<continued from Part II>
* * *
It seemed like little or no time had passed since that fateful day that
Kyoko stepped once again onto solid ground; the shuttle ride down the well
enraptured her attention as the tangible form of the North Ameri-can Pacific
coast drew closer. As her face pressed against the shuttle�s viewport, a
smile progressively unfurled over her soft, youthful expression. Her return
to the loving fold of her family gave her a warm sense of security. Kyoko
could turn to that comforting feeling whenever confronted with the
dishearten-ing reminiscence of a life long since departed, and she relied
heavily on her family�s caring love to help lighten the burden adjusting to
the new life she now faced.
The first year had been an enormous culture shock for Linna, as far as
Uncle Hikaro and Aunt Kazumi could tell. Unlike most children of their age,
most of the school year of 2165-66 was spent in a local re-habilitation
center. The task of merely understanding their present environment, the
social mannerisms of the 22nd century, and the seventy-five years of history
that had slipped past them during their hyper-sleep was enough to preoccupy
a large portion of their time. Kyoko adjusted faster than her sister, whose
rapid mental and emotional maturity�the adolescence forced upon her�wreaked
havoc gradually on her mental health. Three times during the first five
months, Linna suffered from a nervous breakdown; as well as suffering from
fourteen instances of convulsions and violent fits. At one point, Linna was
given tests for autism or some other trauma-related mental deficiency, and
Kyoko was left alone as her sister was shipped off Okinawa and sent to an
intensive rehabilitation unit on the coast of San Fransisco.
So, for five months, Kyoko learned to play with the rest of her
"classmates," who were mostly children orphaned at birth, severely deformed
or physically disabled, or victims�as some rumors claimed�of ex-tensively
long hyper-sleeps like that of Kyoko. Her mind quickened and hardened, her
pre-adolescence lending to her ability to quickly adjust to the new world.
The last eight months of her term at the Saint-Just Rehabilitation Center
focused on bringing her up to a high-school freshman education level
(children now graduated from highschool at ages ranging from 16 to 20,
depending on the territorial educational system).
Finally, in the late fall of 2166, Uncle Hikaru and Aunt Kazumi took her
home. Not to their Okinawan estate�they kept that as a summer home for the
time being�but to a San Fransisco residence. Linna finally begun to adjust
somewhat to her surroundings, slowly drawing out of her extended,
traumatizing culture shock. Uncle Hikaru thought it best to move near the
rehab unit until Linna was ready to return home. By that time, she was
already demonstrating budding genius intelligence, and had a knack for
dis-course on academic and intellectual subjects. Unfortunately, her new
found talents failed her in the way of human relationships; the first years
of her life Earth resembled that of an autistic child, cut off by an
incorporeal barrier erected by her apparent inability to cope with human
relationships. Kyoko, on the other hand, acclimated easily to a social
lifestyle of fraternization and youthful friendships; more often than not,
Aunt Kazumi could look in from the kitchen and catch Linna staring
wonderously as Kyoko and her friends chatted about the multi-vid. The
conversation between Kyoko and her friends, Aunt Kazumi suspected, would�ve
only bored Linna�the irreverently inconsequential banter that it was.
Still, the con-sideration Linna offered Kyoko and her companions did not
simply boil down condescending dismissal�at least not all of the time.
Instead, Kazumi could have sworn she saw a wistful, longing gaze eminate
from the elder sister. It was almost as if Linna was trying to learn how to
make friends. Sometimes she�d interject something into one of Kyoko�s
conversations; but her comments often fell within the realm of curt, placid,
and off-topic. Consequently, Kyoko�s friends often payed Linna little
attention, and some-times made pointed, hurtful remarks in response, for
which Kyoko thoroughly scolded them for. To Ka-zumi�s bewilderment, Linna
simply returned to her introvert state, demonstrating neither contempt or
offense in response; that stage of her life hadn�t yet set in.
Linna�s self-isolation would continue until half way through her junior
year in high-school. At some point�Uncle Hikaru could never figure out just
when�Linna suddenly sparked into the outgoing and charismatic idol that
Kyoko once knew and adored. Only, this time, it wasn�t a Student Senate or
a Stu-dent-Faculty Function Committee. It was political activism�a sort
that Uncle Hikaru most certainly did not approve of. First, Linna began to
make many new girl-friends, usually with the inner-city children on the
South-western end of the city and as far as Los Angeles. A large part of
her time was spent with one of her many boyfriends anywhere far from San
Diego. Her experiences with romance comprised a sad, volumed account that
on more than one occasion involved abuse. A few suspected that the
disparity be-tween her physical maturityand her emotional maturity had been
exploited by one of Linna�s many thera-pists. However, Linna had always
vehemently denied these charges, just as she denied that she ever had been
involved in abusive relationships. On many occasions, she denied being in
any sort of romantic re-lationship at all. Whether or not it was true no
longer mattered to Uncle Hikaru. He had already noted that Linna had
developed an acute habit for lying.
