by SF Edwards
“Gokhead's a typical Drashig from what I can see. He’s subservient to women but much more cerebral,” she observed.
“I noticed that about him too. Most Drashig I’ve met are a lot more volatile. Bichard even said that having another non-Anulian on the team made him feel better. I know it couldn’t have been easy for him growing up on Anul.”
“What’s the big bug’s story?”
Blazer chuckled. Even Bichard’s old nickname followed him here. “Bichard escaped from Corether, his home world, before he matured. No one quite knows why, but unlike most Coretherian drones, he’s sentient. One of a kind really.”
“So why’s he here?”
“He’s a free sentient and he chose to be here.”
They continued their run for some time, weaving through the woods until Blazer tripped over a root that crossed their path. He recovered before he could fall and took a moment to stop and catch his breath. Looking back along the path, he saw how far they’d run. We must be coming up on those deep ruts that separate the campus from the farms. Looking up confirmed his suspicions.
“Too much for you?” Chris asked, continuing to jog in place.
Blazer leaned back against a tree and looked up across the artificial sun sphere towards the opposite side of the academy. “Just give me a pulse.” He spotted the very field they’d drilled on earlier that now had some second annura cadets exercising. “I saw nine cadets drop already this cycle. They turned in their forms and left,” Blazer commented.
“I saw them too, and three more since dinner, wimps. Now come on, let’s go.”
Blazer nodded and they headed off the main trail. Blazer loved running in the direction this turn took them on. The centrifugal gravity spin always made it feel like he was running faster on the up-spin direction, and on a station this small even more so. “You ever served on a station like this before?”
Chris shook her head. “No, just planetside and then in the fleet. You?”
“I was born on-ship and then grew up on-planet. I couldn’t go back into space fast enough. I hated being on-planet, especially the cities.”
Chris gave a silent nod before replying. “I know what you mean. The big cities are nothing but trouble. Give me the countryside any cycle.”
“Exactly! I remember when I first moved back to Anul, there was this burnt-out street lamp and a cracked sidewalk outside my window. It gave me nightmares for over a tridec. I just couldn’t handle the infrastructure breakdown. Still can’t.”
“I never thought about that, I just…,” she hesitated, almost revealing more about herself then she’d intended. “I hate the way the cities attract degenerates.”
Blazer decided not to press as they continued to weave their way through the woods, each turn offering a new surprise to their footing as the station turned beneath them. They came out into a clearing and Blazer looked around again. They were clear on the other side of the academy from the dorms. His legs screamed for mercy. He had to stop and rest for just a moment. “Maybe we should have taken a shorter route,” he laughed, feeling a bit out of breath.
Chris nodded and sat back on the dusty track. “Yeah, I think we got pushed hard enough this cycle.”
“Want to just walk back?”
Chris shook her head. “Slow it down maybe, but not walk.”
Blazer looked back towards the farms and noticed someone heading their way. He squinted at the approaching figure. He recognized the auburn hair in an instant. She trudged along with a full pack on her back while carrying two more in her hands. “Marda!” he called out as she neared.
She smiled back at him in recognition and quickened her pace. Blazer couldn’t believe his luck as she bounded towards them, never taking his eyes from hers. “Blazer! Oh thank God! A familiar face,” she gasped.
“What are you carrying?” he asked, taking one of the bags.
“Fresh fruits, veggies and juice from the farm,” she replied. “One of those orbs you came in with works the farm now and he came and showed me who to talk to so I could get fresh food.”
Chris walked up and looked at the packs. Each one was full of fruit, vegetables, and bottles of juice and milk. “Dag girl, you have enough here to feed an entire squadron!”
“Yeah, that was my plan. I figured they’d give me one bag tops. Do you think you can help me lug all this back to the dorms? I’ll let you have anything in them for your trouble.”
“Not a problem,” Blazer replied and took the heaviest pack, slinging it across his back.
Chris opened a pack and pulled out a bottle of fresh milk before she slung it onto her back. “I’ll take this,” she declared.
