SOMETIME IN MID 218 UC
CANBERRA ACADEMY
“…We’re taking a trip to space?” Friederika eyes the pamphlet with scrunched eyebrows, “I wonder if we’re going to a Cluster colony or something?” I can only offer a shrug.
“Seems like it changes every year or so. Sometimes it’s a planetary settlement, other times we get stuck on a ship entirely, and if we’re lucky we get to visit a Side colony.”
“Have you ever been to space, Vicky?” Friederika rolls up the pamphlet and hands it over to me—well, more like slapping me in the face with it. Annoyed, I take it from her and unroll it to read.
NOTICE FROM THE DIRECTOR’S OFFICE OF CANBERRA MILITARY ACADEMY
DIRECTOR INSPECTOR COMMODORE RAMSAY DERYCK
TO ALL CURRENT YEAR 4 CADETS
MUSTER IN STADIUM 2D FOR ORIENTATION REGARDING FUTURE FIELD EXERCISES BY 14:00
There are a few more tidbits at the bottom regarding details about shuttles and stuff, but that’s the gist of it. I roll up the pamphlet and toss it in the bin next to me. “Can’t say I have. I’ve only ever really been out to see and not much else. I think you went to space once or twice before, right, Kiki?”
She nods, “yeah, but that was years ago, I was like… maybe five or so still. My great-uncle took my brothers and me out on a spin in his little dinky vessel and all I remember was we vomited a lot.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, “you vomited ?
Friederika nods with a rare serious face, “yeah, we didn’t actually spend too much time in space I think. It was kinda traumatizing for me and my brothers. I think we cried a lot and my great-uncle found it hilarious.”
“Talk about sadism…”
Friederika rolls her eyes, “yeah, you could probably say that—though we did get another chance when we were older. It wasn’t nearly as bad the second time. I didn’t nearly puke as much—but it was a little nauseating still. You get used to it eventually.” Friederika shoots me a toothy grin, “just imagining the sight of you puking makes me…”
“Alright, you can leave my room now, bye.” Reaching over for the discarded pamphlet I toss it as hard as I can to Friederika, who easily dodges it.
“Okay, okay—fine, see you at the assembly.” Friederika waves to me as she leaves my room, leaving me alone to gaze at the bedroom ceiling. Outer space, huh? This could be fun.
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A FEW WEEKS LATER SYDNEY MILITARY SPACEPORT
A flat concrete area that stretches as far as the eye can see, interrupted by the sights of distant cityscapes. Blips of ships dot the spaceport’s vast area that appears gargantuan when we enter the spaceport premises and exit our busses. There are armies of technicians going around their day in land cruisers or small technician craft attending to some battered-looking ships that are almost as imposing as skyscrapers when you stand underneath them.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The warm voice of a middle-aged bloke makes me spin around in surprise. Technically we weren’t supposed to wander off, so I figured I was in trouble. “—My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says with eyes fixated on the battered brown ship standing before us. “I take it you’re a cadet from Canberra Institution?” He asks, dropping his gaze to me, and I freeze up yet again.
“U—…uh—yhm… er, yes. Yes— that’s correct!” I stammer trying to salute the man, he certainly has a fair share of ribbons on his chest. “I—I’m Victoria Happ-chees—” The man only scoffs and waves off my awkwardness.
“You don’t have to be scared of little old me. I’m merely a lieutenant—Lieutenant Viktor Mazzareli, that is. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He returns the favor with a salute, and crosses his arms while looking up back at the ship again. “—If you’re from Canberra then that means it’s that time of year where they send junior-level cadets up to space for training—sometimes it’s Side Mesopotamia… other times it’s on-hands training on a decommissioned destroyer or cruiser,” he looks back at me, and I can’t help but stiffen up again. Suddenly, he seems a lot bigger than before, “but relax… they let us know in advance your lot was coming. So don’t get the wrong impression that I’m apprehending you for trouble. You should hurry back to your mates, though, if Commander Buttermilch sees some little cadet running around the vicinity of his ship, he might complain.”
