Costas, Arlene's page

Kreis and Costas exchange another long glance after Corwin's obvious remark, and again Costas gives a slight shake of her head. "We could take them over the Course," suggests Kreis with a slight smirk.

"We could," admits Costas, "But they're supposed to come at it cold on the first day."

"True. But campus tour now, then boring Monday."

"Uch." Costas rolls her eyes, then thinks for a minute. "Not if we ..." She hesitates, then stops.

"Submit a request on their behalf for an early first Course, because they've already gotten oriented?" Kreis's eyes are twinkling a little; guy's got a bit of sly to him.

"Which would get them there on Monday ..." Costas again trails off, then grins. "Right, campus tour it is. Not that y'all are going to have the place memorized after one go-about, or that we'll be able to get into all the places, but after six months running all over campus with each other and somebody or three senior to you all the time, you'll know it just fine. Anyone say nay?"

Yeah, I recognize Fiore. I assume Bruce is just being snide, since he has no actual combat skills. (Though he probably plays RPGs - one of the few places I've run into Fiore is in such. ;) )

Kreis looks sideways at Bruce with a narrowing of his eyebrows, not sure if he understands what the kid is getting at - or what, exactly, his attitude is.

Costas, however, has already blithely trundled on. "Oh, sure," she tells Mei, though you probably won't get to really do any serious study on it until spring - two quarters. That's when the 'always as a team' restriction usually gets lifted. But if you all can get agreement on free-time at the gym, usually you can find someone to work out with in the same area as each other. Obviously," she gestures to Bas, "that's easier for something like boxing, but we have a good six or eight martial arts represented here, and a couple of them include sword-fighting, so you should be in luck, Cartwright."

Once she's said that, and looking over the plates of the group, she glances at the inside of her left wrist again - left forearm, actually, and those to her right can see that there's a small readout stuck there, a microPIT or something, that displays the time for her. "Well, we got an hour and fifteen minutes before we have to be all-hands at Assembly. Not often you get to be a democracy, but now's your chance. Whadda y'all want to do?

Costas watches the other CSgt do the whole fanboy routine, then shakes her head. "He's always been up about Fisk," she asides to the others, finally cleaning her plate and moving on to her dessert, an apple crumble. (The other option was a peach compote. You pays your money and you takes your choice ...) "Yeah, cultural studies," she says about Jackie's surprise. "Like Kreis said, they want us to be people first, soldiers second. Well-educated people, too - accepting of others, knowledgeable, that sort of stuff. The more you know, the better you can make up your mind."

Considering the conversation between Dakota and Bruce, she smiles slightly. "Don't go thinking it isn't regulated," she advises. "What we look up on our PITs, and what gets looked up on the desktop ones in our rooms, is tracked. You spend a lot of time looking into something, and they'll start getting into it in class. From what the cadet officers say, there's nothing you can study that doesn't have a military application. I'd guess that if you really start looking into materials, you'll get combat engineering training tacked on. And demolitions, but from what I've heard, demolitions is a sub-set of ComEng."

Costas asides to Bruce, "Dude, you're in - okay, you'd be entering - eighth grade. You got a long way to go to get to material analysis and composition."

“This is why we learn and practice discipline so that we can become less of a danger to our brothers and sisters and a threat to the Thunder. As the example given by our superiors demonstrates, power without control, without discipline is disaster, chaos and death.”

Costas and Kreis exchange a long look with each other, which ends when Costas gives a quirk of a smile and shakes her head just slightly.

"You know, one thing I don't really get, why did Schein decide that Threaded people were the best way to go? There's few of us, so many of us die between Threading and training...why not just try to reverse engineer Thunder tech or something? You could hand a gun to any soldier, and we're still pretty killable. Would we survive being hit by one of those acid guns even when fully Threaded and trained?"

Bas shrugs.

"Just seems like a weird basket to put all your eggs in, y'know?"

”Why wait until now to question the methods that brought all us here? Don't you think that someone else might have tried that before Professor Schein discovered his breakthrough? Obviously this was found to be the best way for us to finally defeat the Thunder and drive them from our Earth.”

"Maybe your experience was different from mine, but I didn't have time to ask questions during boot."

"And is it obviously the best? They basically put everything in the hands of one guy. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, I dunno. That's why you ask things."

Costas takes this one. "Who says they aren't researching stuff? We're humans, we don't believe in one best way, ever. Too many of us thinking too differently. But don't think that we're all the eggs they got. They HAVE figured out how to do the acid-plasma stuff, they just can't figure out how to get it down to man-portable - hell, Hummer-portable - size. And yeah, from what I hear pretty much all of us can survive a few direct hits from their guns, you know, by the time we get to the ninety-day field op at the end of Fourth Year, but like anything, you hit it enough times and it won't be totally invulnerable in the end, so ..." She shrugs.

