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| - Going through the Blast Furnace again seemed to be almost as tough on Laera as it had been that first time, thanks to this damnable planet, and she was the kriffing drill instructor. Still, this was her sixth round of mentoring recruits during the three-day event, which was the culmination of their training, and she seemed to be doing as well as ever. Three years enveloped in the double gravity of Carida had toughened her up considerably, and she could not recall ever having felt better about herself. As her training platoon trotted past in marching formation, she smiled to herself. Tonight, the whole ordeal would be over for them. After a simple ceremony, conducted at dusk and led by Captain Teeklak Sookanado, the Recruit Depot's Rodian commanding officer, the thirty-nine recruits who had made it this far would become Marines in full. Laera was proud of the work she was doing, and of this platoon in particular. Every DI lost about two or three recruits out of each training class; it was unavoidable due to accidents, injuries, and the fact that, simply put, some folks just weren't cut out to join the Corps, no matter how hard they worked or how badly they wanted it. But this time she only had one dropout, and he was going to have the chance to complete the training once his leg finished healing. It had been her best class yet. Two nights previously, as she discussed their training with the members of her platoon, Laera had gotten the impression that the recruits truly respected her and what she had had to teach them. The squad leaders—along with a few other recruits—were shaping up to become fast-trackers for promotion into the non-commissioned officer ranks, while many of the others were set to get into some of the more difficult advanced training courses. Two of them were positively deadly with blaster rifles at just about any range, and she had encouraged them to undertake the path of the scout/sniper, while another three seemed set on joining a Force Recon company. She was proud of each and every one of her recruits, from all six classes; she even received the occasional letter of thanks from those who had come before. But the time for reflection was over. With the sun beginning to sink toward the horizon, Laera slid from the rock upon which she had been sitting, her junior DIs following suit. “Time to get changed,” she said. “Dress reds, you know the drill.” The two staff sergeants accompanied her as she walked back to the barracks. The recruits knew what they were doing by now, so she didn't worry about whether or not they would find the parade ground where the graduation ceremony would take place, or if they would arrive on time. As the sergeants three marched in quick-step back toward the barracks, they passed Tuffass and his own junior DIs, who fell into step alongside them. “Another day, another graduating class, eh?” Laera said jovially to the Gand as she sauntered along, then her voice dropped to a whisper. “How are you holding up?” “Tuffass is well, thank you,” he replied levelly. “His latest batch of maggots seem to have finally molted, and they are almost ready to fly.” “Always a charmer, Gunny,” Laera said with a smirk. “Any new names to remember?” “A couple,” he said with the meanest hint of a smile from beneath that compact respirator. “They will go on the wall when he finally leaves this kriffing world.” Laera wondered, not for the first time, why the Corps had even assigned the already-handicapped noncom to such a torturous world. But she kept these thoughts private; she knew as well as any other Marine that you went where they sent you, and that was that. Tuffass would have no more requested a review of his assignment than he would have volunteered to be ejected into space without a vac-suit. In any case, such thoughts were useless; she needed to be concentrating on the needs of her own kids as they left the nest and ventured forth into the galaxy. The combat arachnids of this world were nothing compared to what chaos could be called down on the Republic should a menace such as the Sith ever return. The six noncoms, lost in their own reflections, said nothing as they made their way back to their respective barracks. — — — The panorama of another Caridan sunset was beautiful, but most of those who would be present for the ceremony wouldn't be in a position to appreciate the natural beauty it represented. Laera, with her junior DIs flanking her, stood before her platoon's assigned position on the parade ground in front of a podium that had been set up earlier in the day. Other knots of instructors stood to her left and right, but she paid them no heed, instead staring directly ahead as she and the others waited for their recruits to arrive and fall into formation within the plaza. All of them were resplendent in their dress reds, which bore their full sets of military decorations and honors. Laera still wore the uniform which had been given to her prior to her departure from Agamar so many years prior, though it had long since been altered to account for her growth into full womanhood. As she waited, she wondered briefly about her parents. She had