"So we'd shoot you dead with one of those primitive projectile
weapons, as an object lesson for both you and the draftees we had
remaining."
I nodded and tried to show by my countenance how much I approved of
people being shot dead with primitive weapons.
"But suppose," he went on, "that you'd really cracked up or that you'd
faked successfully?"
"Yes, Sir?" Hope returned, hesitantly and on tip-toes, ready to flee.
"Then we'd cure you," he said. "But the cure unfortunately involves
the destruction of your higher mental faculties. And so there'd be
nothing for it but to ship you off to one of the mining planets. That's
standard procedure, if you didn't know. But I think you'll be all right
now, don't you?"
Hope fled. I assured him that I'd be just fine and reported back, on
the double, to my training platoon.
"Just in time, Ruxt," my Trontar greeted me. "Back for full duty, I
take it? That's the Haldorian spirit!" He turned to the platoon which
was lined up like three rows of sweaty statues. "Men, remember what
I told you about taking cover when you're under fire--and staying
under cover? Just suppose we suddenly came under fire--flat trajectory
stuff--out here on this flat exercise ground with no cover except in
that latrine pit over there. Would any of you hesitate to dive into
that latrine pit? And once in there, safe and sound, would any of you
not stay there until I gave the word to come out?"
A perceptible shudder passed like a wave over the platoon. We knew the
Trontar did not ask pointless questions.
"Of course you wouldn't," he assured us, "and you'd even stay in there
all day under this hot sun if you had to. Ruxt! You're rested and
refreshed from visiting the hospital. You demonstrate how it's done."
It was a long day, even though my Trontar kindly sent some sandwiches
over to me at high noon. I didn't eat much. But I did do a lot of
thinking.
* * * * *
There was one last hope. I wrote a letter to a remote clan relative who
was supposed to have a small amount of influence.
It was a moving letter. I told how my test results had been falsified,
what beasts our trainers were, how the medics refused to retest
me--very much the standard letter that new Haldorian trainees write.
As I went out to mail this plea, one evening, I met two of my fellow
trainees starting out on a night march in full field equipment.
"How come?" I asked, instantly fearful that I'd missed some notice on
the bulletin board.
"We wrote letters," one of them said simply.
"The Trontar censors all our mail," said the other. "Didn't you know?
Oh, well, neither did we."
As they marched off, I made a small bonfire out of my letter after
first, almost, just throwing it away--before I remembered that the
Hweetorals checked our waste cans. What a man has to do to hold two
measly stripes!
Acceptance of the inevitable is the beginning of wisdom, says the
ancient Haldorian sage. I put in an application for transfer to the
Statistical Services to be effective upon _completion_ of Basic Fighter
Course.
"Statistical Services?" the Company Clerk asked. "What's that? Anyhow,
you're going to be a Fighter Basic, if you get through this training,"
he said darkly. The Company Clerk was a sad victim of our Haldorian
passion for realistic training; he had lacked one day of completing
Fighter Basic when he'd let his leg dangle a bit too long after he'd
scaled a wall, and the training gentlemen had unemotionally shot it
off. As it turned out, our efficient surgeon/replacers had been unable,
for some technical reason, to grow back enough leg for full duty. So
there was nothing for it but to use the man as could be best done.
They'd made him a clerk--mainly because that was the specialty they
were shortest of at the time.
"Who says you can put in for Statistical Services?" the Company Clerk
demanded.
"Reg 39-47A." I was learning my way around. The night before I was on
orderly duty in the office. I had tracked down the chapter and verse
which, theoretically, allowed a man to change his destiny.
"Know the Regs, do you? Starting to be a trouble-maker, huh? Yeah,
Ruxt, I'll put in your application."