"Great," said Feld. "Another problem I could do without. As if you weren't making things difficult enough."
"I know what you're going to say, Achton, and the answer's still no."
Feld knew he was fighting a losing battle with Angus, but that didn't stop him from trying.
"Look," said Feld. "You need more guards when you make your walk to the Forum. You're too exposed, and if you don't let me put more men on the ground beside you, I can't guarantee your safely."
"I told you," said Angus, his tone suggesting he was growing weary of having this argument. "I won't walk to the Senate surrounded by armed soldiers. I can't look as though I'm traveling as a war leader. For now I need to be seen as the voice of peace."
"But—"
"But nothing," said Angus. "That's the end of it. I've already consented to the ruinous cost of a personal force field, which I'm not happy about, but I will not be surrounded by soldiers. The Forum is a place of democracy and debate, and Lennox Craven will call me a tyrant or a usurper if I walk in with armed men at my back."
"It's your funeral," said Feld. "I'm just telling you what I think. Hey, I could have taken a cushy job on Brontes getting paid a fortune to babysit rich kids, you know."
"So why didn't you?"
Feld sighed. "Hell, I'd have died of boredom, you know that."
"You're a man of action," agreed Angus. "And you are my friend, so it means a lot to me to know how worked up you're getting over my safety."
"Just remember, that force field's going to give you only a few minutes' protection, just enough to get you to the Forum."
"Yes, so you've told me a dozen times already."
Feld shook his head with a rueful smile. "I still get paid if you die, right?"
"Honestly, Feld, I swear you're worse than my mother ever was."
"She was a sensible woman, your mother," said Feld.
"Pah, there's nothing to worry about, Feld," said Angus. "You're jumping at ghosts, nothing more."
The press of bodies around the tables had eased now and Arcturus lifted one of the pamphlets. An animated graphic of the Confederate flag billowed beneath the words. "The Confederate Marine Corps—A Place for Heroes."
The two marines who had stood immobile behind Captain Emillian circulated throughout the assembly hall, demonstrating aspects of their armor and allowing students to handle their AGR-14 gauss rifles.
Arcturus replaced the pamphlet as the marine recruiting sergeant loomed over the table. He could smell the polish of the brass on the man's uniform and the sweet, slightly sickly aroma of gun oil. The marine's face was open and earnest, but devoid of any real personality.
"Thinking of joining up, son?" asked the man.
"Maybe," said Arcturus. "I haven't decided."
"It's an honorable profession, son," said the marine, and Arcturus noticed the telltale bump of resocialization scars just above the neckline of his uniform's collar as he bent down.
"When did you enlist?" asked Arcturus.
"Six years ago, and never looked back," said the marine automatically, and Arcturus caught the whiff of words said by rote. "Best decision I ever made, son, let me tell you. I've traveled all over the Koprulu sector, seen all kinds of worlds, and met me plenty of interesting folks."
"And killed them?" finished Arcturus mischievously.
"Well, let's put that to one side just now," suggested the marine. "What's your name, son?"
"Arcturus Mengsk."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Arcturus. Now, what you need to think of are all the opportunities the Corps can offer you. Travel, self-respect, honor, discipline—"
"Well, have you?" interrupted Arcturus. "Killed anyone, I mean?"
"See here, Arcturus," said the marine sergeant. "Being a marine means you got to kill people sometimes, but only those as deserve it. When bad folks are trying to kill me or my buddies, it ain't no choice. When someone's got a gun pointed at you, well, there's only thing you can do, right?"
"I suppose it depends on why they're pointing the gun al you,” said Arcturus.
"Making trouble, are you, Mengsk?" said a voice behind him, and Arcturus recognized the supercilious tones of Principal Steegman.
"Not at all, sir," said Arcturus, turning on his heel. "Just finding out what I'd be getting into."
"A stint in the military would do you a power of good, Mengsk, said Steegman. "Knock some of the smart-ass out of you. Bit of military discipline would soon sort you out."
"I wasn't aware I needed sorting out, sir."
Steegman leaned in close, and Arcturus had to resist the urge to cough at the overpowering reek of the man's aftershave.
"I know your type, Mengsk," hissed Steegman. "If I had my way, I'd have you all drafted. A dose of military training is just what a boy needs to turn him into a man."
Before Steegman could press his point, a shadow fell over him and Arcturus looked up into the face of Angelina Emillian. Up close, she was even more impressive, the bulk of her combat armor giving her an extra foot of height over Arcturus, who wasn't exactly small.
She absolutely towered over Principal Steegman.
"And what unit did you serve with, Principal Steegman?"
"Excuse me?"
Captain Emillian smiled sweetly, displaying perfect teeth in a perfect smile. "I merely asked what unit you served with. In your time with the military."
"I, uh...haven't," said Steegman. "I mean, that is to say, I couldn't."
Arcturus bit his lip to hide his amusement at Steegman's discomfort and kept his eyes downcast. When he looked up, he saw Steegman staring at him, his face florid with embarrassment.
"I wonder if I might have a word with Mr. Mengsk," asked Emillian. Steegman nodded curtly and all but fled from the marine captain.
"I think I love you," said Arcturus with a broad grin.
"You wouldn't be the first," returned Captain Emillian.
Arcturus watched Principal Sleegman's departing back and said. "He's always made out he served in the military, but I'd always suspected he was lying."
"To be fair, he did apply to join the Colonial Fleet, but he failed the entrance exams and couldn't pass the physical. And between you and me, the physicals for the fleet are a cakewalk."
"Well, thank you for sparing me from him, Captain," said Arcturus.
"Mr. Mengsk?" said Emillian as he turned away.
"Yes?"
"I didn't save you from your principal's attentions out of the goodness of my heart. I do actually want to speak with you."
"Oh? Well, of course," said Arcturus, pleased the captain had singled him out. He could see his fellow students looking over with envious eyes and relished the attention being lavished upon him.
"Thank you, Sergeant Devlin," said Emillian, addressing yhe marine still standing to attention behind Arcturus. "That will be all."
The marine sergeant snapped a smart salute. "Yes, ma'am."
With that, Captain Emillian strode off, her hands clasped behind her back, and Arcturus was forced to step lively to catch up with her.
"Do you always bring resocialized marines to recruitment drives?" asked Arcturus.
"Most of the time," said Emillian. "They don't make great speakers, but they do a good job in giving the right answers to students’ questions."
"So what did he do?" asked Arcturus. "Sergeanl Devlin, what did he do?"
"I don't know," replied Emillian. "Those files are sealed. Once you're a marine, resoclalized or otherwise, your past life is irrelevant. You're a marine, plain and simple."