Voss tried to guess how long it had been since they departed. The flight had been uncannily smooth for a while now. No course corrections or twists as the Minoutar glided through the void of space. If it hadn’t been for the hot, damp air, the putrid smell and overcrowded conditions, one might have almost called their flight comfortable. Hiyo and him had somehow managed to keep the conversation flowing between themselves. No small feat considering there were a lot of topics they couldn’t talk about. Many of the men had fallen silent along the way. They had discovered they didn’t have much to talk about when they couldn’t talk about themselves. Voss couldn't help but wonder why the Fifth forbade them from speaking about their past. It couldn't be that bad, could it? The more he had gotten to know his fellow recruits, the more he had begun to question whether these were really some of the worst the slums had to offer. Perhaps they were all just like him? Political prisoners and poor sobs who where at the wrong place at the wrong time.
A red overhead light started flashing. Within seconds the Minoutar’s thrusters went reverse full throttle. Everyone got lobbed forward, slamming into Hiyo and Voss. The combination of the pressure and the stench made breathing a challenge. Voss remembered Hiyo's warning after lift off. He had been prophetic. This was way worse than getting crushed at lift off. Back then the men weren't as sweaty and filthy at least. The Minoutar jerked into several directions, even spinning in circles. The recruits began to slosh around in the ship’s hull as if caught in a washing machine. The absolute silence outside of the Minoutar was uncanny. Voss couldn't hear the thrusters at work. The only notifier of their existence were the vibrations they caused to the ships hull. Vibrations that were easily missed amongst the grander violence of sudden turns and men smashing into each other.
Voss lost every sense of direction. Several knees, elbows and faces thumped into him at various points in time. He was pretty sure he had unwillingly returned the favor in more than one occasion. It couldn’t be helped. They were like kites in a drunken storm caused by the most incompetent pilot known to the Western galaxsphere. Voss had never piloted anything before in his life, not even in an arcade simulator, but he was pretty sure he could have done a better job at flying this old rustbucket than whatever incompetent dunce they had put behind the wheel.
‘Nobody ever told me there was turbulence in space.’ one recruit cried out.
‘There isn’t, you idiot. The pilot is doing this on purpose.’ someone else replied.
An interesting possibility that Voss hadn't had a chance to explore himself yet due to having someone's sweaty stomach pressed into his face after he had toppled over during one of the maneuvers. By now most recruits had fallen over each other into a big messy pile with heads and limbs sticking out of it.
Then, without warning, it stopped. The pilot was finished with his silly maneuvers and the ship was stable again. A thump sounded as they bumped into something.
‘Get ready lads, we’ve docked in. Don’t let these dogs catch you off guard. Who knows what they’re up to.’. Voss recognized Dane’s voice. Dane was the nestor of the group. Voss had no idea how old he was exactly, but he guessed at least 80. Dane was an impressive man. Built like a brick house with a natural authority that not even the sergeant had cared to question during his lectures.
The Minoutar’s doors slammed open without warning, causing half the recruits to flush out as if someone had opened a shaken bottle of soda. They all grasped for air. Sweat running from their brows. Most of the men felt sick. Some stayed down on the metal grated floors after spilling out of the Minoutar. Others got up just to fling their heads over the balustrade so they could throw up into the invisible depths of the cargo docks down below. They had arrived in the upper echelons of a gigantic, poorly lit cargo bay whose floor and walls were so far away that they were shrouded in darkness.
There was a welcome committee awaiting them, but they were barely noticed by the recruits who were only interested in getting the hell out of that horrible Minoutar. Several more joined their fellow recruits on the steel grated floor. Others joined those at the balustrade who were defiling the unseen deep depths below.
With most men out, Voss was finally able to get up. He was the last to exit the wretched confines of the Minoutar’s hull. Several men barred his way out, forcing him to stay standing on the Minoutar’s ramp. He tried to assess where they were. It seemed like they had docked into the upper bridge of one of the titanic cargo bays of the Saltpetersburg Spaceport. A colossal, wheel shaped satellite with a diameter of over 300 kilometers. A huge hub of interplanetal trade that hovered at around 40.000 kilometers above Saltpetersburg. A station so massive, it could be seen from Saltpetersburg by the naked eye during both day and night.
