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Chapter 4.5 - Old Men - Part 2
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The following day, I find myself tasked with helping the Caravel's janitor, Mr Richard. At first, I thought this was yet another cruel way to put the new kid through as much manual labour as possible, but soon I began to see that wasn't quite the case.
The Caravel is a small ship with little in the way of gravity, meaning dust is taken out via the air-filtration system. There is no such thing as muddy boots or uninvited pests, so really our jobs for the day proved more low-effort than my usual work. Polishing, changing out the filters, cleaning down surfaces. I started wondering if Chief Gros had specially given me this work today as a way to cool down a bit, a chance to take it a little easier with everything going on. Honestly from prisoners getting killed, to the announcement of the first mission I'd partake in, to... Generators, I certainly welcomed this chance at a break.
“Heya kiddo, what ya thinkin' about?” Mr Richard asked from across the table. We'd taken lunch about an hour before everyone else does, the old janitor claiming to prefer not to be in the way during rush hour. The long rectangular shape of the canteen feels strangely large with just the two of us here, usually it's crowded at all hours so you don’t realise the room, with a buffet at one end and door at the other, is actually quite large.
That simple difference in perception, even noticing things like the lighting being a little brighter here than in most other areas of the ship, prompts my answer; “Oh nothing really, sir, just thinking about how different the ship feels when you visit a room at a quiet time.”
He chuckles lightly at my response. Mr Richard really is quite old, with tanned skin, and short crop hair, leaving his forehead covered in wrinkles for all to see – half-lidded eyes and a bushy moustache – he is probably pushing seventy.
“There's a lot more to these little Caravel class ships than most think! ‘Course, this is the last one now,” he says, sounding a little solemn by the end. He picks up his cup of tea from the table, taking a sip before continuing, “Do you know this ship's actual name, young Kris?”
“Err, It's not Caravel?” I reply, a little surprised.
“Oh-ho-ho! You don't really know much about this place, do you? Well, not like you're the only one blindly aboard.”
I frown a little, “A ship is a ship, right? I can't imagine the history of this class is all that important to working on it.”
Richard raised an eyebrow at that too, “Hoo? Maybe, maybe not. There were dozens of the Caravel class once. The fastest ship by a long shot back then and one of the most deadly.”
I’m on the verge of rolling my eyes. Perhaps age is catching up with the poor man. Still, he is a nice guy and is always polite to me, so I swallow my impulse for sass and continue playing along with the conversation in between bites of my sandwich; “Deadly, sir? The ship is only a corvette, probably one of the smallest spaceship lines ever. I can't see it ever having been all that dangerous.”
Richard laughs, not his usual chuckle but a more full-bodied activity. When he’s done, he fixes me with a deadly serious look, “Kid, the Knight-Brigades were the most deadly, ruthless and cunning fighting force our people have ever deployed, and Caravels were their ship of choice.”
Now that catches my attention.
'Vijiak-Knights' was once a term to describe anyone who guarded the Royal Abhailen Family with a mech. They had all been skilled pilots, as you might imagine, but amongst them was a second division who were less protective and more proactive. The 'Knight- Brigades'.
The States-Union simply saw the brigades as our equivalent of special-forces pilots, but that isn't right. We have standard aces and elite units. No, the Knight-Brigades were said to be legendary, a mix of the best pilots and special ops; there was none more skilled than they were.
But they’re long gone now, and I'd never heard about a link to this class of warship before. Mr Richard seems to pick up on the interest in my face and continues on with a crooked smile, “You really know nothing, huh, new kid? Then again, that's just your whole generation, ho-ho. Even the grandkids are like you, raised on our own propaganda and nonsense. Get that sparkle out of your eye!” He suddenly snaps, his ever-calm, friendly old man demeanour dropping in an awful instant. As though I've accidentally flipped a switch the usually friendly man seems to have lost it;
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“The Brigades weren't good people. They were the absolute worst of us. The Caravel were perfect for them, little daggers cutting across the night sky, deploying two or three mechs at a time, boarding enemy ships. Assassinations, kidnappings, civilian targets, attacks on cities.
In the last year of The First War, they did it all, the most heinous fighting these old eyes ever saw and probably ever will… And the worst part? They had no cause; they weren’t fighting for good or independence or love of their king. They fought out of enjoyment for the hunt, and nothing more noble than that.”
I nearly drop my sandwich. At a loss for words, I sit silently.
What is he even trying to say? The room's atmosphere has utterly changed from him speaking just a few short, unwarranted sentences. Propaganda? I’ve met old people who like to go off on tangents like this before, but this is absurd!
He'd even said ‘The First War’.
That's what TSU calls the first three years of fighting. We, Remembrance, believe it's all been one fight, thirteen years at war, but TSU breaks it into smaller chunks with pretend 'peace years' in between. A way to demean our efforts, to make everything seem smaller than it really is. To use those words, to make it sound like The First War was somehow more than all the rest of the fighting, more than the fighting my mother and father died–
“Eh-eh kid, for such a pretty face, you're making one heck of a scary expression,” Richard suddenly adds, breaking the moment in a much calmer voice, “I didn't mean to upset you like that. I'm not devaluing the sacrifice of our people or agreeing with TSU, am still here fighting, ain't I? In my own way,” he says, holding up the washcloth he'd left next to him on the kitchen table.
I nod, feeling silly for getting so worked up that fast.
“Still, TSU are good historians if nothing else. And those first three years of fighting were on another level, as were the Knight-Brigades.
They did things more unforgivable than anything since. You see they weren't just the ones who did the dirty work. They were the best of the best. Dozens of aces got their start in the brigades, the likes of the Scourge or the Meteorite, and of course, the one who stood above them all, already at his peak while they were just getting started. The most skilled and equally the cruellest of them all--” Richard stops dead, perhaps my face had gotten 'scary' again.
Everything he’s saying makes no sense. It goes against everything I've spent my whole life hearing about these heroes of years past.
“Ahem, sorry kid, you just wanted to know more about the ship, right, not those who used ‘em. Well, they were all destroyed in that third year, mostly by the First Casnel itself. Headquarters kept sending them to try and stop it, but they all failed. Even Templar lost against it.
Eventually, there was just this one left. The first of the line was the 'Caravel 1' and the last, this very ship, is the 'Caravel 2' – The ones in between had more creative names, ho-ho.” The old man has kept talking, but I've stopped listening.
I half-whisper my following words; “Templar lost?”
“Hoooo? Well, of course. Everyone lost to the First Casnel at least once. Templar lost twice and lived to tell the tale. Oh, but don't worry, the newer Casnels are much weaker. There hasn't been any that strong in a decade, and the Crusade has been upgraded greatly since then, as has Templar himself...”
I’m at a loss and perhaps feeling a bit childish for having underestimated this old man. I wonder just how much he has seen and how long he’s had been fighting for – but mostly, I’m struggling to picture it, Templar losing a battle – even if that had been ten years ago, even if he was stronger now and the enemies weaker.
Richard frowns, “I think that's enough talking carelessly from me, eh? Time to show you every single nook and cranny of this place in a more hands-on fashion, he-he!” He grins, springing up from his chair with the energy of a man half his age.
“Y-you're going to tell me all that and just go back to cleaning?!” I shriek.
He smiles, “That's a janitor's job, to see it all and clean up the mess afterwards, and today you're my assistant! Kids these days always looking to slack off. Come on!”
I wondered later if, rather than as a break, Gros had really been trying to teach me something else by pairing me with Richard that day. At the very least, I’ve come to the conclusion that I must never underestimate the old men of the Caravel (2) again.
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