《Remembrance》 Remembrance, Chapter 1 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Wednesday, 13th of September, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ---Central Algeria--- ¡°So, Mr Nasri¡­ would you tell us about where the water comes from to irrigate these crops?¡± asks Ms Larch, a plump little half Denisovan woman with straight, dark hair and a limp that disqualified her from service. She is a strong contender for the most boring woman alive¡­ and is also my teacher. ¡°Of course¡­¡± smiles the tall, genial Amazigh man, in fluent (if heavily accented) standard English (as he can¡¯t speak or understand Lallans Scots¡­ which is fairly typical), gesturing at the fields around us ¡°¡­the water comes from pipes, laid under the Mediterranean sea and Atlantic Ocean where they extend hundreds of kilometres off shore. It comes here, to the Sahara Agricultural Band, and we use it to produce 45% of all Terra¡¯s food!¡± ¡°And¡­ could you tell us, why do the pipes need to be so long? Couldn¡¯t the water just be collected at the coast?¡± asks the teacher, acting like she doesn¡¯t already know. The man smiles and laughs ¡°Of course!¡­ Mechanically, there wouldn¡¯t be any problem with that! Ecologically, on the other hand, the problem would be that, with the enormous quantity of fresh water we need, we would be creating a huge plume of brine that would make the area around the collection point quite inhospitable to marine life¡­ The desalination happens at the source, with only fresh water being let into the pipes and the salt being left in the ocean. The length of the pipes is necessary to¡­ erm¡­ what is the English word?¡­*snap* diffuse oversalinated water across a wide enough area not to be toxic to the marine ecosystem¡­ Causing damage of that kind would be harmful to maintaining the habitability of our planet¡­¡± ¡°Fascinating, fascinating¡­¡± simpers Larch, seeming like she might have a bit of a crush on the agricultural engineer ¡°¡­and, Mr Nasri¡­?¡± ¡°Please, call me Hassan!¡± smiles the good looking man. ¡°Well¡­ err¡­ Hassan, would you tell us a little about the role the Green Sahara played in the Reset?¡± ¡°I¡¯d be honoured to!¡± he says, swelling with pride and turning to the class ¡°You see, children¡­ err¡­ I mean¡­ young ladies and gentlemen¡­¡± he corrects, obviously realising how ridiculous it is to refer to people almost old enough to serve as ¡®children¡¯! He clears his throat and continues on his (obviously) heavily rehearsed spiel ¡°¡­nearly a thousand years ago, back before the resurrecting of Homo Tshwane, Homo Longi, Homo Denisova or even Homo Neanderthalensis and before the creation of any uplifted or artificial sapients, when Homo sapiens were the only intelligent species living on Earth, our society experience the Industrial Revolution¡­ which was a great thing for our technology and quality of life (generally) but not so great a thing for our planet!¡­ By the late 21st Century, we were about to have a total collapse of Earth¡¯s entire ecology!¡­ It was at that time that Humanity United¡­ Coming together to work to a solution to our dying world, we embarked on a grand project to terraform our own planet. This is known as the ¡®Reset¡¯¡­ It took hundreds of years for us to fully undo the damage that had been done and the techniques we developed, here, were what allowed us to settle other planets so easily¡­ The Green Sahara played three vital roles in preserving both our planet and our species: The first thing it did, was produce higher cloud cover, with the increased evaporation and transpiration happening here raising the planet¡¯s overall humidity¡­ This might not sound like much but, because the main problem we were facing was our planet¡¯s increasing temperature, it helped in short term by increasing the albedo (the amount of light our planet reflects back into space). This bought us the precious time we needed to develop the technology that would rescue us from the calamity we had caused!¡­ In medium to long term it made rebuilding the lost ice cover much easier by¡­¡± Not really having the patience to listen (for the millionth time) to the story about how great we are for sorting out our own fuck ups, I lean in to Tommie and mutter ¡°So it¡¯s these guys¡¯ fault that Stranraer is wetter than an otter¡¯s pocket(!)¡± Her whiskers swish up and down as she giggles at the joke. ¡°Is it just me or are you absolutely sweating your tits off out here too?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ a little hot.¡± she breathes, hesitantly. ¡°I¡¯ll bet! All that fur, you must be sweltering!... Is it¡­?¡± ¡°Ms Reid!¡± comes an angry voice. ¡°Yes, Ms Larch?¡± I respond, innocently. ¡°Is it too much to ask that you pay attention while Hassan here is giving up his time to educate us about the history of his region?¡± ¡°No¡­ Ms Larch¡­¡± I respond, abashed. The rest of the class have a hearty giggle at my public shaming. ---later--- ---Southwestern Scotland--- ¡°The bitch has got it out for me!¡­ Just ¡¯cause she thinks I¡¯m a ¡®disruptive student¡¯!¡± I grizzle, as I try and fail to skip a stone across the water toward the Man Peninsula, visible on the south horizon. ¡°You are a disruptive student, Mimi¡­¡± says Tommie from behind me. I turn to stare daggers at her but find that she¡¯s looking at her holopad. ¡°What¡¯s the point in coming out here to nature if you¡¯re just gonna stare at your screen the whole time, Tommie?!¡± I challenge. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°It¡¯s called homework, Esme(!) Not that you¡¯d know anything about that(!)¡± she shoots back, coolly. I scowl and turn back to the water. ¡°I just don¡¯t really see the point of learning all this shit about history and ecology when I¡¯m gonna be drafted soon!¡± ¡°You really want to come home with zero useful skills? Historically, it hasn¡¯t ended well when societies have allowed there to be large numbers of unemployed people whose only talents are those related to killing folk¡­(!)¡± ¡°Easy for you to say¡­ You get to stay here and raise an adorable little litter of kitten-puppy abominations-against-nature with Rex(!)¡± I tease. ¡°Actually¡­ Mimi¡­¡± she starts, her tone serious. I turn behind me, my eyes wide with disbelief. ¡°¡­I¡¯ve been thinking I might try to¡­ enlist¡­¡± she finishes, sheepishly. I stand, frozen to the spot, for 3 long seconds, before I stride across the stony beach, my feet scattering pebbles with each footfall. I reach the rock where she¡¯s sitting and take her grey furred face between my hands, forcing her slitpupiled, amber eyes to meet mine. She makes a silent whimper and folds her ears (more than normal) as I stare down at her, furiously. ¡°I forbid it!¡± I state, seething with anger. ¡°But¡­!¡± ¡°No buts, Tamsin Quinn!!!¡­ I don¡¯t get a choice about whether to fight¡­ you do, but I¡¯ll be bloody damned if I let you throw your life away for nothing!¡± She stands up and bats my hands away with her paws ¡°How is it fair that you have to fight and I don¡¯t!?¡± I give a slightly hysterical laugh as I answer ¡°Fair?! Fair?!?!?!¡­ Nothing about this stupid fucking War is fair!!!¡­ Was it fair when it took my parents?! When it took your fosterdads?!¡­ We spent our entire recorded history looking at the stars and imagining the people we could meet out there and, it turns out, to them, we¡¯re the equivalent of the fucking xenomorphs!¡­ On the 5th of February, 2679, fairness became an unaffordable luxury! So, you are going to thank your lucky stars that being an uplift means you don¡¯t have to go to the same Hell that I do, you¡¯re going to marry Rex (or maybe someone else, if things don¡¯t work out with him) you¡¯re going to have a million babies and, if I don¡¯t make it back, you are gonna live my fucking share! Is that understood, Tamsin!?¡± Looking extremely pained, she lets out a pathetic sob as she nods ¡°OK, Esme¡­¡± ¡°Good!¡± I say, angrily, before pulling her into a heartfelt cuddle. She holds me tight as I stroke my hands through the dark grey fur of her back. I smile and joke ¡°God, your fur is soft, Tommie!¡­ If I make it back from the War and things don¡¯t work out with Rex, how¡¯s about you and me get married(?)¡± She giggles as she says ¡°We¡¯re both straight, Mimi¡­ Also, I¡¯m not a muscular Neanderthal man and you aren¡¯t a cute Canis boy!¡± ¡°So¡­(?!)¡± I grin ¡°¡­did I say ¡®lets get married and have wild, crazy sex every night¡¯?¡± ¡°So your idea of marriage would be?¡± ¡°Simple(!) I go out to work and you stay home and keep the place clean, have a meal ready when I get home and then let me snuggle your fur(!)¡± ¡°It sounds like what you want is a live-in housekeeper more than a spouse(!)¡± she quips. ¡°Nah¡­ I¡¯d have to pay a housekeeper¡­(!) Plus, it¡¯s generally considered harassment to make your employees snuggle with you(!)¡± She gives a mirthful sigh as she says ¡°You are incorrigible, Ms Reid!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know the meaning of the word(!)¡± I say (honestly) as I curl myself around her and sit her back down on the rock, cuddling her from behind now. We look out to the south as the Sun gets low in the sky. ¡°I don¡¯t only like muscly Neanderthal guys, you know¡­¡± I muse. She snorts and answers ¡°Oh, nooooo(!)¡­ I¡¯m sure you¡¯re partial to a wide assortment of different types of man¡­(!) For instance, muscly Neanderthal hybrids, muscly Denisovans, muscly Denisovan hybrids and may even be persuaded to be attracted to a Sapiens or a Longi¡­ if he was hench enough, of course(!)¡­ I have to assume that even the most cut Tshwane would still be too skinny for your tastes.¡± ¡°Alright little Miss Only-Dates-Good-Boys(!)¡± I shoot back. ¡°Canis are fun and attentive, especially Rex!¡­ I really don¡¯t see the appeal of men who look like they¡¯ve had their bodies carved out of marble and I don¡¯t have the slightest inclination to Neanderthals!¡± she responds, resolutely. ¡°You don¡¯t feel any sort of kinship with them¡­ being a Scot?¡± I ask. She gives a mirthful frown over her shoulder and demands ¡°Explain exactly what it is that you think us and Neanderthals have in common, Mimi!¡± ¡°Well, to me it seems like we¡¯re both proud races of intelligent folk (with lots of red hair) who, historically, got squashed under the bootheel of a more successful competitor, trying to erase our culture and identity and assimilate us into becoming them¡­ Do you not agree?¡± ¡°You realise that, as a Sapiens, not only does that make you the Englishwoman of that little analogy but any hybrid kids you had with your lucky husband would also be part of the process of Neanderthal assimilation?¡± ¡°You call me an Englishwoman again, Tommie, and your gonna leave me with no choice but to wash your mouth out with soap(!)¡± I grin. ¡°I¡¯m quivering(!)¡± she answers, dryly. I give her a squeeze as we sit in silence, staring at the water for a while. ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s kinda bullshit that, right now, Terra considers me to be a wee baby, doing wee baby things, but, next month, they¡¯re gonna press a gun into my hands and say ¡®off to War with you!¡¯¡± I say, eventually. ¡°You could always volunteer for Officer Training if you¡¯re so keen to go off and die?¡± points out Tommie, dryly. ¡°I¡¯m not¡­¡± I correct ¡°¡­just commenting on the arbitrariness of it; Midnight strikes on my birthday and I magically transform from a poor little defenceless girl into a young body, ripe to be tossed into the meatgrinder, in the government¡¯s eyes¡­¡± She sighs and stays silent for a long time before saying ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll come back, Esme¡­¡± I look to the ground and forlornly say ¡°You know I can¡¯t promise that, Tommie¡­¡± ¡°I know¡­ I guess I just¡­ wish you could!¡± ¡°I mean¡­ who knows¡­? We¡¯ve had the xenos on the run since we broke the Cordon¡­ Maybe, by the time I finish Initial Training, they¡¯ll¡¯ve sued for peace!¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ maybe¡­¡± she answers, letting me know with her tone exactly how likely she thinks that is! ¡°Do you think, if the situation was reversed, we¡¯d¡¯ve been any better?¡± I muse, idly. ¡°What d¡¯you mean?¡± ¡°Like¡­ if we¡¯d discovered a planet with six billion xenomorphs living on it in Victorian conditions? Do you think we¡¯d¡¯ve been able to be all friendly with them, ignoring how absolutely lethal they were and how horrifying they looked to us.¡± She shakes her head and answers ¡°I think we¡¯d¡¯ve probably nuked the planet from orbit with someone saying ¡®it¡¯s the only way to be sure¡¯¡­ I am quite tickled by the image of a xenomorph wearing a tophat and reaching under his tailcoat to pull a pocketwatch out of his vestjacket, though!¡± I giggle and the conversation ceases for another long moment. Then my alarm sounds, letting me know it¡¯s 6:59 and we¡¯ve only got 40mins to make it back to the home before sunset and 1:01hrs to beat the curfew. ¡°Alright, Missus¡­ you wanna call a capsule or shall we walk(?)¡± ¡°Oh, aye(!)¡± she smirks over her shoulder ¡°Let¡¯s trudge 50km home, over hill and glen(!)¡± ¡°Strathluce isn¡¯t a glen, Tommie¡­ It¡¯s a strath!¡­ Honestly, I thought you were meant to be the canny brainbox(!)¡± I say, smugly. ¡°We live in a glen, Mimi!¡± she retorts, calling a capsule on her holo. ¡°Glen Ryan doesn¡¯t count! It¡¯s all urbanised¡­¡± We argue goodnaturedly, laughing until the capsule arrives to take us home. Remembrance, Chapter 2 of 28 --- Hr3101m973S¡¯s perspective--- ---Tuesday, 31st of October, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ---Southwestern Scotland--- I ride the speeder at an altitude of 307m over the rural landscape. I have 158 other bodies making similar deliveries across Britain right now, as well as 29 in Ireland and 11 in Doggerland. Though, none of them have quite as spectacular a view as this one does so, for the moment, this is the body whose sensory feed I¡¯m paying the most attention to. I see a large herd of mammoths walking at the edge of the Galloway Forest. Though it has a better view, the news I¡¯m carrying with this body is just as grim as all the rest. In hindsight, it¡¯s probably a good thing that I was such a spendthrift with regard to my fleet of courier bodies¡­ If I hadn¡¯t been, if I¡¯d selected abilities that let them do much more than deliver things, they may well have been requisitioned for military use¡­ which, I suppose, they were anyway¡­ but there¡¯s a big difference between delivering notices on Earth and fighting on some distant planet! Still, if sacrificing my replaceable bodies would save even a single irreplaceable life, I would definitely have done it. The city comes into view. Calling it a ¡®city¡¯ may be a little generous¡­ it only has 2,507,963 inhabitants. That may have been a respectable city in the 22nd Century but, for context, nearby Dumfries has 7,491,509 and Glasgow has 24,339,192! Stranraer occupies a rare middleground between the historic hamlets that are allowed to exist in the countryside and the megalopoleis where around 98.32% of people on Earth live. I land in the northern part of the town and step off my speeder. I get some raised eyebrows as I walk from the landing pad to the residential home. I don¡¯t blame them! Before the War, every single one of my courier bodies had a full suit of elastomer over their entire body, to make them seem more lifelike¡­ Now, though, that¡¯s considered a luxury and, so, this particular unit is walking around with its metal endoskeleton bare, bar its uniform. The effect can be a little offputting¡­ though, in truth, it may also have to do with the news they¡¯ve inferred me to be delivering to some unlucky soul. I cross the wall into the garden and begin walking up the steps, through the mosslawn shrouded by pinus sylvestris trees, to the house on top of the little hillock. It takes me 12 seconds to reach the door from the gate¡­ I can¡¯t rush, I need to give this girl her due respect. I rap on the door 3 times and hear the knocks echo through the cavernous hall behind. A man opens the door. I begin, speaking in the most popular local dialect of Lallans Scots that I know to be this man¡¯s primary speech register ¡°Greetings, Mr Baird. I don¡¯t know if you remember me but¡­¡± ¡°I remember you! I¡¯m organic, not daft! You¡¯ve been here enough times already¡­¡± interrupts the residential care manager, his demeanour gruff and no-nonsense ¡°¡­Come in, Hermes¡­ You can wait in the kitchen while I go get her.¡± I step into the building, passing below the lowest of 5 balcony walkways into an open space with a skylight ceiling, allowing in the natural light. I let the man lead the way to a large kitchen. He pulls out a chair for me. ¡°Thank you, Sir, but I believe I ought to remain standing to make this delivery.¡± I respond, politely. ¡°Suit yourself¡­¡± he shrugs before walking off, presumably to fetch the girl he knows I¡¯m here for. I wait several minutes before he reappears. The girl he has in tow is the perfect match of the file photo (though a few years older). She is average height, 178cm, and has an average build. Her skin is pale, her eyes are emerald green and her hair is long, absurdly voluminous, curly and vividly red. She looks to be in fine physical health and is making no pretence of illness or injury, though she is scowling at me. The grey bearded man shuts the door, leaving me alone with the girl. ¡°Could you tell me your name, please?¡± I ask, already knowing. ¡°Esme Reid.¡± she answers, truculently. ¡°And your date of birth, Ms Reid?¡± ¡°31st of October, 2664. Come to give me a birthday present, have you(?)¡± she says, folding her arms, pursing her lips and looking away to the kitchen counter by the window. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± I say, reaching into my bag to withdraw a letter and a large holopad with a stylus attached. I hold the letter out to her and say ¡°This is your conscription notice, Ms Reid. Please sign receipt of it here.¡± indicating the holo. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Her eyes flick from the paper to the screen before she drily answers ¡°I don¡¯t suppose, if I don¡¯t take that or don¡¯t sign for it, that¡¯d mean I couldn¡¯t be drafted, would it(?!)¡± I shake my head and respond ¡°I¡¯m afraid that no such loophole exists, Ms Reid¡­ If you have a conscientious objection to fighting, you could request a nonmilitary national service. However, you would be asked to provide some proof of your conscientiousness and¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m no bleeding heart¡­¡± she says, snatching the letter from my hand, irritably ¡°¡­I¡¯ll sign for my bloody death warrant!¡± scrawling her name on the pad. Without looking at the pad, I check the signature she provided against the one on file and find it a close enough match to proceed. ¡°Thank you, Ms Reid. Please report to your local recruitment office in Stranraer within 14 days for your physical and psychological fitness assessments. They¡¯ll then interview you regarding your preferences for training and deployment and they¡¯ll try to take those into account when assigning them. ¡°Great(!) Maybe if I can convince my evaluator that I¡¯m cracked enough in the head, I won¡¯t get sent off to die like my mam and dad did(!)¡± she quips, sarcastically. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll have much luck with that strategy, Ms Reid¡­ Sol¡¯s government have had quite the interest in weeding out malingerers these past few years¡­ I would put the odds of success below 1%.¡± 0.75619902%, actually, but that¡¯s too many decimals for most biologicals¡¯ patience(!) She frowns up at me and demands ¡°I¡¯m being such a brat about this¡­ Why are you still being so friendly!?¡± I laugh ¡°Ms Reid, though I strongly encourage you not to express the same demeanour to your drill instructors as you are with me, you are far from the worst person I¡¯ve delivered this news to in even the last half hour!¡­ Right now, I¡¯ve got a draftee in Leeds who¡¯s explaining a hairbrained scheme involving unethically cloning a replacement to fight in his stead, I¡¯ve got one in Bristol who¡¯s trying to beat up my body but only really succeeding in hurting herself, I¡¯ve got one in Edinburgh that¡¯s run away in an attempt not to be served¡­ by comparison, a bit of scowling and sarcasm is rather tame!¡± ¡°Huh!¡­ Guess I¡¯m not quite the bad girl Ms. Larch always told me I was, am I(!)¡± ¡°It seems you shall simply have to work harder(!) I believe there is a leather jacket emporium in Stranraer that still does business¡­¡± She smiles and laughs for the first time that I¡¯ve seen. That¡¯s the real reason I don¡¯t get touchy about the attitudes expressed to me by draftees: It makes my job so much easier when I soften the blow with good manners and good humour. As unfair as it is that so many choose to shoot the messenger, it¡¯s understandable when you consider the messages I carry. ¡°Ms Reid¡­¡± I start, seriously but softly ¡°¡­if you truly do not wish to fight, you know there are alternatives? You can discuss them with your recruitment officer but¡­¡± ¡°I got no special skills, Hermes¡­ Nothing I can do that an AI couldn¡¯t do faster and better¡­ The Merchant Navy¡¯s basically as dangerous as the Navy Navy, just less armed¡­ the Humanitarian corps has a waiting list so long that the War¡¯d be over (one way or another) long before they got to the point of considering me¡­ I know where I¡¯m going¡­ no use in fighting it¡­¡± ¡°Alright, Ms Reid¡­ I wish you the best¡­¡± I say, turning to leave. Mr Baird shows me out of the house. Rather than walking back to the landingpad, to retrieve my bike, I walk the other way. My bag is still heavy with conscription notices¡­ it only makes sense to deliver all the ones in this town first¡­ ---Oskar¡¯s Perspective--- ---Southern Doggerland--- The evening sun plays off of the calm waves of the North Sea. It should be raining on a day like this¡­ This gorgeous weather is slapping me in the face and telling me to be happy, to be content¡­ I know the weather does not care for the happenings of people¡­ I know that, if it rained everywhere and every day there was a funeral, the whole world would flood¡­ I know this¡­ and still¡­ I hate this contrast between my grim, internal misery and the tranquil sun drenched beach where I stand, this autumn day¡­ There¡¯s barely even any snow on the grass¡­ When this War started, I was fourteen and had two loving parents¡­ My Father was too old to serve, at 51¡­ At 37, my mother was not¡­ Yet, it¡¯s not my mother¡¯s funeral I am attending right now. That was two months ago. No¡­ the strongly built 55 year old man, dressed in a long white robe and clutching a Norse langsvere, despite having been a fishfarmer and not a warrior, is my father¡­ Lars ¡®Walker¡¯ Taylor. His eyes are closed and he lies within a wooden boat, around 80cm wide and 3m long. This boat was never meant to touch the water¡­ I bought it from a supplier in Bankland that specialises in funerary boats for Doggerland¡¯s Forn Sier community. I already recited a poem¡­ there¡¯s nothing else for me to do until the singer begins. I¡¯m not listening to the Goei prattle on about Valhalla and Ragnar?k¡­ I¡¯m just looking at my father¡¯s face¡­ oscillating between hating him for doing this to me and hating myself for doing this to him. The sermon concludes and a blonde woman, like everyone else present, dressed in snow white funeral clothes, steps forward. One of the three men behind her brings his bow to the three strings of his tagelharpa, another raises a flute carved out of a cow¡¯s leg bone to his lips, the last begins banging out a slow beat on his drum. The band would definitely be larger if so many of the Hof¡¯s musicians hadn¡¯t been called up to serve. The men begin playing a mournful tune and the woman begins a wailing, melismatic melody, not in English, the first language of most here, not in my father¡¯s native Frisian, not even in New Norse, the liturgical language of his faith¡­ She sings in a strain of Norwegian that was spoken centuries ago, when there were barely any Forn Sier practitioners living. mf? Eg songane s?kte Eg songane sende D? den djupaste brunni Gav meg dr?par s? ramme Av Valfaders pant?mf I have a final part to play in this ritual. The Goei picks up the torch and lights it against a flaming brazier before beckoning to me. I step forward from the small crowd. In contrast to most, whose clothes are pristine white robes and tunics and such, I wear the same simple white suit that I wore two months ago. I may be a nonbeliever but no one at my father¡¯s Hof challenged the idea that I was the most fitting person to perform this last rite for him. I take the torch from the man and walk to my father¡¯s side. I hesitate before I touch it to one of the mounds of high energy, smokeless fuel that surround his body¡­ but only for a moment¡­ The flame quickly takes and, before the current verse of the song is even finished, the entire boat is engulfed in fire. I toss the torch in and step back from the conflagration. Minutes pass as I watch the inferno consume the entire pyre. I barely notice the music stop. I barely notice the crowd thinning as people leave. I just watch as the man¡¯s existence is wiped from the Earth. ¡°Have you thought about what you¡¯re going to do now, brother?¡± asks a voice from beside me. Without looking at the Pagan cleric, I dully answer ¡°I have.¡± ¡°And, what is that¡­ if I may ask?¡± ¡°My birthday¡¯s in January¡­ I¡¯ll be drafted¡­ but I don¡¯t have to wait¡­ I¡¯m going to go to the recruitment office and request an early start to my training¡­ by the time it¡¯s done, I¡¯ll be 18 and they¡¯ll be legally able to deploy me.¡± ¡°I¡­ see¡­ that¡¯s certainly¡­ an option¡­ Have you thought about¡­?¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t, Tormund. This is what I¡¯m doing.¡± I state, still looking at the blaze. ¡°I see¡­ I wish you well then, Oskar¡­¡± Tormund says, sincerely. Remembrance, Chapter 3 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Saturday, 11th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- Fucking Sussex! ¡®Can you send me to the Forth Valley?¡¯ ¡®Oh, we can try¡­ On an unrelated note, how¡¯s your standard English? No problems in communicating?¡¯ I should¡¯ve just said ¡®No, I have great difficulty in communicating in anything but Lallans Scots!¡¯ instead of putting on my poshest English speech register to say ¡®Marjorie dearest, would you be a lamb and pass another buttered scone¡­ hold the raspberry jam, it¡¯s far too spicy for me!¡¯ which she told me she¡¯d take as a ¡®Yes.¡¯ ¡°This is an English language barracks. If you have been directed here in error, please make yourself known to barracks staff for reassignment.¡± plays a loud, prerecorded Welsh language announcement, over speakers. They¡¯re fucking rubbing it in! ¡°This is an English language barracks. If you have been directed here in error, please make yourself known to barracks staff for reassignment.¡± it repeats in Scots Gaelic. ¡°Ceci est une caserne Anglophone. Si vous avez ¨¦t¨¦ assign¨¦ ici par erreur, veuillez vous faire conna?tre aupr¨¨s du personnel de la caserne pour une r¨¦affectation.¡± it says in what I¡¯m 90% sure is a French version of the same announcement (I can¡¯t be certain, though, as that¡¯s not one of my languages). Looking at the crowds queuing to get in makes me regret asserting that I didn¡¯t need transport here. ¡®You shouldn¡¯t be sending someone to War that you don¡¯t trust to navigate themself from Galloway to Sussex!¡¯ were my exact words. I brushed off the recruitment officer saying that I¡¯d be processed faster if I arrived on Military organised transport. Well, standing here¡¯s not gonna get me to the front of the queue now, is it! I walk forward to join the massive throng of people, almost all of which look to be about my age. It¡¯s astonishing how short you feel, being an average height girl in a crowd of people! 178cm really isn¡¯t all that much when you¡¯ve got a not insignificant number of +2m guys here! Even guys who are the average 188cm can make a girl feel short when their packed too close¡­ I see a few Neanderthal hunks¡­ perhaps conscription won¡¯t be all bad(!) When I make it to the front of the line, the guy just stares expectantly at me like I¡¯m supposed to already know what to do. ¡°Y¡¯awright?¡­ Err¡­ mah nam¡¯s Esme Reid¡­?¡± I say, hesitantly, in perfectly comprehensible speech. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, would you repeat that?¡± he answers, looking at me like I just spoke to him in fucking Chinese! ¡°Greetings, gracious sir! You may kindly refer to me by the name ¡®Esme Reid¡¯!¡± I say, affecting my supercilious Southern English gentlewoman accent. ¡°Alright, Ms Reid. Please present your draft papers and identification.¡± The balls they have to ask me to prove who I am when they¡¯re the ones asking me to go off and fucking die for them! I think about quipping that I should ask him to show me some proof that this is a legitimate Military installation sanctioned by the government of Sol¡­ but think better of it¡­ Instead, I pull out my draft papers and my holopad, quickly getting up my identification app. The man scans the code with his own holo and spends a few seconds glancing from his screen to my face and back. Seeming satisfied that I¡¯m not attempting to enlist under a false identity (for whatever strange reason a person might want to do that) he glances at my papers, says ¡°Everything seems to be in order.¡± and waves a hand in front of a machine which whirs for half a second before spitting out a simple chain necklace with two little metal rectangles hanging off of it. He hands it to me and says ¡°This is your identification tag. Please check that the information on it is correct and, if it is, put it on and never take it off.¡± I check the tag. ¡°You¡¯ve got my name and birthday right¡­¡± I say, making a conscious effort to keep my speech register in that that a standard English speaker would consider acceptable ¡°¡­don¡¯t know about the regiment and serial number.¡± ¡°Those will be correct.¡± he says with a ¡®move along¡¯ tone. I shrug, raise the dogtag over my head and drop it around my neck. I walk on and he¡¯s serving the girl behind me before I¡¯ve even rounded the counter. I¡¯m ushered through the barracks, herded by the staff, until I reach a building labelled ¡®Billet House 279¡¯. It doesn¡¯t really look like I expected soldiers¡¯ digs to look. Definitely prefabbed but sort of has more the look of a uni hall than anything else¡­ though I think it¡¯s probably a bit much to expect that I¡¯ll get a room to myself(!) I follow the throng of draftees through to a wide open room, on the ground floor, that looks like it¡¯s normally a cafeteria. The camp attendants (who I¡¯m guessing were in the same boat as us, not too long ago) direct us to stand along the left, right and nearside walls, keeping the back wall and centre of the room clear. Everyone in place, there follows a few minutes of silence broken only by people whispering to one another. Then, she enters the room. Dark skinned and clad in green camo clothing, her scalp is easily visible between her cornrows with nary a hair out of place. Her expression looks absolutely indifferent with just the slightest hint of a curled lip. From the broadness and flatness of her facial features as well as her single mauve eye, she is clearly half Tshwane¡­ though, you¡¯d never guess that from her stature! Female Tshwane average nearly 2m¡­ the men are more like 2.2m! She¡¯s shorter than me! She¡¯s also built like a Sapiens, not the willowy thinness typical of Tshwane I guess genetics interact in funny ways sometimes¡­ Based on her age, her Tshwane parent would probably have to have been one of the very first to be cloned back! The other eye seems to have been ripped out at some point because in its place is a bionic and there¡¯s a patch of hypopigmented scar tissue, forming a tear shape, at the right corner. ¡°Recruits¡­ Welcome to the United Terran Coalition Infantry Trainin¡¯ Camp, Graffham¡­ My name is Warrant Officer Simone Sands¡­ and I¡¯ll be your drill instructor¡­¡± says the woman, cooly, speaking in a rough sounding, London accent. The surname ¡®Sands¡¯ probably means her dad was the Tshwane (though not necessarily¡­ she might have been given her mum¡¯s surname¡­ or it might be a coincidental English surname). ¡°¡­You all know why you¡¯re here¡­ Most of you¡¯ve prob¡¯ly already lost loved ones to this War¡­ You are here to defend our right to exist¡­ and I can¡¯t think of a more worthy reason to fight than that¡­¡± I¡¯ve decided I like this woman¡­ She may be English but I¡¯ll try not to hold that against her(!) ¡°The first thing I need to tell all of you is that, by the end of your trainin¡¯, you will NOT like me¡­¡± she says, as if reading my mind ¡°¡­that¡¯s OK. My job ain¡¯t to be liked, my job ain¡¯t to make friends¡­ my job is to make soldiers!¡± She casts her biological and bionic eyes around the room, letting her words hang in the air. ¡°Note¡­ that I said ¡®soldiers¡¯¡­ This ain¡¯t Full Metal Jacket. This ain¡¯t the 20th Century. There¡¯ll be no Pvt Piles here!¡­ I ain¡¯t aimin¡¯ to destroy your minds or your individuality. I ain¡¯t goin¡¯ to physic¡¯ly and psychologic¡¯ly abuse you into becomin¡¯ robots or killers¡­ I am makin¡¯ you into soldiers¡­ Regardless¡­ this process will not be easy! In fact, it may well be the hardest thing you ever do!¡­ As the face of this process, you will come to hate and resent me for it!¡­ I hope for it! The more you hate me the more-DO YOU HAVE SOMETHIN¡¯ TO SAY, PRIVATE?!¡± Everyone in the room is startled by the authoritative woman breaking herself off to shout angrily at someone on the other side of the room. ¡°STEP FORWARD AND SPEAK SO EVERYONE CAN HEAR YOU!¡± The boy that steps forward is tall, bulky and muscular with a handsome, half Neanderthal face¡­ just my type! Then he has to go and ruin it by opening his mouth. ¡°I was just saying¡­ that I find it somewhat difficult to take you seriously as a commanding officer¡­ You just seem a little bit¡­ little.¡± says the boy in the poshest, smarmiest English drawl I¡¯ve ever heard! The woman does not shout, she does not scream, she doesn¡¯t snarl or even purse her lips! She just nods, as if considering his words, then asks ¡°What¡¯s your name, Soldier?¡± ¡°Rupert Forest.¡± responds the boy, proudly. ¡°And, how tall are you, Pvt Forest?¡± responds the woman, unimpressed ¡°195cm.¡± he answers. ¡°And, what¡¯s your mass?¡± she asks. ¡°110kg.¡± ¡°I see, I see¡­ So, by your logic¡­ you¡¯d make a better drill sergeant than me, would you? You¡¯re 25cm taller and 35kg heavier, afterall!¡± He smirks ¡°I wouldn¡¯t presume to say so, Ma¡¯am¡­¡± in a way that definitely suggests that he thinks he would. She seems to consider that for some moments before answering ¡°Alright then, fight me for it!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­?¡± responds the poshboy. ¡°You heard me¡­ Clearly, you got no respect for skill and experience but it seems like you must respect power¡­ so fight me for it! You win, you get to train this lot, I win, you never question my authority again!¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Is this woman mad!? She may be a soldier but this boy she just challenged is a half Neanderthal giant! She¡¯s gonna lose! I do not want to be drilled by some snotty, privileged English brat who got here at the same time as I did and just couldn¡¯t keep his fucking mouth shut! Then again, I don¡¯t really want to be drilled by a woman so delusional that she felt the best way to squash insubordination was to challenge a man she has no hope of beating, either! The guy is clearly salivating over the power that¡¯s just been slapped on the table in front of him as he answers ¡°I accept your terms, Ms Sands¡­¡± with faux magnanimity. There¡¯s no way they¡¯d let a Private run drills, is there? When he wins, someone just needs to go and complain and they¡¯ll give us another (less stupid) drill sergeant¡­ right? He strips off his jacket to reveal a pair of thick, muscular arms that (in spite of his repulsive personality) are a thrilling sight. He has to go and ruin it by flexing and posing, clearly revelling in the room¡¯s worth of gasps he got when he revealed his arms¡­ He obviously likes being the centre of attention. ¡°Done?¡± asks Sands, drily. ¡°If you still want to do this¡­¡± he says, smugly ¡°¡­you could just concede defeat and I¡¯m sure no one would hold it against you!¡± Her lip curls as she answers ¡°But¡­ if I did that, no one would learn nothin¡¯, now would they¡­¡± He shrugs before launching himself at her without waiting for her to give the word to begin. She whirls out of the way and he snatches at her, unsuccessfully, as his momentum carries him past. ¡°Lesson 1:¡­¡± she shouts while snapping into the space behind him and kicking out his knee ¡°¡­size does not determine victory, strength does not determine victory¡­¡± levelling another powerful kick between his shoulderblades to bring him to the ground. She backs off, allowing him to scramble to his feet and turn to face her, hunched in readiness and scowling. ¡°¡­Pvt Forest here looked at me with contempt on account of my small size and, though he didn¡¯t say so, I¡¯d guess that my rough accent, my lack of a graduate epithet and my lack of a penis also played a roll in his judgin¡¯ me as less than!¡­ He thought he could beat me, he probably still DOES, and, ¡¯causa that, he didn¡¯t respect my ability to lead¡­!¡± Forest makes another lunge for the smaller woman, misses and is punished for it by being knocked back to the floor. I¡¯m agog as I watch this little woman¡­ there¡¯s no other word but toy with the giant man! ¡°¡­but victory does not care how big you are, how strong you are, how classy or educated you are or what¡¯s in your pants or panties¡­!¡± She dodges around his arm and pins his chest to the floor with her knee. ¡°Discipline and trainin¡¯ determine victory!¡­ Things that I have and Pvt Forest LACKS!¡­ Things that ALL of you will acquire, over the next 8 months!!!¡± she turns her head down to the mountain of man she¡¯s pinning to the floor ¡°Concede, Private!¡± The man shakes his head, trying in vain to leverage himself up. ¡°Alright then¡­ Lesson 2: When faced with a resistant individual, compliance can be effectively enforced by the expedient of lockin¡¯ their joints to induce PAIN!!!¡± She grabs his thick arms by the wrists and pulls them backwards in a way they are not meant to bend! He screams in agony! ¡°CONCEDE!!!¡­ Don¡¯t make me send you to the Medical Officer! It¡¯d be inconvenient for BOTH of us if your pride makes you miss your first week of trainin¡¯ while your arms heal!!!¡± He holds out for two more seconds before screaming ¡°I concede! I CONCEDE!!!¡± She releases him and stands back up. ¡°On your feet, Soldier¡­¡± she growls down at him. He stands back up, his face beet red. ¡°Are you ever goin¡¯ to question my fitness to instruct again, Private?¡± she glares up at the humiliated giant. ¡°No.¡± he answers, gracelessly. ¡°No¡­?¡± she says as if waiting for something else. Forest looks as confused as I am about what she¡¯s expecting. ¡°No, Ma¡¯am!¡± she snarls. ¡°No, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Good, we¡¯ll work on your attitude, movin¡¯ forward. Now, get back in line!¡± The humiliated man picks up his civvy jacket and returns to the place he was called out from. ¡°Now, I don¡¯t think I need to prattle on anymore about how you¡¯re gonna hate me by the end of our time together, do I?¡­ I think Pvt Forest helped me prove that point quite well, so I¡¯ll move on¡­ You will sleep in this buildin¡¯, six to a room. Your rooms will be gender segregated. If you wish for a place to be¡­ intimate with people of the opposite gender, you may request use of one of the conjugal rooms¡­ I suggest you do the same if you want to be intimate with a same gender partner but that¡¯s between you and your roommates! You will eat in this room at 0700hrs, 1200hrs and 1800hrs. Diet¡¯ry requirements will be accommodated but, bare in mind, this ain¡¯t your mummies¡¯ and daddies¡¯ kitchen! ¡®This food is forbidden by my religion/personal ethics¡¯ is a diet¡¯ry requirement. ¡®I am allergic to this food¡¯ is a diet¡¯ry requirement! ¡®I don¡¯t like how this food tastes¡¯ is not(!)¡­ In the mornin¡¯s, you will be receivin¡¯ lessons in lecture theatres, workshops and the like¡­¡± ¡°Oh great¡­ just what I wanted after leaving school(!) More classrooms(!)¡± I mutter to myself. Her head instantly wheels to me with unnerving precision. ¡°Someone else with somethin¡¯ they¡¯d like to say!?¡± she says, locking eyes with me, terrifyingly. ¡°No, Ms Sands!¡± I answer, instantly. ¡°Miss?! I¡¯m not your bloody schoolteacher, girl!!!¡± Everyone laughs. Even Pvt Forest, like he wasn¡¯t just humiliated himself, 2 minutes ago! ¡°Ma¡¯am¡­ err¡­ Ma¡¯am, no, Ma¡¯am!!!¡± I say, doing my best to emulate the tone I¡¯ve seen soldiers use in films. She rolls her eye (it¡¯s difficult to tell if the bionic rolls too) and says ¡°Better¡­ What¡¯s your name, Private?¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am, the Private¡¯s name is Esme Reid, Ma¡¯am!!!¡± ¡°Do you remember me tellin¡¯ you this ain¡¯t Full Metal Jacket?¡­ You don¡¯t need to scream when you talk to me, you don¡¯t need to refer to yourself in third person and one ¡®Ma¡¯am¡¯, when you¡¯re done speakin¡¯, is enough, Reid!¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± She points to her single, mauve eye, then to me and says ¡°I¡¯ll have my eye on you, Reid!¡± Somehow, her tone sends a chill up my spine but I do my best not to show it. She turns away and I release a silent sigh of relief. ¡°As I was sayin¡¯¡­ In your lectures you will learn the ins and outs of military theory; tactics, strategies, logistics etc. You will learn as much as we can tell you about the nature of the species we are fightin¡¯; their capabilities, tendencies, political organisations and known weaknesses¡­ bear in mind that First Contact weren¡¯t much more than 4 years ago and we¡¯ve been at War for almost all the intervenin¡¯ time, so a lot of what we teach you will be little more than guesswork and hearsay from prisoners we¡¯ve interrogated¡­ The mornin¡¯s¡¯ll also be where you learn the particulars of the equipment you¡¯ll be expected to be proficient with in the field. This includes firearms, plasmaweaponry and durasteel armour, as well as the tech you¡¯ll likely encounter from the opposite side; kinetic pulse weapons, laser weapons, field emitters etc¡­ I strongly suggest that no one allows word to get back to me that they¡¯re not takin¡¯ these classes seriously!