by Peter Boland
*
I’m in the chair but I can’t get the restraining bar down. It won’t lock in place and keeps popping back up again. The whole ship vibrates as we lift off. I’m frightened it’s suddenly going to accelerate and squish me against the back door, killing me and extinguishing my last thread of dignity, if I had any left.
“You need to yank it down hard,” the boy opposite says, shouting over the noise. I follow his instructions and whip the bar down. There’s a delicious clunk as it locks in place. I can relax, sort of.
“I’m Ash,” he says with a smile. “Ash Kovak.” His face is pale while his hair is black and rich like dark chocolate. It matches his eyes, which curl up at the corners every time he smiles.
“Wren Harper.” I try to smile back but it comes out all lopsided.
“Sorry about those idiots back there.”
“Oh, er, thanks for stepping in. I appreciate it.”
“Hey, no problem. I had a few tears when I said goodbye to my mom and dad today. Then a few more when they stuck the new chips in my hand.”
We laugh.
“Yeah that kinda stung,” I say.
We spontaneously rub the backs of our hands. I think I’ve made a friend. Actually, I hope I’ve made a friend and tell myself not to screw this up by saying something dumb. Socializing, as you can probably guess, is not my strong point. I desperately search my mind for things to say.
The roaring engines suddenly go quiet as we break orbit. My mind goes blank and an uncomfortable silence grows between us. I do my usual thing of looking at the floor when I can’t think of anything to say.
“So you’re Alpha One too,” he says eventually.
I raise my eyes and force the words out. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“We did alright,” he replies. “Tell me, did you have any idea you’d get into Alpha? I mean what stats did you get?”
Damn. Here’s where it all goes wrong. I look at him like a rabbit about to be run over. I swallow hard and think about what to say. All the time he’s looking at me waiting for an answer. I have to say something and I’m a terrible liar, so I come clean.
“I’m, er, I didn’t know I’d even be a cadet until a couple of hours ago.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No. Came as quite a shock. I’m probably the least likely person to be picked.” I keep laughing nervously after everything I say.
“But you must have done all the pre-Call-Up training and assessments?”
“Nope.” I laugh nervously again. I’m sure he’s going to start to hate me.
“Wow. I mean it’s amazing. I’ve never heard of that before.”
“Yeah, I guess I must be pretty special.” Why the hell did I just say that? Now he probably thinks I’m some sort of ego-maniac. “Sorry, that sounded really big-headed.”
“No. Don’t worry about it.”
Another awkward silence. This time I pluck up the courage to speak first.
“So how does it work, the whole Greek alphabet thing? I mean what’s the difference between an Alpha and an Omega?”
“Oh my God, of course, you probably don’t know any of this.”
“No, none of it.” I have tried to get hold of the technical manuals for combat starships but they’re all classified. I’m sure I could’ve hacked into their database if I’d tried, but if you get caught it’s a one-way ticket to Kepler or prison. I guess that doesn’t matter now.
“Well. Each combat starship has sections,” Ash explains. I watch his large hands as they act out what he’s saying. “There are hundreds of sections on board; the number varies depending on which ship we’re posted to. Nobody knows which one it will be. It’s kept secret until we get there.
“Anyway, each section is made up of pods; they’re the fighting groups you’re put in. They’re named after the Greek alphabet, Alpha to Omega. There are seven cadets to a pod. Now, the pod you’re in is like a rank. You know, how good they think you are. Omega being the lowest and Alpha being the highest. The sections are ranked too – Section One is the highest, then Section Two, Section Three and so on. You and me, we’re in Alpha Pod One. That’s the highest ranking pod, in the highest ranking section there is. Wren, out of thousands of cadets, you and I are in the top pod.”
My mouth opens so wide that I think my tongue’s going to fall out.
“What?”
“We’re in the top pod on the ship. When you said you’re something special, you were right. We’re Alpha Pod One - the best there is.”
Right on cue the ship accelerates, lurching forward, engines growling, adding to the dramatic effect of what Ash’s just said. Despite the restraining bar, I’m thrown sideways and squished into my seat. The ship rattles so hard my teeth feel like they’re going to shake lose. I’d be panicking if I didn’t have something else on my mind.
Me? The best? Surely there’s some mistake. This whole thing has been a mistake.
As soon as my ego gets the better of me and I start thinking, hey, maybe I am something special, reality gatecrashes the little party in my head and pees in the punch bowl. I realize this whole thing has to be because of my uncle. He’s probably pulled a few strings to get me into the top pod. It’s got nothing to do with being some special warrior or having hidden talents or superpowers I never knew. It’s just good old nepotism. I slump down in my seat, or at least I try to. The ship’s velocity pulls me sideways, making it impossible to slouch.
“Tell me,” I ask, raising my voice. “Can cadets get ranked higher if they know the right people?”
“I’m sure it happens. It’s not a good idea, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“They’d get found out within a few days on board. The training’s pretty harsh and it would soon show if you hadn’t earned your place.”
