Part 1 (2/2)
”To being stupid,” answered Williams, holding up his own cup.
Five hours later, Sheridan and his friends, now dressed in their Marine Corps dress blues, stood on parade. The graduating cla.s.s of nearly one thousand new Marine officers stood at ease and listened while the commanding officer of the Marine Ground Warfare Battle School congratulated them on completing the grueling three-month course in the deserts of Nevada. All Marine officers regardless of their future specialty had to attend the training. Infantry officers rubbed shoulders with pilots, logistical officers, and even padres. As their instructors kept pointing out, the job may be in outer s.p.a.ce, but the battles were still won on the ground and that was why the Battle School was the final part of their combined arms training.
Proudly, Sheridan ran his hand over his new gold bar on his jacket collar. He had worked hard to earn his commission, finis.h.i.+ng in the top ten of his cla.s.s at the academy as well as the Battle School. He already had his eye on an a.s.signment with an infantry regiment in the elite First Division. Every Commandant of the Corps in the last century had served in the First Division, but only the best and brightest were chosen to be part of the finest fighting formation in the fleet. He was sure that after the parade wrapped up and the duty a.s.signments were given out that his name would be found beside one of the three infantry regiments that were part of the First Division.
After yet another long and boring speech that Sheridan tried his best to ignore, the graduating cla.s.s was called to attention. The Commandant of the Marine Corps stepped up behind the podium and eyed the sea of officers before him.
”Good morning, Marines,” said General Steinmetz, his voice deep and gravely.
”Good morning, sir!” loudly replied a thousand voices.
”Normally, at this time I would welcome you all into the Corps and wish you well with your chosen careers. However, events have transpired along the Disputed Zone, which has changed everything.”
A loud murmur ran through the crowd of spectators watching the parade.
Steinmetz continued, ”Three days ago at precisely 0745 hours, installations and s.h.i.+ps all along the Disputed Zone were attacked. The exact scope of the losses suffered has yet to be determined. However, initial indications are that we suffered heavy losses during this unprovoked and cowardly sneak attack. The Federation Council met in London this morning and authorized the mobilization of the fleet to safeguard the colonies. Marines, we are once again at war with the Kurgan Empire.”
Some people in the crowd began to cry, afraid for their loved ones already serving along the Disputed Zone. The Marines on the parade stood silent, expectantly waiting to hear what was going to happen next.
Steinmetz took a sip of water and then spoke. ”Marines, effective immediately, all post-course leave is canceled. You will all be s.h.i.+pping out today. I will grant you have one hour to say goodbye to your friends and family who came to see you here today. After that, you are to a.s.semble in the main hangar where you will find your duty a.s.signments already posted.”
With that, the ceremony ended. Anxious family members flooded onto the parade grounds hoping to see their loved ones before they departed.
Sheridan stood there, not sure, how he should feel. One the one hand he knew that this was what he had enlisted for; on the other, he struggled to believe that after a century of relative peace, they were at war. He turned on his heels and tried to see his mother through the swirling crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Tarina Pheto looking down at her feet. With a smile on his lips, Sheridan worked his way through the crowd. ”Hey, there why the long face?”
Tarina turned and looked up at Sheridan. ”My parents couldn't afford to make it here today. I was hoping to spend a few weeks with them before attending advanced flight training. Looks like I won't get that chance now.” Tarina Pheto was from Soweto. A slender young woman with dark skin and a baldhead, she and Sheridan had had an on-again off-again relations.h.i.+p for the past three years. At the moment, they were apart.
”Well, my mother is here somewhere, why don't you come with me and spend some time with her?”
Tarina's expression instantly soured. ”Michael, she's the reason that we are not together.”
Sheridan hated to admit it, but she was right. ”I know my mother can be a bit old-fas.h.i.+oned at times.”
Tarina shook her head. ”Michael, you need to open your eyes. She's not old-fas.h.i.+oned as you keep saying, she's a racist. If I were white, things would be different, but I'm not. And you know it.”