Blazer watched Chris took a swig of the bottle and wished he’d thought to do the same before she turned back to Marda with a note of concern in her dark eyes. “Wait a cent. Can you even do this? I mean, can you take this much food without it affecting the station’s supply?”
Marda nodded. “The farms here produce a surplus since we have autocooks and it allows cadets to take the extra as a result. You just have to get permission from the Farm Chief. Next time I’m going to try and score some eggs and meat too.”
Blazer liked the sound of that and remembered how his mother would often bring him fresh Tash fruit as a child from the Vaurnel’s botanical bay. “I may have to look into doing the same.”
The three of them headed back towards the dorm. Was she running with all three of these? I would even run with this one. “So what squad did you get assigned to?” he asked.
Marda’s shoulders slumped a moment. She bit her lip before responding. “Training Squadron 11.”
“What’s the matter with that?” Chris asked.
“It’s not designated as a Special Operations eligible unit.”
“Wait a cent,” Blazer replied, anger welling up within him at the injustice. “The very fact that you’re here means you’re eligible for Special Operations. That and the fact that you’re joining the Medical Corps should have locked you in automatically.”
“I know, but I’ll bet that my father may have something to do with it,” she sighed. “He never wanted me to enter the academy, let alone go Spec Ops. After I got my Confederate status, he just wanted me to go to med school.” Blazer felt her fingertips slide along his arm and that simple caress calmed him more than he expected. “But there is a ray of hope! Mine is a replacement squadron. So, given the 60% washout rate that Admiral Sares keeps quoting, I should be able to make my way into a Special Ops team before the beginning of Spec Ops Training.”
“That’ll suck for unit cohesion,” Chris commented as they rounded a bend.
“Seriously. But our squadron leader’s an ex-chief and he’s the most charismatic Chret I’ve ever met. He’s got us all under his wings already.”
Blazer laughed. “Under his wings, huh. I’d almost be jealous if that chlorine breathing bird man weren’t stuck in an environment suit.”
Marda smiled back at him and made a show of waggling her hips at him. “Jealous, huh?”
Blazer felt his cheeks flush as he watched the motion, her sweat-soaked mustard yellow PT uniform hugging her in all right places. “So what about you two? Are you in the same unit?” she asked, giggling.
“Yeah,” Blazer replied. “Squadron 13. We’ve got two Special Ops Candidate Teams. You won’t believe who the other half of our team is though. We have the 3267th Tomeris Security Battalion.”
“The Explosions?” Marda almost yelled as she skidded to a halt.
“The very same,” Blazer smiled that he’d caught her by surprise. “Yeah, I never thought I’d meet anyone who’d make Arion look small by comparison.” Marda looked away and sighed at the mention of Arion’s name and Blazer immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, about Arion, last cycle, he just…”
“He doesn’t like mediums. I get it. Look, I don’t want to cause trouble between you and a friend.”
“No, it’s not like that. Trust me. Arion’s just stubborn sometimes.”
The three of them continued to talk as they proceeded around the academy. By the time the dorms came back into view, the fatigue of the cycle had set in. Marda’s words, while melodious to him, were not enough to keep him going much longer. He wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity though and hated to see the conversation end.
The sound of running feet ripped Blazer out of the conversation as another trail opened up on their left. He turned just in time to see two men burst onto the main path, running right into them. He slipped back out of their way, but the trailing man slammed right into Marda’s pack. Concerned for her safety, Blazer dropped his bag and swung around to catch Marda before she could fall, pulling her out of the way. His pulse raced as he turned his attention towards the two men and groaned. Though one was shorter than Blazer, everything about the stature and build of the two men screamed to Blazer that they were Tomeris.
Blazer made to apologize, but before he could, the smaller, white-haired man went on the attack. “Watch where you be going,” he roared in the typical Tomeris style before he turned to face the pair. As he did, however, a light of recognition entered his eyes. “You be those little,” he bit back the words. “I mean, you’re the poor bastards that have the misfortune of getting assigned the losers of my old unit,” he went on, hiding his accent. “I’m sure Sergeant Trevis didn’t properly introduce me. I’m Chertsin, and this is Saldray,” he went on, motioning towards the man behind him.