¡­ A stupid soldier is a dead soldier!¡± She glares around the room, her eyes resting on me for a quarter of a second. ¡°¡­In the afternoons and evenin¡¯s, you¡¯ll be doing PT¡­ that¡¯s ¡®Physical Trainin¡¯¡¯¡­ soon to be every one of your two least favourite words in the English Language(!) ¡° I notice a wry smirk twist the mouths of a few of the camp attendants. ¡°In PT you will be drilled in agility, endurance, close quarters combat and coordinated marching¡­ Five times over the comin¡¯ 8 months, you and your trainin¡¯ partner will be dropped into a remote bit of wilderness, somewhere on Earth, for five day practical survival experience. You will be given a beacon, to summon retrieval, but these are only to be used in cases of actual threat to life or bodily integrity¡­ not because you¡¯re feelin¡¯ miserable!¡± She takes a second to pause for breath. ¡°You get an allowance of 12 days off, over your time here¡­ that¡¯s one and a half a month¡­ These are subject to my approval and I may deny them for any reason, including no reason¡­ so don¡¯t piss me off!¡­ You may not take more than 2 consecutive days leave at a time! Certain classes are mandatory and leave will not be approved on days they occur. If your allowance is spent, no more leave will be approved, barring a real emergency!¡­ Now, for today, you are going to line up to have your maps and room keys downloaded onto your holos when your name is called, then you are going to have your bodies scanned for your armour measurements¡­ at that point everyone with no uterus has the rest of the day free to settle in¡­ If you have a uterus, you¡¯ll need to report to medical to get your cycle paused! This is, I¡¯m afraid, nonoptional¡­ You are not prohibited from engaging in relations with your fellow recruits but you cannot be a soldier while you¡¯re able to get pregnant. Attempts to circumvent this requirement in any way will land you in the Stockade!¡­ After your cycle pause has been given, you¡¯ll also have the rest of the day to settle in¡­ Enjoy it! It¡¯ll be the most downtime you get for a while!¡­ Finally¡­ I believe we have a 17 year old with us here¡­ Pvt Taylor?¡± A few people put their hands up, most looking confused. ¡°Pvt Oskar Taylor! The 17 year old?¡± she says, exasperated. All but one of those with their hands up put them down. The one remaining Pvt Taylor with his hand in the air has pale skin, black hair, brown eyes and a sharp featured face wearing a dour expression. He stands even taller than Forest¡­ Nearly 2m tall! Though he¡¯s not quite as heavily built, he¡¯s certainly a good looking piece of boycandy! ¡°Pvt Taylor¡­¡± says Sands, her mouth breaking into a smile for the first time I¡¯ve seen ¡°¡­couldn¡¯t wait to go off to War, could you(?)¡± He mutters something but, while I can hear the power and deepness of his voice, I can¡¯t make out a word he says. ¡°You¡¯ll have to speak up, Taylor! Nobody¡¯ll be able to hear you if you mumble.¡± points out Sands. ¡°I said I had some personal circumstances that made this the most sensible course of action for me, Ma¡¯am.¡± says the tall, dark haired man, looking over her head rather than down at her and speaking in a grim monotone. He definitely loses boycandy points for the poshness of his accent, unfortunately¡­ ¡°I see¡­ I won¡¯t pry into that but¡­ you didn¡¯t think of Officer Training? That¡¯s the route that most people take when volunteering ahead of their conscription.¡± He shakes his head ¡°I thought of it and decided against it, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Oh? Why¡¯s that, Pvt Taylor?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t believe I would make a good officer, Ma¡¯am.¡± he answers simply. She laughs ¡°I wish every soldier could be as introspective, Taylor! I like you!¡­ Unfortunately, bein¡¯ a minor does mean that you can¡¯t be put in a room with others¡­ Sooo, that means you get a room to yourself¡­ for the moment. Might sound cushy but before anyone else gets too jealous, bare in mind that privacy is the only advantage! His room will be a sixth the size of yours so its basic¡¯ly a broomcupboard¡­ the disadvantage will be severely reduced opportunity to socialise!¡­ If that doesn¡¯t sound doable, you can leave and come back when you turn 18, Taylor.¡± ¡°It¡¯s acceptable, Ma¡¯am.¡± he says without hesitating. Yeah¡­ it¡¯s official¡­ I don¡¯t like him¡­ ---later--- I rub the spot on my arm where the serum was thunked into me about 15 minutes ago. Like with everything else about conscription, I get it¡­ I understand the point¡­ But seeing the sense doesn¡¯t mean I have to like it! It¡¯s not like I want to get pregnant (getting a nine month reprieve from service would be a fairly shitty reason for me to bring a child into the world) but it does feel like one last slap in the face to my personal autonomy that I¡¯ve just had a cycle pause fucking mandated upon my body by the government! As I draw near, door 1512 detects the key downloaded on my holo and unlocks I open it and am greeted by a blonde girl, smiling broadly and instantly identifiable as brimming with ADHD energy. ¡°Hey there! My name¡¯s Charlotte, it¡¯s lovely to meet you!¡± says the girl, wrapping me in a hug without asking if I¡¯m OK with that. Her accent makes me wonder if everyone I meet here is going to be a posh toff! She makes three of three of my fellow draftees! ¡°A pleasure, Charlotte¡­ the name¡¯s Esme¡­¡± I say, speaking Scottish accented standard English and gingerly patting her back. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re Scottish¡­?¡± she says pulling herself off me with an expression that suggests meeting a Scottish person is just the most wonderful thing she could have imagined ¡°¡­My great grandmother was from Edinburgh, where are you from?¡± ¡°Stranraer.¡± I answer. She frowns ¡°I don¡¯t know it, I¡¯m sorry!¡± ¡°I won¡¯t hold it against you¡­ Southwestern tip of Scotland? Where it nearly touches Ireland and the Man Peninsula?¡­ ¡¯Bout two and a half million people?¡± ¡°Oh, wooow! I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever met someone from a village before!¡± she says, seeming entirely oblivious to how that might be taken as an insult. ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess it¡¯s not that big.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± she wraps me back in the hug and continues ¡°¡­we¡¯re the first ones to the room and that has to mean we¡¯re going to be best friends!¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid my best friend¡¯s name is Tamsin¡­ the position is not open.¡± I say, firmly setting a boundary. ¡°I meant best bootcamp friends, silly!¡± she says, as if that should have gone without saying. ¡°Alright¡­ I guess that position''s open¡­ but you¡¯ve not got the job yet(!)¡± I quip, warming up a little to the ball of posh English energy. She pulls back and beams at me ¡°Alright then, for my first act as best bootcamp friend candidate, let me show you the view!¡­ That should earn me some points!¡± She says, leading me into the room that¡¯s so small it makes me doubt that that goody-two-shoes 17 year old can possibly have one a sixth this size! She leads me to the window and spends a few moments making sure I¡¯m positioned just right before she draws back the curtain. The view is quite breathtaking¡­ rolling hills of snow blanketed mammoth steppe, lit by evening sun, with barely any of the sprawling military camp visible. Though, you can see one of the tallest structures ever built by Humanity¡­ the Sussex Space elevator¡­ several times the Earth¡¯s own diameter, the ¡®top¡¯, if you can even call it that, is a fifth of the way from here to Luna! ¡­And¡­ in 8 months, I¡¯m going to be riding it, all the way up, to get on a troop transport. ¡°Look! See! There¡¯s a herd of aurochs over on that hill! You know this place used to be a national park, before even Unification or the Reset! It¡¯s called the South Downs! My mum told me we had family from here¡­ obviously I never met any of them because they would have left hundreds of years ago!¡­¡± The bubbly girl talks and talks and¡­ just keeps talking¡­ but I don¡¯t particularly mind. Remembrance, Chapter 4 of 28 ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Sunday, 19th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- Sands was wrong¡­ ¡®Physical¡¯ and ¡®training¡¯ are currently my third and second least favourite words in the English language! My least favourite word is ¡®endurance¡¯! The fact that I¡¯m faring so much better than my fellow draftees is cold comfort when, every time she sees me doing a little too well for myself, she loops me to the back of the company and makes me run to the front again! Forest was showing off, for the first 5km or so but, being a half Neanderthal, his endurance is lower than most of the rest of us¡­ even if hybrid vigour brings him closer to us than he is Cliff and Branch (the two full Neanderthals in the group). As I lap him for the hundredth time I wonder if he¡¯ll remember how sweaty and exhausted he is and pace himself next time. I doubt it. ¡°You at the back! Don¡¯t fall behind! I¡¯d prefer not to have to explain you were picked off by a pack of cave lions when I get back to base!¡± shouts Sands, not a drop of sweat visible on her. I know better than to look at who she¡¯s admonishing. I¡¯d be next if I did. As I pass Reid, the skinny, pale Scot with her hair like fire and eyes an emerald sheen, she glares up at me. She¡¯s not alone in making known her resentment of how much better suited to this I seem than most¡­ but she is alone in the intensity of her displeasure! Even Forest doesn¡¯t have the energy to spare on shooting me deathglares anymore but, it doesn¡¯t seem to matter how tired she looks, she always seems to have just enough to spare me a scowl. Did I do something to offend her? I can¡¯t think what¡­ but that seems like the only explanation! I pretend not to notice the glare as I overtake her. ---Tuesday, 21st of November, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ¡°And who can tell me what this species is called?¡± says the Lecturer, bringing up a holograph of a 3m tall xeno that looks like the head, forelimbs and torso of a shaved lesser anteater, on top of twelve long, rigid tentacles. Mine is the only hand that goes up. ¡°Pvt Taylor, please¡­¡± ¡°They¡¯re called the Thlinac, Sir.¡± ¡°Very good¡­ and are the Thlinac generally considered a threat to Humans on the battlefield?¡± ¡°Not generally, Sir, no¡­ However, they do have a venomous barb on the backs of two of their tentacles. Being stung is usually no more than an annoyance but can induce anaphylaxis in those who have an allergy to shellfish, Sir.¡± ¡°Top marks, Taylor!¡± beams the xenobiology lecturer. The praise earns me another scowl from Reid. ¡°Yes, as Taylor says, the Thlinac can induce anaphylactic shock in Humans with seafood allergies but, other than that, are considered to be no great threat to us in terms of their bodily capabilities. So far there are only a handful of species known to pose any credible threat to Terrans without relying on technology to do so. Can anyone name any such species?¡± My hand is, again, the only one in the air. ---Friday, 24th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ¡°Pvt Taylor, report!¡± shouts Sands. I run to where she stands, next to Reid and a very poorly taken apart rifle. ¡°Reporting as ordered, Ma¡¯am.¡± I say, looking straight ahead and pretending I don¡¯t see Reid sneering up at me. ¡°Reid seems to be having a little trouble stripping her gun¡­ show her how it¡¯s done.¡± orders Sands, already walking away. ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± I say, turning to sit with the girl who hates my guts for some reason. ¡°Err¡­ so¡­ this part shouldn¡¯t be like that¡­ you need to unscrew this part first¡­¡± I explain, acting like I think she¡¯s listening to me at all and that I haven¡¯t even noticed her glower. I¡¯m tempted to take one of my leave days, just to get away from this girl¡¯s hateful glaring for a bit! ---Sunday, 26th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar--- A shovelfull of dirt hits me in the chest. I look up to see Reid standing with her back to me, in the direction it came from. I stare at her for a few seconds to see if she¡¯ll acknowledge it¡­ I could have believed it was an accident except for a) who it is and b) the way she¡¯s now scrupulously ignoring me. I sigh and resume digging the obstacle ditch. It could easily be done by machine, of course, but building it ourselves is also part of the training¡­ I can¡¯t look like I¡¯m slacking off. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Not thirty seconds pass before I¡¯m showered with another shovelfull of frozen muck. Angry now, I shout ¡°Would you please watch where you¡¯re throwing that dirt!¡± The only answer I get is more dirt thrown at me. ¡°Hey!¡± More dirt. ¡°HEY!!!¡± I begin walking towards her but¡­ ¡°What¡¯s goin¡¯ on here?!¡± comes Sands¡¯ voice as she appears to my right. ¡°Pvt Reid seems to have some sort of grievance with me, Ma¡¯am.¡± I say, gesturing to my dirtied fatigues, stonily. She looks at me and then to Reid who still has her back turned ¡°Pvt Reid! You got a problem with Pvt Taylor here?¡± Reid turns around, clearly working hard to contain her mirth as she says ¡°A problem? No, Ma¡¯am! I was just so enthusiastic about the work that I got in the zone and it looks like Taylor caught some strays¡­ I won¡¯t let it happen again, Ma¡¯am.¡± Sands looks as unconvinced as I feel, turning to me and asks ¡°Who is your current trainin¡¯ partner, Private?¡± ¡°Private Locke, Ma¡¯am.¡± I answer, not liking where this is going. ¡°And where are you and Locke slated to go for your first survival excursion, Private?¡± ¡°Interior Sahul, Ma¡¯am¡­¡± She turns to Reid ¡°Who is your current trainin¡¯ partner and where are you scheduled to go with them, Private?¡± ¡°Private Everard, Ma¡¯am. The Amazon basin.¡± answers the redhead. ¡°Pvt Locke, Pvt Everard, report!¡± shouts the mauve eyed woman. My partner, James Locke, and a curly haired blonde with brown eyes that I guess to be Pvt Everard appear. ¡°Effective immediately, you four are switchin¡¯ partners¡­ Pvts Locke and Everard together, Pvts Taylor and Reid together¡­¡± ¡°But Ma¡¯am¡­!¡± objects Reid as my stomach sinks. ¡°Yes Private?¡­ Got somethin¡¯ to say?¡± growls Sands in a way that makes quite clear how likely she is to reverse herself. ¡°¡­N¡­nothing¡­ Ma¡¯am¡­¡± ¡°Good!¡­ Startin¡¯ now, you and your new partners are gonna do everythin¡¯ together except sleep¡­ You will train together, take watches together and I expect to see you sat together at meals¡­ you are gonna be around eachother from dawn to dusk until you¡¯ve gotten over this petty rivalry, Privates! Am I clear!?¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± respond Reid and I in unison. ¡°Pvt Locke, you¡¯ll be goin¡¯ to the Amazon with Pvt Everard¡­ Pvts Taylor and Reid, you¡¯ll be goin¡¯ to Australia¡­¡± ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ¡°Well¡­ that was some display you put on earlier, Esme!¡± says Saba, stripping off her headscarf as the five of us cross back into room 1512. ¡°Yeah, what were you playing at, girl?!¡± giggles Charlotte, sitting down on Kimberley¡¯s bottom bunk bed, facing her own, below mine. ¡°Like I said, Taylor just caught a few strays¡­ Seems he¡¯s not the perfect soldier he acts like if he took it so personal!¡± ¡°You¡¯re fooling no one!¡± chuckles Kimberley, sitting down next to Charlotte ¡°I saw you throw the dirt at him, that was not an accident!¡± ¡°I think Esme might have a little cruuush¡­(!)¡± teases Saba as she sits down beside me on Charlotte¡¯s bunk. Christina (the groups resident kuudere) sits down on her other side, the only one not grinning. ¡°I do NOT have a crush on that twat!¡± I say, disgusted. ¡°Really?¡± smirks Kimberley ¡°You told us you liked muscly guys¡­ Taylor certainly fits the bill!¡± ¡°I told you that as the first part of a sentence explaining that personality is also a key component in my attraction to a guy!¡± I say exasperatedly ¡°A solid gold 10 like Forest can rocket himself back down to an untouchable 0 with a vile personality!¡± ¡°You think Taylor has a vile personality?¡± asks Saba, sceptically ¡°He doesn¡¯t really seem to have any personality at all to me!¡­ I think today was the first time I¡¯ve seen him express an emotion or say anything that wasn¡¯t a simple statement of fact!¡± ¡°Oh¡­ just the swatty little, holier than thou act! Gets under my skin!¡­ Shows up here before he¡¯s even been conscripted, gets a room to himself, tallest and second muscliest in the regiment, does everything perfectly, first try, all while maintaining this social distance between himself and everyone else like he thinks he¡¯s too good for us!¡± I say, leaving out the offputtingness of his prim and proper speech given that I¡¯m the only one in the room who doesn¡¯t speak the same way! ¡°Oh you definitely have a crush, girl!¡± smirks Charlotte. ¡°I. do. not!¡± I insist, truthfully. Play acting as me and doing a not bad Scottish accent (though definitely Edinburger and not Galloway) she affects a starry eyed demeanour to say ¡°Och¡­ he¡¯s just sooo handsome and perrfect, that mysterious Doggerrlanderr! I need to hate him or I¡¯ll fall heed over heels ferr him!¡± I role my eyes. ¡°If you do hate him, Esme¡­ antagonising him to the point where he blew up at you is about the worst thing you could have done¡­¡± observes Kimberley ¡°¡­Now, you¡¯re going to be stuck with him 24/7!¡± I gesture around to the Taylorless room ¡°12/7, thank you very much! He¡¯s not allowed in here, is he!¡± ¡°Still, if you had just ignored him you would have been far less exposed to him than you are going to be now¡­¡± says Christina, her tone flatter than a pancake. ¡°Yeah¡­ you¡¯re right¡­ never good at thinking things through.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to be stuck out in the arid part of Australia with him for 5 days over New Year!¡± smirks Charlotte ¡°Just you and him¡­ alone¡­ Anything could happen!¡± ¡°He tries shit and I¡¯ll press the emergency recall beacon so fast it¡¯ll make his head spin!¡± I assert. ¡°He really doesn¡¯t seem the type to ¡®try shit¡¯¡­ I think he might be ace.¡± muses Saba. ¡°Oh he just would be, wouldn¡¯t he!¡± I sneer before doing a deep, robotic voice ¡°Sex is a mere distraction from my true goal of serving my planet and becoming the perfect soldier. Titties are ephemeral, the Glory of Terra lives eternal.¡± This elicits giggles from the other four followed by a short lull in the conversation. ¡°I think I might try and work my wiles on Locke, when we¡¯re in the Amazon together¡­ He¡¯s just my type¡­ as far as boys go at least¡­ cute face¡­ good manners¡­ slim but not too slim¡­¡± muses Charlotte. Kimberley, on the bed next to her, looks wounded. Her crush on the girl she¡¯s sat next to is obvious to everyone except, seemingly, Charlotte herself! Charlotte looks around, confused, and says ¡°Why¡¯s it gone so quiet? Have I said something wrong? I was just¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s gone quiet because Kimberley likes you, Charlotte. You¡¯re upsetting her by talking about being attracted to Locke¡­¡± states Christina, her tone blunt and factual. Me and Saba silently look at the skinny gothgirl sitting to our right, our mouths agape. Kimberly blushes so hard that it clearly shows even through the dark skin of her chubby cheeks and begins a flustered stammer as Charlotte looks at her disbelievingly. ¡°Is that true, Kim?!¡± asks the blonde, incredulously. ¡°I¡­ err¡­ it¡¯s¡­ uhm¡­¡± stammers Kimberley. ¡°Wait!¡± interrupts Saba before looking to me and Christina, picking her scarf up and wrapping it back around her head ¡°¡­we should go back down to the Mess¡­ I hear they¡¯re playing Inglorious Basterds tonight! It should be fun!¡± ¡°Yeah, sounds good.¡± I lie. We bundle Christina along with us as we leave the room to give them some privacy. The moment we are in the hall, I give her a smack to the back of her head. ¡°Ow.¡± she says, emotionlessly. ¡°The hell were you thinking!?¡± I demand. ¡°I was thinking that Kimberley either needed to act or give up on Charlotte.¡± she answers, like a semitrue AI attempting to comprehend Human emotions ¡°She wasn¡¯t acting¡­ so I precipitated things.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t just air out people¡¯s dirty laundry like that! What if Charlotte doesn¡¯t reciprocate?! Things¡¯ll get real fucking awkward, won¡¯t they!?¡± ¡°OK, OK¡­ It¡¯s out of our hands now¡­ let¡¯s just go and enjoy the movie, shall we?¡± mediates Saba. Grumpily, I allow her to shepherd us down the corridor. Remembrance, Chapter 5 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 27th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- *Thwack**Thwack**THWACK* ¡°You¡¯re dead, Reid.¡± observes Sands as, all around us, every member of the Regiment spars with weighted training swords ¡°Pvt Taylor just knocked your sword into your own chest in a way that would have cut you in half if it were a real plasmaweapon. What have you learnt from that, Private?¡± ¡°I need to fight better, Ma¡¯am!¡± I say, really struggling to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. ¡°Yeeees¡­ but more specific¡¯ly?¡± ¡°I need to¡­ not let my sword be knocked into me¡­ Ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°Taylor, what should she have learnt?¡± says Sands to the perfect, soldierly ideal I¡¯m sparring with. ¡°To keep power in her guard, Ma¡¯am.¡± he answers, instantly. ¡°Good!¡± she turns back to me ¡°Your sword won¡¯t defend you if you just hold it there limply, Private! Keep. power. in. your. guard!¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± I answer. She nods and returns her attention to little Mr Perfect ¡°You¡¯ve got good form, Private. HEMA?¡± He shakes his head ¡°Norse Martial Arts, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re a Pantheonist are you, Private?¡± Another headshake ¡°I¡¯m an Agnostic, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°I see¡­ Carry on, Privates!¡± she says before moving on to the next pair. ¡°Are you ready to go again, Reid?¡± asks the big man, stonily. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m fucking rearing(!)¡± I answer, sarcastically. ---later--- I¡¯m covered in bruises from little Mr Perfect and his Norse ¡®Arts¡¯ as I carry the heavy box of training swords back to storage. ¡°Let me help you with that.¡± comes a smarmy voice as the box is lifted from my arms. I wheel to see Pvt Forest walking to my left. ¡°Give that back, Forest.¡± I say, not in the mood for this shit. ¡°I just want to heeelp, Reid¡­¡± he simpers. ¡°You won¡¯t be helping when Sands sees you doing my work and we both get a bollocking about it, Forest¡­ I¡¯m already fighting a reputation as a slacker, I don¡¯t need those flames fanned¡­ Give it back.¡± The smarmy boy hands the heavy box back to me, holding up his hands in a gesture of ¡®whatever you say¡¯, after I take it. Without another word I turn to keep walking. He follows at my side. ¡°Sooo¡­ word on the grapevine is, you like muscly guys¡­ and Neanderthals¡­¡± Internally, I curse whichever gossip it was who leaked that to whoever Forest heard it from, externally I just flatly say ¡°Is it now?¡± ¡°Yeeeah¡­ so¡­¡± his hand shoots out against the door we just arrived at, blocking me from being able to put the training swords away as he cazh-leans against the storehouse ¡°¡­I was thinking, why don¡¯t you and I book a conjugal room together sometime, Reid?¡± Well¡­ gotta admire his balls if nothing else! ¡°Hard pass, Forest.¡± I state, firmly. The friendliness is instantly gone from his face and voice as he ungraciously says ¡°Why not?! I¡¯m the most muscular man in the Regiment! Is it because I¡¯m only half Neanderthal!?¡± ¡°I am not discussing my sexual preferences with you, Forest, except to tell you that you lie outside of them.¡± He scowls, leans in and starts ¡°Yeah¡­ well, what if¡­?¡± but he doesn¡¯t get to finish that thought. ¡°Reid, please flirt on your own time. We have work to do and the two of you are blocking the way.¡± comes a bored voice from behind me. Forest wheels and has to correct his gaze which falls on Taylor¡¯s chest at first. He clearly wasn¡¯t expecting to be confronted with someone so tall. The half Neanderthal looks back to me and I give him a little shrug. He scowls as he takes his arm off the door, allowing it to be opened. I am a tiny bit grateful to Taylor for rescuing me from that situation, even if only by accident, in the course of his being a pompous ass! ---Saturday, 3rd of December, 2682 Terran Calendar--- My bed rocks as sweet nothings are mumbled a metre below me. It is two in the fucking morning and I need to be up in four and a half hours, we all do! If it was just the mumbling, I could probably zone it out but the way there¡¯s just enough space between the bed jostles to keep me from drifting off is maddening! ¡°*gasp* You can¡¯t do thaaat!¡± Charlotte whispergiggles finally causing me to lose my patience. ¡°Guys!!!¡± I hiss, under my breath, sticking my head over the side of my bed to see four startled brown eyes, two modest, bare, pale tits and two very ample, bare, dark tits visible in the low light ¡°I could not be more thrilled that you two lovebirds have fucking found eachother in this crazy world but you are keeping me awake! For the love of all that¡¯s holy! Go and use a conjugal room if you¡¯re so keen to be dead on your feet tomorrow!¡± ¡°Sorry for keeping you up, Esme¡­!¡± whispers Charlotte ¡°¡­but¡­ we haven¡¯t booked one and Sands will be asleep¡­ she won¡¯t be able to approve it!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go with you¡­ if we get caught, blame it on me!¡± I offer, willing to do just about anything to be able to sleep. ¡°But¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s that or Kimberley goes back to her bed and all canoodling stops for tonight!¡± The two share a look before turning to me and nodding. They get up and begin pulling their pyjama tops on. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. I hop down silently, so as not to wake Saba or Christina, both asleep on bunkbeds with no other occupant. I wait by the door as they make themselves decent. The two of them round the corner and I turn to, very quietly, crack the door. I don¡¯t see anyone on watch. I gesture for them to follow. We slink silently through the hallway to the stairwell. We pass by the 14th and 13th floors to make it down to floor 12 where the nearest bank of conjugal rooms are. I look along them and see that, while most of them are lit with the red ¡®occupied¡¯ light, three have a green vacancy light over their doors. I go to the nearest one and very lightly knock. No answer. I crack the door to reveal the inside¡­ little more than a cupboard with a bed at the bottom. I pull the door open and wave the girls in. ¡°Thanks, Esme!¡± says Charlotte, as the door closes. The light turns red as she locks it. I breathe a sigh of relief as I turn to go. No sooner have I started walking when I see the torch beams rounding the corner from the stairwell. Without a moment to hide I¡¯m caught fairly red handed as two Privates on watch appear. ¡°Reid¡­ what¡¯re you doing out of bed¡­?¡± comes a male voice with a Scottish accent. Tentatively relieved I say ¡°Oh, Cousland, Taggart¡­ it¡¯s you two!¡± speaking in my natural Lallans register. ¡°What¡¯re you doing out of bed, Reid?¡± asks Cousland, more sternly. ¡°I¡­ err¡­ y¡¯see¡­ my bunkmate and her girlfriend were keeping me up¡­ I told them to use a conjugal room¡­ they¡¯re in room 17¡­ is that¡­ alright?¡± ¡°Why did you need to come?¡± asks Taggart, analytically. ¡°Oh¡­ erm¡­ I was¡­¡± ¡°You were here to take the fall for them if you got caught, weren¡¯t you?¡± asks Cousland, flatly. ¡°Yeah¡­ I was¡­¡± I admit ¡°¡­are you gonna report me?¡± Cousland narrows his eyes for a moment before saying ¡°Back to bed, Reid¡­ don¡¯t let us catch you again!¡± I grin ¡°You two¡¯re alright!¡± as I streak past him back to my room. Sleep!¡­ I could fucking marry my bed right now! ---Thursday, 14th of December, 2682 Terran Calendar--- I look up at Taylor, like me, dressed in uniform for our watch. ¡°Hey¡­¡± I frown ¡°¡­I know we¡¯re supposed to stay together but¡­ how ¡¯bout we split up for this watch?¡­ We¡¯ll get more ground covered that way, anyway.¡± He looks down at me, consideringly. I¡¯m worried that the goody-two-shoes is gonna nix that and say that we have to stay together but he surprises me by, eventually, saying ¡°Alright¡­ let¡¯s split up¡­ check in if there¡¯s a problem.¡± and turning around to walk away. I guess the dislike is mutual enough that he¡¯s willing to take that stick out of his arse to not be around me! I¡¯ve had to sit with that pompous twat for every meal for nearly three fucking weeks now! I¡¯ve had to do every run, spar every match and perform every other miscellaneous duty with him! I just have to walk about the halls and tell anyone I find to go to bed¡­ not like I need backup for that¡­ I daydream as I wander down the half lit 9th floor. The girls and I all took one of our leave days for a trip to London this week. It was the first time I¡¯d ever been. It was fun¡­ don¡¯t know what I was expecting but¡­ I guess my general distaste for England and Englishness made me think its largest city would be a boring slog to visit! I suppose, going with friends made it nice¡­ I definitely wouldn¡¯t have had half the fun if I¡¯d gone on my own! We visited an art gallery, went to some boutique shops to look at clothes we could never afford and then we got a late lunch/early dinner at a caf¨¦ on top of a skypiercer, so tall that the air was noticeably thinner up there! I smile to myself, reliving the fun excursion, as I make my way through the corridors of floors 10 and 11. I come up onto floor 12 and look at the row of red and green lights over the doors to my right. Out of curiosity, I check to see how many have actually been booked for tonight. Looks like five rooms are in use by people pulling the same trick as I had Kim and Charlie use the other day. Technically, I ought to bust in and order them back to their own beds but¡­ well¡­ not like they¡¯re actually hurting anyone¡­ I can turn a blind eye. I try not to listen too hard to the muffled moans of pleasure coming from behind the doors¡­ feels a bit voyeuristic. I don¡¯t envy the folk with rooms on the other side¡­ Maybe you get used to it? Some of them probably like it! I¡¯ve just passed the last, vacant, conjugal room when I hear it open. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I¡¯m about to turn my head to the person that must be right behind me¡­ when I feel a thick fingered hand clamp down over my mouth with irresistible force! The back of my head is pressed into a solid chest and a thick arm wraps around both of mine! I scream and struggle as I¡¯m dragged backward into the darkened room! The door closes and is locked by whoever¡¯s grabbed me. I¡¯m thrown to the bed and get a look at my assailant for the first time. It¡¯s Forest¡­ obviously he would be the type to have trouble taking ¡®no¡¯ for an answer! I don¡¯t waste my breath on pleading with him and, instead scream ¡°HEEEEELP! HEEEEELP ME!!! RUPERT FOREST IS TRYING TO RAPE ME!!!¡± as I attempt to fight my way past him, back into the corridor. Effortlessly, he flings me backward and swoops down on top of me, crushing my throat with his right hand, cutting off my screams. He backhands me, hard, across my right cheek with his left hand! Leering down at me, he says ¡°Don¡¯t worry, bitch¡­ I guarantee you¡¯ll enjoy this¡­ You like Neanderthals, don¡¯t you? Just pretend we¡¯re in a cave!¡­ I¡¯m a big strong Neanderthal who liked how you looked¡­ so I took you¡­ Now, I¡¯m going to make you mine!¡± He takes his hand from my throat to rip open my shirt. I give a sobbing scream which he answers with another hard *CRACK* across my face. ¡°Shut up! I told you you¡¯re going to enjoy this!¡± he says, angrily. ¡°Forest! Please! It¡¯s not too late!!! Let me go and we can pretend this never happened!¡± I plead, desperately, willing to promise just about anything not to suffer what I¡¯m about to suffer! ¡°Nooo, no, no, no, no, no!¡± he says, running a hand across my bare stomach with sickening sensuality ¡°I¡¯m going to make you moooan! By tomorrow morning, you won¡¯t be able to leave me alone you¡¯ll be so desperate for more!¡± ¡°HEEEEEEEELP!!!!!¡± I scream. He raises his hand to strike me but, just then, there comes a great *BOOM* from the door. ---Simone¡¯s perspective--- Blearily, I check my phone for the alert that just popped up. 1:30am and I¡¯m getting woken up to go check on some bullshit! ¡°I¡¯m in the wrong line of work¡­¡± I say to myself as I roll out of bed and slip on my boots. I sleep fully clothed for exactly this kind of situation, so I¡¯m able to just walk out the door to my room. I make my way up the stairs to floor 12. I look down the hallway and instantly know that this isn¡¯t just the usual bullshit. Taylor and Reid are by the ajar door to conjugal room 1. Taylor has several heavy bruises visible on his face. Reid¡¯s clothing and hair are dishevelled and her face is paler than normal (barring a bright red strike mark on her left cheek) as she sits against the wall, trembling. A few doors have heads peaking out of them but ¡°This ain¡¯t a fuckin¡¯ peepshow, Privates! Back to your beds!¡± The frightened recruits beat a hasty retreat back into their rooms. I stride up to the pair and quickly assess that Reid is not in a fit state to report as a soldier, so I snarl at Taylor ¡°What the fuck happened here, Private?!¡± Professionally, the boy looks over my head and answers ¡°Pvt Forest unsuccessfully attempted to perpetrate a rape against Pvt Reid and was subsequently subdued, Ma¡¯am.¡± I look at this batch of trainees¡¯ star pupil, incredulously, and hiss ¡°And how¡­ exactly was Private forest able to cause Private Reid to be in this state before you saw fit to intervene, Taylor!?¡± ¡°The Private and I were separated when the assault began, Ma¡¯am¡­¡± ¡°Separated!? Why were you SEPARATED, Private!?!?!?¡± ¡°¡­I¡­ I suggested it¡­ thought we could cover more ground that way, Ma¡¯am¡­¡± he lies. Before I¡¯ve decided whether I¡¯m going to call out the lie, Reid takes the choice out of my hands, trembling ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ don¡¯t cover for me¡­ I suggested it¡­¡± quietly. ¡°Regardless of who suggested it, you two separated and, as a result one of you almost got fucking raped!¡± I spit, angrily, directing my ire at the relatively composed Taylor rather than the fragile looking Reid ¡°That about the size of it, Private?!¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Do I need to tell you how stupid you were?! How fuckin¡¯ reckless?!¡± ¡°No, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Good¡­ Where is Pvt Forest now?¡± He gestures to the kicked in door. I peek behind it and see a very bloody and bruised man, lying unconscious on the bed. ¡°He alive, Taylor?¡± ¡°He was the last time I checked, Ma¡¯am¡­¡± answers the boy, not particularly sounding like he could give any less of a shit ¡°¡­I¡¯ve alerted the MPs and the MOs¡­ they should arrive shortly, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Good¡­ stay here and guard him until the MPs arrive. After the MO¡¯s done treating him, send them to the Mess to have a check on Reid, Taylor.¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± I turn to Reid and, dropping the normal hardarsery, kindly say ¡°Can you stand, girl¡­?¡± She nods¡­ but makes no move to stand up. I extend my hands to her and say ¡°Alright¡­ let¡¯s get you up¡­ there¡¯s a packet in the Mess just waitin¡¯ to be turned into a hot mug of cocoa with your name on it¡­ OK, Reid?¡± She nods and takes my hands, allowing me to pull her to her feet. Not meeting my eyes, she lunges to cling to me in a cuddle, as she breaks down sobbing. ¡°Sssshshshshshsssh! It¡¯s alright now¡­ everything¡¯s fine¡­ you¡¯re niiiiice and safe!¡± I say, stroking her thick, red hair, reassuringly. Normally, allowing myself to be hugged by a trainee would be right out¡­ This isn¡¯t ¡®normally¡¯, though¡­ Remembrance, Chapter 6 of 28 ---Simone¡¯s perspective--- ---Sunday, 24th of December, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- ¡°You wanted to see me, Ma¡¯am?¡± says the pretty redhead in her melodic, Scottish accented English, as she pokes her head around the door to my office. ¡°Yes¡­ come in and sit down, Reid.¡± I answer, looking up from my work. She walks across the room and takes a seat in front of my desk. Fixing her with both my natural and bionic eyes, I plant my elbows in front of me and tent my fingers before saying ¡°It¡¯s about your survival excursion, Reid¡­¡± ¡°What about it, Ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°In light of the recent incident, I¡¯m willin¡¯ to reverse my decision and send you to the Amazon with Pvt Everard, if you want.¡± She gives a wry smile ¡°You going soft on me now, Ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°I¡¯m bein¡¯ considerate, Private¡­ Don¡¯t throw it back in my face!¡± I say, allowing a little danger into my voice. Her back stiffens as she says ¡°No, Ma¡¯am¡­ I¡­ err¡­ I just don¡¯t really understand the reason, Ma¡¯am.¡± Normally, I¡¯d say that it isn¡¯t my job to explain myself to Privates but, in this case ¡°What happened to you was a terrible injustice¡­ A man like that shoulda been weeded out in the psych eval stage and deemed unfit for service¡­ I apologise on the Military¡¯s behalf that that was allowed to happen¡­ I don¡¯t want to tell you how to feel but¡­ it would be understandable if you were a bit apprehensive about bein¡¯ secluded for five days with a tall, muscular man¡­ I know it weren¡¯t Taylor who attacked you, I know that he was the one that saved you¡­ but phobias ain¡¯t necessarily rational. It would be needlessly cruel to send a newfound androphobe on a five day survival mission with a man. Addition¡¯ly, since the incident, you¡¯ve been workin¡¯ better with Taylor¡­ you obviously still don¡¯t actually like the guy¡­ but you¡¯ve at least been able to tolerate him. I¡¯ve not seen or heard about anything worse than a little bickering between you two, since then¡­ So, your choice, go with Pvt Taylor to Interior Sahul¡­ or go to the Amazon with Private Everard?¡­ Neither of ¡¯em have to know that I ever made you this offer, Reid¡­¡± Her mouth twists as she stares at the ceiling, considering my proposal. ¡°I appreciate it, Ma¡¯am¡­ but I think I¡¯d like to refuse.¡± Surprised, I say ¡°Oh, really?¡­ Why¡¯s that, Reid?¡± ¡°I think it might cause a little strife in my dorm if Private Bailey found out I was paired with her girlfriend for the survival excursion. Don¡¯t want to get myself in the middle of a jealous lovers¡¯ spat, Ma¡¯am(!)¡± ¡°OK, what about pairing you with another female Private? Smith? Willoughby? LeClerc?¡± She smiles and shakes her head ¡°I really appreciate it, Ma¡¯am¡­ but it¡¯s fine! I¡¯ve got no apprehension about Taylor¡¯s intentions and, to be honest, I think it¡¯d feel like giving up to back out now! Like I¡¯d lost to him¡­ Also, I don¡¯t like the guy but even I can see that being paired with him is good for my training¡­ I¡¯m trying harder than I would otherwise, learning things that I wouldn¡¯t otherwise¡­ I think I want to stick with Taylor for the excursion, Ma¡¯am.¡± Really shocked by the girl¡¯s refusal (though not quite so shocked at the part that stubbornness seems to have played in her reasoning) I say ¡°Well¡­ Alright then, noted! You¡¯re free to go, Private.¡± waving to the door and turning my head back to my desk. She gets up and begins to leave. She stops at the door and says ¡°Ma¡¯am¡­?¡± ¡°Yes, Private?¡± A broad grin breaks over her face as she wishes me ¡°Merry Christmas, Ma¡¯am!¡± Mirthfully, I say ¡°Get outta here, Private!¡± She disappears, shutting my door behind her. ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Sunday, 31st of December, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ---Interior Sahul--- Just where I always wanted to spend a New Years Eve, Day and 18th birthday: Scorching, in one of Earth¡¯s few remaining desert ecoreserves with a girl who hates me for no reason(!) She¡¯s not been as bad since what happened on our watch night¡­ but still takes almost every opportunity to needle me and get under my skin! I¡¯m honestly a little shocked that Sands didn¡¯t offer her the opportunity to do this excursion with a girl after what happened¡­ Making Reid spend the best part of a week with a man she recently watched beat her attempted rapist more than half to death seems a little harsh! I guess that¡¯s an Army Drill Sergeant, for you¡­ Can¡¯t get soft on us or we might lose our respect for her! If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. The capsule comes down on a patch of land, fairly indistinguishable from that that we¡¯ve flown over for the past five minutes, since it passed from the agricultural zone into the Great Sandy Desert Reserve, hot and scrubby. The two of us step out of the cool, airconditioned capsule, through a billowing wall of heat and onto the coarse, red sand. Between us, we¡¯re carrying only eight objects, other than the clothes on our backs and the tracking devices sewn into them: a knife each, an empty canteen each, a compass each, a single plastic sheet for water purification and a single emergency recall beacon to be used in case of life-threatening emergency. Activating the beacon is an automatic failure of the survival training. I allowed Reid to be the one to take it, I didn¡¯t say anything¡­ just took a knife, a canteen and a compass and left it on the table for her to pick up. I would never try anything on anyone (least of all her) but, after what happened with Forest, I thought it was best not to put myself in the position where I might be able to hold the ability for her to call for help hostage! The military capsule takes off and begins accelerating far faster than it would if it were anywhere near a city. I see a vapour cone form in its wake and, a few seconds later, hear the boom of it exceeding Mach 1. Not really having the time to spare to watch it disappear over the horizon, I turn to Reid and placidly say ¡°Let¡¯s find somewhere to take shelter. It will be midday in a few hours and we¡¯ll get sunburned if we¡¯re out of the shade.