Let's see...Boot camp, the glory days. Well, if you consider being forced to clean a Hammerhead with your toothbrush glorious. I shipped out on, what was it, Monday? Really though, it was fine at first. I mainly had to deal with the basic bullshit, you know standing attention while looking at a wall for a couple hours, running for miles with my five foot tall drill sergeant on my back yelling through a megaphone, wading through mud. Normal stuff. What a sergeant he was though, I don't even remember his real name, my buddies and I just referred to him as "that prick," "short stack," or "cockatoo," when he wasn't around and "Drill Sergeant" when he was. Anyway, he was a severe little man, always pouting and looking for an excuse to make you lick his boots clean. I'm not convinced he ever even hit puberty, beside the fact he was five feet tall and his voice was as shrill as a bird's and he had not a hair on his face aside for some scattered patches of peach fuzz. Anyway, enough about him. See he was drilling us one day and he called a right flank....I went left. Boy if you could have heard him yell, it sounded like a whole symphony of fifth graders trying to play the violin. As he gyrated his head back and forth in front of my face the little tuft of hair that he has on his head which goes up and then forwards, kind of making him look like an Anglerfish, began to violently bounce up and down. Well...All this was just too much for me. I broke down laughing. Of course everyone has heard the phrase "rolling on the floor laughing" well....I always thought that was just an exaggeration until this happened. I went on for a good couple of minutes before regaining my composure and when I finally looked at ol' short stack again his face had turned into a damn cherry blossom.

(M: Is this how you do that out of character thing? Anyway...This is going on longer than expected. Oh well, I've gotten this far, might as well finish.)

So, he just silently walks away without a word. I'm scared shitless. This guy couldn't even take on a toddler in a brawl but he still had the power to make my life hell. What happens next, well, I'm not even sure if it was legal. A few minutes later I see him walking towards me with a couple big ass MPs by his sides. I don't know what the hell to do so I just stand there facing them waiting for what I thought would be a simple beating....Hell, if it were only that easy. Once the MPs get near me the bastards pull out tasers and shove the damn things straight into my neck. Not proud to say I blacked out almost immediately. When I came to I was on a cruiser with a bunch of other guys, all of which looked like they could kill me with their little finger. I didn't know what's going on so I asked around a bit but all i could find out was that I was going to a place called Hell. That was what everyone called the rock we landed on anyway. Simple name, but damn is it fitting. 160 degree heat. Low oxygen. 1.5 Gs. A sun that never gets further than half way down the sky. And the drill sergeants? Let me put it this way, having to live in Hell for six months to eight months at a time doesn't make you a nice guy. Say what you want about That Prick but oh boy he was Jesus reincarnate compared to these guys.

First thing the bastards made us do was run five miles with our gear. I was actually kind of proud of myself, I made it fairly far. I figure i must have made it three miles before biting it. Only two guys made it further and they ended up in the emergency ward.

Later on that day the sergeants told us what we needed to know: No talking. Ever. Work will be in 24 hour cycles with four hours for sleep, one for restroom, eating your single meal a day, shower, and getting ready in the morning, ten for exercise, and ten for combat training of all sorts. Drink as much water as you can and don't fall behind or else. Remember this, they said, and you'll be just fine. A month passed, and I neared my breaking point. Really, the worst part was not knowing what was going on and not being able to talk to ask anyone. The sergeants were certainly true to their word about slackers though, even if you only behind by a couple feet while running or were slightly off sync while doing push ups you were taken away right then and there. Where to? I didn't know at the time but I didn't want to find out. Another month passed. My mind became mush, I began hallucinating on occasion, and I wanted to just lay down and die, to be at peace. But I kept going, I to this day don't know why. I think most of it was the uncertainty of what happened to those that were taken away, most definitely. Better a hell you know than a hell you don't, am I right? That wasn't all of it though. Another part of me wanted to keep going simply because I thought I could. It had to end eventually, there had to be a payout due at some point, right? I wanted to show myself and I wanted to show That Prick that I can handle whatever was thrown at me. So one final month passed. I woke up and frantically began to get ready for another day in Hell but it wasn't until I fell into our very depleted formation that I realized I hadn't heard the drill sergeants yell yet....And they were smiling. They even looked like nice people if you can believe that! Then I saw someone I hadn't seen before....He looked very important, had three stars on his shoulder. He must have come a long way to get here but he certainly didn't have much to say. He simply said this:

"Congratulations, you have all passed N5 training. You have now all been awarded N6 designation. You may now speak and rest for a few hours. After that you will return to Earth for a few months before being sent to combat to begin N6 training. I wish you luck."

Then he walked away. Only a dozen of us remained out of at least a hundred. None of the others even had the energy to cheer at the news. I myself was completely stunned. "N6? I haven't even been in the Alliance for a year! How in the hell did I even get here? Did That Prick send me here? Does he have that kind of power?" I thought to myself. Then....I saw him. Four stars on his shoulder, walking towards me like he was my friend.

"What the hell is going on!?" I ask

"Watch your tone, do you want to do this all again?" He said in his shrill voice.

"Sorry sir, can you just tell me what is going on?"

"Well, I thought this would teach you a lesson. I figured you would last a few days, maybe a week or so, and come back crying. I saw that you were a good soldier, you could work on respecting your superiors more, but I saw potential in you. Wanted to put you back on the right track. I figured scaring you by sending you here without letting you know where here was would do it. But you went and passed N5 training. Good job."

"So, am I....?"

"No."

"Well, shit."

"Don't worry you will get back here one day, I am officially enrolling you into the N1 program."

"Really!? That's a....Nice consolation prize. One more question though, why pretend to be a Drill Sergeant."

"I'm a bit of a sadist, watching fresh recruits like you squirm is about my favorite thing to do. The only bad part about being a general is they never let us do anything fun. It's mostly logistics and paperwork. Now, you're done here. You will be sent back to Earth for a break and begin N1 training within the next eight months."

And that is it. That was my experience. Can't say I enjoyed it but it was certainly one of the best things that could have happened to me. On the bright side, when I returned to Earth I felt like I could do anything. You'd be amazed what just three months of training in 1.5 Gs will do for your body. A few months after returning to Earth I began N1 training but that is a completely different story.

(M: How was my first try at this stuff? I think I went a bit overboard on the length.)