Rhidi woke up with a slow blink; The usual shouting was there, but there were no trash cans being whacked with sticks.

  A marked improvement.

  Her Human Drill Sergeants were as punctual as ever, and Rhidi glanced over at the data-slate on her locker: 0600 hours. Right on time.

  Unlike Humans, both the Kafya and other members of the Inner Dolcir Coalition required very strict sleeping regimens. Humans could sleep anywhere and at any time they wanted, but the same could not be said for their allies. Kafya alone required at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep in order to be considered rested, with the Pwah and Lilgara able to get away with a scant five. Once they were up, they were up, and moved like zombies until they could get another block of sleep.

  In all honesty, no one had seen a planet like Earth; Everything just slept whenever the hell it wanted. One of the crippling attributes of the war had been the Ur pumping themselves full of narcotics and stimulants, allowing them to slowly grind their enemies to paste since they didn’t require as much time to rest.

  Humans were the weaponized answer to this.

  They had napped their way to victory by slamming an hour or two of sleep, crushing several cans of commercial stimulants, and then lurching back into action like some kind of war-addicted monster.

  Strict regulations were in place to make sure non-Humans got their sleep, agreed upon by the accord put into place before alien troops ever landed on Earth. To be kind, Humans gave the “fragile” children of the stars an extra hour, and Drill Sergeants were extremely punctual. Red Phase had been a chaotic hellworld when the Drill Sergeants received their calculations, and when 2200 hours struck the clock, Drill Sergeants actually threw Kafya, Pwah, and Lilgara into their racks.

  “Bed time!” The Drill Sergeants would bellow, going as far as to hunt down missing troopers while the Human recruits rolled their eyes and climbed into their racks. “Sleepy aliens need to go to bed!”

  One night, Rhidi had been trying to stay up late to make some logs in her data-slate, and she had been too slow to return to her rack during the fifth day. This resulted in her skittering down the barracks hallway, screaming in horror as three Drill Sergeants pounded after her, sniffing her out of the broom closet she had been hiding in.

  She had been catapulted into her rack, then tied into place with her own sheets and blankets.

  Thankfully, the Human recruits popped out of their beds when the lights were turned out, untying her since the other recruits were too terrified to get out of their racks.

  The Human recruits would usually wake up around 0200 hours, puttering about and making sure all their gear was ready for the coming morning. They sometimes woke up Rhidi on accident, causing her to groan and bundle up in her blankets; While they were, technically, getting plenty of sleep, Rhidi had no idea where the hell the Humans got their energy from. Between all the drills, drag training, marches, rucks, and entry level battle drills, Rhidi felt as if she could sleep for twelve hours a day and still be tired the next morning.

  She felt no different this first day of White Phase, and had been bumped awake several times during the early morning by Human recruits double-checking their lockers.

  “You have thirty minutes!” Drill Sergeant Curahee called out as male and female recruits dragged themselves from their racks. “Standard morning PT, shorts and shirts, with training to follow! It is a glorious day in the UAA Army, hooah!”

  Rhidi’s “hooah” was a little lackluster, but she fwipped her blanket away and stepped down onto the cool tile floor.

  “Make my bed.” Rhidi mumbled, turning and flicking the blanket back into place while pulling her sleeping pants from the crack of her ass.

  She hated this part the most, of all things; Kafya beds, even in the military, self cleaned. Here, on this damned planet, she had to make her own bed… like some kind of backwater peasant. Rhidi couldn’t think of a single yellow Kafya that would make their own bed, even her kind hearted father would balk at such a task. She ran the palm of her hand along the bottom of the mattress, tucking in the blanket and sheet, straightened them so they looked okay, then managed a passable hospital corner.

  “First task compleeete… woo.” Rhidi grumbled, then started changing into her PT uniform.

  The first couple of days she had been bashful, trying to hide within her locker to change. Now, she was so tired she didn’t even care that her tail brushed the naked legs of the male Human beside her.

  “Morning Rhidi.” He said, pulling on his socks as he sat on his still messy bed in his underwear.

  Rhidi held up a hand, fishing out her shorts as she kicked off her sleeping pants. “Morning, Jackson.”

  Recruit Jackson was from some Human hellhole known as “Kansas”, but was a kind enough man. He had brown hair and brown eyes, but she figured he must have been a farmer, judging by his rough hands, scars, and well built body.

  “Ppt! Rhidi!” A female Human spat from the other side of the locker aisle, and Rhidi turned, looking at her sleepily.

  “Oh, sorry Shorsey.” Rhidi said, having bent over to grab her shoes and accidently whacking the woman in the face with her tail.

  Recruit Shorsey was from “Ontario”, and was a mean little shit that could give as good as the males in training. Rhidi quite liked her freckles, and orange-ish hair.

  Elbow room was tight while getting ready, and getting whacked by a tail or arm was common. The Pwah learned quite quickly to avoid and dodge elbows from all kinds, while Humans coined “The IDC Hop” as having to step and hop around the many tails from the Kafya and Lilgara.