And with that, I nod and scurry back to the host of Canberra cadets.
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“Sir! All year four cadets, totaling three hundred and eighty-nine in all, are present and accounted for” An assistant to Director DeRyck reports in a loud and crystal voice, and he gives a nod. A little while ago we were called back to formation and were given a thorough inspection by some of the director’s staff, which also included reciting some rules or regulations which aren’t too different from what we do in past inspections—there isn’t really a point to it either. It’s just to give us one last hard time.
“Very well, have all the cadets enter the designated shuttle crafts in single-file lines,” DeRyck says addressing both us and the Canberra staff. We are then ordered into two groups, one heading for two separate shuttles, and march to our crafts. It takes a while to get us on board since we have to wait in turns to hop on the escalators that take us up to the shuttle doors.
When it’s finally my turn, I take a few steps on the steps as I am slowly lifted upward. The experience kind of reminds me of escalators that you might come to expect at a mall or something. The only difference is there’s no air conditioning and it’s hot and stuffy from the mild Aussie heat. I take one last look back at the harbor and the dwindling groups of people still down below.
It’s a beautiful view from up here. I can only imagine how it is from outer space.
“Find a seat and get yourself situated on safety regulations. Then proceed to buckle yourself in—help out your boys if they need any assistance,” a gruff-looking guy in army uniform barks to us as he walks down the passenger lane. I didn’t notice it, but he was also handing out brown bags to everyone.
“What’re these for?” I ask as I take one, and peek inside—nothing. It has a label on it that has the word SPEIBSACKERL plastered on it. But my question falls on deaf ears as the man had already made his way further down the lane.
Eventually, I do find Friederika, who happily sits down in the empty seat next to me. She gets herself buckled in, and helps me to also buckle in since it’s a bit of a pain. After that’s said and done, I notice I don’t see her with a bag, though. “Say… you don’t have a bag on you?”
Friederika eyes my SPEIBSACKERL bag and only smiles at me. “Nope! I don’t need one. Do you even know what it’s for?”
“Er…”
“It’s a puke bag, you puke in—”
“OK, thanks, I think I know now.”
Some time passes, and the gruff-looking officer accompanied by some of his colleagues makes his way toward the front to confirm that everyone is buckled in—and offer any bags to anyone that needs them. After that is said and done, he grabs the receiver off the wall and dials a few numbers, “this is Lieutenant Putsch: all passengers in sections B to F are ready for liftoff! We are ready to go whenever the pilots are,” Lieutenant Putsch man says into the phone.
“Affirmative, engines are warm and we will take off in t-minus two minutes. Hang in tight.” And with that Putsch hooks the phone back in place, he turns to face the rows of eyes piercing through him, to relay what the pilot told him.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Don’t worry, we will hardly notice a thing,” Friederika says cheerfully. Before I can even ask what she means, there is a faint hum as I find myself suddenly pressed into my seat, which I take to be the shuttle’s engines roar to life as we are launched forward. My stomach churns continuously as there is an abrupt jerk upward—followed by an increase in acceleration that only serves to make me sick. If I listen closely I can make out creaks and moans of the shuttle frame. Then, after what feels like forever—there is nothing. It’s impossible to tell what’s happening outside since all the windows are sealed tight, and Putsch forbade anyone from opening them.
I grip my bag tighter, feeling a little woozy still. I glance over at Friederika for some reassurance, and she only shows me a beaming smile. “Well? What’d you think so far?”
And again, before I can even process a response, I am interrupted by startled cries by other passengers somewhere behind us. I peek over my seat to see some cadets carelessly floating in various directions, clumsily trying to stabilize themselves to no avail. Various small articles like cans or paper also drift without a care in the world. Friederika suddenly gets excited and unbuckles herself, and she too starts gravitating above her seat. “C’mon! Enjoy it while it lasts, before they finalize the artificial stuff!” Friederika says excitingly, reaching for my belt system and undoing it.
