Service Cadet Ch. 04

SERVICE CADET IV

AUGUST SMAXWELL

Copyright © 2026 August Smaxwell

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

The Recruitment Office-IV

The Trooper in the poster had a whole throw of men behind him, a swarm of galactic boots proudly marching up the ramp. His tightly gloved hand beckoned to me, whispering the sweetest of nothings. Come have a try, he would say. Imagine your life aboard a starship.  

It would have been rude not to oblige him.

I'd walk through the mess hall each day, watching the silent shuffle overtake the crowd of young, strong, ambitious Troopers. All rising to attention. Rows upon rows of them, preparing to be seen by me.  

The entire lousy lot. Stuck on a starship, confined to the very tightest of quarters. Where physical contact would be a certainty. I'd, of course, admire their erect postures, locking eyes one at a time, watching the desire flex upon their pupils. All they had to do was take me.  

The rigidity of regulation would fuel the urge to escape into blind, throbbing lust. To stand pinned against an open crate of Nano Cubes--

Food suspended in a nano vortex, taking up approximately four cubic centimeters, capable of rapid generation into a full-sized meal at the press of a button.

It's what Troopers ate, or so said the commercial.  

I'd be there, thrust into the crinkling plastic packaging of so many Nano Cubes. Gasping for breath while taking the pent up angst of Trooper after Trooper behind me, before finally sharing a feast of post-coitus pigeon sandwich.

Who'd steal my attention today? I'd have to let so many down, crush so many boyish fantasies, and--

A breeze slapped me in the face.

"Terrific."

I blew the air out of my mouth in a wet dribble.  

Become the you of tomorrow. Yeah, right, I could barely operate a register, let alone handle a gun. Piloting a spaceship? Please. The closest I had gotten to flying was on auto-pilot and even that ended up in immediate dismissal.

I walked away, but got nowhere. I turned around and a handsome man, a really handsome one, released his grip on my shoulder. He was kind of gorgeous. Older, clean-cut, finely dressed. With a stature that said he could take me away and solve all my problems.  

This is what you will do and you will thank me for it.  

As if drawn by magnets our crotches inched toward each other.

"Think you got what it takes, miss?" This man was grinning.  

Sometimes, direct interactions just made me flustered. Respond you dumb bitch. But all that came out was "Uhhhhh." The stranger noticed me squirm, liked it probably, the corner of his mouth creased to a sharp edge.

"Well. I saw you admiring our poster, and it got me thinking."  

The man paused to place his foot on the cement parapet. I noticed his crotch. I tried not to notice, but I stared at it for a second or two....

"Sorry," I interjected, "but I really need--"

"This is a girl who could use my company." 

I don't think he heard me. All the creases of his dark grey pants bunched up around his swollen bulge... just like the poster. I did my best to snap out of it, averting my eyes.  

"I have somewhere--" 

He took me by the hand or maybe the wrist, I can't quite remember. Either way, he was forceful. I didn't like that.

"Please, come inside, I insist," said the man, gripping me by the waist.

"Hey! Stop it! Now! I have work."

"We all have work." Maybe he did hear me. My boots scraped sidelong the damp pavement, sharpening the rubber heel, he dragged me to the office entrance.

"Hey!"

He ignored me, opened the door and pushed me inside.  

"Allow me to shed light on what the Federation can do for you." 

The office was small and cramped with just enough space for the four sad insipid desks spread throughout the room, atop of which were several neat stacks of pamphlets awaiting a fingering. Three chairs were bunched around each desk, pushed in, unoccupied, and blandly upholstered.  

"All the splendor of the Federation of Galactic Troopers," the man spoke proudly, arms drawn out wide, standing smartly in the center of the room, "and, more importantly, all the opportunity for you is written throughout this office." 

The ceiling and lamp lights were bright yellow, making the metal luster in gold. Stark white posters emboldened in red were tacked to the walls, depicting acts of honor and promos for operational wings of service. From the front door to the back corner they read in sequence.

DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO OPERATE A STARSHIP?

CONTINUE FEDERATION EXCELLENCE, TRAVERSE THE STARS.

BE THE SPACEFARER OF TOMORROW.

DREAMING OF THE FRONTIER? TAKE THE FIRST STEP.

TO THE FOREFRONT, ANYTIME, ANYWHERE THE FEDERATION CALLS.

JOIN THE INFRANTRY.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN SCIENCE? BECOME ONE OF US.

THROUGH TECH, WE SECURE OUR FUTURE.  

THE SYNTHETIC LEGION IS WAITING.  

The man was excited by my notice of the posters.

I gulped. He stared into my eyes, it scared a pool of wet into my panties.

"Many have been just where you are today. Unsure of their future, merely getting by, surviving, but definitely not thriving.... Desperate for direction."

"I'm not desperate--"

He ignored me, "In need of structure and a firm hand." With this he lowered his eyes and paused on that fateful phrase. Firm hand.

I shook my head, forgetting almost entirely to respond, glued to the cheap maroon carpeted floors, straining my eyes to the periphery, judging how quick I could turn for the door--not quick enough, I thought, not even close.