"Dr. Schein --" Kreis starts to say, when he is interrupted.

"Like I said, usually it starts out with an attack - fire bolts, plasma grenades, disintegration beams, stone shards, even just really impressive strength - and a defense of some sort, usually leaning towards what your attack is like." Costas pokes at her cauliflower, then frowns over at Bill. "Take all you can eat, eat everything you take, Younger. Chow down - you guys haven't had a chance to put anything into the fridges yet. If Candi-Boot didn't teach you, y'all'll learn here to eat until your gut is actually full, even if you don't think you're hungry." Of course, it looks like she's reminding herself of the unwritten, but just as strong as if it were, rule of the chow line, because she pokes at the steamed, buttered, and breaded cauliflower for a moment more before reluctantly putting it into her mouth and chewing.

"Lannings, you'll spend lots of time with your PIT. It's dinnertime, movie time, stuff like that that'll really help forge y'all into a group, a squad, instead of just ... seperate people. An' yes, uh ..."

"Marshall," prompts Kreis.

"Thanks. Marshall, yeah, we get trained on rescue an' recovery, but mostly that's a tailored thing - what part of it you get trained in depends on what you can do. Strong ones, earthmovers, and teeks - telekinetics - get trained in the engineering, lookin' at a pile and figurin' out what they can move, what they can't. Thing is, it's only one part of a really big bunch of stuff we need to know. So usually people don't get even halfway decent at it until they're officers."

"I doubt the kids who were the first ones on the spot were thinking too clearly either," Kreis admits around a bite of broccoli, wiping some mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth. "You see kids buried under rubble, well - we're Threaded, you know? I've watched kids run through a reinforced concrete wall with only bruising. But ... that's through, not a hundred tons of the stuff waiting to land on top of you. So yeah, like Walker says, stay alert, stay aware, always be as realistic as you can about what you can do."

Kreis frowns, considering Jackie's latest question. "I don't think so," he says carefully. "It isn't in any of the tactical information they let us see - and like Younger here knows, they let even you guys see some pret-ty serious stuff. But so far as I know, all they have is tech. That acid-plasma sh!t they fire from their guns, the random-walk anti-vehicular explosive rocket walker things they use, the hovercraft gunboats, the sea-mines, their aerial drones, the implants, all that - tech, tech, and more tech. Nothing like Professor Schein came up with." He glances over at Bill again, then frowns. "Hey, Younger, what's chewing your tail?"

Costas looks across the table at the questioner, then says, "Hey - plenty of time for that later. It's polite - not to mention required in class - to pay attention and look at the person when you ask a question." She waits until Dakota is looking up again, then answers. "Nobody knows. You have the usual baseline Threaded abilities - boosted strength, endurance, agility, manual dexterity, resiliency, that sort of thing. You can all move really well in some manner. That'll probably be it for the next three or five weeks, until someone in your company ... hey, Kreis, what do the specs call it?"

Kreis swallows a chunk of potato and replies, "Lotta things. Erupt, evolve, adapt - I like 'erupt' myself."

"Yeah, me too, I just thought you knew the technical term. Anyhow, someone's genetics will finish talking business with the KS serum still in your bodies, and then bam, new powers - energy beams, force fields, all sorts of crazy stuff. Practically the whole class will erupt within the week or ten days afterwards - they call it a cascade. But there's no knowing until it happens what it's gonna be."

The food is fresh, not over-cooked, and - despite cooking for something like fifteen hundred at a time - pretty well seasoned. It's not ultra complex, you won't be getting five-star food, but apparently you can still make some pretty good stuff even if you've got only half a dozen ingredients. The pork thing is something called 'balsamic pork tenderloin', with these little potatoes.

"If you mean, like, power-wise, it's mostly personal starting out," Costas says as she chews. "Learning how you move - how fast you can go, maybe finding out what else you can do besides what you Threaded with. I think ... Kreis, Wednesday for the Course?"

"Tuesday," opinions the large-nosed Kreis. "Monday phys-time is the campus tour."

Sorry for the delay - admit I somewhat expected more joining-in of the chattering. Anyhow.

True to her promise, right at thirty minutes (though not with stopwatch accuracy) CSgt Costas shouts out "Oscar Company, First Platoon, First Squad, on the deck!! Cadet Privates Junior-Grade, get your toes out here and on the line!!" Right after her shout, a bugle call sounds through what's apparently a PA system throughout the complex. It doesn't bounce around like it probably normally would in a concrete building, so either they have the volume turned down, or else there's something funny going on with the furnishings.

So fresh out of boot, you had of course noticed the two-inch-wide yellow tiles along either side of the corridor; though they stay the same distance from the wall, they run from the bottom of the stairs to the corner and around it. Toes should be at (not over) the line, and while the cadet corporals have skivvied off to their own quarters (or duties, or whatever), CSgt Kreis is still there on the stairs side (the overhead doors now closed), his hands clasped behind his back. Costas is towards the T-intersection beyond in an identical pose, waiting for you to get to the line and at attention.

