Jim knew it was obvious that he was making a blatant attempt to change the subject, but felt relieved when his mother seemed pleased to end the discussion. She launched into what amounted to a local news report. Apparently, a new strain of drought-resistant triticale-wheat was about to become available, the Laughlins weren’t getting a divorce after all, and the sonic clothes cleaner was acting up again.
Eventually the conversation came around to the recruiter and his goliath. Jim and Trace split the story between them. Once it was over, Karol shook her head. “Gosh, they’re really getting aggressive, aren’t they? They’re saying everything’s going fine out there, and the minute Jim’s eligible to enlist they send a recruiter to our doorstep. What about your friends? Is anyone else getting targeted like that?”
“I don’t know,” Jim replied honestly. “But Tom Omer’s shipping out right after graduation.”
“I hope he knows what he’s getting himself into,” Trace said. “The military is not something to take lightly.”
“No, he’s really serious. And … I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about it lately, too, what it would be like to join up. I mean, I’ve never been off planet, and the signing bonus might be enough to pay our taxes down. Who knows? Maybe you could fix up the farm, sell out, and move to Smithson. Then, when I get out of the Marine Corps, I could go to that university on Korhal like Mom wants me to.”
His enthusiastic speech was greeted with utter silence. He didn’t know what to expect; he’d been rehearsing it in his head ever since Farley’s mention of the signing bonus, but that didn’t make the notion any less shocking to his parents.
“No way,” Trace finally put in. “The taxes are our problem, not yours… . Besides, the wars with the Kel-Morians is none of our business. Let the people who care about it fight it—”
“Trace, you know the wars are our business, whether you like it or not,” Karol interrupted. “But I agree with your father, Jim, there’s no reason you should be saddled with our debts. Plus, I don’t recall you mentioning the military before. That corporal must have left quite an impression.”
“He’s a gunnery sergeant, Mom,” Jim said patiently, as he finished his stew. “And I have been thinking about it,” he said. “Tom got me interested in the marines a long time ago, but …” Jim looked at his worried parents and felt a little guilty. Truth was, his mom was right: He had never actually entertained the thought of enlisting until that afternoon. When the recruiter said it could help his family, it was all he needed to hear; if he didn’t help them, who would?
“Listen, I want to fight those scumbags, okay, because things are going to get worse before they get better, right, Dad? I mean, what if the Kel-Morians win? Then everybody would have to join an occupational guild … and do whatever the people in charge of the guilds say.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Karol said. “The people who lead the guilds are elected—but once in office they’re just about impossible to get out. And the guilds want war, because if they can control all of the scarce resources they can control everything.”
“That’s one of the reasons we’re paying higher taxes and dealing with shortages,” Trace added. “They’re hoarding strategic materials and trying to force us to accept their corrupt political system.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m talking about,” Jim replied earnestly. “If I were to join up, I could do something about the long fuel lines and food shortages. I could help a lot of people, including you guys.”
Karol frowned. “This is kind of sudden, isn’t it? I don’t understand where all of this is coming from. You’ve never mentioned any of these feelings before.”
“Your mother’s right, Jim,” Trace echoed. “I don’t think you realize what you’re up against here. That guy today, he’s a recruiter! It’s his job to make it seem adventurous and exciting, but war is war, no matter how you spin it. You have a fifteen-minute conversation with some propaganda spouter and suddenly you’re ready to sign your life away.”
“It’s just not like you, Jim—to jump into something without thinking it through,” Karol continued. “You can’t blame us for being shocked—”
“I knew I couldn’t leave before, that’s why,” Jim blurted, “not the way things are, so I never said anything! But now, with the bonus and all, there’s a way to make things work!” He realized he was yelling, so he took a deep breath and continued calmly. “Plus, as much as I love the farm, it would be great to visit some other planets. Then, after a tour, I could come back and settle down.”
As Jim said everything out loud for the first time, he started to feel truly excited at the prospect of joining the Marine Corps, and at the same time, frustrated by his parents’ lack of support. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen it coming. He was their only child, after all, their little boy, and he’d never spent more than a weekend out of their sight.
An ominous silence once again filled the room. Jim looked back and forth at his parents. Karol was looking at her plate and shaking her head, turning the remnants of her stew over with her spoon. Trace was staring down at his folded hands, seemingly deep in thought. Not sure whether to excuse himself or wait for someone to speak, Jim passed the next few minutes by gingerly patting his swollen eye with a freeze-pak.
Eventually, Trace cleared his throat. “I’ll say this. If Jim wants to get off planet and take a look around, this would be a good opportunity to do it.” He exchanged glances with Karol before leaning back in his chair.
She doesn’t look happy, Jim thought.
“You’re going to have to give your mother and me some time to think about this, okay, Jim?”
“Yeah, Dad,” Jim replied, wondering whether he was doing the right thing, or if this was all a big mistake. He got up and cleared the table, then quietly left the room. His father, for the first time in Jim’s memory, offered no words of guidance and Jim felt utterly alone.
The better part of three days passed with arguments back and forth, but on the third night there was a knock on Jim’s bedroom door. He turned away from his computer. “Yeah?”
“Come on, your mom and I want to talk to you,” Trace called out. He smiled warmly as Jim opened the door, and the two made their way down the hall.
As he sat back down at the table, Jim could sense that his mother had been crying. It was the worst feeling in the universe, and he suddenly wanted to take it all back. Every last bit of it. But then his father began to speak.
“Jim, your mother and I have never put pressure on you to follow in our footsteps, but up until now, you’ve had no say in the matter. We needed you here, so we just figured you’d stay, and that’s unfair to you.”
Karol, a sad smile on her face, reached over and clutched her son’s hand in both of hers. Jim’s heart was racing. Were they actually going to let him go? He looked back at his dad, whose expression had softened.
“If you want to enlist, Son,” Trace continued, “that’s your choice. Because in this life, you are who you choose to be. And it doesn’t surprise us one bit that our son wants to be a hero.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Recent changes in the Confederate military hierarchy’s structure have left several wings of the armed forces struggling to adapt. Charged with keeping lawlessness in check among the troops, the Internal Security Division has reported a lack of military police to deal with the growing recruit population. Analysts worry that these gaps in security may open vulnerable sections of the military to criminal abuse.”