Alyra Cresta checked her uniform for the third time in the small mirror in her bunk. Her dark grey uniform was crisp and perfect, without a spot on it. Her silver hair hung behind her to her waist, perfectly straight and untangled. Her pale white horns gracefully emerged from the sides of her head and swooped forward, till they were about 4 inches apart before jutting forward a few inches. They were only a few shades lighter than her skin, which was the typical alabaster white of her kind. The Drasee were a spacefaring race, and rarely saw starlight and didn’t need the protection that had evolved in her ancestors. Leaning forward, she checked that her eyes weren’t unusually red. The white sclera was perfectly clear, and the emerald green irises sparkled in the light of the small room.
Satisfied, she smiled in the mirror, then frowned, then smirked. Practice. She was heading to war, and the prepared always win. She turned and regarded her bunk. It was small, but slightly bigger than regulation, which was little more than a tube in the wall. In this bunk, she actually had about a foot and a half of room to walk between the wall and bed, and had the wall mirror she was currently standing in front of. Perks of being an officer, she supposed. She glanced at the timekeeper on the wall and walked out the door. She didn’t have to be at the muster for another 30 minutes, but those of her rank were better off showing up early. Not so early that it looked like she was trying to suck up, but not so late that she got there after all of the others.
Her face remained passive, but frustration churned inside her. All of the unspoken rules and posturing grated her nerves. She was born and bred for battle, for war, not petty mind games and political riddles. However, the inane rules were going to pay off today. All the glad-handing and fake smiles were going to get her the promotion to Sub-Fleet Commander and have command of her own sub-fleet: 3 Predator class cruiser, 1 Gunnar class frigate, and 1 Scout class destroyer. It was the first step any renowned General or Admiral took to reach greatness. It would also mean that she could leave the orbit of the dreadful planet they were currently in orbit around
The planet, ‘Fea’tra’, as the locals called it, wasn’t anything special, as far as she knew. The natives were primitive and savage if the reports were to be believed. They didn’t even have electricity and fought with swords and spears made of simple steel and iron. Weapons like that were no match for the advanced titanium-graphene melee weapons that the Republic preferred. Alyra instinctively put a hand on her twinblade at her side, feeling its comfortable weight on her hip. The only thing the Fea’tra had going for them was their magic.
She nearly scoffed as she thought of it. There was no way something as unbelievable as magic existed, regardless of what the shock troopers said. They were human after all, and their strange stress responses caused them to make things up often. However, she was having a harder time refuting their claims. She had been on the ship that was ordered to start orbital bombardment on one of the great trees the Fea’tra made their home. The dozen multi-ton, tungsten-osmium alloy projectiles fell with enough force to destroy entire mountains, streaking through the atmosphere like glimmering blue lines of fire. Yet none of the projectiles had actually hit the city. It wasn’t that the calculations had been incorrect, as the targeting computers had a 99.9999% accuracy rating. All but three of the projectiles had simply stopped before they had even ruffled the massive tree’s leaves. The three that didn’t fall harmlessly to the ground started sparkling with a green and golden nimbus, spinning to face back towards the fleet before streaking upward towards the fleet at speed far greater than they had been falling before.
She still flinched at the memory of one of those rods grazing the deck next to the one that she had been watching in. The hole that the rod had made glowed red with heat and produced a hole far larger than it should have. Two other ships hadn’t been as lucky as hers, taking the rods directly to their center of mass, and little was left of them but twisted debris and bodies that burned up in the atmosphere as it fell. There hadn’t been another attempt to bombard the planet from orbit.
She had tried to convince herself that it was just some strange tech that the savages had cobbled together. She still wasn’t confident she believed her own explanation.
As she stewed on this, she reached the muster hall. It was actually one of the massive mess halls that the ship used to feed its crew, but with all the tables stored away. The doors spun open as she approached, recognizing her ID and rank badge on the shoulder of her dress uniform. Alyra wasn’t the first one in the mess, and she arced an eyebrow in surprise, glance at the clock in the corner of her HUD implant. 12 minutes till muster. She was right on time.
The other officer standing near the front of the room nodded at her as she approached. Her HUD automatically brought up his information even though she didn’t need it. The Candidate was named Hadron Tallius, a human. He was a strange one. Most humans in the Republic served as shock troopers, using their innate survival skills to adapt and overcome any strange environment the Republic might find itself invading, or they served as noncombat support units, using their relatively small size and nimble fingers to do tasks other species find difficult. If she was being honest with herself, humans scared her a little bit. They were ridiculously adaptable, easily coping with lost limbs and fighting off toxins and diseases that would cripple most species. It was unfortunate they were a short-lived species, only lasting to about 100 at best, and were only really combat-ready for the span of 10-20 years.
“Candidate Alyra, it is good to see you again,” Hadron said, turning and smiling slightly at her as he saluted.
“Candidate Hadron, it is always a pleasure,” Alyra replied, returning his salute and smile.
