in the court proceedings. I asked to be reactivated for today so I might give you the best send-off I could.”

“And the hospital?”

“I was released this morning to go home and finish recuperation under the command of Agnes.”

 Delmar was still a little dumbfounded at the surprise of seeing Mr. Hassel in uniform.

“Before you go, I want you to take this,” Mr. Hassel said as he offered Delmar the familiar old pocket watch.

“I was afraid to take it for fear of it being stolen or damaged,” Delmar said.

“That’s understandable,” Agnes replied for the two of them. “However, it’s safe to take with you.

“You’ll have the opportunity at induction to have your valuables secured by your drill instructor. Turn it in then and no harm will come to it.”

“We’d better let this young man go,” said Jake, looking at his watch. The trainees were already reforming their ranks on the familiar blue line. Hugging all of them again, Delmar rejoined his group. The trooper-third called them to attention and marched them out through the exit and into the waiting transportation behind the building.

Later that evening, the two couples gathered around the table at the Hassel farm.

“Boy, it sure feels good to be home,” Robert said with a sigh. “I was getting tired of that hospital food.”

“I thought you came home to get away from Bulldozer Betty,” Agnes remarked with a grin. “I heard from the nurses that you were rather reluctant to go to therapy.”

“You know why they make hospital food so bad, don’t you?” asked Sherry. “It’s their way of encouraging the patients to hurry up and get better and leave.”

“Well, I heard about Bulldozer Betty from the girls, and I’m sure glad I didn’t have her for basic,” Jake commented.

“I don’t think you had to worry about that,” his wife said. “You wouldn’t have met the physical qualifications to be a Lady of the Fleet.”

Agnes laughed at Sherry’s joke. Robert wisely kept his mouth shut.

∞∞∞

The next morning the Hassels and Senders sat at the breakfast table drinking coffee. “I wonder how our boy is doing?” Robert asked.

“He’s in good hands,” Jake said. “I found out he’s going to the Freewater Training Center.”

“Then he won’t have far to go,” Sherry said.

“Still, leaving one’s home planet always makes the journey seem longer,” Agnes added.

“If I read the schedule right, he should be arriving there about nightfall three days from now,” Jake said.

“Arriving at night always makes it more interesting,” Robert said. “I arrived at night, and seeing my drill instructor for the first time on a dimly lit drill pad certainly added to the fear.”

“You were afraid?” Sherry asked.

“You bet I was,” Robert answered. “I came from a pretty sheltered existence, and the shock was pretty hard. I’d heard that drill instructors were special Red-tail agents, and seeing mine that night seemed to confirm it.”

The conversation lapsed while they contemplated their own experiences. Agnes finally broke the silence.

“So, how much longer can you folks stay?”

“If you’ll have us, we’re going to wait until Robert is up and around,” Jake answered.

“Hey!” said Robert indignantly. “I can get around fine now.”

“Sure you can,” Jake said. “Shall I tell the girls what happened when you tried to swing down that bale of hay last evening?”

“Just because my leg is a little stiff…”

“We’ll be glad to have you stay for as long as you like,” Agnes said.

“Won’t staying cause problems for your congregation?” Robert asked in an effort to direct the conversation away from himself.

“Sure it will. And that’s exactly what my assistant needs.” Sherry stifled a laugh at the thought.

“He needs a challenge to strengthen him. When the pastor is gone, trouble comes out of the woodwork. I’m not too worried.”

“Then it’s settled,” Agnes said. “I wasn’t quite ready to let Sherry go home yet anyway.”

∞∞∞

The thought that he had dropped into a different universe crossed Delmar’s mind. After leaving the enlistment center, a transport bus delivered the new recruits directly to the space field where they were loaded onto an Axia transport ship and blasted into space.

The trooper-third remained with them and was already disabusing them of the notion that this was a pleasure flight. He ordered them to stow their bags in a set of lockers, and before the ship broke orbit, they were getting their first lesson on the intricacies of a mop and pail. Delmar was glad for his “training” aboard the
Malibu
and realized that Cargo Master Preston had certainly been a trooper at one time. The mopping technique that the trooper-third showed them and Preston’s were identical.

The hours passed and Delmar was surprised when the trooper-third called them to stow their equipment and form ranks. After everyone was in line, he marched them to the lower mess for a hasty midday meal. The food was better than on the freighter but they had less time in which to enjoy it. “Eat now and taste it later,” the trooper-third ordered.

After the meal, the trooper-third detailed three of the trainees to assist in cleaning the mess and two more to help with the dishes. Delmar and the rest returned to the equipment lockers and retrieved their mops and pails. While he mopped some obscure compartment, he realized that the tile matched some of those on the
Malibu
. Thoughts of writing a definitive study on floor tile throughout Galactic Axia helped him pass the time while handling the business end of his mop.

Three days later the trooper-third again had them stow their gear and assemble in their original compartment. Reclaiming their bags, they formed ranks on the ever-present blue lines. The ship jolted and creaked as the drive disengaged and settled onto its landing skids. The trooper-third led the trainees up the corridor and out through the hatch into the misty night air.

Delmar caught a brief glimpse of a lighted landing area beneath a cloudy night sky. Following the trooper-third, the nervous trainees found themselves in a large auditorium filled to capacity with other recruits. A short and overly detailed info-vid played on a large screen, a film that outlined their new lives. It quickly dispelled any myths about basic being a glorified summer camp.

