Ceremony
December 6th, 2010, 11:20 PM
Just tell me whats wrong with this and whats good with it. I want to know if its good enough to be published, thats my goal. I know its a high goal but i want to finish a book and help my family out with the money i know its a stretch but just tell me how good this is.
“That’s big talk for a greenhorn such as yourself, but can you back it up?” Shimmy asked the new squad member.
The newbie drew a blade and in a flash of a second put it to Shimmy’s neck. Shimmy stood completely still and tried to be confident in the fact that he realized the new guy wouldn’t dare do anything in front of all these people.
But then the new squad member’s visor flipped open to reveal two green gold eyes dilated with the insanity that went along in the his mind. Shimmy saw the psycho through the eyes of the soldier holding the blade to his throat which sent chills through his body.
“You fuck with me again, and I bleed you… real quiet,” he said sternly with his English accent.
“You… you wouldn’t dare,” he said stuttering trying to still be confident in front of everyone else.
The other squad members crowded around Shimmy and the new squad member, but then Pillah came in the middle of it all. Pillah put his hand on the new guy’s arm; he retracted the blade and put it in its sheath on his shoulder.
“Who are you soldier?” asked Pillah curiously.
“Corporal MacMillan... sir,” he said with visor falling down over his face.
“You’ve seen combat?” asked Pillah.
“Yeah… in District 20,” MacMillan said.
“District 20?!” one of the squad members said.
“What’s District 20?” asked Private April Pershing, one of the squad members.
“April, it’s a place where they put psycho’s, and once you’re in your chances of getting out are worse than winning the lottery, this guy must’ve applied for military service. I guess the Marines want psycho’s for their wars,” April’s friend and squad mate Jet said just loudly enough for April to hear.
“District 20? So I’m guessing that’s some sort of badge of honor?” said Pillah.
“More along the lines of a scar,” MacMillan said.
Pillah looked down at MacMillan’s SMG, a compact weapon with a very fast rate of fire, only problem was the 40 round magazines it used which could be depleted within seconds. He looked to see if his safety was on, which it was, but he knew he couldn’t be too careful about this guy. Pillah knew MacMillan had to have done something bad enough to be considered psycho and thrown into “The District” and that worried him a little bit. But at the same time he thought it might be a good thing to have a man like MacMillan on their side.
“PLATOONS 1550 THROUGH 6400 ENTER YOUR PODS,” the femine robotic voice said over the loud speaker.
Pillah’s squad was a part of platoon 4089, with the hearing of that he got beside of the stairs that led into the pod, then motioned for everyone to get in. MacMillan was first then followed by April until the last person, Jager, was. Pillah looked up to see 20 stories high of pods and walk ways that had soldiers on them leading to their pods. It was a vast sight and very remarkable but he didn’t have time for site seeing. He stepped onto the metal grated stairs and walked into the pod door.
The pod was octagonal in shape and about 7 feet high and neon blue lights lit the pod up. Pillah sat down and flipped his visor down. All kinds of visuals and colors identifying everything a soldier needed to know. From how many bullets were in his gun to the names of his comrades hovering over their heads’. Then a small video window popped up in the corner of his visor, it was his prime minister.
“Men today is the day we embark on a great crusade. To take back what is rightfully ours from a brutal enemy. An enemy that would destroy us all if it could. An enemy whose name I will not give the common courtesy by saying. An enemy that has killed our brothers, our sisters, our fathers, our wives, our husbands, and our families. We will not stand another second of this constant insult and disgrace to our culture, society, and well being! Today we go in there and see who the tough guy is! Today we show them whose boss! TODAY WE KILL THEIR WOMEN! THEIR MEN! THEIR HUSBANDS! THEIR WIVES! WE WILL HAVE VICTORY! WE WILL HAVE ORDER! AND WE WILL HAVE REVENGE!”
His speech was followed by a very loud applause and cheering then the video cut out. Pillah thought it was propaganda, but at second thought, because of the way it made him feel, he knew it wasn’t. It was the truth, and the Prime Minister didn’t sugar coat it. Pillah wanted revenge as did almost all Socialist Federation of Earth citizens. Pillah’s entire family used to lived on the planet he was about to land on… they were all slaughtered by… them.
Pillah looked at his troops all seemed nervous except for MacMillian who opened his visor and was smoking a cigarette casually. It was against regulations to smoke in a pod and MacMillian knew that. But no MP would stop someone from doing it, because they know it would probably be his last smoke. MacMillan slouched and puffed on his cigarette, he was proud, in a sense, to have the two chevrons on his right sleeve. For the first time in his life he felt like a part of something, unlike living in district 20 fighting for his life every day, living off of whatever scraps he could get his hands on. Service for the Federation was a way out, besides, he got free cigarettes.
April sat back in her seat shaking. Her first drop, her first action, pretty soon she would be pulling bullets out of Jager she thought to herself. She was unarmed, except for her pistol, and she hoped the enemy wouldn’t shoot her because of the big red crosses on her helmet and arms. But then her hatred for them swelled inside of her. She told herself if one of them tried to surrender to her she would execute them. Revenge for her sister, a life for a life.
