She proceeded down the Way, watching carefully. She didn’t want to miss-

But that proved to be a needless worry, because there is was; she could never have missed it in a million years.

The Base.

It was even more impressive (and, yes, grim..) than she had imagined.

She swallowed, then squared her shoulders and marched up to the Gate. There was a Button, and she pushed it. An alarm buzzed.

After a long moment, a Guard appeared on the other side of the Gate. She eyed Paige with cool professional mistrust. Paige, hopefully hiding her nervousness, gave the first Password and then presented her Credentials. The Guard examined the latter items in minute detail, then examined Paige’s face again. Finally, she was forced to admit that everything appeared to be in order. This admission came in the form of her opening the Gate. Paige stepped inside, now trying to hide the small surge of triumph. Maintaining her silence, the Guard carefully closed the Gate and confirmed it was locked. She then produced a Visitor’s Pass, clipped it in place and then indicated where Paige should proceed. Paige gave a nod, and marched off down the hallway. She passed by a common area, where a squad of Soldiers was.. doing their morning exercises, she guessed.

If it was morning; she looked at her wrist and realized she had forgotten her watch along with her sunglasses.

She marched on down the hallway.

And finally, all too soon, there was the second Guard, even colder and deadlier than the first; she towered a whole head over Paige. Paige made no effort this time to hide her nerves as she presented the second Password and again displayed her Credentials. The examination was even more thorough and meticulous, from all angles. The Base was well air-conditioned, and Paige felt a little goose-pimply.

Finally, an even more grudging approval, and the second Guard gave two brisk taps at the nearby door.

“Enter.”

That voice..

The second Guard opened the door, and half-pushed Paige inside.

An office. A clock ticking in the corner. A desk. No, a Desk, the Desk, with in and out boxes, a pen-holder, a fancy metal desk-lamp, and..

And seated behind the Desk, reading some sort of Report...

The General. Himself. Paige hadn’t thought for a moment that.. in person.. she couldn’t do anything but stare for a moment. Why had no one warned her? She of course knew how important the General was, but she had had no idea. The raw sexual magnetism pouring off the man..

The door snapped shut behind her.

Pull yourself together! Try and act like a professional!

She marched across the room. Took up her position in front of the Desk. Snapped a salute.

“Sir! Private Fourth Class Paige Pailthorpe reporting for duty, Sir!”

The General eyed her stonily. She quailed, just barely able to hold herself at attention. What had she done?

Finally he spoke, the voice of doom..

“You’re out of uniform, Private.”

She looked down at herself, and somehow bit off the scream of horror. Of course he was right. What the hell had she been thinking?

“S-sir! Permission to.. to..”

“Granted.” He waved a mildly annoyed hand and went back to reading the Report. She looked around frantically, and, yes, thank God, there was an approved Receptacle standing in the corner. She wanted to run to it, but she forced herself to right-face, march there at the proper steady speed, hands pinned against her sides. Arriving, again, she wanted to rip off the offending garments, but all too well, she knew the proper Procedure.

It had been drilled into her.

Lift the lid.

Place her purse in the proper compartment of the Receptacle. Take off all jewelry. She only had the earrings. She removed them. Place them in the proper compartment of the Receptacle. Remove all adornments and constraints from hair. She removed the scrunchie, let her light brown hair spill its curly way down her back. Place the scrunchie in the proper compartment of the Receptacle. If she shoes had laces, untie them. Take them off. Place them in the proper compartment of the Receptacle. Remove the socks and/or pantyhose. Fold them up. Place them on top of the shoes in the proper compartment of the Receptacle. Remove the blouse. Fold it up. Place it on top of the socks in the proper compartment of the Receptacle. Remove slacks or jeans or dress. Jeans. Fold them up. Place them on top of the blouse in the proper compartment of the Receptacle.

Close the lid.

She pushed her hair back into shape. She then ran a visual inspection of herself. Uniform. Visitor’s Pass still clipped around her neck. Yes. Everything now appeared to be in order. About face. March back to the Desk. Right face. Assume her position. Snap a salute.

“Sir! Private Fourth Class Paige Pailthorpe reporting for duty, Sir!”

The clock ticked.

The General finished reading the Report. He then made a quick decisive scribble at the bottom, placed the sheet in the out box and inserted the pen into the holder. He reached across and touched at Something on the desk which started to make a Noise. Only then did he turn his iron gaze fully in Paige’s direction. Her knees trembled. The Noise was sawing at her brain.

“So. Private.. what was it again?”

“Sir! Private Fourth Class Paige Pailthorpe, Sir!” Just to be safe, she saluted again.

“Just came in on the Transport, did you?”

“Sir! Yes, Sir!”

“And you feel you have what it takes to serve here at the Base?”

“Sir..!” Paige had no choice but to tell the truth. “No, Sir!”

Behind the glasses, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Explain yourself, Private.”

“Sir! No one is truly worthy to serve here under your command, Sir!”

“Hm. Are you questioning the competence of your Recruiter?”

“Sir?”

For a moment, Paige had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

“She must have seen something worthwhile in you.”

The Noise sawed at her more, and she remembered. Not a name, or a face, but a smiling, happy, woman...

showing her Something..

She tried to pull herself even further to attention.

“Sir! I will strive in every moment to justify my Recruiter’s faith in my abilities, Sir!”

“Very well. Who was your Recruiter, by the way?”

Brown skin.. shiny black hair..

“Sir! I am afraid I don’t remember, Sir!”

“I order you to remember the name of your Recruiter, Private.”

The name popped into her head and out of her mouth.

“Sir! Private Second Class Maria Martinez, Sir!”

“Ah, yes. Private Martinez. A diligent and enthusiastic soldier. And you?”

“Sir?”

“Are you... diligent and enthusiastic?”

Sawing deeper and deeper..

“Sir! I am a good little Soldier, Sir!”

“And what are the traits of a good little Soldier?”

“Sir! A good little Soldier obeys the Orders of her commanding officer, Sir!”

“And the limits on those orders?”

“Sir! No limits, Sir! She obeys without hesitation, without fear or pride or moral qualm, Sir!”

“Who is your commanding officer?”

“Sir! I have been Recruited! You are my commanding officer, Sir!”

“Well then, soldier. I suppose I had better put you to work.”

“Sir! Yes, Sir!”

“Come here.”

“Sir! Yes, Sir!”

Salute. Left face. March to the corner of the Desk. Right face. March to the corner of the Desk. Right face. March to the General.

Kneel down.

Hold absolutely still while he removed her Visitor Pass, and replaced it with her Insignia.

While he touched her.

He turned all the way around in his chair.

“You can start with cleaning detail, Private Pailthorpe.”

“Sir! Yes, Sir!”

She bent over his sneakers?

A slashing split second.. A rather tackylittlestudy in a house on a suburbanstreet. Above the sublimnalbuzz, a citybus could be heard goingby. A ditz in herunderwear. Kneeling at the feet of a scrawnylittlewierdo. About to LICKHISSNEAK

The Sound sawed deeper into Private Pailthorpe’s mind.

She was a good little soldier.

She obeyed her Orders.

She bent over the General’s Boots and began her cleaning detail.