The Marine

Rolling out of bed while letting out a “SSSTTTRRRREEEETTTCCCHHH” a youngster pulled himself awake.

‘Man, it’s nice to be able to stretch without having to fear muscle cramps’ Bill thought to himself with a laugh.

Bill would be turning ten in a month. That was the date which he would finally have the permission to leave the base and explore the town.

Sitting back down on his bed, Bill looked at his body and thought about the last several months. Firstly, Sasha was still gone. Her trip which should have taken around three months would end up taking twice that long.

Bill had been worried, but according to his father: “They ran into some troublemakers in Centaurea, those brigands didn’t know who they were dealing with, and Captain Zima quickly detained them. Unfortunately for the Captain, the jail cells in Centaurea were in complete disrepair and so he decided to wait for a Marine penal ship.”

As soon as he heard this, Bill asked the obvious question – how was it possible that a Marine base hardly two islands away from a local Headquarters could be in such disrepair that it couldn’t hold some “troublemakers”?

His father then gave him an eye-opening answer, he had said: “Son, the Marines are only able to spare the absolute minimum of resources wherever they are needed. Often times, it is simply impossible for smaller Marine branches to source all the materials they need and so have to make choices on what to cut.

The Captain in Centaurea made a choice, that was, to have his resources sent to the docks, recruitment, and arms. Piracy is punishable by death, and that’s how they were dealt with.”

Thinking about the implications of such a policy, primarily being, who would surrender just to be summarily executed?  Bill asked a more technical question: “If that base already had its policy set, why was Captain Zima able to hold those men imprisoned?”

With a shift of his head Aramaki had replied: “If Captain Tale had ordered it, those wrongdoers would have been executed. I suspect he valued having Zima there more than he valued the food those prisoners would eat.”

Thinking back to this logic, and what Bill came to learn from his days visiting Headquarters, he had discovered that the Marines gave a lot of executive freedom to its commanders. It was a lot like the Imperial Japanese military.

Except, whereas the Imperial Japanese command would do extreme things in the name of the ‘nation’, Marine command would act out of ‘justice’. The concept of justice in the Marines was an interesting topic but would have to wait for another day.

As Bill got off his bed, he flipped over a ten-minute hourglass and got in the plank position.

This was the reward Bill had gotten from Captain Trapano after finishing his six-months of workouts.

The overweight Captain had been genuinely impressed by Bills dedication.  He had said that although the deal was that Bill could use the gym if he didn’t see any improvement, he still wouldn’t mention anything to the Commodore if Bill used the facilities.

But then, before walking away he said if Bill really wanted true strength, he could tell him what he needed to do.

Although his last instructions could be said to be somewhat basic, Bill couldn’t deny results and so readily agreed.

That was the first time Bill had heard the term ‘Meditative Pushup”. Had he still been on Earth, he would have said that the fat captain was selling hocus-pocus, because the way to get ‘true strength’ according to Captain Trapano was to do one pushup in ten minutes.

Despite his preconceptions, five months later, Bill was emulating what he had been told on that day.

Trapano: “Now look kid, when you enter the plank position, I want you to tighten your abs slowly, as you do so, I want you to really focus what is going on inside of you. Try to feel your muscles slowly tighten, try to feel the blood as it comes from the heart to the belly.

As your abs tighten, put the pressure of your weight on the outside of your hands. Feel the weight of your body shift from your wrists to the sides of your hand. Again, carefully focus on the exact sensations within your body.

Keep your hips and torso straight, as you get more comfortable in this motion, I want you to realize how your body is interconnected. When you are ready to slowly go down, feel how your abs, chest, hips, and wrists are all minutely adjusting to what your actions are doing.

Go slow and really focus on yourself, on every part of yourself. When you can do that, you will gain true strength”.

After he had been given this lesson, the Captain pulled out an mechanical ten-minute hourglass which would ‘ding’ when the sand stopped. He told Bill to come back when he didn’t need the hourglass anymore.

Bill didn’t know why he wouldn’t need the hourglass, since that ten-minute mark didn’t seem to be a random number. It would take about ten minutes for his body to start to shake, forcing him to stop in order to prevent any injuries.

Slowly inching his way down, Bill continued to try and sense the inner workings of his body. The process of falling was more informative that the way up. At least, it was easier to feel loose muscles slowly tighten than it was to feel anything other than soreness after several minutes in the plank position.

Despite only doing two ten-minute Meditative Pushups a day, over these several months Bill had gotten a much better picture of his body. Although he couldn’t feel his blood move, if that was even possible. He could clearly sense the interlacing between his muscles and bones.

While Bill had never been clumsy, he didn’t think falling over was possible now. Another thing he found was simply that he moved better. Now when he swum, he didn’t need to kick up huge amounts of water, it was like he knew where to move his hands and body for the strongest stroke.

With a ‘ding’ his ten-minutes were over, getting up he rubbed his arms willing the fatigue away.

After a few more minutes of getting himself ready, Bill left the room smelling breakfast.

After years of renovation work done, the hospital apartment now looked like any regular home. Complete with three bedrooms, a den, a kitchen, bathroom, and an office which held a Communication Snail.

Communication Snails were fascinating to Bill, these were ‘normal’ snails in the wild, but they communicated their intentions through thought waves. Those thought waves could be harnessed by a transponder which allowed these snails to mimic radios.