“OI! You—Gah! Get back in your seats you wankers!” Lieutenant Putsch had made his way to our passenger cabin and sounded understandably very upset since he also didn’t permit anyone to unbuckle until we were cleared to do so.
“C’mon, Vicky!” She yanks me up and gently spins me around—and it’s not helping my stomach at all. Something begins to form in my throat, and I don’t like it. Where did my barf bag go?
“I won’t repeat myself again!” Putsch, seemingly unaccustomed to the lack of gravity, pulls himself to our part of the cabin while trying to hold down all the cadets in vain.
Friederika, being ever so ignorant of our impending doom, finally opens the window covering, “look! Isn’t it a beautiful sight?” I can only spare to turn my head slightly to get a breathtaking view of a wonderfully blue planet; Terra. Just peeking off its rim are cylinder-shaped space habitats—Side colonies, practically minuscule to our wonderful blue pearl. Even further is a gray dot—the Moon.
The fascination is cut short. A big burly hand rips me from the window, and the sight of the stubby Putsch with his hazel-eyes is right in my face. “Cadet Happ! Cadet Trachenberg! That goes for you as well!” It’s no good, my stomach can’t handle all this jerking around…
“Blllaaaagggrrhhhhhhhhhhh—”
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“I”m shocked you threw up on the lieutenant, Vicky. If you had to puke that badly, you should’ve told me sooner.” We were unloading our baggage from the rear of the shuttle when Friederika breaks the silence with a remark. Yeah, that would be a very Friederika thing to say.
“Okay, that’s enough talk about… agh, let’s just get this stuff out of the way already,” I remark bitterly trying to suppress the memory as best as I can. I’m probably never going to hear the end of it for the rest of my life; the blonde that threw up on big ol’ mean Putsch. Never mind my future if we take in Putsch though. Poor guy, he’snever going to hear the end of it for the rest of his career.
Our shuttles landed within one of the harbors within Side Lepanto, which is a newer member of the Cluster governed by the capital of Mesopotamia. There are lots of vessels not unlike the homogeneous military warships we saw before. The civilians’ ones docked here all unique and no two ships are alike—I’d say our lot of people stand out like a sore thumb—
“Cadet Puke! Get moving!” I snap back to reality once I hear that terrifying voice of the lieutenant barking at me and redoubled my efforts to move the line of bags along to be loaded onto our new buses. Cadet Puke… that’s in pretty poor taste, Lieutenant Puke-face McGee.
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Once everything was organized and ready, we boarded our buses and were driven to one of the tremendous metal-blue gates that lead into the first block of Lepanto.There’s a brief lull as things are sorted out before we are let through the checkpoint into Lepanto. And there is a tidal of emotional gasps throughout our bus once we are finally given a chance to take in the scenery.
From the point we’re at, I can make out sprawling lush vegetation, occasional rolling hills, and eye-catching architecture that goes on forever —and white mist lingers in the air and materializes more in the distance which obscures what I can make out entirely. The landscape is broken up by slithering artificial rivers that divide the area of the Lepanto perfectly. The sides of the Lepanto are open glass windows that are as wide as they are long which stretch uninterrupted into the pure-white mist. The windows expose a glimpse of the deep blue sea—you can just barely make out Terra nestled in the stars—so small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
The windows also serve to divide the other part of the landscape that’s directly above us. Squinting hard enough I can make out just about as many buildings and lush environments that equally go on into the deep white mist in the far distance. Running straight down the middle is a system of rail-lines that connect the two landscapes at various points, which are likely stops that connect to elevators to bring passengers or cargo down.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The somber voice of Friederika brings me out of my ogling monologue. I turn to see tears streaming down her face.
