Dispatch Hall, Fortress Howe, morning of July 16.
This day was a good day for Private Tychus Finley, because it was the first day he was able to escape from the hell on earth that was R-156 Federal Prison.
Tychus is a veteran. He was once a staff sergeant. He was only a few Kaimorian heads away from being promoted to a staff sergeant. However, because he tried to steal a sum of captured supplies on the battlefield, Tychus was not only arrested. I fucked him to the end and even went to jail.
According to Part 14 of the Federal Uniform Military Regulations, Chapter 76, Article 2, Tychus should have been executed immediately, but perhaps the Marine Corps commanders believed that a dead Marine would not be worse off than a criminal. value, he finally survived.
During the three-month period of forced labor, Tychus had to work sixteen hours a day in a federal mine, using explosives, carts and hoes, the most primitive and dangerous methods, without protection. He went down to mine ore. Even so, he finally came through and was allowed to rejoin the Marine Corps as a private soldier.
A transfer order transferred Tychus and other soldiers who had returned to the army for various reasons from his original planet Redding III to Turasis II to join the Federation Marine Corps' military base on the planet, Fortress Howe. garrison troops.
Because it is far away from the equator and located in the cold zone, the soldiers standing guard outside the dispatch hall of Fortress Howe all wear gray thick woolen coats, leather ear protection hats and long leather boots. The soldiers stationed here are all genuine land warriors. Team members don't need to wear cool power armor or drive decommissioned Goliath mechas every day to fool those bare-butt boys whose eyes light up when they see mechas, to join the army.
Tychus tightened his thin shirt and walked into the crowded dispatching hall. The temperature in the hall was finally higher, but it still chilled Tychus who had adapted to the dry and hot climate of Reading III. That "lovely" layer of fat on your belly doesn't bring any warmth.
After being imprisoned, all Tychus' personal belongings and equipment were confiscated. Now he only wears a shirt and a thin black nylon jacket. His only possessions are a few pairs of underwear in a handbag. and a sonic razor.
Now, Tychus must pass through the long line of thirty or forty people in front of them, go to the counter in front of them, and report to the uniformed sergeant. Then he can receive a new set of thick clothes. and new equipment, reporting to his new superior.
Tychus walked straight past the long queue, ignoring the surprised looks of the people next to him. He first pushed his belly onto the edge of the mahogany table of the counter, and then deftly used his fat butt to lift the counter. The soldier who was talking to the dispatch sergeant turned away.
He put his elbows on the smooth tabletop of the counter and pulled out an ID card with identification function from his trouser pocket.
"Sergeant, old Tychus still has some important things to do. I think you can open the door as much as possible." Tychus pushed his ID card in front of the sergeant, and at the same time calmly handed out a The quality of the cigar may not be that good.
The soldier who was squeezed away just dared to be angry but did not dare to speak. Compared with his thin body, Tychus was six and a half feet tall, which made him a giant. In comparison, he was also very big.
Scary, with a thick layer of fat on the solid muscles, he walks like a heavy but calm grizzly bear.
Tychus's dark brown hair was shaved into a buzz cut, and there was a layer of deep wrinkles next to his chiseled features. When he wrinkled his thick eyebrows or became angry, the wrinkles made him even more distraught.
It looks fierce and terrifying.
"Private, jumping in line is not something a federal citizen with good moral character should do. As an excellent federal marine, you should abide by Article 43 of the Marine Corps Management Regulations..." Then
The petty officer is a young man with brown hair and brown eyes. There is a long dark scar on the back of his neck, more precisely below his left ear.
"What's going on? You're not my mother." Tychus didn't know yet that this meant that the other party was a soldier who had been resocialized, and he knew very little about these transformed soldiers: "Instead of
Instead of wasting time chattering, you might as well quickly put this little pink card away and insert it where it belongs."
Seeing that the noncommissioned officer did not collect his own cigar, Tychus thought that the other officer looked down on the inferior brand he had obtained in prison, but in this case, he did not have to pay for an extra cigarette.
"Yes, you are right." To Tychus's expectation, the sergeant actually recognized his nonsense and arrogant logic: "I really shouldn't keep the people waiting in line behind me.
, and I am not your mother, nor do I have the responsibility to educate you."
Although the sergeant's voice was calm and serious in the second half of the story, Tychus still felt that the other party was insulting him. But because he didn't want to go to prison again, Tychus had to swallow his breath temporarily. He decided to remember first
This noncommissioned officer's face will look good to him when he takes a bath in the public bathhouse.
"Private Tychus Finley, according to the transfer order, is assigned to the first squad of the third platoon of the garrison company. Your squad leader is...well, Sergeant Augustus Mengsk." The sergeant tapped on the keyboard and said.
.
"Sounds like a good name, I hope I'm not a fool." Tychus grinned and said: "So, sergeant, where should I get my plush bedding, pillows, socks, and other stuff that won't cost me anything?
Where’s the fur coat that’s freezing to death right now?”
"..." The sergeant frowned, seeming to be troubled by this problem that went beyond the fixed process. After scanning the computer screen, his brows relaxed: "You are right, you are indeed
You should get a set of equipment suitable for severe cold areas, and I sincerely apologize to you for my mistake."
"..." Tychus had nothing to say for a moment. He had never seen a noncommissioned officer sincerely apologize to a private. In Reading III, where bureaucracy and corporal punishment of officers are prevalent,
Among the Marine Corps, this usually indicates that the other party is going to give you some shoes to fill.
Are all Turasis so polite? Doesn't this make old Tychus look very uneducated?
"Go to Supply Depot No. 7 and give it to the person on duty there. Give this to him and he will give you what you need." When the sergeant handed Tychus's ID card back to him, he said
He was handed an additional chip.
"That doesn't sound bad." Tychus took the ID card and chip, turned around and left, boarding a bus at the door heading deep into Fortress Howe, and finally stopped in front of a flat, single-story building.
Supply Station No. 7 has a silver-gray metal shell, two huge turbo fans on the shiny metal walls, and a metal pipe that goes straight to the ground is buzzing.
The door of the supply station was unguarded, and Tychus walked in without hesitation, thinking that he might be able to find an opportunity to "appropriate goodwill" the supplies here to help those who were so poor that they had nothing to wear and no clothes to cover their bodies.
Girls.
The supply station is very spacious. It is a huge warehouse composed of rows of shelves several people high. The shelves are filled with various cardboard boxes and lock boxes. There are about seven or eight young soldiers in brown military uniforms working in twos and threes.
Unloading goods on the ground, counting goods, climbing ladders to move goods on or off shelves.
Sitting at the only counter was an energetic soldier with short black hair and neatly dressed uniform. The name on his ID badge was James Reynolds.
"Good morning, what can I do for you?" Acting Logistics Sergeant Reno said.