Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns

Did they send me daughters, when I asked for sons?

You're the saddest bunch I ever met

But you can bet, before we're through

Mister, I'll make a man out of you

Mulan - “I'll Make a Man Out of You”

Preparing for war takes time. There are no quick fixes, no shortcuts, and no easy answers, and time is the one commodity always in short supply. As Napoleon Bonaparte said to one of his officers, “Ask me for anything but time.”

The alien horde was coming, and they needed time to build an Army that had a prayer of victory. Humans were all too familiar with this brutal equation, so once they made the decision they rolled up their sleeves and went to work. One by one they worked their way through the problems facing them, and now the Triumvirate (or Tetrarchy, the name change was still in limbo) were lining up...albeit reluctantly...to do their part.

Problem #1 - They would need a Navy to defeat the horde. Actually, they would need two Navies...the initial stopgap task force comprising of freighters, and the purpose-built fighter squadrons that so far existed only on paper. Without those ships, the rest was moot.

Solution - There were several spacedock facilities scattered amongst the various planets. The word had already gone out to the merchant fleet to make for the nearest port and begin retrofits, while plans for the new fighters (dubbed the XF-101 Comet, an Endo/Exo-Atmospheric design) were being distributed. They needed the freighters now, so they had first priority. When those retrofits were complete, they would give the dock space over to the fighters.

Problem #2 - A modern military needs more than just ships. Weapons, communication equipment, transportation, much of which did not yet exist. The Triumvirate was a textbook example of a Post-Scarcity society, meaning that its citizens could have anything they wanted on demand...but the fabrication centers created items retail, in ones and fives and dozens. The Army needed weapons in the thousands, the concept of mass production not existing anywhere within Triumvirate space.

Solution - Mass-Production fabricators could be built, but that would take time...time the Triumvirate did not have. So instead the government simply seized control of all the fabricators, “For the Duration”, and placed a strict rationing regimen for civilian goods on the populace while they cranked guns and artillery pieces out, cottage industry style. It was an imperfect solution but it was the best they could do in the time frame they had to work with.

Problem #3 - A military needs more than just fighters. The shipyards needed construction crews, the Army needed clerks, cooks, drivers, logistics specialists, the Navy needed all those plus individuals trained in shipboard duties...the list went on and on, and they needed them immediately.

Solution - This one was simple. They were already drafting soldiers, so they made detailed lists of what they required, and the closest civilian analogs already in existence. They would hand a clerk in a shipping company a uniform and put them to work doing what he had been doing all along, with some additional training regarding the military’s needs. Most of the support personnel draftees whispered a fervent prayer of thanks to their respective deities that they were not being called on to fight and buckled down in their new roles.

Problem #4 - Creating the tools an Army (and Navy) needed was simple enough, training the pacifistic Triumvirate races to use them was quite another. Teaching a Saurotaur, for example, how to disassemble, clean, and fire his weapon was child's play. Teaching him to point it at the enemy intending to kill was another matter.

Solution - Unlike the senior officers, drawn from the Guilds, a very different sort of individual was needed in the trenches. Someone with practical, first-hand experience in turning civilians into soldiers, a specialized profession that had not been needed in almost a century. However, they had the next best thing, the Historical Reenactors. Training camps were one scenario they’d practiced over the years, and now...

...they would do it for real.

Acolyte Nassat shivered as they directed him and the other draftees to a large open-air holding area. Like the rest of his species, he’d given a huge sigh of relief when the humans announced they would fight the horde...only to be quickly followed by abject terror when he’d learned the Triumvirate races would be fighting right beside them. He consoled himself with the thought the odds made it unlikely he himself would be one of the poor souls sent to war, and if by some strange twist of fate they selected him, then surely they would make an exception for a priest in training!

But as he quickly discovered to his horror, the odds weren’t in his favor, and there would be no exceptions. He’d pleaded with the Venerable Eashray to intercede on his behalf, reminding him of the conversation they’d had on Morality. This was a perfect example of why they must hold fast in their beliefs of pacifism, or suffer the very Corruption they feared.

Only to have the Venerable turn on him, informing him it was his duty to serve as they had commanded him, to save the Triumvirate from harm. His betrayal had shocked Nassat to the core, and at first, he assumed this was another test. He’d begun his rebuttal when Eashray had quickly silenced him, reminding him that in their ancient past, there were always some of the herd that were sacrificed to save the whole. The Venerable’s voice shook with anger as he condemned the young Acolyte for his cowardice, when other, more important individuals, needed to be kept from harm.

It wasn’t until that very moment that Nassat realized the Venerable was referring to himself, that the ancient priest...one in no danger of being drafted, because of his age...willing sacrifice not only his beliefs but his fellow Saurotaurs if it meant he would live.

The sheer hypocrisy of the spiritual leader he had once looked to for guidance shattered him, and it was a troubled and broken young man who had reported for induction, a few days later. There had been few exchanges amongst the new draftees, most were too terrified and shell-shocked to engage in any conversation, other than whispered prayers. As he owned no other garments Nassat had reported for duty in his Acolyte robes, quickly finding himself offering what little consolation he could to those seeking solace. Unfortunately, no one was able to offer solace to him in return.

