Manifest Destiny Chapter 1: Enlist!

	"Our Destiny. Manifest Destiny!" These words reverberated through his mind as he drew his hood tighter around his face, navigating the chilly night streets. Each exhale formed wisps in the air, a visible reminder of the biting cold that urged him homeward, seeking refuge from the relentless wind.

	"Enlist Now!" He hadn't yet. People were starting to look his way, starting to think of him as a coward. The fact that he hadn't even entered into Caretaking service meant that he had no place yet. Twenty-two and not a member of the glorious Star Legion spreading freedom and liberty throughout the galaxies? Not putting his time into the Mega Schools to take care of the children whose parents have already enlisted? Was he to waste his entire life not contributing to glorious democracy?

	These questions swirled in his head, questions that were keeping him up at night. His brother had no problem enlisting. His brother had enlisted right out of graduation day, the moment he stepped foot out of the Mega School he knew he wanted to be a soldier. Just like their parents. Unfortunately, unlike their parents, his brother would meet his end in the horrible jaws of the inserannid on the planet Ardonia just two years later. Still, his brother had given his life spreading liberty, Ardonia was freed from the oppressive hive. His father couldn't have been more proud.

	This pride did not extend to Varus, however. As he opened the front door to his Econo-Hab he turned to check his mail. The screen of his Comm-Caster illuminated the dark room as he sat on his bed, the screen rotating to follow him like the spying eye of a camera. As it cast its hazy illumination over his face he read down the list. "Glorious victory on Harden III!" "New McCrispy Synthburger recipe!", but most importantly was the daily mail - "Enlist today!"

	Varus stood up, his gaunt frame casting a lean shadow on the wall behind him. Though he was tall, he weighed nearly nothing. Even if he were to enlist, he would need to be somewhat modified. He figured the Gene Sculptors had something for him. After all, his brother had been much more doughy before joining the Star Legion and certainly was not by the time he was deployed. The slight genetic modification was commonplace among those enlisted, though nothing like the intensely modified super-soldiers that were the Omega. Still, as he turned to his side to examine himself in the glossy sheen of his message screen, he certainly though adding a few pounds on wouldn't hurt.

	"Enlist today!". Those words were echoed everywhere. Plastered n the walls and billboards of every building and street he walked. Parroted by newsanchors from the Ministry of Truth and actors in their movies. The games he played, the food he ate, the music he listened to. All of it told him what he knew, he was wasting his life. At 22 his father, Hadar Demalius, had already lifted a flag on Calibar II, freeing it from the sticky and slimy tentacles of the granseptimal who falsely declared it theirs to oppress. At 22 his brother, Aureleon, was dead. He opened a can of Freedom Cola and set his plasoven to cook yet another Liberty Brand synthsteak. They were cheap and, without a paycheck from the Caretakers or the military to rely on, all he could afford. Hell, he wasn't even making as much as an Industrial Hero, working as a food clerk for McCrispy's. He didn't even really know what the synthmeat was made out of, turning the package over to see if it happened to list the ingredients on its back. It did not.

	"Join the Fight Today!" stared back at him. The art of several Omega ripping through a swarm of oruk. One clutched the flag of Earth Prime, staring back at Varus and pointing at him. Accusing him. Coward. Varus shook his head, but he knew it was partly true. His brother had died at 22. His father lost both of his legs and was forced into the Industrial Heroes to feed the war machine of the Republic after his cybernetic legs rejected him. His mother? He hadn't ever met her. His father claimed she was still alive, but he wasn't so sure. So what hope did Varus have? All of his friends had joined the Star Legions, but he had stayed home. He hadn't heard from his friends in the years since. They were either dead or, as Varus feared even more, they hated him for his failure.

	"For Freedom! For Justice! For Democracy! For Earth Prime!" his Comm-Caster blurted out as it sprung to life. It was 9 p.m., time for the Ministry Update. He groaned and dutifully listened, he might have been a coward but he was no traitor. The Ministry of Compliance would never knock at his door for something like missing an Update. It was nothing that very much concerned him. The loss of planet Uralon, the successful defense of planet Layton IV, all of these were so far from him it didn't really ever seem to affect him. No, Varus sat in the Medecean System on the planet Bravus, far from the frontline of any war. Outside of the small cult of a Hellspawn here or there the Medecean System really rarely suffered. In fact, in his entire life only the planet Endellon fell in the star system to a scourge of kerumin scum, and it was reclaimed within three years. Thus, Varus never felt spurned into action. But guilt, guilt was always there.