“Trevis told us,” Blazer replied and fixed the man with a hard gaze. The tone of Chertsin’s voice scratched at Blazer’s nerves.
Chertsin fixed Blazer with a suspicious glare. “What else did that good Sergeant tell you?” he asked, spitting out his former squad leader’s rank.
Blazer shook his head. “He told me enough, and I doubt it’s something you want me spouting off.”
“Spit it out, you little piece of scrap!”
Blazer frowned at Chertsin. He wouldn’t let him goad him into saying something he might regret, or that could be consider slanderous. “Let’s just say I know what happens to the men under your command.”
“How dare you say that, you fragging loser! Those shitheads died because they made a mistake, not me. Not that a twerp like you would understand.”
Blazer took a step back, while Trevis told Blazer to watch out for Chertsin, he forgot how excitable Tomeris were and regretted saying so much to him.
“You don’t know anything! You’re just a child. You come out here after being home playing your childish games and think you’re going to be the top of the lot, but you’re not! You’re nothin! You be less than nothing,” he bit back, his accent slipping.
Blazer realized that he must have hit a nerve with the man, but who was he to say that to him? “Look, I served my time. You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough. You’re some privileged little child of Anul. You grew up on your nice, safe, world and mommy and daddy coddled you the entire way before scooting you off to some nice, behind the borders, safe assignment. And before that, you played sports with mommy and daddy cheering you on…”
Blazer leapt into Chertsin’s face and it took everything he had not to grab the man and throw him to the ground. There, he would deal him a lesson he sorely needed. “My parents were killed aboard the Vaurnel!” He heard Marda gasp behind him. It wasn’t something he told people right away. He knew he couldn’t lose focus now. “You know nothing about me! Don’t you even think that you know who I am or that you are better than anyone else here! We are all the same level now. Whether we served frontline units or rearguards, you should know as well as I do, that everyone here has proven themselves capable,” he argued back; quoting the Operations Instruction Manual regarding Special Operations admission requirements. He of course left out the last five words, “of killing a hostile sentient.”
Chertsin took a step forward to come face to face with Blazer, the defiance and anger that he felt towards Blazer evident. “Child, I will grind you under my boot.”
“Go ahead and try it,” Blazer growled taking a step forward.
Instinct forced Blazer to back away, as Saldray sprang out of his slouched position behind Chertsin. The man was a giant by anything but Tomeris standards. His eyes were cast in a cold dark shade of grey that screamed his murderous intent at Blazer.
Blazer took half a step back when he felt Marda standing behind him, her arms crossed in defiance while Chris came up beside him. What are you two thinking? That Saldray guy could snap you both in half with a finger.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Marda called out, her voice soothing to Blazer’s ears.
The massive man took a step forward, his hands clasping and unclasping. He was about to end this argument. Blazer couldn’t let Marda come to harm, however, nor could he risk starting a fight. If he did, it could mean the end of all their careers. A familiar insect-like chittering from above made his lip curl into a twisted smile. “Before you do that, consider this. If you throw that punch, we will have every right to defend ourselves by any means necessary.”
Chertsin just sneered back at them. Blazer forced himself to focus not on that malevolent smile, but on building up a tazing charge in the electrolytic layer beneath his skin. It would be a gamble and not something he’d dared since Garov 18965. But it was his surest way to end a fight without dragging it out into a slugfest. He just yearned that the familiar chittering and whistling from above was what he thought it was. He felt Chris tap his foot, but he dared not take his eyes off the men ahead of them to look at her.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she whispered.
Blazer prayed that he did too. He caught a subtle twitch of Chertsin’s head and Saldray leapt forward. Blazer fought his instincts to dive away and instead stepped ahead of Marda as the man’s massive fist raced towards where he’d been standing.
The chittering above turned into a horrid screech that froze everyone else to the spot. Blazer seized his chance and grabbed Saldray’s outstretched arm. He discharged the electrical tazing pulse from the electrolytic layer beneath his skin and cut the energy surge short before it knocked Saldray out. It was still enough to send him stumbling backwards, his limbs twitching.
