The Complete Legacy Trilogy: Star Corps, Battlespace, Star Marines. Ian Douglas

or gum. And you! Yeah, you, maggot! Quit gawking around and hold those eyeballs front and center or I will personally pop them out of your miserable maggot’s skull and eat them for breakfast!”

      John was pretty sure he knew what was coming, courtesy of family stories from his mother about life in the Corps—disorientation, confusion, controlled but deliberate terror, sleep deprivation, all in the name of breaking down civilians and rebuilding them as Marines. Forewarned was forearmed, as far as he was concerned. Whatever they dished out, he could take. He was a Garroway now, in name as well as by birth.

      He did wish Lynnley were here, though. She’d flown out from Tiburón to Charleston, while he’d accompanied his mother north to San Diego first, then caught a sub-O flight out of Salton Spaceport. They’d planned to meet up at the Charleston skyport yesterday, but all incoming female recruits had been rounded up as soon as they arrived and whisked off to some other receiving area. He’d found himself herded on board the ancient magbus with thirty-seven other young men and the taciturn Marine sergeant.

      That sergeant was taciturn no longer. “On behalf of Major General Phillip R. Delflores, commanding officer of this installation, and on behalf of the United States Marine Corps, welcome to Parris Island,” he bellowed, somehow making the ear-ringing yell effortless, somehow doubling the volume of select words for emphasis, as though a bellow was his normal and everyday manner of speech. “I am Staff Sergeant Sewicki, and my assistant here is Sergeant Heller. I will keep this short and simple, so that even brainless civvy maggots like you can understand.

      “This is my island, this is my Marine Corps, and you maggots are my responsibility! Today you are embarking on a twenty-one-week course of Marine Corps recruit training, commonly known as boot camp. You are not at home any longer. You are not at school, you are not in your old neighborhood, you are not back in the world that you once knew. During these next few weeks, you will obey all orders given to you by any Marine. Just so there’s no confusion on this point, you people are not Marines. You are recruits. You must earn the title of U.S. Marine. To do that, you must prove to your officers, your drill instructors, your comrades, and yourselves that you are worthy of the uniform and the title of a United States Marine! Do you recruits understand me?”

      The question was greeted by a mumbled chorus of “Yes,” and “Yes, sir,” and even the occasional “Sure.”

      Sewicki exploded. “When you open your maggot mouths, the very first word you utter will be the word sir! The very last word your maggot mouths utter will be the word sir! … Do you understand me?”

      “Sir, yes, sir!” was the response, somewhat ragged and quavering.

      “No! No! No!” Sewicki’s eyes bulged, his face reddened, and for an instant John wondered if the man was going to have a stroke. “What do you people think this is, the goddamn Army? When I ask if you understand me, when I give you an order, the correct and proper response is, ‘Sir, aye aye, sir!’ Do you understand me?”

      “Sir, aye aye, sir!”

      “‘Aye, aye’ means ‘I understand and I will obey!’ Do you understand me?”

      “Sir, aye aye, sir!”

      “What? I can’t hear you!”

      “Sir, aye aye, sir!”

      “Again! Louder!”

      “Sir, aye aye, sir!”

      He cupped a hand to his ear. “What?”

       “Sir, aye aye, sir!”

      “You!” He spun suddenly, face and forefinger inches from the face of a terrified recruit three men to John’s right. “What is your name?”

      “Sir! H-Hollingwood, sir!”

      “Hollywood! What kind of a name is that?”

      “Sir—”

      “Let me see your war face!”

      “S-Sir! Aye … what?”

      “Let me see your goddamn war face! Do you know how to make a war face? This is a war face! Arrrr! Now you do it!”

      With his eyes rigidly front, John could only imagine what was going on, but he heard the recruit give a terrified yelp.

      “That is pathetic! You do not frighten me, Hollywood! Hit the deck! Ten push-ups!”

      The recruit dropped.

      “On your goddamn feet, Hollywood! What did I just tell you?”

      “Sir, I—”

      “When I give you an order, you will respond with ‘Sir, aye aye, sir!’ Do you understand me?”

      “Sir, aye aye, sir!”

      “What was that? I can’t hear you!”

       “Sir, aye aye, sir!”

      “Now hit the deck and give me twenty push-ups!”

       “Sir, aye aye, sir!”

      As the recruit began grunting through his push-ups, attended closely by the other sergeant who was shouting out the cadence, Sewicki continued his prowl in front down the ranks.

      “I am an easy man to get along with. All you need to do to get along with me is to obey my commands instantly, without hesitation, without argument, do you understand me?”

      “Sir, aye aye, sir!” the ranks chorused.

      “You!” Sewicki moved so fast he appeared to dematerialize, rematerializing in front of a recruit in the front rank four to John’s left, face glowering, finger pointing. “What’s your name?”

      “Sir! Garvey! Sir!”

      “Gravy, is that gum you have in your mouth?”

      “Uh, sir, I mean, it’s—”

       “Is that or is that not gum you have in your maggot mouth?”

      “It’s—It’s counterhum, sir.”

      “Remove it.”

      Garvey spat the offending wad into his hand.

      “Place it on your nose.”

      “S-Sir …?”

      “On your nose, recruit.”

      “Sir! Aye aye, sir!”

      “And it had better stay there until I tell you to get rid of it!” He spun, addressing them all. “As for the rest of you, we are going to march—or perform the best simulation of a march that you yahoos are capable of performing—into that building behind you, and there you will deposit in a bin that we will provide any and all contraband you may have on your persons, including guns, knives, weapons of any kind, cigs, lighters, candy, food, soda, liquids of any type, gum, stims, all drugs including analgesics, mem boosters, and sleepers, nano dispensers of any kind including hummers and joggers, game players, personal communications and recording devices, personal entertainment systems, neural plug-ins, pornographic material of all types—including naked holopics of your girlfriends, boyfriends, and/or parents—do you understand me?”

      “Sir! Aye aye, sir!”

      “I don’t care what you used, smoked, tapped, smacked, licked, drank, charged, plugged, or popped back in the World. You people with electronic enhancements will be losing them tomorrow. While you are in my Corps and on my island, you will be clean.”

      John blinked. He couldn’t mean all electronics, could he?