	Varus sighed as the Update ended and his Comm-Caster powered down, once again enveloped with the darkness of his Econo-Hab. The sound of the bustling Hab City only slightly muted by the thin walls. He thought of his once dear friend Alder. Alder was so excited to join the Star Legions. Brimming with pride, telling him he was going to be assigned to the Amethyst Spiders. Varus hadn't heard of the Spiders, but Alder told him they were an honorable legion known to have liberated several dozen planets. He wondered if Alder was still alive. Was he spreading democracy out there in the stars? Or was he dead, reduced to a name etched on a Wall of Heroes like his brother. Varus had no idea, and he assumed Alder would never care to let him know. Not unless he enlisted.

	Varus was certain that he would be rejected anyway. Then he could be assigned to the Industrial Heroes and not need to worry about any of that stuff. Was he convinced this was the case? Not really. It was more his own desires attempting to be made manifest. Maybe he could enlist and not be made to fight. To die. He knew the Senate would have a place for him, it had a place for all those in the Republic of Man, so long as they would seek to contribute to the glorious perseverance of liberty.

	"Coward!" The Omega on the back of his Liberty Brand synthsteak package yelled, cutting through the quiet darkness like a knife. He shook his head no, but the artist's rendition of the super-soldier was right and he knew that deep down. Though he quickly threw the package into his super-disposal and dismissed the genespliced hero to the grinding jaws of the trash processor within he was too late to avoid the blow to his ego. Now, Varus wasn't insane, he knew this was all in his mind, but vivid imagination or not it rang true and it cut deep.

	"Our destiny. Manifest Destiny!" echoed once again in his mind. Varus never entirely understood the full sentiment behind this message. It had whipped many he knew into a fervent frenzy that foamed at the mouth to spread the justice of the Republic far and wide, but for him it just felt mundane. Why should Varus care about what happens on some desolate gas giant planet or uninhabitable ice planet a dozen star systems away? If a fortress planet or a industrial planet fell he knew the military would prioritize it. As for a hab planet sure, he could feel bad that billions of lives would be lost. But these things happen. The Republic has always managed to recover from seemingly any blow, and to him it remained invincible. He would never say this out loud of course, the Ministry of Compliance would have a field day, but he often thought perhaps the Republic didn't need to expand. Perhaps the humans in the Dominion of Truth or the Free System Collective, or even the Myranid Dynasty did not need to be brought into the folds of democracy. He chuckled to himself, such a thought was grounds for execution. But none would ever know he thought them.

	This rebellious streak of his began in Mega School, toward the end of his learning there. Graduation day loomed and he recalled a sweeping protest suddenly sparking up in the city. Several dozen men and women called for an increase in rations, claiming that the recent cutting of them due to the war in the neighboring Felglastanian System had resulted in a bit of a shortage was a fallacy and that the food was being redirected on behalf of Consul Gaines, one of the four thousand men and women who made up the highest level of the Senate. He remembered the Ministry of Compliance and the Ministry of Security swarmed the protesters, beating them into a bloody mess. But as they were loaded into the heavily armored vehicles of the Security Force to be taken democracy knows where he saw one smile and say "If this is how you treat us when we starve I would hate to see how you treat us when we fight back". Varus never thought anyone could speak to a member of the ministries like that, he always thought the Senate to be untouchable. But in that moment he felt a twinge of something. Power. Though, perhaps fittingly, he was surely too cowardly to ever act on such impulse. Those protesters were likely killed or worse, delivered to forced labor. But despite this, despite this rebelliousness, he still felt guilt.

	It was the duality of his own person, his desire for something more and his duty to the Republic that his family had instilled within him. That was the true constant battle that raged in his mind, seeking to plant their flag within his psyche. But both sides were always beaten back by a single element that constantly dashed their hopes of ever truly committing him to one life path.

	 "Coward!" screamed his Earth Prime themed clock as it struck 11 p.m. He had been sitting in the darkness for over two hours deep in thought. He yawned, knowing he had to be at work for another daily 11 hours tomorrow. Or did he?

	"Enlist now!" read the screen of his Comm-Caster. He felt a chill run down his spine as his hand lifted, shakily approaching the button. The battle in his mind surged, a raging whirlwind of emotion and doubt, guilt and reason, duty and rebellion. He felt time move slow, the ticking of his clock thumping on like the meat hammer slamming down into the synthmeat at McCrispy's.

	"Are you ready to join the fight and spread democracy to all soldier?" his screen asked.

	"Yes" whispered Varus as he pressed the button. But he didn't entirely believe it.