Sheridan reached over and took her right hand in his. ”Tarina, you know I don't care about your skin color.”
”I know you don't, but I will never be part of your life if your mother has anything to say about it and until you stand up to her, we can never be together.” Tarina fought back the mix of feelings raging in her heart. She let go of Sheridan's hand and melted into the crowd.
”Michael...Michael!” called out a woman's voice.
Sheridan turned to see his mother, escorted by a Marine colonel, making her way towards him.
”Was that Miss Pheto?” asked Sheridan's mother.
”Yes,” replied Sheridan bitterly.
”I thought you two weren't together anymore.”
”We're not.”
”Well, it's for the better with all that's happening along the Disputed Zone.”
Sheridan ground his teeth. He wanted to lash out at his mother and tell her to go to h.e.l.l, but his strict upbringing and the colonel standing a few meters away prevented him from showing his true feelings.
”Have you heard from Father?” Sheridan asked, steering the conversation away from Tarina.
”Yes, I have great news. He's been promoted to Vice-Admiral and given command of the newly formed Sixth Fleet. If anyone can give the Kurgan Empire a good swift kick in the behind, it's your father.”
Sheridan forced a smile. ”Mother, I doubt I'll get a chance to speak to him before I s.h.i.+p out, so could you please pa.s.s on my congratulations.”
”You can pa.s.s them on yourself. I bet you'll be serving under command before too long.”
Sheridan cringed at the thought. The First Division was a.s.signed to the First Fleet and he wanted to serve there and nowhere else. ”Well, I find out soon enough.”
For the next thirty minutes, Sheridan made small talk with his mother while several admirals and generals, all of whom knew Sheridan's father, feted her. If there was one thing he had to give his mother credit for, it was her ability to schmooze with party guests. He soon grew bored, gave his mother a hug and joined the stream of young officers making their way towards the main hangar.
Harry Williams ran over and enthusiastically slapped Sheridan on the back. Together they walked in silence. Sheridan could feel the tension building in his chest. Four years of school, all came down to this event. Where you went after Battle School determined your future.
Inside the hangar, the air was electric. On the far wall were several screens broken down alphabetically. Sheridan and Williams ran towards the monitor with their names on it. Together they elbowed their way to the front and searched for their duty a.s.signments.
Williams let out a loud whoop. ”Second Regiment, First Division.”
Sheridan found his name; it was listed beside the Third Regiment, Nineteenth Division. Feeling as if he had just been punched in the gut, he stepped back and dug out his phone. With a growing sense of panic, he looked up the Nineteenth Division and where its regiments were stationed. His eyes widened when he saw that the division was responsible for a sector of the Disputed Zone. It had to be a clerical error, flashed through Sheridan's mind. He had come near the top of all of his cla.s.ses. Only the best officers went to the First Division and not to some unheard of unit in an out of the way corner of the galaxy.
Sheridan's instructor at the Battle School walked past. ”Sir, sir!” Sheridan called out trying to get the major's attention.
”Yes, Mister Sheridan,” said Major Jowett, a short, balding man with a crooked nose on his weathered face.
Sheridan came sharply to attention and saluted Jowett. ”Sir, I think there's been a mistake with my duty a.s.signment.”
”Oh, why is that?”
”Sir, I'm posted to the Nineteenth, not the First Division,” explained Sheridan.
”It's a good division with a fine reputation. It's on the front line so you'll be in action long before many of your friends.”
Sheridan didn't give a d.a.m.n about the division's reputation or where it was located. He blurted out, ”Sir, I'd expected to go to the First.”
Jowett looked into Sheridan's eyes. ”Mister, we go where the Corps wants us to go. We don't always get what we want. Get used to it. Remember, we all serve at the discretion of the Corps.” With that Jowett turned around and walked away, leaving Sheridan wondering what he could do.
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