The UNSC Needs You! Chapter 2 - Boot Camp

The sun had only just risen over the horizon when the chickens began their morning calls, rousing the residents of the Darwin family farm. Adam opened his eyes to the familiar, if irritating, sound. He drew a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling as a small smile crept onto his face. 'Today is the day,' he thought, rubbing his eyes before pushing himself out of bed. The frame groaned under his weight, as it always did. At over 6,6ft tall and nearly one-hundred-and-fifty kilos of solid muscle, Adam had gone through more than a few beds in his time. He stretched his arms above his head and almost hit the ceiling. "Why do I always do that..." he muttered to himself. After chiding himself, he made his way over to the bathroom before grabbing a towel on his way there.

The bathroom was little more than a cramped corner with a shower that had been patched and repaired more times than Adam could remember. He twisted the tap, the pipes shuddering before a stream of lukewarm water spilled down. He stepped under it without hesitation, letting it cascade over his shoulders and back. Steam began to fill the space, fogging up the mirror across from him. He closed his eyes, leaning forward with his palms pressed against the wall as the water ran down his frame.

When he was done, he shook his head like a dog, droplets scattering across the tiles, then grabbed the threadbare towel from its hook. He dried off quickly and padded back into his room, the morning air cool against his damp skin. Adam pulled on a pair of worn work trousers, tugged a faded t-shirt over his head, and laced up his boots. The shirt stretched tight across his chest and arms, but he hardly noticed. With a final glance around the room, he rolled his shoulders and let out a quick breath.

"Today is the day..." he said to himself.

Adam stepped out of his room and started down the stairs. He knew his Ma would already be in the kitchen with breakfast on the stove, and his Pa would be out tending to the animals. Since this was his last day on the farm, they had probably let him sleep in. Not that he needed much sleep—he never really had—but he liked it all the same. He liked dreaming. Sometimes in those dreams he saw a woman. He didn't know who she was, but he knew she mattered, and sleep was the only place he ever found her.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he descended, each step groaning until the sound carried into the kitchen.

"Adam, darling, is that you?" his mother called, though she already knew the answer. No one else in the house sounded like they might bring the floor down just by walking.

"Yeah, Ma, I'm coming now," Adam called back, stepping off the last stair. He passed through the hall and into the kitchen, where his mother stood waiting with a warm smile and the smell of breakfast already filling the room.

His mother, Margaret Darwin, though everyone simply called her Maggie, stood by the stove with her apron tied neatly around her waist. Her dark hair, streaked with silver, was pulled back into a bun to keep it out of her eyes as she worked. Her face was lined with the years, but it was the kind of weathering that came from laughter and long days in the sun. She wasn't tall, not compared to Adam, but there was a decent frame on her, the kind that came from a life of hard work on a farm.

Maggie had always been the heart of the Darwin farm. She was the one who made sure no one left the table hungry, who patched torn clothes and bandaged cuts. Adam knew there wasn't a person alive who could match the warmth in her voice when she said his name, or the way she could make a bad day seem bearable with nothing more than a hug. She was also one of the best cooks he had ever known, though in their small town, there wasn't much competition. Still, something told him this was the best food he would ever eat.

Adam sat down at the table as Maggie set his plate before him. It wasn't special in any way except for its size: nearly twice that of a normal dish, built to hold the portions his body demanded. His unique physiology meant he burned through food at nearly double the rate of anyone else. He hated it. The constant hunger, the expense, the financial weight it put on the family budget. Feeding him wasn't cheap, and every bite was a reminder of the burden he caused. But Maggie never allowed him to feel like one. She filled his plate, as she always had, and brushed off his worries with the same love she always gave him. She would feed her son, and that was that.

Maggie moved back to the stove, spoon in hand, and began piling food high onto his plate. Eggs, thick slices of bacon, fried potatoes, bread still warm from the oven. She kept adding more until the plate was stacked to the brim. Adam's stomach growled at the sight and smell, and he felt the usual pinch of guilt... all this food, just for him.

"Here you are," she said softly, sliding the plate across the table.

Adam picked up his fork, hesitating just long enough to glance at her. "Thanks, Ma," he said. He looked down at the food. "It all looks so good today."

Maggie smiled, though he noticed the shimmer in her eyes. She stepped close, wrapped an arm around him, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "That's because this is a special breakfast," she whispered. "So eat as much as you want, as much as you can."

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "Thanks, Ma."

He dug in, his fork working quickly as he tried not to look too greedy. Between bites, he glanced up. "Where's Pa?" he asked, his voice muffled by the food but carrying genuine curiosity.

"Oh, you know your Pa," Maggie said with a small shake of her head. "He's not very good at things like this." She looked over at Adam, her eyes softening. "He doesn't want you to go, you know. Even if he doesn't say it right."

Adam nodded. He knew exactly the kind of man John Darwin was. His Pa loved him, there was no doubt about that, and Adam wasn't upset he wasn't here for their last breakfast together. That was just how his Pa was.

"You don't have to go," Maggie said as she lowered herself into the chair across from him. She reached across the table and took his hand. "I hope you know that. We got along just fine before, and we'll get along fine now."

Adam smiled faintly. "I know, Ma. But I don't want you to just 'get along.' I know you and Pa are behind on some of the payments."

Maggie gave him a mock glare, tapping the tip of his nose like she had when he was a boy. "I wasn't aware I raised such a noisy child," she said, before rising again. She noticed his plate was already empty, clucked her tongue, and set more food down in front of him. "We may be struggling on a few payments, but we'll be fine. We always are."

