by Casey Herzog
“Just remember, you are both oddities to the rest of the cohort. I do not wish to see you here forming your own cell apart from the rest of the unit.”
Before Peter could come up with any response, a voice came out over the speakers. “Notice to all staff. We have just passed Earth Gate and are beginning our course towards Mars.”
That was the entire announcement. Peter looked around, wishing there was a viewport he could use to look out into the void and catch a glimpse of Earth Gate Station. This was a pivotal moment in his life, and his residing memory of it would now be of sharing a stilted conversation with his commander about his choice of friends. It left him deflated. Rather than try and savor what he could from the moment, Peter decided to just let it pass. “I’d best return to work. The sooner we have these vegetables checked, the sooner our cohort can clock off on leave, right? That's got to be something the company can band together on.”
Returning to his section, Peter thought of opening a wall seam close to Nisha. However, before he could, he noticed Minerva walking in his direction once again. He knew Alphred would still be watching them both and wondered at her audacity in ignoring their commander’s order. As she slipped by him, she stopped for only a moment. “Looks like passing Earth Gate was a bust for you; I’m sorry.” She carried on walking, but Peter was touched she had said it all the same. Though there was a good deal of the weird about Minerva, even beyond her oddities as a Martian, he could not help but feel she was the best person he could hope to know here. Even if he had to play nicer with the rest of the cohort, he wasn’t going to just give up this promising friendship in the making.
CHAPTER 10
It didn't take long for life on the Unity to take shape. The ship, though the largest ever constructed by mankind, was still limited in what opportunities it could offer its large crew. The cramped conditions of life on board made privacy limited. The mess hall was about the only space, aside from crew quarters, where one could spend free time. It meant that, barring a particularly strong social circle, work and drills were a welcome diversion from the monotony of life on the ship.
Combat training was by far the most interesting part of the week for the Pluto Cohort. Zero-G had not yet lost its novelty for the majority of the group, and any training or work that took place outside of the rotundas was welcome.
Chief Evans led the sessions in the sparring room. He was a harsh tutor. He was one of those teachers who expected his pupils to understand and carry out his commands perfectly the first time. He was a short man, squat and compact. His muscles gave him a blockish outline that made him look like a brick. In the empty chamber, he floated above the cohort, arms folded, as he directed the drills.
Drills were all the Pluto Cohort could do. Their lack of grace and poise in Zero-G made combat lessons seem laughable, like trying to teach an infant jujitsu before it could walk. Right now, Evans was teaching them to walk. Throughout the hour, the cohort practiced aimed drifting. Disengaging their magnetic boots, they had to kick off the ground, move to precise locations. then reengage their boots. It was trickier than it looked. A third of the cohort had trouble pushing off the ground. Some used too much force, others too little. The latter ended up drifting, never reaching their destination. Meanwhile, the others moved so fast they never had a chance of controlling their landing. A plethora of bruises and concussions were all this group seemed to get out of these lessons.
For Peter, working in Zero-G came a with a little more ease. Of course, he had the advantage of the cohort's personal coach watching his back. Minerva was in a league above the others when it came to Zero-G. What those around her were only now learning, she had learned in infancy. Even their Armstrong, Alphred, could not match her in skill. She floated about, dispensing advice and pointers, while the others worked. She divided her time amongst the whole cohort, but certain people took more of her attention.
Peter was in the upper echelons of the class for Zero-G operations. He was hardly perfect, but he had the correct mix of control and power. He could reach any corner Chief Evans ordered him to. He could even bounce between several targets in quick order. This did not stop Minerva from floating over to him between her rounds with the others though.
"I have to say, Peter, I'm having a hard time figuring you out right now."
Peter was catching his breath from a quick shot across the room, taking in all four walls. "Oh yeah. how's that then?"
"I remember this guy on the shuttle who was scared of kicking off into the void with our commander."
"Hey, that was different." Peter grinned as he corrected her. "We were launching ourselves at a freighter packed with explosives that was headed straight for us."
"Wow, she sounds like quite a nut."
Peter opened his mouth to make a quip in return, but found himself interrupted.
"Minerva, focus on those who are struggling. Peter is capable of looking after himself." Alphred hung above them, floating across the training room. He bounced off the wall and angled himself downwards toward them both. "Peter, you're capable of training some of the others; why don't you help Nisha find her space legs?”
Peter felt a blush rising to his cheek. He gave Minerva a conspiratorial smile, then shot off in Nisha's direction. As he floated up to her, he noted Alphred sharing some words with his second.
"Oh Lord, am I that bad they’re sending you to give me lessons now?" Nisha was holding onto the railings on the side wall, struggling even to keep her feet oriented to the floor.
