The Mighty First, Episode 1: Special Edition

by Unknown

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  engaged, and that Mark was up for promotion. He took particular amusement in watching his youngest boy try his first cigar. Mark had made the mistake of inhaling it like a cigarette, and was launched into a coughing fit.

  “You don’t inhale,” Robert explained. “Puff it. Let the aroma linger on your palate, and then out through your nose and mouth.”

  Mark practiced it a few times, and actually began to enjoy it. It helped to have a sip of the coffee once in a while, though. The creaminess of the java complimented the corona quite well.

  Talk between the X.O., and the operations officer known as Bull began to get a little loud, getting everyone’s attention. They were on the topic of current events, and that was of widely divided opinion among many.

  “The man is merely posturing,” Bull was saying, using his coffee cup to gesture as he spoke. “Grozet has been unhappy for years with his limited vote in the Trade Alliance. He’s power hungry, and trying to expand his influence. “

  “I don’t think I’d consider a military strike on one of his own colonies ‘posturing.’” The X.O. disagreed.

  “Pala refused to submit to his newly declared empire,” Bull countered. “What did they expect from him? They know he’s a madman.”

  “What about the way they ejected our ambassador?” Another officer interjected. “And burned down the Earth embassy?”

  Bull shrugged, taking a sip of his java, “Again, posturing. Grozet is just signaling to us in no uncertain terms to mind our own business. That stuff in the Storian system is an internal matter. We should leave them alone.”

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  The X.O. pursed his lips, slowly stirring creamer into his coffee, “Hmmm…and, what would you say about the battle group that Grozet has steaming toward the Denmoore System?”

  Bull opened his mouth as if to reply, but closed it again. Instead, he leaned forward, looking toward the head of the table, “What do you think about it all, Captain?”

  Mark’s father took a leisurely draw from his cigar before replying.

  “The man clearly wants a war,” he answered from behind a cloud of smoke. “As to why he’s suddenly setting off on a rampage, I couldn’t guess, nor do I care. What I can tell you with certainty, is that the minute that fool fires a shot at Denmoore, the Attayans are going to go apeshit. About a heartbeat after that, we’re going to find ourselves drawn into this thing. Believe that.”

  There was a pause in the debate, while everyone traded looks of uncertainty.

  “War,” Bull said, weighing the word with distaste. “Dear God.”

  The X.O. finished his coffee, and sat the cup down on its plate, “Well, maybe the diplomats can stave this whole thing off, before it goes too far.”

  Another period of silence. The jovial mood that had been present during the meal was killed. Everyone gazed down at the table, or their cups, or simply toyed with what remained of their cigars. The tension was palatable.

  “It doesn’t hurt to have hope,” Robert finally said, fixing his officers with a stern look, meeting each of their eyes. “But, it does hurt to harbor false hope. This crew is chiefly fifteen hundred young men and women barely into their twenties. They look up to us to lead them. To appear confident in our decisions, and in the situation

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  at hand. We have to be prepared to do the unthinkable if that order comes down. Stay crisp, and keep your departments informed.”

  Mark, who had been content to remain invisible during the exchange, was no longer able to keep quiet. He looked at his father with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “Do you think that Grozet might suck us into the first war we’ve seen in over a hundred years?”

  The captain rolled his cigar in his mouth, considering his answer for a moment.

  “As far as I’m concerned,” Robert told him, “he already has. It just hasn’t been put to paper, yet.”

  Five

  Transition

  Attaya Prime

  September 20th, Earth Standard Calendar

  The two-day transit passed without incident.

  The USS Belleau Wood emerged from Anderson Drive at the outer reaches of the Attayan star system, and skirted inward, approaching the fourth planet right on schedule. The home world of the furry humans had two moons, one at about the same size and distance as Earth’s. The other a smaller one further out.

