“No,” Bill said, a little amazed at his own firmness of mind. “I don’t really want to. Technical Fertilizer Operator …”
“And not only will you receive this lovely uniform, an enlistment bonus, and a free medical examination, but you will be awarded these handsome medals.” The sergeant took a flat box, offered to him on cue by a robot, and opened it to display a glittering array of ribbons and bangles. “This is the Honorable Enlistment Award,” he intoned gravely, pinning a jewel-encrusted nebula, pendant on chartreuse, to Bill’s wide chest. “And the Emperor’s Congratulatory Gilded Horn, the Forward to Victory Starburst, the Praise Be Given Salutation of the Mothers of the Victorious Fallen, and the Everflowing Cornucopia which does not mean anything but looks nice and can be used to carry contraceptives.” He stepped back and admired Bill’s chest; which was now adangle with ribbons, shining metal, and gleaming paste gems.
“I just couldn’t,” Bill said. “Thank you anyway for the offer, but … “
The sergeant smiled, prepared even for this eleventh-hour resistance, and pressed the button on his belt that actuated the programed hypno-coil in the heel of Bill’s new boot. The powerful neural current surged through the contacts and Bill’s hand twitched and jumped, and when the momentary fog had lifted from his eyes he saw that he had signed his name.
“But…’
“Welcome to the Space Troopers;” the sergeant boomed, smacking him on the back (trapezius like rock) and relieving him of the stylo. “FALL IN!” he called in a larger voice, and the recruits stumbled from the tavern.
“What have they done to my sonl” Bill’s mother screeched, coming into the market square, clutching at her bosom with one hand and towing his baby brother Charlie with the other. Charlie began to cry and wet his pants.
“Your son is now a trooper for the greater glory of the Emperor,” the sergeant said, pushing his slack-jawed and round-shouldered recruit squad into line.
“No! it can’t be …” Bill’s mother sobbed, tearing at her graying hair. “I’m a poor widow, he’s my sole support … you cannot … I”
“Mother…” Bill said, but the sergeant shoved him back into the ranks.’
“Be brave, madam,” he said. “There can be no greater glory for a mother.” He dropped a large and newly minted coin into her hand. “Here is the enlistment bonus, the Emperor’s shilling. I know he wants you to have it. ATTENTION!”
With a clash of heels the graceless recruits braced their shoulders and lifted their chins. Much to his surprise, so did Bill.
“RIGHT TURN!”
In a single, graceful motion they turned, as the command robot relayed the order to the hypno-coil in every boot. “FORWARD MARCH!” And they did, in perfect rhythm, so well under control that, try as hard as he could, Bill could neither turn his head nor wave a last good-by to his mother. She vanished behind him, and one last, anguished wail cut through the thud of marching feet.
“Step up the count to 130,” the sergeant ordered, glancing at the watch set under the nail of his little finger. “Just ten miles to the station, and we’ll be in camp tonight, my lads.”
The command robot moved its metronome up one notch and the tramping boots conformed to the smarter pace and the men.. began to sweat. By the time they had reached the copter station it was nearly dark, their red paper uniforms hung in shreds, the gilt had been rubbed from their pot-metal buttons, and the surface charge that repelled the dust from their thin plastic boots had leaked away. They looked as ragged, weary, dusty, and miserable as they felt.
II
It wasn’t the recorded bugle playing reveille that woke Bill but the supersonics that streamed through the metal frame of his bunk that shook him until the fillings vibrated from his teeth. He sprang to his feet and stood there shivering in the gray of dawn. Because it was summer the floor was refrigerated: no mollycoddling of the men in Camp Leon Trotsky. The pallid, chilled figures of the other recruits loomed up on every side, and when the soul-shaking vibrations had died away they dragged their thick sackcloth and sandpaper fatigue uniforms from their bunks, pulled them hastily on, jammed their feet into the great, purple recruit boots, and staggered out into the dawn.