Another video screen came on in all of their visors, MacMillan didn’t see it, of course, because his visor was flipped up. This time it encompassed their entire visors. It wasn’t a person, just a bunch of violent images flashing with heavy death metal. It was their platoon leader’s idea. Flash a bunch of pictures of executions, killing, and tortures to excite the soldiers. It worked.
The video ended with the video disappearing and only their platoon leader’s voice. “Men lets go fuck some shit up! Pillah, Church, and Grossman we’ll meet up when we land, your HUDs will show you where I am. Lead your men to me. Our objective is to knock out SAMs that will show up on our HUDs, this will pave the way for our MACK birds to come in and blow the fuck out of em! I’ll see you in the city! Detachment from USS Churchill in…” the Captain paused presumably to look at his watch, “10 seconds, god be with you”
MacMillan tossed his cigarette to his feet then stepped on it. He looked over to Shimmy who had his head against his seats safety handles, waiting like a frightened child on a drop ride at theme park. This time he wished he was there, here he could actually die.
“I’ll see ya down there mate,” MacMillan said respectfully.
Shimmy looked at him not saying a word then suddenly felt the jolt of the pod detaching. Butterflies filled Shimmy’s stomach as he felt the pod fall down to the planet below him. The fear was overwhelming and his exact thoughts were, “Jesus Christ, save me.”
MacMillan sat back in his seat with his visor still up cheering “Yeaaaaah hoooo!” like a kid on a rollercoaster. The way he saw it was he was probably going to die, why not enjoy the ride down to his grave?
Pillah heard MacMillan cheering and he just realized how psycho he was, didn’t he realize that he was probably dead? Wouldn’t that scare a man? He knew the rest of the squad were, by their body language.
The pod shook violently as it entered the atmosphere of the planet. Butterflies flew up into their stomachs as it felt like they falling from the sky themselves. One of the soldiers was praying, while everyone else, except for MacMillan, were silently gripping their safety handles awaiting the battle below.
Private Schafer was the one praying. He was praying to see the girl he left behind on earth, he was praying to see his mom and dad again, but the thing he was praying most for was another Christmas with his family. Just to go back to that time where his family and friends would come over and exchange gifts, set up the lights, the tree, that morning where he would wake up and the presents would be waiting for him. But what he want most was hot chocolate by the fire place with an 18 year old girl, his girl. The one he left behind. At that moment the only emotion that filled Schafer wasn’t fear, it was remorse. Remorse for signing up.
“That’s big talk for a greenhorn such as yourself, but can you back it up?” Shimmy asked the new squad member.
The newbie drew a blade and in a flash of a second put it to Shimmy’s neck. Shimmy stood completely still and tried to be confident in the fact that he realized the new guy wouldn’t dare do anything in front of all these people.
But then the new squad member’s visor flipped open to reveal two green gold eyes dilated with the insanity that went along in the his mind. Shimmy saw the psycho through the eyes of the soldier holding the blade to his throat which sent chills through his body.
“You fuck with me again, and I bleed you… real quiet,” he said sternly with his English accent.
“You… you wouldn’t dare,” he said stuttering trying to still be confident in front of everyone else.
The other squad members crowded around Shimmy and the new squad member, but then Pillah came in the middle of it all. Pillah put his hand on the new guy’s arm; he retracted the blade and put it in its sheath on his shoulder.
“Who are you soldier?” asked Pillah curiously.
“Corporal MacMillan... sir,” he said with visor falling down over his face.
“You’ve seen combat?” asked Pillah.
“Yeah… in District 20,” MacMillan said.
“District 20?!” one of the squad members said.
“What’s District 20?” asked Private April Pershing, one of the squad members.
“April, it’s a place where they put psycho’s, and once you’re in your chances of getting out are worse than winning the lottery, this guy must’ve applied for military service. I guess the Marines want psycho’s for their wars,” April’s friend and squad mate Jet said just loudly enough for April to hear.
“District 20? So I’m guessing that’s some sort of badge of honor?” said Pillah.
“More along the lines of a scar,” MacMillan said.
Pillah looked down at MacMillan’s SMG, a compact weapon with a very fast rate of fire, only problem was the 40 round magazines it used which could be depleted within seconds. He looked to see if his safety was on, which it was, but he knew he couldn’t be too careful about this guy. Pillah knew MacMillan had to have done something bad enough to be considered psycho and thrown into “The District” and that worried him a little bit. But at the same time he thought it might be a good thing to have a man like MacMillan on their side.
“PLATOONS 1550 THROUGH 6400 ENTER YOUR PODS,” the femine robotic voice said over the loud speaker.