"Well, if you don't want my help, I can leave you here. You'll get it on your own in time, I'm sure. I hear Chief Evans is even thinking of doing some off-duty sessions for you guys. It will keep you occupied while the rest of us a chilling in the mess."
Nisha sucked in a breath, her body stiffening in frustration. She didn't look Peter in the eye, turning her head to the side as she answered him. "Fine. Point made."
For the next ten minutes, Peter helped Nisha practice her lift-offs. She wa too cautious. Every time she took off, she lifted off the wall with little more than a nudge. Peter engaged his boot’s electromagnets, staying attached to the side wall as she made her take off. Each time she moved with too little force, he would grab her ankles and pull her back to the wall.
"Oh, come on, that had to be hard enough for you." Nisha let out a low screech of frustration as Peter pulled her back to the wall.
"Yeah, now you're going too hard because you’re wound up. Trust me, you'll thank me for this when you’re not the one nursing a bruised skull like Michael is."
Michael, one of the more hot-headed members of the cohort flipped a finger in Peter's direction as he passed by. Nisha looked at the other boy, her frown softening as she let herself relax. Rather than shoot off again, she engaged the electromagnets on her boots and rested by Peter's side.
"Feeling a bit better now?" Peter asked. He looked at the others flying about. Chief Evans wasn't looking in their direction yet, but he would if they didn't get back to practice soon.
Nisha nodded. She didn't disengage her locks though, her concentration focused on Minerva. "So, you and Tharsis, that a real thing?"
Peter groaned. "My God, is this still all people are talking about?"
Nisha shrugged. "All I'm saying is you two spend a lot of your down time together. Tharsis often talks about you with us during our night shift."
Peter didn't buy it, feeling like this was some kind of ploy to see if he'd blush. "Is there a reason you're hung up on the idea?"
"Only that you seem like a cute mix for each other. I mean she's this freaky Martian with a bald head, and like, an Amazonian in size, and you're..." Nisha trailed off. It was too late to stop her point from coming across.
"I see; she's the freaky Martian and I'm guy with the messed-up face you can't stand to look at."
"Hey, I didn't mean that." Nisha put out a hand, but it was too late for her to make amends.
"Remember to push off with more force." Peter disengaged his electrom
agnets and pushed off from the wall. There were others who needed help, but he didn't bother with them either. He looked around, taking in the faces of the cohort one by one. Two girls had floated over to Nisha. He couldn't hear their conversation, but he saw them both put reassuring arms around her while shooting loaded looks in his direction. Others were looking at him too, several groups of guys, including Michael. He couldn't tell what the problem was. They didn't want him being their friend, but objected when he made friends elsewhere? The whole situation was stupid. It amused him to think they were actually meant to be going to war together now. The thought of any of his cohort taking a bullet for him, or vice-versa, was ridiculous.
"Peter, I thought I told you to stick with Nisha." Alphred floated down to him. His brow knotted in confusion as he looked up at him. "Did you say something to her?"
"Yeah, I insulted her, then left her to get on alone; that's why her friends are looking after her."
Alphred raised an eyebrow. Peter couldn't tell if his commander knew he was being sarcastic. "Is there some problem I need to be aware of here?"
"Several, but none of them are my fault." Peter noticed Minerva looking down at him as she helped guide another of the cohort across the space above them. She too was looking down at him, the only one not seeming to judge him.
Alphred followed his gaze and pursed his lips. "I will be candid. I am not sure Minerva is the best fit for our second. Aside from her preferential treatment of certain team members, there is a definite hostility the others treat her with."
"Yeah, that might not be her fault either. I don't know if it's occurred to you, that we aren't the problem. Still, if you want to demote us, you'll get no complaints from me; then you might stop hassling us."
Alphred turned his attention back to Peter. "We're about done with this session. Go on ahead of the others. I'll invent something to explain your departure."
Peter wasn't going to argue with that. Without another word, he disengaged from the wall and pushed off towards the door.
Though he knew skipping dinner would let down Minerva and be a breach of orders, Peter chose to stay in his bed. He wasn't feeling hungry, and he prayed he might lose himself in sleep before the others got back from the mess. He lay on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow as he tried to smother out the world.
There were five planets between the Unity and Pluto. He had not expected deep space would make his peers become his friends in a day, but he hadn't expected things to be worse. He tried to rationalize it all. There was the incident with the freighter and his headlines for it, but there had to be more to it.
Before he could hit upon an answer to his questions, the sound of the door alerted him to the appearance of others.
"Hey, quiet; he's in here."
"Damn. Is he asleep?"
Peter did not want to deal with anyone. He kept still, and regulated his breathing. This was not the first time he'd had to do this. Back on Earth, he had lived in dorms of one kind or another his entire life. He knew how to fake sleep with ease to avoid the attention of others. It was all in keeping the breathing as even and deep as possible.