¡± She gives no answer but a curt nod before walking off. ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- I¡¯m walking along behind the tall, dark haired boy¡­ really trying to find something to look at or think about besides his broad shoulders, thick arms and shapely arse. He is a pompous ass but damn if he doesn¡¯t have a rockin¡¯ bod(!) ¡°You know, dude¡­ we could, I don¡¯t know, chat¡­?¡± I say, looking out to the landscape to my left, so as not to have to look forward. ¡°What would we talk about, Reid?¡± he asks, flatly, without turning to look at me. ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ we¡¯re gonna be alone together until the morning of the 4th¡­ Gonna be mighty awkward if we don¡¯t say a word to eachother the whole time¡­!¡± ¡°We can talk when we need to communicate regarding matters of survival¡­ I don¡¯t know why you would want to talk to me otherwise¡­¡± ¡°Oh, nooooo¡­ Wouldn¡¯t want to distract yourself from becoming the perfect little soldier(!)¡± He doesn¡¯t respond to that except to say ¡°There¡¯s a pool over there¡­ we should collect some water¡­¡± He steers us in the direction he just pointed where, I presume, the water is, as I can¡¯t see over the brush like he can. ¡°Be careful at the water¡¯s edge¡­ there may be crocodiles in it¡­¡± he says, as we come out onto the shore of a small lake. I roll my eyes as I feel it¡¯d be so easy to spot crocs in the crystal clear water that there¡¯s no need to say it! He scans the water as we approach. Crouching down, he dips a finger in and brings it to his mouth. ¡°Tastes fine¡­ but we should purify it in a solar still anyway, just to be sure.¡± ¡°Oh, lord forbid we deviate from the book even slightly(!)¡± I say, sarcastically, bending down to fill up my flask. Ignoring me, he caps off his own flask before clipping it back to his belt. We walk on for some time. ¡°There¡¯s a cliff up there which might be a good place to find a cave to hide in¡­ you know, if sheltering in caves is acceptable to you and not forbidden by some obscure part of the survival manual that only you¡¯ve read¡­(?)¡± Taylor stops dead¡­ I might have walked into him if I weren¡¯t cutting him such a wide berth. He turns to look at me, his normally placid face frighteningly angry. ¡°What is your problem with me, Reid!?¡­ As far as I¡¯m aware, all I¡¯ve done is exist near you?!¡­ Were we sworn rivals in a past life and you¡¯re the only one that remembers it(?!)¡­ Am I the last descendant of a Christian witchhunter who tried to burn you alive in the 16th Century(?!)¡­ I struggle to believe that this could possibly be explained just by you being jealous of how much better I am at soldiery than you! Especially because you don¡¯t exactly make a secret of your contempt for all things military!¡­ So?¡­ Let¡¯s have it!¡­ Why!?¡± Utterly taken aback by the outburst, I¡¯m stunned into silence for a few moments as my mouth flaps open and closed, failing to find any words. ¡°You¡­ you showed up early¡­¡± I manage, eventually, having just realised, the moment before I said it, how feeble a reason it sounds. Looking utterly confused he answers ¡°That¡¯s IT?! You hate me for being here when you think I don¡¯t have to be?! Just for that!?!?!?¡± ¡°It¡¯s what my mam and dad did, alright!!!¡± I shout, angrily and defensively ¡°They dumped me off at an orphanage and fucked off down the recruitment office to volunteer to serve before they¡¯d been drafted! They were both dead within months of when they finished their training because the UTC had deemed them little more than fodder for the meatgrinder that was holding the Cordon at bay!¡­ When I got the news, I swore that I was going to live every second of my life that I could!¡­ Not like you! You waltzed into the military like you¡¯ve been preparing for it since the War started! Like you¡¯ve been living in bootcamp since before you hit puberty!¡­ Posh, little pretentious Englishboy who acted like he had no greater aspiration than being cannonfodder! ¡®I didn¡¯t believe I would make a good Officer, Ma¡¯am!¡¯¡­¡± I imitate his accent and wobble my head pompously ¡°¡­Looking down on the rest of us who aren¡¯t here by choice! You just got right under my skin!¡­ Did you not have any friends, any family who might¡¯ve wanted to spend the last months before you got drafted with you?!¡± He clenches his jaw, his lips pursed above his sharp chin. ¡°My mother died last Summer¡­¡± he says, flatly ¡°¡­two months later, my father hanged himself¡­ I was the one who discovered his body¡­ I had nothing to stay in Bankland for after that¡­ so I enlisted.¡± Guilt punches me in the stomach as he points out what should have been obvious¡­ he had his reasons and they were none of my business¡­ ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Taylor¡­ I¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m also not English¡­ I¡¯m a Doggerlander¡­ my father was a Frisian, my mother was Scottish, same as you¡­¡± he says, sternly. Dogger island is, in my view, basically just an extension of England¡­ but I don¡¯t say that, instead answering ¡°You¡­ uhm¡­ you sound quite English¡­?¡± lamely. ¡°Aye! An whin Ah speik Scots, Ah sound Scots!¡± he answers in flawless Lallans with a Fifer accent that, presumably, matches his mum¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry¡­ Taylor¡­¡± I say, my face hot with shame. ¡°Words are fairly cheap, Reid¡­ I don¡¯t want your apologies¡­ I want you to lay off!¡± I nod, not meeting his eyes and quietly answer ¡°Aye¡­ I¡¯ll lay off, Taylor¡­¡± ¡°Good¡­¡± he says, turning to resume walking ¡°¡­Now, as you said, I think we should look for caves in the base of that cl-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!¡± His agonised scream terrifies me more than the long, thin tube of scaley, brown flesh that just lunged from the bush, sinking its teeth into his ankle. Remembrance, Chapter 7 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Sunday, 31st of December, 2682 Terran Calendar--- ---Interior Sahul--- OK, Esme¡­ Don¡¯t think about the muscular arm wrapped around your shoulders! Don¡¯t think about the muscular chest pressed into your side! Don¡¯t think about the muscular, sweaty back that you have your arm around! Even if this weren¡¯t a serious, potentially life threatening, situation, now would still not be an appropriate time to be getting excited! You just made up with this guy after nearly two months of being a petty bitch to him for what, in hindsight, was no reason at all! ¡°Stop¡­ stop¡­¡± he says, weakly ¡°¡­I¡¯m gonna vomit¡­¡± I release him and he goes to the ground, retching. I look away as he gives me all the antiaphrodisiac I need for the moment, spewing out his guts onto the sand¡­ After a bit of dry heaving, he stands back up and looks to me¡­ his sweaty, sharp featured face sunken and sallow. ¡°I think I might be OK to walk myself, now.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re not! This isn¡¯t like alcohol poisoning! Vomiting won¡¯t do anything! If you faint without someone to break the fall, you¡¯re gonna get a head injury!¡± I say, firmly, getting under his arm to support him before he has the chance to argue. ¡°Reid¡­ I think we need to call an evac¡­ this is bad!¡± says Taylor, his deep voice reverberating against my side. ¡°Alright¡­ so call it then.¡± He freezes and looks down at me ¡°What do you mean, Reid¡­?¡± Confused, I answer ¡°You said we should call an evac¡­ so, call an evac.¡± ¡°You have the beacon, Reid¡­ I left the beacon for you¡­ Please tell me you have the beacon!¡± ¡°What?! I thought you had it! I didn¡¯t see anything on the table besides a knife, a canteen, a compass and a keyring!¡± ¡°The keyring, Reid!¡­ That was the beacon! Did you not read the manual at all!?¡­ Please tell me you have it!¡± My stomach sinking, I answer ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t, Taylor¡­ I¡¯m sorry! I left it there ¡¯cause I thought someone had dropped it by mistake!¡± Looking more resigned than angry, he says ¡°So¡­ we¡¯re going to have to survive five days with a man down and no medical treatment then¡­?¡± ¡°Looks like it, yes¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Taylor¡­ Maybe we could try walking to the agricultural band?¡± ¡°We¡¯d never make it¡­ It¡¯s hundreds of kilometres¡­ even if we were both healthy, we wouldn¡¯t get there before the capsule came to collect us!¡± he asserts. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Taylor!¡± He gives a feeble wave of his left arm and says ¡°It¡¯s done now¡­ let¡¯s just get to the cliff¡­¡± I nod and keep walking, supporting the massive man. We come up the rocky slope at the foot of the cliff. Mercifully, we¡¯re in the shade here, as the sun is fucking fierce! We spot a cavemouth and head for it. ¡°Leave me here¡­*huff*¡­ and check for snakes¡­*huff*¡­ I don¡¯t want to¡­*huff*¡­ get bitten again¡­¡± he instructs, breathlessly. I bend down to lie him on the ground and hurry into the shallow cave. I check the ceiling, the floor and every crevice I can see for snakes, spiders, scorpions or anything else that a massively envenomed person might not want nearby. I find nothing. When I turn around, I see Taylor sat up on the ground, drinking from his flask. ¡°I thought you wanted to distil that first?¡± ¡°Fuck that!¡± he says, swearing for the first time I¡¯ve heard ¡°I¡¯m going to die¡­*huff*¡­ of thirst before enough water¡­*huff*¡­ goes through a¡­*huff*¡­ solar still¡­*huff*¡­ to be useful¡­*huff*¡­ Needs¡­*huff*¡­ must!¡± before taking another glug. I look out across the landscape. The little oasis where we collected the water is still visible, despite the amount of time it¡¯s taken us to get here! I suppose it makes sense¡­ I originally pointed out this cliff from near there¡­ It just feels like we¡¯ve gone miles and miles! I suppose, progress is slow when you¡¯ve got an envenomed person slung over your shoulders! ¡°Let¡¯s get you inside, Taylor. The cave''s clean.¡± ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- I took off my sweat drenched clothes a while ago, laying them out on the rock, beside me. Reid is off, gathering firewood and hunting for anything we might eat tonight now that the sun is lower in the sky. I would definitely not recommend intentional envenoming as a means of avoiding work to any considering it! I am weak, I am sweaty, I am dizzy and nauseated and, all in all, if someone gave me the choice between feeling like this and doing a bit of gathering, they wouldn¡¯t be able to finish their sentence before I bit their hand off for the latter option! ¡°I¡¯m baaack, Taylor¡­ how¡¯re you holding-ohgoodgodyou¡¯renaked!¡± Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. I look up at the flush faced girl and blearily say ¡°And¡­ you¡¯re sunburned, Reid¡­ How did that happen¡­?¡± the sun should have been low enough by the time I said to go out that, even with her pale skin, she should have been fine. Not answering my question she turns to face away from me. ¡°I¡­ uhm¡­ err¡­ I got a tonne of deadwood for the fire¡­ dry plantmatter for kindling too¡­ and look¡­¡± she thrusts a sharpened stick with an enormous anuran creature skewered onto its end into the air ¡°¡­eating frog¡¯s not gonna be my finest moment but it¡¯ll beat starving!¡­ The daft bugger just sat there and let me spear him!¡± ¡°That¡¯s a cane toad¡­¡± I say, drowsily. ¡°Alright, eating cane toad won¡¯t be my finest moment but¡­¡± ¡°They¡¯re an invasive species, introduced to Australia in the early 20th Century as a means of controlling pests. They¡¯re rare on the continent, these days, because of centuries of consistent eradication efforts¡­¡± ¡°Why have we worked so hard to get rid of them?¡± she asks, not turning to look at me. ¡°Because of how incredibly poisonous they are to the local fauna¡­ Anything not specifically evolved to deal with their toxins is quite likely to die if it eats them.¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± she says, dejectedly ¡°¡­don¡¯t suppose we¡¯re a creature evolved to deal with them, are we?¡± ¡°We¡¯re not, no¡­ There is some part of them that¡¯s not toxic but¡­ I can¡¯t remember if it¡¯s the liver or the kidneys, I don¡¯t trust either of us to identify their liver or kidneys¡­ aaand there¡¯s a nonzero chance that I¡¯ve misremembered that and it¡¯s only their liver and/or kidneys that are toxic¡­ not worth risking for the amount of nutrition we¡¯d get.¡± ¡°So, I might as well not have killed this thing, then?¡± ¡°Nooo¡­ You¡¯re contributing to removing them from the ecosystem¡­¡± ¡°Great comfort that¡¯ll be when we¡¯ve not eaten for five days(!)¡± she observes, miserably. ¡°We¡¯ll eat¡­ you¡¯ll find something tomorrow¡­¡± ¡°Look at you¡­¡± she says, still not looking at me ¡°¡­half dead and still able to give an ecology lecture and words of encouragement!¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t looking at me, Reid¡­ why aren¡¯t you looking at me?¡± ¡°Because¡­!¡± she flusters ¡°¡­you¡¯re¡­ naked!¡± I chuckle, weakly ¡°You Christians and your prudishness! Here I am, ¡®half dead¡¯ in your words, and you¡¯re worried about seeing my penis¡­?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not a Christian anymore, thank you very much!¡­ Been an atheist since I was 14!¡± ¡°You act like a Christian, Reid¡­¡± I smile. Angrily, she turns around, her face beet red (in a way I now realise isn¡¯t from the sun) and her eyes wide, she makes a point of staring intently, up and down the length of my body. ¡°¡®Look at me(!) I¡¯m a Pagan and totally comfortable with nudity!¡¯¡± she says, doing an unflattering impression of me. ¡°I¡¯m not a Pagan, as I¡¯ve said before¡­ I am totally comfortable with nudity.¡± ¡°So you¡¯d be totes cool with me stripping off, then(!)¡± she asks in defiant accusation. ¡°Totes(!)¡­ Actually, it¡¯s probably a good idea¡­ It¡¯ll get cold at night and you¡¯ll freeze if you¡¯re sweaty!¡± She looks at me, calculating. ¡°I¡¯m gonna get the fire going¡­¡± she says, truculently ¡°¡­that¡¯ll keep us warm and dry!¡± With that, she picks up a stick, pulls out her knife and begins carving a V-notch into it. ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- Look at the fire! Look at the fire! Look at the fire! Don¡¯t look at the penis! Don¡¯t look at the abs! Don¡¯t look at the pecs! Normally, I¡¯d say it was bad practice to focus on how hungry you are in a survival situation but, right now, that¡¯s about the only thing that has a chance of keeping my mind off the nude man I¡¯m sharing the cave with! This is so embarrassing! ¡°Erm¡­ err¡­ how¡¯re you feeling?¡± I ask, not looking at him. ¡°A bit better, thank you¡­ Less nauseated than I was earlier¡­ I might be well enough to go out to gather, tomorrow¡­¡± ¡°If you were advising another pair, in the same situation as us, on whether to let the snakebit one go out and work the day after he¡¯d received a snakebite, what would you say?¡± He hesitates for a moment before answering honestly ¡°¡­I would tell them it¡¯s probably a bad idea and that the compromised one should probably regain his strength first.¡± ¡°Then what are you gonna do tomorrow?¡± He sighs ¡°I¡¯m¡­ going to rest here¡­ and let you take care of the work.¡± ¡°Daaamn right!¡± He reaches for where his clothes are, feeling them for dampness. Having establish their dryness to his satisfaction, he begins clumsily trying to dress himself. ¡°¡­*sigh*¡­Here, give it to me.¡± I say, finally, holding out my hand for the t-shirt his venom addled fingers have been guddling about with for a full minute. I meet his eyes and see the sallowness of his face. Somehow, he manages to put a cocky expression on his pallid, clammy face and ask ¡°You¡¯re going to dress me, are you?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t make it weird!¡­ You¡¯re wasting energy you don¡¯t have struggling! Let me help!¡­ That¡¯s all there is to this!¡± He gives a little shrug and hands me the garment. I figure out how to orient it and then approach him from behind. ¡°Arms up, lad.¡± He brings his arms above his head. It seems like the venom has only affected his fine and not his gross motor skills. That¡¯s¡­ encouraging? I pull the t-shirt over his thick arms, trying to view this as an entirely mechanical endeavour and not to pay attention to any of the contours of his irritatingly perfect body. ¡°Pants¡­¡± I say, holding out my hand. He clumsily grabs his boxer briefs and presents them about 30cm away from where my hand actually is. I take them and come round to his front, pulling his feet off the ledge he¡¯s sitting on. I arrange the undergarment on the floor and bring his feet to the leg holes. I hold out my hand ¡°Trousers¡­¡± ¡°Scalpel¡­ forceps¡­(!)¡± he quips, clumsily handing me his trousers. Ignoring him, I lay them out, the way I did with the pants, and bring his feet through the holes. ¡°Can you stand?¡± I ask, looking up at his face (taking a side detour around his crotch). ¡°I¡­ think so¡­¡± I stand up and hold out my hands for him. He takes them and gets up, shakily. I grab his thick arms to steady him. ¡°Alright¡­ I¡¯m gonna let go now¡­ Just say ¡®falling¡¯ if you need me to catch you, OK?¡± He nods. I let go and quickly dive down to the floor, grab his pants and trousers and yank them up over his lower half, rendering him decent again, finally. Good thing for my soaring pulse! He chuckles ¡°I really don¡¯t remember the last time I needed someone to dress me¡­! That was sort of nice¡­¡± ¡°Oh¡­ awakened something, have I?¡± I ask, flippantly, as I lower him back to the ledge ¡°Too bad! That¡¯s the last time I¡¯m dressing you unless you get bitten by another snake!¡± ¡°Are you trying to encourage me to get myself bitten on purpose?!¡± ¡°You get yourself bitten on purpose, I¡¯m leaving you for the crows(!)¡± ¡°Fair enough!¡± he laughs. We sit and watch the fire for a while. ¡°It¡¯s been a long day¡­ Feels like it¡¯s about midnight¡­ Happy New Year, Taylor¡­¡± I say. In answer he starts gently singing. pp? Happy Birthday to me Happy Birthday to me Happy Biiirthday dear Oskar Happy Birthday to me?pp Moderately concerned that the venom may be having an effect on his cognition, I ask ¡°You alright, Taylor? Who are you singing for?¡± ¡°Myself¡­ weren¡¯t you listening?¡± he says in a way that does not reassure me of his presence of mind! ¡°That¡¯s¡­ erm¡­ that¡¯s not how birthdays work, buddy! It¡¯s New Year today¡­¡± ¡°It is how birthdays work when your birthday is on the 1st of January!¡± he smirks, blearily. ¡°Your birthday¡¯s on the 1st of January?¡± ¡°Yup¡­¡± he nods. ¡°So, you¡¯re 18, now?¡± ¡°Indeed¡­ or I will be, whenever it actually turns midnight. Difficult to know without a clock.¡± ¡°Well shit, man! You should¡¯ve just told me that! I¡¯d¡¯ve sung it for you!¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have felt right, asking that¡­ When you¡¯ve been looking after me all day¡­*yawn*¡­ I¡¯d¡¯ve been embarrassed having such a beautiful girl be the only one singing for me, too¡­¡± he says, closing his eyes and lying down. Flabbergasted, I ask ¡°You¡­ you think I¡¯m beautiful?!¡± ¡°You¡¯re one of the most beautiful girls I¡¯ve ever seen¡­¡± he says, his tone of voice suggesting that he¡¯s already halfway to slumberland. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d¡¯ve got that out of him if not for the venom and the sleep deprivation! My heart is pounding in my chest, my pulse is racing and my breathing is rapid from the information I¡¯ve just come by! I can¡¯t believe the difference this day has made! Remembrance, Chapter 8 of 28 ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 1st of January, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Interior Sahul--- I¡¯m woken by loud singing. ff? Happy birthday to you Happy birthday to you Happy BIRTHDAY dear Oskar Happy birthday to you?ff My head aches and I feel exhausted from fighting the snake venom yesterday. ¡°Reid?! What the hel is going on! Why are you singing me happy birthday!?¡± The pretty Scot smiles broadly at me and says ¡°Because it¡¯s your birthday! At least¡­ that¡¯s what you told me last night! January 1st, right?¡± ¡°Uhhh¡­ yeah¡­ That¡¯s right¡­¡± I confirm. A memory then hits me. ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything¡­ else¡­ last night, did I?¡± I say, concerned, making to stand. She holds a rigid index finger in the path of my chest, making me jab myself into it. ¡°As a matter of fact, you did!¡± she says, smiling as she applies pressure to force me back into my supine position and causing every alarm bell in my body to ring, simultaneously. ¡°You said that the most sensible thing would be for you to have some R&R today¡­ so you¡¯re staying right there while I go and try to find us some food, water and firewood, Mister!¡± ¡°Erm¡­ who exactly are you and what have you done with Esme Reid?¡± I frown. ¡°Shush!¡± she says, playfully slapping my chest before getting up and saying ¡°I¡¯m going now¡­ Try to get some rest¡­ Oh and¡­¡± she stops to turn back ¡°¡­happy birthday again, Oskar!¡­ 18! You¡¯re stuck with me now, aren¡¯t you(!)¡­ Can¡¯t just quit and wait to be reconscripted anymore!¡± With a giggle, she disappears out of the cave, both of our canteens rattling on her belt as she goes. It takes me several, long seconds of rubbing the place on my chest that she poked to realise ¡°Wait¡­ did she just call me ¡®Oskar¡¯!?¡± ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- Beautiful¡­ beautiful¡­ beautiful! He called me ¡®beautiful¡¯! ¡®One of the most beautiful girls he¡¯s ever seen!¡¯ were his exact words! Suuure¡­ he was off his tits on snake venom at the time but¡­ well, he managed to get his birthday right, didn¡¯t he! It would be a strangely abstract thing to confabulate, wouldn¡¯t it! I¡¯d be a liar if I said that I hadn¡¯t noticed what an absolutely drop dead gorgeous babe he was, even before our little make up session yesterday! My stomach growls, not liking the attention I¡¯m paying to things that are not food! ¡°I know, I know¡­ I¡¯m looking!¡± I say back, reproachfully. I look around and¡­ then I see something¡­ Different parts of me feel differently about this thing¡­ My feet want to take me as far away from it as it is possible to get! My mouth, on the other hand¡­ well, I always thought it wasn¡¯t really possible for an adult to salivate hard enough to drool¡­ Turns out that you can if you¡¯re hungry enough. I walk up to the enormous lizard, sunning itself on a rock. That thing looks like a fucking dinosaur! My stomach roils and my heart is in my throat as it lazily turns to look at me and hisses, threateningly. Pointing the sharpened, firehardened stick at the monster, I say ¡°I really hope you¡¯re not poisonous, dude¡­ Apologies in advance if you are!¡± ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ¡°Yo!¡± comes a voice from outside the cave. I look up to see Reid enter with an enormous perentie slung over her shoulders. She¡¯s speared it through the head and chest¡­ multiple times, as well as seeming to have severed its spinal cord with her knife for good measure. ¡°Gods, Reid¡­ what did that thing ever do to you(!)¡± Not seeming particularly in the mood for jokes, she answers ¡°Be made of meat, be really scary and be very strong when I was killing it was what it did!¡­ I did not like the idea of it miraculously coming back to life while I was carrying it!¡­ Please tell me this bastard is edible and I didn¡¯t kill it for nothing!¡± ¡°Erm¡­ well¡­ they have a venomous bite¡­ and their mouths are also bacterial cesspits¡­¡± her face sinks ¡°¡­buuut¡­¡± I continue, causing her to perk back up ¡°¡­people do eat monitor lizards¡­ Let¡¯s maybe just avoid the head, since we don¡¯t know what we¡¯re doing with it.¡± Her face lights up ¡°So¡­ I did good?¡± ¡°Err¡­ yeah¡­¡± I respond, uncertainly. She keeps staring at me, expectantly. ¡°Are you¡­ err¡­ waiting for something?¡± I ask, concerned by whatever it is I¡¯m missing. ¡°*sigh*¡­Praise, stupid!¡­ Honestly! How d¡¯you ever expect to get any girl to like you if you don¡¯t praise her!¡± For a second, I almost point out that, as a bisexual, I don¡¯t necessarily need to get girls to like me but¡­ well¡­ I stop myself just in time¡­ Something tells me that that would be the wrong thing to say right now¡­ ¡°You did very well in killing this lizard!¡­ I¡¯m incredibly impressed, Reid!¡± ¡°Esme¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°My name¡¯s ¡®Esme¡¯, Oskar¡­ I¡¯d prefer you call me that¡­¡± she says, staring at me with an intense but impenetrable expression. ¡°O¡­K¡­? I¡¯m incredibly impressed¡­ Esme¡­?¡± She smiles broadly, her unnerving expression disappearing ¡°Good!¡­ Now, I¡¯m going to go and gather some firewood for tonight before the sun gets too hot¡­ If you¡¯ve got your motor control back and have the strength for it, maybe you could dress the carcass?¡­ If not, don¡¯t worry¡­ I¡¯ll do it when I get back!¡± I watch as she leaves, my brow furrowed and my mouth hanging open in confusion. ¡°Seriously¡­ Who the hel is that and where the hel is Reid!?¡± I mutter to myself. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- OK, seriously girl! Get a hold of yourself! Hot guy calls you ¡®beautiful¡¯ and you turn into a giddy schoolgirl! ¡°I¡­ err¡­ I dug a solar still¡­ my flask is in there filling up with clean water, right now¡­ I hope you don¡¯t mind sharing yours with me, for tonight?¡± while I definitely don¡¯t think about how your lips are touching it and my lips are touching it and then your lips are touching it again(!) ¡°No problem, Rei¡­ Esme¡­ Good work today!¡± he says, poking the lizard flank as it cooks on the coals. ¡°How¡­ how¡¯re you feeling?¡± I ask before taking a bite of oily tail that tastes like bitter chicken meat. ¡°The bite you mean?¡­ Yeah, definitely still not 100% but I should be good to get to work tomorrow¡­ Thanks for looking after me¡­¡± ¡°I was happy to¡­¡± I say, honestly. Then, I realise something ¡°Did I ever thank you?¡± ¡°For what?¡± he asks, turning to me with his eyebrow raised. ¡°For¡­ you know¡­ saving me¡­ from Forest¡­¡± ¡°Oh¡­ that! I¡­ don¡¯t think you did¡­ Don¡¯t worry about it¡­ I didn¡¯t do it to be thanked.¡± ¡°Regardless¡­ Thank you, Oskar¡­¡± I smile, placing my hand on his muscular forearm ¡°¡­You really saved me!¡± He waves a ¡®forget about it¡¯ motion with his other hand. ¡°I¡¯m also¡­ sorry I¡¯ve been so horrible to you since we started training¡­ I was projecting my own personal issues on you in a way you didn¡¯t deserve¡­¡± ¡°Listen, Reid¡­ it¡¯s fine! We¡¯re all good!¡± he grins. ¡°Esme¡­¡± I correct. ¡°Sorry¡­ Esme¡­¡± He takes the shank off the fire and takes a bite. There really wasn¡¯t all that much useable meat on the thing¡­ It felt heavy as a dead donkey when I carried it back but we¡¯re already a third of the way through the meat that hasn¡¯t been put in the ¡®dubious¡¯ pile! ¡°Let¡¯s save the rest¡­¡± says Oskar, clearly echoing my thoughts, before offering me the shank and eying up his flask ¡°¡­Trade?¡± I pick up the flask and take one last swig from it before I swap it for the meat. ¡°You know¡­¡± he says, bringing his lips to the rim that my lips were touching a few seconds ago, making my heart flutter ¡°¡­I¡¯m quite surprised Sands made you go through with this¡­¡± ¡°Sorry?¡± He gestures around ¡°On coming here with me¡­ After what happened, I would have assumed that she would¡¯ve offered you the opportunity to go with a girl¡­ Seems quite cruel to force you to be alone with a guy for so long, after what happened¡­ Especially as it¡¯s a guy you watched beat someone half to death the other week¡­ I don¡¯t know, I feel like building team spirit ought to take a backseat in that scenario¡­ She should have given you the choice¡­¡± ¡°She¡­ did¡­¡± I admit, my face hot. He looks at me, confused ¡°She did what?¡± ¡°She offered me the opportunity to go with Everard¡­¡± ¡°No¡­¡± he frowns ¡°¡­she can¡¯t have!¡­ You would have taken it if she had!¡± I shake my head ¡°I said I didn¡¯t want to upset dorm harmony by being alone with Bailey¡¯s girlfriend.¡± ¡°Then¡­ she should have offered you another girl to go with! She still forced you to go with me!¡± I shake my head ¡°She offered that, too¡­ I made excuses¡­¡± ¡°Why?¡± he asks, utterly bewildered. ¡°When I thought of going with anyone else¡­ when I thought of you going with anyone else¡­ I just got this¡­ this, like¡­ pit of discomfort in my stomach¡­ I said it was rivalry to Sands¡­ told her I didn¡¯t want to lose to you¡­ I probably believed it at the time¡­¡± His brow creases ¡°And¡­ what do you believe now, Esme¡­?¡± I give him a sly smile and ask ¡°¡­Do you want me to tell you¡­ or do you want me to show you?¡± ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- The firehaired girl puts down the meat I just gave her and crawls, slowly, toward me. I¡¯m frozen in place as she brings her right leg over my lap and straddles me. She runs her hands up my chest and brings her absolutely stunning face an inch from mine. I find it hard to meet her unblinking, emerald eyes as her hot breath breaks against my lower face. I can hear how she shudders even if I couldn¡¯t feel it! She dives forward to press her lips against mine! She kisses me, fiercely, passionately! My mind goes utterly blank as I kiss her back. Gods, she feels amazing to hold! Her lips feel and taste incredible! Her warmth against my body feels sublime! Then¡­ a horrid thought occurs to me. Pulling her off me, I say ¡°Waitwaitwaitwaitwait¡­!¡± ¡°What¡­?¡± she asks, breathlessly. ¡°If you¡¯re only doing this out of some sort of sense of obligation for me saving you from Forest then¡­¡± I don¡¯t get a chance to finish before her seraphic features twist into a scowl as she chides ¡°Dude!?¡­ Have a fucking spine!¡­ I don¡¯t want to fuck you because of some stupid debt! As far as I¡¯m concerned, you saved me from Forest, I killed a fucking dinosaur to feed you after you stepped on a venomous snake! We¡¯re square!¡­ Honestly, Oskar! Way to kill the mood!¡­ Now¡­ you¡¯ve got, in your words, ¡®one of the most beautiful girls you¡¯ve ever seen¡¯ on your lap¡­ What do you want to do about that fact!?¡± So I didn¡¯t dream telling her that¡­ Eventually, I manage to muster ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ never done it before¡­¡± ¡°Snap¡­!¡± she smiles. ¡°If¡­ you want this¡­?¡± ¡°I want this.¡± she says, sternly. ¡°Then¡­ gods yes!¡± She grins ¡°Arms up, lad!¡± After taking a second to figure out what that means, it clicks and I raise my arms. She reaches to the hem of my t-shirt and pulls it off. When I¡¯m able to see again, I see her eyes transfixed on my chest. ¡°Christ!¡­ These muscles!¡± she exclaims, running her hand over my pectorals, jingling my dogtags as she pushes them out of the way ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you got any Neanderthal in you with that glasscutting chinspur, do you¡­?¡± ¡°Erm¡­ A 16th on my mum¡¯s side¡­¡± I say, hesitantly. ¡°Snap again!¡± she smiles, still looking at the chest she¡¯s feeling up ¡°My dad¡¯s side for me!¡± ¡°I¡­ err¡­ don¡¯t think my admixture has much to do with my muscles, though¡­¡± She shrugs ¡°Muscles are muscles¡­¡± and opens her mouth to bite my pectoral. I gasp in surprise and she gives a mischievous giggle, mouth still full of my flesh. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s any chance of¡­ your top coming off at any point, is there?¡± I ask, tentatively. Releasing her bite, she straightens up and smirks ¡°Oh¡­ I¡¯m sorry, lad(!)¡­ Where are my manners(!)¡± She reaches to the hem of her t-shirt and pulls it off, over her head, in a single, fluid motion. I give a trembling exhale as I admire her gorgeous, bare upper body. Her pale skin is pristine and blemishless. Her slender frame belies the quantity of muscle-tone she¡¯s, presumably, acquired, mostly in the last 7 weeks. Her breasts aren¡¯t large but they¡¯re shapely, round, high and prominent. She smirks as she reaches behind herself, unclipping her bra and letting the straps fall loose. Pressing the cups to her chest beneath the dogtags hanging from her neck, she grins as she shrugs the straps over her shoulders and then lets her hands fall. Obviously, as the child of Norse Pantheonists, this is not the first pare of bare tits I¡¯ve ever seen in my life¡­ but this is the first pair of tits I¡¯ve seen in a sexual context¡­ Something about knowing that the reason her breasts are bare is because she wants me to see them transforms the experience considerably! She grabs my wrists and brings my hands to her chest. I look up at her face and see it¡¯s twisted into a sultry smirk. She releases my wrists and leans into my hands. ¡°Oh¡­!¡± she says, keeping her lips pursed in the ¡®O¡¯ shape as she looks down ¡°¡­it seems, you¡¯ve got a little friend who¡¯d like to join the fun(!)¡­ Though¡­ based on what I saw yesterday¡­ I¡¯m not exactly sure that ¡®little¡¯ is the right word(!)¡­ Shall we let your (not so little) friend out, lad?¡± I gulp down a mouthful of saliva and nod, silently. Grinning, she reaches to the waist of my trousers and digs her fingers in, applying pressure to pull down both them and my pants. My glans catches in the waistband of my boxers and my ? erect cock bends before springing up to slap against my stomach. ¡°Oh!¡± she says, sounding genuinely shocked ¡°¡®Not so little¡¯ is right!¡± ¡°How would you know?¡± I ask, slightly breathless from my racing pulse. She smiles up at me and gives my stomach a reassuring pat ¡°Porn exists, dude!¡­ Though, now that I think about it, that makes you impressive by pornstar standards!¡­ Would you mind if I¡­?¡± She points to my cock and raises her eyebrows like I¡¯m supposed to already know how that sentence ends. ¡°If you what?¡± ¡°If I have a little taste of you?¡± Slightly revolted, I answer ¡°I¡­ haven¡¯t washed since yesterday morning¡­ I¡¯ll probably taste really sweaty!¡± letting her know with my tone that she really doesn¡¯t have to do that on my account! ¡°I don¡¯t mind¡­¡± she smiles, opening her mouth wide and bringing it to the tip of my manhood. She touches her tongue to my glans and smiles before pushing me as far into her mouth as she can before her gag reflex stops her from continuing. She pulls her mouth back up and off with a *pop*, leaving the top 40% or so of my length drenched in her saliva. She brings her hand to the wet portion and strokes the moisture down to cover the entire shaft. ¡°Lubrication¡­¡± she explains, in response to my confused expression ¡°¡­this thing is gonna go inside me, I want all the help I can get(!)¡± She stands and I take the opportunity to fully slide off my lowers before looking up. She smirks down at me and slides her thumbs into her trousers. She pulls them over her hips and drops them to the floor, leaving her clad only in her panties. Gods, I feel like I might be in danger of a heart attack! My musing about whether it might, potentially, be a bad idea to lose my virginity so soon after receiving a snakebite (thus allowing symptoms to be disguised by my arousal or my arousal to trigger symptoms) is banished from my mind by her panties hitting the red stone floor of the cave! She begins bending, to bring her hips to mine, before reconsidering and standing back up. My heart sinks for a moment and I¡¯m about to ask what the problem is when she reaches to the back of her head and begins working at something. Her dominant left hand comes away with a small ring of elasticated fabric¡­ which she drops on her clothes. She releases her hair and shakes her head to loosen it from its ponytail. This is the first time I¡¯ve seen her hair liberated and the effect is astonishing! Her head of curly red hair is, by far, the most voluminous I¡¯ve ever seen on any Human being! She swoops down on me, sandwiching my shaft between my trunk and her labia. Her hands on my shoulders, she raises her hips, bringing them to the point where my tip rests against her opening. ¡°Ready?¡± she smiles. ¡°Never been more ready for anything!¡± I chuckle, breathlessly. She bares her teeth¡­ and brings down her hips! Remembrance, Chapter 9 of 28 ---Simone¡¯s perspective--- ---Thursday, 4th of January, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- ¡°So¡­ let me get this straight¡­¡± I say, frowning at the pair before me ¡°¡­Within an hour of landin¡¯, you¡­¡± I point at the tall, dark haired boy ¡°¡­were bitten by a king brown snake and were laid up for the next two days, unable to contribute more than advice to Reid while she did all the heavy liftin¡¯¡­ You weren¡¯t able to call an evac because, between the two of you, you¡¯d managed to leave the beacon you should have had here in Graffham¡­ and you think I should pass you for that, do you Privates?¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am!¡± answers the redhead. ¡°Why should I pass you for that, Reid?¡± ¡°We fulfilled the terms of the assignment: We survived the full five days in the environment we were dropped in using only the allowed equipment and without calling for an emergency evac, Ma¡¯am.¡± answers the Scot, straight faced, somehow. ¡°You admit that you would have called an evac if you could have, Private?¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am¡­ but we couldn¡¯t so we didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°You admit that it was your own shared stupidity that meant that you didn¡¯t have a beacon with you when you went, Privates?¡± I ask, drily. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t believe lack of stupidity was a requirement of the test, Ma¡¯am.¡± answers Reid, cheekily. ¡°Guess again, Private! Lack of stupidity is always a requirement in the Military! Stupid Soldiers are dead Soldiers!¡± I correct, sternly. ¡°My mistake, Ma¡¯am.¡± apologises Reid, hastily. My anger subsides as I say ¡°Buuut¡­ as you say¡­ you did make it out alive¡­ you didn¡¯t call an evac, even if only as a result of bein¡¯ stranded by stupidity¡­ and¡­¡± I take a sniff and then chuckle ¡°¡­it certainly smells like you two are gettin¡¯ along better than you were when you left¡­(!)¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure what¡­?¡± starts Reid but I cut her off. ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb, Private!¡­ You¡¯ve tried to wash it off but I¡¯m half Tshwane¡­ you can¡¯t fool this nose!¡± The pair shift uncomfortably before I reassure them ¡°Relax! You¡¯re not breakin¡¯ any rules¡­ So long as this relationship doesn¡¯t negatively affect either of your performances, we have no issue¡­ I also trust this means you two won¡¯t be at eachother¡¯s throats so much¡­ At least, in public¡­ don¡¯t really much care what you¡¯re into doin¡¯ in the privacy of a bedroom¡­ or a cave, as the case may be(!)¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s safe to say our rivalry is a thing of the past, Ma¡¯am.¡± provides Taylor. ¡°Or shifted onto much friendlier terms, at least¡­¡± smirks Reid. ¡°Good¡­¡± I turn to Taylor ¡°¡­Taylor, now you¡¯ve reached the age of majority, you¡¯re eligible to be moved to a bunk in a shared room¡­¡± His face falls, clearly having hoped I¡¯d forget about that. ¡°¡­but¡­¡± I continue, causing him to perk back up ¡°¡­I¡¯m a busy woman and assignin¡¯ you one is able to remain low on my list of priorities¡­ so long as you (or Reid) aren¡¯t givin¡¯ me the impression that you might benefit from more rest, that is!¡­ Do we understand eachother, Taylor?¡± The boy gives me a rare smile and answers ¡°We understand eachother perfectly, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Good!¡­ You are dismissed, Privates.¡± The two of them turn to go. ¡°Oh, and, Privates?¡± They both turn to look at me, expectantly. ¡°Happy New Year¡­¡± ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ---Friday, 5th of January, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯ve been sleeping in a conjugal room this whole time!¡± I grin at the handsome man, currently acting as my mattress in the broomcupboard sized space. ¡°Technically, it wasn¡¯t a conjugal room¡­ it was designated as a private room for me, since I was a minor¡­¡± he smiles without opening his eyes. ¡°Oh, aye(!) Let¡¯s protect the wee baby boy from any indecency by putting him in the rooms where he¡¯ll be able to hear all the sex through the paper thin walls, every night(!) I see no issue here(!)¡± He shakes his head ¡°It wasn¡¯t that bad¡­¡± ¡°Oh it wasn¡¯t, was it(?)¡­ You nasty little perv(!)¡± I smirk, mischievously. ¡°Most of the time¡­ people are some combination of embarrassed and considerate enough to keep the noise down¡­ It¡¯s rare that I would have out and out screamers next door¡­ That¡¯s all I meant¡­¡± ¡°Attention all:¡­¡± comes Sands¡¯ voice, making the morning wake up call over the PA ¡°¡­It is now 0630hrs¡­ Time to wake up!¡­ After breakfast, you are to assemble in the yard. Father Christmas came by last night to drop off some late presents for all of you(!)¡± ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- I find the crate that has my name on, shaped (ghoulishly) somewhat like one of the wooden boxes that Christians bury their dead in. I pick it up and carry it aside¡­ it¡¯s heavy! Looking around for someone who¡¯s done using one of the crowbars that are being passed around, I make eyecontact with Milligan. He raises the length of metal he holds, proffering it to me. I take it, appreciatively, and thrust the claw end between the box and its lid. What is inside does nothing to dispel the ghoulishness of the container¡¯s outward appearance¡­ The box contains a humanoid figure, almost my exact height and build, rendered in jet black metal with a rippling, wootz pattern. ¡°Fresh off the forges of Ivaldason and Sons¡¯ Durasteel Foundry, Iceland¡­¡± announces Sands, strolling through the throngs of people opening their respective crates ¡°¡­Between 20 and 30kg each, dependin¡¯ on your proportions¡­ Wearin¡¯ this armour, you become nearly as close to indestructible as it is possible to get without enterin¡¯ the realm of divinity!¡­ These suits are bulletproof and bombproof!¡­ They do have some limitations¡­ they¡¯ll not, for instance, protect you from a long drop and a sudden stop! Your organs will still be rendered into slurry in that case¡­ Neither¡¯ll they protect you from bein'' cut in half with a plasmasword!¡­ From now on, you¡¯ll wear these from dawn to dusk! Classes may be taken with your helmets off¡­ Durin¡¯ PT, however, you WILL wear them in their entirety!¡­ It¡¯ll be hard to begin with but, after less time than you think, your bodies¡¯ll have acclimatised to the extra weight¡­ and you¡¯ll find movin¡¯ in these almost as easy as movin¡¯ out of ¡¯em!