Alyra liked Hadron. He was rather straightforward to deal with and hated the political bullshit as much as she did. He was roughly six foot tall – tall for a human – but still much shorter than Alyra at seven foot four inches. He had curly black hair with light brown skin and pale blue eyes that sparkled with hard won intelligence. A straight blade hung at his hip in a scabbard, the simple grey handle polish to a matte sheen.
“It seems we’re the first ones here today, surprisingly. I expected at least the Twins to be here by now,” he said, casting his gaze around the hall. He was referencing the Ferraili twins, Tie and Kai. They belonged to the Gemini species, a race always born as twins that had a strange connection to each other from the moment they opened their eyes. They were, obviously, inseparable and you rarely saw the one without the other. They were terrible to fight, even worse to talk to.
“I’m sure they will show up any minute. You know they love ceremony,” Alyra said with a slight smirk.
Hadron laughed and nodded. As if on cue, the Ferraili Twins entered from the same door Alyra had entered. They were about the same height as Alyra, but were painfully thin to her eyes, with pallid grey skin and hair. Their eyes were the only things that set the two apart: Tie had dark purple eyes, and Kai had vibrant yellow. Laser glaives hung on their backs, swaying gently with their synchronized steps.
“Greetings Candidate Kai, Candidate Tie,” Alyra greeted them, giving them a casual salute that was slightly less respectful than the one she had given Hadron. It was subtle reminder to them that they were not her equals yet, and to Hadron that she respected his ability more. Just because she hated the posturing didn’t mean she wasn’t good at it.
The returned the salute and said in unison “We greet you, Candidate Alyra and Candidate Hadron.”
“Well with you two, we are just waiting on the star of the show,” Hadron said, his mouth quirking into a wan smile.
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“You best not let Shadron know you are talking about them like that, they might cry to their father about it,” Alyra quipped back, allowing a smirk.
They were of course talking about Shadron Celesti, the final potential officer. Shadron was the image of spoiled rich kid. They weren’t particularly good at fighting or strategy, but was an expert in political maneuvering, which was how they were here in the first place. Their father was a highly influential Major in the Armada, and they had used that leverage to its fullest potential.
With a hiss, the door slid open again, revealing Candidate Shadron.
To her right, Alyra heard Hadron mutter “Speak of the devil” under his breath. Alyra made a mental not to ask home about it later, it sounded useful.
“Hello everyone,” Shadron said, snapping a lazy salute to the assembled Sergeants. Alyra’s temper flared under her mask of calm, and she resisted the urge to punch them in the face. Last time that had happened in the sim chambers, Shadron had refused to look at her for 2 weeks straight. Most peaceful time in training that she could remember.
Candidate Shadron was a Drasee, like her. They were only 7 foot tall, but had steely grey hair that contracted nicely with their pure white horns and red eyes. They carried a twinblade like Alyra, but she knew that they barely knew the basics of the weapon.
Instead of lashing out, Alyra simply said, “Hello Sergeant Shadron. Good to finally have you with us.” She didn’t return the salute. It was petty, but soon she wouldn’t have to deal with the self-righteous fool ever again. Over the last 5 years of training and simulations, Shadron had been a pain to everyone in her class. They somehow managed to get no chores or extra assignments, and was rarely even in class, but the teachers and officers they had trained under heaped enough praise on them that Alyra was surprised that they didn’t collapse under its weight.
To her mild annoyance, Shadron wasn’t even paying attention, instead staring off into space as they watched something on their HUD. It was a major breach in protocol to have anything but the basics on the HUD during anytime that wasn’t recreation or personal time. She resisted the urge to flick them in the horns.
The rest of her class filed into the hall. The five that arrived early were the top five of the class, though it wasn’t clear who was first and last in that ranking. Alyra had confidence she was first. She had worked extremely hard the last five years to be the best in everything, get the best grades, become unbeatable in the sim matches. Alyra wasn’t undefeated, but she knew she had the best win ratio according to the notes she had painstakingly created. Her exam scores were excellent – not perfect but close enough to make her sure of her victory.
After some brief confusion, people started getting in line behind the 5 top players in ranks 4 wide and 5 deep; in all, twenty people stood behind Alyra. They stood at ease and a quiet buzz of conversation filled the hall. Their commander and teachers had yet to enter the hall, but she knew that her cohort was ready at a moment’s notice to snap to attention. She had already checked to be sure that her entire squad was accounted for and ready. Her position as a top scorer had granted her the honor of commanding her own squad, and even though she knew that it didn’t mean much, she liked to think that since she commanded First squad, she was the top student.
A door clicked open on the small stage at the front of the room, and the entire room fell silent, each recruit stiffening their backs and standing at attention. A Drasee man strode out of the opened door, stopping at center stage. His uniform boots clicked on the stage and echoed in the now silent room. Three silver bars adorned his left shoulder, catching the light. He was Trainer Gallo, their primary teacher and commanding officer. He looked out upon them before speaking.
