Free Marines by Jay Allan

complete attention.  You could have heard a pin drop in the room.
    "Those of you who do graduate will join the most elite combat formation in the history of the world.  You will serve wherever you are needed, anywhere in explored space, and you will perform that service with valor and distinction.  And after you make your first assault, all of your past crimes and offenses will be wiped clean."
    That was the first hopeful thing he'd said.  A bit of carrot to go with the stick.
    "But first you have to complete training.  The regimen is unlike anything soldiers have experienced before, and when you have completed it you will be the deadliest human killing machines that have ever existed.
    "But before you even begin your training proper, you are all going to the infirmary.  You have had varying health care priority levels, most of them pretty low, so you haven't had much medical care.  Well now you are going to have every treatable deficiency corrected.  Plus, we're going to make some improvements to the original design.  When we're done you will all see and hear better than any civilian, and you will have enhanced reflexes. 
    "After you are released from medical, you're going to do six months of basic field training.  Trust me, whatever you think you've been through before, field training is going to teach you the true meaning of physical fitness.  You'll probably all survive the medical procedures, but some of you will die during field training.  So take it seriously."
    That was the second time he mentioned dying in training.  I figured it wouldn't be the last.
    "After we get you in decent physical shape you're all going to go through a customized remedial education program.  Honestly, you're all ignorant and uneducated - totally unqualified to serve in my marine corps.  But we're going to fix that.  A marine private has the equivalent of a six-year post primary education, and you're going to get it in less than a third of the time it takes lazy civilians. 
    "Then, we're going to teach you to kill.  I know your backgrounds, and a lot of you think you already know how, but take my word for it, you are all amateurs.  We are going to make you professionals. Stone cold death machines that strike terror into the hearts of our enemies. 
    "You think you're tough because you abused or murdered a few helpless workers?  Or even another tough guy gang member?"  He laughed derisively for a few seconds, the first sound that came out of his mouth that wasn't flawlessly polite.  "I've personally killed at least 75 men and women, and troops under my command have killed over 50,000.  And all of them were shooting back.  So if I were you, I'd pay very close attention to your training, because all of your instructors are combat veterans who have been where you are going and came back to tell about it.
    "Of course, you need to get through your training first before you have to worry about surviving combat, and it's going to take everything you've got to get to graduation.  And if you wash out, remember - you go back to wherever we found you.  For almost half of you that's death row; for most of the rest it's some miserable cesspool where your life expectancy ranges from a few weeks to a few years.
    "We offer all of you a chance at redemption, but our price is high.  Your mind, body, soul, and every last measure of effort you can muster.  If you fail we will leave you dead and bloody on the training field.  Or I will personally sign the order to haul your sorry ass back to whatever hangman we snatched you from."
    He stopped for a few seconds and methodically scanned the room.  Every eye in the place was trained on him.  It wasn't just what he said; it was the way he said it.  I'd never seen anyone with such a commanding presence and serene confidence.  He hadn't raised his voice or spoken an angry word, yet he'd been as ominous and threatening as anything I'd ever encountered.
    I'd been living in a world of angry