The soldiers were en route to graduating from the GMT after clearing Field Camp. To successfully graduate as newly minted privates of the UAFAF, these recruits had to master the beauty of parade marching and display their uniformity of excellence under the adoration of those they would defend with their lives.

  Neptune observed his batchmates marching under the hot sun from the stands above the parade square. He couldn’t understand how stupid his batchmates were to believe in that charlatan’s propaganda. No matter how he tried to think about it, reframing it from every rational angle, this unnecessary procedure of walking in rounds, with the amount of gear they had, made zero logical sense. To think he used to watch the Swan Contingent march for years and to witness the final product come to life from all that rehearsal boggles his mind.

  “No wonder they’re idiots.”

  “My esteemed young Smith. Mind if I, the greatest medical genius in the Federation’s short history, join you?”

  Upon hearing a familiar voice, Neptune turned to see Boris descending the stands toward him.

  “I thought you had things to do.”

  “Yes and no. My medics are busy because some recruits did not hydrate themselves adequately.”

  “You mean they caught a heat injury?”

  “Something like that, a minor heat stroke. Then again, I do understand their excitement.” Boris leaned closer towards Neptune, sensing he might not share the same sentiments as his batchmates. “You don’t feel the same? That feeling of achievement of conquering the unknown?!”

  “You…are serious, right?”

  “How dare you doubt my ingenuity?!”

  Neptune began fanning himself with his hands. “It’s not that. I just can’t fathom marching under that intense heat. They must be idiots or something.”

  “Well, during the Field Camp, a couple of recruits did admit they were idiots.”

  “...You do know they admitted that under distress.”

  “Let’s switch subjects, young Smith.“ Boris yawned loudly as he sat down.

  “Hold up.” Neptune folded his arms. “Why are you calling me young Smith when we’re the same age?”

  “Can you stop asking these tough questions?”

  “That’s a simple one.”

  “Not that simple, you know. It looks like you’re enjoying the immunity I gave you?” Boris smirked, lightly tapping his test subject’s shoulders. “Yikes, this bench is so uncomfortable. This will induce back problems for all of the young studs!”

  “You are whiny for a guy.”

  “Is that a problem? How have you been using the free pass I’ve given you?”

  Neptune raised his eyebrows.

  “Without my immunity, guess who’ll be marching under the hot sun in this unforgiving weather? Now’s the time for you to thank me!” Boris grinned audaciously at his patient while pumping out his chest.

  Neptune was a little reluctant to boost Boris’s ego and kept quiet.

  “Come on, I’m waiting.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Pavlov, the greatest medical genius.” Neptune’s eyes were fixated on his batchmates as they marched around the parade square.

  “Perfect. How are things with them? Patched things up like boys do?”

  Neptune looked up at Boris briefly before turning away.

  “I get it. Must be bad.”

  “Who cares? I won’t see them soon–” Neptune spotted something odd. “–Wait a minute, where did they come from?” Neptune pointed at the female soldiers he had not seen since arriving at Ravens Camp. It was surreal to see them after so long.

  “You mean those fertile soldiers who should be pumping out babies instead of serving in the military?”

  “That’s crude,” Neptune spat at Boris, who pretended to wince, falling back from the bench dramatically, “What sort of training did they receive?”

  “Why do you want to know so much?”

  “...I’m just curious.”

  “Lies. You can tell me, young Smith. I won’t tell. My lips will be as sealed as super glue.”

  “Did the Federation mess up their officer selection criteria?”

  “You better take back those nasty words. The same people who picked me also picked you!”

  “Are you implying–”

  “You’ll find out yourself. The ball is not in my court to tell you anything. Why don't you go talk to your mentor?”

  Neptune’s memory of his mentor lecturing him resurfaced and he sighed loudly. “Sir Ivan isn’t happy with my performance during the situational–”

  “Hey, don’t switch subjects on me. I know what you’re up to. Come on, don’t tell me you like someone from your batch. Someone would be upset with you!”

