---Oskar’s perspective---

---Sunday, 19th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar---

---Southern England---

Sands was wrong…

‘Physical’ and ‘training’ are currently my third and second least favourite words in the English language!

My least favourite word is ‘endurance’!

The fact that I’m faring so much better than my fellow draftees is cold comfort when, every time she sees me doing a little too well for myself, she loops me to the back of the company and makes me run to the front again!

Forest was showing off, for the first 5km or so but, being a half Neanderthal, his endurance is lower than most of the rest of us… even if hybrid vigour brings him closer to us than he is Cliff and Branch (the two full Neanderthals in the group).

As I lap him for the hundredth time I wonder if he’ll remember how sweaty and exhausted he is and pace himself next time.

I doubt it.

“You at the back! Don’t fall behind! I’d prefer not to have to explain you were picked off by a pack of cave lions when I get back to base!” shouts Sands, not a drop of sweat visible on her.

I know better than to look at who she’s admonishing. I’d be next if I did.

As I pass Reid, the skinny, pale Scot with her hair like fire and eyes an emerald sheen, she glares up at me.

She’s not alone in making known her resentment of how much better suited to this I seem than most… but she is alone in the intensity of her displeasure!

Even Forest doesn’t have the energy to spare on shooting me deathglares anymore but, it doesn’t seem to matter how tired she looks, she always seems to have just enough to spare me a scowl.

Did I do something to offend her? I can’t think what… but that seems like the only explanation!

I pretend not to notice the glare as I overtake her.

---Tuesday, 21st of November, 2682 Terran Calendar---

“And who can tell me what this species is called?” says the Lecturer, bringing up a holograph of a 3m tall xeno that looks like the head, forelimbs and torso of a shaved lesser anteater, on top of twelve long, rigid tentacles.

Mine is the only hand that goes up.

“Pvt Taylor, please…”

“They’re called the Thlinac, Sir.”

“Very good… and are the Thlinac generally considered a threat to Humans on the battlefield?”

“Not generally, Sir, no… However, they do have a venomous barb on the backs of two of their tentacles. Being stung is usually no more than an annoyance but can induce anaphylaxis in those who have an allergy to shellfish, Sir.”

“Top marks, Taylor!” beams the xenobiology lecturer.

The praise earns me another scowl from Reid.

“Yes, as Taylor says, the Thlinac can induce anaphylactic shock in Humans with seafood allergies but, other than that, are considered to be no great threat to us in terms of their bodily capabilities. So far there are only a handful of species known to pose any credible threat to Terrans without relying on technology to do so. Can anyone name any such species?”

My hand is, again, the only one in the air.

---Friday, 24th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar---

“Pvt Taylor, report!” shouts Sands.

I run to where she stands, next to Reid and a very poorly taken apart rifle.

“Reporting as ordered, Ma’am.” I say, looking straight ahead and pretending I don’t see Reid sneering up at me.

“Reid seems to be having a little trouble stripping her gun… show her how it’s done.” orders Sands, already walking away.

“Yes, Ma’am.” I say, turning to sit with the girl who hates my guts for some reason.

“Err… so… this part shouldn’t be like that… you need to unscrew this part first…” I explain, acting like I think she’s listening to me at all and that I haven’t even noticed her glower.

I’m tempted to take one of my leave days, just to get away from this girl’s hateful glaring for a bit!

---Sunday, 26th of November, 2682 Terran Calendar---

A shovelfull of dirt hits me in the chest.

I look up to see Reid standing with her back to me, in the direction it came from.

I stare at her for a few seconds to see if she’ll acknowledge it… I could have believed it was an accident except for a) who it is and b) the way she’s now scrupulously ignoring me.

I sigh and resume digging the obstacle ditch.

It could easily be done by machine, of course, but building it ourselves is also part of the training… I can’t look like I’m slacking off.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Not thirty seconds pass before I’m showered with another shovelfull of frozen muck.

Angry now, I shout “Would you please watch where you’re throwing that dirt!”

The only answer I get is more dirt thrown at me.

“Hey!”

More dirt.

“HEY!!!”

I begin walking towards her but…

“What’s goin’ on here?!” comes Sands’ voice as she appears to my right.

“Pvt Reid seems to have some sort of grievance with me, Ma’am.” I say, gesturing to my dirtied fatigues, stonily.

She looks at me and then to Reid who still has her back turned “Pvt Reid! You got a problem with Pvt Taylor here?”

Reid turns around, clearly working hard to contain her mirth as she says “A problem? No, Ma’am! I was just so enthusiastic about the work that I got in the zone and it looks like Taylor caught some strays… I won’t let it happen again, Ma’am.”

Sands looks as unconvinced as I feel, turning to me and asks “Who is your current trainin’ partner, Private?”

“Private Locke, Ma’am.” I answer, not liking where this is going.

“And where are you and Locke slated to go for your first survival excursion, Private?”

“Interior Sahul, Ma’am…”

She turns to Reid “Who is your current trainin’ partner and where are you scheduled to go with them, Private?”

“Private Everard, Ma’am. The Amazon basin.” answers the redhead.

“Pvt Locke, Pvt Everard, report!” shouts the mauve eyed woman.

My partner, James Locke, and a curly haired blonde with brown eyes that I guess to be Pvt Everard appear.

“Effective immediately, you four are switchin’ partners… Pvts Locke and Everard together, Pvts Taylor and Reid together…”

“But Ma’am…!” objects Reid as my stomach sinks.

“Yes Private?… Got somethin’ to say?” growls Sands in a way that makes quite clear how likely she is to reverse herself.

