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wouldn’t charge you with a crime if you are in possession of illegal drugs, but this is the Solar Union.  If I catch any of you possessing or using drugs on this base, that person will wish that he had never been born!”
     
    Yolanda swallowed.  Did Martin have anything illicit in his bag?
     
    Bass was still thundering at his cowed audience.  “Insubordination; wilfully disobeying, insulting, or striking a senior officer.  Absent without leave; leaving the base or your unit without permission, or failing to report back to your unit at the end of a leave period without permission.  Fraternisation; sexual relationships with any of your fellow recruits, or senior officers, or anyone within your military unit.  The remainder should require no explaining.  If they do, quit now and save us the paperwork of kicking you out.”
     
    “Female recruits, walk through that hatch,” Bass finished, pointing towards a hatch set in the far wall.  His finger moved to another hatch.  “Male recruits, walk through that hatch.”
     
    “See you soon,” Martin muttered.”
     
    “I hope so,” Yolanda said.  Her head was spinning after Bass’s recital of military crimes.  She wasn't sure she knew what half of them actually meant .  “See you.”
     
    She walked through the hatch and nearly bumped into the back of a line.  A grim-faced woman was standing behind a desk, handing out small piles of clothing and pointing the girls towards benches, where they could change into their uniforms.  Yolanda hesitated – she had never liked changing in front of anyone else, male or female – then realised she had no choice.  Privacy was going to be a thing of the past.  Cursing under her breath, she stripped down to bare skin and then donned the uniform.  It was very simplistic.  The only decoration was a large red numeral – 42.34 – just above her left breast.
     
    “If you want to keep your clothes or anything else you might have brought with you, place them in boxes here,” a female sergeant ordered.  Yolanda took a look at her and had to fight to keep herself from staring in disbelief.  The woman looked like a bad parody of a transvestite, so close to masculine it was hard to be sure she was a woman.  “They will be stored for you until you leave the service or graduate, whichever comes first.”
     
    Yolanda looked down at her bag.  “Everything?”
     
    “If you want to keep it,” the sergeant told her, curtly.  “Anything you don’t want to keep can be dropped in the bins and it will be recycled.  I suggest you dump anything illicit you don’t want us to see.”
     
    “Thank you,” Yolanda said.
     
    “That’s thank you, sergeant ,” the woman corrected.  “You can earn a demerit for forgetting to use the proper terms.”
     
    “Oh,” Yolanda said.
     
    “Hey,” another girl said.  “How do you work off a demerit?”
     
    “Heavy exercise,” the sergeant said, with an evil grin.  “It teaches you respect and helps build up the muscles.  You’ll get used to it soon enough.”
     
    She checked them all, one by one, then smiled.  “This is the last babying you’ll get,” she warned, as she led them towards the hatch.  “In future, if you are told to do something and you don’t do it, you will be allowed to suffer the effects of your screw-up.”
     
    Yolanda smiled as they walked through the door.  Martin was standing with the other men, wearing the same grey uniform.  His numerals were different; 42.41.
     
    “These are your barracks,” Sergeant Bass thundered, as he opened yet another hatch.  Inside, there were three large hatches and a computer terminal, parked against one wall.  “Male recruits to the left, female recruits to the right.  Do not try to enter the wrong barracks unless you have a very good excuse.  The centre compartment” – he jabbed a finger at the third hatch – “is your common room.  Beyond it, there’s an exercise chamber.  You may use it