Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

I can't tell if duBois is my favorite or least favorite teacher. On the one hand, he calls Larry and the Layabouts on their bullshit, and he answers any questions we ask him, although if we get stupid about it he can get stupid right back. On the other hand, he pushes us. Hard. Sister Siobhan probably gets as much practice on Yard days as we do; when injuries are fixed in minutes rather than weeks, there's a lot less reason to be quite so safety conscious, I guess.

No squadball today, so we'd lined up more or less for nothing. Still, better safe than sorry. Once all the stragglers lined up, which to be fair didn't take all that long, duBois started with his barking while he walked through the rows correcting the stances of some of the kids who hadn't caught on yet.

"While the odds that Heroes will engage in formation fighting approaches nil, the odds you'll be tapped to train militia approaches unity. I'll not have anyone trained by me be unable to train others, at least not for lack of knowledge. Before you ask, a formation isn't just a bunch of fighters standing in lines. It's a single entity, and the more you get everyone in the formation acting synchronously, the more they start acting like one. One lone person against a monster, an enemy Hero, or even an enemy troop? They're going to get mowed down, no question. At best they're three hundred pounds of muscle and steel, at worst they're less than that. But get them to work as a single entity? Now you're talking tons of muscle and steel, and even a Dragon is going to have to pay attention if they all charge at once. Do you all understand?"

"Yes sir!" What, we're supposed to say we don't understand when he explains something that bluntly?

"That's why I've got you all getting used to standing in formation, and why in the future we'll train in unit tactics and drill moving in formation. For now, though, I need to get you lot toughened up. Cadet Mac Conno!"

Angel replied, "Yes, sir!"

"You, Rider, Smith, Gardener, and Rogers go set up the obstacle course. Set up five lanes, I'll come around and adjust things when you're done setting up."

"Yes, sir!" Angel shouted before dashing off for one of the sheds.

"Driver!"

"Yes, sir!" said Bill

"You, Lancaster, Diaz, and Rosen go get the weights and stands. Set them up on these four squares," he gestured, and four of the squares lit up, "and get started. Work in pairs, one spotting while the other lifts. Five sets of five, then switch."

"Yes sir!" cried Bill, jogging towards the shed while Rosen and I sprinted ahead.

"The rest of you, start taking laps. If you see somebody fall, check them and help them up. If you fall and can't get up, wait for someone to help you."

Now he raised his voice so the whole Practice Yard echoed, "If you're injured more than a bruise or scrape, get down to your Infirmary. If you die," he smiled, and I now understood the term 'evil grin', "walk it off."

I teamed up with Bill for weight training. I felt a little bad for him; he wasn't bad on the leg press, but when it came to bench presses he struggled just lifting the bar. I talked him through his sets, catching the bar when his arms went out on him. With that little upper body strength, he had problems doing anything more than the bar when it came to squats, until I came up with the brilliant idea of holding the bar while he went through the reps; he managed to get to half his leg press weight with us doing that.

"Cadet, you realize helping Driver will wind up with him not being able to do it on his own, right?"

"Yes, sir, but his problem is his upper body; he can't really balance the bar or get it in position, but he can lift it once I get it there."

Dubois looked less than thrilled, but eventually nodded. "Carry on."

I lost track of how many sets we did; by lunch time Bill struggled to even lift the bar on squats, and he couldn't even do that on the bench. Somewhere in there I got the bright idea to have him use a pair of dumbbells that weighed less than the bar in total. When duBois came by to check on us, he watched Driver go through his sets, looked at me, and nodded before moving on to berate Lancaster for not going down far enough on his squats.

At lunch the ROTC table attacked the food like it shot our dog, not stopping until duBois settled in at the high table to eat his own lunch. We all bolted down whatever we'd started and sprinted back to the Practice Yard.

DuBois stood there waiting for us, looking almost like he'd never left. If I hadn't seen him just appear the other day, I'd swear he had a twin brother or something.

The second half of my day I spent doing endless laps of the obstacle course. The first time duBois caught me going under a hurdle, I thought I was done for.

"Diaz!"

"Sorry, sir!"

"You ought to be. You crawl under an obstacle like that in the field and you're gonna get your ass shot off. I don't care if you go over it, under it, or phase right through it, you need to do it FASTER. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!" I shouted as I slid through the last hurdle and bolted for the next obstacle.

By the end of the day I was too sore and tired to even wonder about what deviltry duBois had ready for tomorrow.