¡­ This mornin¡¯s workshop¡¯ll be an instructional on how to properly don, remove and maintain your armour!¡­ Do please give it all your attention!" ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Tuesday, 9th of January, 2683 Terran Calendar--- This is HELL! The armour is perfectly fitting and nicely padded¡­ but it¡¯s so fucking heavy to wear that I can¡¯t think about much more than how sweaty I am and how much my muscles ache from the days I¡¯ve already been wearing it! Sands said we¡¯d get used to it sooner than we thought but, so far, I feel like exhaustion is making me worse, day on day! I had to go and sleep in my dormroom last night because I was just too exhausted to engage in any¡­ extracurricular exercise with Oskar(!) He was quite understanding about it¡­ A little too understanding¡­ I wish he¡¯d seemed at least a touch disappointed! Back in the present moment, the black metal giant (boosted to over 2m by the height he gains from the boots and helmet) rams the tip of his training sword into my solar plexus¡­ the one upside is that I¡¯ll probably get less bruises wearing this armour! ¡°Hey¡­!¡± ¡°You¡¯re dead, Esme¡­¡± is the only answer that comes from that expressionless helmet. ¡°You not feel like going a little easier on me now, Oskar?!¡­ I am your girlfriend!!!¡± ¡°Caring more about you makes me wish to see you better able to protect yourself¡­ So, no¡­ I¡¯m not going to coddle you¡­¡± ¡°Perfectly logical¡­(!)¡± I mock in a flat, midAtlantic accent, holding up my right palm, the ring and little finger splayed from the middle and index. ¡°Change partner!¡± shouts Sands. Not too long ago, my heart would have leapt at that instruction and I would have utterly squashed any feeling of disappointment¡­ Now, however, it causes my already flagging morale to vaporise! Of course¡­ it makes sense¡­ If you only ever fight with one partner, you only ever learn to fight one way¡­ I shuffle along while Oskar stays where he is. The next partner I¡¯m up against is Kilroy¡­ I might have a chance of holding my own against him at least! Remembrance, Chapter 10 of 28 ---Simone¡¯s perspective--- ---Thursday, 15th of March, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- ¡°Three days you want, Privates?¡± I ask, my mouth curled as I look down at the requests on my desk in front of me, then up, at the pair that have submitted them. ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± replies the redhead who, when she first came here, I identified as a slacker and a problem recruit. Recently though, she¡¯s been born again and now consistently gets toward the tops of the rankings¡­ seems like the problem was one of application! ¡°You remember me tellin¡¯ you, when you arrived here, that leave of more than two consecutive days would not be approved?¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°And what exactly is it that makes you think I¡¯ll make an exception in this case, Privates?¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am¡­?¡± I roll my eyes ¡°Make your case!¡­ Why should I allow this, Private?¡± ¡°My¡­ my best friend is getting married, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Congrats to them!¡­ Is it a three day long ceremony?¡± I respond, my eyes narrow. ¡°It¡¯s a one day long ceremony, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Then why have you asked for three, Private?¡± I query, leaning back in my chair. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ asked me to be the maid of honour, Ma¡¯am¡­ I¡¯d like to go up on the Friday to help with the prep, sleep there, then participate in the ceremony and the reception, sleep there that night as well and come back on the Sunday, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°And Taylor would be comiiin¡¯¡­?¡± ¡°As my plus one, Ma¡¯am.¡± I tap an index finger against my chin while I consider that. ¡°If I told you I was only gonna give you two days¡­ which days would you pick, Reid?¡± ¡°Friday and Saturday, Ma¡¯am.¡± she answers, instantly. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s more important that I pitch in with the prep than get to party late, Ma¡¯am.¡± I like that answer¡­ ¡°If you¡¯d made this request in December, Reid¡­ I¡¯d¡¯ve denied it instantly!¡­ I¡¯d¡¯ve thought that a truculent little sod like you would use three days of leave to desert and disappear¡­ but¡­ I have to say, since you came back from Australia, you¡¯ve really turned yourself around!¡­You¡¯ve impressed me¡­ and I don¡¯t consider myself to be a woman who impresses easy!¡± I let my words hang in the air while I stare down the pair, both looking over my head. ¡°Take the leave, Privates¡­ Conditional on you continuin¡¯ to impress me, o¡¯course!¡­ And I expect you both back here, bright eyed and bushy tailed, on the Monday mornin¡¯!¡± A broad grin breaks over the Scottish girl¡¯s face. Even her (usually inexpressive) boyfriend cracks a smile. ¡°We won¡¯t let you down, Ma¡¯am!¡± declares the girl. ¡°Not if you know what¡¯s good for you, you won¡¯t, Private! Dismissed¡­¡± ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Friday, 11th of May, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southwestern Scotland--- We could have been there in 30 minutes if Esme had let me pay for a capsule for us. She insisted that you don¡¯t pay for what you could have for free at a bare minimum of effort, so we woke at 6:30am, same as always, took a 35 minute monorail to London, a 40 minute one from there to Newcastle, a 35 minute ride to Carlisle and now, finally, we¡¯re on a monorail, streaking over the forested hills approaching her hometown. It doesn¡¯t sound like that much but, all told, once you factor in all the walking between platforms and waiting for trains, it adds up to nearly three hours it¡¯s taken us to get from Graffham to here! It¡¯s May and there are still patches of snow on the ground so far north! Esme squeezes my hand. I look to where she sits, smiling at me. She looks¡­ good in her service uniform¡­ it suits her better than combat fatigues¡­ not quite as well as her armour. ¡°Nervous?¡± she asks. ¡°Yes¡­¡± I confess. ¡°Whyyy?¡± she asks, playfully leaning her bereted head on my shoulder. ¡°Because¡­ you despised me when we first met¡­ and I¡¯m worried that all these people might do as well¡­¡± She gives a mirthful puff ¡°Think that was really more of a me thing than a Scot thing or a Stranraerarian thing(!)¡­ You¡¯ll be fine!¡­ They¡¯re gonna love you!¡± Just as we pass by twin lochs with an ancient, ruined castle and a stunningly colourful garden nestled between them on our right, the town comes into view, Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Stretching away to the north, nestled into a wide valley, is Esme¡¯s hometown. The train stops at the station and she gives me a nudge. ¡°Come on¡­ Let¡¯s go, lad¡­¡± she smiles. I grab my overnight bag and we step off the train, onto the platform, then walk down the stairs to street level. ¡°We¡¯ll need to get a capsule across town¡­ It¡¯d be a bit of a trek to mine, I¡¯m afraid¡­ The station was built during the Reset, when most of Glen Ryan was still ¡®Loch Ryan¡¯!¡­ The orphanage was built much more recently, all the way out at the coast, so it¡¯s too inconvenient to walk to¡­¡± she says, steering us to a bank of capsule pods, lined up by the station. I take an exasperated inhale and ask ¡°¡­So¡­ all that work to not spend money on the journey¡­ and we end up taking a capsule the last few kilometres anyway?¡± ¡°Yeaaah¡­¡± she frowns, before saying ¡°¡­but it¡¯s pennies compared to what we would¡¯ve spent to come all the way!¡± defensively. I chuckle and say ¡°Fine¡­ lets go and render an entire morning¡¯s worth of travel pointless!¡± ¡°Some of us didn¡¯t grow up rich, poshboy(!)¡± she teases. ¡°I¡¯m not rich! My family were never ¡®rich¡¯!¡± We get into a capsule and a robotic voice asks ¡°Please state your destination.¡± ¡°Pinehill Residential Children¡¯s Home¡­¡± she states, causing the pod to raise above the rooflevel and begin accelerating north. Then she turns back to me and, continuing her tease, says ¡°You sound rich, Oskar(!)¡± ¡°Being well spoken does not equal being rich!¡± ¡°¡®Well spoken¡¯ is something that posh people made up to not have to call themselves ¡®posh¡¯, poshboy(!)¡± ¡°This is quite a normal, neutral accent in Doggerland!¡­ You are the first person who¡¯s ever called me ¡®posh¡¯, Esme.¡± I smile, exhaustedly. ¡°To your face, maybe¡­(!)¡± she grins. ¡°We have reached your destination.¡± states the capsule as it sets us down on a landing pad, a few hundred metres from the sea. We step off and Esme¡¯s holo *pings*, presumably notifying her of the fare that was just deducted from it. She leads us up the street to a six storey building made of stone, perched atop a little hillock and visible through an absolutely gorgeous little forest of scots pines. She opens the gate and gestures up the path. ¡°You grew up here and you¡¯re teasing me about being posh?¡± I ask, dryly ¡°This place looks like it¡¯s right out of a faerie tale¡­(!)¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ didn¡¯t own the orphanage, surprising as that might be to hear(!)¡± she shoots back, smiling crookedly. We draw near and the door opens. The man that steps out is a little above average height but built like a Denisovan! Despite his face telling me he¡¯s no less Sapiens than me or Esme, his shoulders and hips are broad, his limbs are thick and his chest is deep! He¡¯s got a wild mane of shaggy, medium length, grey hair and a short grey beard. His fierce eyes are a piercing brown colour! Seeing Esme, his beard twists into a smile around his mouth. ¡°Mimi!¡± he booms. Mimi? Esme smiles back and throws out her arms ¡°Rabbie!¡± She tosses me her bag without looking to see that I catch it (which I do) and runs at the massive man! Though he grunts with the force of her impact, the transfer of momentum seems entirely onesided. He¡¯s barely even jostled by the 178cm woman impacting him, simply scooping her off the ground into a bearhug! ¡°Good to see you, lassie!¡± he says in a dialect I don¡¯t think an English speaker without fairly extensive exposure to spoken Scots would be able to get more than the gist of! He puts her down after a few seconds and says ¡°Alright, alright¡­ Let me get a look at you!¡± She stands back, beaming at him. ¡°Wow¡­ a proper little soldier now, aren¡¯t you!?¡­ Give us a twirl¡­¡± She spins around for him. ¡°That uniform looks like it was made for you to wear it!¡­ And, do my eyes deceive me or are you less skinny than when you left here!¡± She blushes ¡°Yeah¡­ I gained some weight¡­ all muscle though!¡± He laughs ¡°I¡¯m just glad you don¡¯t resemble a willow branch so much as you did!¡­ I was always trying to get you to eat more!¡­ Turns out, I just needed to run you through multiple hours of exercise every day to fix your appetite(!)¡± She nods ¡°That certainly did it!¡± At this point, he turns to me ¡°And who might this be, Mimi?¡± Esme points to the stocky man and says ¡°Oskar, this is Robert ¡®Burns¡¯ Baird¡­ he¡¯s the manager here and one of my favourite people in the world¡­!¡± She gestures to my chest and says ¡°Rabbie, this is Oskar Taylor¡­ my boyfriend¡­¡± I extend my hand ¡°It¡¯s an honour to meet you, Sir.¡± He grips my hand in the most crushing handshake I¡¯ve ever been subjected to and says ¡°Pleasure¡¯s all mine, laddie!¡± while I do my best not to get my metatarsals fractured. He releases my hand and nods his approval ¡°Good handshake!¡­ Nice and firm!¡­ Can¡¯t stand a limp, dead-fish handshake!¡± Turning back to Esme, he asks ¡°He treat you right, lassie?¡± his tone taking a serious turn. Melodramatically, she throws the back of her hand to her forehead and says ¡°No, Rabbie(!) He beats me terribly(!)¡± ¡°In training!¡± I correct, hurriedly, not wanting her to say things like that even in jest ¡°When we spar, I usually win!¡­ Outside of training, I¡¯m usually the one who receives the violence!¡± His vast chest bounces mirthfully as he observes ¡°That sounds like Mimi alright!¡± ¡°Is she here¡­?!¡± comes a feminine voice from inside the building, just ahead of a grey furred Felis girl appearing. Esme and the Felis shriek upon seeing one another and run to embrace eachother. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re actually here, Mimi!¡± ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re actually getting married, Tommie!¡­ If it weren¡¯t for the biological implausibility of it, I¡¯d say that Rex must¡¯ve knocked you up for you to be getting married at 18!¡± ¡°Shush now¡­¡± the cat girl reproaches ¡°¡­there¡¯s a War on¡­ The rules are different¡­ No use putting things off till tomorrow when there might not be one, is there!¡± The cuddle breaks apart and the Felis turns her amber eyes to me, giving me a brief flash of the tapeta lucida behind her retinae ¡°Who¡¯s this, Mimi¡­? When you said you were bringing a plus one, I sort of assumed it¡¯d be a girl for some reason¡­ Not a tall, handsome, muscular gentleman!¡± The stress that she places on the word ¡®muscular¡¯ makes it abundantly clear that she is quite aware of Esme¡¯s proclivities. ¡°Tommie, this is Oskar Taylor. He¡¯s my boyfriend. Oskar, this is Tamsin Quinn, she¡¯s the one we¡¯re here for.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure, Ms Quinn.¡± I say, extending my hand for a handshake that, mercifully, isn¡¯t at all bonecrushing! ¡°Oh¡­! Such a gentleman!¡± she says, toning down the Scots considerably upon hearing my accent ¡°I didn¡¯t expect that of you, Ms Reid(!)¡­ Where did you find this one?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to speak English for him, Tommie¡­ He knows Lallans just fine!¡± smirks Esme. ¡°Oh, he does, does he?!¡± says Quinn, looking at me curiously ¡°Where are you from, Mr Taylor?¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ from Doggerland but¡­ my mother was from Dunfermline¡­ This is my natural accent, though, as Esme says, I can understand Scots just fine¡­ I just tend not to register shift unless I¡¯m having a problem with communicating myself to a Scots speaker¡­¡± ¡°Oh¡­ how come?¡± she asks, tilting her head. ¡°I¡­ worry I might offend whomever I¡¯m talking with¡­ Most Scots understand English perfectly well¡­ If I shift into Scots when it isn¡¯t necessary, I worry that it may be taken as mockery¡­¡± ¡°An¡­ interesting take¡­¡± she says, scrutinising me. There follow a few seconds of silence before Esme interjects ¡°Tommie! We came to help with the prep. You gonna show us what needs doing?¡± Remembrance, Chapter 11 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Friday, 11th of May, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southwestern Scotland--- ¡°You¡¯ll be sleeping separately, kids!¡± says the grey haired man, sternly. I¡¯m pleased to see Oskar looking a little disappointed as he starts ¡°Oh¡­ of course, Sir¡­ That¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t tease, Rabbie!¡­ Oskar¡¯s a robot(!) He can¡¯t tell you¡¯re joking!¡± His face creases with laughter as he says ¡°Yeah¡­ we don¡¯t have the space for you to sleep separate, lad!¡­ Honestly, Mimi¡¯s lucky her rooms still up for grabs¡­ I was just pulling your leg!¡± Oskar gives an uncertain smile in return but says nothing. Rabbie turns to me and raises an eyebrow ¡°You remember where you¡¯re going, lassie?¡± Sarcastically, I answer ¡°Nooooo¡­ funny thing about being in the army, they hate when soldiers are good with directions(!)¡­ I¡¯m afraid they¡¯ve made me such a disorientated pillock that I¡¯ve completely forgotten the way to the room I slept in for 4 years(!)¡­¡± ¡°On you go, you sarky sod!¡± he laughs. I gesture Oskar to follow me. We walk up the four flights of stairs to the fourth floor. Coming to my door I open it and gesture inside. He steps in and I close and bolt the door behind us. Out the window is a not bad view of the twilit sea where the Firth of Clyde joins the North Channel. ¡°Sooo¡­ how did you find it?¡± ¡°Worse than bootcamp¡­(!)¡± he answers, despondently, flumping himself down on my bed. ¡°What?!¡± I ask, extremely confused ¡°What are you talking about!?¡± ¡°I looked like an absolute cretin in front of all your friends today!¡­ Did you hear what Quinn said when I told her why I don¡¯t speak Scots even though I can?¡± I think back to that interaction. ¡°Didn¡¯t she say it was interesting?¡± ¡°Yes! ¡®An interesting take¡¯ she called it!¡± he says, miserably. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a good thing?¡± I query, eyebrow raised. He sits up and frowns at me, lips pursed ¡°If you¡¯re not a Stateser, Esme¡­ then you know that calling something an ¡®interesting take¡¯ or a ¡®brave idea¡¯ like that is a polite, phatic code for ¡®you¡¯re a twat and the thing you¡¯ve just said is stupid¡¯(!)¡± I giggle ¡°I¡¯m¡­ pretty sure she just thought it was interesting, Oskar!¡­ She¡¯s not that clandestine or backhanded!¡± He grumbles at that. I walk over to where he sits on the bed and put my hands on his shoulders, kneeling between his thighs with my right knee. I lean down to kiss him. ¡°Trust me, Oskar¡­ I¡¯ve known them for years and I can tell when they like someone and when they¡¯re just humouring someone they think is a twat¡­ They like you!¡± He looks unconvinced. ¡°How about¡­ now we¡¯re alone together¡­ I find some way to thank you for all your hard work today, hmmm?¡± His eyes narrow, not meeting mine, as the ghost of a smile touches his mouth ¡°How might you do that?¡± Distraction achieved! ¡°Weeell¡­ I remember you being¡­ very interested when I told you I went to a school that had school uniforms¡­ My uniform¡¯s probably still in that wardrobe over there¡­ How about we see if it still fits¡­?¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. His face flushes red and the edges of his mouth curl upward in an irresistible grin. ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Saturday, 12th of May, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southwestern Scotland--- The thing about being at War¡­ is that it makes events like this prone to being quite sparsely attended¡­ The proportion of 18-45 year olds who are off fighting, preparing to fight or¡­ well¡­ ¡®done¡¯ fighting, leaves a substantial demographic gap. My parents¡¯ funerals were the same way¡­ The bride¡¯s side is more full, being populated by everyone from Esme¡¯s orphanage but¡­ the groom¡¯s side is looking so bare that I¡¯m almost tempted to move there myself just to fill it out! By all accounts, he was a popular and well liked guy at school¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ most of the Human classmates of his have been drafted since he graduated. The groom doesn¡¯t particularly seem to mind as he stands at the pulpit of this church in Stranraer¡¯s Old Town. He¡¯s just anxiously looking down the aisle while his bushy, blond tail wags, slowly and nervously, back and forth behind him. The slim Canis has a vulpine looking face, bright blue eyes and has chosen to wear a suit in scarlet red, denoting passion. Behind him stand what I presume to be his best man, two groomsmen and a groomswoman. Organ music starts and every head turns rearward. Through the doors come the bridesmen and bridesmaids, Esme taking up the rear in her service uniform (now the second sexiest uniform I¡¯ve seen her in in the last 24hrs(!)) It would be a little pompous of us, as Privates, to have come in dress uniforms, even if either of us actually owned dress uniforms! The simplistic elegance of her service uniform suits the bridal party well, in my view! The group move to the altar and take their place opposite the groom¡¯s party. Following after are a boy and girl, both around 8 years old, the girl holding a pillow with golden bands tied onto it, the boy merrily scooping handfuls of petals out of the basket he holds, to scatter them around. Christians have some weird wedding traditions! Then, they appear¡­ An enormously stocky, grey bearded man with wild hair (that he seems to have tried and failed to tame for today) and, on his arm, a grey furred Felis in a royal blue dress and veil¡­ Serenity is what she thinks defines her it seems from that choice. When you see photos of weddings from centuries ago, the brides almost always wore white! I know it wasn¡¯t a funerary colour at the time but¡­ imagine¡­ a woman in a white wedding dress! They look like Vampires! The bride¡¯s dress fully covers her chest, coming up to form a ring of cloth around her neck with a wide gap between there and the top of her sleeves, leaving her grey furred shoulders exposed. The effect is quite tasteful¡­ My imagination runs wild for a moment, showing me Esme in a red version of the same garment¡­ The pair slowly process down the aisle. The large man looks, from his quivering lip, like he¡¯s trying to fight off tears. The Felis on his arm looks like the embodiment of her chosen serenity colour as she walks with a subtle smile adorning her snout, visible through her veil. I hear a strange flapping sound. Turning my head, I see that the groom is now wagging his tail so hard that it might be more accurate to say that it¡¯s wagging him! The momentum change of every swing is, not so subtly, swaying his body side to side as he watches his bride approach. The two of them finally make it to the altar. Quinn turns to Baird, allowing him to lift her veil. They embrace and she whispers something in his ear before they part. He takes his place in the front row on the bride¡¯s side, and, though I can only see him from behind, I see his hand surreptitiously move to both eyes in a clear wiping motion and I hear very quiet sniffles from where I am. Quinn turns to the groom, still flapping his tail, seemingly entirely out of his control! The cleric raises his hands ¡°Dearly beloved¡­¡± ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- I stare, dully, at the bundle of blue flowers in my hands. I caught it¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to catch it¡­ It was as if my left arm and I had different ideas about what was a desirable outcome of the bouquet being tossed¡­ I was thinking that, as I don¡¯t believe in superstitious nonsense like bouquet tossings indicating the next person to get married, I should let someone catch it that it might be more meaningful to¡­ My arm unilaterally decided that the bouquet must be acquired at all and any cost, shooting up, with reflexes honed by six months of initial training, to snatch it from the air. ¡°You gonna stare at that thing all night, Mimi¡­? You don¡¯t maybe want to have a dance with that man of yours?¡± asks Tommie¡¯s smug voice. I look up to see her smug face. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­¡± I start, gesturing at the flowers. ¡°I know, sweetie, I know¡­ don¡¯t worry about it¡­¡± ¡°I¡­ I need a drink¡­¡± ¡°¡¯Scuse me, could my maid of honour get a whiskey on the rocks?¡± asks Tommie to the barman behind me. ¡°Could you just confirm your age for me, Miss?¡± asks the barman, apologetically. ¡°Does the uniform not confirm her age?¡± she queries, wryly. ¡°Sorry, Ma¡¯am¡­ 17 and a third year olds can join the army for initial training¡­ I can¡¯t sell anything over 5% to an under 18.¡± I pull my holo from my pocket, get up my ID app and touch it to the counter. There¡¯s a little jingle that I take to be the bar confirming that the ID just scanned belongs to someone over the age of 18. ¡°Thank you, Miss¡­ I¡¯ll get you that drink.¡± A glass is placed on the bar beside me, ice balls rattling against the side. I pick it up and take a sip. ¡°Oh¡­ that¡¯s nice¡­!¡± I say, looking down into the amber liquid. ¡°OK, now you¡¯ve got your dutch courage¡­ go and talk to Mr Tall-Dark-and-Handsome over there!¡­ You don¡¯t want to strand him talking with Rex and Rabbie all night, do you?¡± ¡°You¡¯re right¡­¡± I turn to hug the Felis in the gorgeous blue dress ¡°¡­thanks, Tommie¡­ or¡­¡± I smirk ¡°¡­should I call you ¡®Mrs Cailean¡¯, now?¡± ¡°Shush!¡­ None of that, Mimi!¡­ Not even sure I¡¯m going to change my name¡­ Rex says he wouldn¡¯t mind if I wanted him to become ¡®Rex Quinn¡¯¡­¡± I giggle ¡°That sounds like the name of an adventure novel protagonist¡­(!)¡± She chuckles back. We break from the cuddle and she tilts her head toward where Oskar sits ¡°Go! Ask him to dance!¡± Remembrance, Chapter 12 of 28 ---Simone¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 9th of July, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- My heart swells with pride as I look at the sea of graduates dressed in their service uniforms. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, as of today, your trainin¡¯ is complete!¡­ I could not be happier with the transformation I see in front of me!¡­ Gone are the whinin¡¯, whingin¡¯, snot nosed brats, fresh from schoolyards across the Isles, and, in their place, I see Soldiers!¡­ You may relax for today and tomorrow¡­ Then on Friday, after you have reported for your final medical screenin¡¯¡­ you will be ridin¡¯ to the top of that¡­¡± I point to the space elevator, visible in the middle distance ¡°¡­to board a transport to the front lines of our coreward push!¡­ Some of you will not return¡­ and I deeply regret that this will be the last time I see many of your faces¡­¡± Mildly in danger of choking up at this point, I shift to the inspiring part ¡°But¡­ in your noble sacrifice, lives the hope for Terra¡¯s future!¡­ Trillions of people, yet to be born, will live by your deeds!¡­ The people of Earth¡­ and of every planet in the United Terran Coalition will know your names as those of Heroes! Go forth bravely, you gods among men! Look into the face of that goodnight and burn and rage against it! Do not sell your lives cheaply! Make the enemy pay dearly for them! Rip and tear until this War is done¡­ LONG LIVE TERRA!!!¡± A cheer erupts as berets are tossed in the air. ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Thursday, 12th of July, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ¡°Come in, sit down¡­¡± smiles the army nurse as he gestures to an examination stool. I enter and take the seat. ¡°Could I get your name¡­?¡± ¡°Pvt Reid¡­ Esme Reid¡­¡± I answer, politely. ¡°Alright, Pvt Reid¡­ you¡¯re deploying tomorrow, right?¡­ Just here for a clean bill of health?¡± he smiles. ¡°That¡¯s right¡­¡± ¡°Do you know where you¡¯re going?¡± I know I¡¯m going to ¡®Krwndw¡¯, the cradleworld of a weird tapirlike species that sits on what has been identified as a strategically valuable spacelane crossroads but ¡°Loose lips sink ships, Sir¡­ I can¡¯t tell you that¡­¡± He smiles ¡°No, I suppose not!¡­ Alright, Private¡­ could I just get you to tell me¡­ how have you been feeling lately?¡± ¡°Fine¡­ I guess¡­?¡± He gives a very slight frown ¡°Why do you have to guess, Private?¡­ Have you been having symptoms of some kind?¡­¡± I shake my head ¡°No¡­ well, yes¡­ but just silly little things that I¡¯m almost certain don¡¯t actually mean anything!¡± He narrows his eyes and gives a mirthful puff ¡°Private¡­ how about you let me decide whether they ¡®mean¡¯ anything? You know¡­ the medical professional? Tell me what¡¯s ailing you, Soldier¡­ You might be a liability if you go to the front with, as it turns out, a serious ailment!¡± My mouth twists ¡°OK¡­ like I said, it¡¯s nothing big¡­ just some little things¡­ I¡¯ve been feeling tired these last few weeks¡­¡± ¡°In a way that¡¯s different from the normal fatigue of initial training?¡± he asks, curiously. ¡°Yeah¡­ like, I¡¯ve been feeling sort of like I did when I first came here, or when I first started in durasteel, recently¡­ but I can¡¯t think why¡­¡± ¡°Interesting¡­ are there any other symptoms¡­?¡± he queries, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I¡¯ve been having a bit of nausea¡­ some dizzy spells, brain fog¡­ Oh! And, the other day, they were serving hot curry and samosas in the mess and I found it absolutely repulsive!¡± ¡°Not everyone likes spicy food¡­?¡± he offers ¡°¡­and the military isn¡¯t exactly known for the quality of its cuisine! ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯ve had that meal here before and loved it!¡­ I¡¯m a spice nut!¡­ Nobody else could taste the difference¡­!¡± I insist. He thinks about that for a few moments before saying ¡°Alright, Private¡­ may I run a blood scan quickly?¡­ That will let me know if there¡¯s anything obvious in your body that shouldn¡¯t be there.¡± ¡°Sure! Go ahead!¡± I say, willingly proffering him my wrist. ¡°Thank you¡­¡± he smiles, picking up a medical holo and bringing its sensor to my skin. His brow creases at whatever information is being displayed on his screen. That¡¯s not encouraging! Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°What is it¡­?¡± I ask, concerned ¡°Sorry¡­ I¡¯m just going to scan you again¡­¡± he says as he does so. His alarmed expression remains in place. ¡°Damnit man! Tell me what¡¯s up!¡± I demand, panicking slightly. ¡°Sorry¡­ Private¡­ Could I just ask you to wait here a minute?¡­ I need to¡­ check something¡­¡± ¡°Dude, seriously?! You¡¯re gonna make that face about whatever the scan said and then you¡¯re just gonna fucking bounce without even telling me what you think it might be¡­?!¡± ¡°I just need to check it first¡­ don¡¯t go anywhere¡­¡± says the man, leaving me alone with my roiling anxiety. Well fuck¡­ guess I¡¯m dying! Guess I¡¯m going to spend the rest of my short life withering away in a hospital bed while everyone else goes off to die in glorious battle! For a moment, my mind tortures me by showing me a battle mutilated Oskar and a cancer ravaged Esme meeting in a nonexistent afterlife¡­ each of us so disgusted by the sight of the other that we can¡¯t even look at eachother! My stewing anxiety is interrupted by the door opening. The nurse is back but the man and woman with him aren¡¯t, as I expected, more senior Medical Officers¡­ he¡¯s flanked by burly Military Police! ¡°What¡¯s¡­?¡± ¡°That¡¯s her! She¡¯s the one!¡± shouts the nurse, pointing at me, alarmingly. The pair advance on me. The woman takes out a pair of handcuffs and says ¡°Pvt Esme Reid, I am placing you under arrest on suspicion of malingering with the intent to render yourself unfit for service, you have the right to an advocate and against self incrimination.¡± ¡°What?!¡± I ask, aghast ¡°What are you talking about!?¡­ How have I made myself unfit for service!?!?!?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you don¡¯t know you¡¯re 9 weeks pregnant!¡± sneers the nurse. I stand in stunned silence while my wrists are cuffed in front of me. ¡°I¡¯m WHAT?!?!?!¡± ---Simone¡¯s perspective--- ¡°What is the fuckin¡¯ MEANIN¡¯ of this, Andrews!?¡± I snarl, as I storm into the man¡¯s office, not particularly caring how much he outranks me. ¡°Ah¡­ Warrant Officer Sands¡­ just the woman I wanted!¡± smiles the man, coolly, as he turns to face me with his eyebrow raised. ¡°Answer the QUESTION, Andrews! Why did your men enter my billet halls to arrest my star pupil as a suspected accessory to malingery the day before he¡¯s set to be deployed!?¡± With infuriating calmness, the man retorts ¡°It sort of sounds like you¡¯ve answered your own question there, doesn¡¯t it Sands?¡­ We suspect him of being an accessory to a malinger!¡­ His partner has rendered herself unfit to serve and we believe he had something to do with it.¡± ¡°Reid?! What¡¯s she done to herself!?¡± I ask, horrified at the idea that I might not have noticed the signs of a subordinate in danger of injuring herself to skip out on deployment! ¡°She¡¯s gone and got herself pregnant is what¡­ Hence the need to detain her partner¡­¡± says the Provost Marshal, dryly. I stand there, agog, while I absorb that. ¡°¡­Pause rejection!¡± I manage, eventually. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t exonerate her, I¡¯m afraid¡­ She would have had to have five to six periods without ever once bringing it up¡­ Does she strike you as the kind of dullwit who wouldn¡¯t have understood that cycle pause serum is meant to pause your cycle?¡± I struggle to come up with anything else¡­ The girl who walked in here 8 months ago and made a snarky comment about not wanting to go to classes¡­ Her I would have easily believed a malinger, but¡­ the Reid I¡¯ve seen recently? ¡°Has she confessed to it?¡± Andrews sighs ¡°She has not¡­ she¡¯s still protesting that the reading must have been wrong and that there is simply no way she could be pregnant¡­ That¡¯s actually why I wanted you¡­¡± ¡°Oh¡­?¡± ¡°Yeees¡­ if I remember from that case with the sexual assault perpetrated by Pvt Rupert Forest¡­ you are certified as a Truth Wizard, aren¡¯t you?¡­¡± ¡°I am¡­¡± I confirm, scowling at where this is going. ¡°Well¡­ a Truth Wizard and the officer on base who knows the girl best¡­ I was wondering if you might go and talk with her¡­ just to confirm that she¡¯s not telling us the truth¡­ Then perhaps you could do the same with her partner to see if he knew¡­?¡± I fold my arms ¡°Reid should be a doddle for me to read!¡± ¡°Alright, start with her then¡­¡± ¡°And¡­ if I say she ain¡¯t lyin¡¯?¡± I challenge. ¡°If you say so, Sands¡­ I shall believe you¡­ but, bear in mind, if I later find out that you lied to protect her, you will face disciplinary action!¡± ¡°Of course!¡± ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- The door opens and a short, dark skinned woman with a single, natural mauve eye enters the room where I¡¯m shackled to the table. ¡°Ma¡¯am! I¡­¡± ¡°Shut up, Reid!¡± she snaps, seeming very irritated ¡°I¡¯m gonna ask you some questions, you are gonna answer ¡¯em, that is the only time I permit you to speak! Am I clear?¡± ¡°Err¡­ Yes, Ma¡¯am!¡± I answer. ¡°If you lie to me, Reid¡­ I¡¯ll know! You aren¡¯t the master deceiver that you clearly thought you were every time I let things slide with you because they weren¡¯t worth my time!¡­ I need to make clear that, every time you have ever lied to me and thought you got away with it, you didn¡¯t! I knew, Reid!¡­ I am not gonna nuke my career on your account! Am I clear?¡± ¡°Crystal clear, Ma¡¯am!¡± I respond. ¡°If you tell me that you are innocent and I tell them you¡¯re guilty, it¡¯ll be the worse for you!¡­ Believe me, you do not want to spend a day in a military prison!¡­ Unlike in the civilian justice system, the military hasn¡¯t quite outgrown the idea of prison¡¯s bein¡¯ a place of punishment as opposed to rehabilitation!¡­ I say again, do NOT lie to me!¡± I¡¯m about to say ¡®Yes, Ma¡¯am¡¯ when I realise that there was no question there. Instead, I just nod. Her resigned face softens as she says ¡°Before we start¡­ I just want to reassure you that, whatever happens, the military will not and cannot compel you to terminate your pregnancy against your wishes¡­ So please don¡¯t worry about that¡­¡± That is a relief to anxiety I didn¡¯t even realise I was holding! ¡°Now¡­¡± starts Sands, her tone once again businesslike, her natural and synth eyes both fixed on me in a penetrating, unblinking stare ¡°¡­first question; Did you know you were pregnant?¡± ¡°No, Ma¡¯am.¡± I answer, truthfully. ¡°Did you know you were able to become pregnant?¡± ¡°No, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Have you had your period since last November?¡± ¡°No, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Did you, by any means, intention¡¯ly avoid gettin¡¯ your cycle pause serum administered?¡± ¡°No, Ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Did you, by any means, intention¡¯ly counteract the cycle pause, or allow it to be counteracted, after it was administered?¡± ¡°No, Ma¡¯am.¡± The muscles tighten over her flat cheeks as she narrows her eyes, scrutinising my face. Raising her voice and speaking over her shoulder to the mirror behind her, she says ¡°Call a biomedical boffin to come and have a look at her¡­ She¡¯s tellin¡¯ the truth¡­¡± Remembrance, Chapter 13 of 28 ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Saturday, 14th of July, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- ¡°Masquerade¡­ cycle¡­ pause¡­ rejection¡­¡± I say, trying out the words as I lie in my room, Esme atop me. ¡°Yup¡­ 1:30,000,000 rate of incidence¡­ according to the professor they called up to look at me¡­ Though, she did admit that it isn¡¯t her main expertise¡­¡± ¡°So¡­ you¡¯ve just been walking around for 8 months, fertile as you ever were and none the wiser because you weren¡¯t getting your period anymore?¡± ¡°Seems like it!¡­Honestly, it¡¯s amazing it took this long with the quantity and regularity of sex we¡¯ve been having!¡± she smiles, joylessly. ¡°And¡­ we¡¯re going to be¡­ parents?¡± ¡°¡­Are you¡­ angry, Oskar?¡± she asks, looking slightly worried. ¡°No!¡­ A tiny bit disappointed that we missed the boat to Krwndw but¡­ I guess¡­ I¡¯m, sort of, just¡­ shellshocked, more than anything else!¡± ¡°Same¡­ Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever make it to motherhood¡­ turns out, it came to me(!)¡± she quips, dryly. ¡°And¡­ I¡¯m guessing¡­ you don¡¯t get an ¡®out of the military free¡¯ card for being an expecting mother, do you?¡± I ask, flatly. She shakes her head and bitterly says ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m reprieved for the moment but they¡¯re figuring out what to do with us during and after my pregnancy, now¡­ They let me know that an honourable discharge was out of the question for either of us!¡­ I didn¡¯t even have to ask about it!¡­ They told me the sex, too¡­ didn¡¯t get the choice about whether that could be a surprise or not!¡± ¡°What¡¯s the sex?¡± I ask, instantly. ¡°Male.¡± she answers, simply. ¡°A son¡­ we¡¯re going to have a son¡­¡± I say, still dazed. ¡°Yup¡­ Weeell¡­ she might let us know she¡¯s actually our daughter at some point¡­ but, to start, we are going to have a child with XY chromosomes, at least!¡± ¡°And¡­ how far along did they say you were?¡± ¡°9 weeks¡­ I¡¯m due next February.¡± ¡°9 weeks¡­ so¡­ we probably conceived in Stranraer, then?¡± She groans and allows her head to drop, impacting my chest. ¡°What¡­?¡± I ask, confused. ¡°Why¡¯d you have to point that out?¡± she moans, pathetically. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong is that I can now never unknow the fact that I conceived my first child while dressed as a schoolgirl!¡­ That is going to fucking haunt me for the rest of my life!¡± She bounces on top of me as my diaphragm contracts in chuckles. ¡°Privates Esme Reid and Oskar Taylor¡­ Report to my office immediately.¡± comes Sands¡¯ voice over the PA. ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- Me and Oskar walk into Sands¡¯ office and are met by the sight of her, sat behind her desk, and a dark haired man with his back to us, staring out of the window. He turns to look at us, revealing two piercingly blue eyes, set into a handsome, Sapiens face with just a whisper of Denisovan (maybe a great grandparent?) In terms of his height, build, skin and hair colour, he could be Oskar¡¯s older brother! He¡¯s perhaps in his late 20s-early 30s? Noticeably younger than Sands is. He breaks into a smile and greets us ¡°Pvt Taylor, Pvt Reid¡­ it¡¯s a pleasure to make your acquaintance! LtCpt Nathan ¡®Wellington¡¯ Burrows, at your service!¡± By comparison to the poshness of this man¡¯s voice, Oskar¡¯s accent is positively vulgar(!) ¡°A pleasure to meet you too, Lieutenant-Captain¡­¡± I say, admirably holding in my mirth at the man¡¯s gentility ¡°¡­Is there something we can¡­ do for you, Sir?¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. He smiles ¡°That remains to be seen, Private¡­ I heard about your situation and have just been properly briefed by WO Sands here¡­ It seems the two of you find yourselves at a loose end for the next 7 months, now don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes¡­ Sir.¡± I answer, hesitantly. ¡°Normally, a pregnant draftee and the father of her child would be in the Stockade awaiting their court-martial but, given that you were exonerated of any wrongdoing, it seems the Army is not exactly sure what to do with you¡­ Discharging you (honourably or dishonourably) is rather out of the question. We would be inundated by copycat attempts from reluctant draftees if we did that but, well¡­ we can¡¯t simply allow you to stay here and collect your salary for doing nothing, as the next batch of recruits come in¡­ Perhaps, you could be given some camp functions and Pvt Taylor could continue in that role until the end of the time that you will be waylaid. I¡¯m afraid, however, there aren¡¯t very many roles on an Army camp that don¡¯t require strength and mobility that a woman in the latter stages of pregnancy simply won¡¯t have¡­¡± ¡°I¡­ get the sense that you have an alternative in mind, Sir?¡± I ask, tentatively. ¡°I do¡­ I would suggest both of you enter Officer Training, Privates.¡± ¡°Officer Training, Sir?¡± I query. ¡°Yes, Private¡­¡± he smiles, flicking some information from his holo to the screen that acts as Sands¡¯ desktop. I¡¯m quickly able to identify them as mine and Oskar¡¯s service records ¡°¡­These are some moderately impressive stats and scores you two have¡­ Don¡¯t get me wrong, they aren¡¯t so amazing that I would be scouting you without your specific circumstances¡­ I do, for instance, observe that Pvt Reid as a few notes on her ¡®insubordinate attitude¡¯ from early on in her training! There¡¯s also a dip in her more recent physical scores but we know why that is now, don¡¯t we! Regardless, I see promise here!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ exactly sure I¡¯m Officer material ¡­¡± I say, sceptically ¡°¡­my parents ran a chipshop, Sir.¡± He chuckles ¡°You think every Officer grew up on a country estate, Private(?)¡­ It¡¯s the 27th Century, not the 19th!¡­ These days, more officers than not are actually rank and file, field promotions¡­ certainly at the lower ranks¡­ An illustrious lineage is not a requirement!¡± ¡°O¡­K¡­ but isn¡¯t Officer Training quite physically demanding, Sir?¡± ¡°It is usually but, since you¡¯ve already undergone Initial Training, we can work something out for you¡­ Any physically demanding portions you were required to undertake could be front loaded so as to allow you to complete them before your strength and mobility wane¡­ the rest would all be academically orientated, Private¡­ Of course, we shall also be more than happy to grant any leave you need for medical appointments and arranging care for your future child¡­¡± ¡°I think you should do it, Esme¡­¡± comes Oskar¡¯s voice, startling me as he usually doesn¡¯t speak in public, unless spoken to. Burrows frowns ¡°This offer extends to you as well, Taylor?