However, the snails were even more useful than radios since they didn’t seem to have any need for power amplification. As long as the correct code was known, it was possible to speak to anyone across the world in real time with no form of communication infrastructure.

‘Yep, whoever figured that out was a real genius’ Bill thought as he walked to the kitchen table.

Climbing up in his chair Bill greeted his mom and nanny.

Bill: “Good morning, did dad already leave for work?”

This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, after all, his father was in charge of a massive area and there was something always happening somewhere.

As she poured food on each plate Ms. Angie answered: “The Commodore had important business, but he should be here for dinner.”

Bill: “Oh, does it have to do with anything around here?”

Shaking her head this time it was his mothers turn to speak: “No one in their right mind would cause direct trouble for this base. Karate Island is having a tournament and because of local incompetence it falls to us to protect tourists.”

Nodding his head in affirmation Bill started to eat. By now he was used to his mother’s laconic form of speech. Although the woman still had down time and according to his father wouldn’t be commanding ships again, her personality had really done a great turnaround.

To that Ms. Angie quipped: “With Aramaki and Dina Ox here, few would try anything.”

Nodding his head again Bill finished his plate and reached for seconds, compared to his time on Earth he ate a huge amount of food now.  

It wasn’t just Bill; his father would eat a pile of food literally as big as himself. When Bill asked how it was possible, all he got for an answer was “when you’re hungry, eat!”

After finishing his second plate Bill picked over a small amount of his favorite food. Once he had his fill, he grabbed his plate and got up.

Dina: “William.”

Turning around to her call he replied: “Yes mom?”

As she spoke her smile grew: “After more discussion we decided that you can start going into town. The same curfew rules apply.”

Caught off guard by this, Bill showed his physical age: “Really?! Great!”

After nearly three years Bill knew the base like the back of his hand. Although he had never been greatly inconvenienced by not being allowed to leave, having the option to walk into town would be great fun.

Interrupting his thought Ms. Angie added: “When you want to go in town take the officer lift. Do you remember the way?”

Shaking his head affirmatively, Bill asked: “Can I go now?”

With a nod his mother replied: “Yes.”

And like that Bill left the apartment.

The shape of the base was wide open towards the sea with the dock and shipyards covering a massive area. Towards land however, there was only a relatively small entrance way. The corridor was far too small to have giants or freight moved through and was probably only there to give the Marines a ‘back door’ to use.

Heading to the officer lift bill pressed the ground level, and it wasn’t long before he was in new territory.

The town was medium-sized, Bill couldn’t be sure of its population but figured no more than ten thousand. These people pretty much all made their incomes around the cutting and processing the Super Rainbow Eucalyptus Tree, the tree species native to Vallipo Islands.

As such, this town had the look of an old wooden town with sawmills, stores of dry-goods, stalls, barbers, and saloons everywhere you turned.

While he was interested in the Rainbow Trees, these sawmills were privately owned, so Bill didn’t venture in too deep.

Instead, he walked around for the better part of an hour inspecting stores and street vendors. If anyone noticed him, there was no indication of it, until - ?: “Freeze!”

Turning around to a freckled ten-something year old boy wearing a white cowboy hat, chaps, and a vest with a large [Junior Deputy] badge, Bill replied with an amused: “Yes?”

?: “Where are you from? We have a suspect fitting your description!”

Looking the kid over, Bill couldn’t help but to feel nostalgia. After all, he grew up in the early 1950’s in America, when he was a boy, he was a huge fan of the Wild West.

In fact, this kid’s outfit was something that he may also have proudly worn.

With these thoughts running through his head, Bill answered: “I’m sorry? Can I help you deputy?”

Apparently not expecting this kind of answer, the kid stopped for a split second for continuing more energetically: “Maybe’s you can, maybe’s you cain’t. See here...” as the kid spoke, he begun to swing a large set of handcuff keys on his finger: “I’ve been hunting down the bounty on a fruit thief for days. As soon’z as I think I found z’em I stumble across a person I aint never seen before.

And as no one has ever seen this fruit ninja, and as no one’z ever seen you, I’m suspecting you fit the description just right.”

Finding the boy instantly to his liking, Bill fought hard not to laugh, instead he played along saying: “Well deputy, you can’t just go throwing around accusations like that. What if I’m innocent? With your reputation as a fair lawman, you have to have some evidence to back up such a claim.

I mean, look at my cloths, do I look like a er… ninja to you?”

Looking as if he was digesting Bills words the boy then replied quietly: “The Fruit Ninja would be good at disguise, all my years as a lawman are telling me this…”

Still swirling the keys in one hand with the other on his belt the boy continued, but now in a louder voice: “I’z guessin’ as a fair lawman I’z ought to give you a chance.

I figure there’s but one way for you to clear your name, I’ll make you a junior deputy to help solve the case. No innocent straight-back man would let a thief go about, would he?” the boy looked expectingly to Bill.

Thinking that it may be some fun to play as a cowboy Bill asked: “Alright, but if I’m a junior deputy, who’s my superior?”

After he heard Bills answer, the boy leaned slightly forward, pushed his thumb to his chest and said with a wide smile: “Ranse McGrew, junior greatest lawman the sea’s ever seen!”