corresponded with them, of course; about once every two or three months she sent them short messages letting them know how she was doing. She had kept up her woodcarving after graduating boot camp, and every time she completed a piece, she sent it home to her folks as a keepsake. Laera had become quite good at it, in fact. Her last piece, a reproduction of the new Hammerhead-class cruiser, had actually been a little too accurate, and someone from Republic Intelligence had intercepted the package before it could reach her homeworld. The thought of the indignant explanation still caused her to smile; they had told her in no uncertain terms that she was to mind what she carved lest she accidentally leak classified information. So she had taken up her knife once again, slicing out a few details here and there before sending it along once again. Her parents had written back as well, and just as frequently. Though she still hadn't had the chance to return to Agamar for a proper visit, Laera knew from their messages that, thanks to her pay, they had gotten back on their feet in a big way. Just last year they had finished rebuilding the old house, though Daddi had admitted to it not being the same with his little girl absent. They were enormously proud of her having risen through the ranks, and had supported her wish to go career and reenlist. Somehow, Laera resolved, she would make it back to her homeworld soon. Maybe Captain Sookanado would be amiable to approving a request for a thirty-day furlough... Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of the recruits, who began trickling onto the parade grounds in squads and forming up before their respective instructors. Third Squad was the first of hers to arrive, quickly followed by First and then Second Squad. All of the recruits were looking quite exhausted; their uniforms were filthy and soaked with flop sweat, as was to be expected after having spent seventy-two hours in them with no respite at all save for a pair of high-calorie meals at the twenty-four and forty-eight hour marks. The expressions on their faces more than made up for their messy appearances, however, with every one of them displaying a clear sense of relief and pride. The multispecies group had given their all, and the payoff was about to begin. When the last squad took its place, a single set of footsteps on ferrocrete echoed through the plaza from behind where Laera stood. The steps grew nearer, and the groaning of wood announced that their owner had mounted the podium. “At ease,” the confident voice of Teeklak Sookanado said, the sound system rigged along the perimeter carrying his words to all. “The furnace has been shut down and you, having endured its heat, have emerged as tempered durasteel, as Republic Marines. Close your eyes, bow your heads, and ponder that fact and what it means for you.” The traditional minute of contemplative silence seemed to ripple across the plaza like wavelets on a pond, and Laera's skin puckered with the sensation. There was something inexplicable about this part of the ceremony that had always resonated within her, especially since she had become a DI and had experienced it from the other side. Reflection, she had decided, was a good thing, and a useful exercise for one to engage in. “Every man and woman standing here has done something extraordinary,” Captain Sookanado continued, ending the quiet time as he gave the traditional commencement speech. “You reached deep within yourselves and found something that you might not have realized even existed, and put it to good use. In so doing you have forged yourselves anew, and now embark upon a mission of the utmost importance. A Marine considers as their most basic duty a commitment to the preservation of civilization, because he or she knows that it is by its very existence that we enjoy the liberties it provides. As Marines of the Republic, we are the guardians of peace, justice, and the innocent, ever present on the frontier and throughout the galaxy, ready to intercede at a moment's notice when those values are threatened. “You emerge as Marines during a time of uncertainties. I will not lie to you, nor soften the truth. Beyond the Republic, even as we celebrate your tremendous achievement, a force moves from star system to star system, planet to planet. This force is your opposite, for they live to conquer, to destroy, to raze entire worlds simply for the sake of battle and war, to test their skills in mortal combat simply because that is what they do. I speak of the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders, and though they continue to leave the Republic in peace, it is my opinion that it is only a matter of time before they turn their attention Coreward. Vigilance is what you have trained for during these long and difficult months, and it is vigilance that we must always exercise as we move forward, together, as a united force in the never-ending struggles of the galaxy.” “Detail, commence!” a voice shouted in the distance as Captain Sookanado stepped back from the podium. By this command, a pennant some five meters high and fifteen meters long was strung up the thick flagpole at the center of the plaza, which