  The Attayans had an orbital harbor very much like Star Harbor, larger in diameter, and older by about half a century. New Tonip Station, named after the capital of Attaya Prime, was a favored liberty port with the Earth navy. Star Harbor was largely an industrial, and residential endeavor. New Tonip Station had added on an entire environment dedicated to entertainment. Bars, both clean and seedy, lined a beach that led to clear, blue water excellent for swimming and diving. Eateries, theaters, night clubs, the Attayans were also known for their fondness of partying. The service members of both worlds meshed perfectly there, with only an occasional drunken brawl that required the Shore Patrol to intervene.

  The ‘Wood, as its crew affectionately referred to it, eased into port, and saddled up to the pier with the help of the tug boats pushing it into place. The huge clamps locked onto the hull, followed by the lines being tossed down and secured. Shore power cables extended, fastened onto the ship’s grapples, and began

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  feeding electricity so that the ship’s generators could power down for maintenance checks. Lastly, the hull door slid open, and the giant ramp extended, locking into place to create a bridge to the pier.

  Sailors on board were on pins and needles, waiting for that beloved announcement to come that followed every underway. At last, just under an hour after docking, it came.

  “On the 1MC! Liberty call!”

  Cheers resounded throughout the ship, the only exception being those who happened to be in the duty section on watch for that 24 hour period. By order of rank, beginning with the officers, the crew began disembarking, dressed in their civilian clothes, eager to hit the town. While the parade of men and women poured off and away, forklifts were already bringing on fresh stores, and delivering crates full of mail that was catching up with the ship.

  Mark had taken the time to bid an early farewell to his father and older brother the evening before, so that he could get on with the last leg of his trip. He still had the task of getting the recruits down to the surface of the planet.

  For Minerva, it was time for the nervous flutters to begin again. Mark had told them to leave their old civilian clothing behind for disposal. The Corps would be providing all that they would need for the next nine weeks. She was running his advice through her mind as they were led from the Belleau Wood, and across the pier.

  At the far end of the docks, there was a sleek electric train parked at an elevated platform. The trams ran day and night all about the station, reducing the need for too many automobiles. The Attayans had focused their designs to include far more foliage, and open areas around the city. Even though New Tonip Station was larger, it was less populated. Aside from the docks, it was used primarily for vacationers from planet-side. Stays were limited to two weeks at a time.

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  There were off-duty sailors in line all the way from the platform, down the steps, and for a good distance along the main gate road. Mark led his troop past all of that, to another platform where the tram was running in the opposite direction. The other was for trams making the circuit through town, and out to the beach front. This one had a large sign with a timetable for runs to the spaceport.

  The doors to the passenger cars were open, and Mark motioned everyone to get in. Minerva made a point of saving the space next to her on the seat she landed in, and sure enough, the corporal found her. He sat down, and took her hand in his as the tram doors hissed shut, and it began to ease into motion. The train was silent, running along a mag-rail track, with powerful opposing magnets pushing it along. No one spoke, taking in the scenery, each anticipating what would be coming once
they got down to Attaya itself. The day of reckoning had arrived. Soon, the drill instructors would be set loose to plunder them, and it was a scary feeling. Even Minerva was at a loss for words. Mark tried to be reassuring, gently squeezing her hand. She gave him an appreciative look, and moved closer. In the start of her journey, she had been nearly drunk with the feeling of freedom, and being one step nearer to being an adult. Now, the reality of being on her own was sinking in. Her parents were literally light years away. She was responsible for herself now, for good or bad. The first twinges of homesickness threatened her.

  The tram arrived at the platform for the main concourse in under five minutes. There were rows of civilian airliners parked in rows at the boarding gates, and many military craft further down, where the Navy and Marine Corps were stationed. They were a smaller part of the larger Attayan Navy section, segregated to one end.