  “What did you just–”

  Boris flicked his finger at Neptune’s forehead. “You’re dense as hell, young Smith.”

  “Ouch. Give me a hint. Don’t leave me hanging high and dry.”

  “You’re a virgin…aren’t you?”

  Neptune's face turned as bright red as a ripened tomato.

  “You might possess a brilliant mind, but when it comes to matters of the heart, you’re as clueless as they come. However, I understand. You’re too young to know the signs.”

  “Like you said, I’m a young Smith.”

  “It’s just a nickname.”

  “I’m young and a Smith.”

  Boris seemed flabbergasted at Neptune’s ability to tell a stupid, cold joke. “Don’t ever do that again. It doesn’t match your vibe.”

  “Spill the tea.”

  “Alright, I give up. One of my colleagues is smitten with you! I won’t tell you who, even if you ask! Go figure!”

  There was no way someone like her would find him remotely attractive. Neptune looked down at his oversized uniform and not-so-fit physique shamefully.

  “...Is it my platoon commander? You’re pulling my legs.”

  “What did you say?”

  “..........................”

  “Hey, young Smith.”

  Boris’s prompt received no response.

  “It seems you’re looking a little flustered. Are you starting to feel your groins heat up? Are your genitals activated in anticipation of planting your seed far and deep within what’s between her legs? I won’t fault you for that. She’s hot. Hot with a capital H. She might be able to teach you a couple tricks here and there.”

  “Tricks?”

  “The indoor olympics and all that good stuff. You need to know the joys of using your dipstick, young Smith!”

  “You do have a vivid imagination. Shut up.”

  “But you can’t deny your primal instincts awakening..”

  Neptune sighed quickly, slumping his shoulders.

  “You forgot I’ve studied the human anatomy as part of my curriculum.”

  “That’s way too much information. Now I can’t erase what you just said.”

  “Nothing quite like improving the Federation’s birthright! You and her will make–”

  “Please stop.”

  “Here’s some advice, don’t live life with regrets. Don’t forget that we’re still young. There’s still plenty of life ahead of us. With a war coming up on our shores, we will never know our last day. Take it from someone who had lived some life ahead of you, young Smith.”

  Neptune raised his eyebrows at Boris’s words. It seemed as though he had quadrupled in age. “Aren’t we the same age? You’re starting to sound like a grandpa.”

  “Where’s your evidence?” Boris challenged.

  “...Sometimes I forget you’re an officer.” Now, it was Neptune’s turn to tease.

  “I’m not just any officer, young Smith. I’m a Medical. M with a capital M. Medical Officer! Also, I’ll be a grandpa if you can fertilise–”

  “You sound like a child compared to my contemporaries. I wonder which is worse–”

  “Hey, I’m the same age as you, young Smith!”

  “So, you admit it?”

  “I’m admitting it under distress, so it doesn’t count!”

  “Every time I speak to you, I feel like I’m getting nowhere.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “That’s your problem, not mine! You’re lucky you have an acquaintance such as myself entertaining you. Where do you find doctors that can provide such good after-consultation services?! Tell me!”

  “Fine, thank you. You know, even though we are the same age…”

  Neptune imagined a world where the North had not fallen.

  “...It feels like we are two lost souls living in the wrong era.”

  “Hold it right there, we aren’t the same age! I’m older than you!”

  “Shut up, you admitted it earlier. What are your thoughts about the Drazen Empire?”

  It seemed a lightbulb went up in Boris’s nefarious mind. “You mean Goldilocks?”

  “Goldilocks…?”

  “You know you’re talking to a Drazen when they have freakishly annoying, beautiful golden blonde hair!”

  “That…I must agree.”

  Boris rubbed his chin in a scholarly-like manner. “How do they maintain that beautiful mane?”

  “...You worry about that?”

  “No, but we should be worried about which house is leading this invasion.”

