Unlike so many others, Zatch was not displaced by the tragedy, only caught up in it. Fortunately, all he had to show for it was a cast and sling. Not his first broken arm, and probably not his last, but he was lucky to get away with that.
What was supposed to be an educational three-day trip turned into a week-long test of will in the aftermath of a fight for survival leaving an entire city in ruins; but as the truck rolled through increasingly familiar streets and his home came into view he supposed it all worked out in the end.
“Mom, dad, I’m home!” he tiredly called.
His parents quit pacing and fluttered around him like a pair of excited hummingbirds.
“I would have called ahead, but my phone didn’t make it,” he said, appreciating, but at the same time disregarding the worries they voiced.
“Forget your phone! What happened to your arm?”
“It’s fine. What about you? Did you hold out alright?”
“We’re okay now. Here, give me your bag–”
“I got it. Only one of my arms is broken.”
He retreated to his room and fell onto his bed, relishing the crispness of his sheets. He slept on the truck, so he wasn’t particularly tired, albeit stiff, but for the first time in a week nothing was crumbling around him.
Out of the corner of his eye his computer lit up. He must have jostled his desk when he laid down. The tabs to the study forums he frequented were still open, not exactly what he wanted to think about at the moment, but his inbox needed attention.
It was mostly classmates, teachers, obligatorily sympathetic sentiments regarding the event he just went through, things he could guiltlessly disregard, but one message made him realize his computer booting on its own was no accident. It was tagged first order priority, preventing deletion and automatically starting up any device registered to its receiver. Only a few organizations had the authority to tag messages like this, usually government, law enforcement, or disaster alerts, but none of them could fill Zatch with such a mixture of awe and dread when he read the sender.
Within half an hour he was waiting the lobby of an unmarked office building. Neither Zatch nor his parents spoke, instead meditating on the purpose of their visit in silence; though while Zatch bounced his leg and tapped his fingers on his cast, unsure of what else to do with his anticipation, his parents held one another as if waiting for the results of a cancer screening.
Zatch found a game in a staring contest with a security camera bolted into the corner of the steel walls. The light on the side blinked at irregular intervals, which he assumed meant it was on a motion sensor, so he’d stare at it for however long it took the cleaning robot to cross the floor and activate the light. That is, after he counted the security cameras, of which there were four in sight. He didn’t assume that’s all there were, likely more either behind one-way matte wall panels or too small for the human eye to see; but it didn’t matter as long as he didn’t do anything candid.
His little game succeeded as a distraction and before he knew it, they were called up to the only occupied office on that floor. The man waiting for them was tall, too well groomed to be grizzled, but not meticulously neat. He probably brushed his hair with his hand. He wore an expensive suit, except instead of a blazer, an officer’s coat hung off a hook in the corner. A patch of synthetic skin replaced much of his neck on the left side up to the jaw, making Zatch wonder how far down his torso the replacement extended.
The coat was a dark maroon with gold lining, the colors of the corps. Even without the colors or the decorations about the office it wasn’t hard to guess. He had that look in his eye shared by most military men that suspected everything and everyone it passed over and contemplated every possible method to kill should circumstance necessitate it, but with a laid back confidence rare in most standard militaries indifferent to anyone else’s ability to harm them.
People tended to go on guard in the presence of a corpsman, whether they are aware they have or not. It wasn’t as if they were afraid. Of anyone or anything in this world or any other, a corpsman was the last thing to fear, yet for Zatch to enter that office felt like willing stepping into a well-fed lion’s enclosure. His parents hid their trembling behind a façade of professionalism, but they didn’t dread the man for what he would do, they dreaded what he would bring upon their lives.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Sorry for the wait,” the corpsman apologized simultaneously casual and matter-of-fact. “I didn’t think you’d come so soon. I’d expect a few days’ recoup after what you went through.”
“I’d rather get it out of the way,” Zatch replied, easier now that the air was cleared. “If you expected a recoup, you should have waited to send the summons.”
The corpsman smirked at Zatch’s attitude. “We appreciate promptness. But more so we appreciate action. You wouldn’t be standing here today if you weren’t capable of taking action.”
“Someone had to.”
