Pursuing Dreams (The Young Soldier Book 1) Read online

Something moved to their left. It was Michael. He lay on the edge of the clearing, body twitching slightly. “Michael!” Don gasped and bolted toward the boy.

  Michael’s eyes were open. They locked on Don, panic clearly showing. He was clutching at his chest as he struggled to breathe. He needed a doctor. He needed a doctor quickly.

  “Ty, run and get the sergeant!” Don said as he knelt beside the gasping boy. Each breath accompanied by a horrible wheezing sound that twisted Don’s stomach into knots. It took a moment for Don to realize Tyson hadn’t moved. Once he did, Don looked up at his friend. “You’re the fastest runner. Go get the sergeant!”

  Tyson didn’t even acknowledge that Don had spoken. He was standing over Michael, a strange look on his face. Don’s breath caught in his chest. He stood slowly and grabbed the front of Tyson shirt, forcing Tyson to look at him. “You would trade this boy’s life for a grudge? That’s pathetic,” Don spat, and then turned toward Roberto in disgust. “Start carrying him back. I’m going for Sergeant Cohan.”

  Don left the clearing at a sprint, throat clenched in fear as the rest of his insides burned in anger toward his friend. Friend. The word goaded him as he thought it, spurring him to run faster. As his feet found the Cake-Walk path, Don grabbed the trunk of a sapling, using it to whip himself in the right direction without losing any of his speed.

  Don clenched his teeth as he felt his muscles begin to cramp. He sucked in another breath and pushed forward. He barely noticed when the trees no longer surrounded him, or when the path straightened into the flat quarter-mile stretch.

  He slammed into the door of the sergeant’s office, unable to stop before reaching it. Sergeant Cohan was already halfway out of his seat when Don tumbled into the room. Leaning against the desk for support, he finally got enough air in his lungs to wheeze, “Michael…trouble…”

  His legs began to shake, and Don found that a cup of water was being shoved into his hand. He had a moment to realize his hand was shaking, too, before the cup slipped from his fingers and crashed onto the desk.

  “Trainee O’Hara!” Don looked up. The voice demanded his attention. “Report!” Don coughed before trying again. “Michael… on the mountain… medic… can’t breathe… attacked by…” Don shook his head. He didn’t know.

  “Where?” Cohan demanded.

  “Two kilometers… up the Cake-Walk…” The sergeant busied himself immediately, calling someone. Don’s legs gave out, and he sank to the floor, breaths coming in ragged gasps. He leaned gratefully back against the front of Cohan’s desk as he slowly regained control of his lungs.

  “Trainee O’Hara.”

  “Yes, sir!” Don croaked, and scrambled to get his shaky limbs underneath him. His muscles and joints informed him creakily that they did not agree to such use. Don ordered his legs to stand firm and faced the sergeant.

  “Medics are on the way to find your classmate. In the meantime, I want to know everything that happened.”

  Don blinked. Everything? His mind flashed back to Tony and Tyson fighting and then Michael getting caught up in it. A squabble getting that far out of hand would only cause the sergeant to dole out a punishment to the company. After the seeing the rest of the boys’ attitudes toward the situation back on the Cake-Walk, Don wasn’t sure they would take this lying down.

  “What seems to be the problem, trainee?” The sergeant’s eyes bored into Don’s.

  “Nothing, sir,” Don lied. “I’m sorry, sir.” How was he going to explain why only the five of them had been attacked by those things, if he didn’t tell the reason behind why they were separated.

  “Then get on with it,” ordered the sergeant. “I don’t have all day.”

  “Yes, sir.” He licked his lips as his mind raged in battle, searching for an answer and the willpower to use it. Was he really prepared to lie to his superior?