Adam doubted it, though he didn't say it aloud. He shoveled in a bite and said gently, "Come on, Ma. You're one of the last farms still on Earth. Most of the others have been shipped off to those new fertile colonies, and with how expensive it's gotten to live here, you and Pa are going to lose the farm one day."

Maggie sighed, her shoulders dropping as she turned away to hide her face. "Your father and I are prepared for that to happen. Especially if it means you don't go off and fight in a war." Her voice broke, tears threatening to fall. "Neither of us want to bury our son because of those horrible bugs."

Adam pushed back from the table and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her small frame, making her look even smaller against him. "Don't worry, Ma. I'm not gonna die," he saidn. "But I have to do this. After everything you and Pa have done for me, I can't just sit here."

He pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his own firm. "Since you and Pa are over fifty-five, it means I can do your service in your place. Once I join up, you'll have your citizenship, and the core-world tax will disappear. That makes it worth it."

Maggie turned back toward him, her eyes glassy now, and gripped his arms as if she could hold him there forever. "Oh, Adam..." she whispered, her voice breaking at last. She pressed her forehead to his chest, her small frame trembling as she tried to hold back the sobs. He wrapped her tighter in his arms, resting his chin against her hair, letting her cling to him.

When she finally pulled away, she wiped at her eyes quickly, forcing herself to smile through the tears. "I'm so proud of you," she said. "But if you ever come back to me in a box, I'll march up to Heaven myself and drag you right back down."

Adam gave a small, crooked smile at that. "Don't worry, Ma. You won't have to."

He kissed her forehead gently, then stepped back toward the table to grab his jacket. "I'm gonna go see Pa," he said, sliding his arms into the sleeves. "Bus will be here soon, and I want to talk to him before that."

Maggie nodded, swallowing hard as she straightened her apron. "You'll find him out back, fixing the fence," she murmured, her hands fidgeting as if to keep busy. "You know how he is. Always wanting to make himself useful."

Yeah," Adam said with a small chuckle. "That sounds just like him." He cleared his plate and set it in the sink beside her. She immediately began to wash it, as if keeping her hands busy might keep her heart from breaking. Adam leaned down, kissed her cheek, and whispered, "I'll see you soon, Ma," before turning toward the door.

Stepping outside, he drew in a lungful of fresh country air. The crispness of it filled his chest, carrying the faint scent of tilled earth, hay, and the sweetness of apples on the wind. His eyes swept over the farmm. Most of what his family grew was fully organic, a rarity now. That was what made their farm stand out on Earth. His father refused automation, refused growth hormones or chemical shortcuts. Everything here was fresh, natural, and tended by hand. These days, that kind of farming was a luxury.

Adam's boots crunched along the dirt path as he made his way toward the orchard. This was where his father often disappeared to when something weighed on him, where he could work with his hands until the brooding wore off. And sure enough, Adam spotted him up ahead, broad-shouldered and weathered, a hammer in one hand and a post in the other, working the fence line in silence.

"Hey, Pa," Adam said as he approached from behind.

John turned around at the sound, his weathered face unreadable. He grunted, a sound halfway between acknowledgment and dismissal, then turned back to his work without a word.

"Need some help with the fence?" Adam asked as he stepped up beside him.

For a moment John kept hammering at the post cap, before he finally gave a curt nod. He gestured to the wooden pole with the claw end of his hammer. "Hold that down for me while I work on it."

"Yes, sir." Adam grabbed the post with one hand and drove it into the earth with a wuick slam, burying it deep as though he'd swung a mallet on it.

John stopped mid-motion, the hammer still in his hand. He looked at the pole, then at Adam, his brow furrowing slightly. "I told you to hold it," he said slowly.

Adam shrugged. "Didn't see the point in making you do it the hard way."

For a long moment John just stared at him. Then he let out a long breath through his nose, turned back to the fence, and began securing the rails. They worked in side by side, Adam holding the rails while John hammered them into place. The sun climbed higher, filtering through the orchard branches, dust motes drifting in the light. Finally, as Adam brushed the dirt from his palms, he spoke. "The bus'll be here at noon," he said quietly. "Apparently it'll take us to a pelican and I'll be heading to Sierra Largo for training."

John's hammer stilled mid-swing. He stood there for a moment, shoulders stiff, before setting it down on the fence post. He didn't look at Adam. Adam shifted uneasily, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "Pa... I'm sorry, if I disappointed you... I just had to do this."

John froze, then turned his head slowly, his eyes fixing on his son. "You've not disappointed me, Adam." He paused. "I'm disappointed in myself."

Adam blinked, startled, his mouth opening in shock, but John lifted a hand, cutting him off before he could speak. "A while back I fought in the Insurrection War," he said gruffly. "Got injured before my mandatory time was up. Never got citizenship, but I didn't fight for that, I fought because I didn't want the next generation to have to keep fighting." His voice hardened, his gaze became distant as if he was looking at something far away. "War... it's not as glamorous as they say. It's only when you come back, you realize how much of you is gone. How much you left behind out there."

He clenched his fist around the hammer. "I didn't want that for you. To see you go to war for your father... it makes me feel so damn ashamed of myself."

Adam stepped closer, laying a hand firmly on his father's shoulder. "Pa, you've got nothing to be ashamed of. You did what you had to do, and you raised me better than any man could have. Everything I am, it's because of you and Ma."