  Eventually they all made it outside, getting into formation, but Rhidi narrowed her eyes; There were Drill Sergeants missing, enough to make her quite nervous.

  Drill Sergeant Mavericko, a black-skinned male Human that seemed to have not been born with hair atop his head, fell them out to the training field. The field was a large, grassy area in the middle of the barracks that was shared by the other training Companies. Charlie Company was on the far end, giving them a good area of grass to toil and suffer in. To her own annoyance, as they extended out to get their spacing, she found herself behind a bottom heavy blue Kafya with a larger, fluffier tail than the norm. This was common amongst the blues, and she found them insufferable; They were normally ditsy, airheaded, stupid Kafya whether male or female, and never failed to piss her off in some way.

  Recruit Inthur was no exception, and half of their warm up exercises resulted in Rhidi getting whacked with Inthur’s damn tail. After the third whack, Rhidi could have been used to boil water

  “Pasha’ta holum.” Rhidi swore under her breath, baring her teeth and having a mind to latch onto Inthur’s tail should it come close again.

  Having to stare at her large, stupid, wobbling butt while doing push ups nearly made Rhidi’s blood boil; The stupid blue could barely manage the bare minimum of push ups required just for morning PT, and was a huffing, whining shit when they went out on their runs. Worse still, she was a massive flirt, as blues were, and was already trying to get friendly with the male Humans.

  Rhidi hated leadership positions, but the thought of being able to cuff the blue Kafya was nearly enough to make her take the position of Kholihl. Each gender for the Kafya race always had a leading male or female Kafya if there were more than ten of the same gender in one place. For the males, they had their Hohrlihl, and the females, their Kholihl. No one had made moves yet within their training Company, but that was more for the fact the Drill Sergeants did the job good enough on their own.

  In time, though, a pair of Kafya would have to rise to wrangle the others; If not, things could get… chaotic.

  For PT, though, all there was left to do was sit ups before the two mile run, and Rhidi ended up paired with Inthur. It took every inch of Rhidi’s willpower to not glower down at Inthur as she struggled to complete her sit ups; How she got into the Kafya military was a mystery to Rhidi, but her blue-furred daddy likely had something to do with it. Rhidi was still surprised this blue-furred idiot was still here; The more rugged greens, reds, and oranges had lost some of their own, but here were the blues, holding out until the bitter end for some reason.

  After their two mile run, Drill Sergeant Mavericko threw in a wild card with a new exercise: The buddy drag.

  After seeing it done, Rhidi latched onto Inthur with a snap of her hand.

  “Ow! Rhidi, what are you doing?!” Inthur wailed with a whimper as Rhidi dragged her over to the starting point.

  Rhidi turned her bright yellow head towards Inthur, just enough so she could see the blue’s eyes. “Training, my little battle buddy.”

  “T-Training?” Inthur whimpered, letting out a quiet squeal as Rhidi whipped her around, holding her by the wrists as the blue Kafya stumbled to the ground.

  Drill Sergeant Mavericko raised an eyebrow as Rhidi took to the line with the other recruits; While everyone else had their fellow recruits in the normal drag hold of their arms around the chest, Rhidi had the other Kafya by the wrists.

  “... Exercise!” Drill Sergeant Mavericko called out, and couldn’t help but grin as Rhidi took off, knees pumping as she dragged a shrieking female Kafya behind her.

  “My taaaiiilll!” Inthur wailed as Rhidi dragged her along the ground, the yellow Kafya growling as she put every inch of strength into her legs.

  Rhidi was annoyed at how much drag weight the blue Kafya’s giant ass produced, but by the time she reached the opposite line for the end of the exercise, she felt better as she tossed Inthur’s limp arms to the ground; She may have been blue before, but her tail and legs were now green with dirt and grass stains.

  “Good time, Private.” Drill Sergeant Mavericko chuckled out, tapping at his data-slate. “Your form is sloppy, though.”

  “I’ll work on that, Drill Sergeant.” Rhidi said with a panting, but satisfied, smile as she jogged off towards the starting line for Inthur to drag her as well.

  She ended up being dragged by a female Human, as Inthur was too busy sniffing and sobbing while pulling grass from her ruined tail fur.

  Drill Sergeant Mavericko knew he should have yelled at her to get up, but he couldn’t even manage a straight face when he glanced over at the furry alien. Something was clearly going on between her and the yellow one, and he would have to keep an eye on that.

  —

  Rhidi’s high was short lived as they all went back to their barracks to change, and a sudden outcry of “Oh come on!” from a male Human made them all stop short, peering in through the double bay doors.

  The barracks was a mess: Uniforms, underwear, socks, and personal items hung from the rafters, corners of the barracks, pipes, racks, and as one Pwah wordlessly found, stuffed into the toilets.

  Rhidi had thought it was rather funny… until she saw her own locker door was open.

  “Oh fuck me.” Rhidi groaned, as Alias chuckled from his still tidy bed and locked, locker.

  “Now who’s dipping into the slang...” Alias said smugly, opening his locker to change.