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t believe I would make a good Officer, Sir¡­¡± Oskar answers, flatly. ¡°Oh yes¡­ Sands told me you had said something to that effect¡­ is there a particular reason you think so, Private?¡± ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± responds Oskar. ¡°And what is that?¡± ¡°I have mild autistic spectrum condition, Sir. As a result, reading others is more difficult for me than most and I believe myself to lack the charisma and likeability necessary for effective command of subordinates.¡± he says, dropping the bombshell of his ASC on me but, seemingly, not Sands or Burrows. ¡°I am aware of your diagnosis, Private¡­¡± smiles the blue eyed man ¡°¡­and I must disabuse you of the notion that likeability is a prerequisite of command!¡­ Certainly, an Officer must be both likeable and (more crucially) competent enough that those subordinate to them don¡¯t resort to fragging them, but¡­ being an Officer often means needing to be the hardarse, the killjoy and the stick-in-the-mud!¡­ Troops will forgive a lot more obnoxiousness from the CO than they will incompetence and, from your record, Taylor, you seem more than competent enough¡­ Ability to read your subordinates is a requirement. However, ASC does not disqualify you from Officerhood. As a matter of fact, there is a small but statistically significant overrepresentation of those on the spectrum in the Officer Corps compared to the general population! My recommendation would be for both of you to agree to this but¡­ we would be able to accommodate one of you in a nonOfficerial role¡­ That would mean separate sleeping arrangements though!¡± ¡°You mean we¡¯d get to share a room if we both did it¡­ like, officially, Sir?¡± He gives a jovial nod ¡°Oh, yes, Private!¡­ I¡¯m told that the two of you have effectively been sharing a broomcupboard together for the last 6 months(!)¡­ You can expect more agreeable accommodation at Sandhurst but, well¡­ it still won¡¯t exactly be palatial(!)¡­You will also receive a salary increase, though, don¡¯t expect Soldiery to make you fabulously wealthy(!)¡± I think for a moment before I turn to Sands ¡°What would you advise, Ma¡¯am?¡± She looks from me to Taylor and back before she answers ¡°I¡¯d grab the opportunity with both hands if I was you two, Privates¡­ Though, we can¡¯t force you¡­ We just need to find somewhere to put you until you¡¯re back to fighting fitness.¡± I look to Oskar¡¯s unreadable face before turning to Burrows ¡°Could we have some time to talk it over, Sir?¡± ¡°Of course, Privates!¡­ Sands tells me that the next batch of trainees should arrive to fill this billet on¡­ Wednesday? So, why don¡¯t I give you today and tomorrow to discuss it and come back on Monday for your answer?¡± I nod ¡°Sounds good, Sir.¡± He smiles and gestures to the door ¡°Dismissed, Privates.¡± Oskar and I give the man a nod and turn to leave. The door closes behind us and we begin walking in the direction of our room. I look up at Oskar¡¯s frowning face. ¡°You never told me you were on the spectrum¡­¡± I say, keeping accusation out of my voice. ¡°I never thought it would matter¡­¡± he says, forlornly ¡°¡­I definitely would have if I¡¯d known you were going to end up as the mother of my child¡­ I¡¯m really sorry you weren¡¯t able to take that into consideration, Esme!¡± ¡°Hey! No!!!¡± I reproach ¡°None of that, lad! You have nothing to apologise for!¡­ I mean, if anything, I should be the one apologising for accidentally babytrapping you(!)¡± He gives a joyless smile. I take his right hand in my left and give it a squeeze. He turns to look at me. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t have made any difference, alright?¡± I smile ¡°And it won¡¯t make a difference to how I feel about him.. I¡¯m going to love him to bits, no matter what!¡± He smiles back and nods. Remembrance, Chapter 14 of 28 --- Ma0219i164A¡¯s perspective--- ---Friday, 20th of July, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southeastern England--- I am currently projecting holograms into numerous rooms in my Children¡¯s Home. I have often thought about buying a droid to play with the kids with¡­ but it just doesn¡¯t make financial sense¡­ even if there weren¡¯t the War on! I can rent droids to take them on daytrips, easily and cheaply enough¡­ I do sometimes wish they could have a bit more personal contact from their primary carer, though! As it is, my employees have to do most of the regular duties that require physical hands¡­ I¡¯m relegated to a food dispenser, a medicine dispenser and a ghostly playmate to the kids, most days. Just as I¡¯m thinking about that, a young couple show up in the hall outside my front door, the man tall, bulky, sharp faced, brown eyed and dark haired, the woman average height, wiry, soft faced, green eyed and with scarlet red hair. I open it for them before they have a chance to wonder about how to ring the bell that isn¡¯t there(!) ¡°Esme Reid, Oskar Taylor¡­ please come in, I been expectin¡¯ you! Up the stairs and first door on your left!¡± I say, musically, over the front door¡¯s speaker. The two look mildly perturbed for a moment before recovering and walking inside. They climb the stairs to the mezzanine landing, take a left and come to the office which I project myself inside, 0.04 seconds before they open the door. ¡°Come in, sit down¡­¡± I smile, gesturing to the sofa with every aspect of my tone and bodylanguage managed to be as warm and inviting as possible. ¡°Great view!¡± says the Scottish accented girl, distractedly looking out of the window as she and her babydaddy take their seats on the couch. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯re on the 112th floor here, so all windows have a pretty spectacular view of Central London¡­ South facin¡¯, too! Helps with gettin¡¯ nat¡¯ral light, for the kids makin¡¯ enough vitamin D¡­ also keeps the electric bill down since we don¡¯t need so much artificial light¡­¡± The girl gives me a nervous smile, the boy just gives me an expressionless stare. Walking my avatar over to the armchair, I sit down, facing them at an angle. Of course, I don¡¯t need to sit and I don¡¯t need to face them to see them but, for their comfort, it¡¯s better to do it this way. ¡°So¡­ lovely to meet you two!¡± I smile ¡°My name¡¯s Maia, as I¡¯m sure you could guess(!)¡± ¡°Nice to meet you¡­¡± says the girl, anxiously. ¡°A pleasure.¡± states the boy, his tone flat but not brusque. ¡°D¡¯you mind if I ask who you heard about me from?¡± I ask. ¡°Our¡­ drill instructor¡­ Simone Sands?¡± offers the redhead. ¡°Oh! Sissy!?¡± I ask, happily ¡°Sissy sent you here? How is she!?¡± A light, mirthful smile touches the girl¡¯s lips and even the boy has a moment of reduced dourness in his expression. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ Sissy?¡± she asks. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right¡­¡± I confirm ¡°¡­that¡¯s what everyone called her, growin¡¯ up.¡± ¡°I just¡­ I can¡¯t¡­ it just doesn¡¯t suit the WO Sands I know, at all!¡± she giggles. ¡°Yeah¡­ it is a bit cute for her¡­ Stopped introducin¡¯ herself by it when she hit about 12¡­ How¡¯s she doin¡¯?¡± ¡°Oh, she¡¯s fine¡­ I assume you know about her¡­ eye, right?¡± she says, pointing to her own right eye to represent Sissy¡¯s replacement. ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­ that¡¯s a few years old, now¡­ Got her sent home from the Front¡­ I¡¯m just grateful it weren¡¯t much worse!¡± The two of them wince slightly and, inwardly, I correct the erroneous pathway that led me to being so insensitive to these two (ultimately headed to the Front themselves) before I continue ¡°So¡­ why don¡¯t you two tell me a bit about you?¡± ¡°Oh¡­ well¡­ My name¡¯s Esme Reid and this is Oskar Taylor, you know¡­ I¡¯m from Scotland, he¡¯s from Dogger¡­ We¡¯re both 18, we met at bootcamp about 8 months ago¡­ didn¡¯t like eachother, at first¡­¡± ¡°More accurately¡­¡± corrects the deep voiced, muscular boy, in a level tone ¡°¡­you didn¡¯t like me¡­ I would have been fairly neutral toward you if not for your antagonism.¡± ¡°Shush!¡­ It¡¯s in the past, now!¡± giggles the redhead, playfully, before she resumes ¡°He¡­ erm¡­ he saved me from an extremely bad situation I was in and, after that, it wasn¡¯t too long before our relationship had done a complete 180¡ã!¡­ We got together and¡­ we did what young people do when they¡¯re together(!)¡­ Then, about a week and a half ago, I was getting my final physical before we shipped out and, before I knew what was happening, I was being arrested as a malinger!¡­ Turns out I was 9 weeks pregnant!¡­ I was none the wiser!¡­ Masquerade cycle pause rejection¡­ Incredibly rare phenomenon that they had to get, like, a bloody professor in to double check!¡­ Right now, we¡¯re both reprieved from deployment until I¡¯ve recovered from labour¡­ We¡¯ve accepted spots on the Officer track, to keep us busy in the meantime, but we haven¡¯t started that yet¡­ and, yeah¡­ we¡¯re looking into options for how our baby is going to be looked after when we¡¯re not there¡­¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°And, hence, you came to me!¡± I smile, gesturing to my holographic body. She smiles and nods¡­ her man moves his head in the vaguest suggestion of a nod(!) ¡°Well¡­ lookin¡¯ after kids is what we do here(!) Buuuut¡­¡± Their faces fall slightly at the elongated qualifier. I quickly move on ¡°¡­I do have to point out that, while we try and give ¡¯em all the love and care they could want¡­ it isn¡¯t really a patch on havin¡¯ a family!¡­ I hate to have to ask but¡­ I assume you¡¯ve already exhausted all family options?¡± The girl who¡¯s done almost all of the talking so far shakes her head, her expression grim, and answers ¡°No good, I¡¯m afraid¡­ No surviving parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins¡­ and we¡¯re both only children¡­ I spent 14 to 18 in an orphanage, in Stranraer, and¡­ I would definitely like to have sent him to Pinehill but¡­¡± she trails off. ¡°But Pinehill is a Home for older children and ain¡¯t equipped for dealing with infant care?¡± I provide. Shocked, the girl answers ¡°Uh¡­ yes!¡­ How d¡¯you¡­?¡± ¡°I¡¯m an AI¡­ and one quite actively engaged with the care of children, Ms Reid(!)¡­ I¡¯m quite up on the particulars of residential care organisations, especially in the North European Isles!¡± I smile. ¡°I see¡­¡± she hesitates before finishing ¡°¡­the only serious contender was my friend Tamsin and her new husband¡­ They¡¯re uplifts so no worry of them being drafted¡­. I¡¯m almost certain they¡¯d¡¯ve said yes if we¡¯d asked but¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ They¡¯re both so young¡­ I feel like I¡¯d ruin their lives if I foisted a baby on them at this stage!¡± I nod ¡°That¡¯s understandable¡­ and destitute biologicals typic¡¯ly make poor carers¡­ Don¡¯t matter how much you love the child in your charge if you ain¡¯t able to keep the lights on, put food on the table, keep the roof from leakin¡¯ and keep them in clothes and blankets.¡± She frowns slightly before answering ¡°I guess so¡­¡± Changing the subject, I ask ¡°Would you two like to see something interesting?¡± ¡°Erm¡­ sure.¡± shrugs the redhead. I point to the wall, where a panel opens, revealing a clear tube of liquid. ¡°Oh, wooow!¡± exclaims the girl. ¡°Yeah¡­ she¡¯s a tiny bit further along than you are¡­ a Neanderthal¡­ about 13 weeks, 8.2cm long, 47g, ten fully formed fingers, ten fully formed toes¡­¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t have a name?¡± she asks, her tone more confirmatory than questioning. ¡°She don¡¯t¡­ that scrunkly little bungus ain¡¯t gonna get to choose what goes on her ID till she¡¯s 6 years old!¡­ It is always a bit awkward¡­ raising resurrectees and uplifts, just havin¡¯ to call ¡¯em ¡®baby¡¯ and ¡®you¡¯ until they¡¯re old enough to pick out a name for ¡¯emselves¡­¡± ¡°Never really understood why we make uplifts and resurrectees choose their names¡­ I¡¯m also a bit surprised we¡¯re still doing resurrection, with the War on¡­ I¡¯d¡¯ve thought the government wouldn¡¯t want the extra mouths to feed!¡± I smile and, my tone instructive not chastising, I answer ¡°At this point, lettin¡¯ ¡¯em choose their own names is more tradition than anything else¡­ The idea was, origin¡¯ly, that it was somethin¡¯ of theirs¡­ We may be able to bring them back but¡­ all their stories, all their languages, their cultures¡­ all that¡¯s gone, unrecoverable¡­ lost under the sands o¡¯time!¡­ What we could give ¡¯em, though, is the right to choose what we call ¡¯em¡­ that¡¯s why we created the list of every pronounceable word that isn¡¯t a name in any major language and, obviously, weeded out all the ones that¡¯d be a bit to close to profanity in any major language¡­ No English Neanderthals called ¡®Fakk¡¯, no French ones called ¡®Murd¡¯(!)¡­ In theory, resurrectees can call ¡¯emselves anything they want from the list¡­ in practice though, bein¡¯ 6, most of ¡¯em get bored long before they make it to the two syllable names¡­ when they get to the nature and/or palaeolithic themed surnames, my experience, they ask it to give ¡¯em ones at random till it spits out one they like!¡­ Uplifts are a bit different. There¡¯s no lost culture there so, instead, they get themed proxy culture¡­ names tradition¡¯ly associated with their species, curated into their lists¡­ As for why resurrection and upliftin¡¯ are still happenin¡¯; the resurrectee and uplift communities might take some exception to bein¡¯ told that their propagation needs to go on hold while we win a War that could last decades(!)¡± ¡°Oh¡­ interesting¡­ I suppose that all makes sense¡­¡± muses the girl. I smile and summon a holographic notepad and pen (useful visual aids, not necessary instruments for taking notes) ¡°So¡­ are there any hereditary conditions I ought to know about? You mentioned that you had no surviving family? Did any of them pass from things that you might want to get your baby screened for?¡± The girl starts ¡°Uh¡­ no¡­ he should¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m autistic¡­¡± says the man, stating the obvious ¡°¡­so was my father. There is a strong chance my son will be as well¡­¡± Looking slightly scared, the girl attempts to minimise ¡°But¡­ like¡­ you¡¯re only a bit autistic, right Oskar? You¡¯re not like¡­?¡± ¡°Miss Reid¡­¡± I interrupt with wry sternness ¡°¡­you appear to be labourin¡¯ under a misapprehension¡­!¡± The girl looks at me, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed into an O. I continue ¡°This isn¡¯t your interview, dearie¡­ It¡¯s mine!¡­ If you¡¯re comin¡¯ at this thinkin¡¯ you need to impress me into bein¡¯ willin¡¯ to take your baby, you¡¯re thinkin¡¯ ¡¯bout it wrong!¡­ There ain¡¯t nothin¡¯ so offputtin¡¯ you could tell me, ¡¯bout yourselves, ¡¯bout your relatives, ¡¯bout your baby, that could make me say ¡®Nah¡­ not gonna bother!¡¯¡­ The purpose of you comin¡¯ here is for you to see whether this is somewhere you could happily see your son grow up¡­ So relax, OK?¡­ I just need the facts as they are¡­ not as you think I would like them(!)¡± She smiles nervously, gives a relieved exhale and nods. ¡°Right, so¡­ Mr Taylor¡­ would you elaborate on your family history of autism?¡± For the remainder of the interview I grill them for every possible useful piece of information they might be able to give me, to allow me to raise their child optimally, I answer all their questions about the workings of the Children¡¯s home, I explain how we¡¯re funded, I let the girl know that, if she wants, we can clone some mammary cells from her to allow her son to drink her milk without her being present, I tell them about schooling arrangements, about the nutrition schedules, sleep schedules, exercise schedules and roster of enrichment activities etc. Finally, I¡¯ve almost finished when I say ¡°Before I give you two the tour, could I just ask¡­ have you thought about leaving your son some sort of record of you¡­?¡± They look at eachother with an expression that says they clearly haven¡¯t. ¡°It might be an idea?¡­ You might be gone for a long time, whatever happens¡­ I could store some footage for you and let him see it when he hits whatever age you tell me you want him to see it at?¡­ Let him see your faces? Let him hear your voices telling your stories? Let him know where he comes from?¡± ¡°That¡­ that sounds like a good idea¡­¡± says the girl, seeming sheepish at not having thought of it herself. ¡°Alright¡­ let me know¡­ Oh, and, I think I probably know the answer to this but¡­ you haven¡¯t thought of a name yet, have you?¡± They both shake their heads. ¡°Oskar nixed ¡®Ross¡¯ and ¡®Lars¡¯, our dads¡¯ names¡­ I nixed ¡®Oskar Jr.¡¯¡­¡± she makes a disgusted face at the boy¡¯s suggestion ¡°¡­other than that¡­¡± she shrugs. ¡°OK, well¡­ there¡¯s no rush¡­ Why don¡¯t I give you two the tour?¡± Remembrance, Chapter 15 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 3rd of September, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- Orange¡­ This room is filled with orange fatigues! We¡¯ve been assigned to a desert battalion. Generally, the UTC tries to assign soldiers to battalions that specialise in climes that resemble those they are most familiar with¡­ people from frigid places go into tundra specialised battalions, people from hot places go into tropical specialised battalions, people from deserts go into desert battalions¡­ etc. etc. They haven¡¯t actually told us why they¡¯ve chosen to take a desert battalion from the North European Isles (one of the furthest environments you can get from a desert) but¡­ we¡¯ve all got a pretty good idea! We¡¯re pretty sure that we¡¯re ultimately going to be on the force bound to liberate New Australia. Occupied fairly early on in the War, that planet has been held by the Galactic Union so long that we have no idea what conditions are like, on the ground! We don¡¯t know how many Terran survivors there might be, still down there. We¡¯re able to get close enough to establish that the planet is still there¡­ no planet crackers have managed to slip through the net! Honestly, the fact that we¡¯ve gone the whole War without a single planet being glassed is a miracle! Might be something to do with how bloody expensive planetary doomsday weapons are to build and how the GU somehow always manage to build them with glaring weak points! One trench run followed by the destruction of a prohibitively expensive wunderwaffe too many and the GU seemed to mostly give up on the idea and try, instead, to resolve the War by throwing bodies at it! They have no shortage of those! I¡¯m trying in vain to focus on the words of this Sandhurst lecturer, through my brainfog, when a loud voice erupts from every speaker. ¡°ATTENTION ALL: Breaking News from the Front! We are about to display a press dispatch that recently arrived from the planet Krwndw, in the Nkowr System!¡± I sit bolt upright as the system that Oskar and I came a hair¡¯s breadth from being sent to is named. I turn to Oskar, his expression mirroring mine. It can¡¯t be good news, can it? 8 weeks is basically exactly enough time for the fleet, that our original batallion left on, to have got there and sent news back! Were we annihilated on landing?! A bewildered looking press correspondent in an ill fitting helmet and bodyarmour, civilian clothes visible underneath, appears on screen. ¡°This is Ken ¡®Canuck¡¯ Sato, reporting from the Front¡­¡± says the man speaking in a Stateser accent (or maybe Canadian?) ¡°¡­the date, at time of recording, is Saturday, 5th of August, 2683TC. I¡¯m standing in Wno¡­ the Krwndwr capital¡­¡± he gestures to his rubble strewn surroundings in the alien city ¡°¡­Earlier today, the Krwndwr High Council proffered their complete and unconditional surrender to the United Terran Coalition, marking¡­¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The room explodes in cheers as the unbridled celebration utterly drowns out the reporter¡¯s words! I¡¯m on my feet for a moment before I find myself being dipped and kissed by Oskar, doing a valiant attempt at reenacting VJ Day in Times Square(!) He undips me and the cheering dies down enough to allow the reporter to, once again, be heard ¡°¡­this announcement is heavily inferred to come in response to yesterday¡¯s arrival of the Terran 104th Fleet here, bringing fresh troops and mat¨¦riel which the resisting forces knew they were simply unable to withstand. With me now is a soldier who arrived on the 104th¡­ Private Kimberley Bailey, from Earth¡­¡± My mouth falls open as the dark skinned, chubby cheeked girl, I recognise very well, appears on screen. Behind her the pale skin, brown eyes and curly blonde hair of the girl who declared herself my ¡®best bootcamp friend¡¯ the first time we met! ¡°Pvt Bailey, could you tell everyone watching how you¡¯re feeling right now?¡± asks the reporter, extending the mic to her. She leans in and says ¡°I mean¡­ I¡¯m absolutely ecstatic!¡­ Winning without even fighting is better than any of us could have hoped for!¡­ I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re allowed to show it but, just over there¡­¡± she points to her left and the camera pans that way to reveal a line of +4m tall, 6 limbed, tapir like creatures lining up to dump their weapons onto a massive pile under the supervision of Terran soldiers that they utterly dwarf!¡­ Apparently, they are allowed to show it ¡°¡­you can see we¡¯re just in the process of disarming the surrendered forces, at the moment¡­ We¡¯re separating out the wounded for treatment¡­ There has been some difficulty in communicating that no harm is going to come to them!¡± ¡°Do you feel any disappointment about the fact that you underwent initial training and aren¡¯t able to fight, Pvt Bailey?¡± says the reporter as the camera pans back to him and Kim. She shakes her head, emphatically ¡°Not at all! Like I said, I think this was the result we were all really hoping for!¡­ We¡¯re still going to need to occupy the planet until the War is over but, well¡­ speaking for myself, I couldn¡¯t be happier about it!¡­ Uhm¡­ I think my girlfriend would like to speak to some people back home, if that¡¯s alright?¡± Charlotte bustles in without waiting for an OK from the reporter and says ¡°Hi Mum! Hi Dad! Hi Tim! And Esme¡­ Esme Reid¡­!¡± Every eye in the room turns to look at me ¡°¡­we miss you here! I just know you and Oskar were innocent and I really hope that got proven as soon as we were gone!¡­ Thank you, Ken!¡± she says to the bemused reporter before the camera pans to exclude her and Kim from the shot. The man turns back to camera and professionally continues ¡°Well, there you have it¡­ A major steppingstone on the path to the galactic core has surrendered and is being occupied by the UTC¡­ it is still not certain that the dominoes will continue to fall but, from here, we are one step closer to ultimate Victory¡­ For today though, I say again¡­ the UTC are the Victors!¡± Another cheer goes up from the class. A thought occurs to me. I tug Oskar¡¯s sleeve to get his attention. He looks to me and I beckon him down. Bringing my lips an inch from his ear I whisper ¡°I¡¯ve thought of a name¡­ this one¡¯s a winner!¡± ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Friday, 7th of September, 2683 Terran Calendar--- The most beautiful girl in the Nine Realms stands in our quarters, looking in the mirror to check her appearance. ¡°You look fine, Esme. Let¡¯s just¡­¡± ¡°These videos might be his only record of us¡­! I can¡¯t do it with my hair all mussed up or a piece of spinach stuck in my teeth or whatever! I¡¯ll let you know when I look ¡®fine¡¯!!!¡± she snaps, seemingly only half in jest. I throw up my hands and allow her to preen for a few more minutes. I think this might be what you would call ¡®displacement¡¯(!) Finally, she huffs and plods over to one of the seats we¡¯ve set up, facing her holopad. She throws herself onto it. Her skin is a lot more tan now, than it was when we first met, from all the time we¡¯ve spent in deserts recently ¡­ It only enhances her beauty! ¡°Are you ready, Esme?¡± I ask, cautiously. ¡°No¡­ but I never will be¡­ let¡¯s just do it!¡± I nod and sit down on the seat beside her, half consciously folding my arms, protectively, across my stomach. ¡°Holo, record¡­¡± she orders. The recording light, on the sensor bar, illuminates. Esme begins to speak, looking at the camera. ¡°Hey, Victor¡­ my name¡¯s Pvt Esme Reid¡­and I''m your mum¡­¡± she gestures to me ¡°This is, Pvt Oskar Taylor¡­ your dad¡­¡± she¡¯s apparently forgotten that we¡¯re NCOs now, but I don¡¯t interrupt to correct her ¡°¡­and this, right here¡­ ¡± she gestures to her stomach ¡°¡­this is you¡­ If you''re seeing this, Victor¡­ it means that we¡­ didn¡¯t make it¡­ but you did!¡­ You''re still alive¡­ and you''re old enough to understand what you''re looking at¡­ what I''m saying to you¡­ Know this, Victor; I haven¡¯t even seen your face yet... and I already love you more than life itself!¡± As she speaks, I stare into the camera lens, trying in vain to peer through the veil of time to see my son as the man he might, one day, become. Remembrance, Chapter 16 of 28 ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 5th of February, 2684 Terran Calendar--- ---Southern England--- ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaAAAAAGHhhhHHH!!!!!¡± screams my red faced wife as she, almost literally, breaks my hand with the force of her grip. ¡°You¡¯re nearly there, Sublieutenant! Just a little further!¡± says the army doctor, reassuringly, clearly more perturbed by the display in front of him than he would be by having to saw off her leg! She completely ignores him, keeping her bright, emerald eyes fixed in a piercing gaze on my brown ones. Her brow is furrowed, the bridge of her nose creased, her nostrils flared and her teeth bare with rage as she snarls at me in a guttural, animalistic vocal register that I¡¯m surprised her body is even capable of producing ¡°YOOOUUU!!!¡­ YOU STUPID BASTARD! YOU DID THIS TO MEEEEE!!!!¡­ I SHOULD NEVER HAVE SHAGGED YOOOUUUUU!!!!! YOUR STUPID SEXY SHOULDERS! YOUR STUPID BROAD CHEST!!!!! ¡­ I COULD BARELY TAKE YOUR STUPID FAT COCK! WHAT POSSESSED ME TO THINK I COULD HAVE YOUR FUCKING BASTARD BABY!?!?!?¡­ FUUUUUCK YOU, OSKAAAR!!! DIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!!! FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUUUUUUUCKKKKYYYOOOOOOOUUU!!!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry to interrupt but¡­ did she say anything I might need to know, Sir?¡± asks the doctor, not being able to penetrate the thick Lallans she Is currently unable to avoid speaking. ¡°Just insults¡­ sort of¡­¡± I whince, unsure if the ¡®stupidness¡¯ of my oversized shoulders, chest and member really count as ¡®insults¡¯(!) The pain is excruciating as she crushes my hand in a, quite literally, vicelike grip! As bad as it is though, it pales in comparison to the pain she¡¯s in! No inference is necessary! I have never felt sympathy pain quite like this! It¡¯s as if some part of the normal separateness of thinking minds has been ripped away! The pain is so overwhelming that it cannot be contained by a single body and must spill out to wash over anyone who happens to be located nearby! The fear it fills me with is not rational¡­ I¡¯m not scared because I think I¡¯m in danger, because I think she¡¯s in danger, because I think the baby¡¯s in danger¡­ There is no ¡®because¡¯¡­ It¡¯s as if reason and fear have been entirely disconnected, allowing me a dose of raw, unfiltered terror!!! She screws up her eyes, banging her head against her pillow as she sobs pathetically ¡°Just cut him out of meeeee! It caaaaan¡¯t be any MORE painful than this already iiiis!!! Cut me up, take him OUT and sew me up after!!!!¡± ¡°She¡¯s asking for a caesarean section¡­¡± I relay to the doctor. ¡°Not possible at this stage, Ma¡¯am!¡± he communicates, simply. No answer comes from her but more screaming, incoherent sobs. Minutes pass¡­ or maybe centuries? It becomes a little difficult to remember a time when I wasn¡¯t sat in this chair, holding this screaming woman¡¯s hand, looking at her anguished face, hearing her tortured cries¡­ ¡°We¡¯re nearly there, Sublieutenant! Push!!! One more time, with everything you have!!!¡± She straightens her back and, gripping my hand with the same force with which she¡¯s crushing the hollow metal railing on the far side of the gurney, clenches her teeth and screams as every muscle in her body contracts. Some shudder inducing, squelching, vacuum sounds follow as a bloody, moving mass is ejected from my wife. Esme¡¯s screams subside to feebly exhausted pants of relief. I hear my son¡¯s voice wailing at the injustice of having been forced to be born(!) ¡°Skin-to-skin¡­¡± announces the doctor, passing my son (still attached to my wife by a horrific tentacle of Human flesh) to a nurse who hands him to her to hold. He looks like his entire little naked body has been smeared with a mixture of blood and petroleum jelly! It¡¯s getting all over Esme¡¯s front but she doesn¡¯t even seem to notice as she looks down at our son. She¡¯s so battleweary from the labour that I¡¯m worried that her feeble arms may not have the strength to hold him¡­ I prepare myself to catch him if she should let him fall¡­ but she doesn¡¯t¡­ Seeming to have instantly regained a total mastery of strength control (that she certainly did not exercise on my hand a minute ago(!)) she holds him with just enough strength to support him and nowhere near enough to crush his fragile little, soft boned body¡­ ¡°Clean and dry¡­¡± instructs the doctor as a towel is expertly manoeuvred around the blood and vernix covered infant, rendering him miraculously clean. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°That¡¯s 5¡­ Clamps!¡± he says, followed by a springloaded device being clipped onto the umbilical cord around 15cm from my son¡¯s naval and another one a few centimetres further along. The doctor extends a pair of medical scissors to me, handle first, reassuring me ¡°If you¡¯ve changed your mind¡­ we can take care of it¡­¡± I say nothing as I reach for the handle and take the implement. I open the jaws of the scissors and bring them to the space between the clamps. I wince as it takes me two or three cuts to get through the rubbery tube. If I were somehow able to do this without knowing that what I was cutting was my wife and child¡¯s shared flesh, I wouldn¡¯t be at all squeamish about it¡­ it would just feel like cutting a length of elastic¡­ Eventually, we¡¯re left alone. I¡¯m desperate for a chance to hold him but don¡¯t wish to say that I am¡­ My wife puffs through her nose and extends me the baby. ¡°Here¡­¡± she smiles, feebly ¡°¡­take him¡­¡± My heart in my throat, I extend my hands to what she holds as if it were a sacred relic of spun glass! I feel the weight of my child in my arms as I pull him toward me¡­ He¡¯s¡­ so light¡­ and¡­ yet¡­ the 4kg or so that I hold is just about the most precious lump of matter in the entire universe right now! I cradle the swaddled treasure to my chest, supporting his head against the crook of my right elbow. He¡¯s¡­ so¡­ tiny¡­! Somehow, his size reminds me of the first time I saw a humpback swim beneath my father¡¯s boat¡­ Seeing their size in books felt abstract and academic¡­ seeing their skeletons in museums felt like architecture¡­ Seeing a living one, in the wild¡­ it was not comparable¡­ It just hits you that that enormous mass is not a structure, nor a landform, nor a giant, dead, submerged tree¡­ it¡¯s a living, breathing creature¡­ Holding my son is like the opposite of that¡­ He¡¯s so tiny and, yet¡­ here he is!¡­ Not a toy, not a doll, not a statuette¡­ a living breathing Human¡­ to whom¡­ I am as that whale was to me! ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ say anything too horrible while I was out of my mind with the pain, did I¡­?¡± rasps Esme, her voice hoarse from screaming obscenities¡­ ¡°You told me to die, told me you regretted ever fucking me, told me to go fuck myself, told me I¡¯d done this to you and called Victor my ¡®fucking bastard baby¡¯¡­ seeming to have forgotten our lovely, intimate wedding ceremony last week(!)¡­ Tamsin and Rex were there(?)¡­ Sands and Robert too(?)¡­ You wore red and I wore green(?)¡­ Burrows officiated¡­ ringing any bells(?)¡± I smile, not taking my eyes off my son. ¡°Duuuuude?!¡± she groans ¡°The correct answer to that question was ¡®No, sweetie! Nothing I caught, anyway!¡¯!¡± Still looking at the minuscule face against my chest, I answer ¡°What a terrible example you wish me to set for our child, Mummy(!) Not 30 minutes old and you wish me to teach him how to lie(!)¡± ¡°It¡¯s called diplomacy, lad!¡± ¡°It¡¯s called ¡®deception¡¯¡­¡± She grumbles. My son stirs¡­ I gasp as I see his eyes open for the first time. He has the same vivid green eyes as his mother¡­ He has her soft featured face too¡­ I had always felt that, when people said things such as ¡®my heart was filled with love¡¯, that they were speaking in prosaic metaphor¡­ The feeling I have right now is quite unmistakeably love, quite unmistakeably in my literal heart and quite literally feels like it is being filled up and running over! --- Ma0219i164A¡¯s perspective--- ---Wednesday, 14th of May, 2683 Terran Calendar--- ---Southeastern England--- Ruby and I stand in the entrance to the Home, waiting. She¡¯s quite young and relatively new. She¡¯s only able to be here doing this job on account of her frail health, untreatable by current gene therapy, which excluded her from service. ¡°This your first time doin¡¯ this part, Ruby?¡± I ask the girl, knowing full well the answer. ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am¡­¡± she answers, timidly. ¡°Alright, kid¡­ I¡¯d be lyin¡¯ if I said it were gonna be easy¡­ just do your best¡­ and don¡¯t call me ¡®Ma¡¯am¡¯¡­ this ain¡¯t that kinda workplace. My name¡¯s Maia¡­¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡­ia.¡± she answers, causing me to giggle. When my husband woke me up, more than 200 years ago now, we managed a hospital together¡­ I continued doing that, long after he died¡­ At a certain point last century, I realised that the part of that job that gave me the most joy was¡­ all the stuff where I was looking after the kids¡­ so I changed careers. Of course, this new job isn¡¯t all peaches and cream! You have days like this, afterall. The couple showing up at my door, right now, are far from the first teenaged parents who¡¯ve come here with their baby in their arms¡­ but I believe they are the first teenagers to be married, employed and financially stable. I open the door and the trio enter. Ruby has a clear moment of being taken aback. They are quite visually striking! The tall, well built, dark haired man with brown eyes and a sharp face. The soft featured, wiry, green eyed, redhead holding their baby. Both of them wearing stylish service uniforms. This couple, that I met for the first time the best part of a year ago, might have had a lucrative career as models if not for the War(!) ¡°Sublieutenants Taylor¡­ you¡¯re here¡­¡± I say, managing my tone to the perfect balance of warmth and sombreness. Given the circumstances I don¡¯t say anything like ¡®it¡¯s lovely to see you¡¯ or ¡®it¡¯s wonderful you¡¯re here¡¯. ¡°We¡¯re here¡­¡± nods the girl. ¡°You¡¯re bein¡¯ deployed tomorrow?¡± She shakes her head ¡°The day after¡­ just wouldn¡¯t have time to come here tomorrow¡­ Did¡­ did you get the video diary I sent?¡± I confirm ¡°All 17 hours of it. The stories, the songs, the lullabies, the dances¡­ I¡¯ve watched it through, backed it up, here and remotely¡­ He¡¯ll see it.¡± ¡°And¡­ did the machine arrive?¡± she asks, clearly stalling. ¡°It did, Esme. I had it tested out, it¡¯s still producin¡¯ your milk¡­¡± ¡°OK¡­ erm¡­ genetic screens came up with nothing¡­ He¡¯s lovely and healthy¡­¡± The deep voiced man cuts in, startling Ruby slightly ¡°He hasn¡¯t inherited my ASC¡­ At least, he hasn¡¯t inherited the genetic predisposition to it¡­¡± I nod, not voicing any value judgement. Long moments of silence follow as the girl just looks at the 3 month old in her arms. ¡°Esme¡­?¡± I prompt, gently ¡°¡­Would you like to give him to Ms Williams now?¡± gesturing to the girl at my side. ¡°Erm¡­ Yes¡­ of course¡­¡± she says, still hesitating. She walks over to Ruby and starts to extend her arms¡­ then pulls back. ¡°What if¡­ we came back¡­ tomorrow?¡± she says, clearly bargaining. ¡°Esme, we won¡¯t have time¡­¡± provides her husband, gently and reasonably. ¡°What if we made time? What if we came here late? Whatifwe-whatifwejusthadhimonemoreday?! Whatifwedidn¡¯tgoatall?!Whatifwejustkepthim!?Whatifweranaway!?It''snot¡­!¡± ¡°Esme¡­¡± cuts in the man, firmly cutting short his wife¡¯s avoidant blather. The two share a few seconds of prolonged eyecontact, their expressions both different shades of heartbroken¡­ The girl is the first to break, looking down defeatedly and stepping forward to give her child to Ruby. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not fair¡­¡± she sniffles, quietly, tears starting to spill from her eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll keep him safe, Ma¡¯am¡­ Safe and healthy¡­ for as long as he needs!¡± volunteers a slightly breathless Ruby, impressing me. ¡°You can come and pick him up the moment you get back.¡± I add. The girl gives no answer bar a sniffle and a nod. She makes to go before turning back to plant one last kiss on her baby¡¯s forehead and touch her left hand to his chest. ¡°I love you, Victor¡­ Please, always remember that!¡± She steps away and the man steps forward, extending a single finger which the infant grasps onto. ¡°Goodbye, my son¡­¡± states the man, his tone level but nonetheless filled with emotion. Ruby and I watch in silence as the pair turn to leave. The man puts a strong arm around his wife. The moment she feels the contact she launches herself into his side, clinging to him desperately. The door closes but the wailing sobs are still clearly audible in the entrance hall. Remembrance, Chapter 17 of 28 ---Nathan¡¯s perspective--- ---Sunday, 18th of May, 2684 Terran Calendar--- ---Deep Space--- ¡°Where are you going with that, Sublieutenant?¡± I say, sternly, to the large man. ¡°My quarters, LtCpt Burrows.¡± he answers, simply. ¡°Food is not allowed in your quarters, Taylor¡­ You eat in the Mess, you know that!¡± Breaking his normal unflinching eyecontact, he answers ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not for me¡­ Sir.¡± I sigh. In retrospect, postpartum depression makes for a terrible combination with soldiery! I really hope the woman is able to recover before we arrive¡­ I might have to sideline her if not! It would be a shame to lose such talent¡­ ¡°Alright, Taylor¡­ I¡¯ll make an exception in this instance¡­ Please remind your wife about the briefing tomorrow morning. Attendance is mandatory!¡± ¡°Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.¡± says the soldier before carrying on with the tray of sustenance. ---Monday, 19th of May, 2684 Terran Calendar--- ¡°Greetings all!¡­ For those who don¡¯t know me, my name is Lieutenant-Captain Nathan ¡®Wellington¡¯ Burrows and I am the one selected to present this briefing to all of you¡­¡± I say to the theatre full of every junior officer aboard this particular ship. I see the Taylors, sat together. Esme Taylor does not look at all like she¡¯s paying attention. There¡¯s none of the truculent contempt her WO, Sands, told me she had when she first arrived at bootcamp. Rather, it is as if her body is here but her heart and mind, her spirit and soul, remained on Earth with the child she left behind. Continuing, I say ¡°Our estimated date of arrival on New Australia is 15 weeks from now, around the beginning of September¡­ Now, this planet has been under enemy occupation since the beginning of the War. We can¡¯t know how many survivors there are but, from the quantity of forces still tied up on the planet, we¡¯re fairly sure there are some. Our main objective is to liberate the planet¡­ either by compelling the surrender of the GU forces or compelling their rout¡­ Secondary objectives are locating and rescuing any survivors and linking up with local resistance forces¡­ Our best landing point has been determined as being here¡­¡± I bring up a 3D projection of the planet with the west coast of the single, pangaean supercontinent rotated to face my audience. A red circle appears around the point to which I am referring. ¡°¡­subject to change based on conditions on our arrival but, right now, the area around New ?anakkale seems like our best insertion point, based on preoccupation information.¡± Inwardly, I groan as a murmur goes around the room. Clearly, the ill portent of assaulting a town named ¡®?anakkale¡¯ is not lost on at least a few of these young men and women! I really wish there had been a single other point on the planet that was more promising, as promising or, Hell, even a slight strategic disadvantage might be worth taking so as to not draw the parallel to the ill fated WWI landing! I wish the Aussies had been more considerate of their future liberation forces when they named that town(!) Though, I don¡¯t suppose they gave much thought it would be assaulted¡­ at least, not by forces which they would wish to aid in keeping up the morale(!) The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Our entry will be completed by orbital drop pod. We will land and, immediately, disembark and disperse. Mobility will be key to prevent our forces being targeted from orbit!¡­ We may, while planetside, come in and out of naval support as the battle rages overhead. Simulations show the battle for orbital supremacy lasting some months. As a result, supplies will be carried from the drop pods as well as needing to be foraged from the land!¡­ We know that agricultural irrigation infrastructure was intentionally destroyed by the occupiers at the beginning of the War so we will likely not be able to rely on local forage to be all that plentiful¡­ Landing forces will consist of Army, Marine and Airborne troops as well as attached Humanitarian corps personnel¡­ we will quickly fan out from the drop point to clear the continent of ground based forces¡­ Some things you shall all need to bare in mind are¡­¡± ---later--- ¡°¡­and that concludes the briefing, everyone is dismissed except SubLts Taylor¡­ you two stay here.