(3rd Pov)
*zzzt!*
"Ack!" Lasky jolted awake as the shock from a cattle prod passed through the fibers of his armor.
"Get up, cadet Lasky, regroup with your team. General Black wants a word with all of you," the instructor who woke him scowled, looking down at him before moving along.
Thomas sighed, pushing himself upright. He closed his eyes as he took a moment to pop his neck. He let out another long sigh before pulling himself up to his feet. He bent down, collecting his rifle lethargically, and began walking to his team.
A few minutes later, he, along with the rest of his teammates, was standing side-by-side facing an older man with graying brown hair wearing a black officer's uniform. His collar had golden blocks indicating his rank, but had no other distinguishing medals, as the man saw no vain glory in them. His face stretched in the typical no-nonsense demeanor he held at nearly all times of the day.
"That's the third failure of your entrustees, upperclassman Orenski," he said with a stern voice to the woman who stood at attention in front of her juniors.
"It's my fault, sir!" she shouted aloud, as was the rule since day one of the academy, and though she said the words, her eyes settled on Lasky standing in line. She sent a frosty glare his way, but he seemed not to react, maintaining the same bored expression.
This didn't go unnoticed by the general but he did not comment on it, "Can someone remind me what the motto is for this academic institution?" he asked, now standing beside Orenski, looking at the members of Hastati.
"Anaxios! Sir!" Cadet Chyler Silva shouted this time, answering.
"Seems someone has paid attention to the plaques," he said, unimpressed by the answer, "But can someone besides cadet Orenski tell me what anaxios means?" he asked, now beginning to pace up and down the line slowly with his hands behind his back.
'It means 'I am unworthy,',' Lasky thought to himself before snorting internally, 'He's just going to lecture us on humility again,'
"No one?" he said, keeping his eyes on Lasky.
He got no response from the group of trainees.
And for the first time in the conversation a sigh escaped his lips, the first indication that the calm man in front of all of them was frustrated, "Strange, I could have sworn that the application of one of you cadet's mentioned that you were fluent in five languages, greek being one of them," he said before marching over standing in front of Lasky and peering down at him, "Or was I misreading that cadet Lasky?" he asked his tone now evident that he was through playing games.
Besides the pair, the team and upperclassmen knew what was about to happen. Orenski, Vickers, and Dimah all had expressions of anger with a mixed depiction of gritted teeth and looks that could kill. While Sullivan just closed his eyes and rocked his head back with a face that said 'Fuck'. Meanwhile, Silva didn't have much of a change in expression but just kept her eyes forward.
Lasky sighed, "No, sir. It just…slipped my mind… sir." It was a flimsy excuse, and everyone knew it, especially General Black.
"A sudden case of amnesia, huh?" he said to no one in particular, walking back to his previous spot in front of the team.
"It seems we must help cadet Lasky remember, but I am not one for individual punishment. Seeing as wars and battles are team-based, the rest of you will be joining. Because we can never blame the failure of an entire team on the actions of a single individual, especially when that individual is not the leader," he said, preparing to deliver his sentencing.
"When I say go, you all will have two minutes to run back to the armory and turn in your weapons. For every second you are late, the more I will add to your punishment. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Instructor!" each member shouted.
"Then go," he said calmly as he watched each and every cadet sprint up a small embankment to an academy building. He reached into one of the pockets of his uniform and pulled out an old silver watch attached to a chain, an heirloom from his ancestors who served in the First Great War of the 20th century.
Time passed, and the cadets returned still in uniform, still wearing their armor, but no longer with their MA5Cs.
"2 minutes on the dot. Not half bad," he said before returning his watch to its place.
He crossed his arms as he turned to face the group, who were now pouring sweat and trying to catch their breath, "Catch your breath. You'll need it," he sai,d patiently waiting.
When they'd finally regained some composure, he spoke again, "Now, I think some attitudes need to be tweaked, and so there is no greater attitude adjuster than Ol' Misery."
There was a collective release of sighs at that, and why wouldn't there be? Ol' Misery was a thing of legend at the academy, stories of it being passed down from senior to junior to freshman. Some say it was a material left over from the construction of the academy, others say it just appeared one day, washing ashore from the main lake of the academy.