  Rhidi walked towards her rack and locker, and saw with a frustrated stare that her bed was made perfectly, as if someone had redone it for her. She leaned hard to the right, looking at her locker, and inhaled sharply through her teeth.

  It was an absolute ruin.

  Someone had combined all of her paw-boots together, tying multiple knots in all the laces and making a monster of the task. Her socks were full of shaving cream from someone else's locker, all but a single pair she could use for the day. Her underwear was wrapped tightly around strips of beef jerky and laundry pods, then tied into place with dental floss. She opened her data-slate, which she had left attached to the locker, and her search history was nothing but dog collars from some place called “Pet Smart”. There were also data searches for “Am I a good girl?” and “Is Drill Sergeant mad at me?”.

  Rhidi sighed and hung her head backwards, taking in the sounds of distress, chaos, rage, and depression that were circulating around the barracks in waves. She decided to just toss a lot of her stuff into the washing unit, the laundry room sitting across from the latrine and showers, and she was joined by the quicker moving of the others. Thankfully her uniforms were left mostly unscathed, but she had to gather her personal effects from some of the other recruits. One Human male had her mesh support-bras shoved into his locker, which was an awkward transaction with fist coughing and plenty of eye aversion; Her language books had been used in the creation of a book fort, which was quickly being torn down; All of her grooming combs and brushes were tossed into a grand pile at the far end of the barracks, and it took her quite a bit of time to snuff them out from all the others.

  A female Lilgara was staring down at the floor, eyes narrowed, and as Rhidi walked past with her brushes, she saw that a Drill Sergeant had written out the Lilgara’s name in blue detergent upon the ground.

  As well as the message “Ha ha, scale brain”.

  “That’s rough.” Rhidi murmured, patting the Lilgara on the shoulders. “Come on, I’ll help you wipe this up.”

  The Lilgara nodded, her hood flared out in anger, but it slowly fell back down to her shoulders as she turned to Rhidi. “Thanksss… Humansss are mean.”

  “Yeah, they are.” Rhidi said with a snort, then set down her brushes and grabbed a few towels nearby.

  Despite their best efforts, the detergent had deeply cleaned the tile, and no amount of brushing or wiping could remove the name from the ground, left there in clean, white lines. Rhidi, literally, threw in the towel when she knew time was running low and she needed to change.

  The Lilgara, Recruit Bisshi, thanked her with a wave as she too needed to change, and Rhidi opened her locker back up to grab a uniform.

  Her final discovery came when she pulled it out, and a litany of Earthen canine biscuits poured out of the pockets of her trousers and uniform blouse.

  Rhidi drew in a long, tortured breath as a few of the Human recruits let out quiet snickers, though Recruit Shorsey clicked her tongue.

  “Honestly, is nothing beyond them?” Shorsey growled, kneeling down and picking up the dog biscuits along with Rhidi. “You would think they would at least keep things non-rac-”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Alias barked out, and both Rhidi and Shorsey raised their heads.

  Alias was holding his pillow case up, and dozens of fake pointy ears were pouring out of it, along with a single pair of fake, pull on Halfling costume feet.

  Shorsey narrowed her eyes, but as Rhidi had been lucky enough to watch the first movie on her flight down to Earth, she let out a light, trilling laugh. She laughed a little harder as Shorsey slapped her on the chest with the back of her hand, but even Shorsey had to smile and shake her head.

  With the crop of doggy biscuits thrown away, uniform fluffed out, and the barracks bay cleaned up from the chaos, a call came from over the intercoms.

  “Prepare your fast-packs and limber up recruits, we’re going to the range. Trucks will be here in twenty minutes, and you’ll be downstairs in ten!” Drill Sergeant Almoore bellowed, and they all began preparing their fast-packs.

  Fast-packs were lighter, smaller than the larger rucksacks, carrying water, a spare uniform, cleaning kit, and anything else they may need during training for the day. They hadn’t gotten to use them yet, and there were plenty of pleased looks around the barracks; Always using the massive rucksacks had sucked, to say the least.

  They all ran downstairs in a wave, eager for both their first bit of weapons training and for the fact they wouldn’t be walking there this time. Red Phase had been rather devoid of any actual range time, and this was quite exciting for a bunch of off-world military volunteers. Human rifles and pistols were akin to curiosities, and were never allowed to be in the hands of non-Humans due to the ritual-like nature of Humanity and their weaponry. Their crew serves were, however, used extensively, and many an M2 Browning had the names of planets etched into them by thankful members of the IDC.

  All of their weapons were staged downstairs in their Company armory, ran by a perpetually tired looking E4, and he opened the doors for them all to run inside and grab their weapons. They got to grab them on days when they were doing training at the Company itself, lugging around the rifles like some kind of steel teddy bear.

  Rhidi thought that, at least by now, they would have done a few dry runs of how to aim the weapons at targets, but it seemed she and her fellow children of the stars were going to learn on the job. They had learned the basics, pointing the weapons at little circles of paper on the wall while balancing metal coins on the receivers, but that was different than using them outside.

