The Spiral Arm (episode 1, season 1)

by Peter Boland

  *

  We follow Sergeant Merox at a brisk pace across the flight deck, crisscrossing between drop ships while trying hard not to trip over cables and scattered engine parts. My eyes are on stalks as I pass all this hi-tech kit. I’d love to get my hands on some of this stuff and take it apart.

  We reach the far wall and take a wide corridor which also has a metal bulkhead hanging above it. There are several of these passageways coming off the flight deck but this is the biggest; wide enough for three trucks abreast to drive down. As our feet clang on the metal grill flooring, I gaze up at the high ceiling, which tapers to a point, forming an ‘A’ shape with large reinforcing bars every few meters. It’s eerie and feels like I’m walking down the aisle of an ancient cathedral rather than a starship.

  Sergeant Merox turns to us as he’s marching. “Remember you are marine cadets and marines do not lose their way. Now you have maps of the ship and every deck on your com chips, make sure you use them. Understand.”

  “Yes, sir,” we say.

  “Good. Now being Section One has certain perks, namely that all your pods are brand new.”

  We take a left turn into an equally wide passage and continue marching. The corridor ends and we’re in a long rectangular hall with SECTION 1 written across the back wall leaving nobody in any doubt as to where we are.

  Everything in Section One is pristine white and clean, like being in heaven. I wonder if this is a bad omen for what’s to come.

  The first thing I notice is a row of identical thick doors, equally spaced along the left-hand wall. They run the whole length of the huge room and each one has a round porthole in the middle. I quickly count 24 of them - these must be our pods. As we get closer I see that I’m right. The first door is embossed with the Alpha symbol just above the porthole; the next door has Beta, then Gamma and so on.

  The line of doors face onto a large square space arranged with a neat grid of tables and chairs. Again, I count 24 tables, each with seven chairs. There’s a serving hatch on the opposite wall, together with some access doors, which are also white. I guess this is where each pod sits and eats. My attention is drawn by music and chatter seeping out from behind two large double doors on the wall at the back. I wonder what’s going on behind them when Merox clicks his fingers, grabbing back our attention.

  “Okay, cadets,” he says, “this is Section One where you will live, eat, relax and sleep. Those are your accommodation pods.” He points to the row of doors on the left. “And this is the mess hall.” He gestures to the tables in front of us. “0600 hours for breakfast, 1200 hours for lunch and 1800 hours for dinner. After dinner is your rec time. You can stay in your pod, go to the gym, sit out here, or play pool and drink protein shakes in the rec room, which is behind those double doors where all the noise is coming from. It’s up to you. Everyone should be in their pod by 2200 hours. No wandering about after this. Now go to your designated pod, make yourself at home. Find a bed, put your uniform away, then join me in the rec room in approximately half an hour where you can meet your fellow cadets before we leave orbit. And do not be more than half an hour. General Stone will be addressing you so don’t be late. Go to it, cadets.”

  I follow Ash to our pod, still clutching my uniform to my chest, hoping it will stop my heart pounding so hard. As we approach the door it slides up automatically with a whisper and we get our first look at our home for the next four years. Inside, it’s white everywhere from floor to ceiling. A narrow corridor leads us past three doors on the right, presumably these are bathrooms. At the end, we’re confronted by a large double-height, drum-shaped room.

  “Wow,” says Ash. “This is cool.” It’s massive compared to my mom’s apartment and I feel bad for getting excited. Around the curved edge of the room, punched into the wall about halfway up, are the sleeping compartments; fanning out like spokes on a wheel. You have to climb a little ladder to reach them. Below each compartment are drawers and cupboard spaces. At the centre of the room, like a giant hub, sits a large white round table surrounded by seven fixed high-backed seats.

  “Er, there are seven sleeping compartments and only one room,” I say.

  “So?” Ash replies.

  “Does that mean boys have to share with girls?”

  “Seems like it.”

  I haven’t got time to get bashful about the thought of everyone seeing my scrawny little body. Someone else is in the room with us.

