NationStates Jolt Archive

This Story has been reviewed and reclassified as an MA-15+ story. It includes semi-graphic violence and sexual themes, and is recommended for mature audiences over the age of 15.


Martin Clausewitz sighed as he listened to the interminable graduation speech of the Headmaster. Around him, his friends had closed their eyes, as if they were about to fall asleep. The head had been talking for 15 minutes, and showed no sign of stopping any time soon. Martin daydreamed. In his dreams, his family could afford to send him to academy. He would become a lawyer, and then start a practice. He would become rich...he would...

Martin blinked. Someone was shaking his shoulder. With a sigh, the student looked around. Reindhart Kutuztov pointed to the stage, silently. Where the principal had stood was now a tall, dignified man in a grey uniform. "Students, I will not take much of your time. I am Field Marshal Tertsacten, and I have asked for a moment of your time in order to tell you about a few more options you have, besides going into manual labour or scraping together cash for the academy. I refer, of course, to joining the Imperial Legions and taking your 3 years service now, rather than later."

The crowd started to murmer. The Field Marshal slammed his hand down. "SILENCE!...thank you. Now, if you take your imperial service now, you will have a few more options than you would normally. Firstly, if you choose, you will have a job for life, with a pension and all benefits payable to you upon your retirement, or to your family should you fall in the course of duty. Should you not wish to become a career soldier, than you will have served the Imperium, and it will be our turn to serve you, by paying your way into any Imperial Academy. Should you have any questions, I will be in the foyer. Thank you for your time."

We don’t want to fight, but by jingo if we do
We’ve got the ships, we’ve got the men, and we’ve got the money too.
We’ve fought the Firebirds before,
And while Shieldians be true,
The Roanians shall not have San Dieganople!

(in other words, tag!)

OOC:
You dont plan on invading Klatch do you? Just letting you know, were keeping Leshp ;)

((You bet your capital I'll have San Diegonople, Ian. NONE WILL STAND BEFORE ME!...oh, is that a rabbit?))

Martin wasn't sure what he was doing in the foyer, but he knew he was doing something. He clutched his graduate certificate tightly in his hand when he saw the Field Marshal, who was talking to other students. Outside the front door, an APC was waiting. A few of the people that Tertsacten was talking to walked to it and boarded, the others shook their heads and left.

Martin gave a clumsy imperial salute when he saw the Field Marshal looking at him. Tertsacten chuckled drily. "At ease. How can I help you, young man?"

"Um...I was wondering about pay and so on? Benefits?"

Tertsacten nodded. "Of course...as I said, the military would pay your way into the academy, or give you a job for life...payment is, as a Legionnaire, 40 marks a week."

Martin stopped. "40 marks a week? That's more than I could get in industry!"

"Well...there are a couple of differences... in industry you rarely get shot at. But it's 40 marks, room and board, and a chance to see the world, meet interesting people."

"Sign me up, sir..." Martin said, without thinking. Tertsacten saluted.

"Welcome aboard, son. The recruiting officer is in the APC."

The inside of the APC was narrow and claustrophobic. Several people from the school were seated on the narrow benches stuck to the sides, none of them people he recognised. A short, wiry man in a Commissar's outfit looked up. "Name?"

Martin blinked. "Martin Clausewitz, sir."

"Citizenship number?"

"Um...45...8762."

"Right," the commissar grunted, writing them down in his notebook. "Welcome to Her Imperial Highness's Legions. Take a seat..."

Martin nodded, gave a clumsy salute, and turned to sit down, before tripping over a protruding cable and sprawling, flailing for something to hold on to.

His hand hit something soft, and he instinctively squeezed. There was a hiss of mingled shock and anger, and then he felt someone violently help him to his feet. He stared at the young, blonde, girl whose breast he had squeezed, and coughed, quickly letting go. "God, I'm sorry..." he said, blushing.

She opened her mouth, about to yell at him, when the Commissar broke in. "Don't be...you're not going to have any secrets from each other. The legions are entirely mixed. Helps you work better as a team, apparently..."

"Entirely?" The girl asked, turning violently.

"Showers...barracks...mixed. Not my decision, of course... still, want to file a complaint against this young man? We'd make sure he didn't do anything like that ever again..."

She shook her head. "No, no...I think that...I'll be..."

"You won't be. You signed up, Private. You're in the Legions now, and you will end every remark to me with 'sir'."

Silence echoed throughout the apc as the engines kicked in...

Martin sat down hurriedly across from the girl, and smiled wanly. "Sorry," he said, still bright red.

She shook her head. "Forget it...just surprised me, that's all..." she extended her hand. "My name is Laura. Yours?"

"Martin..." the young man said, his cheeks slowly paling once more. Everyone sat in silence until the APC slowed to a hault. The commissar leapt to his feet.