  “We were about two kilometers up the Cake-Walk when...” Don hesitated for a moment and then made up his mind. “When Trainee Wess tripped, sir. Trainees Wess, Inez, Namm, Antony, and I were separated from the company. We continued to run, hoping to catch up with the others at the top. Trainees Wess, Namm, and Antony were a little ahead of Trainee Inez and me. We heard shouting and followed the sound off the Cake-Walk, where we found others being attacked by some kind of insect…”

  Don frowned as he failed to find a name for them. “Honestly sir, I do not know what they were. However, Trainee Antony was struggling to breathe.” The image of Tyson standing over Michael’s form moved to the forefront of his thoughts and a sick feeling entered Don’s stomach. Don shook his head; no, there was no point in telling that. “Trainee’s Namm, Wess, and Inez began to carry Trainee Antony back while I ran on ahead to inform you of the situation, sir.” Don took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d said it now. There was no going back.

  The sergeant looked at him critically. Don felt very small under his gaze. “You are sure this is what happened? Sometimes things get scrambled when first being recalled. I wouldn’t be surprised if you needed to amend part of your statement.”

  Don bit the inside of his lip. The sergeant knew, then, and he was providing a way out for Don. He stuck out his chin and locked eyes with the sergeant. “Yes, sir. This is what happened, as well as I can remember it.”

  The sergeant sighed. “Very well. If you will please accompany me to the infirmary, on the way I would like you to describe to me what it was that attacked you.” Don nodded and followed the sergeant out into

  the morning light.

  Chapter 6

  July 19, 625 T.A.

  It didn’t take long to get to the infirmary. As big as the grounds were, the buildings were close together. Tony, Roberto, and Tyson were already there, perched on the ends of three beds as if they didn’t want to touch them. They jumped up and came to attention when they saw the sergeant enter the building.

  “As you were,” the sergeant ordered, and the three boys relaxed, although they didn’t retake their seats. Don didn’t blame them. It seemed silly to claim a bed when they were all obviously fine. The doctor had no doubt ordered them here. “Where are the doctor and Trainee Antony?” the sergeant asked. Roberto pointed to a bed farther down that had a retractable wall around it.

  “There, sir.” A slight murmur Don hadn’t noticed before was coming from that direction.

  The sergeant nodded. “Then we will wait.”

  Don glanced at Sergeant Cohan and then eased around him to go stand by the others. He managed to position himself beside Tony and Roberto, avoiding Tyson’s look at all costs. No one spoke as they waited. The sergeant’s presence was enough to silence any conversation.

  Finally, a doctor emerged from behind the curtain. The woman glanced toward the boys, and her eyes lit on Don and the sergeant. “This is the fifth?” she asked, glancing at Don.

  Sergeant Cohan nodded. The doctor motioned to Don, who walked over to her. After a quick checkup, in which she took note of the scrapes and bruises Don had accumulated earlier, she pronounced Don would live. Afterward, she pulled Sergeant Cohan to the side to speak with her.

  Don waited till the two were as far away as they would get before he turned to his three companions. He had no time to lose. “The sergeant’s gonna ask you guys about what happened. He’s already questioned me. I told him Tony tripped, we got caught up in it, and that’s why we got separated, okay?”

  The three boys stared at him for a moment before Roberto found his mouth and voiced what they were all thinking. “What?”

  “Tony tripped, or you don’t know what happened.” Don whispered urgently. “Don’t say anything about the fight.”

  “Why?” There was rebellion in Tyson’s voice.

  “Just say it!” Don hissed. “If you don’t, it’ll only get us in more trouble, and I’m screwed, okay?”

  “Fine, but why do I have to take the fall?” Tony asked.

  Don glanced over at two adults who had started walking toward them again. “Because it was as close to t
he truth as I could get and keep us out of trouble.”

  The sergeant was now too close for them to continue the conversation. Don wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Roberto looked indecisive, Tyson rebellious, and Tony annoyed. Don sighed inwardly. At least none of them was confused. What happened after this was up to them.

  All four boys came to attention as Sergeant Cohan and the doctor stopped beside them. Neither one looked happy. “I want to see the three of you in my office immediately,” the sergeant ordered. “The doctor has dismissed you all. As for you...” He turned to Don. “You will wait for the others in the barracks. They will be joining you shortly.”

  Don shot the others a pleading look as they followed the sergeant out. If they only said what Don had told them to say, they might get away with it. If they didn’t, any career Don had hoped for was over.

