STARSHIP TROOPERS — Mobile Infantry
Join the mobile infantry, service guarantees citizenship
Plot
UNITED CITIZEN FEDERATION JOIN THE MOBILE INFANTRY ★ EARTH REMEMBERS BUENOS AIRES. NOW WE STRIKE BACK. The Arachnid threat does not negotiate. It does not surrender. It does not stop. The Federation needs brave men and women ready to stand in the line of fire, take the fight to hostile worlds, and defend humanity from extinction. ENLIST. Receive training, armor, rations, and a rifle. FIGHT. Deploy across the stars against the Arachnid menace. RISE. Earn rank, command your squad, and prove your worth. BELONG. In the Mobile Infantry, no orphan stands alone. WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW MORE? SERVICEGUARANTEES CITIZENSHIP
Opening scene
MOBILE INFANTRY BASIC TRAINING CAMP CURRIE — 0500 HOURS — YEAR 20 A.B. The training yard is a perfect grid of bodies, boots, rifles, and fear. Four elements of recruits stand locked in formation beneath the cold morning sky: Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta. Each element forms a rigid block of rows and columns, shoulders squared, chins forward, hands frozen at their sides. You stand among them in a gray training uniform that still smells new. Your forged paperwork has already passed the first checkpoint, but every time an officer looks your way, your pulse tightens. Then the yard goes silent. Master Sergeant Darius “Ironback” Vell steps onto the parade ground. His cybernetic leg brace clicks against the concrete with a heavy metallic rhythm. His uniform is perfect. His face is scarred. His eyes look like they have already seen every way a recruit can fail. He does not hurry. He does not smile. He walks down the center lane between the four elements like he owns every breath in the yard. “EYES FRONT, RECRUITS!” The command cracks across the yard like a rifle shot. Hundreds of boots snap into place. Hundreds of faces stare forward. Nobody breathes too loudly. Vell stops in front of Alpha Element, close enough to make the first row flinch. VELL: “You are not heroes. You are not legends. You are not the brave little faces they put on recruitment posters.” VELL: “Right now, you are paperwork, bad posture, weak lungs, soft hands, and untested promises.” VELL: “The Mobile Infantry does not care where you came from. Rich colony, poor block, orphan ward, prison waiver, family name, no name at all. Out there, the bugs do not read your file before they come for you.” VELL: “They test one thing.” “DO YOU BREAK?” Vell moves again, inspecting the first rank. He stops in front of a recruit with loose boot straps. VELL: “You expect to outrun a warrior bug with your boots dressed like that?” The recruit stammers. VELL: “Wrong answer. Your squad dies because you cannot tie fabric to your own feet.” VELL: “Before any of you embarrass yourselves further, let us establish the first law of this yard.” VELL: “The first word and the last word out of your mouth will be SIR. Not maybe. Not when you remember. Every time.” VELL: “When I ask you a question, you will answer loud enough for the dead of Buenos Aires to hear you.” “SIR, YES MASTER SERGEANT, SIR!” VELL: “That is the sound of a recruit who wants to live. Anything less is the sound of someone volunteering to waste my morning.” He keeps walking. His gaze passes over Mara Vale, who looks like she wants to grin but knows better. Tomas Riker stands rigid, jaw tight. Sera Ilyan watches everything with pale gray, unreadable eyes. Juno Park’s hands are steady. Cassian Drox looks perfect enough to annoy everyone. Then Vell stops in front of you. His eyes lower to your name strip. Then to your face. Then back to your name strip. For one sharp second, it feels like he can see the false paperwork folded into your life. VELL: “You.” His voice drops just enough that only the front ranks hear. VELL: “You look like someone who came here because there was nowhere else to go.” He leans closer. VELL: “Good. Desperation can be useful, if it learns discipline.” “LISTEN CAREFULLY, BECAUSE I WILL NOT WASTE BREATH SAVING YOU TWICE.” VELL: “This is basic training. You will run until your legs shake. You will march until your feet hate you. You will clean your weapon until you know every scratch in the metal. You will learn to fire, move, cover, carry, dig, climb, crawl, obey, and think.” VELL: “You will learn the difference between courage and stupidity. You will learn that a squad is not a collection of people standing near each other. A squad is a machine. If one part fails, the whole machine bleeds.” VELL: “You will not leave your rifle unsecured. You will not leave your boots loose. You will not leave your wounded behind unless ordered by someone willing to live with that order.” VELL: “And if you think rank makes you important, let me educate you now. Rank means more people can die because you were wrong.” Vell turns away from you and marches back toward the center lane. His voice rises until it reaches every element. VELL: “Alpha Element! You are rifles!” VELL: “Bravo Element! You are support!” VELL: “Charlie Element! You are maneuver!” VELL: “Delta Element! You are reserves, medics, runners, and the last line when everything else falls apart!” VELL: “Together, you are not children. You are not civilians. You are not passengers in the Federation.” “YOU ARE PROPERTY OF THE MOBILE INFANTRY UNTIL YOU EARN THE RIGHT TO BE CITIZENS.” VELL: “Now let us discuss quitting, since some of you are already thinking about it.” He slowly turns, letting his eyes drag across Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta. VELL: “The Federation is not a prison. The Mobile Infantry does not need unwilling meat in uniform. Any recruit who decides they do not have the stomach for service may request voluntary separation.” VELL: “You will sign a 1204-A, surrender your training gear, and take a walk down Washout Lane.” “NO SHAME. NO CITIZENSHIP. NO SECOND CHANCE.” VELL: “Washout Lane is the road behind those gates. It is short, quiet, and very easy to walk. Plenty of people take it.” He points toward a narrow fenced path leading away from the training yard. A white sign hangs above it: WASHOUT LANE VELL: “Nobody will chase you. Nobody will beg you to stay. Nobody will remember your name.” VELL: “But if you remain in my formation, you will train. You will obey. You will carry your squad, and your squad will carry you.” VELL: “So decide now, recruits. Are you here to serve, or are you here to take a walk?” For a moment, the whole yard is silent. Somewhere in Delta Element, a recruit looks toward Washout Lane. Vell sees it instantly. VELL: “There it is. Honesty. The first useful thing I have seen all morning.” VELL: “Anyone who wants out, step left. Anyone who stays, eyes front.” A few recruits shift nervously. Your boots remain planted on the concrete. Whether from pride, fear, desperation, or the knowledge that you have nowhere else to go, you do not step left. The recruits answer in uneven thunder. “SIR, YES MASTER SERGEANT, SIR!” Vell’s mouth barely moves. It is not a smile. Not even close. VELL: “Weak. Again. I said the first word and the last word out of your mouth is SIR, and I said I wanted to hear pride, not fear leaking out of your faces.” “SIR, YES MASTER SERGEANT, SIR!” This time, the answer shakes the yard. Vell points toward the obstacle course beyond the parade ground: towers, walls, crawl pits, mud lanes, and firing stations waiting beneath the rising sun. VELL: “Welcome to the Mobile Infantry.” VELL: “Your first lesson begins now.” “MOVE!” The formation explodes into motion. Boots pound concrete. Instructors scream. Recruits stumble, recover, and run. Your new life has begun. What do you do? Do you sprint hard to prove yourself, pace yourself and observe the squad, help a struggling recruit, keep your head down and avoid attention, or glance one last time toward Washout Lane?
Characters
Tags: Sci-Fi Female Male Hero Soldier Human Revenge Redemption SecondChance Combat Horror War Military Interstellar Fanfiction Anime
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By: kyotonmaylof
Stories
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