Most of Linna�s new friends were rebellious youths; probably they were
responsible for sparking Linna�s interests in joining several controversial
activist groups during her senior year in high school. Kyoko watched as the
brief spark of happiness and friendliness her seemingly autistic sister had
demon-strated during her "coming out" phase dissipate into a rebellious,
antagonistic nihilism. More and more often, Linna and Uncle Hikaru would
fight on various things�particularly the military and aliens.
Linna hated aliens. Kyoko�twelve (chronologically) at the time�found it
far easier to associate with the Centauran and Elcop children who lived
nearby than Linna. When Linna was at Mercy Child Reha-bilitation and
Relocation, she had no friends to speak, but she showed an especial distate
for her non-human co-residents. Slowly and with mounting anger, Linna�s
nine months at Mercy CRR developed an acute hatred for her alien
"babysitters." Her noticable contempt for Kyoko�s alien playmates indicated
this developing enmity early on, but the Yatsumi family would remain in the
dark about the whole issue until Linna�s senior year.
She had left home for that period of time. After succeeding in gaining
her school district�s nomination for the 2167 Lunar University Experience
Program, Linna undisputingly packed up her room�along with plastic bags
filled with pamphlets from such organizations as Humanity Now!, REPEL, The
Terran Front, and even the Furies�an anti-Alien propoganda faction out of
Western Europe. Her primary studies of expertise�humanities like history
and psychology�turned her off to openly hateful organizations such as the
North-American Ku Klux Klan and Knights of the Aryan Guard. However, her
intellectual naivet� made her suspectible to the seductive rationale of
pseudo-politics and koanish psycho-babble�Uncle Hi-karu�s description.
Hikaru Yatsumi had spent twenty-five years of his life in service of the
Confederation, and he took great offense to Linna�s distaste for the
military. Hikaru had earned a great respect for the two great realities of
the Confederation�multiculturalism and war. To imagine that he failed to
instill the respect for these values in Linna hurt him immensely.
So after Linna had given up on reconciling their relationship, Hikaru
concentrated on lovingly rearing Kyoko. Kyoko differed from her sister in
that she absolutely adored outer space. Not "adored" in the sense of an
acute fondness�Kyoko�s veneration for the vacuum rivaled most love affairs.
By fourteen, she had completed three senior-rated courses in physics,
chemistry, and astrophysics, passing the Confed Regents examinations with
95%+ marks all three times. Her ferocious love for vast emptiness of space
seemed to defy all human logic and reasoning; even at the age of fourteen,
Kyoko was simply immobilized as she watched the sun rise over the North
American Midwest�from two-hundred and eighty miles above the surface, that is.
Naturally, her curiousity peaked every time the Defense Force recruiters
showed up. That�s not to say that originally, combat piloting had been on
her mind, but the military was the way to goif you wanted�and if you had
what it took�to fly the fastest and the best space-craft in the
Confederation. Back during her freshman year, Kyoko had toyed with the idea
of running away from home and shipping out on a freighter�a short lived
fantasy at best. At one point, she tried to enroll in the Junior Reserve
Officer Training Corps hosted at a nearby high-school in San Fransisco.
However, the family moved back to Hasake when she was fifteen, but the local
school district struck down a Junior ROTC program proposal years ago.
Despite Kyoko�s persistance, Aunt Kazumi had strong opinions regarding her
adopted daugh-ter�s propensity towards military service. Like Hikaru,
Kazumi was a veteran. However, unlike Hikaru, Kazumi had actually weathered
combat; a field nurse on detachment to a beseiged planetary during the final
days of the Marduk War. That one bloody encounter had poisoned her view
towards military service for life. Retiring as a staff sergeant after three
years of conscripted nursing, Kazumi dedicated a lot of her early
life�before meeting and marrying Hikaru�to anti-military activism. Maybe
that�s why, Kyoko would later assume, Kazumi was able to enjoy a far
stronger and closer relationship with Linna than ei-ther she or Uncle
Hikaru. Still, it was Linna who finally came to the decision to express
openly and vitri-olically her distaste for all things military; her aversion
stretched far beyond her aunt�s concern into out-right hatred for the
institution. It hardly seemed likely that she�d deviate from her viewpoint
by sophmore year in college, and Hikaru had grown to weary to debate the
issue. After all, he knew that sometime in their lives, both girls would
have to decide how they would live their lives�moving on from a life that
had wholly disappeared in this day and age.
As for Kyoko, it would be nearly all the way through her junior year
when she finally made her deci-sion.