was situated behind the podium. As it reached the top of the mast, the flag was caught in the dusk breeze, unfurling to reveal the Marine Corps Crest emblazoned in gold upon a field of blood red. As the banner began to snap in the wind, a single laser cannon bolt shot skyward. “Marines, DISMISSED!” Laera bellowed, along with every other DI on the line. With a great cheer, the gathered privates flung their hats in the air, catching them amidst hearty congratulations, handshakes, back-slaps, hugs, and all manner of celebratory gestures. Throughout the tumult, Laera exchanged satisfied, if weary, glances with her junior DIs. She knew that all three of them were thinking the same thing: chow, then rest, then more rest. As she began to head back to her billet while new Marines continued to shout and cheer one another, a pair of footsteps fell in behind her. These weren't the strides of her subordinates, but the immediately-recognizable almost-limp of Tuffass, as well as that of Captain Sookanado himself. As if by unspoken agreement, the unlikely trio continued unfazed until they were out of sight of the celebrating mob. When they were, the Rodian motioned for the two DIs to follow him to his office. Five minutes later, they were there, with the door shut and privacy-sealed. “Captain Sookanado,” Laera acknowledged, exchanging salutes with the depot's commanding officer. “May I ask what this is about?” “Of course, Gunny,” the officer said amicably as he took a seat and bid his guests to do likewise. Laera did but, predictably, the Gand remained standing. “I wanted to see you as soon as possible after the graduation ceremony, just so that we could settle something that's been on my mind.” “At your pleasure, sir,” Laera replied, somewhat nonplussed. The Rodian officer steepled his sucker-tipped fingers over his desk, his glittering black eyes meeting Laera's sapphire blue irises. “I've been watching your performance as a drill instructor for quite some time now,” he began, his voice even, his expression betraying nothing, ever the consummate commander. “What you were able to achieve with your most recent class is nothing short of miraculous, and it speaks highly of your skills as a leader and motivator. While it is regrettable that Private lklew wasn't able to graduate with his classmates, the fact that he is still willing and able to complete his training is yet more proof.” “Thank you, sir,” Laera said into the captain's momentary pause. “Your career up to this point has also been exemplary,” he continued. “Your service record demonstrates that you are quite at home both aboard warships and while stationed on frontier outposts. Despite what the propaganda mill would have the citizenry believe, this isn't as easy as it sounds. For these reasons, I would like to recommend you for acceptance into Officer Candidate School.” “Sir, I...don't know what to say,” Laera said honestly, a lump rising in her throat. “It's been hell teaching these recruits on this high-grav world, but I honestly love it.” “This is a big step, I admit,” the captain replied, sympathy and understanding in his words and visage. “But it is my belief, and Gunnery Sergeant Tuffass here agrees with me, that you will be in a far better position to utilize your talents and abilities as an officer than you ever could have been as a drill instructor.” “Gunny?” Laera asked, shifting her gaze to the Gand. “What do you think?” “Tuffass will be honest,” he said in low, regretful tones. “If it were not for his injuries, he would have jumped at the chance to accept what you are being offered now. You are a good teacher, yes, but you are also a born leader. He knew this the moment you came to your squad's rescue during that first field exercise so many years ago.” “The next session of OCS doesn't start for another three months,” Captain Sookanado said into the uncertain silence that had descended upon his office. “In the meantime, if you choose to accept my recommendation—that is to say, your ticket in—then you will be given leave to visit any planet in the Republic that you wish. But I have a feeling about where you will want to go.” “Agamar,” Laera muttered distractedly. “Indeed,” the Rodian replied. “It is my understanding that you still have family there, correct?” “I do, sir,” Laera said, leaning slowly back in her seat, buying herself time to think. It was what she had been hoping for, to get to see her mother and father again, to see the house, to come home and live at a languid pace, if only for a little while. Her parents would be thrilled, of course, with their daughter becoming an officer. She had missed them dearly; the messages to and from had been textual only, the Republic didn't have the resources to spare to subsidize calls in full holo to such a young and remote world. A horrible feeling of dread washed over her at the prospect of this being her only chance to reacquaint herself with them. “Take your time, Sergeant,” the captain said as the silence dragged on. “But don't take too long. You have until tomorrow evening to choose, because that's when I have to have your replacement picked for the next class...”
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