John turned then, his eyes wet, the stern mask cracking for the first time. "Son... I'm proud of you. You're everything I hoped you'd be, and more. Even if you aren't my flesh and blood..." His voice broke, but he pressed on. "I'll never have another son."

Adam's chest tightened. He reached forward and pulled his father into a tight embrace. John stiffened for a moment, then dropped the hammer and wrapped his arms around Adam, holding him close. For a moment they stood there in the orchard, the weight of unspoken years pressed into that one hug.

"I'll see you soon, Pa," Adam murmured against his shoulder. "When I'm done, I'll come back home. I promise."

...

It was a teary goodbye from everyone, Ma dabbing her eyes with her apron while Pa stood stiff and silent, though the glimmer in his eyes betrayed him. Adam kept his hand raised as the bus pulled up. With one last look at his parents, he climbed aboard. Inside, the air smelled faintly of fuel and disinfectant. The driver, an older man with graying stubble and a cap pulled over his eyes, barely looked up from his logbook. Adam held out his papers. "Recruit Adam Darwin reporting for training," he said, his voic was calm despite the knot in his chest.

The driver gave a grunt, glanced at the papers, then handed them back. "Head on in, son. Take a seat anywhere."

Adam glanced around... the bus was empty. Rows of worn seats stretched back into the dim interior, the silence heavy enough to press on his ears. He slid into one by the window, dropping his duffel bag at his feet. With a hiss of the brakes, the bus rolled forward, pulling away from the farm road. Adam pressed his forehead lightly against the glass, watching the orchards and fields slip past, his parents shrinking into the distance until they were just figures on the dirt road. He stayed there, eyes fixed until the farm was gone behind the hills.

"Goodbye..." he muttered, to his parents, to his home, to his life.

The ride was quiet. The driver didn't speak, and Adam didn't try. Outside, the countryside rolled by; patchwork fields, broken fences, and stretches of land long abandoned to weeds. Hours seemed to pass before the road bent toward a clearing marked by high fencing and UNSC banners snapping in the wind. Beyond it sat the shuttle pad, and on the pad, a waiting Pelican dropship.

The bus came to a stop. The driver tilted his head without looking back. "End of the line. Good luck, son, thank you for your service."

Adam grabbed his bag, gave the man a quiet "Thanks," and stepped out into the harsh light. The Pelican loomed before him, gray and scarred from years of service. A couple of uniformed personnel waited near the ramp with datapads, their eyes already glancing at him. As Adam stepped closer, one of the uniformed personnel broke off from the group and approached him with an easy grin.

"You're Adam Darwin, right? My, you're a big one, aren't you?" he said with a chuckle.

Adam set his duffel bag on the ground and snapped a sharp salute. "Yes, sir!"

The man waved a hand quickly. "You don't need to do that kind of stuff with me. I'm only human resources, save the saluting for the DS's." His grin widened. "I'm Corporal Lee Davis. I'll be getting you to Sierra Lagos. Shouldn't be long now, but we're waiting on one last body before we head off."

Adam nodded. "No problem, sir. Should I put my bag on the Pelican?"

Corporal Davis gestured to the ramp. "Yeah, go ahead. We shouldn't be here too long, tracker says the other bus is only twenty minutes out."

"Roger that," Adam said, slinging the bag back onto his shoulder and heading up the ramp.

Inside, a couple of crew members were running checks, data pads in their hands as they checked the systems. Adam gave them a polite smile and a nod. "Good afternoon, ma'am." he said as he stepped aboard.

The women exchanged glances, one of them turning pink under his bright blue gaze. "Afternoon, recruit. You can stow your bag over there in the rack," she said, pointing.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." Adam hefted the duffel onto the rack with ease and gave another courteous nod.

"Strap in after that, recruit," another chimed in, showing him the row of webbed crash seats. "Keep the belt snug, turbulence isn't forgiving sometimes."

"Yes, ma'am," Adam replied with a polite grin, moving over to the seats. He lowered himself down but quickly realized the problem—his frame was far too broad. His knees knocked the seat in front, his shoulders pressed the rests, and the harness cut uncomfortably across his chest.

He shifted, tried again, and sighed. "Guess I'm bigger than the standard issue, ma'am," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

One of the crew, watching him with a smile, stepped over and gestured to the back row. "Don't worry, recruit. We've got a couple seats modified for Spartan transfers. They've got a little more space—should fit you better."

Adam's expression softened in relief. "Thank you, ma'am. Much appreciated."

He gathered his gear and moved to the rear row. The Spartan-ready seats were wider, reinforced, with deeper harnesses. He sat down and found, for the first time, that he could actually stretch his legs out a little. Buckling himself in, he gave the crew another nod. "Fits like a charm. Thanks again." The women smiled, one of them still flushed as she busied herself with the checklist. Adam leaned back into the seat, finally able to settle, though the hum of the engines reminded him that his journey was only just beginning.

The Pelican rattled as the engines ran through a test. Adam glanced at the two young women across from him. Both wore standard fatigues, buckled in but relaxed, datapads resting on their laps. For a moment he just sat there, trying not to take up too much room in the oversized seat. Then, with a small smile, he leaned forward slightly. "You two already been through boot?" he asked.

The one on the left looked up first. She had sharp green eyes and a short, practical cut of strawberry-blonde hair. "Yeah," she said, tilting her head. "Why? Nervous?"

Adam chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Not nervous. Just... curious. Figured it's better to hear it from someone who's been there, not a pamphlet or one of those videos."

The other woman, a platinum blonde girl, her hair tied back in a stubby ponytail set her pad aside and smirked. "Boot's never like the pamphlet. The pamphlet doesn't tell you how cold the mornings are, or how bad the chow is."