As I said before, my day just keeps getting better and better.
That’s it then. I’ve had it. All I can look forward to is more humiliation. Soon it will become clear to everyone on board that I’m a complete fake who’s only here because her demented uncle thought it was a good idea to put his lightweight, insomniac, hypochondriac freak of a niece among the planet’s elite forces.
I feel sick.
“Are you okay?” Ash asks.
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing down the sour taste in my mouth.
The tone of the engine changes and everything stops rattling. I wonder if I should go upfront and ask the pilot to turn around, or even better, just let me out and burn up as I re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere. It’d probably be less painful than the four years I’m about to endure.
Our com screens pop up, telling us we are about to land. I have a swarm of killer butterflies going crazy in my stomach.
The ship decelerates and then there’s a jolt. Everyone wobbles as the jump ship touches down. Though I’m scared as hell and dread being found out, a tiny part of me is thrilled to be in space on a state-of-the-art combat ship. At least I’ll be surrounded by techie stuff, which gives me an idea: once they see how bad I am, maybe I could help out as an auxiliary, fixing stuff on board. Now that would be cool. This thought makes me feel a little better.
Our restraining bars flip up automatically. Everyone grabs their spare kit and heads to the rear door, which is now lifting.
We file out down the ramp and I nearly put my neck out, craning up at the seriously, no ridiculously, large flight deck.
We’re inside the combat ship.
In front of us, a gargantuan metal door, towering about ten stories high and just as wide, closes with an almighty thump, making everyone and everything shake. This must be the airlock we flew in through. Above the vast doors are carved the words TITUS ANDRONICUS.
“It’s the Andronicus. We’re on the Andronicus,” says Ash, spotting the writing. Actually, it’s impossible to miss.
I know this name; it’s from a Shakespeare play I read a few years back. Titus Andronicus was a vicious Roman general bent on the bloody destruction of the
barbarian Goths. A fitting name for a combat ship. Trouble is, the play ends in terrible tragedy. I hope the person who named this ship meant it to be ironic not prophetic.
“This is beyond awesome,” says Ash. “It’s famous, the oldest ship in the fleet, nearly 50 years old.” Ash gazes around the mammoth space, not worried about his mouth hanging open. Mine is too, and so are the other cadets’. It’s a vast cathedral to human engineering, like being in the belly of a giant metal beast.
Scattered around us, hundreds of other drop ships are being fussed over by technicians. The place echoes with the sounds of drilling and welding and grinding metal. The floor is damaged and rusty, patched up with mismatched sections of sheet metal. The drop ship we came in on looks fairly new but as my eyes begin to focus I notice that the other ships, like the floor, are held together with a patchwork of steel plates and hurried welding. The news reports don’t show this. Perhaps the war’s not going as well as people on Earth think.
At the back, high above the flight deck sits a large viewing window with marines working at holo-consoles. Above the window another massive metal bulkhead hangs.
“This has seen some battles,” Ash says.
“Looks like it,” I say.
“This ship’s lucky. It always comes back. This must be its thirteenth tour of duty.”
Unlucky thirteen. Fate has been well and truly tempted. Good I’m not superstitious.
“Cadets, attention!” A short man with a big mouth and a shiny head marches toward us. Scary as he is, it’s reassuring to see someone around my height for a change. Everyone jumps and clicks into a line, apart from me of course. I stand for a second wondering what to do. Then I copy the rest of them and slot myself next to Ash. We stand looking straight ahead. It would feel like playing at statues if I wasn’t so nervous.
“I am Sergeant Merox and I know what you’re thinking. Tell me what you’re thinking, Cadet?” he says to the Omega girl who was nasty to me on the drop ship.
“Er,” says the Omega girl.
“Not, er. It’s Sir. Now what are you thinking?”
“Nothing, Sir.”
“Nothing?” He sighs and puts his hand on his hips. “Then you are no good to me. I need marines who think. I don’t need stupid. Stupid gets dead. Understand. A dead marine is no good to me.”
He slides up the line missing everyone else out and stops at me.
“You look smart. Smart and small like me.” He scans me with his com chip, I see my name appear in reverse through the back of his screen together with loads of stats which I can’t read. “Now, Cadet Harper, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I should do everything you tell me, Sir,” I say, hating the sound of my own voice.
“Are you sucking up to me, Cadet?”
“No, Sir.”
“Yes you are.”
“Okay, yes I am, Sir.”
“Good. An honest answer at last. Here is your first lesson. You will tell me the truth. Always. Do not lie to me. I know if you are lying. I do not like liars. I do not like suck ups, smart asses, show offs, cheats and bullies – bullying is my job and I am very good at my job. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” we all say.
“You have all made it into Section One. The best section. My section. Do not disappoint me. Welcome to the United Earth Marine Ship Titus Andronicus. Follow me.”
Chapter 5