¡± The Scottish girl and the Doggerlander boy look mildly surprised to be singled out as everyone else begins filing out of the room, a few shooting them mildly curious glances. Once we are alone, I beckon to them with the face of a stern parent. They get up and walk to where I stand at the front of the room. Stopping around 1.5m away, they look at me expectantly. ¡°Listen, you two¡­¡± I sigh ¡°¡­I consider you two to be friends¡­ and, both as your friend and as your superior, I cannot allow this to continue!¡± ¡°Allow¡­ what to continue?¡± asks the girl, dully, speaking as if about to lose consciousness. ¡°This!¡± I gesture to her limply standing body ¡°The moping in your room, the only showing your face when absolutely required, the zombielike demeanour¡­ it¡¯s just not on!¡­ I¡¯m¡­ aware of what you¡¯re going through¡­ While I won¡¯t insult you by saying I ¡®understand¡¯ it or ¡®know what it¡¯s like¡¯, I understand that the grief will feel overwhelming¡­ But¡­ you are a Soldier¡­ and the Army cannot allow there to be Soldiers who are too depressed to discharge their duties¡­¡± Oskar is the one to say ¡°What do you suggest, Sir?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a suggestion, Sublieutenants¡­ I¡¯ve already spoken with Lieutenant-Colonel Wallace and she has agreed to the solution I proposed¡­¡± ¡°What solution¡­?¡± asks the girl, squinting at me as if she¡¯s having a hard time focusing on my words. ¡°Effective immediately, both of you are relieved of command over your respective squadrons.¡± Both of their faces fall. ¡°But¡­!¡± ¡°But what, Esme?!¡± I snarl ¡°Do you think you could effectively lead them through an engagement in the state your in!?¡± She thinks for a moment before looking ashamed. She doesn¡¯t answer. ¡°What will we be doing instead, Sir?¡± asks the boy, flatly and betraying no emotion. ¡°Starting tomorrow, you are going to be my personal attendants, you will get up when I get up and you will be right beside me the whole day unless I despatch you on an errand¡­ You will be busy¡­ and this arrangement will continue until I deem it appropriate to change, is that understood?¡± ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± responds the dark haired man. ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± answers the redheaded woman, half a second later. Sighing again, I explain ¡°I understand that it may seem somewhat cruel to answer your depression by increasing your workload, Esme¡­ And it may well not be the healthiest thing that could be done about it!¡­ I¡¯m just¡­ not sure what else to do besides keep you busy and hope it takes your mind off things!¡­ Try not to hate me too much, Sublieutenants¡­¡± The girl shakes her head ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t hate you, Sir¡­ It¡¯s probably a good thing that someone¡¯s giving me a kick up the arse¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you see it that way¡­ I¡¯ll see you in the morning. Dismissed.¡± ---Thursday, 10th of July, 2684 Terran Calendar--- The Taylors stand behind me while I discuss some trivial administrative matter with the handsome Shipmaster, on the Bridge. A side effect of always being flanked by these two is that people assume them to be my bodyguards and, thus, assume me to be much higher ranked than I am! The male Taylor certainly looks the part¡­ Though, I think his wife not looking the part ironically makes her look more the part! When coupled with the general brusque demeanour she¡¯s had since I assigned her this role, people seem to assume she must have special, hidden skill, not obvious from looking at her(!) Despite my uniform clearly displaying my rank insignia, this man is talking to me with the same demeanour that might be appropriate for a Colonel(!) The Soldier, formerly known as Reid, has certainly been shaken from her funk by the extra responsibility. She and her husband have been exercising in the gym when I do, She has been eating proper meals again¡­ She may not actually seem like she¡¯s enjoying herself, ever, but¡­ it¡¯s nice to see her taking care of herself, even if it¡¯s only because I¡¯m forcing her to! ¡°Yes, Sir. So, I wondered if it might be agreeable, this coming Monday, to¡­¡± whatever triviality the Shipmaster was about to say is cut short by the low humming noise that has been ever present these last 8 weeks suddenly ceasing. I see the blood drain from the Shipmaster¡¯s face as it drains from mine. He screams ¡°WARP INTERDICTION! SOUND THE ALARMS! ALL HANDS TO STATIONS!!!¡± Remembrance, Chapter 18 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Thursday, 10th of July, 2684 Terran Calendar--- ---Deep Space--- We¡¯re going to die¡­ 8 months of training to be a Soldier, 10 to be an Officer, only to be blasted out of the sky before my feet ever touch the soil of a planet other than Earth or the deck of an enemy ship! I¡¯m¡­ never going to see Victor again¡­ ¡°Jesus Christ!¡­ That¡¯s an O¡¯oan capital ship!!!¡± exclaims Burrows, clearly talking about the, ungodly massive, eldritch abomination at the centre of the fleet blockading the spacelane. That thing looks like the stuff of nightmares! It looks like the incarnation of that feeling you get when swimming in water you don¡¯t know the depth of! If I¡¯m ever able to do that again, that ship is what my thalassophobia is going to make me picture looming from the depths! ¡°Do we have any chance in a straight naval engagement, Sir?¡± Burrows asks the Shipmaster. The man, who clearly still hasn¡¯t recovered from being interrupted by an enemy attack while he was about to ask Burrows on a date, just stammers ¡°W-w-we might¡­ if we had the rest of the Fleet with us¡­ As it stands, we only have a few dozen ships here!¡­ The Fleet were meant to rendezvous a few days outside of the system¡­ They won¡¯t arrive until too late to matter!¡± ¡°Can we flee?¡± asks Burrows, seeming significantly more on top of the situation than the Shipmaster. He shakes his head ¡°N-no good¡­ Our exit momentum will have carried us well inside the interdiction field¡­ it would take us hours to escape it!¡± ¡°So¡­ we can¡¯t run¡­ and we¡¯ll die if we fight¡­?¡± says Burrows, his face making clear that he¡¯s furiously trying to calculate what that leaves. ¡°Maybe we could pull a Zhuge Liang and scare them off(!)¡± I quip (mostly to myself) under my breath. Burrows whips his head to me, his mouth open, his brow furrowed, his eyes wide. Was the joke that bad!? I didn¡¯t take Burrows for a man who¡¯d let himself get distracted by a bit of gallows humour! ¡°Reid¡­ that¡¯s brilliant!!!¡± he cries out, seeming to have forgotten the ceremony he officiated and the simultaneous name change I underwent. Is he¡­ is he making fun of me? He whips his head to the Shipmaster ¡°Sir, I have an idea!¡­ Actually, my subordinate had the idea¡­ what I have is a plan!¡± ¡°Err¡­ really?¡± says the Shipmaster to Burrows with a demeanour that suggests he thinks his obvious crush might be experiencing some sort of delirium to believe there¡¯s any hope in this situation. ¡°Yes!¡± says Burrows with all the confidence in the world ¡°But I¡¯m going to need to know two things! First: Can you act and, if not, second: Where do you keep the Earl Grey?¡± ---Oai¡¯uen¡¯s perspective--- ¡°[Admiral], the Terrans are adopting a peculiar formation¡­¡± says the attractive, young male [Navigator], emitting some airbubbles in his agitation as he does. ¡°On my console.¡± I command. The real time, 3D representation of the sensor data is projected in front of me. ¡°You¡¯re right, Au¡¯au! What¡­ are¡­ they¡­ doing¡­?¡± I scrutinise. There¡¯s a massive gap in their formation! The ships that look like troop transports are hanging around as if they think they¡¯re covered by much more threatening escorts than they actually are! These are some [minnows]!¡­ Why is the way they¡¯re moving making me so uneasy! It¡¯s as if they want us to wipe them out(!) This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Shouldn¡¯t they be attempting a futile escape or, alternatively, taking a much tighter and more defensive battle arrangement!? I should just give the order to engage¡­ Unless¡­ With floating horror, I realise why I¡¯m having such misgivings¡­ ¡°GET me a long range scan, Au¡¯au!¡± I snap. Startled, it takes him a moment to begin working. An agonising [minute] goes by before ¡°Nothing, Ma¡¯am¡­ there¡¯s nothing around us but the other convoy pockets we already knew about¡­¡± ¡°GET me ANOTHER one!!! Scan for all known methods of stealth and cloaking!!!¡± Two more agonising [minutes] pass. ¡°Readings indicate a 91.7% confidence that no known methods are concealing anything of any meaningful size within [50ly], Ma¡¯am.¡± reports Au¡¯au, nervously undulating his tentacles. I consider that¡­ 91.7% is actually slightly better than the scan is usually able to get¡­ Still though, that 8.3% uncertainty worries me when I look at the otherwise nonsensical arrangement of their ships! ¡°Coms¡­ hail the Terrans!¡± ¡°Yes, Ma¡¯am!¡± responds my [Coms Officer], immediately ¡°Hailing now, Ma¡¯am!¡± The call takes [17 seconds] to be answered¡­ I wince as the monstrous creature appears on screen. Male, I believe, from the broadness of his shoulders, shortness of his cephalic integument and lack of significant chest protrusion. He sits, reclined against his seatback, seeming entirely unperturbed. He bares his mouth bones at me in a way that makes it almost impossible to believe the computer filtered translation of the gesture as warmth and friendliness! ¡°Hello there¡­ Lieutenant-Captain Nathan ¡®Wellington¡¯ Burrows, at your service!¡­ What may I do for you?¡± ¡°Why have you taken that formation!?¡± I demand, not in the mood for flippant pleasantries. The flesh above the creature¡¯s blue eyes creases ¡°You¡­ cannot seriously expect me to-Oh! Is that my tea¡­?¡± The deathworlder looks to his right, his mouth curling upwards as an arm comes down holding a small, squat, porcelain container with a crescent handle and containing a substance hot enough to emit visible vapour into their gaseous environment! I stare, agog, as the man, nonchalantly, continues to not look at me, conversing instead with the out of frame Terran with the scarlet hair who brought him the beverage. ¡°No saucers, were there?¡± he asks, sounding mildly disappointed by the lack of whatever [saucers] are ¡°I suppose I shall make do without¡­¡± I [clear my throat] to regain his lapsed attention. He snaps back to me as if mildly surprised I¡¯m still here! ¡°Oh, Ms¡­?¡± ¡°[Admiral] Oai¡¯uen!¡± I say, incredulous at the disrespect! ¡°MY apologies!¡­ As I was saying; you can¡¯t possibly expect me to divulge strategically valuable data to an opposing Naval force¡­ can you?¡± he asks with what the translation flags as a bemused, mirthful expression. He picks up the vessel by it¡¯s handle and, with the digit V of that hand extended, takes a loud slurp of the scalding fluid. My chromatophores pulse with disgust at the noise! ¡°Aaaah¡­ just the way I like it, thank you Taylor¡­¡± he beams offscreen. ¡°You have a [dreadnought] incoming!¡± I accuse, finally managing to catch the distrait Terran¡¯s attention. Looking at me with a pretence of confusion, he asks ¡°¡­A dreadnought, you say? What on Earth makes you think that?¡­ You surely would have detected it on your long range scanners if we did!¡± His denial only makes me more certain! ¡°This is a trap! You are using this meagre force as bait while a [dreadnought], using hitherto unknown cloaking technology, lurks just outside of visual range waiting for us to commit ourselves!¡­ Your movements make no sense otherwise!¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± vocalises the man with disappointment I don¡¯t need the translator to flag ¡°¡­I promise we¡¯re all alone here¡­¡± I¡¯m not falling for that ¡°End transmission!¡± The call is instantly cut. ¡°Disengage interdiction! We are retreating!¡± I order. ¡°But, Ma¡¯am¡­¡± objects my son and bodyguard, Uu¡¯eo ¡°¡­if it¡¯s just one ship they¡¯re waiting for¡­?!¡± ¡°Have you ever FOUGHT a [dreadnought], whelp!?!?!?¡± I [snarl] at my clueless offspring. Ashamed, he curls a negation. ¡°Of course you haven¡¯t!¡­ Their name means ¡®That Which Fears Nothing¡¯¡­ and it¡¯s almost true!¡­ Did you see that Terran''s rock solid confidence while he casually sipped his [tea]¡­ That was the face of a deathworlder who fears nothing because he has one at his back!¡­ He¡¯s not even aboard!!!¡­ I would consider it a vainglorious suicide mission to engage one with five times the firepower we currently have at our disposal! We. are. RETREATING!¡± ---Nathan¡¯s perspective--- My hands tremble numbly, from the adrenaline comedown, as cheers erupt at the sight of the opposing force dematerialising from this location. I gasp to regain the breaths I no longer need to control! ¡°That was incredible, Lieutenant-Captain!¡± exclaims the Scottish Taylor, who¡¯s idea this was, smiling for the first time I¡¯ve seen since she last held her son ¡°You fucking scared them off with a smile and a cup of tea! How!?!?!?¡± ¡°Well¡­*huff*¡­¡± I say, lightheadedly ¡°¡­I am a thespian by training(!)¡­*huff*¡­ Though¡­*huff*¡­ playing the lead¡­*huff*¡­ in Exeter University¡¯s¡­*huff*¡­ production of Hamlet¡­*huff*¡­ a decade ago¡­*huff*¡­ wasn¡¯t, exactly¡­*huff*¡­ the level of grounding¡­*huff*¡­ I would have¡­*huff*¡­ liked(!)¡± She giggles at that. ¡°We¡¯ll have to stay here for a few days while the Fleet regroups¡­ If this lane might have another blockade, we don¡¯t want to be strung out like we are!¡± announces the Shipmaster, his face covered in a¡­ not unattractive amount of sweat. Deciding to ride the moment and take the risk, I propose ¡°Perhaps¡­ at some point¡­ while we wait¡­ you and I might¡­ go and see a film together¡­ in the onboard cinema¡­ Henry? ¡± He smiles ¡°I think I would like that¡­ Nathan.¡± Remembrance, Chapter 19 of 28 ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Thursday, 31st of July, 2684 Terran Calendar--- ---Deep Space--- ¡°So¡­?¡± I smile up at the woman lying on my chest. ¡°So¡­?¡± she smiles back down. ¡°How does it feel¡­ Lieutenant?¡± She giggles ¡°Like a promotion I didn¡¯t earn(!)¡­ Honestly, I thought it was a joke I was making!¡­ Burrows did the hard part!¡± ¡°Yes¡­ and he made Captain for it, didn¡¯t he? Scored himself a hot date with the Shipmaster too!¡± ¡°Puh-lease! The Shipmaster was about to ask him out when we got interdicted! Don¡¯t make it sound like he was all ¡®Wow, I¡¯m so impressed by your acting skills that I must have you now!¡¯¡± I crease my brow ¡°He was? How do you know?¡± She rolls her eyes and says ¡°Oh, come¡­ on, dude!¡­ Nobody¡¯s that oblivious!¡­ Always inviting him up to the Bridge to discuss things that the Army definitely don¡¯t need to weigh in on¡­ Acting flustered and shit¡­? You notice how it¡¯s always Burrows? Never any of the other Officers?¡± ¡°I assumed that was just because he felt they had a rapport¡­¡± ¡°Oh yeah¡­ they gonna ¡®build that rapport¡¯ aaaaall niiiiight looooong(!)¡± she smirks. ¡°Aaaaand¡­ you¡¯ve made it weird!¡± She chuckles and lies her head on my chest, pressing her ear to my solar plexus. I let her just listen to my heart and breaths for a while, as I stroke her hair. ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­ only come up with the idea¡­ You brought him the tea when he gave you the signal¡­¡± ¡°Oh, yeah(!) Role of a lifetime, that(!) Tea lady(!)¡± she mocks. ¡°I mean¡­ with almost no notice, you got cast in a crucial supporting role!¡­ If he¡¯d already had the tea or hadn¡¯t had it at all¡­ they might not have bought the deception¡­¡± I muse. ¡°Yeah but¡­ anyone can put tea down!¡± she protests. I shake my head ¡°Not anyone can put tea down while keeping nerves out of their face, sweat from their skin, not lingering too long in the shot, not seeming like your in a hurry to get out of the shot, not looking in the camera¡­ I don¡¯t think I would have, certainly!¡± She gives a chuckling sigh ¡°Alright¡­ you¡¯ve convinced me¡­ I¡¯m amazing(!)¡­ Definitely not a nobody from Stranraer who¡¯s only notable characteristic is weird biochemistry, resulting in pregnancy, resulting in Officer Training(!)¡± ¡°You¡¯re an everybody to me, Esme!¡± She bursts into giggles making me realise just how much I¡¯ve missed her joy and mirth while she¡¯s had low mood. ¡°That was the sweetest and weirdest thing you could possibly have chosen to say right there, lad!¡± she says, grinning up at me. I smile back and give her a squeeze. Then she runs a hand up my trunk in a way that¡¯s meaning is unmistakable. It¡¯s¡­ been a while¡­ We didn¡¯t really have the time when Victor was with us¡­ We have done it a few times since we came aboard but¡­ she quickly realised that sex wasn¡¯t filling the void¡­ She pulls herself up me, to press her lips to mine. Loath as I am to risk killing the mood, I wait until the kiss stops and ask ¡°Erm¡­ Esme? Should we maybe¡­ turn the suits around, first?¡­ I sort of feel like we¡¯re being watched!¡± I gesture to our suits of armour on their stands, at the far side of the small room, visually indistinguishable from two Soldiers of our exact proportions standing at the foot of our bed staring at us. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. She turns to appraise them. ¡°Would it be alright if we¡­ didn¡¯t?¡± she poses ¡°I kinda like it¡­ makes me feel like we¡¯ve got an audience!¡± a clear thrill in her voice. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not exactly the exhibitionist you apparently are¡­ but I can see that leaving them means more to you than turning them would mean to me¡­ so, fine¡­¡± She grins ¡°Thanks babes¡­ How about, to return the favour, I¡¯ll let you¡­ ¡®set the agenda¡¯, so to speak(!)¡± ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Friday, 1st of August, 2684 Terran Calendar--- ¡°You certainly have a spring in your step!¡± smirks Burrows. ¡°As do you!¡± I smirk back ¡°I take it you¡¯ve been enjoying the alone time you¡¯ve been spending with Shipmaster Dunn(?) Haven¡¯t been falling apart without us there to fetch your teas(?)¡± ¡°My cups of tea, Taylor(!)¡± he corrects with mock sternness ¡°My ¡®teas¡¯ would imply different kinds of tea¡­¡± ¡°Oh, yes(!)¡­ Sacrilege to get that wrong around you English(!)¡± I retort. ¡°Indeed(!)¡­ And, to answer your question, yes¡­ Henry and I have been enjoying ourselves¡­ Though, we¡¯re keeping it casual¡­ both combat veterans, burned too many times¡­ You know?¡± his voice turning mildly sombre. There¡¯s definitely a range of reactions to the trauma that nearly every Terran shares, living through this bloodbath of a War. Some, like Tommie with Rex (and¡­ I guess, me and Oskar) choose to cling more tightly to those around them. Some, like Burrows it seems, adopt this, sort of, casual aloofness. ¡®Aloof¡¯ isn¡¯t a word that really fits him, given how friendly and jokey he is but¡­ I realise now, there¡¯s definitely pain there that he¡¯s masking. He clears his throat and says ¡°Erm¡­ Esme-Sorry, I don¡¯t need to call you that anymore now that you¡¯re not the same rank as your husband, do I! Lt Taylor?¡± I smile ¡°You can keep calling me Esme, Captain(!)¡­ What do you need?¡± ¡°I was¡­ just going to say that¡­ I would be willing to talk to the Lieutenant Colonel about reinstating your and your husbands¡¯ squadron commands¡­ Afterall, you seem to be in a much better place, mentally, than you were when I had you assigned to me¡­ and after your Empty Fort idea saved the Fleet the other week, I¡¯d say you¡¯ve definitely earned it!¡± I chuckle ¡°Why does literally no one listen to me telling them all I did was crack a joke(!)¡­ Your performance saved the Fleet, Captain!¡± ¡°Regardless, the offer stands, Lieutenant.¡± he says, genuinely. I look into his blue eyes and mull it over for a little. ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t speak for Oskar, Sir¡­ but, personally, I kinda like us being your sidekicks(!)¡± I smile ¡°Obviously, I¡¯ll do it if ordered but you don¡¯t need to go out of your way¡­ I¡¯m comfy with the current arrangement, Sir!¡± He sighs in relief ¡°I¡¯m so glad!¡­ I would have hated to lose such talented tea fetchers(!)¡± I laugh and give him a hand gesture to let him know exactly what I think of that description of my role! ---Nathan¡¯s perspective--- ---Sunday, 7th of September, 2684--- I walk from the Chaplaincy, leaving the sound of the loud Norse Pantheonist prebattle ceremony behind me. The Anglican Chaplain¡¯s ministry I was attending was a far more subdued affair¡­ Just men and women making their peace with the Almighty. I join up with the Taylors who, not being a man or woman of faith, did not accompany me. The tall Doggerlander let me know that, if he were to attend, it would be the Norse warchant that he would be joining. Tomorrow, we shall make planetfall. Based on the long range telemetry, it looks like the landing will be a contested one¡­ Though, with the light lag at our current distance, that is based on how the site looked last year. It wasn¡¯t enough to alter the landing point though. We¡¯re still headed for the town on the coast with the cursed name, over my protests! ¡°Come on, you two¡­¡± I say, taking a fortifying inhale ¡°¡­Wallace has asked us to do a final readiness check for tomorrow and you know how she gets¡­ Hell hath no fury like Wallace confronted with a battle unready battalion(!)¡± ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 8th of September, 2684 Terran Calendar--- The Naval battle began a few hours ago. Every now and then a stray blast echoes as it strikes the ship but, in theory, we should be fairly safe here in the channel the Navy is creating for the landing forces. There¡¯s really not been anything for us to do since the battleships and starfighters engaged with the enemy except hurry up and wait(!) Right now, that¡¯s about to change¡­ My stomach feels like I¡¯m riding a rollercoaster as I march onto the drop pod, behind Burrows and next to Oskar. The rest of the company are already there, like us three, wearing full armour, their faces obscured by helmets, their assault rifles in their hands. Oskar has a custom, Viking style plasmasword on his hip. Most others, including me and Burrows, just have the standard issue, long, broad, double edged, leafblade sword, not having had any preexisting training with (or affinity for) any specific sword type. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen¡­¡± comes Burrows¡¯ voice over my helmet speakers ¡°¡­in a few minutes, we will make planetfall¡­ Intelligence indicates a high likelihood of this being a contested landing¡­ I know that, for many of you, this will be the first time you have seen actual combat and to you I say, remember your training¡­ and trust it¡­ Trust yourselves and trust the brave men and women at your sides!¡­ Remember that this is a Terran world, not a xeno one¡­ That means that any nonTerran you see is a combatant!¡­ That being said, I will not tolerate any violations of the Geneva Conventions on my watch!¡­ Our enemy may not be Human¡­ but that doesn¡¯t permit us to treat them with inHuman cruelty!¡­ Remember what we are fighting for! We are fighting for nothing more or less than our right to exist!¡­ Creation is large enough for all of us and we do not need to commit genocide the way our enemy believes they must!¡­ Finally, I ask that every. single. one. of you stand proud.. and know that, regardless of what happens now, the people of Terra owe you a great debt! You who stand here, ready to discharge your duty in their defence!¡± At that, the bulkhead seals behind us and there is a deep *clang* as the drop pod detaches from the troop transport. Remembrance, Chapter 20 of 28 ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 8th of September, 2684 Terran Calendar--- ---Orbit above New Australia--- fff?Through the gates of hell¡­ As we make our way to heaven¡­ Through the Nazi lines¡­ PRIMO VICTORIA!!!?fff Come the intense lyrics over my helmet speakers. My helmet¡¯s interior display shows me Esme as she turns to the Captain and snorts ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for a metal fan, Cap(!)¡­ I¡¯d¡¯ve thought you¡¯d¡¯ve selected a bit of Wagner or Tchaikovsky or something(!)¡± speaking quietly enough that I¡¯d guess her words are only being sent to his helmet and mine. ¡°Please¡­ give me more credit than to think I¡¯d go with anything as overplayed as Wagner(!)¡­ I did actually consider the 1812 Overture but it¡¯s so long we wouldn¡¯t be able to complete it before we landed¡­ It¡¯s also a bit of a slow builder¡­ even if the crescendo is incomparable!¡­ This piece was simply the one that spoke to me!¡± responds Burrows, his voice absent its usual mirth. ¡°Fair enough¡­¡± shrugs my wife. I look around at the other Soldiers of the company. Some are sat, stoically. Some are engaged in various faiths¡¯ postures of prayer. A few are actively beating their fists against their breastplates to get themselves fired up. The pod has no windows¡­ There is a pragmatic reason for that; windows would compromise its structural integrity. But there¡¯s also a psychological reason; windows would allow us to see the antiair fire being levelled at us. They would allow us to see the drop pods besides us being blasted into flaming wreckage. They would allow us to see the size of the ground forces we are about to engage in combat with. The one thing they would not allow us to see would be the shot that would kill us all¡­ That¡¯s the more pertinent reason drop pods are windowless. If it were just about the structural integrity, a simple solution would be sensors on the outside and display screens on the walls inside, working more or less the same way as our helmets. fff?On the 6th of June¡­ On the shores of western Europe¡­ 1944!!!?fff Comes the voice of the long dead singer. My stomach swoops as I realise we must almost be at the ground. fff?D-day upon us!!!?fff The song concludes at the same moment as the drop pod makes planetfall. An alarm sounds and the ramp swings down, crashing to the red dusty ground beneath us. Clearly, whatever strategic value this place had as a landing point was also inferred by the enemy forces, as we¡¯re already being shot at! ¡°FORWARD!!!¡± screams Burrows. A deafening battlecry plays over my helmet as the company charge! I join my own voice to the din as we run forward. Exiting the pod, I¡¯m able to see thousands of Terrans making their landing around us. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Airborn troops are already streaking overhead toward the fortifications in front of us. Great armoured vehicles are dropped from their own specially adapted orbital transports to roll along beside us. Mortar shells blast the sand. Our armour may be bombproof but, with no internal dampening, getting hit by a bomb doesn¡¯t actually need to get through our armour to kill us! Our organs would be ripped free of our peritonea by the rapid acceleration. No use thinking about it. Mounted machineguns spray fire at us but the durasteel does its job! Those hit quickly find their feet again and resume the charge. ¡°D Platoon! Take out that nest on our right! B platoon! That bunker!¡± commands Burrows in between firing off his own gun. A nearby tank lines up its turret with a building on the hillside and fires a shell over us that reduces it to rubble. I make it to a trench and jump down. I definitely wouldn¡¯t have been able to land a jump of that height in full armour a year and a half ago but, after so much training, I barely even notice the weight of the armour. I round a corner and find myself face to face with a behemoth xeno, plasmaweapon drawn. Reflexively, rather than levelling my gun at him, I shoot out my hand, grasp his wrist and throw him into the side of the trench with enough force that he dies instantly! Only afterward do I realise that that was the first time I¡¯ve ever touched a nonTerran¡­ it was the first time I¡¯ve ever even clearly seen one in the flesh, not counting the indistinct shapes I was able to make out, crossing from the drop pod. He died so easily! It hits home, in a way that being told it a million times can¡¯t adequately get across, just how much we physically outclass them! That was like throwing a 3m mannequin made of soggy polystyrene! The squelching sound he made as his body broke was utterly sickening but I don¡¯t really have time to dwell on it! We have a planet to liberate! ---Tlorn¡¯s perspective--- ¡°Sir! It¡¯s lost! We must abandon the town!¡­ The Terran''s are tearing through our fortifications like they¡¯re not there! This position is not defensible! We need to go!¡± counsels my currently agitated attendant, Vrurm. Looking out at the coastal plain below, seeing the hordes of metal clad monsters violently ripping apart the fortifications built to stop them doing exactly what they are doing, I turn to him and silently gesture in the affirmative. ¡°Order a full retreat! Ready the [Commandant]¡¯s shuttle and escort!¡± Vrurm shouts as we turn to hurry through the halls of the building being used as our base of operations. We make it to the rooftop platform where my shuttle is parked. I climb aboard and take a seat and, moments later, we ascend. I¡¯m granted a last view of the battle that stands testament to my unfitness for command before it vanishes. I feel relieved to be temporarily headed away from the army of monsters toward the relative safety of planetary Command in New Canberra but, at the same time, I know that safety won¡¯t last long now that they¡¯ve made landfall! Vrurm is looking at a monitor when his face falls in horror. ¡°We¡¯ve lost Escort 9!¡± I straighten up ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anything.¡± ¡°We¡¯re travelling multiple times the speed of sound, Sir. You wouldn¡¯t hear it¡­ Escort 3 is down!¡± I look out of the window just in time to see one of my escort vehicles careening down to the ground below. Behind us is a formation of deathworlders, flying through the air without the aid of ships, defying their nature as a groundborne lifeform, trusting only to their body mounted propulsion to keep them aloft, their light armour to protect them from the crushing weight of air they must be impacting at this speed and their own instincts and training to keep them from impacting eachother in the air! The Terrans'' lack of mastery of neural interfacing technology means that they are controlling their flight manually! I watch as one of them flashes across the back of another of my escort, severing its engine and causing it to spin earthward! ¡°That¡¯s Escort 5 down!¡± ¡°Increase speed!¡± I shout. ¡°Sir, I think it¡¯s a little¡­¡± *THUNK* Out of the window, I¡¯m able to see a pair of armoured, plantigrade legs, standing on my shuttle. I see and hear the *slash* of a thin plasmablade, followed by an engine seeming to eject itself backwards! The deathworlder releases their grip on my shuttle as we go down. The craft hits the ground with a deafening sound but, mercifully, the inertial dampening holds and the crash is not fatal! No one says a word as four Terrans touch down on the dry, sandy terrain outside. The shortest one draws her needlelike sword and ignites it as she walks toward the side of the vehicle. ¡°Sir, I need to teach you a Terran phrase!¡± says Vrurm, seriously. ¡°What¡­!?¡± ¡°No time to explain, Sir! When they make it in here, nobody take any aggressive action and you need to say four syllables to them so they don¡¯t kill us¡­! Can you do that, Sir?!¡± ¡°I¡­ err¡­ yes¡­¡± Vrurm nods and teaches me the phrase. My breathing is fast as I see the sword pierce the hull of the craft between the fuselage and the door. It slices upward, neatly severing the locking mechanism. The Terran draws a pistol and kicks open the door, pointing the firearm at my bodyguards and Vrurm and the plasma[rapier] at me. Two of her cronies enter behind her. Seeming to have satisfied herself that the others aboard are adequately covered, the small deathworlder turns her attention to me. The glowing sensors of her helmet looking up at me as she points the blade up in a 45¡ã angle, at my throat. ¡°Suh rendah!¡± she commands. Terrified, I raise all four of my hands and repeat the phrase that Vrurm just taught me ¡°Wii¡­ soo¡­ ren¡­ dar!¡± Remembrance, Chapter 21 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Friday, 31st of October, 2684 Terran Calendar--- ---Western Pangaea, New Australia--- I have never, in my life, worn this much makeup! The tan skin I¡¯ve had for a little over a year now is completely covered, across my face, neck, shoulders, arms, hands and shins, in a thick layer of white paint. My thick, scarlet hair is temporarily died even darker than Oskar¡¯s! The strapless, white dress with black trim and a black cincher is the fanciest looking dress I¡¯ve ever worn, including my wedding dress! Though, in reality, it¡¯s much more cheaply made than that! My heart flutters as I hear Pvt Ortega start to play the intro. His Spanish guitar is soon joined by a base guitar, a bongo beat and a single trumpet, being played by Sgt Wilson, Pvt Wainwright and Pvt Becker, respectively. Then, from the far side of the stage, he steps out¡­ Wearing a set of black trimmed, white coattails and a black ribbon bowtie, standing well over 2m tall in his black, high heeled boots, his face and hands are painted the same white as half my body! He has shiny black claws, adhered over his fingernails, and red contact lenses covering his pupils. He holds a microphone in his right hand. He matches me in every way, except his hair, being naturally black, didn¡¯t need to be dyed. There is a very female dominated cheer of appreciation as he appears. Hands off ladies(!) He opens his mouth, wide enough to reveal false fangs, adhered over his canines, and starts singing, rapidly: f??No me importa si me cortan la respiraci¨®n!?f I jump out, greeted by a distinctly male dominated cheer of appreciation which, thankfully, isn¡¯t loud enough to interrupt my amplified intro line: f??Lo han tratado un mont¨®n!?f I sing loudly, a few octaves above Oskar, and make sure to fully display my prosthetic teeth as I pose for the tent full of Soldiers, cheering up at the two of us dancing together on the stage and singing in a language that neither of us speaks. He leans down and affects a subtle, smug expression: f??Y si me pon¨¦s una bala en mi coraz¨®n!?f Bringing my free right hand to the left side of my chest to perform a pumping motion over my heart, I shake my head and sing into the microphone in my left hand: f? ?No palpita nada mi coraz¨®n!?f Answering my headshake with his own, he sings: f? ?Sinceramente, casi no hay manera de matarme!?f I add: ff? ?De asustarme!?ff Together, we harmonise: f? ?Mientras, yo no salgo cuando est¨¢ brillando el sol!?f I raise a single, clawed finger to the side of my mouth and, careful not to smudge the jet black lipstick, thoughtfully, nod: mp? Pu¨¦s, si, tienes raz¨®n.?mp The smiles on the faces of the hundreds of people looking at our silly song and dance are a lovely birthday present! Even LtCol Wallace looks like she¡¯s enjoying herself and she literally has a third of her name denoting her generally sour, bitter attitude(!) Looking at Oskar, I have to say that Pvt Webber was right when she was designing our costumes¡­ the splashes of black really are more suggestive of Vampires than they would be if we¡¯d gone for all white clothes and hair, like I suggested! ¡®If you have all white clothes, white hair, white skin and red eyes, you won¡¯t look like Vampires, you¡¯ll look like two albinos on your way to a funeral(!)¡­ The black trim, hair, claws and lipstick is necessary to highlight your pale skin by contrast!¡¯ Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. She¡¯ll definitely have a future as a costume designer¡­ if she makes it through the War. We didn¡¯t have too long to rehearse this¡­ We¡¯ve only had orbital supremacy for the past two weeks or so, finally allowing us a chance to set up camp and take a break from the constant movement! The Hallowe¡¯en Variety Show was announced at that point, clearly as an effort to boost morale, what with the psychological tole that the withering heat, exhausting mobility and the constant fear of being targeted from orbit has been taking on us since we made planetfall¡­ to say nothing of the effect of having to slaughter xenos, in the thousands, who are either unwilling or unable to surrender¡­ This show is just the mood lifter everyone needs right now! Oskar and I aren¡¯t exactly great dancers (having been selected for this number much more on the basis of how good we¡¯d look as Vampires than anything else) but we¡¯re able to step in time with the beat at least¡­ and we can carry a tune, even if neither of us can do much more than trust to Ortega¡¯s translation of the lyrics(!) I don¡¯t imagine that you need to speak Spanish to get the idea that we¡¯re Vampires singing about being Vampires but I bet anyone here who does speak Spanish is getting more out of this! The lights go out, plunging the room of variously costumed privates into almost pitch blackness. A few in the audience shriek in surprise but the noise quickly subsides as they realise the music hasn¡¯t stopped and infer that this must have been planned. I know there are four points of shining red light in the darkness¡­ Though, I¡¯m only able to see two of them! Below Oskar¡¯s contact lenses, fluorescing red in the UV light that our bodies are (otherwise invisibly) bathed in, his mouth opens to reveal a set of glowing white, fluorescent teeth as we harmoniously sing: fff? ?Porque soy Vampiro! ?Nac¨ª Vampiro! ?Mor¨ª Vampiro! ?Segu¨ª Vampiro! ?La sangre brota Es tu arteria rota! ?Porque soy Vampiro! ?Nac¨ª Vampiro! ?Mor¨ª Vampiro! ?Segu¨ª Vampiro! ?Llena mi boca En esta noche loca!?fff The crowd cheer in appreciation for the glowing white teeth and glowing red eyes, attached to two silhouettes singing our hearts out! The lights come up and Pvt Webber comes on stage, dressed in an old timey outfit. She¡¯s the shortest person in the battalion, as far as I¡¯m aware (there can¡¯t be many, since a height of less than 155cm would disqualify you from service), and that, coupled with the frilly, innocent outfit she designed for herself, does a great job of making her look like a helpless damsel as Oskar and I descend on her, still singing, our fangs bare and hungry expressions on our faces! We chase her around the stage in a choreographed dance. The audience seem to be enjoying the slapstick as, to the beat, she takes out a bulb of garlic which we recoil from. I knock it from her hand. Then, she takes out a silvered crucifix, which Oskar knocks away, doing a good job of play acting at having burned himself on it. Finally, she takes out a small vial and flings it¡¯s contents at us, careful to aim for our clothes, not our made up skin. The two of us pull faces of pain and stumble back, still singing. She takes the opportunity to ¡®escape¡¯ off stage and we look to eachother and shrug, in unison. At this point, Ortega and Wilson stand up beside Becker. Wainwright remains seated over her bongos but joins her voice to the other two¡¯s harmony (Becker¡¯s mouth is a little otherwise occupied with his trumpet(!)) mf??Oh-Oh-Oh-Oooooh!?mf Oskar throws out his arms and sings, in his baritone voice: ff? ?Chupando!?ff Our backup singers repeat: mf??Oh-Oh-Oh-Oooooh!?mf modulating the notes upward. Oskar repeats: fff? ???Chupando!!!?fff I cut in with: ff? ?La sangre tiene un gran sabor!?ff and, as I do, I notice a worried looking Burrows whispering something in Wallace¡¯s ear. Her expression goes grim. Oskar and I repeat the final verse with our backup singers and, the instant the last notes of Ortega¡¯s guitar fade, LtCol Wilhelmina ¡®Citron¡¯ Wallace picks up her holopad and brings it to her lips. Her sour voice, speaking English with an Edinburger accent, comes loud and clear over the same speakers that were just amplifying me and Oskar. ¡°Attention all: I have just been informed that a fresh, enemy Fleet has just appeared in system. Regrettably, I am forced to cancel all further festivities while we prepare to go mobile¡­ If you are yet to give your performance, we will attempt to continue the latter part of the show if and when orbital supremacy is regained.¡± A groan goes round the room. ¡°Normally, I would instruct everyone to be ready to break camp in 60 minutes. However, with the proportion of us that aren¡¯t properly dressed at the moment¡­¡± she gestures round the room to all the Soldiers in the guise of ghosts and ghouls ¡°¡­I think I can give you 75. No longer! I do NOT want us to get struck with the fire of an angry god from above while waiting for you lot to wash off your make up!¡­ Hopefully, the time we¡¯ll need to remain on the move won¡¯t be long!¡± ---Srassiahsk¡¯s perspective--- I look down at the planet below. My second in command, Ssafazaoz, is beside me. My tail coils in excitement. ¡°This War¡­ is the greatest thing that has happened to Sahak since we joined the Galactic Union!¡± I say, eagerly. ¡°You think so, Ma¡¯am?¡± says Ssafazaoz, his tail letting me know that he is much less enthusiastic about it than I am. ¡°Yes!¡± I answer, emphatically ¡°Our Representative to Parliament sat in the 147th row, before the War! Now, he sits in the 5th!¡­ I¡¯m certain that, after we win the War, the Sahasi will be granted increased colonisation rights and greater GU subsidisation!¡­ They finally understand the value of having a species of martial roughworlders around! They¡¯ll want us ready for the next time they need to call on us to bail them out!¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ if we win the War, Ma¡¯am¡­¡± says the small male, dubiously. I turn to him, my fangs bare in disapproval, as I hiss ¡°Ssafazaoz¡­ On account of our friendship, I shall ignore that little indiscretion for now, but do not let me catch you spouting defeatism in front of the troops! Am I CLEAR?!¡± Shrinking back from my open mouth, he gestures submission with his tail and says ¡°Of course not, Ma¡¯am¡­ My apologies.¡± ¡°Good¡­ now¡­ ready our forces¡­ we have a hunt to begin!¡± Remembrance, Chapter 22 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Saturday, 13th of December, 2684 Terran Calendar--- ---Central Pangaea, New Australia--- I stand on the inside of the curtain, in the cave nook that Burrows has made his office. He¡¯s staring at the screen of his collapsible desk and the various bits of administration on it. ¡°So¡­ Lieutenant¡­¡± he says, frowning and not looking up at me while he works ¡°¡­you want to put Jenkins on respite duty?¡± ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± I say, trying not to show my exhaustion. