by Z H Brown
This new armor was beautiful- top of the line, she was sure- and while she was anxious to try it on, she hesitated, feeling the pressure of what it represented build up in her chest. A soldier was all she had ever claimed to be, and in her old armor she had looked the part. Imagining herself in this sleek new armor, standing before all the Empire, being commended by the emperor himself…she decided in that moment that if given the choice, she would rather go another round with Reno than attend the ceremony.
It wasn’t long after they had unpacked their packages when they all received a message on their TIGs telling them where and when to meet the next day. Ansaria, her stomach twisting in a way it hadn't since her first real mission after basic training, saw the time and figured everyone should turn in.
“All right, squad, we’ve got a damn big day tomorrow, so let’s hit the sack.”
The others complied, none of them seeming to be feeling the same anxiousness she was. After everyone had their gear stowed and was settled in, Ansaria shut off the lights.
She lay down on her bunk, tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, and after what seemed like hours, finally fell asleep.
The steady beep of her TIG awoke Ansaria, who jerked up at the sound with a start. Her sleep had only been partially restful, and every time she had awoken in the night, her mind had immediately snapped to the day’s coming events.
The rest of her squad was up as well. Alvara had her new breastplate on, the shiny, white armor complementing her pale pink skin and golden scales. Tread was replacing his greaves, his body a patchwork of unblemished white and battle-scared gray. He was switching out the smaller and easier pieces before he affixed the heavier armor. Critter was chattering up a storm to Tread as he adjusted his new gear.
Ansaria rose and stretched, her stomach a constricted mess, and began putting on her own armor. The new equipment was heavier than the armor she had worn all her career, but not too heavy as too negatively impact her movement; with a little time, she would adjust to the extra weight. As she gently attached the pauldron to her wounded shoulder, she wondered if this armor would have prevented her injury... or could have saved Slog’s arm.
When her last piece snapped into place, Ansaria looked over her squad. They were all standing, waiting on her to finish, gleaming in their new battle gear. She gave everyone a once over to make sure that everything was in place and, once she was satisfied that they were all ready, made for the door.
“Come on, everyone,” she said, trying to ignore the nerves that had become queasiness. “Let’s go get our awards.”
The lift took them down towards the middle of the ship. No one spoke on the ride, the squad all lost in their own thoughts. When they arrived, they found an Imperial officer in her gray fatigues waiting for them. She was a Xenlongian, just a little taller than Ansaria. Her ebony hair was slicked back and reached down to her shoulders; her ranking pins marked her as a lieutenant, and Ansaria’s mind flashed back to Goreman on Brakka.
“Sergeant Ansaria, right on time,” she said, smiling at the group. “If you’ll follow me this way, your squad mate is awaiting you.”
Hearing that Slog was already there helped ease some of the tension Ansaria had been feeling. She was surprised that it would do so, though she supposed she had been worried about her friend for so long that it would be a relief to speak with him again.
The lieutenant led them down the corridor, turning one corner, then another, before they arrived at a door marked “Back Stage Entrance.” The lieutenant keyed the door open and stood aside so the squad could file in.
The room was dimly lit, with a heavy screen to their right, and was empty save for two occupants. Slog was seated in a hover-chair, a physician bot standing next to him. He was wearing the same ivory armor they were, though not a complete set. He turned toward them at the sound of their approach, and a wide smile appeared on his face.
“Sarge!” he said, waving an arm vigorously. “Long time no see!”
Ansaria smiled as well, and was going to reply, when she realized which arm he was waving with. The prosthetic was almost skeletal, with only a few extra pieces attached to it. It was dark gray in color, so dark as to almost be black, which contrasted with his new armor. The hand had four digits, thin and conical, with all the fingers ending in a dull point.
Slog noticed her staring at the new limb, and laughed. “No need to worry about me, Sarge,” he said to ease her discomfort. “The new arm works great, not to mention that it’s strong enough to turn a rock into powder.” He flexed his mechanical fingers before moving his arm in a variety of ways and directions.
“I’m glad to hear it, Slog,” replied Ansaria, swallowing and taking a breath. “Honestly, I half expected you to knock my lights out with that fancy new arm of yours.”
Slog tapped one of his tusks pensively, paying no heed to the feel of the artificial limb. “Aw, come on Sarge, how could I blame you for this? It was that mechanical bastich that did this, not you…and no offense, Tread.”
“None taken, fragile meatbag," replied Tread with a teasing grin, studying his friend's synthetic arm with interest.
“I mean, I wouldn’t have volunteered to get my arm lopped off or anything, but without you, I probably would’ve died down there," Slog said with a shrug and an awkward smile. “Don’t let this chair fool you: I feel great, but the only way the docs would let me come was if I agreed to take it easy for a little while longer.”
Ansaria smiled as well. “That’s a relief to hear, Slog, it really is.”
Slog turned toward the bot accompanying him. “Hey, I’m feeling a bit thirsty, mind getting me a drink?”
The mechanical caretaker inclined its head. “Of course, private.”
As the bot left to retrieve a drink, Slog turned to Ansaria and asked in a low voice: “Now, what have you been up to? Critter and ‘'Vara told me some of it, but we were always too crowded to really talk.”
