Chapter I: Beginnings
William Palmer, or Bill as he was known to his friends, lounged in the family sofa, watching reruns of some cheap combat show that featured macho Space Marines against hideous aliens. He was bored, but his little brothers and sisters loved the show.
The
door chime sounded and he as saved from the monotony of watching any more. He walked to the door, expecting to find some solicitor or another preacher telling his family they must make sure their prayers were pure lest their souls be taken by the darkness.
Instead, he opened the door to find a man standing there in an Imperial officer's uniform.
"William Parker?" the man asked.
"Uh, that's me," Bill said. He looked at the guy, wondering what this could be about.
The man reached into a
satchel and retrieved a folded piece of paper, which he handed to Bill. "You're being called into service with the Imperial Guard, Median IV. You will be placed in the Charlie Company, 1st Platoon."
Bill looked down at the paper, then back at the man. He was looking at Bill. The man saluted, then turned and left when Bill returned the salute.
Bill turned around. His father was standing there. He hadn't heard the big man step up behind him.
"Big news?" his father said.
"The biggest," Bill
responded. "I've just been volunteered for the Imperial Guard."
* * *
Bob Oliver threw the ball high, then let out a whoop as it went through the metal hoop he and his friends used for a basket.
Mel Sanders turned and said, "We'll get you back for that, man."
"I'm waiting," Bob said.
The group of boys, sweaty and tired, sat down. They began to talk about the upcoming airball season,
hoping their home team would win the championship this time. The six of them talked for almost
twenty minutes before a camouflaged vehicle pulled up and a man stepped out. The man approached the group.
"Bob Oliver?" Bob nodded and raised his hand. "Mel Sanders?" Mel looked surprised, and raised his hand slowly.
The man handed both boys a slip of paper. "You are bother being called into duty in the Median IV, 1st platoon of Charlie Company."
He saluted the two boys and they saluted back. Then the man departed, leaving the two boys to be congratulated with many backslaps and good-natured jokes from their friends.
Bob stood up and posed as if he was holding a rifle. "Colonel Oliver, single-handedly saving the Imperium from scumbags and aliens! I'm gonna be a star, boys."
Mel stood and looked upward. His feelings were too mixed-up to come across as anything more than a half scowl, half frown on his face.
"What's wrong, Mel?" Bob asked. "We're going to be heroes, man!"
Mel looked over at Bob. "Maybe. And maybe we'll just be another body on a field of corpses."
"Cheer up," Bob said. "You'll be safe with me."
Mel snorted. "Yeah. Safe as an egg sitting on the edge of the ColStar tower."
"C'mon, let's go home and tell our folks the good news."
* * *
Mack Nelson sat at his datacomp,
reading the latest commail joke from his friend Jeff. It was a raunchy joke involving sex, not the kind Mack would care to read about, so he simply deleted it from his commail.
He closed the program just as there was a knock at his door. Cautiously, Mack got up and walked to the door. He took a look through the small
view hole, and saw a man wearing a military uniform standing right outside the door.
He opened the door, and was greeted with a slip of paper.
"Mack Nelson, you're being called into duty with the Median IV, 1st
Battalion, Charlie Company. Congratulations." The man saluted, then turned and walked back to a truck parked out on the street.
Mack closed the door, then looked at the paper. It had instructions for a place to go to for orientation. He had just been drafted into the Imperial Guard.
He walked back over to his datacomp and pulled up the commail program again. This was something he had to share with his friends.
* * *
James, or rather Jim, Young took aim at the target that was a hundred feet from where he was standing. He squeezed the trigger and felt the pistol buck as a sound like thunder split the air. A thump came from the target, then an electronic sign above it announced he had hit the target's mock left lung.
Not bad, he thought.
He walked to the end of the range and handed in the pistol. His father then put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him to the side.
"Son, there's someone here to see you," he said.
Jim followed his father as they exited the range building. A man in uniform stood outside, and stepped forward.
"James Young, this is for you. You are being brought into the Median IV's 1st Battalion, Charlie Company. Please report to the address on the paper for orientation." The man handed a folded piece of paper to Jim, then turned and walked away.
Jim opened it and took a look, his father reading over his shoulder.
When he was through reading, Jim folded the paper back up. His father stepped to the side and smiled at him. "The Imperial Guard! I'm so proud of you, son!"
Jim smiled back, just for show, but inwardly he felt a sudden sense of dread. He didn't know why, but he felt real bad about this.
* * *
Sara Shaffer looked around uneasily as she walked into the Imperial Guard Recruitment Center. This was something she'd decided to do, against the warnings of those around her. She had heard that the Guard was actively pulling in new recruits, but being female she felt she probably would never have been contacted. But to her, it was her duty to sign up, to help the cause of defending the Imperium.
Al around her, men and boys seemed to stop what they were
doing for a moment and stared at this newcomer. A girl amongst the men? It hardly seemed right.
She walked to the recruitment desk and, with a bit of a tremble, said, "Hello?"
The man at the desk looked up, then said, "Looking for someone, ma'am?"
"No," Sara answered. "I'm here to sign up."
The man suddenly looked shocked, then asked, "May I ask for what?"
"The Imperial Guard," she said. "I'm here to join the Guard."
"Eh, look, ma'am, I'm not sure if..."
Sara sighed. "Look, I know this seems strange, but I want to join. I want to do my part for my world."
"Are you sure the medical corps, or the culinary staff, might not be better?"
"Yes," Sara said. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned on the desk. "I want to be in one of the infantry companies, on the front lines. None of this sissy stuff, okay? You don't have to protect me or worry about me getting hurt."
"Okay," the man behind the desk said. "You call. Fill these out." He handed her some forms and a pen.
"Thank you," she said, then looked for a place to sit and fill out the forms.
This wasn't going to be easy, but she'd see it through.
END CHAPTER I
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER II: "INITIATION"
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