"At ease. I expect that call you heard is familiar to you - chow time. Like always, wait for release by your teacher or commander of the moment; me, Kreis, and Baldwin are three of your seven assigned cadet sergeants, First of the First from Foxtrot Company. Except inside the school buildings, in quarters here, and during weekend free time, there'll be at least one and usually two of us, as well as two of the seven assigned cadet corporals you saw down here from Hotel Company, along with you. Keep your CQO's in mind, and even if we're not with you, you shouldn't go too far wrong. Now, we're headed out of barracks, so retrieve your weapons, and let's get a move on."

After the two minutes it takes five boys and four girls to rotate through a door, snag a weapon and ammo, put them into proper carry positions, and rotate back out to toe the line, Costas gives you a looking-over and nods. "Face the sergeant!!" (That means turns towards her.) She looks you over again, then nods. "Okay, here's the skinny. Always be ready to get called to attention, marching orders, the whole ramrod-military thing. Always be ready for it, but we don't usually go marching around the Academy in formation. You'll get pop quizzed, so to speak, pretty frequently for the next couple of years, but you're expected to maintain military discipline without us forcing you to become a brainless robot. You're here to develop your abilities, learn how to control them, and if you can't or won't control them, I guarantee they will kill you - your powers, most likely, far faster than any of the adults here. So keep it together - keep your head in it without us having to shove our arms up your a$$es to turn you into little meat-puppets. Officially, you're dismissed for chow; unofficially, that means y'all can follow me."

Gesturing you nine to follow while Kreis 'strolls along' bringing up the rear, Costas walks out into the T-intersection, and says, "Place is set up so that the nearest primary hall is your company rally point. With the First of the First, that'll be to the left," and she points to her right as she's facing you, your left. "The halls the other way," and she points to her left, your right, "belong to another Company. Right now, that means Lima Company, Class 38, Cadet Privates. You want to get hassled, turn right; you want to get to chow, turn left." She leads you along, gesturing to the halls off-set in the curving main hall. "Each ring is set up with four quadrants, nine barracks halls per quadrant, up to twelve cadets per hall. Once a year we move down a level; cadet privates and jay-gees on sub-one, corporals and pee-eff-cees on sub-two, sergeants and staff sergeants on sub-three."

As she walks and talks, other members of Oscar Company are emerging from their halls ahead of you, their own cadet-sergeants explaining probably the same stuff to them. As you approach the hall ahead, a sussuration of noise begins to grow. "This is the East Hall - East Sub-One. Company adjuntant's office there," she points at a doorway (currently closed) on the E-1 main hallway, 'inside' of the curved hallway, "company watch post there," and that is to the door-and-window guard booth on the 'outside'. "Food and commons is this way," she says, and heads 'inside'.

It isn't far - maybe fifteen, twenty meters - until you reach the wide ring balcony that contains cafeteria dining tables against three of the four walls and smaller four-seat tables up next to the railing. "Don't sit at one of the little tables for at least a few months unless you're ready to leave it," recommends Kreis from behind you. "Since those tables are by seniority, you have to obey the orders of anyone higher-ranked than you, and since a second-semester jigger outranks you, they'd take GREAT delight in ordering you to shift your butt."

"True," agrees Costas. "So - food there," she points where she's leading you, towards the wall between the south and west halls where a standard chowline runs left-to-right, and you get into line behind what seems like pretty much everyone else on your floor. "Like at boot - take all you can eat, but eat everything you take. Remember, there are people starving in the cities. Stick around until the rest of your squad is out of the line, then smartest thing to do is to secure a table back by your Company Hall. The long tables are first come, first served, but unless you want trouble outside chow, stick near your own quad. It IS four quads squished into three, but the fourth-quarter folks on each level usually grab the round tables, except for whatever upper-end cadet master sergeants and above decide to come to your level; mostly they stick down on sub-four." She gestures over the balcony rails, where three levels of balconies expose a floor with a fair number of the circular tables.

By then it's time to grab a tray, silverware, and a PDF-standard sectioned melamine plate and step through the chow line. The food is a) plentiful, b) quite hot (or quite cold) but c) of only moderate variety. Like at boot, you CAN manage to be a vegetarian (vegan is right out), but sharp-eyed adult noncoms near the end put protein on Every Single Plate, whether it's today's pig-based protein or a thick chunk of vegetarian-friendly soy-something-or-another.

Oh, and d) it's actually pretty damn good.

Costas leads you back over to the East Sub One hall, adding, "Dish return to either side of the radial halls. Every two weeks, your squad helps in the kitchens for one meal; starting out, that'll mean doing something like a couple thousand trays, plates, forks, spoons, cups, everything you see here. Here, either side of this table; stick together, don't line all down one side." Costas leads down one side, while Kreis anchors the other.