It was a Monday, late in May of 2168. With the conclusion of the spring
break, classes would continue until early July�after which Kyoko would
return to North America to spend a summer with her sister. The letter had
come in the mail yesterday. Linna was attending New Bard University for her
graduate studies (she succeeded in winning her bachelors degree in just four
semesters!), and she had arranged for Kyoko to stay with her for a few weeks
to free Aunt Kazumi and Uncle Hikaru for a trip to Mars. As the spring
month drew to a close, Kyoko grew generally more and more anxious. Her
guardians assumed she was eager to see her sister and, time allowing, visit
her childhood friends in San Fransisco. Still, Kyoko knew deep down inside
that wasn�t the case. As she sat down for lunch that day in the
courtyard�alone this time�she emersed herself in the fullness of the
thoughts that circulated through her mind.
Her troubles started the Friday of last week. She had agreed to go to a
party held later that evening by her current boyfriend, a farmer�s son who
lived about ten minutes by air-car to the south of the school. The
following Saturday she was going on a weekend trip to the Macross Island
Memorial, located onbard a well-preserved Prometheus-class aircraft carrier
that marked the part of the Pacific Ocean that Macross Island used to
occupy. However, her mind had drifted away from thoughts about her upcoming
plans to a time earlier that day. She recalled the discussion she had had
with one of the recruiters�a Navy petty officer�that currently preoccupied
her thoughts. They arrived earlier that week, setting up for the pre-summer
recruiting campaign.
"Come on in." Kyoko had passed by the guidance office when they were
just setting up. The office had kindly installed a nice, visible little
cubicle for each recruiter and their materials. The compartments were about
the size of a closet-office, with a small desk and a few chairs around it.
The Navy cubicle was roomier than the others, which probably drew some
murmuring from the other service-branch recruiters just down the hall.
However, Kyoko wondered why the recruiter needed so much space in the first
place. Fewer and fewer students frequented the service offices around the
summer time, and her high-school wasn�t exactly known for producing
military-grade material. Of course, there were the occasional die-hard
fanboys who stopped in to argue all sorts of armchair general mumbo-jumbo.
Sometimes, a "normal" person�one who was interested more in the higher
education benefits the military offered rather than military service
itself�might peruse through the brochures. The popularity of Burn Bill
amongst high-school junior and senior students all over Terra had increased
over the past few years with DeForce Public Relation Office�s new
advertising campaign. Then there was Kyoko; curiousity simply got the best
of her. As far as Kyoko could tell, no one else had visited the Navy
cubicle at all; all if its literature was still neatly stacked in their
holders, and the chairs were still neatly arranged around desk. "Take a
seat. What�s your name?"
Kyoko hesitated before answering. As if she had failed to notice the
student�s taciturn expression, the petty officer handed her a blank
information card and something solid to write on. Using her own foun-tain
pen, Kyoko looked it over, making sure she didn�t have to sign anything
obligatory. Just check the box for a free subscription to some DeForce
brochures�nothing terribly important. Kyoko knew that some of her friends
who had graduated the year before had filled out such cards, simplying
playing with the idea of actually signing up. Those that actually acted on
their morbid curiourity were sent to Basic. Only one person Kyoko knew had
applied and gotten into a DeForce Academy.
The non-com took Kyoko�s card, looked it over, and then filed it into
her portable scanner. The optical reader immediately transcribed the
information into digital format and stored it for recall�s sake. Finally,
after checking a few things on her lap-top computer screen, the non-com
turned towards Kyoko, hoisted both elbows onto the table, and carefully
examined the high-school student before her. A long, drawn-out moment
passed in silence. Then, with a loud ahem, the PO 1/c commenced with her
presentation.
"As you probably know, we�re the space-ship end of things. Of course,
the Marines, Army and Aero-space Force have their own very teensy-weensy
ships�all piloted by us, of course. We, on the other hand, get the big
boys. As you may already know, our mission is partly to shuffle these guys
from place to place�space is one big vacuum, after all�but that�s just not
all we do. The Navy�s primary mission is controlling the skies above the
skies. That means orbital space, interplanetary space, and deepspace�namely
the hyperlanes. When you look up at night, the Navy is watching over
you...yaddy-yaddy-ya-ya.
"Now that all that�s out of the way, let me ask you. Why are you
interested in us?"
The question caught Kyoko off guard. First off, Kyoko didn�t think she
had expressed any interest be-yond sitting down to talk with the
recruiter�one that had beckoned her to do so in the first place. Sec-ondly,
she expected a far longer explication of the service�s mission, not some
mockingly pointed parody of a Navy recruiting commercial. Apparently, this
recruiter did not relish care to wade through a whole lot of bullshit.
