Sgt. Ma Space Soldier

Bisudian Dragons stand fifteen feet tall and are particularly mean.  With quick rear legs, they can run down most prey.  They have relatively large mouths, one meter across.  Their teeth are only fourteen centimeters long, however.  They hold their game in their mouths, with these teeth, and then use their 110 centimeters long tongue to ram holes in their victim.  Then they alternately squeeze their victims and drink the blood.

These Dragons can cover half a mile in their dining.  Because of their range habits, the Dragons can return to the kill zone and kill again.

Naturally, this disturbed the Recruitment Personnel’s breakfasts.  They fired through their open portals at this herd, again and again.  Frustration levels were very high, and many were openly weeping since the Dragons did not run away or die.

It took a long time for a single member (healthy soldier) to run a computer check and determine that there were not Bisudian Dragons or Paledian Palms outside.  They were only a moving holograph created by my projector.

One hour later, I came into their encampment again.  Again, I asked to enlist.

“Huh?  What did you say?” the young female soldier Specialist four Thoren asked, at the top of her lungs.

I noted she had hands behind each ear.  “Speak up!  The planet invasion alarm whacked my hearing.”

I increased my volume and asked again to enlist.  Again, she refused.  She emphatically shook her head.

This time, I asked for the C.O.  As their Commanding Officer had been affected by an insect bite and was indisposed, she also denied this request.

I then asked for the standing C.O.  that was his temporary replacement.

With a heavy sigh, Specialist four Thoren said, “Ok.  But it will not help you.  I will summon Ensign Clinton.

When Clinton arrived, he said, “I can give you five minutes.  So, make your case.”

I showed Ensign Clinton my training disk, with all its associated history of my Planet Militia experiences and advances.

He was slightly interested, but his fever kept him from full concentration.

“How did you get contract fever, Sir?”  I asked so innocently.

Ensign Clinton responded with, “An insect bite.  The insects here are vicious.  Saboteurs are attacking our base.  They are systematically ruining our encampment and the health of all base personnel.”

He looked at me, shook his head, and said, “We can’t carry on much longer, and if the C.O.  does not recuperate or they do not stop their attack, it will force us to evac or die.”

“Sir, if you will view subsection 4.1.7. of my training disc, you will notice that I have certification as an educator, in the act of sabotage, and counter-sabotage!”  I said.

He was now looking at me with a side-long glance filled with suspicion.  I had his full interest.

“If I were an enlisted member, I could bring this knowledge to bear and save your personnel from further discomfort.”

The dawn of realization slowly crawled upon his brow as his eyes got wider.

“Whem, 4.1.7., you say?”  Ensign Clinton asked.  “How long have you been trying to enlist?”  the good Ensign asked, politely.

I hung my head and shook it at the ground, “Mournfully, I must admit to several days of enlistment attempts.”

I snapped my head up and put my hands out in a defensive posture.  “Nothing against your personnel.  Everyone was just doing their respective jobs.  I am sure that there was nothing personal in the way they performed those jobs, refusing my enlistment.”

I noticed that his left leg was twitching, and the hand on that side as well.  Another insect might have just bitten him.

“Based on what you know now, can you guarantee that you can make the sabotage cease?”  The good Ensign asked.

I proudly said, “I am prepared to guarantee that nothing will happen from the time I enlist!”

Ensign Clinton swung around and ran up to the female soldier that had previously denied my request.

“Spec four Thoren, get her all necessary paperwork to sign and do it A.S.A.P.  I want her measured, suited, and billeted before nightfall!  I want to see her Basic Training schedule on my desk in forty-five minutes.  I want her shipped out of here on the very first transport we can find. Now!  I mean now!”  the Ensign said while Spec Thoren had one hand behind each ear.  She caught enough of his words to think of a sarcastic response, but she held it.

He started to walk away, but the twitching made him stop. He turned, looked directly into my eyes, and said,

“I will make sure she gets treated with respect. Her training has earned her more than the typical recruit.  I will make her a First Sergeant to ensure that we will not have any more saboteurs in our midst.  I will make it a field promotion based on her vast previous experience and training record!”

“But, Ensign Sir, regulations prohibit such a field promotion.  She is not even Regular Army.  She is just Planet Militia!” Thoren said.

I was getting irritated again.  I looked around at the base, and my eyes quickly ran to the bathroom facilities erected on the planet’s surface.  They were a cream color, with one door for each facility.

In true military fashion, all lay in a perfect line.  I figured that one concussion grenade at just the right location would do the trick!

This action would create one hell of a mess if you could excuse my pun.

Ensign Clinton had watched my eyes and saw where they had settled.

“Spec. Thoren, you know that I am the Standing C.O.  You know that field battle promotions are part of my responsibility for acts of war or siege.  We are in an active siege.  I have given you a direct order!  Make it so!”

At that moment, Ensign Clinton’s nose was a military centimeter from Spec Thoren’s nose while his hand and leg twitched again.

“You will follow my field directive.  You will treat this as a direct order. Or I will put you on duty—Tonight!  You will be Policing the OUTBACK of Nigella four!  I will send you there on an escape pod.  Maybe you will make it, and maybe you won’t.  But, either way, you will make enlistee Ma, Sergeant Ma.”

Specialist Thoren followed orders as she had heard of the challenge of Nigella four.  The reports included a microscopic species that crawled on the ground en masse, in the hundreds of thousands. These critters would surround their prey, taking the tiniest of bites relentlessly until the victim ceased to exist.

Spec Thoren immediately gathered the documents necessary for a field promotion.  She fed them to me to sign as quickly as she could.

It was happening!  I would become UAS.  And a First Sergeant.

I felt so proud of my recent achievements.  I could live my dream and show my gene supplier that I was more than just overly aggressive.

I would even have official papers and a new Sergeant badge to prove it to her the next time I saw her.

I had gained respect unwittingly, as my story spread throughout the UAS.  The legend of me grew as distance and time went on.

From my enlistment forward, wherever I went, the soldiers were nice to me, gave me the best bunk, and usually kept a respectable distance away from me.

In my presence, there were no Aleutinian jokes.

After enlistment, I had two planet falls, in different solar systems, to work difficult circumstances.

I cannot give you the details, but I was assigned to find the bad guys and protect the good ones.

I was lucky in that the soldiers around me provided all of the support anyone could need.

I had excellent superiors in each case that wanted me to succeed.

So, when a ground pounder says, “It’s the system, and you can’t change it!”  Just think of me.

I love the UAS.