  “Sergeant.” The four trainees and Sergeant Cohan stopped. The doctor was halfway out the door of the infirmary, calling after them. “You should send a bot to fill the others in on the situation, or they may never come back. I know I wouldn’t want to face you with five missing comrades and no explanation.”

  As the sergeant turned to continue on his way, his eyes found Don. The man raised an eyebrow at him, making Don turn toward the barracks. Don wouldn’t call himself a coward, but the sergeant’s look had been pretty clear. Why was he still here?

  When the rest of the boys had been rounded up and were standing with Don, Roberto, Tyson, and Tony in front of the barracks, Don had begun to wish he’d told the sergeant the truth.

  After he’d looked the company over, the sergeant turned to Don and asked slowly, “‘Trainee Wess tripped, sir,’ and the company looks like this?”

  Nothing else was said about the incident after that, but it wasn’t until lights out the next night that Don believed he was safe.

  Now, they stood once more in front of the sergeant —minus an infirmed Michael— each boy clothed in a stiff, wrinkle-free dress uniform. The boys weren’t sure why they had been called out in formal attire, but each was certain they would find out soon.

  “Fourteen days ago, you stood before me, and I saw the same ragtag bunch of monkeys that I see now. Tomorrow begins a new week, a fresh start. A chance to show me that you are capable of doing better than the abysmal performance I have seen so far. While I do not believe it is possible for such a transformation to occur, there are two changes that are imminent.

  “First, the rest of your classmates will be arriving today. You will each be responsible for showing a company around the camp, answering any questions, and providing them with information necessary to their survival here. A few of you will be responsible for more than one company.

  “As you can no doubt guess, life at Basic will be changing drastically from what you have come to know. You will be sharing your barracks floor with sixteen other companies, and your building with forty-nine. This camp will soon be home to over two thousand people. If you don’t quit fooling around, you will be left behind.

  “Enough with your petty fights and disagreements. If you can’t hold your own against your classmates, you will never survive if the Zarweans return. It is time to work as a team.”

  As a team? Don let his eyes drop to the ground. Michael and Tyson would never be able to work as a team, and he had yet to speak with Tyson again. They seemed to be avoiding each other.

  “Because it will become extremely difficult to distinguish different companies from one another, each company will have a name. You shall be Gabriel Company. From now on, you will answer as a company to that name.

  “The last thing I will address affects only you and those from space who follow you.” The sergeant paused for a moment, and all the boys waited curiously. They had over a thousand boys coming to their camp today, but this thing only affected them and those in space? A curious matter, to be sure.

  “Trainee Michael Gabriel Antony is dead.”

  Don felt a wave of shock crash over him. He could hear the exclamations of the others very clearly as he tried to come to terms with the statement. I wasn’t fast enough, Don thought. Damn you, Tyson! You could have saved him, but you didn’t.

  “What happened to Trainee Antony is grievous, but his death is no one’s fault but that of his own DNA. Trainee Antony had a severe allergy to a small, normally inconsequential insect found on this planet. His chances of survival were the same as yours would be in space without a containment suit.

  “There has never been an incident like this in the five years of Basic’s history. I assure you, immediate steps are being taken to test all of Gabriel Company for any severe allergies that would lead to the same regrettable end as Trainee Antony’s. This will soon become a routine process.”

  A nauseating feeling filled Don’s stomach. Now it would become a routine test. Now that someone had died. It was important only because Michael had died. What if he hadn’t? What if Michael had survived?

  “Trainee Antony’s body left yesterday for the airport in Nueva Carolina. From there, it will be sent to his parents by shuttle. No formal ceremony will be held here.” He said it so blandly, as if it didn’t matter, but it did. This was the Antonys’ son. They had raised him, watched him grow, and taught him everything they believed important in life. When they had said good-bye to him, he was a living, breathing creature, full of energy and emotion. They would be getting him back in a box, an empty shell to remind them of what Michael had been.