  “Hi,” says a voice from above. Ash and I look up to see a pair of large slender feet dangling out of one of the sleeping compartments. A second later the person they belong to slides out and jumps down onto the floor. A female Norse goddess lands in front of us. “I’m Tuss,” she says in a sing-song Australian accent.

  She is the polar opposite of me - blonde and tall, even taller than Ash. Her hair is long, thick and golden, and she has icy blue eyes. I notice Ash swallows as he shakes her hand. She cuts an intimidating figure with her swimmer’s shoulders and gymnastic body, but her smile is warm and her eyes have a kindness about them.

  “I’m from Perth. Where are you guys from?”

  “Brooklyn,” Ash says.

  “Chicago,” I say.

  That’s the only chance we have to speak. Tuss talks non-stop, filling us in on everything that’s happened since she got here including the minor details. I don’t mind though. I’m grateful for the distraction; I think my mind might melt if I start thinking about my predicament.

  I find an empty bed and start putting my stuff away in the drawers below while Tuss continues her monologue.

  “Hey,” she says suddenly, “would you like me to sort your uniform out for you?”

  “Sorry?” I say.

  “I can sew it for you, make it fit better.” Then her face drops. “Oh, I mean, only if you want.”

  I look down at my baggy uniform. “Could you?” I ask.

  “Sure.” She jumps up and leaps across the room barely touching the floor or making a sound as she moves. Opening a hatch near the entrance corridor, she pulls out a medical kit, cleaning equipment and various other essentials. “I know it’s in here somewhere, ah, here it is.”

  She returns with a small sewing kit and goes to work on one of my spare uniforms, biting open the stitching with her teeth. “I’ll just do one for now,” she says, “so it’ll give us time to get to the rec room.” She starts sewing my uniform together, focusing like this is the most important thing in the world.

  I look at Ash who raises his eyebrows, not in shock, more in wonder. I don’t think either of us has met anyone like Tuss before.

  “There,” she says, holding up my top and pants. I don’t know anything about tailoring but she hasn’t measured me once. I hope she hasn’t just ruined my uniform. She hands it to me. “Well, aren’t you going to try it on?”

  Heat prickles my cheeks. They both stare at me expectantly. I’m not confident enough to strip off in front of two people I’ve only just met, especially as one of them is a boy. Call me old-fashioned, it’s not very 23rd century, I know.

  “Thanks, Tuss. This looks perfect. Er, I just need to use bathroom, so I’ll change in there. You know. Kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Oh, okay,” says Tuss innocently, not reading the embarrassment in my face.

  “Take your time,” says Ash.

  Inside the bathroom I slip out of my knotted T-shirt and put on the one that Tuss has altered. It fits perfectly. Then I try the pants. They too are perfect. I check myself out from every angle in the mirror. Somehow, Tuss has even managed to camouflage my boyish frame, nipping my t-shirt in at the waist, giving me subtle curves. I see my smile reflected back at me; I almost look human.

  “Tuss, this is amazing,” I say, rushing back to the round table where the two of them sit. I can’t contain my happiness; she’s made me look normal. Tuss seems as overjoyed as I am – happy that she’s made me happy. I get this feeling that Tuss is one of those people who is good at everything. I think I’ve made two g
ood friends today. For someone who’s used to having no friends that’s an all-time record.

  “So,” she says, “ready to go to the rec room, meet the rest of the pod?”

  “Oh, er, I was just going to sit in my sleeping compartment and read,” I say.

  “Are you kidding me?” says Tuss. “You can’t stay here on your own.”

  “She’s right,” says Ash. “Plus the General’s giving a speech. You’ll have Merox on your case if you miss it.”

  General Stone, the scary wolfman – I’d be crazy to offend him by not showing up.

  “Oh, okay,” I say, realizing I can’t duck out of this one.

  “Let’s do it,” Ash says.

  We leave our pod and walk past all the others. Peering in through each porthole they appear to be empty. Everyone must be in the rec room and as we approach the double doors the noise swells. It sounds rowdy. My butterflies go haywire. Crowds. I’m not good at dealing with them at the best of times.