Ansaria quietly told him about her meetings with Xandarius, about how she had told him about everything that had happened since they recovered the Voidbox on Oasis, as well as her collaboration with the Emperor and Tread.
Before Slog could reply, the lieutenant returned. “All right everyone, the time is upon us. If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you properly arrayed.”
She led them down to the opposite end of the room from the way they entered, stopping in front of a small door next to the wall screen. The lieutenant stopped before the door before turning to speak with them.
“All right, here is the order in which you shall go out: Private Critter, Private Krunkle, Private Alvara, Private Tread, and finally, Sergeant Dormus.” She held up a small disc that Ansaria had not noticed she was carrying. “Private Critter, this hover-platform will allow you to stand by yourself at a reasonable height. You can control it with your TIG, so you’ll be responsible for getting into position. Private Krunkle, will you be going out in the chair?”
Slog shook his head before standing up. He moved only with the stiffness of someone that had been bedridden for a number of days. If Ansaria hadn’t seen it herself, she wouldn’t have even guessed that he had lost his arm less than a week ago. The medical bot tried to help him, but Slog waved him away. He stretched and scratched his chin with his new limb.
“Let’s do this.”
The lieutenant nodded, and the mechanical physician took the hover-chair out of the way.
“Is everyone ready?” Ansaria and the others nodded silently. “Then, as the hardy private said, let’s do this.”
The lieutenant stood to one side as the door slid open. One by one, the squad members filed out: Critter floating along on his disc, Slog walking purposely, if a little stiffly, behind him. Alvara slithered out next, a mixture of graceful beauty and danger. Tread followed with mechanical precision, his face an unreadable mask. Finally, it was Ansaria’s turn. She took a deep breath, and then reached down to adjust her armor. Her hand brushed against something, and she looked down to see the str
ip of fabric Eberius had given her at their parting, still tied to the hilt of her sword. She smiled slightly at the memory of her brief encounter, taking strength from it, then squared her shoulders and marched after the others.
A single spotlight fell upon her as she came into view of the massive room, following her movements. She focused on that light at first, finding it thankfully neither blinding nor exceptionally hot, just discomforting in that she was its focus. Reluctantly she turned her attention to the room before her, observing first its high ceiling then its massive walls. Given how huge it was Ansaria was half convinced that this was a hangar, either temporarily or permanently re-purposed into a platform stage. As her eyes finally fell onto the crowd filling the room, she inhaled sharply.
She couldn’t tell if there were hundreds or thousands assembled before them. Most of the soldiers and crewmembers wore gray outfits, armor or jumpsuits. The majority of the faces seemed to be Xenlongian, but there were nearly just as many races that Ansaria couldn’t recognize or knew only by name. A large tree-like creature stood towering over all those around it. A small pack of large, blue beings, with floppy ears, sharp beaks and black eyes were chattering away with each other. A large crustacean, easily as wide as Ansaria was tall, was conversing with some of those near it.
Here and there, splashes of color marked the Prizmids amongst the crew. Machines of all shapes and sizes were scattered throughout the assembly; some androids like Tread and others with more abstract shapes or forms more suited for heavy combat. The air above the crowd was buzzing with bots and drones, hovering overhead as viewers and recorders.
The front two rows nearest the stage were filled with people wearing armor identical to Ansaria’s- or at least the closest approximate that some species could manage. She guessed that they were some of the Emperor’s guards attending as security. Ansaria couldn’t fathom why Xandarius would need so many guards present at a simple award ceremony, but after everything that had happened recently, she supposed she couldn’t fault him for being a little overcautious.
The low buzz and general murmur came to a halt as a glowing, blue light got everyone’s attention. Slowly descending from high above, the illumination was coming from a spherical being about as large as Ansaria’s torso. It had two pairs of shiny, translucent wings that also seemed to glow with their own light.
“Citizens and soldiers of the Empire,” the voice that emanated from the glowing being was firm, yet warm. It seemed to Ansaria to be a matronly voice, and she would have guessed the creature to be female though for all she knew its species had no gender. “Announcing the arrival of Emperor Xandarius the First, the Great, the Conqueror, the Uniter and the Savior of Xenlong!”
On the opposite end of the stage from where Ansaria and her squad had emerged, a circular hole opened in the floor. Rising from out of it was Xandarius, still wearing his Silverskin battle suit, but now also sporting a short cape of Imperial gray that he wore over one shoulder. As he ascended, cheers and applause broke out amongst the assembly. Those that had no appendages for clapping made their feelings known in other ways: some of the machines flashed their lights in a variety of patterns, while those that hovered in the air did loops and spins. The large crustacean in the crowd was clacking its pincers open and shut, while the arboreal being waved its long, wooden arms above its head like a tree in high wind.
Xandarius allowed the warm welcome to continue for a few moments before holding up his hands for silence. Once the applause had died down, he began:
“Citizens and soldiers of the Empire, we are assembled here today to honor a squad of soldiers that have not only proven to be the example all Imperial soldiers should strive to be, but also the heroes and saviors of our very way of life.”