"Dig in! An' ask questions if y' got 'em. Don't worry, we got plenty of time for eating. Breakfast is fast, lunch is a hurry, but they give us an hour and a half for dinner - 1800 to 1930 on weekdays, hour earlier on weekends. Assembly's at 1900 tonight. Don't worry, schedule stuff is all in your PITs."

Costas, keeping to one knee, gives a quirk of a smile at the responses to the accented voice coming from behind her. When 'Talmadge, C' starts to speak, her head turns towards him - up towards him, as it happens, since he's standing upright.

His use of 'lowly cadet' makes her eyebrows furrow, and she lifts a hand to stop him. Once he does - considering Corwin, probably immediately - she states, "Secure that 'lowly' crap, chippie. This ain't one of the old Academies, where you were expected to grovel. You made it through Candidate Boot - you proved you aren't some powder-puff wannabe. Now, you were saying?" She listens to the rest of his question and answers, with a bit of surprise on her face, "All of the above, of course. Against other squads; against members of your own squad."

Before she can continue, a voice comes from behind her - that of 3L Masterson, who is clearly listening in. It's loud - well, sort of. It's projected. "Cadets, what is your first challenge??"

Costas, along with the Cadet-Corporals that are out of sight, give in a firm 'hoo-rah!' indoor volume, "I am!!"

Masterson: "What is your last challenge??"

Costas & Cadet-Corporal Chorus: "I am!!"

Masterson: "Who can overcome that challenge?"

Costas & Cadet-Corporal Chorus: "I can!!"

Masterson: "Who helps you overcome your challenges?"

Costas & Cadet-Corporal Chorus: "My team!!"

Masterson: "Who helps the rest of your team in their challenges?"

Costas & Cadet-Corporal Chorus: "I do!!"

Masterson: "What do you do?"

Costas & Cadet-Corporal Chorus: "The Job!!"

Masterson: "What do your orders tell you?"

Costas & Cadet-Corporal Chorus: "Do The Job!!"

Masterson: "What if you the orders are unclear?"

Costas & Cadet-Corporal Chorus: "Do The Job!!"

Masterson: "What if you have no orders?"

Costas & Cadet-Corporal Chorus: "Do The Job!!"

Masterson: "Identify the job --"

Costas & Cadet-Corporal Chorus: "Do The Job!!"

Masterson waits a beat, then says in a less aggressive, far more thoughtful tone: "Do the job."

Costas, along with the Cadet-Corporals concealed in the seats, gives a firm "Hoo-ah!!" before looking up at Corwin with a crooked grin. "Answer your question, Cadet Private jay-gee Talmadge?"

'Costas, A' smiles crookedly, just one corner of her mouth curling up. "That's what we said," she agrees with Jackie. "Makes for something like a six hundred mile radius, plus-or-minus fifty, the school could be in. I gotta admit, I'm not entirely sure why it's so far away from the transfer point - or if it's even that far away - or why it's, y'know, so secret from everyone else. Buuuut ...."

She trails off, looking back towards the Striped-Bar cadet returning to the school, soon to become a cadet lieutenant who'll be issuing orders for her to direct you people into carrying out. "Cities are the battlegrounds. So we have to do training in a city - that's the Chicago Ruin, between the river and the lake. But we don't want to be anywhere near a city during standard schooling, so ..."

Shaking her head, she looks back at the nine of you. "I just don't get how they built it. Or sealed it. Or keep the air out ..." With a laugh, she lifts her hands palm-up in a 'whaddaya gonna do??' gestures.

Though the cadet and the officer talk generally quietly, they are facing your way, and a few minutes into their quiet discussion, the officer gestures at the ten of you (nine plus Costas, after all). And then after a moment of continuing to speak he rather loudly says - or perhaps orders, considering his tone - "Don't f#ck it up."

Masterson's head jerks upright, his shoulders, neck, and head at attention. "Yes sir," he replies, and regards you brand-spanking-new Chippies with thoughtful interest.

Fisk, after briefly scanning your faces, leaves Masterson to his thoughts and extracts what fifty years ago might have been called a cellphone, but what is now simply a 'pit', 'portable information terminal'. Fisk's looks to be a standard military-issue pit - fine for in the field or on the move, but with its small, flat, limited screen very insufficient for so many modern uses.

"They never tell anyone," Costas replies. "I'm pretty sure it's some sort of classified. But one of my classmates, a real brainy sort before he tried and failed to outcompute a combat situation, decided that the train moves at almost Mach 3." She gestures with her thumb towards the windows in the front section, which remain dark. "We figured that the thumps and the noise you hear before acceleration is the train moving into a sealed section, and that they pump the air out so that the train doesn't have issues with air resistance. Or," she adds, "sonic booms."