by Rob Dearsley
He reached up, tracing a finger along her cheek, her skin felt soft and cool beneath his hand. The gentle scent of apples from her hair filled his nose and throat.
“Shauna, how long-?”
She pushed a finger to his lips. “Long enough.”
The sight, the scent, the press of her body against his was intoxicating. He cupped her cheek, pulling her face down to his. She tasted fresh, almost soapy, her lips soft but insistent.
Arland moved closer, her body moulding against his, compliant, firm, wonderful.
He broke away from the kiss, his lips aching to touch her again. “Arland?”
“Yes.” She smiled and pulled him down into another kiss, this time taking him completely under. The SDF, the Terrans, the whole universe fell away and for a time there was nothing but him and her, and the scent of apples.
◊◊
Arland looked across the Feynman’s bridge to where the large display screens showed the ship’s optical feed of the Nowhere Gateway. Its five metal arms were outlined by the flash of running lights. Trepidation mixed with excitement tripped Arland’s heart. It was similar to the wait before a mission, but larger, deeper somehow. This was a real jump into the unknown.
Dannage, Luc and Hale stood next to her. Dannage’s hands tensed around the railing. She bushed her fingers over his. She was here for him, now and always.
“Are we ready?” Niels asked, from where he and Jenna stood by the holo-table display. Jenna had a light-weight cast on her right arm and moved stiffly. She must have taken quite a beating while they’d been on Liberty Station.
Captain Rossini looked up from her flex. “The board is green our end. Valentine, gate status?”
The dark-haired Commander climbed the stairs to the upper level. “Gate control reports ready. We’re good to go.”
Rossini turned to Niels. “By your command, Admiral.”
“Go.”
Arland shared a glance with Dannage. They were actually doing this.
On the screen, callouts sprang up along the gateway’s arms. Graphs showed the rising power levels. The rising hum of power building might have been artificial, but it felt right. Her body thrummed in sympathy with the gateway.
The lights on the gate flashed faster, the hum building. Power crackled off the gate’s superstructure, flicking between the pylons.
Valentine shouted, “Power at ninety percent. Spooling up Point-to-Point Drive.”
One of the secondary screens came to life, showing the ship’s status feeds. Callouts sprang from the Feynman’s systems, flashing up green. All systems go.
“Graviton pool is forming. Drive at eighty percent.”
Space in front of the ship seemed to distort and twist around itself. The twinkling light of the stars became smears. The hum of the engines vibrated through the deck. The screens flickered, several system statuses flashing between green and amber. On the main view-screens, space twisted in and around on itself and for a moment Arland could see the Feynman resting in front of them, like looking in a mirror. She reached out, clasping Dannage’s hand, cool and clammy, in her own.
Rossini shouted over the buzzing of the engines, “Engage jump drive.”
Space fractured and broke apart around them. Arland felt like she was in half a dozen places at once. She still felt Dannage’s hand in hers, but she was looking at herself from behind, and in front, and the side. On the screens their view of Nowhere broke apart, spinning away into a bottomless emptiness. Beyond normal space, beyond the blue of the highways, beyond even time itself. They fell into the darkness before the first star, somewhere light couldn’t even exist. And she was nothing. Floating, lost, emptiness. Just her and the dark.
The dark stared back, and it was hungry.
You don’t belong!
The voice boomed through Arland like a vibration in every cell of her being.
Dannage’s hand tightened around hers. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t here. She’d been somewhere else. The darkness splintered, shards of the Feynman’s bridge falling back into place.
The cracking thud of a console blowing out snapped Arland back into herself. The deck pitched beneath her and Dannage lost his balance taking them both into a sprawled tangle of limbs.
“Report,” Niels yelled from behind and above them.
Another console blew out, followed by the warbling of an alarm. The deck whipped back the other way and the lights flickered and dulled.
“Jump drive is drawing too much power.” Valentine helped a junior officer back to his station.
Arland managed to scramble free of Dannage. More alarms screamed, and Arland’s vision broke apart again.
“Stars, what’s happening’?” Luc asked clinging to the railing for dear life.
Niels pulled himself up on the now dark holo-table. “Can we abort?”
No. Arland could still feel the presence, they were too deep. It would kill them. They had to get back out of this, this space before space – the words came unbidden to her head.
“We’re too far gone.” Valentine caught Jenna as the deck whipped around beneath them again. “It’s all or nothing.”
For a moment Arland was back in the darkness.
Mine.
The words flowed into her, through her.
Intruders.
Something moved. Flickers, indistinct, in the corner of her eye. She couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t focus on anything. She saw herself push up against the curved wall of the bridge, Dannage beside her still sat against the wall or the floor, stunned.
The whole bridge seemed to tumble upside down. Darkness seeping in through the cracks, breaking the bridge apart.
The lights went out, Arland was alone in the dark, and not alone. This was why humans feared the dark. But she didn’t, at least not until now.
“Stars damn-it,” Dannage cursed, reaching out for her.
“Get me lights,” Valentine ordered.
Low-level lights flickered, bringing the bridge into an artificial twilight.
