The West Sea

Chapter 3: First (Part 2)

Lieutenant de Sol paced the room slowly while glaring at each obviously terrified trainees as he dictated his thoughts with intensity and command.

"Listen up, recruits! Anything you do to disrupt the harmony I've built will be met with swift and justly retribution. This young man here, who I assume you have mocked and goaded into taking the first bed, has failed to give up a name and therefore needs to be dealt with that swift retribution I have formerly mentioned. Armando Bruno here will be cleaning the barrack's lavatory each and every night after training for two weeks. And that is the end of it."

The Lieutenants stopped and stood in front of the entrance, his arms tucked behind as his stood firmly overlooking his recruits.

"My name is Lieutenant Andreus de Sol. For the next three months your insignificant lives belong to me. You are my recruits. You are my property. I will train you to become a weapon for the West Sea. I will break you down, mold you, and break you down again until you are fit to serve and protect our nation. If you survive this training, you will become gods of the seas, you will become more powerful than your adversaries. I will forge you until every shred of your being is powdered down to dust and from its ashes will rise a glorious titan among feeble men. But until that day you are mine and you are nothing. No matter where you came from, the Academy or the slums, you are all equally worthless until you prove otherwise. This is the day that you'll remember for the rest of your lives. You will train hard and I will drill you harder! You might not like how I do things and I don't care. You are here to to serve and I will make you worthy to be given that honor. Do you understand?!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" The barracks cried in unison.

"Now clean yourselves up and head on over to the landing bay for quick unannounced training exercise, to celebrate your camaraderie . Dismissed!"

All eyes were on Arman once again. This time, they were all filled with contempt as they suited up and carried out the officer's orders who walked out in haste. Arman, alone in his corner of the barracks, was approached by a young woman; tall, a bit lanky, with long blonde hair.

"Hey, you dropped this," said the girl as she hands Arman with his luggage from the trash bin. "You can keep these you know, just store them in the box here at the foot of your bed."

"Thanks," Arman replied. "My name is..."

"Arman, right? Yeah. We all heard the Lieutenant. Hey, thanks for not ratting us out. I guess you are a team player after all. I'm Dara, by the way. Dara Palilia."

"It's no problem. I was late and I had it coming."

"Why were you late? And why did they still let you in? Are you someone's kid or something?"

"No, nothing like that, I mean, I really don't know. All I know is, Officer de Sol gave me a second chance and I'd rather take the time figuring how to make the most out of it rather than mulling over the reason I'm here."

"Fair enough." Dara then looked around the room, most of the platoon's members have already gone, but some who were left, including Marcus and his buddies, were still there horsing around like they were back in the Academy.

"Forget about Marcus. He's a good guy but sometimes he can be a bit of an asshole when it comes to other recruits just because he's 'legacy'." Dara's air quotes left Arman a bit confused.

"What's that?" Arman asked.

"Marcus Sakai is the son of a West Sea Captain, who was the son of another sea captain, and so on and so forth. You know, legacy."

"Ah," exclaimed Arman who noticed Marcus and his two friends slowly approaching him and Dara.

"Well now, what do we have here?" Marcus wore a boastful smirk as he walked towards the two of them. "I didn't know you were into stray dogs, Dara."

Marcus' buddies started laughing in the background like wild hyenas.

"Cut the crap, Marcus. You had your fun. He didn't even turn you in, so now just leave him alone," demanded Dara.

"I'm just getting started." He then stared directly at Arman and resumed his verbal abuse.

"You don't belong here, dog. You might think you're one of us because you won some stupid lottery but that doesn't mean shit if you're going to pull back this platoon, do you understand? Don't want any of the other platoons to know some gutter mutt decided to think he's one of us and smear my legacy. Nobody's going to hold your hand here and tell you everything's okay. So why don't you just quit now and head on back to whatever scum life you had and be on your way, because the truth is, none of us want you here. Not me, not the Lieutenant, and certainly not the Division. You got it?"

Marcus, who seemed satisfied with his passionate speech, turned around and left the barracks with his two friends. Dara looked at Arman's reaction, which was stoic at best. Arman felt nothing with what Marcus said. With what anyone said for that matter. He had spent years being berated with all kinds of words during his old life in the tenements that he had developed a sense of indifference with what a person is saying.

Arman had a saying "Words can't hurt the deaf." For some reason, Dara knew Arman was fine with what Marcus had just said, as she could see a hint of smile on him as he finished arranging his locker box.

"Don't mind him, he'll come around. Time to go," Dara said as she started to walk towards the exit.

"Alright," Arman agreed as they walked out of the barracks together towards the landing bay, the open area near the docking platforms that housed the Division's fleet of modern submersibles.

Arman Bruno and Dara Palilia entered the massive loading bay of the Aseatic Defense Division and was met with rows upon rows of mechanical submersibles from all classes; from a two-crew Valiente type submarine to a Division class hundred capacity Agila type. All submersibles in-line along the special docking port for Amanium refills and maintenance. To their surprise, everyone on the loading floor, the mechanics, aquanauts, and even the officers, had stopped what they were doing and was looking at the sunset.

Both Arman and Dara decided to see what was going on. With a hardened look, they saw why everyone stopped. Across the sea, just at the blurring edges between the sky and the brilliant waters was the Mulawin, a two thousand foot behemoth warship on route to the West Sea territories.

As if by chance, the Mulawin blared its horn, like a farewell siren to the people at the docks, signalling the beginning of its voyage. Arman had never felt that he was a part of something bigger, that somehow his life mattered, but he had a glimpse of what was possible. From then on, Arman had burned the image to his memory, making sure that someday he'll be someone worthy of navigating the treacherous, most contested sea in the planet: The West Sea.

***Thank you for taking the time to read my work. It would really mean a lot if you could leave some comments as I would like to hear what you have to say about the chapter. You can also vote and share this to your friends and help spread the story of The West Sea.***