  Throughout the Drazen Empire’s reign of dominance throughout history, each noble house took its respective turn occupying the throne. It was a never-ending struggle for dominance and power amongst the descendants of their neighbouring continent.

  “The Crown Prince was the one who declared war against us. Isn’t it obvious?”

  “House Drazen isn’t known for being geeky. Maybe House Corvus–”

  “We’re getting a little over ourselves. Isn’t that just myths? I thought they were constantly infighting.” Neptune suspected Boris’s knowledge of the Empire and their state of affairs were outdated. After all, thirty years is a long time.

  “Nah, by the time we know who the Empire sends to our doorsteps, we would be dead already. There’s something else we should worry about. I’ve always wondered about it on several nights. You remember the day we got hijacked?”

  How could he not? Since that day, his reality started to have hues that were not monochrome.

  “What about it?”

  Neptune knew there was no way the Drazen Empire could have hijacked the Federation, given its multilayered security protocols nested deep within the North’s data centres. A data kingdom that stood undisputed and impenetrable for more than three decades, unless someone had compromised them from the inside.

  “There must be spies…” Boris gave an enigmatic passing remark.

  “I heard that spies are often the ones who look the least bit suspicious. Considering my batchmates all act like idiots, there might be a chance one of them is.” Neptune felt some truth in Boris’s remark.

  “I guess you’re not wrong. Even my medics? They might be a spy sent from the intelligence branch to monitor the greatest doctor in the Federation’s history!”

  “Here you go again–”

  The alarm on Boris’s watch sounded off.

  “Damn, that was a good break. I got to prepare for some training now. Don’t misuse the good stuff I gave you. Ciao!” Boris stood up and returned to his medical station in the stands. “I want to see what you can achieve with your mind in the war effort. A soldier like you cannot be sent to the trenches to die.” Boris stretched his arms as he gave one last glance at the fields. “Especially to march like an idiot in the fields below. Also, I wanna see your child soon.”

  “What…?! Ciao, Boris.”

  With a wandering mind and his eyes fixated upon the idiots marching in the heat, he heard footsteps, the sound of seasoned military boots stomping the hard concrete floor with indomitable force, approaching from the top of the stands. Feeling curious, Neptune turned his head to see a group of senior staff officers looking down at the parade square.

  Neptune felt deep resentment as he looked at them. These older men who stood at the top of the stands, escorted by several Administrators, observed their mandate of death marked onto the youths, who surrendered their sovereignty for a battle these officials should have fought themselves. They did not mutter “livestock”, but their body language gave it away.

  “Dear sirs, we welcome you to Ravens Camp.”

  An Administrator, holding a nominal roll, bowed deeply, boosting the egos of the senior officials she escorted. Her tone portrayed a level of respect one would give to someone who held a high appointment in the highest levels of military command.

  “No worries, Staff Paula, we enjoy the new facilities. It has been decades since we stepped into this camp.” One of the senior officials, wearing a camouflage green uniform and a green beret, spoke in a deep voice.

  “Staff Paula, we appreciate your kind hospitality. All of us do, right, my fellow gentlemen?” Another senior official wearing a grey uniform spoke.

  “Aye, Admiral Ulysses.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Neptune glanced over at the Admiral, whose annoyingly squeaky voice riled him up. Despite this Admiral’s short stature and stout physique, he possessed an intimidating aura that words could not describe. Neptune wasn’t sure if any word in the dictionary could fit him. His unwavering gaze seemed hardened from seeing hell on earth, considering he was one of the war heroes of the Singularity War. It seemed as though Admiral Ulysses had gained this supernatural veil surrounding him from his illustrious military career. The rank of Admiral wasn’t something to take lightly, for it meant Ulysses had achieved this rank as the Navy’s number one officer by sheer naval excellence.

  “My dear Staff Andre, where is our esteemed Brigadier General?” Admiral Ulysses probed one of the Administrators who had put down his phone.

  “Sir, he will be arriving shortly!” Staff Andre replied nervously, holding both hands together, shivering in the face of the almighty Admiral Ulysses.