As soon as the video ended, the lights came up and a trooper-second appeared in front of the screen. “Atteeen-hutt!” his voice boomed. The trainees leapt to their feet.

A lieutenant strode up the center aisle and stepped onto the platform. “At ease,” he said with a quiet but firm voice. “Welcome to Freewater Training Center. As of this moment, the outside world for you has ceased to exist, and this facility is your entire universe. You are here for twenty weeks of intensive training. We hope to turn you into troopers. As you may have gathered from the film, we go to great lengths to assure success in this effort.” The lieutenant gazed around the room, taking stock of row after row of trainees.

“Contrary to what you may later believe, we are not out to kill you. We consider you an investment and will help you bring out the very best in yourselves. We do not produce mindless followers, but men and women able to think for themselves and as a team.”

The lieutenant paused for a moment. A half dozen troopers came in and stood evenly spaced in front of the platform. Delmar noticed that each held a placard with a number on it. The several hundred trainees eyed the troopers and shifted nervously.

“In a moment your names will be read off as we divide you into flights of sixty people,” the lieutenant continued. “Answer loud and clear. As you hear your name, you will assemble yourselves into ranks with your toes on the blue line in front of the designated trooper. They will take you to your assigned barracks where you will meet your drill instructors.”

The lieutenant stepped back and a trooper-second stepped forward with a clipboard. In a surprisingly clear voice, he called out names in rapid fire. Trainees hurried forward among calls of “yes-sirs” and “presents”, and formed ranks in front of the first trooper as he held up his placard. The process was repeated three more times before Delmar’s name was called and he rushed to line up with the others in front of the trooper holding the placard reading
Squadron 3703, Flight 775.

Finally, with all of the groups formed, the lieutenant again came forward. “Trainees,” he said, “I wish you good success in your training.” He paused as he again scanned the young faces around him. “Dismissed!” he said sharply, and the groups were led out the exits toward their new homes. As the lieutenant watched their ragged attempts at marching, he mused at how soon that would be corrected.

Approaching the two-story barracks, Delmar’s heart was in his throat. He’d heard stories about drill instructors and was not looking forward to meeting his. The trooper led them into the building and formed them into ranks in an open area of the lower bay. Because of the late hour, the lights remained dim in deference to the sleeping trainees in neighboring barracks.

After standing at silent attention for an eternity, a large trooper-first appeared in the clearing. He eyed the tired young men through smoked-lens glasses. By his round-billed hat, a universal symbol of his position, Delmar knew this was the dreaded drill instructor.

The inspection continued for another three minutes before the drill instructor spoke. “Welcome to your new home,” he began in a quiet, yet powerful voice. “I am your senior drill instructor, Trooper-First W. Buckner. You will address me as D.I. Buckner, and you will address me and all other troopers as sir. I am now the center of your existence. Your lives will be much easier if you remember that. I expect your ears to be open and your mouths shut.”

Nodding to his assistant, a trooper-second started passing out postcards and pens. “You are to address the front of these postcards with your home address,” Buckner said. “You will write that you arrived safely and then sign your full name prefixed by the initials T.T. This stands for Trooper Trainee, a designation you will be addressed by and will address yourself as while you are at Freewater. You will then copy down the unit and flight number you see on the sign behind me.” D.I. Buckner pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, never actually turning around to look at the sign.

“You will have access to starmail while you are on Freewater,” Buckner continued. “Your Galactic Starmail address will be the first letter of your first name and the first five letters of your last name, followed by a forward sign, the letters GSS, which stand for Galactic Starmail Service, followed by a dot, then your unit number, dot, your flight number, dot, and finally FWTB, which stands for Freewater Training Base. You will see a sample of a valid starmail address on the sign. When you are finished, my assistant drill instructor will collect these cards and they will be mailed to your families.”

A trainee sitting near the front of the group raised his hand. “What is it, trainee?” Buckner asked.

“Sir, most of us have starmail addresses at home,” the trainee answered. “Why can’t we just starmail this information home and save the trouble of regular mail?”

“Because you’re men now, that’s why,” Buckner answered, “not schoolboys away on a weekend camping trip. Your momma and daddy can’t come bail you out now, so shut up, and fill out the card!”

 The trainees complied with the instructions after which another trooper collected the cards and pens. “My assistant is Trooper-Second H. Stoddard. You will address him as D.I.A. Stoddard. You will accord him the same respect and obedience that you show to me. He will now assign you to your bunks. Welcome to the 3703 Training Squadron, Flight 775. Hit the rack and get some sleep. Tomorrow starts early.”

With that, Buckner left the room and Stoddard began assigning the bunks in both starboard and port bays. Delmar’s bunk at the left-hand end of the starboard bay was a welcome sight indeed. The trainees stripped to their skivvies and crawled under the sheets. When the lights finally faded, the sixty young men tried to convince their tired, scared bodies to go to sleep.

Chapter Sixteen

The aroma of breakfast drifted up into the dorm from the kitchen somewhere below. Sniffing the smell of bacon and eggs, the boy rolled over and opened his eyes. A large dog bound into the room and stuck its face squarely into Delmar’s. Opening its mouth, the dog barked, “Alright! Get up! Get out of bed! Hit the deck!”