This last comment was clearly an order, and the assembled boys gave an enthusiastic round of applause as Steegman retreated from the lectern and one of the marines stepped forward, his heavy steps booming on the wooden floor of the stage.
He reached the lectern and removed his helmet, revealing that he was, in fact, a she.
And a strikingly pretty she.
The marine placed her helmet on the lectern and smiled at the assembled boys, who now appeared even more interested in this morning's talk. Behind her, the curtain parted to reveal a large projection screen, upon which the red and blue Confederate flag was displayed, billowing dramatically in the wind against a golden sunset. Stirring music played in the background, piped over the assembly room's PA system.
"Good morning, my name is Angelina Emillian," began the marine. "I'm a captain with the 33rd Ground Assault Division of the Confederate Marine Corps, and I'm here today at your principal's request to talk to you about a career in the Marine Corps."
Captain Emillian marched to the front of the stage and planted her hands on her hips. "I know what you're thinking."
A nervous titter ghosted around the assembly hall, suggesting that Emillian might not want to know what many of the boys were thinking right at that moment. "And it's 'Why in the name of all holy hell would I want to join the Marine Corps?' Right? After all, as graduates of this school, you'll no doubt be expecting to go into some cushy, well-paid job. And it's dangerous, isn't it? You might get killed. The Corps is for losers who don't have any other options open to them, isn't it?"
Arcturus saw Principal Steegman's eyes widen in surprise. Captain Emillian's presentation obviously wasn't starting in the way he had imagined and for that reason alone, Arcturus found himself warming to this pretty marine captain.
"Well, if you're thinking that, I've got some news for you, boys. You're dead wrong."
Captain Emillian swept her gaze around the room, her confidence and steely demeanor capturing everyone's attention.
"The Confederate Marine Corps embodies three principals," said Emillian, slapping her fist into her palm to emphasize each one. "Strength. Pride. Discipline. Those ideals have enabled the Confederate Marine Corps and the Colonial Fleet to defend Confederate interests along the galactic rim for more than a century and a half. And right now, you're thinking that marines are just resocialized panbrains, but I'm here to tell you that's just not true. Marines come from all walks of life, from every level of society, but they are united by one thing—their devotion to the preservation of the Confederate way of life."
As Emillian spoke, the projection screen behind her displayed images of laughing marines as they abseiled down cliffs, played padball, or skied down snowy mountainsides. To Arcturus's eye, they appeared to be having so fantastic a time it was a wonder they managed to do any soldiering at all.
"The Corps offers countless opportunities for young men and women to see the sector and gain valuable real-world experience. We will train you. We will teach you. We will shape you into an efficient warrior, garnering respect and admiration from your peers. During your service, you can choose where and what you learn. And when you come out after your short service period, you'll have a strength of character that you'll find nowhere else."
The projection screen now showed marines working through an assault course, men and women with rippling muscles and movie-star good looks. Once again, they appeared to be having the time of their lives, despite the rigors of the physical exertion, and Arcturus wandered who had shot this promotional film—clearly someone not averse to incredible visual hyperbole.
"The Corps has an honorable tradition of service and there are a great many benefits to joining up. Pay and conditions in the Marine Corps have steadily improved over the years and barely fifty percent of recruits ever see active combat. But armed with the latest weaponry and armor technology, a marine has little to fear from the kinds of folk that need fighting. And don't forget that your service becomes pan of your permanent record. Combine that with the reputation of this fine institution and you have the key to open any door you want once you muster out. A life in the Marine Corps is one lived without limits, a life lived for the greater good of the Confederacy and everyone in it. You can be part of that, boys. You can make a difference. You can be all you can be."
Despite himself, Arcturus found himself swept up in the general enthusiasm that filled the assembly hall. The endlessly repeating images of handsome, fulfilled soldiers and Emillian's charismatic delivery combined to make him feel that a life in the military might not be such a bad option.
Captain Emillian stood back and saluted the assembled boys, and the two marines standing behind her repeated the gesture. Thunderous applause erupted and Arcturus found himself standing with the other boys as they rose to their feet to give Captain Emillian a standing ovation.
She smiled and gave a shod bow, turning to shake Principal Steegman's hand. Arcturus wanted to laugh at how ridiculously insignificant the man looked next to the armored marine.
Steegman returned to his lectern and raised his hands for silence, which was forthcoming only after a few minutes of clapping and wolf whistles. When the boys sat down, Steegman said. "Thank you, Captain Emillian, for those stirring words. I'm sure you have given our senior year a lot to think about."
Again, scattered sniggers broke out amongst the assembled boys.
"And now," continued Steegman, oblivious to the effect his ill-chosen words were having, "I want you to take some time to collect some of the literature kindly provided by the Confederate Marine Corps. Classes will resume in one hour, so you'll have plenty of time to gather anything you wish and talk with the marine recruiting sergeants."
Arcturus followed Steegman's gaze and saw a number of tables stacked high with pamphlets and books set out along the side of the assembly hall. He'd not noticed them before, his attention captured by Captain Emillian and her dog-and-pony show. Tall, attractive marines of both sexes in immaculately pressed dress uniforms of navy blue and gleaming brass stood behind each table, hands clasped tightly behind their backs.
"Dismissed," said Principal Steegman, and there was a rush of bodies as the boys of the academy stood and made their way eagerly over to the tables.
Arcturus followed the herd, curious to see what might be on offer.
"Hold still, will you," said Katherine Mengsk, fastening the red toga around her husband's shoulder with a bronze clasp. "This is hard enough as it is without you fidgeting all the time."
"Pain in the damn neck is what it is," said Angus. "Remind me why I need to wear this?"
"Tradition," replied his wife.
"Tradition," spat Angus, as though it were the filthiest swear word he knew.
"You can't very well give the Close of Session speech to the Senate in that old suit of yours, now can you, dear?"
"Fine," said Angus. "But why are you making me wear it now? The speech isn't for another two months."
Achton Feld concealed a smile at Angus's pouting and complaining as his wife turned him this way and that to alter the cut and hang of the ceremonial robes of a senator of Korhal. The robes were heavy and uncomfortable-looking, but the governmental apparatus of Korhal had a long tradition of pomp and ceremony where its procedures were concerned.
"Because, dear," said Katherine patiently, "it needs a few adjustments. It's been a few years since you wore it and you are not as sylphlike as once you were."
"So you're saying I'm fat," said Angus.
"Not at all," replied Katherine lightly. "Merely more statesmanlike."