Blazer turned back towards Chertsin and found Chris racing towards him. Blazer held out an arm to stop her. Before anyone else could react, Bichard landed with a thud ahead of Blazer. Everyone except Blazer scrambled backwards as the insectoid reared back to his full height. The plates of his armored exoskeleton slid apart enough to allow him to stand almost twice Blazer’s six-metra height.
Blazer did his best to block out the high-pitched squeal of his friend’s attack cry and stepped up beside him, not questioning from where he must have jumped down. “You really want to try it now?” He asked and watched as Chertsin backed away, terror in his eyes. “I didn’t think so,” he continued as Chertsin ran off into the wooded area with Saldray.
Blazer held his breath as he listened to their footfalls fade into the distance. When he let it out, it emerged as a chuckle before he looked about for the packs of fruit.
Bichard joined him, recompressing his exoskeleton until he stood only a head taller than Blazer. His red-brown armored plates proved a marked contrast to his friend’s tan skin and mustard yellow PT uniform. The laugh that emanated from Bichard’s leathery snout was as horrid as the attack cry with the punctuation of his four mandibles clacking together enough to send many species running. Blazer turned to Chris and Marda as they stood there, staring at Bichard. “It’s OK,” he laughed.
Marda shook her head in defiance. “I could have handled myself in a fight. You didn’t have to defend me. And what did you do to that big guy? Are you an Energy Gatherer?”
“He tries not to show it off too much,” Bichard commented. He picked up one of the packs and fixed her with his massive multi-faceted eyes. “It’s a good thing though that I spotted those two coming.”
Blazer slapped Bichard on the back. “Thanks for the save there, Big Bug.”
UCSBA-13, Dorm Level 3C Common Area
After seeing Marda to her room, Blazer accepted a bottle of juice and Bichard a small sack of Tava Berries before the trio retired to the common area on their floor. They found several other cadets occupying the various couches when they arrived, a holovid of a Slamball match back on Anul lighting up the center of the space. Blazer collapsed into a plush chair as Chris approached a couch and shooed the two tired cadets sitting there away. Blazer chuckled and held the cool bottle of juice to his forehead as Chris sat down and laid her braided hair onto the armrest.
Blazer opened the bottle and took his first swig of the juice. He reveled in the sweet, cooling nectar as it poured down his throat. “Just what I needed.”
“Who’s playing?” Chris asked, turning to the game.
“Looks like the qualifiers for the annual Anulian Intramurals,” Bichard answered and began to stroke Chris’ hair. “That looks like the Midduwn Cavaliers and the Capben Central Wolves.”
Blazer looked over and sure enough those were the right uniforms. “I wonder how the Dorados are doing,” Blazer inquired of their old school team.
“Lost out in the first round,” Bichard replied, his antennae drooping. “They haven’t been the same since we graduated,” he continued, fingering Chris’ hair again.
“What’s the deal Big Bug?” Chris asked, sitting straight up and pulling back her hair.
“I am sorry, just nerves, and doing hair helps relax me.”
Chris shot Blazer a quizzical look.
“He’s actually quite a good hairdresser.”
Chris shrugged and lay back down. “You make me look foolish and I will end you,” she announced to Bichard and smiling his horrid smile, Bichard set to work.
Blazer turned to the holo as a nasty play ended with a player down and they cut to clips of old games. The scene featured highlights from previous annuras’ tournaments and after a pulse, he watched himself run across the holographic field. He cringed at the sight; the final game of the tournament three annura earlier. He’d watched that match too many times to count, trying to figure out how the other team had beat them. Blazer held his breath when the hologram showed the Scibe City Demon’s forward slip past his younger self with the ball before lobbing it at the lower of the two goal rings. The holographic Bichard from three-annura earlier dove for the ball. His fingers missed it by a centimetra before it sailed through the hoop. Next to him, he heard Bichard’s mandibles clack together; he had always blamed himself for the goal.