"That bad?" Adam asked, brows raised.

"Worse," the first one replied with a laugh. "Day three, they gave us eggs. You could throw that damn thing at a wall and it would bounce right back, I swear."

Adam smiled. "Alright, so bad chow, cold mornings. What else?"

The blonde tapped her boot against the floor. "Feet. Take care of your feet. Socks, boots, blisters—you screw that up, you'll regret it. I saw three recruits dropped while rucking 'cause they didn't listen, DS won't care if you're injured, you have to complete every run."

Adam nodded. "Both you and my Pa said the same thing. Feet first, huh? Guess it's true what they say, an army marches on them."

That got a grin out of both of them. The strawberry-blonde leaned forward a little, warming to him. "It's not just the feet. It's... everything. They'll break you down, make you feel like nothing. Then, when you're at your lowest, they start building you up again. You'll hate it. But you'll come out different. Stronger. Meaner, maybe. Definitely tougher."

The blonde added, "And don't think being big is gonna save you. DS's love big guys. Means they've got more to break."

Adam laughed, shaking his head. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the warning, ma'am."

She blinked at the "ma'am" but didn't correct him. Instead she smirked, maybe even blushed a little, before glancing away.

"What about you two?" Adam asked after a moment. "Where'd you come from before this?"

The strawberry-blonde shrugged. "Agriculture colony. Nothing exciting. Figured the Corps was better than pulling weeds the rest of my life."

Adam's expression brightened. "No kidding? I came from a farm myself, down by Darlton. Apples and other fruit, mostly. My Pa kept it all organic, no automation."

Her eyes lifted at that, a spark of interest flickering across them. "That so? Guess you know all about long days and busted backs then."

Adam chuckled. "Sunup to sundown. Fixing fences, hauling crates, feeding stock. Joining the Corps is probably the first time I'll get fewer chores in a day."

That earned a small laugh out of her, and even the blonde beside her smiled despite herself. "Maybe you'll fit right in, then," the strawberry-blonde said smiling at him while tilting her head slightly. Something the other girl noticed and hit her elbow into her.

Adam gave her a polite nod, then glanced at both of them. "That's the plan. Still, I'd rather learn from people who've already been through it. You two got any tips? Things the pamphlets don't mention?"

The blonde leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. "Plenty. First? Don't volunteer. Ever. Doesn't matter what it is. If a DS asks, you keep your eyes straight. Volunteering means extra work, extra pain, and extra attention. And trust me, you don't want attention."

The strawberry-blonde smirked. "Except when they're handing out sweets on mail day. Always volunteer then."

Adam laughed, shaking his head. "Alright. Don't volunteer, unless it's for candy. Got it."

"Second," the blonde continued, "hide a second pair of socks somewhere on you. Always. Doesn't matter where. Belt, pack, even taped inside your shirt. DS's love to take socks as a punishment on runs, but they can't take what they don't find, and when your feet start bleeding on a march, that hidden pair'll save your life."

Adam raised his brows. "That's a good one. I'll keep it in mind."

The strawberry-blonde leaned in slightly, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "And if you ever get kitchen duty, sneak an extra roll or two into your pocket. Nobody talks about it, but everybody does it. Chow tastes like cardboard, but when you're starving at night, that extra bread feels like heaven."

Adam grinned giving them both a warm smile that made their chests tighten slightly. "Appreciate the honesty, ma'am. I'm sure Boot Camp's going to be a breeze now." Giving them both a wink.

The two women shared another glance, and this time both of them smiled. Oh I think you'll do fine big guy," the strawberry-blonde said.

Before Adam could answer the last bit of advice, Corporal Davis stepped up the ramp. "Enough chitchat, ladies. We've got our last recruit here, so start pre-launch sequence."

"Yes, sir," both of the privates said at once, their voices snapping into formality. They bent back to their tasks immediately, fingers tapping across their datapads. Davis stepped aside and gestured to the young woman who had followed him in. "Recruit Darwin, this is your fellow recruit, Irina Sokolova. She doesn't say much, so you'll have to do all the talking for her."

Adam rose slightly from his seat, curious. The girl looked to be about his age... nineteen, maybe twenty. She had dark brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, pale skin kissed faintly by the sun, and a build that was wiry, athletic.

Adam smiled warmly. "I'm Adam. Nice to meet you," he said, extending a large hand.

Irina looked at him for a moment, her face unreadable, then gave a small nod. She didn't speak, but she reached out and gripped his hand firmly before letting go.

"Strong shake," Adam said with a small chuckle. "Guess I don't need to ask if you'll pull your weight."

Her lips quirked, the faintest trace of a smirk, before she settled into the seat opposite him. She said nothing, her eyes already moving to the bulkhead as the Pelican's engines built up a rumble. Adam leaned back, unbothered at her lack of an answer. He didn't press her for words. Instead, he offered an easy smile. "No problem. I can handle the talking for the both of us."

One of the privates who had been speaking with Adam earlier gave him a sidelong glance, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. Corporal Davis checked his datapad and raised his voice over the engine noise. "Alright recruits, strap in. Pelican lifts in ten seconds."

The rumble of the Pelican grew louder as it lifted off the tarmac, artificial gravity kicking in just enough to keep them steady. The other lrivates focused on their datapads or stared out the narrow portholes. Adam glanced toward Irina. She sat straight, hands folded loosely on her lap, eyes calm but alert.