Pillah’s squad was a part of platoon 4089, with the hearing of that he got beside of the stairs that led into the pod, then motioned for everyone to get in. MacMillan was first then followed by April until the last person, Jager, was. Pillah looked up to see 20 stories high of pods and walk ways that had soldiers on them leading to their pods. It was a vast sight and very remarkable but he didn’t have time for site seeing. He stepped onto the metal grated stairs and walked into the pod door.
The pod was octagonal in shape and about 7 feet high and neon blue lights lit the pod up. Pillah sat down and flipped his visor down. All kinds of visuals and colors identifying everything a soldier needed to know. From how many bullets were in his gun to the names of his comrades hovering over their heads’. Then a small video window popped up in the corner of his visor, it was his prime minister.
“Men today is the day we embark on a great crusade. To take back what is rightfully ours from a brutal enemy. An enemy that would destroy us all if it could. An enemy whose name I will not give the common courtesy by saying. An enemy that has killed our brothers, our sisters, our fathers, our wives, our husbands, and our families. We will not stand another second of this constant insult and disgrace to our culture, society, and well being! Today we go in there and see who the tough guy is! Today we show them whose boss! TODAY WE KILL THEIR WOMEN! THEIR MEN! THEIR HUSBANDS! THEIR WIVES! WE WILL HAVE VICTORY! WE WILL HAVE ORDER! AND WE WILL HAVE REVENGE!”
His speech was followed by a very loud applause and cheering then the video cut out. Pillah thought it was propaganda, but at second thought, because of the way it made him feel, he knew it wasn’t. It was the truth, and the Prime Minister didn’t sugar coat it. Pillah wanted revenge as did almost all Socialist Federation of Earth citizens. Pillah’s entire family used to lived on the planet he was about to land on… they were all slaughtered by… them.
Pillah looked at his troops all seemed nervous except for MacMillian who opened his visor and was smoking a cigarette casually. It was against regulations to smoke in a pod and MacMillian knew that. But no MP would stop someone from doing it, because they know it would probably be his last smoke. MacMillan slouched and puffed on his cigarette, he was proud, in a sense, to have the two chevrons on his right sleeve. For the first time in his life he felt like a part of something, unlike living in district 20 fighting for his life every day, living off of whatever scraps he could get his hands on. Service for the Federation was a way out, besides, he got free cigarettes.
April sat back in her seat shaking. Her first drop, her first action, pretty soon she would be pulling bullets out of Jager she thought to herself. She was unarmed, except for her pistol, and she hoped the enemy wouldn’t shoot her because of the big red crosses on her helmet and arms. But then her hatred for them swelled inside of her. She told herself if one of them tried to surrender to her she would execute them. Revenge for her sister, a life for a life.
Another video screen came on in all of their visors, MacMillan didn’t see it, of course, because his visor was flipped up. This time it encompassed their entire visors. It wasn’t a person, just a bunch of violent images flashing with heavy death metal. It was their platoon leader’s idea. Flash a bunch of pictures of executions, killing, and tortures to excite the soldiers. It worked.
The video ended with the video disappearing and only their platoon leader’s voice. “Men lets go fuck some shit up! Pillah, Church, and Grossman we’ll meet up when we land, your HUDs will show you where I am. Lead your men to me. Our objective is to knock out SAMs that will show up on our HUDs, this will pave the way for our MACK birds to come in and blow the fuck out of em! I’ll see you in the city! Detachment from USS Churchill in…” the Captain paused presumably to look at his watch, “10 seconds, god be with you”
MacMillan tossed his cigarette to his feet then stepped on it. He looked over to Shimmy who had his head against his seats safety handles, waiting like a frightened child on a drop ride at theme park. This time he wished he was there, here he could actually die.
“I’ll see ya down there mate,” MacMillan said respectfully.
Shimmy looked at him not saying a word then suddenly felt the jolt of the pod detaching. Butterflies filled Shimmy’s stomach as he felt the pod fall down to the planet below him. The fear was overwhelming and his exact thoughts were, “Jesus Christ, save me.”
MacMillan sat back in his seat with his visor still up cheering “Yeaaaaah hoooo!” like a kid on a rollercoaster. The way he saw it was he was probably going to die, why not enjoy the ride down to his grave?
Pillah heard MacMillan cheering and he just realized how psycho he was, didn’t he realize that he was probably dead? Wouldn’t that scare a man? He knew the rest of the squad were, by their body language.
The pod shook violently as it entered the atmosphere of the planet. Butterflies flew up into their stomachs as it felt like they falling from the sky themselves. One of the soldiers was praying, while everyone else, except for MacMillan, were silently gripping their safety handles awaiting the battle below.
Private Schafer was the one praying. He was praying to see the girl he left behind on earth, he was praying to see his mom and dad again, but the thing he was praying most for was another Christmas with his family. Just to go back to that time where his family and friends would come over and exchange gifts, set up the lights, the tree, that morning where he would wake up and the presents would be waiting for him. But what he want most was hot chocolate by the fire place with an 18 year old girl, his girl. The one he left behind. At that moment the only emotion that filled Schafer wasn’t fear, it was remorse. Remorse for signing up.