  Admiral Ulysses locked eyes with the Administrator, sending a frightening chill down his spine before he eased up and cackled humorously loudly.

  “Relax, young man! Take it easy.”

  Admiral Ulysses turned to face his subordinates as he continuously patted Staff Andre on his back, increasing the tone of laughter as he did so. More talking heads joined the typhoon of laughter, creating an atmosphere where the combined laughter sounded loud–on purpose–but devoid of emotion. It was the act of laughing for the sake of laughing. A type of forced compliance that made these sheep follow their shepherd dutifully. Neptune felt a cold, dismissive chill from observing the robotic-like interaction. The hollow laughter continued reverberating in the stands until another pair of loud footsteps, accompanied by an entourage of blue-uniformed officers, appeared.

  Unlike the unprofessional, disorganised marching by the recruits under the hot sun, the sounds made by this entourage sounded akin to an award-winning orchestra’s performance. Neptune recognised the officer standing in the sea of blue-uniformed soldiers. Instead of the white uniform he had worn originally, that officer now wore a blue uniform with a cloth bearing one black star in the middle. His commanding presence and immense physique spoke volumes about his last name’s pedigree. One would say it was a worthy visual of holding the rank of Brigadier General compared to the other senior officials who were old and out of shape.

  “Good afternoon, sirs. My apologies for running late.” The General apologised, bowing respectfully to his fellow senior officials.

  “Oh, ho, ho, what good manners! It’s fine! We weren’t doing much, right?”

  Admiral Ulysses laughed loudly, making his subordinates mimic his gesture out of fear of not following orders.

  “It’s good to see you after so long. How is it going along?”

  “Everything is going according to plan. However, I had to tie up a few loose ends earlier, hence my late arrival. I hope you, fine gentlemen, had plenty of wine to drink and cheese to savour earlier. If you would like more, you know where to look. I’m sure they’ll handle all of your needs in haste.”

  “Oh, yes, indeed! The finest wines and cheese from South Atlantea! The greatest gifts from the lands where your esteemed ancestors have cultivated with their heavenly gifts!”

  Admiral Ulysses cracked a loud laughter, which elicited an even bigger response from his subordinates, who mimicked it–like a mirror image–again. It was a classic case of monkey see monkey do.

  Neptune failed to notice someone closing in on him from a distance as he was distracted by that Air Force General’s ability to maintain a poker face.

  “Young man, what are you doing here?”

  Neptune froze in fear like a child with his hands caught in the cookie jar.

  “Sir! I am medically ineligible to participate in the parade.” Neptune could not summon the courage to face the senior official, for the weight of their ranks caused his head to hang low in their powerful presence. Also, his speech patterns were so quick that any discerning eye could tell he wasn’t being authentic.

  “Must be sad knowing this rite of passage would not happen for you…ever again.” Another squeaky voice joined in the interrogation and Neptune nervously swallowed. “Well, what happened, young soldier? What would handicap you from experiencing this wondrous finale?”

  Admiral Ulysses cast his gaze downward, with his surbodinates copying the same action, creating an atmosphere of inferiority, where the joy of life seemed to have become sucked out of.

  “I injured my lower back during the Field Camp, sir.”

  “That’s it? An injury of that kind would leave one of my soldiers out of commission?”

  Neptune dared not meet the Admiral’s gaze.

  “So specific. Is it self-diagnosed or…? I did not know our soldiers are this fragile.”

  “Sir, I…”

  He had the immunity bestowed upon him by the MO, Dr. Boris Pavlov himself. Even the President couldn’t revoke anything the Medical Corps had issued.

  The Admiral’s piercing stare spoke volumes, creating a tense environment where nobody dared speak. “A back injury can set you back a long way so consider yourself…well…lucky. I hope you know what to do with this stroke of fortune because second chances don’t come by this often, young soldier. Well, then. Let’s not talk about such trivial matters,” Admiral Ulysses laughed again. His tone suggested that this irrelevant soldier’s injury carried little significance. After all, if this injured soldier couldn’t participate in the war effort, the parade square had other lambs to the slaughter available.