He didn't want to crowd her, but silence wasn't really his thing.

"My ma always said you can learn a lot about someone just by sitting near 'em long enough," he said casually, voice low so it didn't carry across the cabin. "If they're quiet, listen harder."

Irina didn't react much, but she shifted slightly in her seat, a subtle acknowledgment that she was at least aware of him. That was good enough for Adam.

"You from one of the core worlds?" he asked gently.

She shook her head.

"Outer colony?"

She nodded.

"Nice. Never been off Earth myself, but I hear the outer colonies have skies like nothing else." He gave a small chuckle. "I have always wanted to go into space, it's one of the things I'm most looking forward to about my recruitment, finally getting to go up there."

There wasn't much reaction from her face, but he did catch her looking at him even though it was only for a second. He smiled. "My ma had this saying," he went on, "She said, 'Don't wait for someone to speak to be their friend. Sometimes the best friends are the ones who say the least.'"

At that, Irina blinked slowly and gave the barest nod.

"I guess what I'm saying is... you don't gotta talk for me to enjoy the company," Adam added with a shrug. "But if you ever want to talk, I'm a pretty good listener. And I don't judge. My family always said I was too forgiving, but Ma also said 'Better a soft heart than a hard tongue.'"

That one got a tiny smirk. Barely there... but definitely there. Adam smiled wider, but didn't press. He let the silence stretch, as much as he liked to talk, he didn't mind silences. After a while, he tried again. "You ever fire a real weapon before?"

Irina raised a hand and tilted it side to side. Sort of.

"Guess that's a half-yes. I've only handled old rifles. But they say we'll be learning everything from scratch in boot."

He paused, thinking for a moment.

"You nervous?" he asked honestly.

There was a pause. Then slowly, Irina nodded.

Adam let it hang for a beat, then tilted his head. "The corporal is as right you don't talk much, do you?"

Irina gave the faintest shake of her head.

Adam thought for a moment, then raised his hands. *You don't speak?*

Her eyes widened in surprise. She blinked at him, then slowly signed back, *I can't. Mute.*

Adam's expression softened. He didn't pry, didn't ask why. He just nodded. Then he signed back, *Good to meet you, Irina. I hope we get along.* his Ma had always told him that he'd meet different people from all walks of life and it ain't anything bad just makes life more interesting.

She studied him for a moment, clearly not used to someone answering her in sign. Then, with the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips, she signed, *me too.*

The Pelican jolted as turbulence rocked through the cabin. A few private's tensed, knuckles white on their straps. Adam leaned back, hands folded over his harness as if it was nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Irina relax just a fraction more. The ride was a little bumpy, but nothing that worried Adam much. He figured even if they crashed, he'd probably walk it off.

With a loud hydraulic hiss and a thud of locking clamps, the Pelican touched down. A second later, the rear ramp began to lower, revealing a wide stretch of ferrocrete runway and the massive expanse beyond it.

Corporal Davis came down from the cockpit, tapping the wall with his hand as he passed. "Alright, recruits, this is it. Welcome to Sierra Largo Training Base," he said with a grin. "You'll both be assigned to Bunkhouse Echo-One. That's where your Drill Sergeant will find you. So stow your civvie nerves and get your asses moving."

"Yes, sir," Adam said, grabbing his bag and standing up.

Irina simply salute, slinging her own duffel over her shoulder in a single motion. The corporal nodded at her in return. As they stepped off the Pelican, the sheer scale of the base hit Adam like a hammer.

Everywhere he looked, there was movement. Dozens of Pelicans hovered in formation above the flight line, some landing, others taking off. Long columns of fresh recruits were being marched by shouting drill instructors. In the distance, massive concrete towers loomed like fortresses, likely containing officer barracks, training centers, and administrative offices. Smoke from live-fire ranges curled into the air far to the east, while rows of drop pods glinted under the sunlight, lined up like bullets in a magazine.

There had to be thousands... no, tens of thousands of recruits.

Adam slowed slightly as they passed an open quad. He looked around with wide eyes. It felt like there were more people here than in all of Darlton. Hell, maybe all of the valley combined. He spotted one squad jogging past them in step, their Drill Sergeant running backward as he barked a cadence:

"I don't know what I've been told—"

("I don't know what I've been told!")

"Spartan pussy is mighty cold—"

("Spartan pussy is mighty cold!")

"Mighty cold—"

("Mighty cold!")

"Damn good—"

("Damn good!")

Adam let out a surprised snort of laughter. "Well... that's one way to motivate," he muttered.

Irina raised an eyebrow but didn't react much beyond that. She kept walking with the same wuick walk, eyes flicking from structure to structure as she quietly catalogued the environment. They followed painted signs toward Echo-One, weaving past fuel trucks, logistics convoys, and recruits in various stages of training, some already in PT, others hauling gear across the base.

Eventually, they reached the bunkhouses.

Echo-One was a long, dull gray building with segmented windows and thick concrete walls, built low and wide like most things on military installations. A large metal placard bolted to the front displayed ECHO-1 in thick stencil font, with the UNSC eagle perched just above it.

"I guess this is us," Adam said looking towards Irina who only looked forward with a blank expression on her face. However, Adam was able to pick up that she was a little nervous based on a few micro expressions on her face. "I'm sure it'll be fine," he said to her trying to comfort her slightly.

At this Irina turned around and gave him a little nod.

