---Simone’s perspective---
---Thursday, 4th of January, 2683 Terran Calendar---
---Southern England---
“So… let me get this straight…” I say, frowning at the pair before me “…Within an hour of landin’, you…” I point at the tall, dark haired boy “…were bitten by a king brown snake and were laid up for the next two days, unable to contribute more than advice to Reid while she did all the heavy liftin’… You weren’t able to call an evac because, between the two of you, you’d managed to leave the beacon you should have had here in Graffham… and you think I should pass you for that, do you Privates?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” answers the redhead.
“Why should I pass you for that, Reid?”
“We fulfilled the terms of the assignment: We survived the full five days in the environment we were dropped in using only the allowed equipment and without calling for an emergency evac, Ma’am.” answers the Scot, straight faced, somehow.
“You admit that you would have called an evac if you could have, Private?”
“Yes, Ma’am… but we couldn’t so we didn’t.”
“You admit that it was your own shared stupidity that meant that you didn’t have a beacon with you when you went, Privates?” I ask, drily.
“I… don’t believe lack of stupidity was a requirement of the test, Ma’am.” answers Reid, cheekily.
“Guess again, Private! Lack of stupidity is always a requirement in the Military! Stupid Soldiers are dead Soldiers!” I correct, sternly.
“My mistake, Ma’am.” apologises Reid, hastily.
My anger subsides as I say “Buuut… as you say… you did make it out alive… you didn’t call an evac, even if only as a result of bein’ stranded by stupidity… and…” I take a sniff and then chuckle “…it certainly smells like you two are gettin’ along better than you were when you left…(!)”
“I’m… not sure what…?” starts Reid but I cut her off.
“Don’t play dumb, Private!… You’ve tried to wash it off but I’m half Tshwane… you can’t fool this nose!”
The pair shift uncomfortably before I reassure them “Relax! You’re not breakin’ any rules… So long as this relationship doesn’t negatively affect either of your performances, we have no issue… I also trust this means you two won’t be at eachother’s throats so much… At least, in public… don’t really much care what you’re into doin’ in the privacy of a bedroom… or a cave, as the case may be(!)”
“I think it’s safe to say our rivalry is a thing of the past, Ma’am.” provides Taylor.
“Or shifted onto much friendlier terms, at least…” smirks Reid.
“Good…” I turn to Taylor “…Taylor, now you’ve reached the age of majority, you’re eligible to be moved to a bunk in a shared room…”
His face falls, clearly having hoped I’d forget about that.
“…but…” I continue, causing him to perk back up “…I’m a busy woman and assignin’ you one is able to remain low on my list of priorities… so long as you (or Reid) aren’t givin’ me the impression that you might benefit from more rest, that is!… Do we understand eachother, Taylor?”
The boy gives me a rare smile and answers “We understand eachother perfectly, Ma’am.”
“Good!… You are dismissed, Privates.”
The two of them turn to go.
“Oh, and, Privates?”
They both turn to look at me, expectantly.
“Happy New Year…”
---Esme’s perspective---
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
---Friday, 5th of January, 2683 Terran Calendar---
“I can’t believe you’ve been sleeping in a conjugal room this whole time!” I grin at the handsome man, currently acting as my mattress in the broomcupboard sized space.
“Technically, it wasn’t a conjugal room… it was designated as a private room for me, since I was a minor…” he smiles without opening his eyes.
“Oh, aye(!) Let’s protect the wee baby boy from any indecency by putting him in the rooms where he’ll be able to hear all the sex through the paper thin walls, every night(!) I see no issue here(!)”
He shakes his head “It wasn’t that bad…”
“Oh it wasn’t, was it(?)… You nasty little perv(!)” I smirk, mischievously.
“Most of the time… people are some combination of embarrassed and considerate enough to keep the noise down… It’s rare that I would have out and out screamers next door… That’s all I meant…”
“Attention all:…” comes Sands’ voice, making the morning wake up call over the PA “…It is now 0630hrs… Time to wake up!… After breakfast, you are to assemble in the yard. Father Christmas came by last night to drop off some late presents for all of you(!)”
---Oskar’s perspective---
I find the crate that has my name on, shaped (ghoulishly) somewhat like one of the wooden boxes that Christians bury their dead in.
I pick it up and carry it aside… it’s heavy!
Looking around for someone who’s done using one of the crowbars that are being passed around, I make eyecontact with Milligan.
He raises the length of metal he holds, proffering it to me.
I take it, appreciatively, and thrust the claw end between the box and its lid.
What is inside does nothing to dispel the ghoulishness of the container’s outward appearance…
The box contains a humanoid figure, almost my exact height and build, rendered in jet black metal with a rippling, wootz pattern.
“Fresh off the forges of Ivaldason and Sons’ Durasteel Foundry, Iceland…” announces Sands, strolling through the throngs of people opening their respective crates “…Between 20 and 30kg each, dependin’ on your proportions… Wearin’ this armour, you become nearly as close to indestructible as it is possible to get without enterin’ the realm of divinity!… These suits are bulletproof and bombproof!… They do have some limitations… they’ll not, for instance, protect you from a long drop and a sudden stop! Your organs will still be rendered into slurry in that case… Neither’ll they protect you from bein' cut in half with a plasmasword!… From now on, you’ll wear these from dawn to dusk! Classes may be taken with your helmets off… Durin’ PT, however, you WILL wear them in their entirety!… It’ll be hard to begin with but, after less time than you think, your bodies’ll have acclimatised to the extra weight… and you’ll find movin’ in these almost as easy as movin’ out of ’em!… This mornin’s workshop’ll be an instructional on how to properly don, remove and maintain your armour!… Do please give it all your attention!"
---Esme’s perspective---
---Tuesday, 9th of January, 2683 Terran Calendar---
This is HELL!
The armour is perfectly fitting and nicely padded… but it’s so fucking heavy to wear that I can’t think about much more than how sweaty I am and how much my muscles ache from the days I’ve already been wearing it!
Sands said we’d get used to it sooner than we thought but, so far, I feel like exhaustion is making me worse, day on day!
I had to go and sleep in my dormroom last night because I was just too exhausted to engage in any… extracurricular exercise with Oskar(!)
He was quite understanding about it… A little too understanding… I wish he’d seemed at least a touch disappointed!
Back in the present moment, the black metal giant (boosted to over 2m by the height he gains from the boots and helmet) rams the tip of his training sword into my solar plexus… the one upside is that I’ll probably get less bruises wearing this armour!
“Hey…!”
“You’re dead, Esme…” is the only answer that comes from that expressionless helmet.
“You not feel like going a little easier on me now, Oskar?!… I am your girlfriend!!!”
“Caring more about you makes me wish to see you better able to protect yourself… So, no… I’m not going to coddle you…”
“Perfectly logical…(!)” I mock in a flat, midAtlantic accent, holding up my right palm, the ring and little finger splayed from the middle and index.
“Change partner!” shouts Sands.
Not too long ago, my heart would have leapt at that instruction and I would have utterly squashed any feeling of disappointment… Now, however, it causes my already flagging morale to vaporise!
Of course… it makes sense… If you only ever fight with one partner, you only ever learn to fight one way…
I shuffle along while Oskar stays where he is.
The next partner I’m up against is Kilroy… I might have a chance of holding my own against him at least!