  She turned to Alias, the Pwah blinking blearily despite his long night of sleep. “Don’t you think it’s odd that we aren’t… you know, in a classroom learning how to use these? At least in dry runs on a simulator.”

  “We’re the odd ones out.” Alias muttered, gesturing to the Humans around them with a wafting hand. “All of these iron blooded lead slingers have been shooting rifles since the age of ten.”

  “Ten?!” Rhidi stammered out. “Why?! Shouldn’t they be learning in school, or playing in the forests?”

  Alias chuckled darkly. “Oh, my little Kafya, they learn how to use them in their schools. Riflery is a non-elective course they have to pass in order to graduate. At least it is in the UAA, I don’t think the EUC does that.”

  “All students in the Unified American Authority leave high school as marksmen.” A nearby male Human said with a nod, patting his rifle. “We learn on older weapons, usually beat to hell M4s with the giggle switch removed.”

  Rhidi stared at the man in horror, then looked around at all the Human recruits around her. “All of you… all of you leave your entry level schooling knowing how to wield a weapon?”

  “Long ranged, single fire weapons, yes.” He said with a smile. “The ranges are used to grow hay in between the school year, helps feed the animals over in the 4-H barns.”

  Alias slowly shook his head from side to side with a smile, all while Rhidi looked at the male Human as if he had grown two heads.

  “Drill Sergeantsss coming.” Shasta hissed out, and Rhidi noticed that his long loop of soda-can tabs had grown by nearly double. At this point if he were to walk, it would make an audible clink…

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The Drill Sergeants wasted no time in calling them to attention, issuing an about-face order to walk towards their awaiting transports. The guidon bearers always hated this, as they had to run around their Platoon and come to the new front facing of the formation. As they marched out towards the parking lot, Rhidi got her first sight of their Human transportation.

  She had a sudden thought that she may actually prefer walking.

  Three “cattle cars” were sitting and waiting, basking in the warm morning sun like giant steel whales. These were the full size of a semi-truck trailer, and hauled by the same vehicle. Made of steel, iron, rubber, and powered by sour-diesel, Rhidi remembered seeing something similar in their museums back home. Both the cab and the trailer of the cattle car were painted in the colors of black and blue for the drop-pod infantry, with the middle of the trailer bearing a strip of olive drab green.

  There were windows… kind of. They were maybe a foot wide and eight feet long, but at least natural light could get in. Along the side of the trailer were two double-folding doors, with an emergency hatch at the rear.

  “Let’s go! Onto the cattle cars!” Drill Sergeant McPhiston called out, shoving a recruit forward by their pack. “Take too long and we’re not turning on the air conditioning!”

  Rhidi would have thrown people on the bus herself if she could have, but instead opted for leaping on and getting the process started. To her confusion there were no seats in this trailer, just places to stand and bars hanging from the sealing.

  “Nut to butt, now! Cram it in there!” Drill Sergeant McPhiston bellowed again, and Rhidi found herself quickly shunted forward towards the rear of the trailer.

  Recruits piled into the trailer until the Drill Sergeants were satisfied, taking their positions at the bottom of the stairs that held the doors. The other Platoons were shoved into the other trailers, with the remnants of the latter Platoons getting a roomier ride in the less-filled trailer.

  They were also riding with the rest of the Drill Sergeants, and Rhidi wasn’t sure if the extra room was worth it.

  Due to the cramped nature of this ride, Rhidi found her fast-pack crammed into the corner of the trailer with her tail, and she was face to face with a male Human recruit who was one of the few to receive a promotion.

  Rhidi cleared her throat and tried to look around, but it was hard to look at anything but the six foot tall man in front of her. It didn’t help that their knees were touching, or that the lurching of the truck moving caused her to squeeze against him.

  “Sorry.” Rhidi said lowly, sniffing as she kept her vision locked to the bottom left.

  He just shrugged, head slightly tilted due to the Lilgara beside him failing to manage her reptilian head hood. “So’kay.”

  Kafya noses were good, real good, and she could smell the ancient motor oil in his hair, along with the warm scent of something else. He had rough and cracked hands, as if he was a miner, and had eyes like forest moss. It looked odd against his brown hair, cut short in the recruit-cut that all the Humans had. Rhidi and the other races had been spared this ritual, being allowed to keep their hair as per normal due to their different cultures. He had a strong, oval chin, and was as annoyingly built as all the other Humans were.

  Rhidi had thought the Kafya strong during the war, and assumed that a lot of the strength that came from Human warriors was their armor. Her months here on Earth had taught her that Humans were unsettlingly strong, and made her understand just how weak her own race was due to their technological advances.

  Normally she had thought male Kafya quite strapping, as was custom with the yellows, but being chest to chest with this Human male…

  “... So, uh, Private Morris.” Rhidi began, keeping her voice low as she glanced up at the Human. “Did you… work in mines, or?”

  “Mines?” Morris said with a laugh. “No, I was a mechanic.”