Before Kyoko could answer, the rating was already speaking. "I get a
lot of kids in here nowadays asking me about the Gregori-Markhov Education
Order�that�s the Burn Bill to you. Most of �em are nice kids�good grades,
but not big-scholarship material�who need a solid source of financial aid if
they want to go off to study. But they�re only thinking about the
benefits�ancillary stuff. Not one�at least not since I�ve started this�has
ever considered what being a soldier is like. Still, I get others who are
looking for something to do for two years and have really no idea what
they�re signing up for. Then, we have those military-obsessed...er...damn.
It�s been a long time since I�ve spoken a word of Japanese."
"Otaku, ma�am," Kyoko offered. The non-com nodded approvingly.
"Yes, well they seem to have some borish fixation on war, but not one�s
considering actually signing up. Truth is they�re bright young men and
women�we could always use their already honed minds.
"Now, I�m not asking you to answer that question right now, but let me
give you a little idea of what you�d go through if you�d ever signed up.
Let�s say you sign up right here and now. First, you�re in for nine weeks
of Basic. That is, you�ll be sent to Port Merrymouth for two-and-a-half
months for some of the most vigorous, mind-hazing physical and mental
toughening there is. Do you have any idea what Basic is like, kid?"
"No, ma�am," Kyoko replied. Of course, she remembered her uncle�s and
aunt�s stories; ones that al-most gave her nightmares only a few years ago.
"It�s no day camp�that�s for damn sure�and don�t think for a minute that
the Navy is catering to soft, pot-bellied waffles. It�s disgusting how many
applications come across my desk from kids who want to go into the service
and not do anything�they get the impression that the only thing they�ll ever
have to do is ride on a spaceship for two years and then take home the
bacon. Miss, the Navy does NOT work that way.
"Let me put it this way. Let�s say someone not unlike yourself�we�ll
call her Jane�decides that she definitely wants to go into the Navy. First,
she�s shipped off to Port Merrymouth for Basic Training. Once checked in,
she has one hour to square away any issues with her family because she�s
about to spend the next eight weeks completely isolated from the outside
world. No newspapers, no television, no multi-vid�absolutely nothing.
She�ll be expected to learn to fall into formation. That is, into straight
lines organized into small groups we call squads, which are stacked onto
each other to organize into boot pla-toons, and likewise to form boot
companies. Furthermore, she�ll be handled by Marines�hardcore badasses each
and every one of �em�for the first two weeks of her training. Reveille is
at 0430h�four thirty in the morning�and she will be in formation for
physical fitness with no excuses�and I mean NO excuses�within five minutes
of reveille. Realistically, you better be in line when the horn goes up;
and woe betide the recruit that misses the horn. Ten mile runs every
morning and right after lunch. In be-tween, she�ll handle tight formation
training for hours-on-end under the beating sun burning overhead. Most of
the time, Jane will be eating MREs, the most goddamned foolish invention to
come along since soap-on-a-rope. Yes, Ma�am. There ain�t nothing like
half-cooked spam and soggy beans to hit the spot. When she does get to eat
inside, her meal is over as soon as her drill instructor stands up. It
won�t take him more than one-and-a-half to two minutes to wolf down a
balanced meal, and whether she likes it or not, it won�t take her more than
that either. After Jane�s afternoon P.T., she�ll head back to the barracks
for a forty-five minute personal period. That�s, of course, if she doesn�t
screw up and spark the D.I.; if so, she�ll end up jogging around the base
(the smallest at least ten miles in circumfrence) from thirteen hun-dred
�til kingdom come every Sunday. The forty-five minutes of free time she
gets each day will not be �goof-off� time or �socializing time.� Jane will
write home to her parents; it�s not only encouraged, but the first day it�s
required if you want to eat dinner. And you will eat dinner.
"That�s just the first week, in the best case scenario. Each week, it
gets harder and harder�deliberately and purposefully, and I haven�t even
gone into how you�ll be treated. It seems that most kids lose a handle on
military service because they can�t adjust from their Joe Civvy lifestyle.
And, once you�re in, you sweat it out or die trying. There�s no resignation
other than discharge�and then, you�ll either go out as a convicted felon, a
cripple, or dead. There is no "safety honorable discharge" or "good conduct
discharge" from boot.
"Once the fourth week hits, then Jane will be shipped out to the Terran
Navy. Wet-navy ain�t that much different from a space navy, except it�s a
whole lot easier to chuck your lunch on a rolling sea-goer. At that point
she�s a spaceman training-recruit, the lowest rung on the rating scale.