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Voss would have scanned his surroundings more but the effects of the tumultuous flight caught up with him. He’d have joined his brethren at the balustrade, but the path leading there was barred by his fellow recruits. Thus he was forced to stay where he was and keep everything in. Part of him wanted to let go right there, but he noticed just in time that there were several guardsmen, dressed in grey uniforms, in the welcome committee that were observing the recruits just a little too keenly. The replying recruit had been right. This was a test. They were being tested on thier ability to withstand turbulence. He took a deep breath. It took all his willpower, but he managed to stay upright and keep everything inside.
His instincts had saved him. Mere seconds after he’d appeared onto the open, the guardsmen started to separate those still standing from those who were lying down or clasping onto the balustrade. The recruits had been oblivious to what was going on. None of them had realized except Dane and perhaps one or two other recruits. Dane was standing upright, looking unperturbed. Next to Dane stood Hiyo who looked similarly stoic. They stood out in between the unfortunate recruits who weren't in such a fine state. Voss stepped forward to join them. Perception was everything here and he needed to look like he was part of those who had managed to come out of the Minoutar unscaved.
Two guardsmen came and herded their little group of standing men into the direction of the welcome committee. He could now see that it consisted of not just guardsmen, but also a cleaning crew, and about twenty, impertinent men and women dressed in civilian clothes. Probably citizens impatiently waiting for the motley recruits to be escorted away, and the mess to be cleaned, so they could ferry back home.
The recruits were now shifted. Voss and those left standing were escorted away along the elevated pathway. Their boots clang ominously on the steel grated floors. Voss noticed spots of rust and small tears in some of the floorplates. Maintenance had been subpar out here for a long time it seemed.
He took one last look back past his shoulder and saw the guardsmen were poking the sick recruits with the butts of their rifles. Urging them to get up before pushing them off into a different direction. Behind them he could see the cleaning crew was hard at work with high pressure hoses to rapidly clean the Minoutar. The walls of the ship’s hull were moving. Voss realized he was wrong about the chairs. They hadn’t been stripped from the Minoutar, they were retractable. A fact his picture book had neglected to share.
He realized he had been lucky to be at the front of that cursed ship. If he had been at the back he’d probably have been among those unfortunate souls that were now being picked off of the floor and whisked off to who knows where. No time to ponder over hypotheticals though. He had to stay focused. The guardsmen were still observing him as they were driving the recruits forward at record pace. Who knew what other trials lay ahead of them? Voss hated to think of what would happen if he were to fail any of them.
The pressure with which they were driven forward proved to be too much for two more recruits. They both stumbled somewhere along the way and were too sick to get back up. They were left behind with guards to ensure they wouldn’t escape from the miserable clutches of the Fifth. Voss came pretty close to stumbling himself a couple of times. Somehow he managed to pull through despite feeling worse than he ever had. He wasn’t about to give up though, no matter what. His life hung in the balance.
Whether it was due to his grit or sheer fortune he didn't know, but Voss was still standing when they made it to a windowless, steel barrack. Cheap metal bunkbeds lined up on both sides of the aisle. There were no mattresses or sheets on them, just coiled bed frames. ‘Is everything in this forsaken spaceport made out of steel?’ he thought to himself. He scanned the room but found nothing that remotely resembled luxury or comfort. He felt a twisted sense of nostalgia for life at the recruit station on Fosfat. At least there he had a proper bed and some privacy.
One guardsman yelled at them to pick up a rucksack and a box. Another guardsman ordered the recruits to go find a free bunkbed. Voss was one of the last to find a free bed. When the musical beds dance had ended, one man was left without a bed. It turned out that there were only sixteen beds for seventeen recruits. Leaving one recruit, a short, balding man with a rather large nose, without a bed.
‘Don’t worry about that’ one of the guardsmen snickered. ‘We’ll make sure there’s a spot for every one of you maggots before nightfall. Not that you’ll be getting much sleep anyhow.’. Several of his fellow guardsmen laughed at his remarks. The laughter came to an abrupt end when someone yelled at them to fall in line for the captain. The guardsmen hastened to formed an orderly line. There seemed to be a fear in the speed with which they did so. The recruits attempted to emulate them by forming their own line. Every man standing in attention on the left side of the room. Voss looked over at the entrance but, as he was at the far end of the barracks, he couldn't really see past his fellow recruits. He couldn't see the captain's face, but he did see his black uniform. Another officer of the Fifth...