  Rhidi perked up her ears. “Oh! You work the uh… engines and such? Of automobiles?”

  “Trucks, mostly.” Morris said with a smile, but both he and Rhidi let out a shout of alarm as the semi-truck slammed on its brakes, avoiding an errant Officer’s wife running a red light.

  The semi-truck driver then hit the gas to clear the intersection for the other trucks behind, and this caused Morris to slam backwards into Rhidi, the two being crammed into the corner as all the recruits were sent hollering into the rear of the trailer. Morris, for his credit, held up his elbows, keeping Rhidi from being crushed by his own bulk. This did however mean he was face to face with the bright yellow Kafya, and Rhidi felt the man’s chest press hard against her own.

  There was an awkward six seconds as all the other recruits settled, and Morris was finally able to lean back, now clearing his own throat and running a hand down the front of his uniform; Rhidi was not super well endowed, unlike Recruit Inthur, but there was enough of her to let Morris know what his chest was pressing against.

  “Sorry about that.” Morris murmured, and it seemed to finally click with him that Rhidi was a woman, his neck flushing.

  Rhidi waved a hand between the two of them as she pinned her ears back; It was difficult with the blood now rushing to them. “No no! It’s fine, I appreciate you not… crushing me.”

  Shasta let out a quiet snicker, both Morris and Rhidi looking over at the Lilgara who was pinned between two Pwah.

  Rhidi let out a low growl from her throat, ears still pinned as best as she could, while Morris squinted at Shasta.

  “Are those soda can tabs?” Morris asked, pointing across his chest at the long chain of soda can pull tabs that hung near Shasta’s right pocket.

  Shasta grumped, flaring his hood as best he could while pinching his brow-ridges together. “Mind your own businesss…”

  Rhidi stuck her tongue out at him, which made Morris laugh, and Rhidi’s ears to perk up a little taller.

  The ride to the range was short, in terms of distance, but having to breathe in Morris for the entire ride had made it feel like an eternity to Rhidi. By the time she got off the cattle car, she pretty much had his cologne and toothpaste flavor locked into her brain for life. The range was a basic looking creature, one of the few used for the zeroing of rifles and nothing much else. These were known as “short-stop” ranges due to them only being twenty five UAA yards in length.

  Rhidi narrowed her eyes at that memory as she fell into formation; The UAA and EUC still refused to use the same units of measure, and she had even heard that “stone” was used in an even more stubborn EUC country. Every member race of the Inner Dolcir Coalition used the same measurements, but here on this little dirt rock they still couldn’t decide on just one.

  Along the range was a wooden overhang to provide cover for the shooters, a large latrine towards the rear of the range, the ammo dump, bleachers, and what appeared to be a sprinkling of dark green sand bags all up and down the range itself. It was basic, sandy, and as per usual, surrounded by the tall pine trees of Fort Benning.

  The Drill Sergeants ran them through the “zeroing” process while they ate bar rations for breakfast, at which they would use their “iron sights” to make sure the weapon could strike a target at three hundred yards. The number alone made all of the non-Human recruits glance at each other warily; Three hundred yards was akin to five hundred lardil, and the fact Humans were hitting targets with non-augmented, or digital, sights at that range made them all a little uneasy.

  They formed lines and went to the ammo dump to collect their magazines for the rifles; Rhidi found them extremely heavy, nearly triple the weight of a power cell for her old gaur-rail carbine. Guar-rail carbines slammed a titanium dart at four times the speed of sound, but proved to be lackluster against Ur shielding technology. The darts traveled so fast they would hit, and then skip off the Ur shields, warbling off into the distance uselessly. The weapons of Humanity instead threw a 30-06 lead bullet at their targets; Battle rifles, such as the SR-113 Mod. 2, used the 30-06 “Oakley”, a shortened version of the round that used a far more powerful propellant. This allowed a better magazine capacity, as well as cutting down on size without handicapping the round too heavily for ranged effect on target. Other rifles, such as ones used by marksmen, used a full sized 30-06 “Heritage”... and were rather frightening, as Rhidi had seen the pictures of what they had done to the Ur.

  They were all given a hundred and twenty rounds, but there was a smug smirk on all of the Human recruits’ faces that made Rhidi worried. Her alarm only grew when the recruits were segregated, all of the Humans going first as they formed their sticks behind a range slot. The Drill Sergeants pulled out their data slates, walking behind the many shooters and looking over their prone forms to the berm.

  “Targets up!” Drill Sergeant McPhiston called out, and someone in the ammo dump hit a switch.

  Along the berm, target modules slowly trundled up from their hidden dugout within the ground; They were tall, black figures on a field of white, while in the middle was a white circle with a smaller red circle within it. The figures were vaguely humanoid, Rhidi guessed, and a green light pulsed from the bottom of the display hangers. Everyone put in their ear protection, which was easier said than done for the Kafya; Regular electronic earmuffs worked just fine for everyone else, but with their tall, animalistic ears, Kafya required inner-ear electronic dampening pods.