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Sir, you saw how he was after today¡¯s engagement¡­ That was a fullblown CSR episode¡­ He¡¯s utterly unfit for active combat right now.¡± He sighs and sits up in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°I saw, Esme¡­ I did but¡­ what do you want me to do with him?¡± he asks, not opening his eyes. ¡°Put him on sentry duty at the camp, put him in charge of cooking or cleaning¡­ put him somewhere where he¡¯s less likely to breakdown in tears about how many people he¡¯s had to kill and watch die¡­¡± ¡°Esme¡­ I appreciate the hard position you¡¯re in, since you took over Command of Lt Vickers¡¯ platoon, but¡­¡± ¡°They¡¯re my platoon now, Sir.¡± I state, simply. He gives a tiny nod before continuing ¡°Regardless¡­ If I set that precedent¡­ I fear it will only be a matter of time before half the company are returning from engagements in blubbering fits, hoping to get put on camp duty!¡± ¡°Sir¡­¡± I say, letting some ferocity into my voice ¡°¡­Jenkins. is. a. fucking. liability right now!¡­ With his mental state, he cannot be counted upon to properly discharge his duties!¡­ If he randomly performs a suicide charge, or curls up in a ball, or just struts around singing nursery rhymes, or whatever other unpredictable shite he might do the next time we get attacked, he might get the rest of his section killed!¡­ Without them and their support, you might lose the whole platoon!¡­ He¡¯s a weak link at the moment¡­ the pragmatic thing to do is to take him out of the chain!¡­ A stitch in time to save nine! Please trust me to be able to discriminate malingers from Soldiers who¡¯re having genuine mental health crises and give the fakers a good smack to the head, Sir!¡± He finally looks at me, letting me see the dark circles under his eyes. Several long moments of silence follow. He finally sighs ¡°Alright¡­ your reasoning is¡­ sound¡­ I suppose he¡¯s not doing morale any favours either¡­ I¡¯ll put him on camp duty for the time being¡­ but don¡¯t advertise that to the others! When they ask where he is, just tell them ¡®camp duty¡¯ without elaborating!¡± ¡°They¡¯re none of them stupid, Sir¡­ I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be able to work out the ¡®why¡¯¡­¡± I say, relieved that he¡¯s seen sense. ¡°I¡¯m sure they will too but, this way, we don¡¯t directly establish it as a precedent!¡­ It becomes ¡®Jenkins had a mental breakdown and got put on camp duty¡¯ rather than ¡®If you have a mental breakdown, then you will be put on camp duty¡¯!¡± ¡°Alright¡­ Thank you, Sir.¡± I nod. ¡°Is there anything else, Lieutenant¡­?¡± I shake my head ¡°No, Sir.¡± ¡°Good. Dismissed.¡± ---Tuesday, 1st of January, 2685 Terran Calendar--- Oskar¡¯s birthday and the second anniversary of us getting together and here I am spending it trudging across the scrub without him. Obviously, not every personal landmark gets to be celebrated when you¡¯re deployed¡­ I¡¯d still really have preferred if our platoons could have at least been dispatched together! We reach the base of a sheer, red rock cliff. In front of us is a crack, wide enough to drive a large armoured vehicle through, sloping down between the rock faces. Something about it makes me¡­ uneasy¡­ Well¡­ this is the way¡­ ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I say, my helmet transmitting the order to everyone else¡¯s without the need to shout. I put my left foot forward. ¡°I¡¯d not go down there if I was you wankers!¡± comes an unfamiliar voice from behind us. I wheel around, gun raised, a split second ahead of my subordinates. Thankfully, everyone¡¯s trigger discipline holds long enough for me to ascertain that the one who startled us is a Human. ¡°Guns down.¡± I order, catching my breath ¡°Christ, kid! Do I need to tell you what an absolutely stupid idea it is to startle two dozen folk with assault rifles!?¡± The boy points down the gulch and cocks his eyebrow ¡°Not half as stupid as goin¡¯ down there¡¯d be!¡± I narrow my eyes (not that he can see that) and appraise the child. He stands about a head shorter than me. Maybe 12?¡­ 13?¡­ Pubescent, certainly. His face tells me he¡¯s a Sapiens of mostly European extraction (also given away by his shaggy, dark blond hair and blue eyes) though, I¡¯d hazard, he might have had a nonEuropean grandparent, from the tanness of his skin (a tiny bit too dark just to be explained by the sun). He¡¯s extremely skinny and wears a sleeveless outfit that has clearly been entirely cobbled together from hunted leather by someone who is self taught in sartorial applications! His feet are bound with cloth but large parts of the bare soles are simply resting on the sand. On his right hip, a weatherbeaten dagger hangs in such a way as to be easy to draw with either hand. His accent marks him as a New Australian. He¡¯ll¡¯ve spent the past six years living under occupation¡­ It occurs to me that he must have followed us here without allowing himself to be spotted by any of the men and women under my command! If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He¡¯d surely know better than to play a practical joke on soldiers actively engaged in the business of liberating his homeworld, right? Pvt Marley starts ¡°Ma¡¯am, he¡¯s just a kid¡­ lets go! We¡¯re losing dayli¡­¡± I hold up my hand and she falls silent. ¡°Better units than this have succumbed for lack of the kind of intel that this kid seems to be offering us, Private¡­ Take 5, everyone¡­ I¡¯m gonna hear him out¡­¡± Clearly relieved for the chance to rest, my platoon begin searching around for places to sit and drink from their canteens. I stride up to the child, stopping when I¡¯m about 2m away. I don¡¯t remove my helmet as I introduce myself ¡°Lt Esme Taylor¡­¡± The boy hesitates for a moment before reciprocating ¡°Steve¡­ Steve Kelly¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you, Steve¡­ Now, could you tell me what the problem is with this pass?¡­ Why would we be stupid to go this way?¡± Rather than answering me, he grins and chuckles ¡°You speak really weird!¡± Sighing, I refrain from pointing out that, to me, he¡¯s the one speaking weird or that I¡¯m heavily register shifting into standard English and I¡¯d sound a lot weirder if I was speaking my natural Lallans! Instead, I just answer ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯m Scottish¡­ Now, about the ravine?¡± ¡°You¡¯re from Earth?!¡± he says, his face lighting up. ¡°Steve! Focus!¡­ The ravine!?¡± I snap, losing my patience at his distractibility. ¡°The what?¡± he frowns. ¡°This path! Why shouldn¡¯t we go down it?¡± I gesture down the narrow gorge. ¡°Oh¡­¡± he says, looking bemused ¡°¡­fulla belchers is why!¡± ¡°And¡­ Steve¡­ baring in mind that we¡¯re not from this planet, could you explain to me what a ¡®belcher¡¯ is?¡± He gestures, outlining an imaginary object about a metre across, in front of himself ¡°Animal¡­ ¡¯bout this big¡­¡± ¡°And¡­?¡± I say, shaking my head, nonplussed ¡°¡­they¡¯re dangerous or something?¡± failing to see what threat an animal that size could possibly pose to this many durasteel armoured, assault rifle wielding Humans! He smiles and shakes his head ¡°Belchers ¡¯emself? Naaah! Harmless!¡­ You could walk right up to ¡¯em and push ¡¯em over and they¡¯d not do much more ¡¯an grunt at ya!¡± ¡°Then¡­?!¡± ¡°The gas is what¡¯d kill ya!¡­ Guessin¡¯ those helmets ain¡¯t airtight, are they?¡± ¡°Gas?¡± I ask, alarmed. ¡°Yeah¡­ they¡¯re mostly stomach¡­ Brew up these lethal fuckin¡¯ fumes! Belch it out and it kills things that breathe it, then they eat ¡¯em!¡­ They like to hang out in places like this ¡¯cause there¡¯s plenty o¡¯ hidin¡¯ spots for ¡¯em, the wind can¡¯t easily get in and the path is bowl shaped to let the gas pool at the bottom¡­¡± I release an exasperated groan before saying ¡°I don¡¯t suppose, Steve¡­ that you might be having a jolly old laugh at our expense, is there? ¡®Belchers¡¯ aren¡¯t just New Australian ¡®drop bears¡¯¡­ are they?¡± ¡°I promise you that belchers¡¯re real and the gas will kill you! 200m in, you¡¯d start feelin¡¯ drowsy. Not long after¡¯d be the point o¡¯ no return, 300m you¡¯d collapse and the belchers¡¯d crawl out to chunder their guts up on ya! Though¡­¡± he grins ¡°¡­as an Australian, I am honour bound to insist that drop bears¡¯re also real(!)¡± I roll my eyes at the kid¡¯s flippancy. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose there¡¯s another way through you could show us?¡± it¡¯s going to mean calling off the raid, if not! He frowns ¡°I can¡¯t show ya¡­¡± I narrow my eyes (again, not that he¡¯d be able to see that through my helmet) ¡°What¡¯s with that emphasis, lad?¡­ Who can if not you?¡± ¡°I¡¯d¡­ have to get my grandad¡­¡± ¡°What, he¡¯s the only one who knows the way?¡± I ask, confused at the absurdity of what he¡¯s implying. Shaking his head emphatically, the boy answers ¡°Nah, nah¡­ I know the way¡­ I just can¡¯t show you it¡­¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I ask, my tone flat, since I¡¯m not a little irritated with the way this situation is developing. Sincerely, he closes his eyes and states ¡°The Partisan Code¡­¡± ¡°The what?¡± ¡°Far as we can, we don¡¯t share information on our movements, locations, secret paths and stuff¡­ Means, if one band gets caught, Vlixie¡¯s forces can¡¯t torture the whereabouts of all the surrounding bands out of ¡¯em! Safety, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°O¡­K¡­ but where does your grandad come into this, lad?¡± ¡°Oh¡­ yeah, he¡¯s my Band¡¯s leader¡­ He¡¯s the only one who could decide to make an exception for ya¡­¡± Quite exasperated, I say ¡°Alright, lad¡­ We¡¯ll wait here¡­ could you bring him to us¡­¡± The boy frowns ¡°I¡¯ll get him but¡­ don¡¯t wait here¡­ Unlikely but not impossible that the gas might spill out and kill yah!¡­ Move away from the fumes!¡± ¡°Uh¡­ sure but how will your grandad know¡­?¡± The boy laughs, heartily ¡°He¡¯ll find you, Lady! No worries!¡± And with that, he turns and disappears. Despite looking right at him, I¡¯m unable to keep track of him for more than a few seconds before he just vanishes into the brush! ¡°Alright troops, we¡¯re moving¡­¡± I order. We¡¯re waiting for about 40 minutes, after we¡¯ve moved far enough away from the death ravine to set down again, before a man appears. He¡¯s slightly above average height, maybe 190cm, and bears a gnarled, red, wooden staff, the same height, bound in twine. He wears a red bandana on his forehead and a long, yellowy brown, sleeveless tunic over his torso. Beneath the tunic, a cloth wrap is visible on his upper legs. His feet are also wrapped and, over the tunic, he wears a simple knotted belt with a large kukri hanging from it at his left hip. Even having much darker skin, brown eyes and dark, curly hair (with just the suggestion that he might be about to start greying) the man¡¯s family resemblance to his grandchild is strikingly obvious! He looks to be in his late fifties but, if he has a teenaged grandson, he¡¯s probably a bit older than that. Unlike Steve, he¡¯s relatively muscular and fit looking, despite his age! I stand to greet him. Transferring his staff to his left hand, he grips my armoured right in a handshake. ¡°Lt Taylor, right?¡± he smiles. His voice is deep and gravelly and he trills his ¡®r¡¯s the same way I do, even though he has a thick Aussie accent, not normally known for trilling. ¡°The very same¡­ Your name, Sir?¡± ¡°Yarran¡­ Yarran ¡®Axe¡¯ Jurrah.¡± ¡°A pleasure, Mr Jurrah.¡± I answer, politely ¡°Would you sit with me?¡± I gesture to the rock I just got up from. He dips his head and sits, leaning his staff against the rock. ¡°Could I ask to see your face while we talk, Ma¡¯am.¡± I chuckle as I oblige him by taking off my helmet ¡°It feels a bit strange to be called ¡®Ma¡¯am¡¯ by a civilian so much my senior, Sir(!)¡± His face goes hard as he answers ¡°I¡¯m afraid there are no civilians on this planet, Lieutenant¡­ Not anymore¡­ The civilians are all dead¡­ only partisans left¡­¡± My brow creases as I nod my understanding. I unclip my canteen from my belt and, before drinking, proffer it to him. He grins and shakes his head ¡°A kind offer but¡­ I¡¯m not thirsty¡­ you¡¯ll need that more than I do!¡± I shrug and take a drink. He¡¯s not wrong, this heat and durasteel is not a pleasant combination! The inbuilt temperature control can only do so much. Having taken a drink, I start ¡°So, Mr Jurrah¡­ Your grandson tells me you¡¯d be able to show us a way through the mountains.¡± He nods ¡°I could.¡± ¡°Will you?¡± ¡°No nonsense!¡± he chuckles in his bassy voice ¡°Could I just ask¡­ Why d¡¯you want to cross these mountains?¡± I shake my head ¡°I can¡¯t share that with a civilian, Sir.¡± Flatly, he answers ¡°Ma¡¯am, I told you, I¡¯m a partisan. Please don¡¯t disrespect me like that again.¡± Hurriedly, I answer ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sir! I meant no disrespect!¡­ Regardless, I¡¯m not authorised to share strategically valuable intel with those not cleared to know it¡­ the same way your grandson wasn¡¯t allowed to show us the path.¡± He nods ¡°Fair dinkum¡­ but, if I was to guess that you were gonna strike the supply depot on the other side, take what you can carry and burn the rest, you wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve broken the rules, right?¡± I stay silent and he grins. Eventually, I say ¡°Whatever it is that we plan to do on the other side¡­ It will be in service of liberating your planet, Sir¡­ Will you help us?¡± He brings a hand to his chin and pulls a considering expression. ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal¡­¡± ¡°What deal?¡± I frown, suspiciously. ¡°You¡¯ll be burning those supplies, right?¡­ How about, you bring my Band along with you. When you¡¯ve overtaken the depot, you let us come in and take as much as we can carry before you burn the rest?¡­ Do that and I¡¯ll show you the path!¡± I sigh ¡°It¡¯s not enough that this will hurry the end of the occupation?¡± He shrugs ¡°My people can¡¯t eat the ¡®end of the occupation¡¯(!) Fat lot of good a free planet does us if we¡¯ve starved to death first!¡± I consider that. That boy was very skinny¡­ ¡°Alright¡­ you can come¡­ On two conditions¡­¡± ¡°Name them.¡± he rumbles. ¡°First condition; we do the fighting! You wait for us to give you the all clear to come in!¡± He shrugs ¡°No complaints here(!)¡± ¡°Second condition; that boy, and any other children you have in your Band, do. not. come!¡± A scowl breaks over his face ¡°You think my grandson¡¯s not blooded!?¡­ I told you! There are no civilians on this planet anymore! Every single member of my band has killed!¡­ He¡¯s not the fragile, little, city boy he was when the War broke out!¡± ¡°Regardless¡­¡± I insist ¡°¡­I am not bringing a minor on a military expedition. Find something else to do with him and any other children you have!¡­ If that¡¯s a dealbreaker for you then I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s no deal.¡± His mouth twists and his eyes narrow as he considers. ¡°Fine¡­ He¡¯s not gonna like this, though!¡± Remembrance, Chapter 23 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Wednesday, 2nd of January, 2685 Terran Calendar--- ---Central Pangaea, New Australia--- I walk at the front of the column, behind only Jurrah himself. We soldiers are slightly outnumbered by his partisans. They¡¯re mostly sapiens with a brother and sister pair of Denisovans and a single Kangaroo uplift who¡¯s definitely suffering from the slow, clambering movement we¡¯re undergoing. I remember Oskar explaining that kangaroos actually use less energy when bounding than not as we watched a mob of them hopping along the arid plains of Sahul, on our first survival excursion. Of course, even if we weren¡¯t moving over terrain that would make bounding a challenge, it¡¯s just too eye catching a movement, too likely to get us all spotted. ¡°Sooo¡­¡± I start, causing the partisan leader to turn his head partway back as he walks ¡°¡­your grandson¡¯s parents are¡­?¡± ¡°Dead¡­¡± he interrupts matter-of-factly ¡°¡­my daughter and son-in-law sent him out to stay with me a few weeks before the invasion¡­ Thought they were being fraidy-cats at the time¡­ I¡¯m glad they had more sense than me or Steve¡¯d¡¯ve died when New Brisbane was bombarded¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ extremely sorry to hear that, Sir.¡± He shrugs ¡°That¡¯s War¡­ I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve lost folk too¡­?¡± I hesitate a moment before answering ¡°I¡­ have¡­¡± ¡°Pretty much a universal part of the Terran experience, these days¡­ You¡¯d have to be either the jammiest bastard to ever live or the loneliest to not have lost any mates or rellies this far into the War!¡± ¡°I guess so¡­¡± I grimace. ¡°Still¡­ I¡¯ve got Steve¡­ I¡¯ve got my Band¡­¡± he gestures vaguely back to the unarmoured people clambering through the red rocky mountain crag behind us ¡°¡­no point in whinging¡­¡± I smile, invisibly, beneath my helmet. We reach the mouth of this mountaintop crevasse and the man stops, pointing downhill. ¡°There it is¡­¡± I look to see the compound. I saw the footage from the reconnaissance drone but¡­ something about seeing it in person brings home just how shoddily it¡¯s designed! Even being a Soldier, I¡¯d consider myself a relative layperson in the art of fortress construction! Despite that, I think I could do a better job than whoever laid out that depot! The main thing it has going for it in terms of defence is the inaccessibility of its location! The walls are flat and vertical (terrible for deflecting artillery impacts) and the corners are just simple right-angles in the wall with no extra fortification! There are autonomous gun turrets on the roof but they¡¯ve got blindspots so obvious a child could work them out! I suppose, a side effect of a million years of barely interrupted peace is that the xenos have no idea how to design for War! I signal my subordinates to form up and begin outlining the plan of attack, one last time. ---later--- I¡¯m sprinting toward the walls, my men and women spread out to minimise the effect of the screaming machinegun turrets pointed at us. The wind is knocked out of me as a heavy projectile impacts my front and transfers a large portion of it¡¯s momentum through my armour into my diaphragm. I¡¯m momentarily unable to breathe but adrenaline keeps me going! This pain is nothing compared to childbirth(!) We reach the walls and gather in the blindspot that I identified as our entry point. ¡°Breach!¡± I try to shout, my voice hoarse from my lungs being partly empty. Nevertheless, Cook and Evans immediately follow my command, igniting their plasmaswords and, in unison, plunging the roaring blades into the wall and carving a door. Richards then sprints at the hatch, outlined in molten rock, and shoulder barges into it, causing the inordinately heavy looking piece to collapse inward, in a cloud of dust. I¡¯m the first in after the ox of a man. The xenos inside have been instantly thrown into chaos by the attack. Even still, I feel my body be buffeted about as some of the more levelheaded of them aim pulseweaponry at me. I charge the nearest one and backhand him with enough momentum to bring his feet off the ground! While he¡¯s still in the air, I bring my rifle butt to his chest and slam him to the floor with sufficient force to crush his ribcage, killing him instantly. All around me, the noise of gunfire, laserfire and kinetics sound, along with the heavy impacts of hand to hand. The din rapidly falls silent as all resistance is overcome. I begin giving orders ¡°Alright, move quickly! Reinforcements are probably already inbound! Deactivate the gun turrets to let the partisans in! Grab whatever looks high calorie! Good rule of thumb, the denser it feels, the more likely it is to be nutritious! Everything else, pile up here, ready to be burned¡­¡± A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. A few minutes pass as we begin sorting the stuff we want to take from the stuff we¡¯re going to burn. I¡¯m about to go and signal to the partisans to move in when I hear a voice I shouldn¡¯t be hearing right now ¡°Lieutenant!¡± I turn to see the unarmoured old man, panting heavily and leaning on his twisted staff. ¡°Mr Jurrah!? I told you to wait outside until we gave you the all clear! How did you know you could even get in here without being shot?!¡± I ask, incredulously. ¡°Not important!¡­ Ships incoming!¡± he pants, breathlessly, pointing to his right. I stride to the doorway carved by my subordinates and look where he¡¯s pointing. What I see is stomach dropping; sleek, predatory looking craft, designed with an artistry uncommon among nonTerrans¡­ flying towards us with unnerving speed. ¡°New plan¡­¡± I shout, causing every soldier to stop where they are ¡°¡­grab the most appealing looking box in arm¡¯s reach and bolt back for cover!¡± It takes around thirty seconds for everyone to have grabbed a package and made it back through the breach. ¡°Pvt Richards¡­¡± I say, pulling aside the hulking man ¡°¡­keep yourself between those ships and Mr Jurrah as you run back!¡± He nods his helmet in response and takes the partisan by the shoulder. The last in the depot, I take out my sword and ignite it. I make a lap of the small fortress, touching the screaming blade to each pile of goods in turn. The room is already engulfed in flames by the time I make it back to the breach. Richards and Jurrah are taking up the rear, 200m or so ahead of me. I sprint to catch them up. ---Hsisak¡¯s perspective--- Annoyingly, we aren¡¯t going to make it there before the Terrans escape. At this range, our shipmounted guns would be entirely ineffectual against their armour. There¡¯s already a huge plume of smoke rising from the depot they struck, we¡¯re simply too late! Then, I notice something¡­ The long range telemetry is showing one figure who doesn¡¯t look like the others¡­ I turn my head back to point my sense pits at the screen. Yeeeees¡­ The body is mostly obscured by the large one at the back¡­ but unmistakably, those are hot legs that belong to a warmblooded creature not clad in metal. The unarmoured one¡¯s face becomes visible around the large one¡¯s chest for a length of time too short for me to perceive but long enough for the ship to identify him as a local insurgency cell leader¡­ My forked tongue flicks out of my mouth, excitedly trying to taste for the prey that my instincts have no way of knowing is far too far for me to detect on the air. I direct the targeting reticle to the obscured insurgent. Perhaps this mission won¡¯t be a total bust! ---Steve¡¯s perspective--- I¡¯m in a little mountaintop hollow that¡¯ll obviously¡¯ve been where everyone slept last night. That bloody soldier woman had some fucking nerve, telling Grandad I couldn¡¯t come! Well how¡¯s this lady!? Here I am! Ready to help carry back the loot! Complain if you want! I don¡¯t give a damn what wankers with no respect say about me! The band know I¡¯m not some little kid! That¡¯s all that matters! I¡¯ve lived almost half my life in the bush! Spent that entire time learning how to survive from Grandad! That poncy soldier lady with the funny accent just shows up and acts like she can give me orders!? Right then, my stewing is cut off by the sound of footsteps. I stand up, looking excitedly down the narrow gulley in the rock where the first soldiers and bandmates start appearing. My face falls as I realise something¡¯s not right¡­ Only the soldiers are carrying stuff¡­ and every visible face looks really sad¡­ There¡¯s no way that none of them¡¯ve noticed me (can¡¯t speak for the soldiers but partisans are pretty hot shit about noticing things like that) but no one¡¯s meeting my eyes¡­ Then, I smile as I see a familiar stick of twisted, red wood appear at the back of the troop. Grandad¡¯ll be able to¡­ Wait¡­ that¡¯s not Grandad¡­ Why would he have given his stick to the soldier lady? I lean side to side, seeing if I can spot him behind her¡­ He¡¯s not there¡­ The woman spots me and, instead of angrily shouting at me for following, she just silently walks towards me. She holds out the rod towards me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, lad¡­¡± she says in her weird accent. The bottom falls out of my stomach and my mind begins working so fast that I can¡¯t keep up with it. I manage to ask ¡°What¡­ do¡­ you¡­ mean¡­ you¡¯re sorry!?¡± Seriously, she says ¡°¡­Your grandad¡­ he didn¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t what?! Where IS he!?!?!?¡± I snarl, already knowing, trying and failing to keep my breathing under control and the tears from stinging my eyes. ¡°He didn¡¯t make it, lad¡­¡± she says, turning her face down in shame. ¡°He¡¯s dead?!¡± I ask, desperately trying to keep the shuddering sobs out of my voice. She nods. I shake my head, willing it not to be true, looking around for him like he might spring out and reveal it was all a joke! ¡°Nah¡­ nah, nah, nah, nah¡­ NO¡­ You don¡¯t know him! He¡¯s still alive! We¡¯ve gotta go back for him! We¡¯ve gotta¡­!¡± I begin walking forward but I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn to look up into Drid¡¯s grey eyes. The Denisovan woman pulls me into a hug and sobs ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Steve¡­ but there was no surviving what happened to him¡­ Yarran¡¯s gone¡­ You¡¯ll only get yourself killed going back for him¡­¡± The world goes out of focus as I absorb what she said. My vision is blurry, sounds feel distant, my chest feels like it¡¯s being crushed under the weight of a hundred tonnes of sand¡­ Then I snap back to myself. I push off Drid¡¯s arms and wheel on the soldier. Tears spill down my cheeks as I stamp towards her, my face twisted into a furious mask. ¡°This is YOUR fault!!!¡± I yell, pushing her and barely even noticing the childish way my voice cracks that would normally make me incredibly selfconscious. The armour clad woman is so heavy that she barely even reacts to my full body shove ¡°Steve¡­!¡± objects Drid, weakly. Ignoring her, I keep shouting at the helmeted woman ¡°Ain¡¯t you here to protect us?!?!?! Why did you even fuckin¡¯ COME here, if not!?¡­ Some soldier you are, makin¡¯ an old man die to protect you!!!¡± She doesn¡¯t react to my shouting and shoving except by holding her gun and my grandad¡¯s staff out of the way, opening up her armoured body to my rubbish attacks! Here, a giant, armoured man cuts in in a deep, monotone ¡°It wasn¡¯t her fault, kid¡­ it was mine¡­¡± ¡°Richards¡­ shut up¡­¡± says the woman, sounding like she¡¯s speaking through gritted teeth. The man, Richards, keeps going ¡°She ordered me to act as his shield¡­ placing myself between him and the enemy¡­ I failed¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± ¡°Oh¡­ well, if you¡¯re ¡®sorry¡¯, that makes it all OK, don¡¯t it(!) THAT brings my grandad back(!)¡± I half laugh, half sob ¡°You¡¯ve got yours and we get bugger all ¡¯cept one of ours dead!!!¡± I say, pointing around to the boxes only the soldiers carry. The woman steps forward, shaking her head, her hand raised ¡°We didn¡¯t get as much as we¡¯d¡¯ve liked¡­ but we¡¯ve already agreed to split what we got with your band¡­¡± ¡°Great(!)¡± I scowl ¡°I¡¯m sure whatever biscuits and bandages you¡¯ve given us will make my grandad¡¯s death sooooooo worth it(!)¡± She sighs ¡°Listen¡­ kid, I¡­¡± ¡°I DON¡¯T WANNA HEAR IT!!!¡± I scream so hard that it shreds my vocal chords ¡°Just¡­ *sob*¡­ just GO!¡± I gesture to the path back to the valley I met her in. She looks at me for a few seconds before gloomily saying ¡°Alright lad¡­¡± She holds out my grandad¡¯s staff to me again¡­ this time, I take it from her¡­ the last piece of my favourite person in the universe that I¡¯ll ever have¡­ ¡°Alright troops; Those of you carrying the partisans¡¯ portion, leave your boxes here. We¡¯re moving out.¡± Some of the orange armoured soldiers begin dumping the stuff they¡¯ve earmarked for us and then they all form up at the path entrance. As soon as they¡¯re gone, I collapse onto a rock, lean my forehead against the red wood and weep, openly and uncontrollably. Drid sits next to me on my left, her brother on my right, both wrapping me in their arms trying to comfort me. Remembrance, Chapter 24 of 28 ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- ---Friday, 29th of May, 2685 Terran Calendar--- ---Eastern Pangaea, New Australia--- f? You go down just like Holy Mary Mary on a, Mary on a cross Your beauty never ever scared me Mary on a, Mary on a croooss If you choose to run away with me, I will tickle you internally And I see nooothing wrooong with thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat Mary on a¡­ Mary on a cross Nooothing wrooooong with thaaaat Mary on a¡­ Mary on a cross Nothing wrooooong with thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat Mary on a, Mary on a cross?f The rest of us stop singing to let Ortega finish the song on his own. mp? Mary on a¡­ Mary on a crooooooss¡­?mp When the last notes of his guitar fade, all present burst into cheers and claps. It¡¯s been more than half a year since we¡¯ve been able to relax like this¡­ Not so relaxing is the reason we¡¯re able to camp on open ground, with most present being out of their armour, and sing songs with instruments, right now¡­ My head tilts back on the rock that my wife and I rest against. The night sky would be breathtaking in its beauty¡­ if it weren¡¯t so distressing in it¡¯s implications¡­ I watch a ship, large and close enough to be recognisably Terran, as it¡¯s gun batteries light up, working their way from one end of its broadside to the other, each one firing around a ? of a second after the previous, in a fierce barrage! The alien ship it¡¯s engaged with isn¡¯t obliterated, but looks crippled badly enough that I wouldn¡¯t guess that it will survive the battle. The entire sky is adorned with the flashing of cannonade and the rainbow shimmer of our enemies¡¯ shields, as they try and fail to withstand the bombardment we¡¯re subjecting them to. Hopefully, we will manage to take back orbital supremacy¡­ The battle is like a fireworks display¡­ except completely silent! Perhaps it¡¯s more like an aurora?... No, they make noise too, don¡¯t they? The naval battle going on overhead means that we have nothing to fear from orbital bombardment¡­ and scouts report the xeno army in the area left, days ago, headed in the direction of the ruined capital. One of the main strategies our enemy tends to rely on is strength in numbers, which makes it relatively easy to remain aware of whether there are any in a given area and when they¡¯re moving, since their units typically total in the tens of thousands¡­ ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s next? Any requests?¡± smiles Ortega, speaking loud enough to be heard across the brushfire we¡¯re gathered around. ¡°Weeeeell¡­¡± smirks Esme, wryly ¡°If Campbell and Fraser wanted to join in with their pipes¡­?¡± ¡°No¡­¡± vetoes Burrows, flatly ¡°¡­I told you the last time you suggested it, and the time before that! Scots Wha Hae is a song that I would happily allow myself to be martyred to, but singing it at any other time is tempting fate!¡­ Denied!!!¡± Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°N¡¯ah¡­ you¡¯re no fun, Captain¡­ I think you just don¡¯t like bagpipes(!)¡± ¡°I promise you, if we¡¯re ever facing down what looks like a hopeless situation and we have time for one last tune, Scots Wha Hae can be that song!¡± smirks the Captain. ¡°Like that¡¯s ever gonna happen!¡­ ¡®Excuse me, Mr Evil Xeno¡­ would you mind awfully holding off on murdering us all while we just had a little singsong?¡¯(!)¡± mocks Esme in her impression of Burrows¡¯ very posh speech register. ¡°If it does, the song selection is yours(!)¡­¡± smiles Burrows ¡°¡­for now though, what about a little Poor Man¡¯s Poison? Hell¡¯s Comin¡¯ with Me?¡± A chorus of objection answers with the general sentiment expressed being that that song is too dark for the current mood. Over the next few moments, the discussion breaks down into a dull murmur, as everyone tries to make their own suggestions. Eventually, Ortega smiles and raises his hand and his voice to say ¡°Guys! Guys!¡­ I¡¯ve got one¡­!¡± silencing the gemot. He brings his right hand to his strings and begins to rapidly strum out chords. His hand passes over the wires three times before I (along with apparently everyone else) recognise the tune he¡¯s playing and smiles break over all of our faces. Definitely the right selection! He opens his mouth to start singing. f? Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Wheeere¡¯s the streetwise Heeercules, to fight the rising odds? Isn¡¯t there a white kniiight, upooon a fiery steed? Late at night, I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need!?f His fist is raised into the air for a fraction of a second, signalling the rest of us to join in, hard! fff? I need a HERO! *CLAP* I¡¯m holding out for a hero to the end of the night He¡¯s gotta be strong And he¡¯s gotta be fast And he¡¯s gotta be fresh from the FIGHT! *CLAP*?fff ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Saturday, 30th of May, 2685 Terran Calendar--- I lie beside Oskar, my head on top of his shoulder, in our tiny tent. My holo beeps, letting me know its our watch. I slap my husband¡¯s washboard stomach and say ¡°Come on you big lug¡­(!) Time to get up!¡± He groans as he rises from our sleeping mat. We make our way to the supply tent, through the chilly desert night air, to check out our rifles, open faced helmets and air horns. Mercifully, we aren¡¯t required to take watch in our armour, right now, given how unlikely we are to be attacked with no enemy army in the area. I¡¯m so used to the extra inertia my body has, when buried in that bulky metal, that getting to stand watch with only a gun and fatigues and sentry helmet on my body makes me feel positively feather light! We make our way to the edge of camp and quickly manage to find Wainwright and Kapoor, where they''re making their patrol along the inside of the earthen embankment that we spent a few hours, yesterday, building up with shovels and jamming stakes into the outside of. We relieve the SinoEnglishwoman and the IndoEnglishman and they gratefully start walking back to their respective tents. We resume their patrol in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, my husband comments ¡°Great party last night.¡± ¡°Mmmh¡­¡± I agree, distractedly. ¡°It¡¯s good that LtCol Wallace allows space on the mules for musical instruments.¡± he adds. ¡°Mmm-hmmm¡­¡± I feel a strong hand on my shoulder as my husband turns me to look at him. ¡°What¡¯s wrong¡­?¡± ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- I turn the beautiful girl toward me and try not to get too captivated by the way the starfield and naval battle, overhead, are reflected in her eyes, as she looks up at me. ¡°What¡¯s wrong¡­?¡± I ask, concerned. ¡°Oh¡­ nothing¡­ I¡¯m fine¡­¡± ¡°Esme¡­ I¡¯m autistic¡­ not stupid!¡­ Even I can tell that¡¯s not true¡­ Are you thinking about that boy again?¡± She sighs ¡°¡­Yeah¡­ but not just him¡­ It seems like every survivor we¡¯ve met since we landed just has this scornful ¡®Fuck took you so long!?¡¯ attitude to us!!!¡± ¡°They¡¯re people who¡¯ve been living under a years long occupation by forces bent on their extermination¡­ isn¡¯t it a little understandable that they might be somewhat short on manners?¡± She frowns and sways her head as she answers ¡°Yeeeeah¡­ I know that!¡­ I wasn¡¯t expecting them to throw us a parade(!)¡­ I¡¯m not saying I¡¯d like them to ask us to keep our collective trousers unzipped for ease of blowjob access(!)¡­ I¡¯m just saying it would be nice if even one of them seemed happy to see us¡­ rather than berating us for the forage and water we¡¯re gonna be using up and stuff¡­ Just makes me wonder what we¡¯re even bloody doing here!¡± ¡°We¡¯re liberating the planet¡­ we¡¯re fighting the War¡­¡± I shrug. ¡°They seemed to be surviving just fine without us¡­ What¡¯s the point in liberating the planet when, if we win the War, we can just demand the withdrawal of their forces and, if we lose¡­ well¡­¡± She trails off there. ¡°Esme, I get how you feel¡­ but I¡¯m sure the strategic value of committing us to this planet is something that will have been worked out long before we were ever sent here¡­ It¡¯s¡­¡± Here, my speech is interrupted, as my wife¡¯s body goes tense and her gun comes up, pointing over the rampart, followed, 0.5 seconds later, by mine. I look into the bushes she¡¯s pointing her gun at. I see nothing. Her right hand whips to her belt and blasts the (shockingly loud) airhorn alarm. She screams ¡°CONTACT SOUTH!!!¡± Remembrance, Chapter 25 of 28 ---Sizhsas¡¯s perspective--- ---[Saturday, 30th of May, 2685 Terran Calendar]--- ---Eastern Pangaea, New Australia--- My eyes are not able to make out much detail of the enemy camp that we''ve located at all, in this darkness! Turning my head slightly back, however, allows me to, with relative clarity, resolve the nearest two deathworld sentries¡¯ heat signatures with my sense pits. The fallen forest of warmbloods behind them are less clear, their heat being distorted by the sides of their tents¡­ Though, their burned out firepits shine like beacons! My tongue flicks from my mouth with my excitement as I issue the slightest, whispered *hiss*. Instantly, the smaller sentry wheels on my exact location and brings her gun up to point it my way. Her large comrade follows her lead nearly instantly! She couldn¡¯t possibly have heard me, could she!? A sound that quiet! At this distance! With those ears! After a few seconds of being frozen in place as I watch the pair stare down my hiding place, the small one suddenly has her hand in the air, holding an unfamiliar device. A deafening (even at this distance), high pitch blast issues from the noisemaker as the woman screams ¡°KONNTAKT SOWTH!!!¡± and every heat signature, in the tents behind her, begins moving in a scramble. ---Oskar¡¯s perspective--- Esme and I dive to the earthwork that I¡¯m suddenly very glad we took the time to build, yesterday! Without the armour we would usually be wearing, the only other defences we have are our open faced sentry helmets. I suddenly feel very nude! Our guns light up the darkness as we fire at fast moving shapes, without seeming to hit any. Something¡¯s wrong with the sound of the fire that¡¯s returning. It takes me a few seconds to work out that it¡¯s because it¡¯s explosive! Most gardenworlders simply don¡¯t have the fortitude to fire chemically propelled weapons but¡­ I saw enough of them to know that what¡¯s out there isn¡¯t Human! A flare is fired South from within the camp, confirming my suspicions. The red, scaled, fanged, reptilian faces staring back at us, lit by the ghostly flarelight, hissing snarls with their (far too wide) stiff mouths, are Sahas! One of a half dozen that have been identified from the testimony of POWs as ¡®roughworlder¡¯ species! Species that occupy a space in between gardenworlder and deathworlder in terms of their physical capabilities, meaning that some of them are able to wear practical durasteel armour, some of them are able to fire firearms as opposed to the recoilless kinetic pulse and laser weaponry most GU forces favour and some of them are even, reportedly, able to best some Humans in hand-to-hand! The guns don¡¯t sound particularly powerful but, then again, they don¡¯t particularly need to be, with us out of our armour! ¡°Fall back!¡± Esme shouts, as we simultaneously realise we¡¯re about to be overrun at our current position. We sprint the 10m or so that separates us from the second line of fortification, the mules, our baggage trolleys, piled high with crates and low value supplies, arranged defensively around the camp. I hear the buzz of subsonic rounds as they pass close by me but, mercifully, we both make it to the nearest mule with neither of us seeming to have been hit. We both spend a ? second checking ourselves, once we¡¯re behind cover, just in case shock kept us from feeling being hit. We¡¯re both clean. At this point, reinforcements arrive from within the camp with the identity of the soldiers that join us, behind the 1.2m tall, metal sides of the mule we¡¯re using as cover, not being immediately apparent in the darkness, though their Humanness is! Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. We watch as hundreds of the roughworlders charge our rampart with their legless, serpentine bodies! I don¡¯t see any that actually impale themselves on the stakes but the care they need to take to avoid doing so slows them down enough to make them much easier targets. As they overtop the earthwork, they keep their heads, arms and chests barely off the ground, their powerful tails propelling them forward in a chillingly fast glide, across the sandy earth. The fact that these are creatures meant for the desert in a way that Humans just aren¡¯t would be obvious from the way they move, even if I didn¡¯t already know it! Shots issue forth from my gun. I don¡¯t know how many I kill. There doesn¡¯t seem to be any end to the tide of snakes! Suddenly, strength in numbers doesn¡¯t seem so laughable in its tactical simplicity! My gun runs dry. I draw my plasmasvere and ignite it, ready to meet the first row to reach the mules as they ignite their strange, impractical polearms with 80cm blades, glowing white hot, on each end. My svere meets the blade of one of their weapons but, rather than immediately disarming him and throwing him to the ground, the momentum of my swing is only enough to slightly stumble him (as much as someone with no legs can stumble!) He quickly regains his composure and swings at me, withdrawing the blade mine was blocking to swing the one on the other side at me with startling speed! I move my blade to block the strike and feel the power behind it! This guy is no Human, but his species have definitely earned the distinction of a class of their own, among the GU forces! His body twists and coils unpredictably as we fight, our blades screaming objection at us each time they collide! There is a battle all around us but I can¡¯t allow my attention to slip from this man! Any momentary loss of focus might create an opening for him to exploit! Then, the Sahas does something strange¡­ he pulls back¡­ It¡¯s subtle but¡­ He smirks¡­ Someone punches me in the back, hard, and an explosion of steam bursts from my chest. I look down and see 10cm of glowing blade protruding from my solar plexus. ¡®Oh¡­¡¯ I think as I dully register falling to my knees ¡®¡­that¡¯s not suppose to¡­¡¯ My wife¡¯s scream is the last sound I hear. Darkness falls. ---Nathan¡¯s perspective--- The dawn light breaks over the camp as I nurse a left orbital, missing its eye. The pain of being a freshly minted cyclops doesn¡¯t compare to the other kind of pain I¡¯m feeling right now, though. I look at the face of the woman, who¡¯s shoes I now have to fill, since she took a bullet through the neck, yesterday. Something that never ceases to be present in your mind, when looking at a dead person, is how unlike the actors and dummies used in films, plays and on television they are¡­ There¡¯s, seemingly, some quality to a real Human body bereft of its anima, its soul, that is just unreproducible with makeup or props¡­ I reach to LtCol Wallace¡¯s face and close her eyes. ¡°Rest well, Commander¡­¡± I say, getting up. I walk along the line of bodies, my expression grim. One of our unit¡¯s embedded Humanitarians approaches me. ¡°I found you a patch, Sir.