Free Prophet of ConFree (The Prophet of ConFree) by Marshall S. Thomas Page B

enlisted, and work our way through the ranks, by merit, to officer status if we deserve it, sir!" I had very little doubt that he would deserve it, and that he would probably reach general rank, assuming he avoided death on the battlefield. I knew ConFree was fortunate to have allied itself with the ethnic remnants of the old Assidic Empire. They had been formidable foes and now they were formidable allies. Even a bit scary, I thought. I could just imagine him ordering me to follow him in a suicidal charge into a DefCorps crossfire.
    "Good. Thanks. That leaves you, Fordwater. Go ahead." Fordwater was the little blonde angel that I had been admiring from a distance.
    "My name is Celinia Fordwater," she said, in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "I'm from Magna 4." She was so petite and her pale face was so flawless she looked about fourteen but I knew she had to be at least seventeen. Her hair was so blonde it appeared almost white and her eyes, I could see now, were a startling icy grey. "Magna 4 was a difficult environment and the Legion gets a lot of volunteers there, but I liked it," she said. "I wanted to stay, but I refuse to be exploited. That's why I'm here."
    At first Doggie looked like he was going to ask for more details, but he evidently decided against it. "Thank you, Fordwater. All right, take fifteen and don't leave the squadmod. We're going to go over tomorrow's activities." I knew Magna 4 was an extremely challenging iceworld with exceedingly valuable ore deposits. Fertile ground for exploitation, if nothing else.
    Δ
    "All right, is everyone ready? Got full canteens? Good!" Doggie faced us as we lined up outside the squadmod. We were wearing field hats and clad in khaki shorts and sleeveless tops and running shoes, canteens hooked to web belts. It was a fresh clear morning, a cloudless sky. Veltros's rising sun was blood red on the horizon. "Go easy on the water, as there'll be no refills. There's only one rule: Finish the run. If you drop out, you'll be dropped from the squad. And no helping – we all make it on our own. Keep that in mind. Now, follow me. Double time!" And he set out, down the road.
    We followed, through morning mists, jogging through the massive base. From time to time we spotted other squads also up and running. I felt great. I had enjoyed a dreamless sleep before being shocked awake by Doggie clanging a huge metal bell. Ten marks in the head, then out into the morning with no breakfast. Fine – we'll have a little run. I could do that.
    We headed roughly south, I could tell from the position of the sun, past a massive aircar base, past a military hospital, then into undeveloped land along a footpath towards a big, irregularly-shaped mountain ridge that was cast into shadow. It looked as if our footpath would take us there.
    "Think we're going up that hill?" I asked Overmar, who was jogging beside me.
    "Yep."
    "Think we'll go to the top?"
    "Yep."
    "Damn. How many K do you think it is?"
    "Six and a half K to the top and maybe another six or so K to return, depending on what route we take."
    "How do you know that?"
    "It's in your Basic Field Manual. I was looking over the maps last night."
    "How long do you think it will take?"
    "Depends on how fast we go."
    "Right. Thanks!"
    "Sure." He wasn't even sweating. It looked like he was in good shape. I wasn't so sure about myself. I hadn't done any athletics in school, other than chasing girls around.
    Δ
    Half way up the hill, I was beginning to worry. I was getting tired, sweat was pouring off my brow, and a hot haze was swirling around my head. The foot trail was clear of vegetation, torn from the environment by generations of Legion recruits, winding around cliffs and ravines and boulders and trees, always upwards. Our pace had slowed but Doggie was always there to urge us on. It was hot as hell. The sun was beating straight down on us. Tree roots were tangled up all over the trail and it was easy to trip over them.
    "Did I say to slow