Adam opened the door and walked inside. The bunkhouse had four different sections. In each section there was four beds, and in the middle seemed to be a communal area. It also seemed like they were the last people here, Adam walked in with Irina in his shadow. They headed to the only available bunks where there were two other women lounging on their beds. One of them had very curly auburn hair that was so thick and long it looked like a wig, she had her shoes off, dressed in her civie clothes as she read a magazine. The other had short blonde hair in a pixie cut, she was laying upside down on the bed playing a handhold game.

Adam slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and offered a friendly smile. "Hey girls. Hope you don't mind if we grab these last two bunks?"

The girl with the curls looked up from her magazine, giving him a once-over. "Be my guest, big guy," she said. "I'm Dizzy. Dizzy Flores. And the gremlin over there frying her brain is Cassie."

"Cassie Cage," the blonde added without looking up. "I hear the DS's are brutal, so I'm getting in all the fun I can now."

Adam chuckled as he dropped his bag near the empty bunk. "I'm Adam Darwin. This is Irina Sokolova." Irina gave a polite nod.

Cassie flipped upright and sat cross-legged. "Damn. You're like a whole two inches taller than the biggest guy I've seen here."

"I get that a lot," Adam said with a small grin. "Promise I'm friendly though."

Dizzy set her magazine aside, folding it neatly before propping herself up on one elbow, her curls spilling over like a cascade of autumn leaves. "Friendly's a start. Most guys your size come in swinging like they own the place. You from some backwater farm or what? You got that whole salt of the earth vibe going on."

Adam laughed softly, unzipping his duffel to pull out a neatly folded stack of clothes. "Guilty as charged. Darwin family farm, down by Darlton. Apples and other fruits mostly. What about you two? City girls, I'm guessing?"

Cassie snorted, tossing her handheld game onto the mattress beside her and stretching her legs out with a dramatic sigh. "City? Try the heart of it, Los Angeles, all neon lights and clubs that never close. Dad's in the biz, you know? Movies, award shows, the whole celebrity circus. Mom's the reason I'm here though. She figured enlisting would 'toughen me up' after I flunked out of that fancy academy she shoved me into."

Adam raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Didn't your dad have anything to say about that?" He asked.

"Dad? Pfft. Too busy playing the doting husband to say no. Said it'd be 'good for the family image' or some bullshit. Like I give a damn about his poster-boy legacy," Cassie said rolling her eyes as she moved onto her stomach and waved her feet back and forth.

Dizzy rolled her eyes, swinging her legs over the edge of the bunk to sit up fully, her bare feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. "Yeah, well, at least your folks were eating caviar off of golden spoons. Mine were scraping by in Buenos Aires, my folks work down in some of the factories there."

Adam nodded slowly. "I'm surprised they got jobs there, factories are supposed to be all automated."

Dizzy nodded. "They're lucky they have some engineering qualifications, they perform maintenance on the bots."

Adam looked impressed. "What about you, how'd you end up here?"

Dizzy sighed as she slammed her body back onto her bunk."I was this close to going pro in Powerball, you know? Scored a spot on the junior league team, had scouts sniffing around after that championship run. But my grades tanked, and I couldn't get my spot, so here I am, trading cleats for boots. Figured if I can't hit the gridiron, might as well get my citizenship."

Adam nodded, sliding his clothes into the narrow locker beside his bunk. "Powerball? That's the one with the grav-balls and the full-contact tackles, right? Sounds brutal. I've never played it myself. And LA... man, I've only seen it in vids. All those towers scraping the clouds, people everywhere. Must be a shock coming from that to... well, this." He gestured vaguely at the bunkhouse.

Cassie smirked. "Shock? Try culture whiplash. Back home, I could call up a hover-limmo and hit a club any time of the day, no questions. Here? It's all 'yes sir, no sir,' and chow that looks like it crawled out of the Drill Sergeants ass. But hey, at least the view's improving." She tilted her head toward him, her pixie cut catching the overhead light. "After service you ever think about ditching the farm life for something flashier? With that build, you could've been Dad's next co-star."

Dizzy chuckled, picking at a loose thread on her civvie shorts. "Don't let her fool you, Adam. Cassie's got the silver-screen blood, but she's all bark till the DS cracks the whip. What's your story, farm boy? Family push you into this?"

Adam paused, settling onto the edge of his bunk with a creak of the frame under his weight. "Nah, it was my call. Ma and Pa... they're good people, but the farm's hanging on by a thread these days. Earth's not what it used to be, taxes eating us alive. Pa fought in the Insurrection, got banged up before he could finish his service, so no citizenship for them. Figured I could step up, knock out their mandatory time since they're over fifty-five. Gets 'em the papers, clears the debts. Plus, honestly? I've always wanted to see what's out there."

Cassie tilted her head, her smirk softening just a fraction as she crossed her arms. "Damn, that's... noble or something. Most guys join up to chase tail or blow shit up. You sound like you actually read the fine print on the enlistment vids. Mom would've loved you 'See, Cassie? Real men serve.'" She mocked her mother's voice, before glancing sideways at Dizzy. "What about you, Diz? You ever regret bailing on the Powerball dream? I mean, one bad semester, and poof... bug bait instead of glory?"

Dizzy shrugged, her curls bouncing with the motion. "Regret? Every damn day. But can't do anything about it now. Besides, who knows? Maybe I'll get a transfer to base security, and avoid getting dropped onto one of those bug planets."

Cassie stretched out and folded her arms behind her head, glancing toward the quiet figure by the locker. "What about your friend over there?" she asked, nodding toward Irina. "She yours or just following your gravitational pull?"