“Everyone good?” Captain Rossini looked around, appearing monochrome and very far away in the half-light.
This was all mine once.
Arland cast about, searching for the source of the voice, but it came from all around them, echoing across the walls, and through her own mind.
I was first. I am eternal.
More consoles blew out and the gravity shifted again, sending them tumbling, Arland landed hard against the railing around the watch pit, jarring her arm. Pain shot through her right side. She wound up on her back, trying to breathe past the hitch in her chest. Damn broken ribs.
Arland fractured again.
Do you even know from whence you came?
Interlude Three
(Terra Prime, 50,000 years ago)
Ilook up at the towering space elevator, a golden ribbon glittering in the morning sunlight. The cart rises into the dawn sky, shooting up to the very edge of space and leaving me here, alone and surrounded by strangers. It’s the first time I’ve been on the capital world. I grew up on one of the outer colonies, and my first stage selection was on the light cruiser TIN Tyr.
Selection for the Imperial Navy pushed us to the limit, both physically and mentally. There were times when I thought the rounds of push-ups, sit-ups and sprint tests would never end. By the end of the day it was all I could do to haul my aching body into the hard cot. But each morning, I dragged myself out of bed and endured. After a while, you learned to ‘not think’ and just focus on the moment.
Now I’m here, on Prime, ready to start my training proper, I’m so sure. Butterflies squall in my stomach. Maybe I should have stayed home, worked the land and taken over from my parents like I knew they wanted. Of course, they supported my decision to join the Navy. But I was their only child and they supported me regardless. Still, I could sense their reticence, their worry.
I’d argued that we were at peace now, the military was as safe as any other career. In the back of my head, I knew that
was a lie.
There was something on the horizon. I’ve heard the stories. We’ve all heard the stories, more and more ships being built, larger, more powerful ships. Even autonomous ships. It all started a year or so ago, around my seventeenth birthday. They’d found something out there in the dark, and it scared the crap out of them.
“Recruit Hale, hustle.” The snap of the training instructor pulls me from my thoughts and I turn away from the space elevator.
In front of me, the Defence Force HQ building looms, almost as grand and imposing as the space elevator. Wide steps lead up to a high arched entrance. Guards in pristine uniforms flank the archway. Large guns slung across their chests against the gleaming ceramic of their armour plate. They look almost regal. Everything on Prime is so grandiose, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It’s amazing.
A squad of marines jog past. Most of them nearly two-and-a-half meters tall, wide shoulders stretching the fabric of their shirts, their sheer size and physicality is imposing, almost scary. I shy away from the hulking men.
“Where are you from?” asks a dark-haired boy with a thin face and hawkish nose. I’ve seen him a couple of times during selection, but we’ve never had the chance to talk. There hasn’t been much time for anything other than what we’re ordered to do.
“CTX74205-Alpha,” I reply. More than a little self-conscious.
“You’re a farm girl? No wonder you aced the physical, all that chasing around after cattle.” He gives me a wide friendly smile. His response and the joviality of it is so unexpected I can’t help but laugh. And, for the first time since I started basic, I relax. I might actually make it through this and out the other side.
He juggles his bags, so he can extend his hand in greeting. “I’m Jim.”
“Hannah,” I reply taking the offered hand. It’s soft and smooth. Jim’s not a worker. “What about you?”
“Me? I grew up at Doxin station, my parents are stationed there. Military runs in the family, they’d have been disappointed if I didn’t join up.”
“I’m not going to tell you again,” the training officer yells at us from about four meters away. “Move it!”
I’d seen it in all the movies. Trainees being sandblasted by their instructors, but I’d always assumed it was overblown or dramatized. It turns out I was wrong.
We share a glance before we hurry up the steps and through the archway into the facility’s foyer. I have a new friend. Which is good, as I think I’m going to need all the friends I can make to get through basic training.
Inside, the foyer is abuzz with activity. Uniformed people rushing back and forth, shouting orders. A reception desk bisects the room, crowds of civilians pressing against it as four, harried looking clerks try to deal with the crushing mass.
A brass barrier separates the snaking line of recruits from the civilians. It would be nothing to jump over, but its symbolism is obvious. We’re not like them anymore. There might not be much difference right now, but it won’t take long. We’re military.
Jim and I join the shrinking line of recruits. I hop up, trying to see past the sea of backs to find out what we’re, waiting for. I’d assumed we’d be taken straight through to the training barracks.
Jim chuckles. “Can’t see?”
I jab him in the ribs hard enough to wind him. “You calling me short?”
He smiles at me. “Well, you are.”
I’m only a little under two meters, so yes, I’m on the short side. But Jim doesn’t look much taller than me. “Can you see then?” The challenge in my voice is unmistakable.
He straightens up, pushing his shoulders back and gains a good ten centimetres. Damn. “I’m taller than I appear.” He grins. “Looks like paperwork.”
More paperwork. Brilliant. If the TIN had their way, we’d be drowning in the stuff. I could imagine moons, or even whole planets, given over to admin centres.