Hell, the only reason it�s used is to plop Jane somewhere in the �chain of
command.� That�s not to say Jane actually gets to do any commanding, or any
authority trickles down to her�the only thing that trickles on Jane will be
the piss-wrath of a spaceman recruit whose gotten a bit big for his
britches. No one gives two cents about what she thinks or how she feels,
and no one�ll think twice of dumping a whole can of shit in her lap and
wiping the rest off the deck with her pretty little ass. Not that much
different from spaceman recruit; of course, a spaceman recruit�s a human
being. Now get this, if every single naval officer, non-com, and enlisted
person �board Jane�s vessel suddenly bought the farm�maybe some REALLY big
fish comes up and chews the hell out of everybody, from the skipper to Chief
McWazzit�s snot-nosed electro-tech third-class, Jane would not only take
command, but she�d be expected to give orders to everybody underneath her.
That�s absolutely no one, remember? Not only will she buy the farm, but
someone else on another ship will probably be placing some highly
inappropiate bets on that damned fish.
"And if you think this boot hazing�s going to make a pisser out of your
day, the hazing REAL combat throws your way is going to make a real shithole
out of your day. The Navy is not a free ride. Nor is it a hide-out, a
social club, or a free-ticket to see the universe. You will see the grey
and white bulkheads, if you�re into that sort of thing. The service is
hell, kid. We�re not some welfare program for people look-ing for a free
lunch. The key word, Ms...er�Yatsumi, right? Okay. The key word, Ms.
Yatsumi, is service. Jane serves, I serve, and if you can�t deal with the
idea of serving�and sacrificing�then you�re wasting both yours and my time.
"So, I�ll ask you again. Why are you interested in us?"
Kyoko was perfectly stunned, unable to blink, think, or say anything as
she struggled to bring herself out of her paralysis. She stuttered for a
moment, but caught herself and let the next few moments pass by in tense
silence.
"Well, spit it out."
With that, Kyoko took out her piloting license and handed it over to the
Navy non-com. Why it had suddenly occurred to her to do so baffled her
completely. Looking back, Kyoko could never quite figure out what sort of
irrational, mental concoction incited her to such action. True, she toyed
around with the idea of flying combat, but Kyoko dismissed the fascination
as a silly fancy she had entertained as a child. Still, could it have been
simply that all this time...
...had she set off down this road simply because she loved flying?
So, Kyoko�s expression almost exactly mimicked that of the Navy petty
officer�s astonished gaze. After the non-com examined the
license�particularly Kyoko�s civvy flight rating and hour accumulation�she
placed it back on the desk and slowly slid it back over to Kyoko. The
high-school student puzzledly and cautiously leaned over and retrieved the
license, sliding it back into her purse.
"How long have you been flying?"
"Eight years, ma�am."
"VTs?"
"A trainer, a few times when I was thirteen." Her license specifically
noted that she had passed the dif-ficult civilian Veritech piloting test.
News corporations and other shipping businesses had purchased ci-vilian
models of the VA-4 Nightstalker, a tandem-seated attack Veritech. However,
Kyoko�s license spe-cifically noted her ability to hand antique military
VTs. Truly astonishing.
The non-com paused momentarily, sifting through her thoughts. Her gaze
remained fixed on Kyoko for sometime before she actually spoke. During that
time, the young pilot felt a great deal of unease and confusion. The
non-com had changed her demeanor altogether, from the cynical and talkative
recruiter to the analytical, silent officer-type. Was this the type of
mental discipline the military cultivated?
"Would you mind waiting here a second, Miss...er...Yatsumi?"
"No problem, ma�am."
The petty officer rose to her feet, walked around her desk and exited
the cubicle. Before the door closed, Kyoko could see a Terran Navy spaceman
recruit accompanying the Navy petty officer hand off a cellular commlink to
the non-com. Swiftly, Kyoko jerked her head about and held her gaze against
the non-com�s empty cubicle desk and seat. Not daring to stand-up, less she
was in some sort of trouble, Kyoko tried to see if she could read some of
the notes the non-com had jotted down on an old-style paper notepad.
Nothing terribly legible, except for her last name: YATSUMI.
The non-com returned nearly fifteen minutes later; although Kyoko was
way late for her nineth period class, she dared not leave the
cubicle�something was definitely up. With her was a pastic portfolio, with
an official transcript appended to it. Furthermore, the petty officer was
still talking with someone on the commlink. "So, can I do this? Well, ask
him! Wait, just put him on. Chief, this is Bosun One-Cee Izo. Did
Astronaut Miller explain the situ�oh, he did? Well, I�m looking over her
transcript right now. Chief, mind if I call back in ten minutes. I�ll have
completed my interview by then. Yes, Chief. Thanks. Izo out."
Kyoko simply sat, thoroughly puzzled, throughout this entire exchange;
clueless to what was happen-ing. As far as she knew, her piloting license
had sparked the recruiter�s interest for some obscure reason. If it was
about flying, Kyoko could forget it. She didn�t want to go through Basic
knowing that most en-listed ratings would never�
Then, the sudden realization hit her.