“Squad One, sound off!” He said, his commanding voice filling the room.
Alyra stepped forward with her left leg first and planted her right leg firmly on the ground with a satisfying thump while snapping a salute, raising her left hand, palm forward, to her right shoulder. As her left foot planted, she heard the rest of her squad do the same with a rustle of fabric and thud of boots in perfect unison. She resisted the urge to smile at her squad’s discipline.
“Squad One, all present. Hail to the Republic!” Alyra said in her most commanding voice. It was loud, but not quite a shout.
Trainer Gallo nodded and shifted his attention to Squad Two.
“Squad Two, Sound off!”
Each squad sounded off, their discipline just as tight as Alyra’s until Shadron’s turn came. Shadron was exactly on time, but their squad had several desynced steps, made all the more obvious after the near flawless performance the other Squad commanders. A flash of emotion crossed Trainer Gallo’s face but was gone before Alyrra could make sense of it. Gallo moved on after all the squads were saluting.
“Presenting High Major Yessan, first Lieutenant Sierra, and first Lieutenant Pilla!” Gallo said, turning on one heel and walking to the back half of the stadium.
Three people entered from the same door that Gallo had come through. The first was a golden haired Crystali woman, First Lieutenant Sierra. She walked with the strange grace that her race all had, each step causing a faint resonance to ring out. Her hair was made of a translucent yellow crystal, the same crystal making up her eyelashes and irises. Crystali had longer legs that what would be usually proportional and were always noticed when they entered a room due to the sparkling light that would refract through their hair.
Next entered First Lieutenant Pilla. Pilla was a Gemini but had the distinct qualities that mark them as a Broken Twin. Their eyes were a swirl of red and blue, and streaks of the two colors ran through all of their visible skin as intricate veins. When one of the Gemini lose their twin and survives the trauma, they change drastically. The eye color of their twin joins in the iris at first, but then spreads throughout the body in the form of twisting veins of color. The also absorb the memories of the twin as if it were their own. Directly after the loss of the twin, the survivor will have a very distinct split in the colors but over time, the colors mix and become one. When the color is completely uniform, the surviving twin will hold a special place in Gemini society and their words carry more weight. Pilla was about halfway through the transformation, having lost their twin about 5 years ago.
And finally, High Major Yessan entered. Nearly eight feet tall and walking with the powerful stride of command, the Ithic woman cut an imposing figure. Her wings were folded neatly against her back, the white feathers peppered with flecks of black gleamed in the light. Horns spiraled from the side of her head while her platinum hair curled around them in tight coils. Golden eyes watched the assembled squads as she came before the assembled crowds.
After a moment, she snapped a salute, and the cadets replied with a single stomp. There was no one out of time.
“At ease cadets,” High Major Yessan said, lowering the salute and standing at ease with the rest of the cadets, “It is my honor to present the final Cadet Rankings, and hand each of you promotions and assignments. This unit had an exceptional rating, and I look forward to what you all do for the Republic. Now, without further ado, I will now announce the final rankings and assignments. We will begin with the rankings.”
Alyra felt a thrill run down her back and her heart rate speed up. It was finally here, the culmination of five years of blood, sweat and tears. She tried to temper her excitement but couldn’t force the feeling to recede. The high major started speaking again.
“In 5th place, Candidate Kai. New rank, Sergeant, Rank 2. Assignment: Deployment to the planet,” Yessan said. A hologram with the new rank floated above Kai’s head. The assembled crowd gave one stomp in approval. Alyra had expected that. Kai was only slightly worse at fighting than their twin.
“4th place, Candidate Tei. New rank, Sergeant Rank 2. Assignment: Deployment to the planet.”
Another hologram, and another stomp. Another expected result. So far, Alyra’s list had been spot on. And if the trend continued…
“3rd place, Candidate Hadron. New rank, Second Lieutenant. Assignment: to be determined. Report to Trainer Gallo after the ceremony.”
Spot on again. There were two stops this time. Alyra couldn’t help but notice that Hadron’s squad stomped extra loudly. She thought he deserved it. He had worked hard and deserved that rank. However, his assignment was strange. It seemed unlikely that there wouldn’t be a role ready for a new lieutenant to fill. She dismissed the thought as the High major started speaking again.
“2nd place,” Yessan began. Alyra felt a surge of glee. This was the moment that she had proof she had put down Shadron. She believed without a doubt that she had done better than them, and the rest of the ceremony would be the start of her rise to glory.
“Candidate Alyra. New rank: First lieutenant. Assignment: to be determined. Report to Trainer Gallo after the ceremony.”
The world seemed to fall under her, the triple thump of boots on metal barely registering in her ears as they seem to ring, and it felt like all her blood had left her brain. She felt herself sway slightly like the words had punched her. The only words that got through her desperate mind were High Major Yessan’s next words.
“Candidate Shadron. New rank: First lieutenant. Assignment: Sub-Fleet commander. Congratulations, Lieutenant Shadron.”