They now wore name tags on lanyards around their necks along with an identification number, written in both their own language and the strange-looking human script. From there they boarded transports that ferried them across the provinces to a remote location in the wilderness, arriving at a new camp still under construction. It was the most primitive cantonment he had ever seen, instead of the permanent structures he’d expected to find most of the edifices seemed to be constructed with either thin plastic sheeting, or in many cases, actual fabric. They would make for poor protection from the elements, and Nassat made a mental note to point out this deficiency at the first opportunity.

The holding area was a roped off meadow near the buildings, and a short distance away he spotted an odd collection of walls, ditches, and sections of fence that seemed to serve no purpose at all. It was all strange, but as he struggled to make sense of what use it could serve, a strange hush came over the crowd. Nassat scanned the area around him, before spotting the cause.

A single human approached them, dressed in loose-fitting mottled clothing wearing a broad-brimmed hat...and everything about the Earthling screamed Predator. A hundred sets of eyes watched the bipedal alien as he made his way to the front of the enclosure, before taking position on a small raised platform. He folded his arms behind his back and scanned the herd with a carnivore’s eye, and Nassat could feel the others desperate urge to bolt...but one look into the human’s face made him too afraid to move.

“FALL IN!” the human barked, as every Saurotaur in the enclosure flinched at the sound of his voice as if they’d been physically assaulted. “On the ground beneath you, you will see ten yellow lines,” he continued, ignoring their reaction. “You will place yourselves in rows of ten on each line, your front hooves touching the edge. Do it now!”

Nassat and the others scrambled to comply, but in their fear, their attempts to do as the human had ordered quickly descended into chaos. “God damn it!” the human shrieked, “can’t you damn aliens do anything right?” He jumped from the platform and waded into the crowd as the draftees tried to get out of his way, but those in the rear penned in the front ranks, holding them fast. The human grabbed a fellow Saurotaur and dragged him to the line, pulling his head down and pointing. “Right fucking there! Do you see it?”

The terrified individual could only offer a quick bob of his head in reply, but that only seemed to set off the human yet again. “When I ask you a question, you will answer with ‘Yes Drill Sergeant!’ Do you understand?”

“...er...y-yes...Drill Sergeant…” the fellow mumbled.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?” the human screamed, “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“Yes Drill Sergeant!” he howled, and Nassat was certain he was only moments away from passing out from fear. His yellow eyes were wild with terror, darting about as he searched for escape...but that too drew the human’s ire.

“EYES FRONT GOD DAMN IT!” he shrieked. “You will look straight ahead, and nowhere else. Do you understand?”

“Yes Drill Sergeant!” came the reply, but it was sporadic at best.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” he screamed again.

“YES DRILL SERGEANT!” the herd howled in response, as the human looked at them in disgust.

“Pitiful...just goddamn pitiful.” He eyed his first victim, searching for faults, before snorting in disgust and moving down the line. “How many did I say were in a row?”

Nassat struggled to recall what the human had just told them, but some of the others spoke up first. “Ten!”

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” the human screeched. “TRY IT AGAIN GODDAMN IT YOU USELESS BASTARDS!”

“TEN DRILL SERGEANT!” the herd wailed.

“THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE THERE TWELVE IN THE FRONT RANK?” the human screamed, “CAN’T YOU USELESS FUCKS COUNT? I WANT TEN RANKS OF TEN RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!”

The herd broke down into chaos yet again...but this time it was chaos with purpose. It took a few minutes for the herd to sort themselves out, as the human cursed and shoved them to their positions, but finally, they stood in formation as he’d commanded.

The Drill Sergeant stalked the front rank like the predator they knew him to be, before coming to a halt in front of them. He glared with a menace Nassat had never experienced in his life, and he wanted nothing more than to avert his gaze from those threatening eyes...but he stood where he was told, looking straight ahead, his body trembling with fear.

“My name is Drill Sergeant Lin,” the human said at last, in something approaching normal tones, “and in the next few weeks you will come to know me better than you know yourselves.” He smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about that display of incisors. Nassat was convinced he was sizing them up for their nutritional value.

“You will learn to march like soldiers,” Lin continued, “shoot like soldiers...and if I tell you to, die like soldiers!” The predatory grin got even wider as he patted a strange object on his hip. “And if any of you think of running...think again. Because if you do, I will fucking shoot you.” He pulled out what had to be a weapon, a sleek black device that was even more menacing than he was. “If you don’t think I’m serious, then I suggest you try me.” He gazed over the herd as if he was searching for something. “No takers? Fine...less paperwork that way.” He slid the weapon back into its container and pointed over at the odd collection of walls and fences.

“That, boys and girls, is the Obstacle Course,” Lin said with glee. “Every day, you will run the course. If you piss me off, you will run the course...and every week the walls get higher, and the ditches wider.” Nassat could only stare at the structure in horror, now that he understood its purpose. He wanted them to navigate that?

Drill Sergeant Lin cackled with delight as he saw their reaction. “Company Bravo, 1st Battalion...welcome to Hell.”