Adam chuckled. "That's Irina Sokolova. We rode the Pelican in together. She's..." He glanced over at her, where she was unpacking her duffel in complete silence. "She doesn't speak much."

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "What, she got beef with you already or just not the chatty type?"

Adam looked over to Irina, then back to the girls. "She's mute," he said softly. "She can hear just fine, though."

There was a short pause. Irina didn't even glance their way—she was stacking her standard-issue gear into the locker with military-level neatness, her jaw set, her eyes focused on the task like nothing else existed.

Cassie blinked. "Oh. Shit. I mean—" She sat up straighter, her tone shifting. "Didn't mean to be a dick about it."

"It's fine," Adam said, waving it off. "I'm sure she doesn't mind. Just prefers quiet, I think."

Dizzy, now cross-legged on her bunk, shrugged casually. "Hey, whatever works. I get more than enough noise from rich girl over here anyway." She jabbed a thumb at Cassie, who rolled her eyes.

"I'm a refined conversationalist, thank you," Cassie said, flipping her pillow and dramatically collapsing onto it. "But yeah, no hard feelings. We all got our own stuff."

"Exactly," Adam said with a nod. He looked back at Irina and gave a small smile. She didn't meet his eye, but he caught the slight shift in her posture. He could tell it was a subtle acknowledgment that she appreciated the gesture.

Dizzy tilted her head. "She cool with you talking for her, then? You two knew each other before this?"

"Nope," Adam said. "Met her on the flight in. I'm sure we are gonna be friends though. ."

Cassie made a thoughtful noise. "Weirdly wholesome. I'm into it."

"Ma always said," Adam added, smiling faintly, "Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet.'"

Cassie snorted at that, flopping dramatically back onto her bunk and tossing her arm over her eyes. "Alright, that's it. You're either a serial killer or the most annoyingly sincere guy I've ever met."

Dizzy grinned, shaking her head as she leaned back against her pillow. "Don't mind her. That's just Cassie's way of saying she likes you."

"I'll take it," Adam said with a laugh, glancing again at Irina. She was sitting on the edge of her bunk now, legs crossed neatly, still quiet, but her shoulders weren't as tight as before. Her hands rested in her lap, her eyes watching them from under lowered lashes.

"You good, Irina?" he asked, tilting his head.

She looked at him for a beat, then nodded once. A quick flick of her fingers followed.

*Thanks*

Adam smiled and signed back.

*You're welcome*

Dizzy watched the exchange curiously. "You actually know sign?"

Cassie snorted with amusement as Adam finished signing. "You seriously joined the Corps and learned sign language just because it might come in handy?"

Adam rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. "Well... yeah. Figured it might help if I ever had a teammate who couldn't speak, or a superior who needed quick silent comms. I like being ready, I guess."

Dizzy raised her eyebrows, impressed. "That's actually kind of awesome. Do you know any other languages?"

Adam nodded casually. "All the ones still officially used in the UNSC. English, of course. But also Mandarin, Spanish, Arabic, Hindi, Russian, Swahili, a few others. Standard colonial dialects too."

Cassie sat up straighter. "Wait what?"

"Bullshit," Dizzy said, eyes narrowing playfully. "Say something in Hindi."

Adam grinned, switching his tone as easily as flipping a switch.

"तुम्हें विश्वास नहीं है, है ना?"

("You don't believe me, do you?")

Then he smoothly transitioned.

"¿Y tú? ¿De dónde eres?"

("And you? Where are you from?")

And finally:

"Вы выглядите удивлёнными."

("You both look surprised.")

Cassie's mouth dropped open a little. "Okay. So what are you, a genius or something?"

Adam chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah. I just find stuff like that easy. Numbers, memory stuff, patterns. Languages sort of click for me."

Dizzy leaned forward, squinting at him. "Alright, smart guy. What did you get on your AAT?"

"2400," Adam said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

"Two thousand four hundred!?" they both shouted at the same time, voices echoing slightly off the barrack walls.

Cassie threw a sock at him. "What the fuck are you doing here?! Anything over 1800 gets you a direct fast track to Officer's Academy!"

"Really?" Adam blinked. "Huh. I never knew that."

Dizzy fell back onto her bunk laughing. "Oh my god. You absolute farm-brained himbo. You could've skipped basic altogether!"

Cassie was cackling, holding her stomach. "You're telling me you had a golden ticket and still chose to show up for bug duty with the rest of us?!"

Adam grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "I just thought I should earn it the same way everyone else does. Don't really like skipping the hard parts."

"Unbelievable," Dizzy muttered, still laughing. "Smartest guy in the room, no common sense."

"Ma always said," Adam replied with a smile, "'Brains are only half the equation. The other half is knowing what they're good for.'"

Cassie wiped a tear from her eye. "God help you, Darwin."

Irina, from her bunk, signed something under her breath with a flick of her fingers. *They're right. You're strange.*

Adam caught it and laughed quietly to himself.

A loud cheer erupted from the far end of the barracks catching the attention of the group. Adam glanced past Irina. He saw a cluster of recruits huddled around the pool table in the communal area. Four men dominated the space. They jostled one another and joked around. One of them pinned a skinny recruit against the table's edge. The kid writhed in place trying to get loose but the guys were a lot bigger than him, his terrified eyes darted behind glasses that had slipped halfway down his face. "Hold him steady," the instigator barked. "He needs a proper taste of the Welcome Special."

A third recruit clambered onto the table. His broad shoulders strained against his shirt. Badly bleached hair fell in front of his face like a mopl. He positioned himself ass-first above the pinned boy. "A little crop dusting for the runt," he announced. "Someone fetch a lighter. We're firing up a full plasma jet."