  Rhidi was extremely ticklish within her ears, and she kept giggling trying to get them in place.

  “Commence zero protocols.” Drill Sergeant McPhiston called out in a bored tone when he saw that everyone was ready, and the range erupted with gunfire.

  Recruit Inthur and three other blue Kafya let out a yelp of pain, as they had bumbled their inner-ear dampening pods. Other Kafya and Lilgara had to come to their rescue, the Pwah just ignoring them as they watched the Humans keenly.

  Rhidi, along with the Lilgara and other Kafya, were watching as well; The iron sights on these SR-113 rifles were an odd arrangement of a turning-barrel rear sight, and a hooded-peg front sight at the end of the barrel. Rhidi’s old weapon, as well as other highly advanced weapons in the IDC, did not have manual sights, instead relying on an electronic suite to make sure rounds landed on target. They had all studied the pictures and manuals before, but seeing it in action was completely different.

  The Humans were fast, firing a single round every second and then pausing after they fired their third shot. The sudden burst of noise and silence was deafening in the weirdest of ways, leaving all of the non-Humans staring on in confusion.

  “Recruit Simpson, one click right, confirm with three more rounds. Recruit Maverick, zeroed, exit the lane. Private Herlick, zeroed, exit the lane.” Drill Sergeant McPhiston listed off, and slowly Human recruits began exiting and entering the range in a steady stream. The target hangers would slide down when a recruit would leave the bay and come back up with a fresh target, ready to go for the next shooter.

  Rhidi sought out Alias, who was in a group of other Pwah, and they were staring hard at the range while muttering. “Alias! How quickly-”

  “Three rounds.” Alias said quickly, waving his hand at Rhidi in a motion that asked her to keep her voice down. “Nearly all of them are zeroing their weapons with only three rounds, that doesn’t make sense.”

  A female Pwah turned to Alias, her pink-lemonade colored hair bright in the sun from under her patrol cap. “I’m telling you, they were using some kind of Human ritual magic! I told you how I saw them taking the bolts of their rifles out, and they kept looking down the barrel with a little mirror!”

  “How would they zero a weapon with a mirror?!” Alias hissed. “And while staring at a wall with black circle drawn on it?”

  The female Pwah stamped her feet. “There was also a line from the center of the circle! I don’t know how they did it, but they all pre-zeroed their weapons and didn’t even bother telling us how!”

  “... They’re going to humble us.” Rhidi said quietly, her voice easily heard with the electronic muffs they all wore. “We’re all going to look like a bunch of bumbling idiots out here…”

  “Shit.” Alias spat, and the other Pwah sighed out, resting their hands on their hips.

  In only half an hour, all of the Human recruits had zeroed their weapons via their iron sights. They all now lounged in the bleachers, watching the non-Human recruits as they formed lines of their own. True to Alias and the other Pwahs’ math, the Humans averaged just three rounds to zero, but none of the children of the stars had been able to do whatever the hell the Human recruits had done earlier with their rifles.

  This led to them all going in raw, and Rhidi just hoped they wouldn’t bring shame to their planets and people with this display.

  Rhidi, regardless of those around her, had studied the manuals quite deeply to understand these “iron sights”; These were normally used as backups, just in case the main optic suite was damaged during battle and the helmet could no longer communicate with the weapon system. They were also used in cases where the enemy had devices to see the glow or energy readouts of the optic suite, known as “going to irons”. The Ur had been stumped by this, as they had been enjoying a leg-up by knowing where their enemies were by the glow of their advanced targeting systems.

  The barrel of the rear sight could be rotated, a four position rotary UAA diopter device: There was an open facing used for close quarters, then a series of peep holes for the other ranges. They had been told to zero their rifles on the “2” setting, then adjust with the barrel for longer ranges. I felt odd to Rhidi, zeroing the rifle for two hundred UAA yards on a twenty five yard range, but then again the targets were also calibrated for maintaining that zero…

  She thought better of overthinking it all, and just settled into the sandbags when it was her turn to shoot. Finally getting into a lane had been slow, and it was a bitter taste watching one Kafya take fifty seven rounds to zero their rifle. That stupid tart Inthur was on her fourth magazine, and she had two female Human recruits trying to help her get the damn rifle inline. They were all military, after all, and the streams of failures was a hard sting.

  Rhidi fussed with her cargo pocket and pulled the magazine free; Normally, as she had been told by the soldiers in the ammo dump, they would all have some kind of battle webbing to hold their magazines, or a “plate carrier”, but the Drill Sergeants didn’t want to deal with turning in gear in case more non-Humans split.

  She plugged the magazine into the flared magazine well, turned her rifle to the side, and racked the charging handle with an oddly satisfying “k’chunk!” of the bolt. She then brought the rifle to her shoulder, looked through the rear sight, and froze.

  She had no idea what she was looking at.

  It was… just a damn stick!

  Rhidi blinked through the rear sight as sweat coursed along her fur, both from the heat and from pure nerves. Her tail gave an awkward wag as she remembered what the manuals said, and she tried her best to keep the front sight hood in line with the rear circle, only leaving the peg visible. She placed the center of the red circle along the top line of the front sight post, and then slowly pulled back on the trigger.