  “How I wish I was your age and could return to marching in ceremonies! I would have volunteered in advance if I knew you were hurt.”

  “Sir, I’m sure the parade commander would allow you to join in if you insist!” One of the senior officials praised the Admiral from above.

  “Not this march. Most definitely not this one.”

  The Admiral’s words sounded like a warning as everyone went eerily silent.

  “How many graduating soldiers are there again? Aren’t they called batches?”

  “Yes, sir,” Neptune responded but the Admiral had already turned his head upwards.

  “I’m not talking to you, young man.”

  “Yes, sir, they’re called batches.” The Administrator urgently replied.

  “Hurry up with the numbers. We don’t have all day.”

  They could fabricate a random number, for it would not matter. The Admiral did not have to know how many batches existed, not even the total count of livestock ready to die on the battlefield. The details were simply insignificant. These were mere numbers to someone of his rank. An insignificant rounding error on the nominal roll his secretaries would prepare upon the aftermath. With his tenure spanning that many decades, what was another million added to the final count?

  “Most definitely, my esteemed sir.”

  As the Administrator trembled where she stood, she quickly tabulated the official number, not that the higher brass cared, to share the numbers.

  “My apologies for the delay, sir!”

  “Get on with it.”

  “Admiral, we have Batch 1 to Batch 180. There are a total of 180 batches in Ravens Camp. Each batch of soldiers has around 10 to 15 recruits. On average–”

  “Thank you.”

  Admiral Ulysses waved his hand to dismiss the Administrator. He only wanted to know how many batches of livestock he had, not the total number, as he could easily change the number in reports completed by his field officers.

  “My goodness! I forgot!” The Admiral placed his oversized hand on his forehead and looked at the injured recruit. “I didn’t ask for your name! How rude of me!”

  “Recruit Neptune Smith, sir.”

  Admiral Ulysses seemed taken aback by his name. Most people who heard his name would comment on how rare his name was, but this reaction from the Admiral was a first.

  “Smith…” Admiral Ulysses had a puzzled expression as he sank deep into thought, as an Administrator walked forward to assist him with a background check of this recruit.

  “Sir, I can assist.”

  “No need, Staff Andre. Recruit Neptune Smith, your surname…I’m sure you have heard of the Legendary…” Admiral Ulysses seemingly recalled an old memory before bellowing. “...Adam Smith!”

  “Isn’t he the mythical father of economics?”

  The Admiral cackled again. “You are one smart kid. I didn’t know a young sapling like yourself even heard about the legendary father of economics!”

  “I have a love for books, sir.”

  “What a coincidence! I presume the apple doesn’t fall far from that tree. Where would you be posted to after you graduate?”Admiral Ulysses took another step down, reaching the same level where Neptune sat in the stands. The accompanying senior officials dared not make a step, for none felt worthy of sharing the same floor level as him. “If you would indulge me, young soldier?”

  “The Atlantea Military Research Institute, the AMRI, sir.”

  Admiral Ulysses gave a nod of approval without saying anything. He seemed to have acknowledged this recruit’s existence for the first time.

  “Alright, gentlemen. We have overextended our time here. Let’s make a move.”

  The Admiral gave the recruit a parting glance before ascending the stairs. The staredown was painfully long, with no words exchanged for a long moment.

  “One last word of advice for you, soldier.”

  “Sir?”

  The Admiral smirked lightly before lifting his chin gently. “Treasure your gifts wisely because second chances don’t come by that often.”

  “Yes…sir.”

  “We will meet soon, Recruit Smith.”

  Admiral Ulysses turned his back and walked up the stands, where the Administrators escorted his group to their next location. As the senior officials left the vicinity, Neptune spoke softly to himself, quizzically, puzzled by the Admiral’s strange conduct toward the end.

  “See you soon, sir.”