  Tuss pushes open the doors, the noise level leaps and the heavy beat of trance music slaps me in the ears. The place is full of ridiculously tall muscular cadets, over-excited and oozing with self-confidence. I walk amongst them as if I’m in the land of the giants.

  There’s a line of booths like you get in a diner along one wall. Each one is stuffed with cadets and some are sitting on the tables. In front of the booths are a handful of pool tables, but nobody’s playing. They’re leaning on them, busy chatting and getting acquainted. An arm-wresting competition is taking place on one of them. Cadets crowd round, violently screaming encouragement. On the other side of the room, a cadet grins manically while others queue up to hit him in the stomach, to prove how rock hard his abs are. Brightly lit vending machines line the opposite wall, serving protein shakes and little energy snacks. Some cadets are having drinking competitions to see who can down theirs the fastest.

  I am a fish out of water. Forget that, I’m a not even a fish. I’m the tiniest tadpole that’s as far from water as it’s possible to be.

  Weird stares greet me as we move through the crowd. People look at me as though I’m a lost child who’s wandered into the grown-ups area. I stick close to Tuss, hoping she’ll shield me like a parent, but I quickly realize Tuss is popular. She seems to know everyone already and flits from one group to another, fist-bumping people and calling them by their first names. Meanwhile, I stand around like a piece of very small furniture.

  “How do you know all these people?” I ask, as we head for the next group of cadets she’s aiming to socialize with.

  “Oh, you know, just got chatting.” I wonder how this is possible seeing she hasn’t even been here for a day.

  I want to find somewhere to hide and be alone. Ash asks me if I want a drink and I nod. We head over to the machines and he chooses some weird concoction made of berries, herbs and milk protein. It doesn’t taste too bad and it’s good to have something in my hands to stop me feeling so nervous.

  Ash stands beside me surveying the scene. I try to think of something to say but my mouth won’t work. I hope I’m not cramping his style when he’d rather be mingling with everyone instead of babysitting me. He waves at a group of people he recognizes.

  “There are some guys from my school. Mind if I just say hello?”

  “Not at all. I’ll wait here.”

  I slowly sip my shake even though my nerves are killing any hunger I have. Watching everyone chatting and being sociable, I’m amazed at how they do it with such ease. It’s like a different language to me. I feel my legs slowly taking me off into the corner so I can fade into the background, hoping no-one will notice me. But someone does.

  A group with Beta One written across their shirts pushes past; then one of them does the briefest of double takes, stops and stands in front of me. I look up from my shake to see the confused and angry face of Sagan Philips.

  “What the hell,” he says. “Hey, hold on, guys,” he shouts at his pod. They all return and fan out around me. Yan and Eli are also in his pod; the rest of them I don’t recognize.

  “Oh no,” says Yan, “What’s she doing here?”

  “Hi, guys,” I say weakly. Why the hell am I being friendly? There’s no way this is going to end well so why bother pretending otherwise.

  “Who’s this?” asks a girl next to Sagan. She has a hard square face and small black eyes.

  “Vena this is Wren Harper, our school freak.”

  Vena lets a hiss of laughter escape from between her teeth. “Wren? Aah, like a little lame bird,” she says in a babyish voice. They all laugh and I feel like I’m right back at school again.

  “So what the hell are you doing here?” Eli demands. He and Max were best buddies and I can guess how this is going to go.

  “Er, I don’t know.” It’s the truth and I really don’t know what else to say.

  “But you didn’t get called up,” says Eli. “I mean, how?”

  “I came back home and a marine transport was waiting, told me I’d been selected.” There’s no way I’m telling him I was picked up by my uncle and General Stone in a marine limo.

  Eli moves in closer to me. “You mean you got picked and Max didn’t.”

  “Listen, I have no idea why Max didn’t get picked. I don’t know why I’m here. Maybe they want me for my technical stuff.”

  “That’s bull,” says Sagan. “How come you’re an Alpha? We’re not even Alphas. Something don’t smell right. You know what I think? You cheated. You hacked the results, took Max’s name out and put yours in. Just to get back at him.”

  “No, no, I’d never do that. This is the last place I want to be.”