“I’m glad you think so. When the world came to realize the crashdowns weren’t going away and the dwindling nations left each other to fend for themselves, it was people like you who went out of their way to clear out crash sites that would have gone unchecked because they didn’t land on sovereign territory. Those same people would go on to form the corps, protect the people on a global level. Tell me, what are you planning to do when you finish your education?”
Zatch answered without much forethought. “Serve my mandatory two years, then maybe become an engineer. That’s been my focus at school.”
“Did you ever consider applying to the corps?”
Zatch chuckled. “Sure, but it was like a little kid dreaming of becoming the President or going to mars. Sure, it happens, but not to me.”
“What do you think of it now?”
“It doesn’t feel real. It feels more real than it did before last week, but that still feels like a fluke. There can’t be any shortage of people willing to stick their necks out for the rest of the world. Not for you to offer someone with my grades a position.”
“Academic proficiency is convenient, but a corpsman with a survival instinct is far more valuable than one who can pass a test. Doubly so if they can survive and get the job done. If you want evidence, most of the cadets we were looking to recruit from the NAU this season were at that expo. Nearly all of them were killed or hospitalized.”
Zatch’s eyes widened at this news. “How many were collateral?”
“None. All survived the impact, they died responding to the aftermath. Only a handful of people walked into that shit soup by choice, among which you were most eminent. Is something the matter?”
Zatch rubbed his chin soberingly. “I’m… disappointed.”
“There’s no disparaging them for the lives they gave theirs to save, but they aren’t much use to anyone dead.”
“Yeah. I guess that puts new perspective on becoming a corpsman.”
“Or an officer in your own military, if that suits you. Honestly, we don’t care where on Earth you go after you’re trained, as long as you put your talents toward her protection. But not without preparation.”
“You mean the academies?”
“Indeed. Politically neutral, well supplied training facilities where the various countries send their best and brightest to be tormented by our old dogs who’ve grown a little too grey in the whiskers for active duty.”
“I know. I applied for an engineering course at Dellerouge, but my grades weren’t good enough.”
“You’ll be happy to know that your performance after the crashdown earned you a recommendation from the corpsman who cleaned up the mess.”
“There was a corpsman in the city?”
“Just one, off duty, with outdated equipment. Unfortunately, this hero will go unsung if we can help it. He wasn’t supposed to be in the country, let alone at the event.”
“Is it safe for you to tell me this?”
“You won’t cause much harm without a name. Less if you don’t want his recommendation to go to waste. I hope you didn’t have your heart set on Dellerouge, because one of the conditions of the recommendation is for you to enroll in Echo.”
Zatch’s parents cringed at the word like he’d suggested sending their boy to prison or the front lines. His mother looked as if she was going to say something but caught the words. His father took her hand. “Zatch, we don’t want you to go. Life as a soldier… it’s not what we wanted for you.”
“With all due respect to you as his parents and guardians,” the corpsman peevishly replied. “Self-interest is a luxury. Zatch has every right to do as he wishes, but we would not extend this invitation if we did not believe anything else would be an egregious waste of potential.”
“I know!” Zatch’s mom anxiously blurted. She took Zatch’s hand and wiped his cheek as if there was a tear there. “We won’t force you to say no, even though every fiber of my being wants to tell this guy off and leave as quickly as possible. People will die, you’ll lose friends, that disaster you just escaped will seem like child’s play compared to what you’ll walk into! I’ve always known you’re an amazing boy– it’s about time someone else realized it –but someday that won’t be enough. I don’t mean to scare you into saying what I want to hear, just know it won’t be easy.
“You don’t need to decide today,” the corpsman stately informed, deciphering the contemplation going on behind the boy’s eyes. “You have two whole years of basic education to make up your mind before your mandatory service takes precedence.”
Zatch stared through the wall, betraying nothing through his expression or tone. “You know, while I was waiting to get trucked home, this guy said something to me. He asked, ‘If you knew what kind of hell was waiting, would you have stayed home?’ I usually don’t waste my time with hindsight crap, but it got me thinking. Before it all went down, I probably would have. Let someone else step up, let them risk their life. Now that I know what hell is like, I don’t know if I can trust anyone else to face it.”