"Everyone out, carefully now." He clapped his hands together. "Move it maggots!" He roared, loudly.

The recruits moved quickly, and were soon arranged outside the APC. Around them was a sight none had ever seen before...tanks, jeeps, desert skimmers, lined up as far as the eye can see outside several low wooden houses. In the distance was a cast iron fence. The feel of the air told them that they were in the deep desert.

The Commissar spoke once more. "I am Commissar Ludwig Zhukov. You will address me as sir, or Commissar. For the next three weeks I will be your supreme lord and master. You talk when I say so. You eat when I say so. No one has more authority over you than me, not your parents, not your local squire, not your baron or count, not the dukes or princes...not even Her Imperial Highness. You are mine." He looked at the recruits. "Your first order is simple. Attention!"

Everyone snapped to a parody of standing at attention. Ludwig clucked. "Hrmm...it's a start. At ease, recruits. Now for your second order. Strip."

They stared in shock. Ludwig sighed. "Yes, yes...I know. But some idiot accidentally targeted the changing rooms with a missile, so we need you to strip out here. Once that is done, line up, and I'll have the medical and clothing orderlies look you over in the comfort of these sheds..." He turned to go. "Before you do, though, I should warn you against trying anything like the stunt I just told you of..." he pointed over to a recently made dirt mound. "That's the idiot." He marched off. "You have ten minutes."

A few minutes passed before one of the boys shook his head. "Well, people...we were given an order...let's carry it out!" He roared, loudly, trying to get the same tone of voice that the Commissar had used, while at the same time unbuttoning his shirt. After he had slid it off, revealing a well-defined and muscular chest and stomach, he spoke again. "Remember to be polite and supportive of each other, ladies and gentlemen...otherwise my fist will find your jaw. I have a suspicion we're all being judged together, and I'm not going to let my dream be ruined by you lot."

The other young men started to follow his example, some hurriedly, others embarassed. Martin was somewhere in the middle, still pondering if things would get any more different. He looked up from removing his shorts briefly, and he froze as he saw that the girls were also rapidly removing their clothing, his throat drying when he saw...what was her name...Laura, that's right, stretching her arms and twisting a bit. His eyes traced down every inch of her body, from her neck down to her narrow shoulders, noting the way her long hair framed her small breasts, her flat stomach and narrow waist, and... she was coming closer. Oh, shoot...

She stood in front of him, smiling a bit. "I hardly think that staring open-mouthed is 'polite'...even if it is supportive," she laughed, her lips turning upwards even more, her own eyes tracing his body in almost a parody of the way he had looked at hers, and her smiles widened when he also finally dropped his remaining clothes and stood up, trying to conceal the blush that was growing on his cheeks. "Hrmm...not too bad..."

The young man who had spoken earlier coughed. "Now, you don't have to listen to me, but I have just a few things to say..."

Everyone slowly spun around. The man nodded his thanks, as he stood there unconscious or uncaring of his nakedness. "Good...Blessings be upon you all. I am Reindhart Kessentop...I just think that before we actually move through this, we should sort things out. Firstly, we're all here for two reasons...either we want the money for the academy, or we aim to become career soldiers. I...I am proudly a member of the second group. It's my dream. Now...as I said before, we are all being judged as a team, not on our individual merits. Thus, it is in our best interests for us all to work together and make use of our own skills in a way that betters everyone here..." and now Reindhart's voice turned menacing. "And if I mess up because one of you people acted selfishly..." he left the rest of the sentence hanging.

There was a general murmer of agreement with his words. Reindhart waited, and spoke again. "I'd say that we should all introduce ourselves...but..."

The commissar's voice could be heard. "Very good speech, recruit...there will be time for you lot to engage in politicking and introductions later, though." Zhukov appeared from one of the sheds. "FORM UP! ATTEN-TION!"

The recruits formed up and snapped to attention. All thoughts of embarrasment left his mind as he did his level best to obey. Zhukov spoke again. "Girls, into the building on my left-hand side...boys, into the one I'm standing in front of."

Martin was marched in shortly after Reindhart was. The building contained a host of measuring devices and people with rulers and cloths. Some of the devices looked very uncomfortable...

=========

Ten minutes later, the recruit was ordered into a shower room, his head shaved bald. Warm water cascaded down, steaming the room up. Reindhart was sitting on one of the benches around the room. He looked up as Martin entered. "Ah, hello...you would be...um...Martin, yes?"

Martin nodded, cautiously. Reindhart chuckled. "Heard you talking to Laura on the bus..."

Martin was about to respond when he felt something soft pressing into his back. Turning around slightly, he found Laura embracing him, her breasts pushing into his side now. She laughed at his expression, delightedly, and released. "I would almost think you've never seen or touched a naked girl before, Martin..."

Martin turned even redder. She laughed even louder. "Well, now you have!"