  “Yes you would. You’re the only one who knows how to do something like that. He should be here, not you.”

  “I know he should …” I say, but Sagan cuts me off.

  “What do you think Eli?”

  “I think Harper needs to go straight back to Earth where she belongs.”

  Sagan turns to Vena. “Your first assignment: put this lame bird out of its misery. We’re still in orbit, just blow her out of an airlock and she’ll find her own way home.” They all laugh. “Take her down an empty corridor, beat the crud out of her then send her packing.”

  “Understood,” Vena replies, as if she’s talking to an officer.

  The rest of Beta Pod walk off without giving me a second look. Vena grabs me by the arm. Her grip is tighter than a tourniquet, making me drop my drink all over my clean boots. I haven’t got time to worry about it, as I’m frog marched into a nearby service corridor.

  “Please, you’re not seriously going to do this,” I say, suddenly panicking.

  “Oh, yes,” Vena replies. “Sagan’s my pod leader and I need to prove my loyalty to him. It’s nothing personal. Actually, it is personal. I don’t like you either so I’m going to enjoy carrying out Sagan’s orders.”

  “You know Sagan’s a psycho, right?”

  “We’re all psychos, honey. Why else would we be here? We’ll just be better trained psychos at the end of it.”

  I struggle against her grip, trying to yank myself away from her. She’s far too strong even though she’s holding me with one hand. Changing tactics, I make a grab for door handles and anything else that will slow our progress, like a cat clawing at carpet. It makes no difference and we keep on moving. She’s an irresistible force, impossible to stop.

  Surely she’s just trying to scare me or teach me a lesson, but something in that cold robotic voice of hers tells me she’s serious and desperate to impress Sagan.

  “This’ll do.” She shoves me up against a wall and makes a fist, pulls back her arm ready to strike me in the face. The sound of Tuss’s voice stops her.

  “Hey,” Tuss says. “What are you doing to my friend?”

  I’m thrown to the floor. Vena steps over me to confront Tuss. “Back off, blondie,” Vena says blocking her way. “You won’t win,” she says, right up close to Tuss’s face. “I hold five black belts in Jujitsu,
Kung Fu, Kickboxing …”

  Vena never gets to finish her list. With the speed of a jackhammer, Tuss rapidly head butts Vena three times in the face. Vena crumples to the floor like a wet paper bag.

  “Only five black belts?” says Tuss. “Looks like you could do with a few more.” Come on, Wren. Let’s get out of here.” She grabs my hand and pulls me up. We leave Vena in a dazed heap as blood Niagras out of her nose.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “No problem,” says, Tuss. “Come on, we need to hurry. General Stone is about to give his welcome speech, it’ll look bad if we’re not there.”

  We rush back along the corridor and into the rec. I’m still trying to process what could’ve just happened if Tuss hadn’t showed up. Would Vena really have thrown me out of an airlock? The shocking thought rises up inside me like a whale breaching the ocean, threatening to crash down on top of me.

  Tuss is dragging me along, while I fight the urge to go into shock. We push through the door and are back in the rec. The noise is still deafening and nervous anticipation fills the room. Weird thoughts slosh around in my head making me go woozy.

  I see Ash in front of me. He’s standing with a group of five other cadets who turn to face me. They all wear the same T-shirts - so this is my pod.

  I need to pull it together. I’m a nervous wreck but I don’t want them to know that. First impressions count and I don’t want them to think I’m a wuss who doesn’t deserve to be here – even though that’s what I am. I adopt my default pose and look at the floor.

  An extended hand comes into my field of vision and I’m forced to look up and see who it belongs to. Before me is a boy with short-cropped hair and a face that’s older than his years.

  “I’m Bryson Temple. You must be Wren,” he says and we shake hands. His grip is firm but not aggressive. He gives me a diplomatic smile. If he’s disappointed that the seventh member of his pod is a little on the short side, he’s doing a good job of covering it up. “And this is Essa.”

  A girl with a black bob nods at me. She, on the other hand, makes no attempt to conceal her disappointment. Looking me up and down from head to toe, I see a little sneer in the corner of her mouth. She was obviously expecting a lot more.

