Turaxis

II

"This is Turaxis II, a living hell, a place abandoned by God, and the worst war-torn ruin in the entire Koprulu Sector. But boys, if you love to fight, then congratulations—you've come to the right place."

In a frontline fortress named "Turaxis-Prime" in the northern hemisphere of Turaxis II, Augustus stood on a fixed platform within the fortress's massive underground hangar, undergoing inspection and a briefing from a non-commissioned officer alongside other recruits who had just walked toward the Peace Dove transport ship.

About two hundred recruits stood in formation before the NCO, feet spread, hands clasped behind their backs, staring straight ahead without moving a muscle. The only reason they could maintain such rigid posture as recruits was that the NCO was constantly using her iron-hard elbows and the pointed tips of her leather boots to "gently" correct their stance.

Meanwhile, transport planes continued to land on the runway, one after another, almost without interruption. The underground hangar was more vast than any 21st-century airport Augustus had ever seen; at the end of the steel platform lay a dense, ant-like sprawl of domed structures stretching to the horizon.

Every building featured square, precise angles, down to the millimeter—the standard architectural style of the Terran Confederacy Marine Corps.

The construction materials all came from a monopolistic interstellar construction firm. Modular, assembly-line building units could be dropped onto the front lines with extreme efficiency via large orbital transport ships, then tightly assembled by the space construction vehicles of the Airborne Engineer Corps.

In just one day, a planetary fortress, along with miles of auxiliary industrial complexes and high-yield vespene gas refineries, could rise from the ground right under the noses of the Kel-Morians.

"At ease, heads up!"

The NCO was a stern-faced woman with short, dry brown hair, standing only about five-and-a-half feet tall—barely taller than Peter, the shortest recruit in this temporary training company. No one dared to look down on this NCO; as she walked past them, the soldiers all clenched their glutes.

Augustus had already changed into the issued training uniform, a deep-brown camouflage vest designed for the sandy terrain of Turaxis, known for its reliability and durability. Soldiers were required to tuck them neatly into Tarsonis-style paratrooper trousers cinched with nylon belts, and the recruits wore matching sand-tan combat boots and flat-topped caps with long brims.

Augustus was the only recruit who hadn't been scolded or beaten by the NCO, likely due to his standard-issue, statue-like posture and his natural, soldierly presence. He seemed like a soldier born.

At the same time, everyone had been issued an M-1 backpack, two electromagnetic grenades, gauss grenades, a PIG handheld personal information collection system terminal, a canteen, and Marine rations—including energy bars that provided a large amount of energy and protein in a short time, liquid food resembling potato mash, and other shelf-stable biscuits and "pies."

These dozens of kilograms of equipment were packed fully onto the soldiers' bodies and into their large B-2 backpacks. Augustus believed that once the NCO finished her briefing, their first training exercise would be a ten-kilometer cross-country run.

The recruit NCO was not responsible for their actual basic training; her task was merely to gather these recruits, who were like headless flies the moment they were let loose, and tell them what they were about to face.

After this, the recruits from Korhal IV would be shuffled and reorganized, training alongside recruits from Tarsonis, Antiga, Shiloh, Tyrador III, VIII, IX, and Mar Sara.

Due to the intensifying rebellion on Korhal, even though the Terran Confederacy government was still accepting soldiers from Korhal, they remained cautious about avoiding the grouping of all Korhal-born soldiers into the same battalion, or even the same company or platoon, to prevent them from forming independent factions.

The Terran Confederacy Marine Security Division had always believed that Korhal revolutionaries were, or had already, infiltrated the ranks of the great Confederate Marine Corps, though they had never obtained concrete evidence.

"The Terran Confederacy Marine Corps has always been synonymous with bravery. Major Maibika, who is in charge of recruit training, believes we should build our training camps on the front lines to adapt to these special times. We also believe that soldiers who graduate here will surely be superior to those from other camps."

Although they were struggling to hold back their discomfort, no one was foolish enough to voice untimely questions or snickers.

"Twelve weeks of military training will forge you into the finest warriors in the entire Terran Confederacy. Here, you must learn how to use your firearms and armor, or the Kel-Morians will use them better than you."

"You must also memorize every regulation of the Confederate Marine Corps and execute them to the letter. Remember the authority of your officers; if you can't do that, you should at least remember the whistle of the military police," the NCO said.

The recruits laughed, but the laughter stopped like a duck being strangled under the NCO's frozen expression.

"The Kel-Morians are destroying our planets. Their stellar excavators are plundering every resource on them to ship back to their home world, Moria. The Kel-Morian Combine is the most notorious mineral locust in this sector, and their vile, greedy, and corrupt guild government intends to seize every resource they can see in the Koprulu Sector." The NCO looked back and forth at everyone's face, as if there were a dozen lice on their heads.

"I know that on your planets, food rationing and fuel quotas have become the norm, and all of that should be blamed on those Kel-Morian bastards. I think it is necessary for you to know that once the Marine Corps is defeated, the guild government of Moria will ride on the heads of all Terrans. Your parents and children will be reduced to laborers in mines and private slaves to the guild overlords," she said.

"The Kel-Morians worship lineage and are obsessed with following ancient traditions in a nearly rigid manner. Under the rule of the Kel-Morian Combine, Terrans will undoubtedly be reduced to lowly fourth-class citizens."

Augustus noticed a restless stir nearby. At least to many Terrans, the current imminent resource shortages, deflation, and high unemployment within the Terran Confederacy were all caused by the Kel-Morians, rather than the instigators of the war or the nobles and tycoons sucking the blood of the Terran Confederacy giant.

Just as the recruits were filled with righteous indignation, a group of dejected recruits walked past Augustus, about thirty of them, with two carrying a blood-soaked stretcher.

The soldier on the stretcher was clearly also a recruit, having not yet finished changing into uniform, still wearing his pre-enlistment clothes. A medic covered the recruit's face with a clean white blanket. Upon seeing this, the recruits realized with sorrow that someone had died on their very first day of enlistment.

"The ship that carried them in encountered a squadron of three Kel-Morian Hellhounds. In the eyes of those aerial wolves, even the most heavily armored transport ship is just a piece of fat."

These recruits didn't have the courage to ask why the Confederate Avenger fighters hadn't escorted the transport, even though those fighters were about to be replaced by the latest Wraith Fighters; they still possessed a significant advantage in mobility and firepower against the Kel-Morian Hellhounds.

Augustus, however, noticed a young man with black hair among them. In this line of demoralized recruits, the young man didn't stand out in appearance or build, yet despite being an unranked recruit, he possessed an aura of leadership—the other recruits were following him rather than the corporal leading the way.

They quickly locked eyes, and both looked away at the same speed.