As he finished, a large bot, almost as tall as Ansaria and certainly wider, floated over to the Emperor. It had long, thin arms that ended in blunt pincers, and as it reached its destination, a large compartment slid out of its chest.
Xandarius walked over and stood before Critter. The tiny teammate was standing at attention, the only movement coming from the slight rise and fall of the hover-platform he stood on. The pincer-armed bot reached into its compartment and pulled out a tiny box that would’ve fit into the palm of Ansaria’s hand.
“Private Critter, for meritorious conduct in the face of overwhelming danger, as well as going above and beyond the call of duty, I hereby award you with the Indigo Star, as well as the promotion to the rank of corporal, effective immediately.”
Xandarius opened the small box, but did not reach inside. Instead, the small, purple medal rose out of it. The award floated up, then down before settling on Critter’s hairy torso. Ansaria supposed that the difference in size would have made pinning the medal by hand difficult; she had a mental image of Xandarius trying to pin the award on with fingers as large as Critter, and had to stifle a grin.
The Emperor moved down to Slog. “Private Slogulus Krunkle the Fourth, for sustaining wounds in battle in defense of this great Empire, I hereby award you the Blood Ruby; and, for meritorious conduct in the face of overwhelming danger, as well as going above and beyond the call of duty, I hereby award you with the Indigo Star, as well as the promotion to the rank of corporal, effective immediately.”
Ansaria didn’t think Slog could smile more broadly than he had when they had seen each other backstage, but she was wrong: the grin Slog had was so large that his tusks were almost lying horizontal. The accompanying droid produced another box, and Xandarius was able to pin the pair of medals to Slog without any difficulty before moving on to Alvara. She was standing just as straight as Critter had been, with her serpentine lower half tightly curled up beneath her. In that position, she was nearly eye level with Ansaria.
“Private Alvara, for meritorious conduct in the face of overwhelming danger, as well as going above and beyond the call of duty, I hereby award you with the Indigo Star, and, in recognition of your capacity as second-in-command, I hereby promote you to the rank of sergeant, effective immediately.”
Xandarius took a third box from the bot and pinned the medal on the young woman. Ansaria was close enough to Alvara to see how all this was affecting her: the Gorgonian woman’s cheeks were bright red, and Ansaria could see that her eyes were shining with tears she refused to allow to fall. She felt her own emotions beginning to well up in both empathy and pride for her friend, but swallowed hard to stay composed.
Xandarius now stood in front of Tread. “Private Tread Model Six, for meritorious conduct in the face of overwhelming danger, as well as going above and beyond the call of duty, I hereby award you with the Indigo Star; and, in recognition of your actions, which saved not only my life, but the lives on this ship and its crew, I hereby award you with the highest honor I can bestow: the Dragon Crest, as well as the promotion to the rank of sergeant, effective immediately.”
Ansaria was dumbstruck; she had certainly expected commendation for Tread after he’d saved the ship, but her synthetic friend had just been given the utmost award in Imperial service.
Xandarius took the fourth box from his assistant and attached the medals to Tread. His mechanical face was almost unreadable, but Ansaria knew him well enough to see that he was taken aback by this turn of events as well. As the Emperor affixed the Dragon Crest, Tread turned his head just a fraction and caught Ansaria’s eye. All she could do was offer the tiniest shrug of equal bafflement in return.
Finally, it was her turn. Xandarius stepped in front of her and blocked out almost everything else. He gave her an encouraging smile before turning to speak to the assembly.
“Sergeant Ansaria Dormus, for sustaining wounds in battle in defense of this great Empire, I hereby award you the Blood Ruby; and, for meritorious conduct in the face of overwhelming danger, as well as going above and beyond the call of duty, I hereby award you with the Indigo Star; finally, in recognition of your actions in leading your squad through dangers unfaced by any Imperial, and in doing so saving not just my life, but quite pos
sibly the Empire as a whole, I hereby award you with the highest honor I can bestow: the Dragon Crest, as well as the promotion to the rank of captain, effective immediately.”
If Ansaria was stunned before, now she was bordering on catatonic. The Emperor’s words washed over her, but it seemed like she was hearing it from far away, as though she was in another room overhearing everything through a wall. She found that she had forgotten to breathe and quietly tried to suck in as much air as she could. Her legs felt weak and her knees were beginning to shake, but she forced herself to remain as still as a statue.
Xandarius took the final box from the bot and pinned the three medals onto Ansaria one after the other. When he finished, Xandarius gave her another warmer, approving smile before once again turning to the crowd.
“In addition to these awards and promotions, I am also reassigning this squad to my personal honor guard, to go with me into battle side-by-side as we defend and expand this great Empire. Citizens and Soldiers all, I give you the heroes and saviors of the Empire: Oasis Squad!”
Xandarius’ words pushed Ansaria almost to the point of fainting. She wobbled a bit before returning to her previous composure. The crowd was applauding and cheering even louder than they had for the Emperor’s arrival. If this had been a crowd of civilians rather than trained soldiers, Ansaria felt like they would have rushed the stage to get closer to them.