“Yeah, it is— wait, why are you crying?!” I ask in both amusement and surprise, “it’s a breathing-taking sight, but it’s not THAT…”
“I-I’m just so taken in by it!” She says in between chokes of sobs, “I’ve never actually been inside a Side before…” It feels a bit awkward having some eyes gravitate towards us, but there are some similar sentiments of people getting emotional over the sight. I don’t blame any of them though, it is rather moving. To think that generations of humanity lived in these gigantic capsules to avoid extinction…
Eventually, we reached our destination which is one of the train terminals with several trains in the station. We are ordered to disembark our buses in an orderly fashion which is anything but. We are allowed a moment of fresh air—in this case artificial—that gives my lungs a slight tingle. Our brief rest is followed by unpacking and then transferring over to one of the trains, which we then board in an orderly fashion.
After far too much rowdiness the trains depart the station and move at a moderate speed through the Lepanto. We are treated to a splendid birds-eye view of people going about their life. Ant-sized people on foot, small riverboats, and the occasional vehicle scooting around on slightly paved roads. But soon enough that passes by us, and our field of view is obstructed almost entirely by the thick fog that the train pierces without hesitation.
When we emerge through the heavy mist we are greeted by a largely rural landscape. Many take to crowding the windows, often shoving others without a second thought, often shoving others like me and Friederika out of the way.
There are dense forests that remind me of Indo-China, and plenty of hills and a few mountain points that dominate this part of the Lepanto. “You think this is where we might be training?” Friederika utters as she squeezes free of the eccentric mosh-pit.
“Seems like it,” I reply with a nod while staring ahead at the next terminal station.
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The next first few weeks were spent familiarizing ourselves with the rural district. This was followed by a rotation of activities ranging from simple physical education to grueling morning jogs while wearing light gear—and later forcing us to haul around loaded guns and layers of ammo belts. It was sadistic, to say, and we were given little downtime—quiet time was regularly enforced. Any poor soul who violated it would result in their entire company being collectively punished—it was common for the first few nights of men doing laps in full gear at night, keeping the rest of the cadet body awake at times with their pants and groans.
After the last week we were then subject to field exercises—either practicing with loading and firing dummy missiles into missile pods, or actual mini mock-battles between blue and opposing red force using paint pellets in place of live-ammunition. This part of our training lasted for about a week. “Haaa… I can’t believe that’s finally over—that’s a bit too intense for me…” Friederika moans as I enter the makeshift tent she put up sometime earlier. She had a pretty terrible streak in all our mock-battles; she struck several times early on and was forced to sit it out on the sidelines almost every time. Lucky for her—or so I’d like to think, not so much for personal evaluation.
“Yeah… you could say that again,” I reply, undoing my helmet’s straps and tossing it to the side—almost the entire area is covered in a splatter of pink paint. Similarly, one of my thighs is completely doused in it and it sticks to my leg as a result. Washing this out will be a pain later—thankfully, I packed extra pants. It turns out participating in a bonafide bayonet—which are rubber—charge against an entrenched infantry force is not a very good idea. Alexandra was the one who suggested it in the heat of the moment, and she accused me of being a coward when I suggested a more tactful approach. Of course, the hotheaded one wins out in the end…
“Hooo? Cadet Puke didn’t make it through the entrenched line?” The aggravating voice of Alexandra makes me reel around. Her torso is dotted with pink blots of pain, and there’s a tiny bit on her right cheek.
“You made it through?” I ask in mild surprise. She nods her head with that dangerously beaming grin.
“Barely—we took the first two trenches—but we were driven back pretty hard by a counter bayonet charge…” She deflates with a heavy sigh, “I tried to protect my men—I went down trying to shield Vinnie so she could escape… but, well…” She looks behind her at Vinnie, whose back is against us. She seems to be trying to figure out where the paint shots on her back are located. When Vinnie sees us all looking at her she gets flustered and looks away.
“…All’s well in mock-battle war. As exciting as that was though…” Alexandra suddenly looks serious, and she folds her arms while staring into the distance.
“…I hope we never have to do this for real.” None of us say anything afterward. It is a sentiment we all share in solemn silence.