"I can handle myself," I responded, I spoke louder this time in an attempt to sound passably confident, "No firm hand required," I took a step back and let out a single awkward, deflated laugh, "No, Sir, I am good."

"You know," he said, stepping a pace or two closer to me--I could feel the heat emanating from his chest and I swallowed. "I have seen you walk by this office for years. Often in a frantic hurry or seemingly quite lost." He laughed now, too. "Which is odd, I might add, especially for a local. Although, I had always hoped... someday... you'd stop in."

"Really?"

"Yes." The man postured up and glanced down at me. "What is your name, potential Trooper?"

I stammered incoherent puffs.

"Yes, your name?"

"Pip!" It came out as a high-pitched squeak. "Uhmm, Sir."

"That is Second Lieutenant Haltright, Sir, to you!" He retorted.

My face dropped.

"I'm merely playing with you. Officer Haltright, or Haltright, Sir, will do just fine. I'm pleased to have met you, Pip."

"Likewise, Officer Haltright," so hot, "Sir."

"One moment, Pip." He shouted toward the back office, "Private Will-owww!"

A slender, freshly green grunt ran through the back door, produced a stiff salute and clicked his boot heels together. "Officer Haltright, Sir."

"Fetch a beverage for our guest here, Private. Anything she wants."

"No. No, thank you--I mean, I can't stay for long."

Haltright frowned. "Fine. Willow, make my usual."

"Right away, Sir." The private disappeared into the back room.

"Care to have a seat, Pip?" Haltright gestured to the desk in the center of the room.

"I'd rather not."

"I insist. Please, right over here. At my desk. You will sit."

"No, you aren't listening, I wouldn't make much of a--"

"Nonsense," he slipped a pamphlet into my hand, "you will hear me out," and pressed me into a cubelike chair that hugged my ass.

I thumbed through the pages, taking quick glances up at him across the desk. He sat forward, his elbows squared into the wood, his smile erect and alert.

"Look. It says right here: seven-year Federation service contract. Why would I join the Troopers? Why would I want to lose my freedom for seven years?"

Haltright took a long moment. Looked me up and down. He may have noticed my disheveled hair, or the beads of sweat glistening on my skin, sparkling like salty diamonds, he may have even noticed the subtle fraying to my beanie. Whatever he did notice, he softly grunted to himself.

"I wouldn't think of it as losing your freedom, Pip. I'd think of it as gaining security, life experience, and becoming the you of tomorrow."

"That's just the recruitment slogan."

"Pip, what you need to understand," he spoke deeper, "I have been in the service of the Federation for nearly twenty years now and I can tell you most definitively, being a part of the Galactic Troopers is a pleasure and a lifestyle. One I would not trade lightly, mind you. And it must be experienced firsthand to truly know its bounty." He hammered his fist into the desk. "A civilian such as yourself simply cannot fathom it. Besides, would you say that you are living your life now? What control do you have? Are you enjoying yourself or even remotely comfortable?"

Private Willow approached the desk cradling a steaming white mug of coffee. His face made an expression of burnt palms. He sat the coffee down and waited.  

Willow glanced at me, then back at Haltright, while Haltright glanced at me, then to Willow, then back to me, looking pleased, enjoying the tension before taking one simple sip.

"Much improved, Private. Keep the consistency. Dismissed."

"Yes, Sir!" He said. "Thank you, Sir,"

"While you consider things, I should talk to you about the onboarding process. It is fairly straightforward stuff, sign a few forms, set a departure date, and get shuttled to Basic at Camp Bosk. From there based upon aptitude--"

"Camp Bosk?"

"Yes, on terraformed Pluto. Depending on aptitude you'll be assigned to a branch of the FGT, where you'll be given room, board, salary, and a hefty pension... at the conclusion of your service contract. Direct, simple, clean. The galactic way!" He gestured to the ceiling in a final triumphant flourish.

"Galactic. Right."

"It is getting real serious out there. You know... the Federation really does need fresh, plucky candidates like yourself to bolster the ranks. Have you seen what they've been saying about Proxima Centauri B?"

I didn't and replied, "No."

"The miners are on strike. Fed up with the Federation. No production of precious minerals. They aren't going to send anything off-world either. This is a big problem, Pip. Could really change things down here on Earth, even in Raz."

"Well, I don't know anything about that. Who is the Federation to me? How can I work for a cause I hardly understand?"

"Pip. The Federation is like a long-lost relative ready to bestow a life of adventure upon you. Take the leap now, and find the rest along the way." Haltright's eyes twinkled, catching the golden light in such a way, staring into me, penetrating through flesh and bone.

The alarm chimed in my beanie. "I'm sorry, I need to go!" I shot up, stuffed the pamphlet into my pocket, brushed the edge of his desk with my ass, neatly stacked pamphlets flew to the floor. With shorts it would have been butt cheeks squeaking against lacquered wood, exquisite.  

A string of no, no, nos and sorry escaped my mouth.

"I'll be seeing you, Pip." 

Haltright leaned back and gave the old slow salute and I backed out the door.  

"Private Willow! Clean this mess up!"