August 22, 2005 - The Facility - Köroğlu Mountain Range - Bolu Province, Turkey

MacKenna sat at her desk reviewing an information packet that had been sent to her from The Council. The proposal she had introduced before her fiery speech about naval assets had born fruit and now she had a few decisions to make. She had proposed increasing the size of available forces in The Project by starting at the source: selecting candidates from around the world who had already enlisted to serve in their respective country’s military, but had yet to attend basic training.

The requirements she’d laid out were fairly strict, so the overall potential recruits worldwide still wouldn’t be very high. The potential candidate had to be able to speak English to a reasonable degree, as the bulk of the program was conducted in English. They had to have little to no familial ties, so recruits that would be typically turned away from countries such as The United States or France for being the last surviving member of their family name would find themselves suddenly eligible.

Lastly, they needed to be selected based on their likelihood of service retention; recruits that might wash out of training for one reason or another needed to be weeded out ahead of time, which meant a more strict psychological screening process. That was one of the major hurdles with the plan due to the inability to screen every person in the participating countries in The Project. Apparently the Council decided the solution was to target recruitment centers in medium population areas, where volume of recruitment was high enough for there to be a large enough applicant pool, but small enough that the screening process could happen without bogging down regular recruitment.

Canada had stepped up to the plate and immediately offered to host the basic military training since their armed forces already went to a combined training facility for all three branches of service and were already a bilingual training facility. Selecting sites for advanced training for the three branches of service became the second hurdle. The Project had very specific needs which meant the training needed to be very specialized.

Ultimately, it was decided that once basic training was completed, ground forces would immediately be transfered to The Facility and put through the thirty-six month training program, with anybody unable to complete the initial eighteen week physical training portion being trained as support personnel instead. Air forces would be transfered to Eglin Air Force Base in Valparaiso, Florida, USA for training for on F-35Bs. Naval Forces will train at the various Class A schools in Canada before being transfered to Port-aux-Français for final training and briefing.

Interestingly, the council unanimously decided that the basic training regiment would be segregated from the rest of the regular Canadian forces training and would include training instructors from various militaries in the Project. Apparently nobody wanted the forces to harbor a loyalty to any one country.

Willow snorted at that thought. Loyalty to the Program is all that these soldiers will know by the time training is over. She paused and reflected on that thought. Sic Semper Tyrannis? She shook her head to clear it. I need to make sure I always stay grounded in the purpose of the Project. The power I could wield with no oversight to stop me is terrifying. She glanced at the clock on the wall noting how late in the evening it had become and raised her hands over her head, stretching with a yawn. She could finish reviewing everything in the morning.

January 9, 2006 - Canadian Forces Leadership and Recruit School - Saint-Jean, Quebec, Canada

David Smith was pulled from his quiet contemplations as the bus pulled into the receiving station at the base. The entire ride had been fairly subdued since the bus was mostly empty. When his Army recruiter back home in North Carolina had told him that he had been selected for a special program he hadn’t expected to be flown to Canada for his basic training. The rest of the people on the bus were also from the United States, but that didn’t mean much because there were only six others besides himself.

The sun had fallen hours ago, and judging by the crowd gathered they must have been the last bus to arrive. Grabbing his backpack with the few belongings he brought with him, he filed off the bus. Immediately he was rushed into line by the uniformed personnel and instructed to place his bag at his feet. He gave his name when requested and held his place in line while the staff continued to take names.

It became quickly obvious that several people around him weren’t speaking English or French and he spared a glance around at the rest of his fellow recruits. He saw every shade of skin and shape of eye that he could think of. He caught a few words of languages he recognized: German, Japanese, something that sounded like Russian - and many more that he didn’t. He realized somebody was shouting for quiet at the head of the group and he turned his attention in that direction.

“My name is Sergeant Samuel Harding. I am your senior training instructor. From this point forward everything that comes out of your mouth will be proceeded by the statement “Sir, Trainee, your last name, reporting as ordered. You will use this phrase no matter the statement. If I ask you is the sky blue, you WILL preface by saying that statement before you say yes sir. Am I understood?” A chorus of voices repeated the phrase and surprisingly nobody got it wrong.

“By now, unless you have the brain capacity of a single celled organism, you have realized this training squadron is not what you might call typical. With the exception of the Canadians present each and every one of you signed up to serve your country and expected to be trained somewhere within her borders. It must have been quite a shock to be told as you’re shipping out that you’ll be flying to Canada for your training. I do not care about your expectations. I only care that you meet my expectations. There are eighty-eight individuals standing before me. At the end of training I expect to see one combined unit with eighty-eight working parts.”

“You are not permitted to fail. I know it’s been a long two days for most of you just getting here. You are permitted one last night of comfort before your asses belong to me. Follow your assigned training instructor to your barracks, and get some rack time. Misery begins at 04:30. Fall out!”