  A low rumble filled the air around them as it echoed off the mountain walls. The sergeant listened for a moment and then looked at his watch. “I do believe that will be your classmates arriving. Sanders, Inez, Oswaldo, Namm, Pope, O’Hara, Johnson, Amal, Black, and Alder, you will each be responsible for an extra company.”

  Don clenched his jaw as he heard his name called. He did not feel like showing eighty boys around the campus. He felt like lying on his bunk and letting the day slide away and fade into memory. A day Michael would never see.

  “Not all the companies will be arriving at once, so the trainees whose names I called out will take the first group. After the buses have been unloaded, the rest of you will be dismissed until later.” Don stared moodily at the ground as the sergeant finished. At least it was only going to be one company at the moment, not two.

  A dust cloud could be seen near the front gate, and through it they could see the front of a silver bus. It looked exactly like the one Don had arrived on. When it entered the compound, it turned right and stopped a hundred feet from the boys. Six identical buses followed it, each one adding to the growing sandstorm as it stopped on the parade ground.

  Don watched, hands clasped behind his back, as the boys from Earth stumbled out of their buses. They shook out their legs and stretched. All of them were laughing and talking to one another. The boys stared openly at Gabriel Company where they stood in their crisp, clean uniforms, looking at these “landlubbers” with as much distaste as they received.

  “This has been a regrettable beginning to the start of Camp Lorenzo’s third year. Let us try to do better from this point forward, shall we? Trainee Black, you will take the first company. Go now,” Sergeant Cohan barked. A boy somewhere behind Don answered and departed. “Pope, the second, O’Hara, the third.”

  Don answered with a reluctant, “Yes, sir.” Then he left the line, not waiting to hear the others’ assignments. He looked at the boys surrounding the bus he was heading toward. Many of them had bags on their shoulders or on the ground next to them. Others were still struggling to pull theirs from the lockers along the bottom edge of the bus.

  As Don neared the boys, he could hear the target of their condescending comments change from Gabriel Company as a whole to himself.

  Don walked straight up to a group of boys, ignoring the conversations around him. They were all taller than Don—some only a little taller, but taller all the same.

  Don looked up a few inches into a tanned, amused face. “Trainee,” Don said to the boy, his tone demanding th
e boy’s attention, “where is your instructor?”

  The boy stared at Don in surprise before his mouth twisted slowly into a smirk. His friends chuckled softly, watching in anticipation. Don did not blink as he stood waiting for an answer.

  “Listen up, boy. I don’t got to listen to no piece of space trash. You want something from me? You better kiss some sweet ass and hope I grace you with an answer.” The boy crossed his arms and looked down at Don. “An’ let me tell you, you ain’t scoring no points with that cheeky demanding crap.”

  Don waited impatiently for the boy to finish. “Where is your instructor, trainee?” he repeated.

  “I don’t think I made myself clear. I ain’t gonna talk to you 'less you wanna show me some respect. So get out of my face ‘fore I make you, little Zastard.”

  Anger seared through him at the boy’s words. “The last time a boy called someone that at Camp Lorenzo, he wound up dead,” Don said coldly, and was relatively pleased as the boy wavered. “I ask you again, where is your instructor?”

  “Standing behind you, trainee.”

  Don turned as the gravelly voice spoke from behind him, and he stood at attention. “Trainee O’Hara, sir, of Gabriel Company. I have been assigned to be your company’s guide, sir.”

  “Thank you, trainee, and please remember that what happened to your classmate was terrible indeed, but it gives you no grounds to threaten others.”

  Don bit back the words he would have like to say and grudgingly gave the mandatory, “Yes, sir.”

  The man turned away from Don to look at the boy who had given him a hard time. “Trainee Hurdes, let me make myself as clear as I can be. The next time someone asks to see your instructor, you will show them where your instructor is, or you will be running the Cake-Walk until your feet bleed.”

  Don was sure Hurdes didn’t know what the Cake-Walk was, but by the look on the boy’s face, he didn’t want to know.

  “Trainee O’Hara, please show Die Hard Company to barracks A5, the mess hall for registration, and then the supplies office.”