down in front of every recruit and the spots where recruits should have been.
On the tray was what Brent guessed was food. On the right side of the tray was a flattish red square. It jiggled a bit when he touched it. On the left, separated by utensils from the red blob, was a dirt brown cube. It did not jiggle when he touched it. Ignoring the chatter of the division leaders, Brent took a slice of the red blob first. It was overly sweet and was far tougher to chew than he anticipated. It was a rubbery substance tasting of synthetic flavors designed to hide some form of nutrition that was probably as hard to pronounce as it was to chew. Surprisingly, the dirt cube was far easier to chew but it did, in fact, taste like dirt.
“When they promised you square meals you didn’t think they were being literal, did you?” a division leader asked. “D rations. Glorious aren’t they? Enough to keep you alive, but you’ll wish your taste buds were dead when you eat it. Join our division and I can promise you you’ll never have to taste it again,” he boasted.
The recruits all pulled out their pads, some excitedly, others begrudgingly. Brent followed suit and slowly removed his pad from his pocket. As soon as it was clear of the pocket, it was snatched from his hands from behind. Turning, Brent found a division leader in pink and white holding his pad, quickly going through it.
“Sorry boys, you snooze you lose. This one is signing up with the SF.” The division leader stuck out her tongue at the others.
“You can’t do that, Tyra! He never agreed to it!” a division leader in tan and green protested.
“And what do you need him for anyway?” a division leader shouted from behind Brent. “You are going against the FF on your trial. You could blindfold your entire division and still advance!”
Several division leaders chuckled while a couple tried to wrestle the pad away.
“My friends, we’ve been beaten to the punch!” Tyra said disappointedly.
“What are you talking about? When would anyone have had the chance?” The tan and green division leader eyed Brent.
“Forget when. Who had the nerve to be so underhanded?” a division leader in purple and tan asked.
“Doesn’t say.” Tyra shrugged. “It just lists him as assigned. Better luck after the trial I suppose.”
The other division leaders reluctantly returned their attention to the other recruits.
“Don’t get comfy; I don’t give up so easily.” Tyra winked at Brent as she dropped the pad in his lap. “You’ll be mine one of these days. Count on it.”
“Looks like you’ve made a friend, sir,” Dante said between bites.
Remembering Humphrey’s suggestion, Brent returned to his meal. After some experimentation, he found the meal almost enjoyable when he mixed the two squares. While he polished off the meal, the other recruits and division leaders talked in circles. It sounded like a group of salesmen trying to sell flood insurance to a group of desert nomads. As Brent forced down the last bite, he noticed the chatter was quieting. Perhaps the other recruits had finished their negotiations, and they could focus on the next few exams.
“So this is where the little ones are hiding,” a harsh voice announced.
Brent turned to face the new voice. Its owner had a square jaw lined with a thin but thick beard. He couldn’t tell if the face was scowling or if the eyebrows were simply poorly groomed. A wicked smile pulled at the mouth as it spoke.
“What do you want, Reggie?” a division leader asked bitterly.
“Nothing that concerns you. I suggest you all return to your meals before they get cold. Well, colder,” Reggie replied coolly.
“And what if we don’t listen to your suggestion?” Tyra asked calmly.
“Well, that might upset my friends. And you wouldn’t want that, now would you, Tyra?” Reggie smiled sinisterly.
As if they had been
On the tray was what Brent guessed was food. On the right side of the tray was a flattish red square. It jiggled a bit when he touched it. On the left, separated by utensils from the red blob, was a dirt brown cube. It did not jiggle when he touched it. Ignoring the chatter of the division leaders, Brent took a slice of the red blob first. It was overly sweet and was far tougher to chew than he anticipated. It was a rubbery substance tasting of synthetic flavors designed to hide some form of nutrition that was probably as hard to pronounce as it was to chew. Surprisingly, the dirt cube was far easier to chew but it did, in fact, taste like dirt.
“When they promised you square meals you didn’t think they were being literal, did you?” a division leader asked. “D rations. Glorious aren’t they? Enough to keep you alive, but you’ll wish your taste buds were dead when you eat it. Join our division and I can promise you you’ll never have to taste it again,” he boasted.
The recruits all pulled out their pads, some excitedly, others begrudgingly. Brent followed suit and slowly removed his pad from his pocket. As soon as it was clear of the pocket, it was snatched from his hands from behind. Turning, Brent found a division leader in pink and white holding his pad, quickly going through it.
“Sorry boys, you snooze you lose. This one is signing up with the SF.” The division leader stuck out her tongue at the others.
“You can’t do that, Tyra! He never agreed to it!” a division leader in tan and green protested.
“And what do you need him for anyway?” a division leader shouted from behind Brent. “You are going against the FF on your trial. You could blindfold your entire division and still advance!”
Several division leaders chuckled while a couple tried to wrestle the pad away.
“My friends, we’ve been beaten to the punch!” Tyra said disappointedly.
“What are you talking about? When would anyone have had the chance?” The tan and green division leader eyed Brent.
“Forget when. Who had the nerve to be so underhanded?” a division leader in purple and tan asked.
“Doesn’t say.” Tyra shrugged. “It just lists him as assigned. Better luck after the trial I suppose.”
The other division leaders reluctantly returned their attention to the other recruits.
“Don’t get comfy; I don’t give up so easily.” Tyra winked at Brent as she dropped the pad in his lap. “You’ll be mine one of these days. Count on it.”
“Looks like you’ve made a friend, sir,” Dante said between bites.
Remembering Humphrey’s suggestion, Brent returned to his meal. After some experimentation, he found the meal almost enjoyable when he mixed the two squares. While he polished off the meal, the other recruits and division leaders talked in circles. It sounded like a group of salesmen trying to sell flood insurance to a group of desert nomads. As Brent forced down the last bite, he noticed the chatter was quieting. Perhaps the other recruits had finished their negotiations, and they could focus on the next few exams.
“So this is where the little ones are hiding,” a harsh voice announced.
Brent turned to face the new voice. Its owner had a square jaw lined with a thin but thick beard. He couldn’t tell if the face was scowling or if the eyebrows were simply poorly groomed. A wicked smile pulled at the mouth as it spoke.
“What do you want, Reggie?” a division leader asked bitterly.
“Nothing that concerns you. I suggest you all return to your meals before they get cold. Well, colder,” Reggie replied coolly.
“And what if we don’t listen to your suggestion?” Tyra asked calmly.
“Well, that might upset my friends. And you wouldn’t want that, now would you, Tyra?” Reggie smiled sinisterly.
As if they had been
Similar Books