But what everyone agreed on was that no one wanted to be in Misery's company.
"It's about lunch time, so you six will do the 1.5-mile march to it with her. I will be watching from behind, and I suggest that everyone give 100% effort," he warned before dismissing them to get Ol' Misery.
The group walked over to the spot where Ol' Misery lay none spoke, but it was clear, no one was a fan of Lasky in the moment.
All of them got into position around Ol' Misery. You see, military instructors don't need much equipment to make a cadet's life miserable. All they needed was a bit of spite and a lot of imagination, and Ol' Misery was one of such examples.
Ol' Misery was a 450-pound old oak log. Its trunk was larger than a man's torso, and so wide that no one could wrap their arms around it. It reeked of preservatives as it had been an effective tool since the academy had opened, and would be useful long after this batch of instructors retired.
The newest victims, Hastati squad lifted it up with much strain and raised it on their shoulders. April Orenski was shouting directions from the front, and soon enough, they were off, beginning to walk down the path to the chow hall. With Ol'Misery at extended arm above their head.
…
..
.
After the fun in the sun, the cadets ate lunch before returning to their barracks. It was different compared to what one would have expected for soldier accommodations. Each cadet had their own dorm room where they slept with a terminal computer in the back center wall with a display screen the size of a TV. The beds were small, barely wide enough to allow one person to sleep on, but it was better than sleeping in a room filled with bunks and other sweaty recruits.
Each of these dorms was strung together with its adjacent walls shared. They were remarkably small size-wise, where if an average recruit laid down in the floor and put their arms above their head, they'd hit the opposite wall with their arms whilst their feet would touch the other.
Besides the dorms, each team's barracks had a small general area for meetings that was surrounded by lockers for equipment. Attached to this larger room were a set of showers and toilets for team use.
As of now, all team members were in their respective dorms, doing class work and recreational tasks. In one of the many dorm rooms, Thomas Lasky sat in his seat before the computer, twirling the brass casing of a 7.62 round in his fingers as he thought. His eyes focused on the screen where a recording played.
"Hey, little bro, it's Cad again. Just finished Basic Orbital Insertion Shock training (B.O.I.S) and let me tell you… It was fucking awful." On the screen, a young man about five years older than Lasky, who was just 18. He wore a black t-shirt with big white blocky letters on the center spelling: O.D.S.T., and below it a flaming skull that sat with the outline of a drop pod behind it.
Lasky's face didn't change as he sternly watched it, "Somehow I made it through, I gotta thank Danny for that. Without him… I probably would have bitched out and withdrawn," the man, Lasky's elder brother, ran a hand through his tight and short haircut while smiling as he reminisced.
But suddenly he snapped his fingers from within the screen, "Hold on, before I forget-I saw what you did there last letter. Forcing me to choose between sacking my rook and knight or giving up my queen. Not bad, young blood. Seems my tactical brilliance has finally rubbed off on you," he said, placing a hand on his chest before wiping away a fake tear, "They grow up so fast, I gotta tell mom,"
Lasky's face flinched at the thought of his mother, but nevertheless continued watching, his eyes seemed strained as they stared at the recording. As if watching it was only causing him small pricks of pain.
"Anyway," the man, Cadmon Lasky, threw up his hands as if to wipe away what he was speaking about, "Try this one on, Queen to E-8. Yeah, you know what that means, that black rook of yours goes bye-bye and I believe that puts your king in check," he said with a playfully mocking tone waving as he said the words 'bye-bye'.
Lasky put the 7.62 round on a makeshift chessboard that lay beside him. It was covered with various other caliber casings, stand-ins for real chess pieces, with a few on the side indicating they had been defeated. He set the 7.62 (Queen) piece on the row closest to him and took the .50 AE (Rook) and set it to the side.
