Bjorn by Osborne Jon R

Author:Osborne, Jon R.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Seventh Seal Press
Published: 2019-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 21

Las Cruces, New Mexico

“Form up! For those of you who are new here, I am MST Sergeant Kimble. My comrades call me Snake. You will address me as Sergeant Kimble! Is that clear, you little pukes?” The Mercenary Service Track trainer stalked along the line of high school seniors. A tattoo of a snake wound its way around the sergeant’s bicep.

They were in preparations to take their Voluntary Off-world Assessment exams. The battery of tests would generate scores used by potential mercenary employers to gauge their prospects. They wouldn’t be a big deal since Bjorn had no intention of becoming a mercenary. However, if he couldn’t play sports, the competitive voice in his mind urged him to get as good a score as possible.

“Am I boring you, newbie?” Sergeant Kimble shouted in Bjorn’s face.

“No, Sergeant!” Bjorn responded. What was the sergeant saying?

“Your slack-jawed drooling says otherwise, newbie. What did I just say?” Sergeant Kimble demanded.

“The days alternate on a weekly basis, Sergeant.” Thank Odin for his pinplants. “This week is Tuesday and Thursday, next week is Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

Sergeant Kimble stepped back, still glaring. “You look familiar. What’s your name?”

Bjorn suppressed a gulp. “Bjorn Tovesson the Third.”

“You’re from Mesilla Prep, aren’t you? You’re the quarterback who had a meltdown and got kicked out of private school. Well, welcome to the real world, princess. I don’t care if you’re the son of a merc commander, and I don’t care if you’re a varsity all-star. Here, you’re another maggot. Got it?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“You know you fractured two of my little cousin’s ribs? He played at Deming High School. I bet you’re used to being the big man.” The sergeant scrutinized him until a smothered chuckle sounded from down the line. The sergeant’s head whipped around. “Does someone think I’m being funny?” Kimble stalked past the teenagers, glowering at them one by one. “Holy crap, what happened to you, Brackin? You fall under a truck?”

“No, Sergeant.”

Great, Brackin was in the advanced MST class, along with several of his cronies. Bjorn hadn’t spotted anyone he met yesterday, so they were in the much larger intermediary class.

“All right, let’s see how fat and lazy you pukes got over the summer. Give me a two-mile run, forty push-ups, then five pull-ups. Once you finish all three, park your butt in the bleachers.” Training assistants moved to the area designated for push-ups and the pull-up bars. “If you toss your lunch or call it quits, go to the bench.”

Bjorn had rejected throttling back his work-out regimen after the training cadre ended. He still ran and exercised, but he didn’t push himself without Sergeant Orr’s scrutiny. The hand-to-hand training and workouts with Sergeant Silver helped but didn’t cover all of it. At the beginning of summer, the routine Kimble demanded would have been easy.

The two-mile run immediately showed who had sluffed off over the summer. Bjorn wasn’t at the lead of the pack, but he didn’t want to wind himself and rely on his cybernetic arm.

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