  Minerva had to let go of Mark’s hand at that point, as he got up, and moved toward the doors. He ushered the kids from the tram,

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  and into the concourse. Single file they went, walking all the way to the military wing, receiving curious stares from what civilian Attayans happened to be about. The attention drove the fact home to Minerva that at that point, it was she and her classmates that technically were the aliens. She was a Terran on Attayan ground, and the Attayans were as unaccustomed to seeing the bare-skinned youths as any Earther would be at seeing the Attayans.

  In the military section, Minerva noticed a large number of uniformed personnel, most of them furry. The majority were stationed there, and busy with daily tasks. Those who were travelling were easier to spot, being clad in the formal versions of uniforms, and sitting in the waiting areas, reading, sleeping, or staring at the flat screen TV’s.

  There was no wait for her group. Another Sea Stallion was idling just outside the boarding gate, waiting for their arrival. Out the door, down the ramp, and onto the shuttle-chopper. Minerva and the other kids remembered the drill, and sat down on the canvas bench, strapping themselves in.

  The corporal took his spot next to her, and once again, gripped her hand.

  “This one is going to be pretty damned scary,” he warned her. “The first drop is always the worst.”

  Minerva nodded, and tightened her grip on him, preparing herself.

  The crew chief for this chopper paid no mind at all to the kids. He closed the rear hatch, and went straight to the cockpit. Before long, they were lifting into the air, and cruising toward the dome terminator, nearing the dark expanse of space.

  Once beyond it, the view of Attaya Prime helped to ease some of the tension. They were on the daylight side, and it looked

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  every bit like Earth, with one exception. There was much more ocean. The land masses were clustered closer together, into one huge Pangea, framed by hundreds of islands.

  As they approached, the world grew ever larger, and the perception of speed increased steadily. Dropping in from above, the ground seemed in its proper place below them, and soon, there was no seeing the planet as a globe. Instead, it was impossible to see beyond the vast curve of the horizon. Still, looking down, the clouds seemed very far below them yet.

  The first hints of turbulence began, gently to begin with. A steady rattle, like going over a bumpy road. Then, the rattling increased along with the feeling of speed, becoming rougher, louder.

  Mark put an arm around Minerva, holding her tight, “Here it comes.”

  She closed her eyes, and it came.

  The craft plummeted. The shaking was beyond what any earthquake could compare to, the roar of the atmosphere competing with the shrill scream of the engines. And, the screams of the kids. Minerva was screaming herself, face buried into Mark’s chest. Surely, something was wrong, to be free-falling like that. To be on the verge of being torn apart. For the noise to be so all-encompassing. It went on for an eternity. Some could not hold out, and vomited, sending the stuff spiraling all over the place. A few kids wet themselves.

  The worst was the blonde girl that had joked with Minerva a few days before, back in the shower room. She panicked, and in her fright, unstrapped herself. Anything to try to escape that terror. The moment her harness was undone, the g-forces flung her toward the rear of the shuttle, arms flailing. Minerva and those who happened to have their eyes open at the time witnessed the girl collide with the

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  rear hatch, head-first. Her neck folded as her body continued on with its motion, and blood jetted from her mouth.

  The girl was pinned there, horrifically positioned, limbs at awkward angles, until the craft began to slow, and levelled off. She slid to the metal deck, and lay motionless. The corporal undid his own harness, and stumbled over to her, dropping to one knee in an attempt to steady his balance. He checked for a pulse, gingerly touched her throat. Her head lolled loosely.

  Shaking his head and cursing, Mark dragged her back to where she had been sitting, and strapped her back down before returning to his spot with Minerva.

  “Broke her neck!” Mark shouted to be heard over the din of the engines, which were beginning to settle down into a more helicopter-like rhythm.

  Minerva’s eyes went wide, “You mean she’s dead?”

  He nodded, “It happens once in a while. They panic.”

  She gawked at the girl’s body, slumped over itself, blood pooling down around the feet. The kids on either side were trying to lean in opposite directions. That, too, drove a point home to Minerva. What she was doing was no game. There was real danger here, and people could get killed. Her adventure was taking on some very eye-opening realities.