"Now, while you're wracking your brain trying to understand how I could have such a brilliant play. I do have to tell you it will be a bit of time before I can send you another message," His brother's voice changed from the playful tone to the speech of a dutiful soldier, "I'll be having my first drop in about a week over Jericho VII, apparently some wombat's spotted innies making a little outpost in the mountains. So I'll have my hands full for a little bit, I'll be sure to send home a souvenir if I get a chance,"
His voice softened for a moment, "I heard you got into Corbulo, nice job. Though I am not surprised, you've always been squared away. Listen, I know you aren't the physical boots on the ground infantry type, but if by the time you are ready to graduate and you don't want to get stuck aboard a stuffy frigate. Then I talked to my CO I may have talked you up a bit, but he said that he would gladly welcome you into the 10th. Think about it, but until then stay locked in and I'll see ya next time,"
A knock came at his door, and he scrambled to clear the recording from the screen as it sat silently back on a Corbulo academy screen saver with the academy's logo.
"Come in," he said just loud enough for whoever was on the other side.
The door slid open, each half pealing into its respective side walls, revealing cadet Chyler Silva. She naturally walked into the dorm before plopping herself down on his bed, "Vicker's is still pissed, I'd stay away from him. He's looking for a fight now," she said, casually giving him a warning.
"Hm," was Lasky's response as he turned to begin putting away the chessboard. Taking off the makeshift pieces, he wasn't afraid of forgetting their places; he'd played the game tens of times in the past two months.
Silva tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "So when are we getting our real leader back? 'Cause I am getting tired of Vickers throwing stuff at walls hoping it sticks," she said, trying to get a response.
Lasky paused, his eyes settling on a picture frame placed on a nightstand beside his bed. In it were three people: a younger 12-year-old version of himself, an 18-year-old version of his brother wearing a graduation gown, and a woman, his mother. She was in between the two, holding each one with a hand around their shoulders, just barely as tall as Thomas and already shorter than Cadmon. Each of them had a smile on their face as they looked at the camera. The scene behind them was happy; it was bright, and the grass was green and full of life.
It was the last picture the three of them took together, Cadmon's graduation.
Lasky's eyes flickered away, "No…I…I just want to get through this," he didn't feel like talking, but didn't want to kick out Chyler. So without saying anything, he grabbed his jacket and headed out of his room.
Chyler sat there watching him before he disappeared into the corridor. She pursed her lips before sighing, "What made you change?" she asked herself, quietly giving the hallway one last longing glance before getting up and making her way to her own room.
As she passed the other rooms, she didn't notice that someone was watching her as she entered the hallway. The moment her shadow receded into her dorm, a head peeked out into the hall: Michael Sullivan. He glanced around, noting that everyone's door was closed, and paused, waiting to see if he heard any footsteps, before shutting his door and turning back to his terminal.
He rubbed his hands together with a smile, "Let's see what we got today," he booted his terminal, and with another glance over his shoulder to double check, he opened a hidden software terminal he had added to his computer. A couple of taps on his keyboard and he had activated his shortcut into Maria Tchakova's (Dimah's mother and secretary of UNSC Fleet Command) local system.
As the terminal loaded, Sullivan locked his hands together, "I'm sorry, Dimah, but this was way too easy," he said, apologizing in spirit.
With an excited smirk, he began to cruise through files, only finding familiar files he'd already looked through. That was until he found one file.
S-117 on Alpha Corvi II
Michael's expression morphed as his face turned both curious and slightly confused, "Alpha Corvi's supposed to be suffering a system-wide blackout," he mumbled to himself before sighing and clicking the file. "Surprise, surprise, they are lying again," he said as the icons of multiple videos with different time stamps appeared.
He prepared to download all of them to his own file hidden in his system when a string of text turned alarms on in his head.
Administrator: Online
"Shit, Maria, you sweet, beautiful woman, why now of all times!?" he scrambled to start backing out of his little insertion.
But hesitated copying a random file quickly before pulling out.
He let out a deep breath, wiping sweat from his brow before sitting back up in his chair. He clicked on the recording, "Let's see what's going on with Alpha Corvi," he said with a smirk of accomplishment as he clicked play on the recording.
==================================================================
Late chapter, sorry was busy thinking about whether to do a PHD or Masters.
But yeah I really would like some of your own thoughts about the arc as we go along. Right now I am building up Lasky's perspective.
Drop any questions and leave comments with your thoughts.
See ya.