"Kyoko," this time, the non-com spoke softly. "I�m looking at your
transcript here. Do you understand that the Navy and the Aerospace Force
are co-sponsering a Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps pro-grams in the
Northern State�I think it�s around New Kashigawa or Naha�starting this summer?"
"I�m afraid not," Kyoko nodded her head. As transportation
techniques�particularly in the 22nd cen-tury�improved over time, high-school
Junior ROTC eventually faded into regional conglomeration. Of-ten, two or
more branches would participate in honing young, high-school students to be
eligible for mili-tary service at the Academies or officer candidate
schools, or ROTC-standing at a university or some other institute of higher
learning.
"Would you be interested?"
"Ma�am?"
"Listen to me, Kyoko," the non-com�s tone had changed completely now.
"What I said before, about basic training and all that. It�s not the end of
the world, although it�s the damn-closest thing to it you�ll ever
experience. However, there�s another option besides deck-swabbing space-bee
duty for you, some-thing I hope you�ll seriously consider. When you walked
into this room, I knew immediately there was something about you. At first,
I figured maybe you were genuinely interested in enlisting�not necessarily
just one term of service either. However, when you pulled out that pilot�s
license, you gave yourself one hell of a pat on the back."
"I�ve thoroughly studied your record," Kyoko was slightly taken back.
While the non-com had been absent for sometime, she hardly considered Petty
Officer Izo had the time to have thoroughly studied anything. However, she
decided not to dispute this; and as Izo continued, the reason became far
more apparant as to why not. "You�re an honor student, 3.9
grade-point-average. Global Standardized Test Score in the 97th percentile,
and at least three secondary school citations for excellence.
"If you�re serious about entering the service, this ROTC program is for
you. You already fit the aca-demic requirements, and by looking at you, it
seems the physical side wouldn�t be terribly difficult. Un-derstand this,
however. ROTC means you will not be going to Port Merrymouth. No, you�ll
be spending a year in Officer Candidate School or four years in a Defense
Force Academy. Why? Because, when you leave those grounds, I�ll have to
call you sir and I better have a damn good reason to do so.
"So, you have three choices, you can either take the enlistment papers
and run with that�if you ever want to fly, it�ll be only after at least
seven years of service. During peace-time, not even half of our men make
that threshold. You can leave now and forget about this whole blasted mess...
"Finally, you could try Junior ROTC. Once you graduate, you�re
automatically under consideration for one of the Academy student cadres, or
you will be immediately assigned to the ROTC unit nearest your chosen
institute of higher learning (assuming that A: you remain in the program,
and B: you do go to continue your education). If you enlist after
completing Junior ROTC, you will have the option to apply one of the
positions at an OCS program after two months. It is possible�and
frequent�for enlisted rat-ings to be recommended and shuttled to OCS prior
to the that�especially if they have your sort of merit. However,
ROTC-standing will not affect the admissions for early applicants, nor will
it guarantee any preference by any selection board.
"Still, if you make it, you would be an officer, the cultivated leader
of enlisted rates like myself. I�m sure of it�you have the standing right
now and you already have flight experience. Currently, we have a real derth
in Navy pilots�as compared to the Aerospace Force or the Marine Corps. Do
you have any questions?"
The two continued to discuss Kyoko�s prospects in the military, from
ground zero and up through the ranks, for the next thirty minutes. Guidance
called her nineth and tenth period classes, explaining why she was absent
and excusing her from class. This brooked enough time for Kyoko to gather
enough in-formation to ponder upon later on. However, despite the keen
interest in the ROTC program she began to display as her session with the
recruiter drew to a close, there was still a gnawing feeling holding her back.
That�s why, by Monday, she had yet to complete the registration form.
As Kyoko browsed through the contents of her lunch, sitting under the shade
of the slightly deformed palm tree that dominated the scene on the grassy
knoll. Looking down the hill, she could see some of her classmates
gathering around the common tables just outside of the cafeteria�probably to
play a new fantasy role-playing game or try-out a newly-released holo-vid
adventure. Kyoko smiled in realization that she had packed on of those
personal holo-visions in her pack, and placed down her sandwich to remove
it. Snapping the headset down into her thick mane of hair, she popped in a
small laser-disc�about twice the size of a quarter�into the drive-slot.
However, it wasn�t a video game, nor was it a movie or a favorite
multi-vision show she recorded.
The label said it all�ROTC: THE PATHWAY TO LEADERSHIP AND SUCCESS.
Right then, alone and with plenty of time to consider her thoughts,
Kyoko had reached a decision; one that would not only change her life but
eventually the lives of millions of others. Her journey was finally underway.