¡± she says, holding out the loop of elasticated cloth with an orbital sized piece attached. ¡°Thank you, Beaumont.¡± I answer the nurse as I take the article from her hand and gingerly don it. The wailing sobs of a woman, drenched in red (though not Human) blood, serve as a background to the entire exchange. My eyepatch in place, I approach the weeping woman. At her knees is the body of a large, dark haired, muscular man with a charred hole burned cleanly through his chest¡­ One of 127 other such casualties our battalion suffered in last night¡¯s attack. Around five metres away is the single most mangled body of any I¡¯ve ever seen, the weeping woman having bayoneted the reptilian creature what looks like more than a hundred times! I look at the woman, sobbing incoherently over the corpse of the husband I married her to, just over a year ago. I want nothing more than to comfort her. To give her a hug and tell her everything will be OK. Unfortunately, I don¡¯t have that luxury. ¡°Esme¡­ you need to let us put your husband on the transport now, OK?¡± I say, gently but with little kindness, gesturing at the mule we¡¯re using as an impromptu corpse carrier ¡°We¡¯ll give him a funeral once we¡¯ve taken New Canberra and a cemetery gets designated¡­¡± I gesture to Mears and Walters, waiting with a bodybag to go ahead. ¡°DINNAE TOUCH HIM!¡± snarls the woman, with a ferocity that startles the pair back ¡°DON¡¯T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!!!¡± I sigh and wave them away to deal with something else while I deal with her. I crouch down, facing the woman¡¯s tear filled eyes, across her husband¡¯s body, making no move to touch him. ¡°Lieutenant¡­¡± I say in a low but stern voice ¡°¡­you need to pull. yourself. the fuck. together!¡± My profanity startles the woman out of her whimpering and she looks up at me with a horrified expression. ¡°Do you want me to put you on respite camp duty, Lieutenant?! Do you want me to send you back to Earth at the earliest opportunity? Because you¡¯re not acting like a soldier right now!¡± ¡°He wis ma husband, Captain!¡± says the aghast woman (currently seeming unable to moderate her heavy natural dialect). ¡°And this moment is the risk you took when you fell in love with a comrade in arms.¡± I point out, flatly and with no sympathy ¡°Now, what are you going to do about it?¡­ Are you going to let me send you home with Jenkins and the others?¡­ Or are. you going. to fight?!¡± There¡¯s something uncanny about the expression that spreads over the woman¡¯s face. Animalistic and spiteful. I¡¯ve never seen a Human look like that¡­ or any other sapient being for that matter! ¡°Ah¡¯m gonnae fight!¡± she answers, her voice chillingly level. ¡°If you want to fight, you have to let us put Oskar on the mule.¡± I say, not allowing myself to sound perturbed. A few seconds of calculation follow. Then ¡°Gimme the bag, Ah¡¯ll dae it.¡± ¡°Esme¡­ he¡¯s got to weigh 100kg! You¡¯ll inju¡­¡± ¡°Ah says, Ah¡¯ll dae it!!!¡± We stare eachother down for 3 seconds¡­ then I shrug. I stand and beckon Mears, holding the bodybag. He hurries over to me. I hold out my hand and, after a moment¡¯s hesitation, he hands it to me. I turn back to the redhaired woman and hand her the bag. She takes it and I walk away, not staying to see her struggle as she bags and moves the body she¡¯ll let no one else touch. ¡°What do you want us to do with the enemy dead, Sir?¡± asks Mears, following me, gesturing vaguely at the plethora of red, scaley aliens around us and seeming to be glad to be out of Esme¡¯s vicinity. ¡°We can spare neither the time nor the calories on burying them and we have no idea what their culture considers a respectful burial¡­ Leave them.¡± Remembrance, Chapter 26 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 20th of July, 2685 Terran Calendar--- ---Eastern Pangaea, New Australia--- ¡®Die.¡¯ ¡®Die.¡¯ ¡®Die.¡¯ ¡®Die.¡¯ ¡®Fuck you!¡¯ ¡®Die!¡¯ I think as I kill xeno after xeno in the ruins of what was once a vibrant planetary capital. My body is producing the movements necessary to sever limbs and punch in faces with very little direction from my, otherwise occupied, conscious mind. I wrench the head off of a 3m tall mantis looking fucker and throw it at a lizardy looking one hard enough to stove in his chest. Laserfire roasts a patch on my back, hot enough to burn my skin with the heat my armour conducts. I round on the four foot tall xeno who looks like an aye-aye. As I beat him to death, my mind just keeps showing me my husband being stabbed in the back by that snake monster. ¡°Esme! Silence that nest!¡± directs Burrows. ¡°With pleasure.¡± I answer, joylessly. Since Oskar¡¯s death, he¡¯s being using me as an attack dog. I know it¡­ I don¡¯t particularly care. It¡¯s almost certainly not the healthiest way of dealing with grief, channelling yourself into vengeful killing¡­ but it¡¯s the only therapy I¡¯ve got available, right now(!) My sword flashes, destroying the gun and, in short order, dispatching its crew when they pull small arms on me. ¡°Angels inbound! 600 seconds! Hold position!¡± shouts Burrows, over the helmet comms. Please don¡¯t order me to wait! It hurts so much less when I¡¯m fighting! For the next ten minutes, we just huddle behind cover, periodically popping up to return fire at the heavy fortification blocking our way. Then, a dozen Humans streak through the sky from behind us. The Airbornes land, handily avoiding the pathetic attempts to shoot them out of the sky. They quickly begin dismantling the resistance. They signal us that the fortification is dealt with and immediately take off to some other part of the battlefield requesting their help. ¡°Obstruction neutralised! Move up!¡± ---Nathan¡¯s perspective--- ---Saturday, 8th of August, 2685 Terran Calendar--- Eleven months to the day since we landed on this planet, I lean forward to the microphone, on the desk, and begin speaking: ¡°To all civilians, partisan forces and liberation forces receiving this message¡­ My name is Captain Nathan ¡®Wellington¡¯ Burrows and I am the Acting Commander of the 16,616th Battalion, from Earth¡­ I speak to you now from the chamber of The New Australian House of Representatives¡­ A place I¡¯m sure all, native to this planet and old enough to remember a time before the War, know well¡­ It is my great honour and privilege to inform you that, as of moments ago, UTC forces accepted the surrender of the last pocket of GU occupation resistance, in New Canberra¡­ This city is no longer a conflict zone.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. I pause here to collect myself before continuing: ¡°A pipeline has been established for the evacuation of civilians to planets that remain safer from the conflict. Any and all, but especially those who require medical aid, are urged to make their way to New Canberra, in the Flynn Valley, to be evacuated, if they are able¡­ Though this city may be once again in Terran hands, this planet is not¡­ To my fellow liberators, I thank you¡­ but must remind you there is work we have yet to do¡­ To all partisans who choose to remain and fight the good fight, I wish you Godspeed¡­¡± Here, my voice turns hard: ¡°To all occupiers receiving this message, your days here are numbered¡­ Terran Military analysis indicates your government¡¯s capitulation will come in less than 6 months¡­ I urge you to cease this senseless violence against us!¡­ Surrender yourselves to our custody and receive all the rights and dignities due to you as prisoners of War!¡­ Continue to fight and you will leave us no choice but to deal with you as mankind has always dealt with those who would threaten us¡­ harshly!¡± Softening again, I channel my inner Charlie Chaplain: ¡°We Terrans¡­ we do not wish to be emperors¡­ that is not our business¡­ We do not wish to conquer or rule anyone! We would like to help everyone, if possible, deathworlder, gardenworlder, Terran and not¡­ We all want to help one another¡­ sapient beings are like that¡­ We want to live by eachother¡¯s happiness, not by eachother¡¯s misery¡­ We don¡¯t want to hate and despise one another¡­ This universe has room for everyone and creation is rich¡­ and can provide for everyone¡­ The way of life can be free and beautiful¡­ but you have lost the way¡­ Fear has poisoned your souls, has barricaded the galaxy with hate¡­ has goosestepped us into misery and bloodshed¡­ Your knowledge has made you cynical, your cleverness hard and unkind¡­ Fearing too much and feeling too little¡­ More than knowledge, you need compassion. More than cleverness, you need kindness and gentleness¡­ Without these qualities life is violent¡­ and all is lost¡­ Spacecraft and Faster than light communication have brought you closer together¡­ The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in you¡­ cries out for universal brotherhood¡­ for the unity of us all¡­ Soldiers, don¡¯t give yourselves to brutes like Vlixrothju¡­ men who despise you, enslave you¡­ who regiment your lives¡­ who tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel¡­ who treat you like cattle, use you as cannonfodder! Don¡¯t give yourselves to these unnatural men! You have the love inherent to sapience in your hearts! You don¡¯t hate! Only the unloved hate! The unloved and the monstrous!¡­ You, the people, have the power! The power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure!¡­ Then, in the name of benevolence, let us use that power! Let us all unite!¡­ Let us fight for a new world¡­ a decent world¡­ that will give all people who wish a chance to work, that will give youth a future and old age a security! Now, let us fight to fulfil that promise! Let us fight to free the galaxy, to do away with political division, to do away with fear, with hate and intolerance! Let us fight for a world of reason! A galaxy where science and progress will lead to all people¡¯s happiness! Soldiers, in the name of compassion, let us all UNITE!!!¡± ---Wednesday, 16th of September, 2685 Terran Calendar--- We do not open the bag. It has been hermetically, vacuum sealed since his death but I don¡¯t think anyone wants to see what nearly four months of anaerobic decomposition do to a body¡­ Instead, we lay it in the box, as it is. Obviously, none of us are dressed in funerary white, instead, each only wearing a white ribbon, tied around our respective nondominant arms, over our freshly laundered combat fatigues. As much as I would like to lay this warrior to rest in his armour, durasteel is simply too valuable¡­ it¡¯s already been shipped off as salvage and will likely be reissued to another soldier who matches his proportions or reforged and adjusted to the proportions of a new soldier (though, it would probably be waiting for a while in that latter scenario, and I truly hope the War is over before then!) Additionally, high value grave goods would likely make him a target for grave robbers, later down the line. Still, I don¡¯t have nothing to lay him to rest with. Before the lid is nailed closed, I lay a beautiful, Norse sword (its fusion core and containment field generators having been removed, giving it not much more value than the same weight of metal) across his chest, pointing down toward his feet. The casket is closed and carried from the mule to the hole meant for it. At Esme¡¯s insistence, there is another hole beside it, which already has a headstone for her, printed from the grave soil, standing at its head¡­ A note has been put on her file that this is to be her final resting place, should she die in combat. She watches, her expression sombre, as we lower the father of her child into the earth. Remembrance, Chapter 27 of 28 ---Steve¡¯s perspective--- ---Thursday, 15th of October, 2685 Terran Calendar--- ---New Canberra, Eastern Pangaea, New Australia--- I walk down the dusty road, bits of preWar pavement visible through the sand, here and there. Ruined buildings are everywhere around. Grandad always told me that the cities looked ¡®post apocalyptic¡¯ these days. When I asked him what that meant, he said that ¡®post apocalypse¡¯ was a kind of film where the world has ended and people are trying to survive. Said I was probably too young for Mum and Dad to have shown me any before we lost power and satellite connection. Even though this city looks like a ¡®post apocalypse¡¯, it¡¯s still buzzing with life. Survivors of all stripes walk this way and that. Soldiers stand and walk about in matte armour, coloured in dull reds and oranges, with the fascinating swirly black pattern of the metal underneath being visible wherever bullets have taken off the top layer. I walk past four folk, all dressed in the same loose outfit, in bright white and strong red colours, and wearing white helmets that don¡¯t protect their faces as they stand, smiling and nattering with eachother. Never understood why the medics wear visible colours, when everyone else tries to wear colours that blend in¡­ Sure, there may have been an understanding that people don¡¯t target medics but¡­ what about when you¡¯re fighting people who don¡¯t care about that? Then, something comes into my view that¡¯s very interesting¡­ Gardenworlders¡­ hundreds of them¡­ stood around, on some open ground, no weapons in their hands, no armour on their bodies¡­ very little of any of their tech in sight! Around them¡¯re many soldiers holding weapons, keeping them corralled. This doesn¡¯t look like a mass execution, though!¡­ Everyone looks way more relaxed than any of those that I¡¯ve seen. Then, I spot a familiar figure. I don¡¯t recognise the woman by her face, covered now, as it was last time. Instead, the first thing I notice about her is the badge on her shoulder¡­ A circle, chopped in four by black lines, with two of the fourths green and two blue. After that, I notice her build, her posture¡­ then her nametag. ¡°Hey¡­ Lady¡­¡± I shout, raising my hand as I approach her. She turns. ¡°Oh¡­ it¡¯s you¡­ Sorry kid, I can¡¯t talk right now¡­ If you need to tell me something you¡¯ll have to wait a few minutes¡­¡± she says, in her weird accent, gesturing to the crowd and then to the steps of a nearby destroyed house with a right arm¡­ that has a white armband on it. I shrug and walk over to them, taking a seat, on the seventh step up from street level, looking out over the throng of surrenders. There¡¯s a big, empty space to my left, as I face them, where the soldiers aren¡¯t letting them stand. The reason becomes obvious as a big ship (obviously Human! Even if the last time I saw one that size was years ago, there¡¯s no mistaking Human work!) falls from the sky, slowing down to stop, gently, on the empty patch. An announcement plays loudly in a language I don¡¯t know and the soldiers begin pointing the gardenworlders onto the waiting ship. The crowd are, quickly, all aboard, the door closes and the ship leaps back into the sky. The soldiers start walking away, all in the same direction, except the woman, who comes to me, walking up the steps to take a seat on my right, her mourning armband about 25cm from my shoulder. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°So¡­ you got something you want to report¡­ Steve, right?¡± she asks, her helmet facing forward and her voice sounding tired. Instead of answering her question, I point upward ¡°Where¡¯re they all going?¡± ¡°A prisoner of War camp, offworld¡­¡± she answers, straightforwardly. ¡°Earth?¡± I ask, interested. ¡°Not Earth, no¡­ We control better planets. Closer than that¡­¡± ¡°That ship gonna take ¡¯em all the way there¡­?¡± I ask. It didn¡¯t look roomy! She shakes her helmet ¡°No¡­ just to orbit¡­ then they¡¯re going to get on a bigger one.¡± ¡°That seems dumb¡­! Why not land the bigger one and have them get straight on¡­?¡± She gives a laugh with no joy in it ¡°Maybe you should take it up with the Logistics Bureau¡­ teach them a thing or two about efficiency(!)¡± I grin at the jab. ¡°Look¡­ kid¡­ I¡¯d love to stick around and chat but¡­ I have things I need to do¡­ Did you have something you need to tell me?¡­ Is there someone abusing their power in your housing area or¡­?¡± I shake my head ¡°I¡­ just wanted to say¡­ sorry¡­ for the things I said to you¡­ ¡¯bout my grandad¡­ It wasn¡¯t right¡­¡± She turns to me with curious bodylanguage. ¡°Your grandad died because of me¡­ I think you were justified in the way you reacted!¡± ¡°No¡­¡± I refuse ¡°¡­he didn¡¯t¡­ Drid and the others told me what happened¡­ He walked into that with his eyes wide open!¡­ I said what I said because I was hurt, angry and scared¡­ you deserved better¡­¡± ¡°I¡­ know a little about what that¡¯s like¡­¡± she answers, thoughtfully. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you ain¡¯t wearin¡¯ that for my grandad¡­ are you?¡± I ask, pointing at her armband. A helmet shake. ¡°My husband¡­ Killed in a night time attack¡­ Buried him about a month ago¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She puffs ¡°Don¡¯t be¡­ you had nothing to do with it, did you(?)¡± ¡°I¡¯m still sorry¡­ I know how it feels¡­ losing someone like that.¡± She thinks for a moment before saying ¡°Thanks, Steve¡­¡± That word reminds me of the other thing I wanted to say ¡°I never thanked you, did I?¡± ¡°Thanked me for what?¡± she asks, confused. ¡°Take your pick¡­ Comin¡¯ here to free us, givin¡¯ us half of the supplies you got from that raid even though you didn¡¯t have to and got less than you wanted becausa it¡­ All this!¡± I point all around at the first safe city that there¡¯s been on this planet in more than a third of my lifetime ¡°¡­Never thanked you for any of it, did I?¡± ¡°Just doing my job¡­¡± she says, getting up. ¡°Still¡­ thanks¡­¡± I smile. ---Nathan¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 2nd of November, 2685 Terran Calendar--- As a lowly Captain, I would not be in this room if not for Wilhelmina¡¯s death earlier this year. Sure, I was the one allowed to give the broadcast address upon our taking this city but¡­ that was because I was the only one with any skill in acting, nearby¡­ I was chosen for my ability to give a moving speech rather than for my command credentials(!) The face of the Brigadier General, looking out at the gathered battalion Commanders and Acting Commanders, is grim. ¡°Ladies, gentlemen and others¡­¡± he starts ¡°¡­I¡¯m afraid I have bad news for you all.¡± A 2D graphic representation of this planet¡¯s only significant landmass appears on the wall behind him. The Flynn Valley Safe Zone is represented in green, to the Eastern edge. The rest is covered in orange with enemy armies being represented in red. ¡°The day before yesterday, our orbital surveillance noticed worrying movements from all armies in the Occupation Zone¡­¡± The red dots all begin moving in a way it doesn¡¯t take a data analyst to work out the meaning of(!) ¡°Data analysis indicates a high likelihood of the convergence point being here¡­ for a massed attack¡­¡± a point is highlighted just to the West of the Safe Zone ¡°¡­err¡­ Yes, Major Lee?¡± ¡°Has orbital bombardment been attempted, Sir?¡± asks the woman, professionally. ¡°It has. Each army is still equipped with a network of shield generators that render our orbital attacks operationally ineffective.¡± The man pauses, briefly, allowing room for Lee to ask followup questions but she doesn¡¯t seem to have any, so he continues. ¡°Thankfully, it seems as if something the enemy lack, at the moment, are aerial troop transports¡­ meaning they are forced to make both their journey here and their attack, with only ground based vehicles¡­ This will significantly slow their advance!¡± He clears his throat here. ¡°Much as I would like to hope that a ceasefire will be called before War King Vlixrothju¡¯s army arrives¡­ We must prepare a defence of the Safe Zone, for the eventuality that it isn¡¯t!¡± The graphic zooms in on the green area, the Flynn Valley being displayed with the Ngunytju Mountains to its West and the rest of the (mostly mountainous) Flynn Peninsula to its East. ¡°Fortunately, this valley is a natural fortress¡­ there are only three practical points of ingress, here, here and¡­ here.¡± Three places are circled, one to the North of the Ngunytju, one to the South and one right through the middle. ¡°The passages to the North and South are wide, open plains and, as such, I am despatching around half of our available forces to each¡­ the Central passage, however, is a path that, while traversable, should be very easy to secure against incursion: A narrow passage only a few hundred metres at its widest¡­ Consequently, I am despatching a single battalion to safeguard it¡­ That should be enough to hold back the attacking army in an environment where they can¡¯t use their numbers to their advantage¡­ and they should be unwilling to use artillery bombardment for fear of collapsing the very passage they wish to pass through¡­ Now¡­¡± ---later--- I walk out of the briefing and immediately check my holo for my battalion¡¯s deployment. ¡®16,616th Battalion: Central Passage¡¯ Remembrance, Chapter 28 of 28 ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- ---Friday, 20th of November, 2685 Terran Calendar--- ---Eastern Pangaea, New Australia--- It¡¯s slow going as we walk through the Murnma Gorge, a natural crack in the solid rock of the cliffs surrounding it which formed, long enough ago, that the base has completely filled in with sediment. I warned the Captain about belchers and we did some intelligence gathering, both consulting old elevation charts and asking the survivors who claimed to be familiar with the area before we set off. Consensus was that this path was unsuitable for them, being saddle shaped. However, we were warned that there would likely be traps, set by partisans, before the Safe Zone¡¯s establishment. That¡¯s why we¡¯re moving so carefully over the, mostly buried, preWar road. We¡¯ve already suffered one casualty to a tripwire IED¡­ I¡¯m just glad Evans wasn¡¯t killed with that blast¡­ out of the fight for sure, though! The mules float along, in our midst, carrying all the supplies we¡¯re going to need to build a camp and a defensive palisade across the pass, a screen of trap spotters walking ahead of them. ¡°There¡­¡± announces Burrows, pointing forward ¡°¡­the Jackman Valley! If the attack comes, that will be where it comes from¡­ Set to work! Palisade 50m back from the mouth of the gorge so they can¡¯t use the blindspots to sneak up on us! I want medical tents there, bedding tents over there, the mess area can go here, I want the watchtower on this rise here, look out posts on the tops of the cliffs and make sure that both they, and the routes up to them, are NOT visible from the plains! Look lively and be alert for traps as you go!¡± ---Nathan¡¯s perspective--- ---Monday, 30th of November, 2685 Terran Calendar--- I¡¯m sitting in the watchtower, beneath a canopy of orange and red camo netting. My armour clad frame is motionless as I wait to be able to see what Milligan just commed to warn me of from one of the clifftop lookout hides. A vehicle, coming from the South, headed North. First one¡­ quickly followed by more. My heart stops as I wait to see what they do. I¡¯m simultaneously torn in two directions¡­ The dispassionate, god¡¯s eye strategist in me is praying that they stop¡­ This is the most defensible route they could choose to attack¡­ and even a total annihilation of this force will likely be fewer casualties than would be faced if the amassed army chose to turn South or keep going North. On the other hand, the war-weary man, surrounded by brothers and sisters in arms whom he does not wish to make die for him, the old soldier who wants nothing more than to go home and become a notable playact with a beautiful man or woman to hold each night¡­ is hoping that that army sees our barricade¡­ and moves¡­ along! The lead vehicle slows, turns toward us¡­ and stops¡­ The strategist celebrates¡­ the tired soldier grieves ¡­ ---Esme¡¯s perspective--- Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ---Tuesday, 19th of December, 2685--- *Dakadakadakadakadaka* blasts my gun as I fire down at the xenos charging our palisade for the fifth time today! My muscles have been screaming at me for the abuse they¡¯ve been suffering for about a week. Now though, I¡¯m finally actually feeling them becoming unresponsive! Just. a little. longer! If we can just hold out for a few more weeks, it¡¯ll be over¡­ One way or another¡­ Reinforcements have arrived¡­ the armies, North and South, are already preparing to flank the one we¡¯re fighting. They¡¯ll either surrender¡­ or be annihilated! Alternatively, the whole GU might give up and send these guys an order to surrender themselves to us! That¡¯s supposed to be happening any day now! Afterward, I can go back to Earth¡­ go to that London orphanage¡­ and scoop my little boy off the ground as he totters toward me¡­ implausibly, instantly recognising me for his mother¡­ He¡¯ll be 2 by the time I make it back¡­ ---Friday, 1st of January, 2686 Terran Calendar--- I¡¯m stood outside the palisade gates with Richards, keeping watch, ready to run inside and signal the doors to be closed if they look like they¡¯re about to charge us again. Someone¡¯s coming. Just one someone¡­ unarmed and with his strange, two thumbed hands raised above his head¡­ It¡¯s one of those snake fuckers that killed Oskar¡­ Probably one of the worst choices for an emissary to this battalion¡­ though they probably don¡¯t know that¡­ I know exactly why he¡¯s coming¡­ they¡¯re getting desperate¡­ They¡¯re going to try and coax us into abandoning the Flynn Valley to its fate and threaten to bombard us if we don¡¯t¡­ And we¡¯re going to refuse¡­ we can do nothing else¡­ I¡¯m never going to see my son again¡­ I¡¯m going to be buried at Red Sands, next to Oskar¡­ ¡°Halt!¡± shouts Richards. ---Ssafazaoz¡¯s perspective--- The Terran song of martyrdom and those musical¡­ pipe-bags are still clearly audible, when I make it back to my battle lines. fff? Wah fur Skotlunz Keng an Loh Friidumz sord wud stron gli Droh Friiman stan an friiman fo-oh Let hem foh wi mii!?fff ¡°They declined¡­¡± I say, sombrely, to the massive man with grey skin, four eyes and eight limbs. Vlixrothju snarls, around his tusks, and I turn to face the gorge mouth, ready to watch the insanity I just played my part in¡­ ¡°FIRE!!!¡± screams the [War King] into his comms. The camp is battered by the blast of a hundred artillery pieces, all aimed at that barricade, sounding¡­ The pipes fall silent as the cliffs collapse, burying our route forward¡­ ¡°They died for nothing¡­¡± observes my superior, Srassiahsk. ¡°No¡­ they didn¡¯t¡­¡± I correct. ---Gordon¡¯s perspective--- ---Wednesday, 13th of January, 2686 Terran Calendar--- We fly, in an atmo craft with the doors open, over the field of carnage that resulted from the xeno scum thinking that the best way to attack the valley was through a fucking bottleneck! The soldiers, visible below herding surrendered subHumans onto transports, pay us little mind as we pass overhead. Disgusting! Both those spineless cowards accepting our mercy after burning every olive branch we offered¡­ and those spineless Terrans still offering mercy to those who¡¯ve proven they just. don¡¯t. deserve. it! What we¡¯re after, where we¡¯re headed, are real heroes! Brave Humans who proved that they¡¯d rather die than give the xenos an inch¡­ by doing so! I don¡¯t know the names of the other five in the shuttle with me¡­ Better that way¡­ Not hard to work out that they¡¯re all men and women with stories much like mine, though. It takes us about 20 minutes to cross the mountains and for the Jackman Valley to become visible, with how slow we were going. It¡¯s heavily disturbed from the more than month long encampment and battle that just took place on it¡­ but completely deserted, luckily. The rubble clearance site comes into view and I see something I don¡¯t expect! Rather than the bodies being left where they lay, someone has made sure they''ve been gathered up into neat rows, still in their armour, against the canyon wall! ¡°Isn¡¯t that nice of them¡­¡± I sneer ¡°¡­the scum made our job easy for us(!)¡± The others chuckle. I take out a box of nitrile gloves and offer it to each of them as we come in to land. They all take a pair and put them on. ¡°Remember! Quick and clean! We don¡¯t need bodyparts, just swabs!¡­ We want to get out of here before recovery arrives! I don¡¯t want us to have to explain what we¡¯re doing here¡­ alright!?¡± They all nod and we hop off the transport. ¡°You two, start at opposite ends of the back row! You two, the middle! You and I¡¯ll do the front¡­¡± I bark. They hop to it and I take out my own bag of vials and cotton swabs. I bend down over the first corpse and remove her helmet. ¡°Euugh¡­¡± I gag, at the mottled skin of the redhaired woman in the throws of, post rigor mortis, secondary flaccidity ¡°¡­you¡¯ve seen better days, haven¡¯t you¡­!?¡± I take a cotton swab with my right hand and open her mouth with my left. ¡°¡­And you¡¯ll see better days again!¡± Ksem & Raala: An Icebound Odyssey, Chapter Nine ---Qrez¡¯s perspective--- This is an OUTRAGE! *fzzz**crack* How DARE he!? *fzzz**crack* Who does he think he IS!? *fzzz**crack* Demote me?! *fzzz**crack* Confine me to camp?! *fzzz**crack* Put me on nightguard duty?! *fzzz**crack* ME!?!?!? *fzzz**crack* And all because he cares more about these primitive brutes and their superstitions than he does about his own¡­ *fzzz**crack* ¡­PEOPLE! *fzzz**crack* It¡¯s not FAIR! *fzzz**crack* If that paleskinlover was half the leader he pretends to be, he¡¯d step aside and let a real man lead! ¡°Yo! Qrez!¡± My head whips from the rock I was about to pick up to see Re¡¯lem striding towards me from the camp. I tuck my sling into its pouch as my lieutenant joins me on the riverbank. ¡°Hey, boss¡­ I heard what happened¡­ I¡¯m sorry. For what it¡¯s worth, I don¡¯t think you deserved demotion over it!¡± ¡°Of course I don¡¯t!¡± I snarl, bitterly ¡°That boy who calls himself our leader just cares so much about not upsetting the brutes that he¡¯s letting them walk all over us!¡­ In what world is a man responsible for a successful elephant jump demoted to the bottom of the male hierarchy rather than lauded as a hero!?¡± ¡°Yeah, I know boss, I know! It¡¯s unfair!¡± I turn to glare at the water flowing past us, just seething. Then, I have an idea¡­ My back straightens and my eyes go wide as they pass over the bolder pitted with the marks left by my slingstones. I turn to Re¡¯lem, grinning broadly. Taken aback, it takes a moment for him to ask ¡°You have an idea, boss?¡± ¡°Yes I have, Re¡¯lem!¡± I answer, ardently ¡°We know we¡¯re more than a match for any of the little tribes of savages, right?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Aaaaand¡­¡± I begin, starting to pace along the water¡¯s edge as I do ¡°¡­we know we¡¯re more than a match for all of them if they joined forces!?¡± ¡°Yuh-huh?¡± ¡°By rights, we should either have told them to clear off and give us this entire plateau or stay and serve as our tributaries¡­ the only problem is, our oh-so-convincing leader doesn¡¯t want to do that! He wants us and them to be fwieeends(!) He wants us to crossbreed with them until we¡¯re one people! He wants our blood diluted with theirs! He wants our women to bear their men¡¯s children like Zgrizeh did! He already gave away Tsazel to that firefurred brute who walked us up the river! *pwuh*!¡± I spit in disgust. ¡°Alright? But what¡¯s the plan, boss?¡± I turn back to him ¡°The plan, Re¡¯lem, is that we take that choice out of his hands! We do something that will so alienate the paleskins that an easily winnable war between us and them becomes inevitable! Either Ksem gets on side or there will be sufficient will for a coup and I can take over to lead our people the way they should be led!¡± Perturbed but clearly intrigued, Re¡¯lem asks ¡°And¡­ what would we need to do to alienate them like that?¡± Grinning from ear to ear, I state ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯d say¡­ We could achieve it quite effectively by helping ourselves to what we¡¯re owed¡­¡± ¡°And¡­ what¡¯s that?¡± he asks, leaning in close. ¡°Well¡­ I know we¡¯ve both wanted a taste of the local women, right?¡± His face lights up like a wad of tinder struck by a spark. ---Bwey¡¯s perspective--- ¡°Ksem?¡± I hear Eshker¡¯s voice from outside the Main Tent. ¡°Just me I¡¯m afraid, Eshker(!)¡± I quip ¡°Come in and I¡¯ll help you if I can.¡± I see the flash of light as the door curtain opens. I turn from the bags of traded forest veg I was inspecting to look behind me and immediately frown. ¡°Eshker, what¡¯s wrong?¡± I ask, having seen the look on his face.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ just seen Qrez leaving the camp with Re¡¯lem.¡± ¡°And¡­ I take it you don¡¯t just mean to go and throw his tantrum on the riverbank?¡± I ask, not hopeful. ¡°No, Ma¡¯am¡­ They¡­ erm¡­ they went East¡­ into the forest¡­¡± ¡°Ah!¡± well shit! ---Lashra¡¯s perspective--- I walk through the woods of Bison territory, a sack of various vegetables slung over my back. This is the first time I¡¯ve ever gone outside my clan¡¯s lands on my own and¡­ it¡¯s both terrifying and exhilarating! All I¡¯ve got to do is make it to the outlanders¡¯ hearthstead, trade the vegies for the same weight of meat (still can¡¯t believe that!), sleep there and come home tomorrow. I¡¯ll be back quick enough that I don¡¯t even need to smoke the meat¡­ ¡®Very safe¡¯ I keep telling myself. Still¡­ I¡¯m constantly feeling the gnawing at the back of my mind that, if anything attacked me¡­ Well, nothing¡¯s going to attack me! I¡¯m going to trade this veg, bring back the meat and all my clan are going to say ¡®Well done, Lashra! What a brave girl you are, going to the outlanders all by yourself!¡¯ I smile at the thought¡­ then frown, curiously, at what I¡¯m hearing. Voices¡­ Men¡¯s voices¡­ Men¡¯s voices not speaking Basinspeak¡­ They appear from around the bend in the path, two tall, slim, flat faced and chested men with brown skin and small brown eyes. All three of us stop as they both notice me. I recognise the one with the sleek black hair as the scowling chief hunter from when I went to their hearthstead with Kordau. I don¡¯t recognise the other one in the fluffy hat and coat. I don¡¯t like the way they¡¯re looking at me. They confer with eachother for a brief moment before the chief hunter extends his hand to me and calls ¡°Vwet waande, meshken¡­ Vwet!¡± scooping it through the air in a clear beckon. My heart pounding, I don¡¯t go to them. Instead, I move one foot backwards. Immediately, the two of them begin sprinting towards me! Terrified, I turn and run. The leader said his chief hunter was as strong as Raala and I know I¡¯m not anywhere near that strong but, even if I were, there¡¯s two of them! He also said we were faster¡­ If I can just make it to Bison before I run out of stamina¡­ *whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-fwish* comes the sound from behind me. Something hits my legs and immediately tangles itself around them. My front hits the ground and I skid across the cold earth. Panicked, I reach down to my legs and see that they¡¯re tangled in some sort of weighted ropes. I hurry to try and free myself, seeing the two outland men rapidly approaching me from behind! I manage to get my right leg free, pulling off my sandal in the process, and decide that will have to do. I start to get up but before I¡¯m fully to my feet I take a sharp knee in the side, knocking the breath out of my lungs and knocking me back to the ground! Irresistible hands seize me and pull me to my feet. The sack of veg is yanked off my back and hurled away to land with a thud. I scream ¡°HELP! HELP!!! SOMEONE HEL-hmmf!¡± but a hand stifles my mouth, pressing the back of my head into a flat, bony chest. ¡°Q¡¯er nun eruhaleit tse teqte, Re¡¯lem.¡± the one holding me tells the other. As the one in the hat bends down to untangle the ropes from my left leg, my captor slips his hand beneath my dress and gropes my left breast. Tears stream down my face and my whole body is racked with sobs at what¡¯s happening to me. Futilely my hands try to pull his forearms down but, as strong as he feels, I think I could probably hang my entire weight from his arms without it making any difference! Why are they doing this!? Didn¡¯t the leader say they wanted to be friends?! Was that just a lie or is this part of making friends to them!? No¡­ no matter how different they are, they must know what they¡¯re doing is wrong! I wouldn¡¯t have a hand over my mouth unless they understood that my screams might draw in people who would want to rescue me! The hatted one finishes putting his throwing-ropes away and stands back up. He produces a wad of leather which he brings toward my face. The hand draws close but I clench my jaw and turn. The answer that that resistance meets is the sound of stone being drawn from behind me and a sharp edge pressed into my throat. Fresh tears stream down as I screw up my eyes and open my jaw. They stuff it tight with the wadding before the one behind produces a length of rope with a pouch woven into it. The pouch is drawn tight over my mouth and the ends knotted behind my head, gagging me. ¡°Eqhe tsergulez zgret mahelz¡­ tsataq¡­¡± says the one holding me. The other grins. Suddenly and violently, they each grab a side of my top and yank them over their respective shoulder. I give a stifled, sobbing scream as they rip my clothes off me and push them to the floor. I¡¯m thrown to the ground and my wrists are wrestled behind my back then lashed together there. Bound, gagged, naked and afraid before the two foreign men, I desperately make one last attempt to wriggle free, only to be grabbed, pulled back and rolled over. My weight being forced to rest on my bound arms hurts a lot! Looking down on my heaving chest, the sleek haired one pouts ¡°Tlekseh! Vetse!¡­ Beu¡­ masheh misho¡­ Qete neur nun Ksemu bwamvu eqhu¡­ Ashei¡­ Vetseknu vetse(!)¡± then he turns to his accomplice and gestures down to me ¡°Qrosha neuz?¡± The other one¡¯s tiny eyes go wide as he smiles, greedily, and starts pulling off his own clothes. I sob pathetically as my last hope that this was all some kind of big misunderstanding flees from me. There is no escaping what¡¯s about to happen as the naked man folds his horrifically gangling body down over me, pushes my legs apart and¡­ *thock* ¡­keels over dead? The chief hunter seems as confused about what just happened as I am. Then they appear. ---Bwey¡¯s perspective--- ¡°Shoot him.¡± I coldly order Reutsa, the only bowwoman among us. She doesn¡¯t make me ask twice, immediately drawing, nocking and loosing an arrow which hits the repulsive naked man in the neck, a single breath before he does something irreversible. He falls over their victim¡¯s leg without so much as a yelp of pain. Qrez starts but hasn¡¯t realised what just happened before I scream ¡°QREEEEEEEEEEEEZ!¡± breaking into a sprint. I flip my spear and, just as he turns, smash the shaft into his face with all my strength. ¡°You STUPID *whack* EVIL *whack* BASTAAAAAAARD!!! *whack**whack**whack*¡± I roar as I strike the rotted man, again and again, leaving his face a bloody pulp and a tooth missing as he writhes and groans on the ground. I look down on the wretch, my anger raging like a wildfire inside me and my spear begging me to flip it around and let it finish the job, it takes me a long moment to get myself under control. ¡°Reutsa, Ksakei, Tsemu, get him tied up. He¡¯s going to stand trial before my brother. Shelit, Versha, Netru, Wqetle, get that one redressed and make a travois so we can take him back.¡± I order. The girls get to it and I turn to the titchy redheaded local, lying on the ground gagged with Qrez¡¯s sling. Her eyes widen and her breathing quickens as I approach and she starts vainly trying to push herself away from me with her unbound legs. I stop and, forcing calm into my voice, say ¡°Heeeeey girl¡­ Is alright¡­ Not to hurt you¡­ Is safe now!¡± She seems to calm a little at the reassurance but she¡¯s obviously still scared witless! Slowly and gently, I reach out to her face and pull the sling rope out of her mouth, then pinch the wadding and withdraw it from between her teeth. With her ungagged, I kindly ask ¡°You alright?¡± ¡°¡­Nooooo?¡± she whimpers. ¡°Ah¡­ sorry¡­ is bad question. You hurt? You sit tall?¡± The only answer she gives is a heartbreaking blubber but she does at least rock herself into a seated position. I round her back. I¡¯m reaching for my knife when I stop myself. As tempting as it is to just cut this rope (since it¡¯ll need to be destroyed anyway to keep the rot of this sin from contaminating anything else it might be used for in future) and have done with it, having a stone edge drawn on her is certainly not what this girl needs right now! As I dig my nails into the knots, trying my best to get them loose, the girl dimly asks ¡°This wasn¡¯t¡­? They weren¡¯t¡­?¡± ¡°This bad thing us, same like you!¡± I preempt her ¡°VERY bad! So sorry!¡± hoping my sincerity comes across even in my broken Basinspeak. I eventually manage to get her wrists free and pull her to her feet. The tiny girl is heavier than I expected but not a problem for me. I bend down and pick up her dress before turning around to hand it to her. ¡°Here¡­¡± I say. Her eyes go from the dress to me, then- ¡°*Oof*!¡± I grunt as the naked girl impacts my midriff, sobbing into my front and jabbering far too fast for me to understand, crushing me slightly as her arms pin mine to my sides. I raise a hand to pat her back and, not sure what else to do, just do my best to make reassuring noises at her.