March 13, 2006 - Canadian Forces Leadership and Recruit School - Saint-Jean, Quebec, Canada

Willow, Marcus, Jonathan, and Ariel all sat in a conference room with Sergeant Harding sipping coffee while they waited on their sixth participant to arrive. The silence was broken when a man entered the room, snapped a quick salute and sat down in the last chair. “Lieutenant Felice, so good of you to join us.” Willow said stiffly. “My apologies Ma’am, I was held up by Major Butler who thought he could order me to tell him why he wasn’t invited to this meeting with ‘Those visiting officers’. Personally I think he wanted to schmooze politically more than actually caring about the meeting details.”

All the commanders frowned at the same time. Jonathan spoke up, “That’s just what we need. All our little secrets spilled by some upstart officer who just wants to score political points for promotion rather than putting in good honest hard work. I had to put up with enough officers like that in RAF before I was transfered, I certainly don’t need to deal with any now.” There was a round of nods from the assembled officers.

Willow turned to the sitting Sergeant. “So tell me Harding, graduation is in a week. Are we going to get a full compliment from this first detail?” Harding nodded, “Yes Ma’am. And it’s looking like the following four squadrons are on track for full graduation as well. “Excellent news Sergeant.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s about time, have the army recruits been separated out and moved someplace we can address them?”

The Sergeant nodded. “Yes Ma’am. If you’ll all follow me, we kept them in the barracks while the rest have been given time to go to the BEX to pick up any thing they’ll need to take with them to their next duty stations.” The group stood and filed out to head toward the barracks.

As they approached the door Sergeant Harding presented an ID card to the window. Shuffling could be heard inside as a recruit shuffled an authorized list of persons. The recruit pushed the door open for the Sergeant and immediately snapped to attention, “Officer in the Barracks, ATTENTION!” The sounds of people shooting to a standing position and boots clacking together echoed through the dormitory area.

“At-Ease.” MacKenna sounded off. “Everybody into the main bunk area, on the double. Find a bed and take a seat.” The assembled recruits, thirty-two in total found places to sit and settled down. Sergeant Harding spoke first, “Recruits, I told you at the start of your training that for the next ten weeks, your asses belonged to me. At the end of the week you all will graduate from trainees and qualify for technical training. At that time, I will relinquish possession of your posteriors to these officers behind me. At that time your asses belong to them for the next thirty-six months.” Some of the recruits exchanged glances before one raised his hand.

Sergeant Harding pointed to the recruit. “Sir, Trainee Smith reporting as ordered. Sir, did I hear you correctly? Thirty-six months? Didn’t you mean weeks, sir?” Harding started to speak but Marcus placed his hand on Hardings shoulder, and the Sergeant yielded to the Colonel.

“You heard right son, your asses belong to us for the next thirty-six months. I don’t know what job your recruiters promised you, most of them are full of shit anyway, but the reason you did not complete your basic training a regular duty station in your home nations was because of the special selection that occurred before you were set to ship out.”

“Every one of you signed up for either your regular army or your country’s version of the United States Marine Corps. What you’ve been selected for doesn’t exist on paper except as some line item with a benign name. I’ll let General MacKenna explain, and you folks should feel privileged she’s here in person. The other training squadrons won’t get that kind of special treatment. Ya’ll are the first and we wanted you to feel special about it.” Marcus stepped back and nodded to MacKenna.

“You folks were all selected based on some criteria that doesn’t really matter right now for a program that doesn’t exist as far as the rest of the world is concerned. The reason you are all getting to find this out now is because the training that comes next for you all is at my facility. The other squadrons will find this all out the hard way; by showing up on my doorstep.” She gave a hard look to each recruit, making sure to maintain eye contact for a few seconds.

“You’re joining the ranks of some of the most elite soldiers on the face of the planet and following in the footsteps trail-blazed by special operators all over the world. Not all of you will succeed at the grueling training ahead of you. Those who can’t take the training will be retrained in roles supporting those of you who pass. Not everybody is destined to be a tier one soldier, just as not everybody is destined to be a load-master or parachute rigger.”

“When you leave this base next week you’ll be flown to Turkey and from there, on to our facility. I’m putting trust and faith in you all by giving the inaugural class a little forewarning about the future. I’m asking you to place your trust and faith in me by keeping it to yourselves until you’re physically in my house. Don’t worry, the cadets you’re trained with will all find their way there eventually. Our facility just isn’t equipped for handling the training of pilots or naval crews.”

“Get any nerves you might have out of your system by this time next week, because the next three years are going to be hell. We’ll see you in Turkey. Dismissed.” The recruits moved to the other bunk room and talked quietly among themselves as the gathered officers filed out of the barracks. Ariel leaned over to Willow and asked “Do you think you scared them?” Willow snorted, “I sure as hell hope I did. Learning to act in spite of your fear is what makes you stronger. If half of them make it through the operator course I’ll take it as a win for us.” She gazed up at the sky pensively, “I just hope we have three years left.”