  The rifle barked, making her close her eyes as the piston cycled and gave her shoulder a light punch. She blinked open her eyes, then wagged her tail.

  “Well, that wasn’t so bad.” Rhidi breathed out with a smile, though she could hear Inthur crying like an idiot a few lanes over. She rolled her eyes and brought her rifle back up to her eye, and slowly squeezed off two more rounds.

  Rhidi had to remind herself to aim for the same spot every time, even though she saw she was shooting way left. The 30-06 “Oakley” round was a stout little beast that thumped her shoulder harder than any other weapon she had used, but the mechanical actions of the weapon itself held an odd, satisfying sway over her. With her ear so close to the weapon due to the cheek weld, she could even hear everything working as the bolt came back into the springs.

  After she had shot her three rounds, she placed her selector to “safe” and held up her hand, giving it a little wave. Her hand was, of course, bright yellow, and it was hard to miss.

  “Yeah yeah, I see you safety belt.” Drill Sergeant Curahee called out, holding up his slate as stepped over to the lane and squatted down beside her. He pulled up her target, and Rhidi was surprised to see him smiling. “Well hell, looks like it’s just the blue and pink ones that can’t shoot for shit. You’re grouping left, let’s take ‘er a few clicks to the right.”

  Rhidi nodded, smiling brightly as she took the offered screwdriver and unlocked the rear sight, allowing her to adjust the windage just enough to satisfy Drill Sergeant Curahee.

  He took back the screwdriver after she tightened back down, then pointed a bladed hand downrange. “Alright furball give me three, aim as you should.”

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant.” Rhidi said, and quickly got back behind her rifle. She felt a little giddy as she slowly squeezed off three more rounds, her ears wobbling along with her tail as she fired.

  Drill Sergeant Curahee looked back down at his data-slate, then tapped at it a few times with an approving nod. “Well well well, looks like you aren’t a useless bag of dog biscuits after all.”

  Rhidi snapped her head around to look at the Human, and he was grinning.

  “Private Rhidi, you are zeroed. Exit the lane and turn in your ammo.” Drill Sergeant Curahee said with a wink, then stood up to go check on a Pwah that had his hand held up.

  “You mother fucker.” Rhidi grumbled, remembering that phrase from the other Human recruits.

  She cleared her weapon and stood up, though her anger evaporated when she turned in all but six rounds of her ammunition. Nearby a few of the Human recruits were watching, and a female let out a long whistle.

  “Wooow, look at you! Only six rounds to zero.” She said, her blonde hair rippling in the bright sun. “What is big blue butt’s problem then? She’s gone through six magazines so far!”

  Rhidi shrugged, allowing herself the pleasure of leaning against the turn-in counter to the ammo dump. “Not all Kafya are created equal, some of us are dumber than the rest.”

  “I see…” The female Human hummed, then crossed her arms across her flat chest. “So what do all the colors mean? Are you based off of a sect system, or is it like a caste?”

  Rhidi chuckled and shook her head. “No no, not a caste, it’s more like a clan kinda thing. Browns, reds, and oranges are usually our warrior clans, while the blues, pinks, and yellows work in society. Er… civilian sector, I think you call it. Blacks, greens, and whites work wherever they can, really, while purples and golds tend to be in leadership positions. It’s not a strict system, but there are just patterns that are too obvious to ignore and certain colors flow freely. We all tend to marry and stick with our own clans, but sometimes they do mix, why you find oranges and grays running around sometimes.”

  “So what does your clan do, then? You are obviously yellow, yet here you are in the military.” A male Human recruit asked, though he was thinner than the other males with lightly tanned skin and black hair.

  Rhidi pressed her lips together, and leaned up off the counter. “Uh… well. My father works in accounting, but my sister and mother are… models…”

  There was a collective snort of laughter, and Rhidi hung her head backwards as the small gaggle of Humans began to laugh.

  “It’s not funnnyyy!” Rhidi drawled out, even though she felt the shame crawling up her spine. “It’s just… it’s what they do! They put on clothes and model-”

  Two of the female Human recruits struck poses of a modeling fashion, and Rhidi pinned her ears back.

  “Oh, shut up.” Rhidi growled, but even she had to laugh as the two women started stepping towards the bleachers in a cat-walking strut.

  Rhidi took a seat with the Humans and the other, faster off-worlders, and they collectively watched as the rest of the recruits did their best to zero their weapons. Inthur, finally, got her weapon zeroed after it turned out she was looking above the diopter sight, and after discounting the blunder of the blue Kafya, it took an average of thirty rounds to zero for the non-Humans.

  Horrible, in comparison.

  Rhidi had made it out along with Alias in the club of only needing six rounds, as did a lot of the Pwah and brown Kafya. The Lilgara took particular issue with the iron sights, and needed on average thirty rounds to figure out how it all worked in practice.