"He's out. I shared a room with him for the last year, and he's a deep sleeper."
Peter had never been a deep sleeper, but there were plenty of times he had feigned sleep. He recognized the person speaking as Jason. He'd been one of the worst roommates he had had to deal with, always making wisecracks about his face. He was the type that hated not only Peter's celebrity status, but also the way their tutors at the space program would not permit him to fail.
"We could go back to the Mess?"
"Nah, Armstrong is doing his rounds again." Peter couldn't tell who was talking, but he wondered what “Armstrong's rounds” were.
"I can't get a lead on him. He makes Peter his third on his first day, has to cope with that other freak as his second. It's like the Pluto Cohort is some joke to the chiefs."
"Someone on Neptune says our cohort is here for the publicity. Pluto isn't even the biggest base of secessionists. We're only here to make good headlines for the mission."
"I don't know about that. Of course, Neptune Cohort wants to believe they're the important ones. They're right about Tharsis and Peter though.”
"So what have you been looking at then?"
"Regulations we could use to have our leadership structure re-evaluated."
Peter took a deeper breath. It was becoming harder to maintain the illusion of sleep as he was listening.
"You want to get rid of Armstrong?"
"Of course not. You're never going to kick an Armstrong off the leadership. I'm only interested in seeing our number two and Peter put in their proper place. There are regulations that allow us to object to our third. Because Peter's position was only established by Alphred, we can question it."
"Well, it's a start."
"The role of third is as an advisor to the commander. If we can prove that Peter does not represent Pluto Cohort’s interests in matters, we could have a case to bring to the chiefs for his removal."
"Sounds pretty flimsy to me. You already said the chiefs are engineering to keep Peter and Minerva in their positions for the Earth public. They are going to need something particular to want to kick them out. I have something better."
Peter pursed his lips. He didn't mind these guys wanting to oust him from his current position. Still, the way the last one had spoken, he couldn't help but feel a greater tinge of worry. He continued to listen, but something had made the group clam up.
"Alright guys?"
Someone else had come in, and now the conspirators were in retreat. It was more than likely the others would now be coming back to prepare for sleep. Whatever Michael and the others had in mind for him and Minerva, Peter wasn't keen to discover what it was.
“So, have you heard the latest?” The late-comer to the billet sounded amused. “Even though over half our cohort are not EVA certified and can't join us, the cohort is expected to do a simulated combat situation against Saturn Cohort.”
“You're kidding.” Peter could hear feet pacing back and forth near him as Michael spoke.
“Chief Evans says it will motivate the rest of the cohort to catch up to those of us who are EVA certified. I think the chief just wants to prove he's a hard ass to the Admiral.”
One of the others let out a sigh. “We're going to get creamed out there.”
CHAPTER 11
Peter took a deep breath. His leg ached. He had engaged the suit's thrusters too readily and was propelled with force into the Unity's hull. It was not serious, likely no more than a bruise. Still, it was a nagging pain and distracted his mind. Behind him, someone was running with their shield raised. Peter watched as the astronaut used a controlled thrust to launch themselves over Peter's hunched form, then reactivated the magnets in their boots to come down in front of him. They were peerless. On landing, their body coiled like some spring waiting to be unleashed. Their shield raised and spear pointed outward in defiance of the enemy the figure was like some hero of Greek myth ready to defend him against incoming fire.
“Peter, can you get up? I saw that fall.”
It was Alphred. Of course it was Alphred. Suddenly, the awe with which Peter had held the figure defending him melted away into frustration. He should have known.
“I'm fine.” Somehow, Peter wasn't lying. He was fine. The pain in his right leg disappeared in an instant. He did not want to be a burden to his commander, or be outdone by him. He rose to his full height and tried not to lean on his spear for support.
“You had the best view of the situation. Report.”
Peter gritted his teeth and took another deep breath. He couldn't afford to sound defeated or insubordinate, not this time. “The enemy are entrenched and outnumber us almost three to one. We don't have the numbers, and we have already lost two of ours.
Alphred nodded, head still looking ahead in case of a counter attack. “We need to draw the enemy out. We aren't going to be able to
take them out this way.”
“They have all the advantages before them, Commander.” Peter reminded him. “Their main body have formed a shield wall, and the rest are manning the timer. They have no reason to break rank.”
“Well, we need to give them a reason. And it's not a timer.” Alphred's answer was clipped. Peter almost thought he detected frustration in his commander’s tone. He didn't seem to cope well in a losing situation.
“Commander, this is Michael. I'm with Colin south of your position. We were re-routed by archer fire. Should we regroup at your position... Commander?”
Peter pursed his lips. Though still holding that heroic pose, his commander was losing some of his invincible quality. Indecision was laced into the silence as he tried to analyze the situation for an answer.