The armoured guards usher us forward. Their helmet visors cover their faces, removing that last vestige of humanity. They’re weapons, pure and simple. Is that how we’ll end up, just gears in the machine of war? My butterflies return.
Finally, we reach the desk.
“Please complete biometric registration,” says a bored looking officer as he hands me a data-flex. I read the disclaimer sign and use the built-in interface to scan my fingerprints and retina.
The officer retrieves the flex and hands me a small plastic card. “This is your training ID. It contains your medical information and access rights, keep it on you at all times.”
And with that, we’re whisked off to our new lives.
◊◊
We mill around the spartan barracks, everyone looking for their nametags on the whitewashed walls. The only colour is an orange line bisecting the room. The space is broken up into booths of six beds, each with a small washroom. I share with five other girls. Most of them still have the same wide-eyed awe that must match my own. We stuff our bags into the bottom compartment of the lockers.
Out of curiosity, I check the rest of the locker. Ranks of uniforms hang from rails. Beneath them, neatly folded stacks of socks and underwear. I check the labels, all my size. It feels kind-of invasive that they already know this much about me.
“Right, you kids,” the instructor’s voice booms through the room, no need for a tannoy system it would seem. “Get into your training gear – Plain grey tops and trousers – and fall in on the centre-line.”
We all rush to change into our new clothes. It’s more comfortable than I would have expected for a military uniform. We all cast nervous glances during the mad scramble. Making sure we’re pulling on the same uniform as the others.
The main open space of the dorm is big enough to fit us all in. We’re a rag-tag group, but there’s something unifying about seeing us all dressed the same. It’s the start us becoming something more, a part of something greater than ourselves.
“You okay?” Jim asks as we file from the room.
“Fine,” I whisper back.
“Quiet,” the Commander roars without looking around.
We lapse into silence for the remainder of the short walk.
◊◊
“This is kind of uncomfortable,” Sam, one of my bunkmates, says.
I nod, focusing on maintaining eye contact with the burly instructor who is showing us how to shower.
“-and now you rinse off. Again, from the top down.” He demonstrates rinsing the soap from his head and shoulders. I decline to let my gaze drift any further down. “You’ll need these skills when we’ve finished with you.”
The same instructor – thankfully now clothed – takes us through, uniform maintenance, making a bed, and shaving. I know it’s called ‘basic’, but I’m taken aback by how basic this really is.
After he’s done, we file out and onto the training grounds and the rest of the day becomes endless press-ups, sit-ups, followed with a ten-mile run. Later, so tired we can hardly walk we fall into our beds.
I can hardly keep my eyes open as I lie there in total darkness. Was my first day in the military all that I’d expected? Yes. The answer surprised me. I might be more tired than I’ve felt in my whole life, but it’s a good tired. I feel like I’ve accomplished something.
Looking around, I can just about make out the outlines of my bunkmates. The steady rise and fall of their breathing is almost in sync. After a moment, I find my own breathing lining up with theirs. For a moment we’re perfectly in sync. Then Sam rolls over murmuring in her sleep, and the moment passes.
Light glares into my eyes, jarring me awake. A siren wails through the room. Are we under attack? I’m up and out of the bed in a flash, pulling my training gear on.
The instructor marches through the room barking orders and we ‘fall in’ in the middle of the room. Sam stands to my right. I glance over and see Jim in the front row at rigid attention.
The day plays out much the same as the previous one, an endless liturgy of exercise and training drills that leaves us tir
ed. Then comes the obstacle course.
I pull my aching body through the mud beneath the electrified wire mesh that sends spikes of pain through me every time I touch it. Beside me Sam swears, another shock slamming through her body. I keep my head down and push forward. Eventually, we reach the end. Climbing back to our feet in front of a climbing net. This would be easy if weren’t already knackered.
The instructors yell from the side-lines, their insults all blending into a cacophonous white noise. Sam and I start the climb. My numbed, mud-slicked hands slip on the netting and I fall back with a cry of alarm.
Sam’s hand clamps around my wrist, pulling me back onto the netting. She’s surprisingly strong for her size. We get to the top together.
One of the instructors grabs me, his hands brusque and rough as he pulls me into a harness and clips me onto a rope.
On the instructor’s command, we jump.
◊◊
It’s the end of week one and Sam, Jim and I share a table in the mess hall. Jim has a nasty burn on his right hand, from a fast-line descent. Both Sam and I have our own scars, mostly small burns from the electric grid on the assault course.
“I’m not sure I can make it,” Jim says without looking up from his food.
“You’re doing fine.” Sam claps him on the shoulder. “You’re not anywhere near the bottom.”
She’s right, two of the girls from our sleeping booth have already been dropped.
“Besides,” I add around a mouth full of something so bland I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be. “You bring much-needed gender diversity to our group.” He knows it’s a joke, that I value his friendship. “But seriously, don’t give up. You’re doing fine.”
“I won’t VW, but it doesn’t mean I won’t get pushed.”
“We’ll stand by you,” Sam says and the three of us share a smile as we walk over and dump our empty food trays into the recycler. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