  “Wren, welcome to Alpha Pod One,” says Bryson. For a fifteen-year old he talks like he’s forty-five. This guy is definitely the self-appointed leader of Alpha Pod. “You’ve already met Ash and Tuss, that only leaves Lars and Matheson.”

  Matheson grins at me with a warm charming smile. “Delighted to meet you. Call me Maths,” he says, in a plumy well-educated English accent, “everyone else does.” Maths flicks his floppy chestnut hair out of his eyes. I can’t help but smile back, won over by his effortless charm.

  Lars, however, is colder than an arctic winter. He has small blue eyes and thin red hair scrapped over his pale face.

  The assembled members of Alpha Pod One look at each other, grinning confidently. I, on the other hand, am trying to suppress my paranoia that they’re all thinking who the hell is this strange little hobbity girl? While also trying not to faint.

  “This calls for celebration,” says Maths, lightening the mood. “Who’s for a drink? I’ll get them in. Lend us a hand, Lars.”

  Lars makes no expression but follows Maths over to the drinks machines. They return with armfuls of protein shakes and I take mine, grateful to have something to hold in my hands again. I take a gulp but the sweet gloopy liquid sticks in my throat when I swallow.

  The music suddenly stops and we hear Sergeant Merox over the loud speakers. Everyone in the room turns to the stage where he’s standing next to General Stone.

  “Marine cadets,” Merox shouts. We all snap to attention with our arms by our sides. Again, I’m last to cotton on, but I’m getting quicker. “General Stone will now address you.”

  General Stone walks to the front of the stage and holds his hand up. “At ease, ladies and gentlemen.” We relax. “Well, here we are. The famous Section One, here on the most famous ship in the fleet. Now I bet you’re expecting a big chest-beating, rousing speech from me, telling you how great you are and how you’re all going to kick some Dormangi ass.” There are a few whoops and cheers. “There’s plenty of time for that. We are not at that stage yet. You are not at that stage yet. We are 600 light-years from that. You are not ready. A lot needs to happen before you are. Four years of hard training. And then maybe, just maybe. Some of you will be ready to face the Dormangi.

  “Just because you are on this ship does not guarantee you a pop at them. You heard me right. Only the people we think are good enough get to fight. Now you may think because you are in Section One it means your place is a dead cert. It’s not. In fact, your place in this section is not guaranteed. From tomorrow everything your pod does and says will be analyzed and scrutinized and allocated points. The better your pod performs, the more points it earns. Your pod can go up as well as down. Look to your left and you’ll see a league table.”

  I turn to see a large holo projection appear in front of the wall. It’s a vertical list of all twenty-four pods in Section One, from Alpha Pod at the top, right down to Omega Pod at the bottom. Next to each is a box marked with a zero.

  “This league table will be updated every second of the day. Marks will be added as instructors see fit. That means the position of your pod will change. Now Alpha Pod One is currently at the top because it is considered to have the best cadets. But from tomorrow that position is up for grabs. What’s more, your place in Section One is up for grabs too. At the end of each semester there will be a relegation. If your pod hits the bottom of the league at the end of the semester then it goes down and swaps places with a pod from the next section. They come up to Section One and you go down to Section Two. Same happens all over the ship in every section.

  “Now there are over 50,000 cadets on board this vessel and let me tell you, those lower sections are hungry. Boy, are they hungry. They want nothing more than to swap places with you and see you go down. Survive the relegation and at the end of the semester you will have the opportunity to be the first cadets on the ship to take part in a real mission inside one of our state-of-the-art War Theatres. Remember, work hard, learn hard, think hard. That will be all.”

  General Stone leaves the stage followed by Merox. The room is strangled by silence and the party atmosphere that once filled the room has been snuffed out. The abrupt ending to the General’s speech has us all looking at each other with puzzled faces.

  I stare at the league table floating there above the pool tables and wonder how in the world I’m going to prevent myself from dragging my pod all the way to the bottom, denying them the chance of a trip to a War Theatre. I don’t know what it is, but it sounds terrifying.

  Chapter 6