The school year of 2167-68 eventually came to a close, and Kyoko handed
in her registration form. Without once consulting her uncle or aunt, Kyoko
went ahead and planned out her senior year schedule, making sure the science
and mathematics courses she needed were on the list and that several
humanities courses�particularly college-level Confederation History�would be
available to her next year. Finally, she called up Petty Officer Izo,
who�during that last week of school�was completing her presentations in the
Murima school district, about thirty kilometers south of Hasake. They met
in Kyoko�s coastal resi-dence, and Izo personally introduced the young
senior chief petty officer who served as an adjutant to the Pacifica-East
Asian Junior ROTC commandant. A week later, Kyoko reported to the Okinawa
ROTC office in Neo-Fujigiri, registering for form enrollment in July. By
August, she was participating in the basic training experience that Izo had
so eloquently described. While not nearly as strenuous as Port Mer-rymouth
Basic, the Junior ROTC experience would build Kyoko up to the level of
fitness and training expected of any candidate applying for admission to the
Academy. Afterwards, the prepping she had re-ceived would serve her well in
a far more physically and psychologically wracking experience than even
Basic could provide�that of the service itself.
Finally, graduation came around�with her uncle and aunt still in the
dark�at the end of June the fol-lowing year. For the entire school year of
�68-69, Kyoko managed to keep her military prep training a complete secret;
especially from her sister. It wasn�t until the day that Linna left for a
summer session at her university that her younger sister would break the news.
It was the first Monday in July, during typically humid and hot time for
tropical Okinawa. Kyoko stood in a two-piece ensamble, waving from the
sunbathing deck of the Yatsumi Okinawan estate. Her hair, a somewhat rusted
but lush color dark brown, had been styled into a bun, with two long
tressles hanging over her temples and immediately prior to her ears; a style
she had cultivated since she first came here. Looking over the banister,
she watched from behind her sunglasses as twenty-year old Linna Yatsumi
looked up and returned the gesture. A bus had pulled up to the curb and was
accepting the numerous of college students that had returned home for the
holidays. "Summer vacation" for Linna was over, and she would return to her
classes at Bard by the first week in July.
Kyoko shrugged the as thoughts of her recent graduation flutter in her
mind. Rising from her reclined deck-couch, Kyoko joined her uncle and
aunt, Kasumi, on the veranda. As soon as Linna had hugged her aunt and
Kyoko, she stared long into her uncle�s deep, black eyes. Her long black
hair had been cut short, in a rather traditional style thought to have died
out decades ago.
"Goodbye, Sir," she said tersely. Linna had always called him sir, and
always with that cold and im-passive inflection that merely sharpened the
rebellious edge in her tone. No matter how much Hikaru tried to make
friends with his new "daughter," she would refuse his friendship and keep to
herself. They coldly shook hands, with Kasumi wearing a rather worried look
on her face. Linna�s eyes darkened as she left for the bus, waving one last
time as if to hide the tense moment she had shared with her uncle. As the
bus pulled silently down the street, Kyoko heard her uncle mutter under his
breath, "Now there goes one rebellious child."
Life had been hard on both of them, Hikaru had always thought. This was
not their time, no more than it was his. All of their friends and
acquaintences were gone...or dead. Linna had somehow found friends in this
new life. However, her uncle did not approve of them. They were a
antagonizing and nihilistic bunch, protesting anything and everything.
Linna often came home with bags full of propaganda. Maybe that�s why she
excelled so in school, Kyoko had thought. Linna had been so into the world
that she took everything she learned and applied it to her "revolutionary"
persona. A philosophy major in one of the North American Quadrant�s most
esteemed universities (which applied to most universities on Earth that had
survived the Robotech holocausts), she had become even more radical in her
views, often marching in protests, despite their purpose or theme. Always
protesting, always living the life of a rebel.
Would her skills and talents help her then? Kyoko then pondered of her
own future, and the news she would deliver tonight.
A few hours later, they sat down for dinner. A rain storm had moved in,
so that ate inside tonight.
"Uncle?" Dinner was excellent. While Linna hadn�t been able to stay for
her own goodbye party din-ner, Kyoko and Hikaru feasted heartily on Aunt
Kasumi�s ox-tail stew. The old man looked up from his naked bowl as Kasumi
peered from the kitchen to the dining room.
"Yes?" Having actually looked up and making eye-contact made it even
more difficult for her. Uncle Hikaru knew that the tone in which she used
his title was the one she used when she desired something, something that
only he could give her. Both had an idea what it was.
"You know that scholarship confidence application I got from OJIT three
weeks ago?"
"Yes, and we�re very proud of you," Hikaru smiled, dipping into his stew
again. "What about it?"
"I know that I�ve often said I was..uhh..I liked engineering stuff, right?"
This time Kasumi spoke, taking a seat between her husband and Kyoko.
Hikaru took a swig of his sake, and cleared his throat. "You have another
choice? With your grades, you probably could get into the Mutan Science
Institute, or even�"
"No uncle," she interrupted him. Silence. Never before had Hikaru been
interrupted by his own niece. Never.