Cassie gagged audibly. She pressed a hand to her mouth. "Jesus. What is it with guys and farts?"

Dizzy shook her head. Disgust flickered across her features. "Yeah, it's been 'cake fart this' and 'chemsex that' since we touched down here."

"Guys are the same no matter where you go," Cassie commented. "No offense, Adam."

"None taken," Adam replied. He shrugged off the comment with a faint smile. Then he rose from his bunk. The frame creaked in protest as his full height unfolded. They watched him cross the room, though honestly that wasn't hard considering how tall he was. In fact everyone turned and watched as the relative giant walked across the room towards the pool table. "Hey," he said in a firm tone. "That's enough. Let him go."

The four turned as one. The bleach-blond figure on the table froze mid-descent, then in one smooth motion he pulled up his pants and jumped off the pool table and approached Adam. The man was tall, an inch or two above 6 feet but he was still shorter than Adam and had to look up to him. "What's it to you?" he demanded.

"Name's Adam," he answered calmly. He met the man's glare without a flicker. "And it's something to me because we're all walking into the same boot camp. We're all here to become marines. One day, this guy might cover your back when you're in the field. What you do now? He'll remember it. You'd remember it too, if the tables turned."

Silence gripped the group. Adam stood unmoved he didn't look intimidated nor did he care that there were four people there. The leader snorted. "Come on, boys. Let's roll. We'll see how long Mr. Golden Boy lasts when boot camp really starts."

He turned on his heel and the other fell in behind him as they returned to their bunks.

Cassie let out a low whistle. Admiration edged her voice. "Okay, Darwin. Damn."

Dizzy had a smile on her face too. "Nice to see not all the men we are bunked with are damn animals."

Adam turned back to the pool table. The kid sat up now. He shoved his glasses back into place. His hands fumbled to haul his pants upward. A deep flush stained his cheeks.

"You alright?" Adam asked.

The boy nodded fast. Gratitude softened his features. "Yeah. Yeah, I—uh. Thanks." He extended a hand. "I'm Miles. Miles Hardin."

"Adam Darwin," he replied. He clasped the offered hand in a firm shake. "Don't worry about it. They were being dicks ."

Miles managed a shy smile. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything, but they were in the way and I just wanted to snag my locker assignment."

Adam shrugged. "You didn't do a thing wrong." He slapped the guy on the back.

The two walked back toward the bunks. Miles trailed a step behind. He still trembled faintly but forced himself to keep up with thr man. "You from Earth?"

"Yeah. Darlton. Farm boy, born and raised."

"I'm from Harmony. Small colony out on the fringe.?"

"I've heard it have a beautiful moon," Adam said. A chuckle warmed his words.

Before Miles could reply a loud sound echoed out through the bunkhouse.

"ATTENTION ON DECK!"

A door slammed open. A sharply dressed Corporal stood just inside, barking the order at full volume. In stepped a tall, wide-shouldered Drill Sergeant in a black campaign hat and immaculate combat fatigues.

Instantly, every recruit stood at the end of their bunks their back straight and their arms by their side. Cassie, Dizzy, Adam and Irina all looking forward and being completely silent. For some that was easier than the others.

The Drill Sergeant just stood there for a moment looking at all of the recruits a deep scowl on his face, so deep that the recruits wondered if he had ever looked any other way.

"Never have I, in all my life, seen such a sorry excuse for a squad of marines. You sacks of shit look like you're fresh off your mama's tit!

Half of you ain't even in your damn fatigues! What do you think this is? Summer camp?"

His boots stomped once — hard.

"GET in your uniforms, soldiers, and be OUTSIDE in FIVE!"

He didn't wait for a response. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the bunkhouse with the corporal close behind.

The moment the drill sergeant stormed out of the barracks, the tension broke like a glass underfoot. No one spoke at first. There was only the scrape of boots, the hiss of lockers opening, and the rustle of fatigues being yanked into place.

Adam reached into his locker and pulled out his issued uniform. The olive drab shirt clung slightly to his fingers, still stiff from packaging. As he peeled off his own shirt, the room seemed to still for just a moment. His upper body was carved with muscle, the kind of physique that looked like it had been built by work, not vanity. Every line of his torso spoke of strength earned by labor, not sculpted in a gym.

Cassie stared as he unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers in one smooth motion.

"Jesus," she said, blinking slowly as if trying to process what she was seeing. "Darwin, do you store spare rations in your chest or what?"

Dizzy, halfway through tying her boots, shot her a look. "Oh my god, Cass. You're a damn predator."

Adam pulled on his fatigues without rush or shame. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. "It's alright," he said. "I'm used to drawing stares. Back home, it was the cows doing most of the looking."

Cassie rolled her eyes but grinned. Dizzy shook her head and muttered something about thirst traps in the infantry.

"I guess this is it," Adam said to all of them, Irina included. They all looked at him as if the question what he meant. He gave them all a smile.

"It's the end of our Civilian life for the next five years, in the next twelve weeks we will be UNSC Marines."

Cassie chuckled. "Oorah."

(AN: So Adam has made it to basic training, and he has met what will be his fireteam members. Cassie Cage is from Mortal Kombat obviously, Dizzy Flores is from Starship troopers and Irina Sokolova... she's a lot harder to figure out right. Well I did my research and I couldn't find a name for her, only her code name so I made up this name. I'm sure you might be able to guess who she is next chapter.)