“…N…nothing… Ma’am…”

“Good!… Startin’ now, you and your new partners are gonna do everythin’ together except sleep… You will train together, take watches together and I expect to see you sat together at meals… you are gonna be around eachother from dawn to dusk until you’ve gotten over this petty rivalry, Privates! Am I clear!?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” respond Reid and I in unison.

“Pvt Locke, you’ll be goin’ to the Amazon with Pvt Everard… Pvts Taylor and Reid, you’ll be goin’ to Australia…”

---Esme’s perspective---

“Well… that was some display you put on earlier, Esme!” says Saba, stripping off her headscarf as the five of us cross back into room 1512.

“Yeah, what were you playing at, girl?!” giggles Charlotte, sitting down on Kimberley’s bottom bunk bed, facing her own, below mine.

“Like I said, Taylor just caught a few strays… Seems he’s not the perfect soldier he acts like if he took it so personal!”

“You’re fooling no one!” chuckles Kimberley, sitting down next to Charlotte “I saw you throw the dirt at him, that was not an accident!”

“I think Esme might have a little cruuush…(!)” teases Saba as she sits down beside me on Charlotte’s bunk.

Christina (the groups resident kuudere) sits down on her other side, the only one not grinning.

“I do NOT have a crush on that twat!” I say, disgusted.

“Really?” smirks Kimberley “You told us you liked muscly guys… Taylor certainly fits the bill!”

“I told you that as the first part of a sentence explaining that personality is also a key component in my attraction to a guy!” I say exasperatedly “A solid gold 10 like Forest can rocket himself back down to an untouchable 0 with a vile personality!”

“You think Taylor has a vile personality?” asks Saba, sceptically “He doesn’t really seem to have any personality at all to me!… I think today was the first time I’ve seen him express an emotion or say anything that wasn’t a simple statement of fact!”

“Oh… just the swatty little, holier than thou act! Gets under my skin!… Shows up here before he’s even been conscripted, gets a room to himself, tallest and second muscliest in the regiment, does everything perfectly, first try, all while maintaining this social distance between himself and everyone else like he thinks he’s too good for us!” I say, leaving out the offputtingness of his prim and proper speech given that I’m the only one in the room who doesn’t speak the same way!

“Oh you definitely have a crush, girl!” smirks Charlotte.

“I. do. not!” I insist, truthfully.

Play acting as me and doing a not bad Scottish accent (though definitely Edinburger and not Galloway) she affects a starry eyed demeanour to say “Och… he’s just sooo handsome and perrfect, that mysterious Doggerrlanderr! I need to hate him or I’ll fall heed over heels ferr him!”

I role my eyes.

“If you do hate him, Esme… antagonising him to the point where he blew up at you is about the worst thing you could have done…” observes Kimberley “…Now, you’re going to be stuck with him 24/7!”

I gesture around to the Taylorless room “12/7, thank you very much! He’s not allowed in here, is he!”

“Still, if you had just ignored him you would have been far less exposed to him than you are going to be now…” says Christina, her tone flatter than a pancake.

“Yeah… you’re right… never good at thinking things through.”

“You’re going to be stuck out in the arid part of Australia with him for 5 days over New Year!” smirks Charlotte “Just you and him… alone… Anything could happen!”

“He tries shit and I’ll press the emergency recall beacon so fast it’ll make his head spin!” I assert.

“He really doesn’t seem the type to ‘try shit’… I think he might be ace.” muses Saba.

“Oh he just would be, wouldn’t he!” I sneer before doing a deep, robotic voice “Sex is a mere distraction from my true goal of serving my planet and becoming the perfect soldier. Titties are ephemeral, the Glory of Terra lives eternal.”

This elicits giggles from the other four followed by a short lull in the conversation.

“I think I might try and work my wiles on Locke, when we’re in the Amazon together… He’s just my type… as far as boys go at least… cute face… good manners… slim but not too slim…” muses Charlotte.

Kimberley, on the bed next to her, looks wounded.

Her crush on the girl she’s sat next to is obvious to everyone except, seemingly, Charlotte herself!

Charlotte looks around, confused, and says “Why’s it gone so quiet? Have I said something wrong? I was just…”

“It’s gone quiet because Kimberley likes you, Charlotte. You’re upsetting her by talking about being attracted to Locke…” states Christina, her tone blunt and factual.

Me and Saba silently look at the skinny gothgirl sitting to our right, our mouths agape.

Kimberly blushes so hard that it clearly shows even through the dark skin of her chubby cheeks and begins a flustered stammer as Charlotte looks at her disbelievingly.

“Is that true, Kim?!” asks the blonde, incredulously.

“I… err… it’s… uhm…” stammers Kimberley.

“Wait!” interrupts Saba before looking to me and Christina, picking her scarf up and wrapping it back around her head “…we should go back down to the Mess… I hear they’re playing Inglorious Basterds tonight! It should be fun!”

“Yeah, sounds good.” I lie.

We bundle Christina along with us as we leave the room to give them some privacy.

The moment we are in the hall, I give her a smack to the back of her head.

“Ow.” she says, emotionlessly.

“The hell were you thinking!?” I demand.

“I was thinking that Kimberley either needed to act or give up on Charlotte.” she answers, like a semitrue AI attempting to comprehend Human emotions “She wasn’t acting… so I precipitated things.”

“You don’t just air out people’s dirty laundry like that! What if Charlotte doesn’t reciprocate?! Things’ll get real fucking awkward, won’t they!?”

“OK, OK… It’s out of our hands now… let’s just go and enjoy the movie, shall we?” mediates Saba.

Grumpily, I allow her to shepherd us down the corridor.