  With this being the only task for the day, and it being Friday, they were all bussed back to their barracks and given the rest of the day off for recovery. The ride back had been less pleasant, as Rhidi was crushed in between two male Lilgara, but she did manage to give Private Morris a little wave when they caught each other’s eyes.

  He was crammed in between two female Pwah, but they were far less annoyed than he was judging by their faces.

  They arrived back, unloaded, and then set about their recovery tasks. Weapons were cleaned but not turned in, instead staying with them in the barracks and hung on ready hooks at the end of their racks.

  Rhidi focused her free time on her laundry, tossing the wet clothes into the dryer and putting her more delicate things into a mesh bag, so they wouldn’t get tangled. With that done, she cleaned up her locker, swept up even more dog biscuits when they fell out of the pockets of her other uniforms, and arranged everything back into a logical order.

  By the time she got all of her paw-boots untied, it was time for lunch. Breakfast had been those dreadful bar rations, which seemed to be more like a dense, greasy cookie than anything else, and she was wanting some actual food.

  They formed up, marched to the DFAC, and she once again ran through the entire rigamarole of getting food: Sometimes the Drill Sergeants liked to quiz them on random facts, or make them recite creeds before they were able to go inside.

  With tray, fork, and shovel in hand, Rhidi made her way down the line; Today was apparently “enchilada day”, and Rhidi had never heard of such a dish. She rounded the corner to the dishing line of the cooks, and her nose was assaulted by so many scents that her mouth wasn’t sure whether to water, or recoil.

  “Congratulations on White Phase, Private.” The cook said, a massive male Human that was as wide as he was tall, and as bald as he was sweaty. “They won’t tell you this, but you get fifteen minutes to eat now, so try and taste the food this time, eh?”

  Rhidi’s tail wagged involuntarily at both the news, and the serving of chicken enchiladas the man spatulated onto her plate.

  Despite the rumors and songs, the civilian contractors on Fort Benning took a great amount of care and pride in their food, and these odd little… wraps looked delectable. She sniffed lightly at them as she was given a scoop of tomato rice, a scoop of pinto beans, a slice of cornbread, and a weird, jiggly dessert round that was covered in some kind of brown liquid.

  She quickly got her bowl of salad, moving around a week 1 Red Phase recruit that was telling the entire DFAC he was a “hungry rabbit” while a Drill Sergeant bellowed into his ear, and set down her tray. She quickly got her water, again moving around another week 1 Red Phase recruit that was saying “glub glub thirsty fishes need water” after spilling their own cup, and sat down to finally eat.

  Rhidi leaned down and breathed in the odd little wraps; The light green sauce was tangy and made her mouth water fully this time, and the white drizzle of cream flirted with her nostrils. It smelled… spicy, that was the word, some kind of pepper that the Humans loved to consume with gusto.

  Rhidi hoped that the cooks remembered that not all of them were Human, and turned down the heat a little bit.

  She grabbed her fork, cut away a hunk of the enchilada, and took her first bite.

  The flavorful explosion on her tongue actually made Rhidi touch her face with her free hand as she chewed, and her tail wagged unconsciously behind her. The sauce was tangy, slightly sweet, and bursting with the gusto of vegetables she couldn’t name if she tried. Laden with more spice, salt, and pepper, the shredded chicken was also layered with cheese, creating a whirlwind of pleasure in Rhidi’s mouth.

  She quickly scooped up another forkful of the enchiladas and popped it into her mouth, happily kicking her paw-boots back and forth along the tile under the table. As she chewed this second mouthful, she figured out the wrap was made of soft… corn.

  Had to be corn, it tasted similar to the cornbread and was yellow.

  She remembered her salad and quickly ate it, then swiftly took down half of the scoops of pinto beans and rice. Watching the Human recruits, Rhidi saw them putting the rice, beans, and enchiladas together; She got a little bit of all three on her spoon and popped it into her mouth. The combination of textures and flavors were found to be highly agreeable to her palate, and she quickly ate the rest of her food in record time.

  It was not for being rushed, but more for enthusiasm than anything else.

  The weird, jiggly thing was a force to be reckoned with, and the weird, slimy texture nearly made Rhidi blow it out of her nostrils as she gagged. It was sweet, sure, but that was not a mouth feel that Rhidi could ever find herself getting behind.

  She instead gave it to Shasta, who slurped it down whole as if it was an egg.

  Still retching lightly from the “flan”, as she found out it was called, they put away their trays, and made their way back towards the barracks after forming up. The rest of the day was a calm blur as the Drill Sergeants left them to their own devices, and Rhidi got all of her laundry done with little drama to be had.

  With her socks not full of shaving cream and tucked away, she spent the rest of her day scrolling along her data-slate, reading up on the histories of Humanity and having a long, long dive through something called “The Viking Age”. She found it to be an apt analogy to current Human society; Warriors in arms on a voyage across seas known and unknown, laying waste to the lands beyond.

  She couldn’t help but chuckle at that, and read long enough that she was caught off guard by the call for lights out.