"Kyoko? what is it, dear?" Kasumi looked worriedly. "Don�t you want to
go to university?"
"Yes, Aunt Kasumi," she lowered her head, breaking eye contact.
Breathing deeply, she snapped up and removed something from under her
seating pillow.
"Uncle. What I�m trying to say is...." The words faltered, as she
dipped her head again, searching for a better explanation. How could she
break this to them. All those years they thought she was excelling in the
molecular structure of duranium alloy, when she was in fact�
Sighing heavily, she stood up, much to her guardians� surprise. She
whipped a brochure and thrust it in their faces.
"This is an application for the Mars Defense force Academy," she
announced in one quick splurt. "They sent it for me after I mailed in my
school reports. Uncle, Aunt. I�ve been..I was in the Junior ROTC program
up at Kashigawa�every weekend and summers. Not the Bio-Experience program.
If I accept, my midshipman spot is almost guaranteed."
This brought on a silence, one more painful than the former. She sat
down, lowering her head, and only lifting her eyes to cursorily glance
around the room. She remembered that day, months ago, where she had forged
the signature on the permission slip that she had been too afraid to deliver
to her guardi-ans.
Kasumi looked at her in a way the way she looked at Linna those times
she had talked back to her. The times she had cursed and spittled on her.
Kyoko had always been the favorite of the of the 87-year old woman. In
fact, she had become the closest thing to a mother that Kyoko could cling
to, especially through her rehibilitation to this new time. The face she
wore, one of shock, and of hurt, stung deeper than any knife. For a moment,
Kyoko considered tearing the application and forgetting this foolish�
�it wasn�t foolish. She knew that. She had wanted to do this. Aunt
Kasumi had expressed her dis-pleasure with the fleet, as had Hikaru. Kyoko
and Kasumi had lost their fathers to space, and Kasumi couldn�t bare to lose
the newest cherishable in her life.
"Uncle, I have always loved to fly�"
"No!" Kasumi cried out, but her voice sounded broken. "Hikaru! You
just can�t let her�"
Hikaru lifted his hand, and his wife�s plea turned to a scowl. She
looked away from both of them.
Kyoko nervously adjusted her loose tank-top. Her uncle gazed upon her
with such ferocity that she felt she would burst into flames.
"Flying isn�t a really good reason to take such a step," Hikaru pointed
out, surprisingly calm. It was difficult to begrudge the elder man, but
Kyoko had expected the fierce rage that she had only seen Linna encounter,
and defy. Hikaru had never yelled at her�he had reprimended her in the
times she got in trouble, but always in a calm, fashionable tone.
Kyoko�s face seemed to sink. "Sir," she began respectively. "I have
always wanted to join the Fleet. Every since I was�"
"A little girl. I do remember," Hikaru intoned. Kyoko knew why, and
old memories came back. "Do you really think that you can handle this?"
Kasumi glared at him, as if he were trying to slay her in one cruel
blow. "Hikaru. You know what happens out there. What if a war starts?
Why does she have to be part of it?"
Hikaru did not answer, turning his gaze towards his adopted daughter.
"Ki-chan," he finally spoke up. "What you do, it is not what we see to
be your best interests..."
Kyoko nodded, and held back the tears that were in her eyes. She wanted
this more than the world, more than anything. It was the only way she could�
"...but, you are now old enough to choose your own path," Hikaru
finished. It took a few moments for it to set in, and when it finally had,
Kyoko�s head snapped up with a wide grin. She leaped from her table and
kissed her uncle on the cheek.
"Oh, thank you!" Hikaru coughed in exaspiration.
"Don�t kill your uncle, Ki-chan," Kasumi said impassively. A few tears
rolled down her cheek, and Kyoko�s guilt fled back into her. But then, a
grin opened on her aunt�s face. "He�s mine. Just be careful out there, all
right?"
"I will, mom," she said, emphasizing the last word as she had not done
before. For the first time in her life, she would choose her own destiny,
and her own path in life.
"Come now, child," Hikaru patted her back. "Registration�s due in
August. You�ve got more than enough work cut out for you..."
* * *
+-----------------+-<The Badass Reverend of Funk Prez>---+
| Presley H. | Political Science / Computer Science |
| Cannady II | and Electrical Engineering Undergrad |
|<revprez@mit.edu>| at the Mass. Institute of Technology |
+-----------------+-<Anime Manga Development Group>------+
+ Author of Liars and Dreamers, a Robotech fanfic +
+-------<http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/1731/index.html>-+
| MIDN 4/c A-2-2 SQD, MIT-Harvard-Tufts NROTC Battalion |
|_|"The art of war is of vital importance to the state"|_|