Memory transcription subject: First Lieutenant James Holiday, United States Space Force

Date [standardized human time]: July 17th, 2136.

I stared at the wall of Team Four’s communal area with uncertainty weighing heavy on my mind. The last two days were almost a complete blur. Not only had the UN confirmed there was life among the stars, but that there were over two-hundred species.

In the hours following Colonel West breaking the news there had been controlled chaos. Thousands of pieces of briefing material had been disseminated and orders came down in a hailstorm for every unit and division- except for us. The only thing I could figure was we were put on the shelf due to our lack of a Captain.

Richard Tiller was seated immediately to my right, using a holopad to flip through the briefing materials displayed on the Team television. He was fully engrossed in the information before him and had been since we received it. It took Ransom threatening to shove him in a trash can the night before to get Tiller to quit talking about the stack of FTL ship blueprints he had been drooling over. Now, though, he was mesmerized by a slideshow of alien species.

“That thing looks like a sheep.” he blurted.

I snapped out of my contemplative trance and turned my attention to Tiller.

“What?”

“That thing.” he pointed at the television; a fluffy grey animal with a bushy tail and backwards jointed legs was displayed on the screen. A lengthy blurb about the species was written underneath the word “Venlil”, I supposed that must be what they were called.

“It says it’s a Venlil.” I mumbled.

Tiller stared at the screen for several seconds before responding, “Yeah. Looks like a fucked up sheep though.”

He moved on to the next slide before I could say anything else. A stocky brown creature covered in spines, supposedly called a Gojid, took over the screen. I flicked my eyes back over at Tiller and waited patiently for his assessment of this one.

“Hedgehog.” he stated confidently.

“What are you morons talking about?”

Ransom had just stepped out of the kitchen holding a protein shake in one hand. He squinted contemplatively at the TV screen, eyeing the Gojid. Tiller smiled and turned toward Ransom.

“Well, I’m reviewing the new briefing material and Lt. Holiday is on… holiday. Anyway, Sam, tell me that doesn’t look like a hedgehog.”

“Looks more like a porcupine to me. Aren’t hedgehogs supposed to be cute? That bastard looks like it would steal your garbage in the middle of the night.”

“Oh! Maybe there’s a possum in this species list somewhere.”

Forsaking his “careful” review of the materials, Tiller started flipping through the briefing, taking only enough time to look at the picture before moving on. What looked like a squirrel, an elephant, two different birds, and a purple squid flew by in a flash. Tiller scrolled past a giant lizard then stopped and went back.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself, “Look at that fella.”

A bipedal gray reptile was displayed beside the name “Arxur”. Sudden interest struck me and I leaned forward in my chair. This creature was different from everything before it in the presentation. An elongated mouth full of pointed teeth sat under a set of cold animalistic eyes with slit pupils. Its body was covered in scales and large plates ran down the ridge of its spine.

We had our fair share of alligators living so close to the water in Florida, but something about this creature gave me an uneasy feeling. I glanced at the species description and noted the word “HOSTILE” typed out in red letters under the species name. Did any of the other slides have that descriptor?

My curiosity was cut short by a message notification on my holopad. I snatched the device hastily, hoping some orders were finally coming down for us. Anything would be better than sitting here listening to Tiller impose his horrendous animal recognition skills on every species in the galaxy. Dread washed over me at the contents of the message, “Report to Colonel West’s office, ASAP.”

“Fuck.” I swore under my breath.

“Orders Lt?” asked Ransom between sips of his drink.

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“Something like that. I’ll be back.”

I stood from my chair and hastily made my way out of the bay. My mind raced with the possibilities. I had seen other units and commanders receive their orders and ship out directly without a need to meet with the Colonel. Worse so, most of them had received their orders in the two days prior, the delay coupled with the unusual request to meet with the Colonel made my heart beat in my throat.

The door to West’s office was closed and I delivered two sharp raps on the glass.

“Enter.” came the reply.

I swallowed hard, taking a deep breath to control my nerves. I opened the door and made a beeline for the space in front of the desk, snapping to a crisp position of attention and saluting respectfully.

Colonel West looked up from a file on his desk, “At ease, Lieutenant.”

My posture relaxed and I surveyed the Colonel’s hard expression for any clues to why I was here. He gave nothing away easily, and neither did the sprawling array of files and envelopes obscuring the surface of his desk. I waited with as much composure as I could put forward for whatever was about to happen to me. West looked back down at the file in front of him and I suddenly realized it was my personnel file.

“First Lieutenant James Holiday. Graduate of Stanford University with a Bachelor’s in Aerospace Sciences. Commissioned with the Space Force in 2133, assigned to Interstellar Response Team Four in 2134…”

West flipped a page and studied the contents for several seconds. He closed the file and looked back up at me, interlacing his fingers and leaning back in his chair.

“Quite the meteoric rise into one of the best units our Space Force can field.”

“Couldn’t have done it alone, sir. Captain Finch had quite a bit to do with that.”

“Of course. We all have someone to whom we attribute our successes. You seem to be making the most of the opportunity yourself. Your file is filled with glowing reports and high praise for your leadership skills and technical ability. The Team isn’t short on acknowledgements either. Fine marks in all training and exercises and a few real deal space rescues as well. By all accounts, Team Four is the best of the best, at least on paper.”

“Thank you, sir. If I may, I still don’t understand why you needed to see me.”

“All business with you, can’t even take a moment to hear of your own achievements. Very well, I called you in to discuss something with you, Holiday. The United Nations has made an appeal to every nation with a spacefaring military. They’re looking for skilled, discreet tactical teams; it seems they’re fairly certain we’re headed toward galactic war.”

A cold chill rippled down my spine. Just two days ago I had been terrified of the prospect of another Satellite War, but now that fear was renewed with vigor that all of humanity may be at war with our newfound aliens. I thought back on the few briefing slides Tiller had been absent mindedly perusing.

“War… with the Arxur?” I asked apprehensively.

“I see you’ve reviewed our briefing materials. There’s nothing concrete so far, but the species with whom we made first contact, the Venlil, seem adamant that this… Arxur… pose a threat to all sentient life in the galaxy. Additionally, they seem concerned that a galactic “Federation” is going to take exception to us for reasons that are still being deciphered. The UN is taking no chances at being caught unprepared. In short, Holiday, I’ve recommended you and IRT-4 for an immediate transfer to UN command and control.”

The revelation that our Team- my Team- had been the first choice for a galactic war filled me simultaneously with pride and apprehension. There had to be a mistake, surely Colonel West knew Captain Finch was injured in training and still hadn’t been discharged from intensive care. My feet shifted nervously under me and I tried to put on a somber expression.

“Respectfully, sir, Team Four is without a commander on account of Captain Finch’s condition. I fear I can’t accept this offer without his consideration.”

West’s expression softened. A gleam of concern shone in his eyes for a moment followed by a troubled realization.

“Nobody told you son? Ryan Finch was pronounced brain dead. His family has opted to discontinue life support. I’m sorry.”

I felt the color flush from my face. The man who led our Team to previously unknown heights, the man who taught me how to be an officer, was dead. Nausea welled up in my throat and I fought back the tears that threatened to run down my face in front of my commander.

A shaky breath rattled my chest as I tried to cope with the news, but I knew in my heart that Finch wanted nothing more than the type of opportunity the UN was offering. West stood up behind his desk.

“If you need time to think, I underst-”

“No.” I interjected, gathering up my emotions, “Colonel, I’d be honored to join the UN in this mission.”