  The helo gradually slowed to a more reasonable-feeling speed, and descended steadily over a city that looked like any other from back home. Minerva had been expecting to see elegant structures with spires, and alien everything. It turned out the Attayans were not so different after all. They thought so much like people from Earth.

  Finally, they were over the airport, and spiraling down to a hover, to thump down on the tarmac. Mark got up as the engines

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  were cycling down, and went to the cockpit. He knocked, and showed the crew chief what had happened. Neither of them appeared overly surprised, but did seem to feel bad for the girl. It was a shame, but what could they do?

  The corporal then popped the rear hatch, and led the kids outside, toward the nearest gate. Back in, and told to sit in the lounge, to wait yet again. Shaking from the adrenaline, the kids were happy to do so. They were mostly silent, each absorbed in thoughts of their own about what had taken place, still trembling. Those that had soiled themselves set off for the restroom to wash up. A few of them were teary-eyed.

  Mark took Minerva’s hand, and pulled her off to one side to speak privately. His eyes were sympathetic.

  “This is where I have to leave you.”

  Her heart sank, “You’re not coming the rest of the way with us?”

  He shook his head no, “You guys will be taking a bus to Camp Madison pretty soon. I have a ride for Fort Dixon, out by the coast.”

  She felt a sadness settle over her chest, one that she had not expected. Minerva knew then that she really liked this guy.

  He held both of her hands in his, and offered a smile, “Look, we’ll see each other again in nine weeks, after you graduate. You’ll get sent over to Dixon, too.”

  She returned his smile, but couldn’t stop the tear that escaped one eye, and coursed down her cheek, “I know. First Battalion.”

  He wiped that tear with a thumb, and cupped her chin, looking into her eyes, “I’ll wait for you.”

  Not caring if anyone was looking, not giving a damn that she

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  was falling for a guy she’d met scarcely a few days before, Minerva threw herself into him, hugging him fiercely. He held her for several moments, cheek pressed against hers. When he spoke, it was softly into her ear.

  “You need to forget about me after I walk out of here,” he told her.
“Forget about home, about your parents, about everything you left behind. Focus on what you need to do to graduate. If you don’t, it’s all going to tear you up.”

  A sob, just one, jerked her as she held him, but she held the rest in.

  “I know. I will.”

  Mark pulled back, so that he could look at her. Those eyes were melting Minerva inside.

  “I have to go now.”

  She nodded, trying to smile.

  It happened so quickly, that she didn’t see it coming. He leaned in, and ever so softly kissed her mouth. It was fast, but gentle, like his voice. It lit a fire in her stomach, and her heart ached.

  “Look me up.” He repeated.

  Then he was walking away, not looking back. She watched him go through the exit, turn the corner, and then he was gone. That hurt more than leaving home had.

  Minerva put a hand over her mouth, not understanding the tears that were burning at her eyes, wetting her face. She hitched a few times, then remembered his words. She would see him again, but first things were first. Focus. Get through basic training. She took a breath, and wiped at her face, drying her tears.

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  Moving off to sit alone, Minerva found a spot near the floor-to-ceiling windows, and forced her mind to clear. The view outside helped to occupy her, stuff to look at. A busy tarmac. A busy city beyond the airport. Trees. Clouds in the sky. After a few minutes, her nerves were calmed, and she actually felt a little better.

  Other things began to filter in to her awareness, mainly the growing noise from the lounge. She turned away from the windows to look back, a bit surprised to find it fuller than when her group had first arrived. More kids were ambling in, chiefly Attayans, in numbers of ten or more at a time. She deducted that these were local recruits. Another thing that struck her was their mode of dress. It was apparently mid-summer here, judging both by the foliage, the heat she felt while stepping off the shuttle, and the clothing that the Attayan youth had on. The boys mostly wore shorts and t-shirts, tennis shoes with no socks. It was difficult not to stare at their furry extremities and faces.