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“Ma’m the casualty reports are in.” Mech, my lieutenant says. I hurry over to the table he is sitting at, anxious. My stomach churns for who we have, and might have lost. Lost in this battle started by a petty theft. And for the record, we didn’t do it. At least the death rates are down. A small relief in a time of war. 9,000 soldiers, 5,600 came back. It was definitely a significant battle, it was on the outskirts of Orchan sector, 13-8904. The cowards retreated after six hours into the battle. This whole mess was started at lecesta. The city of kings. We were negotiating trade routes through their territory to get to terra. That’s when an alarm sounds. We were held hostage there for three days until my forces broke through at the hand of my lieutenant. War was upon us. Although we have fought many wars before, those were with terra. We’re allies now, considering the trade routes, but we’ve told them not to step in, for their sakes. “Better than last time.” I crack my knuckles. With a nod he walks out of the room. My bags are littered across my chambers. It’s a decent size, for a military place.The floors are a salmon pink, our national color. An accent wall of black and white stripes is in the back of the room My bed is in the far corner of the room, with a platform above it fitting a desk nailed to the wall. The table I’m sitting at is right in the middle with a vase filled with the marbled pink and white of the laeig flowers. They are in all the military bases for their soothing properties. They don’t calm my nerves. Marek, my assistant walks in.“Meeting day today Caersi! I wish I could go to a meeting, you get to wear cool clothes, and travel a bunch!” he walks over to my dresser. He starts rummaging through it to find my formal clothes. All Scruffy black hair and short legs, I met him on a work trip, he was my temporary guide through Hora’im, he’s great company and good at organizing and remembering things. “At least I get to travel with you to mertiace, I love seeing our capital!” Marek smiles.“Yeah, I guess it is a good place to visit,” I say. After much tribulation searching through the mess of it all, he finds it. It’s light pink. Like everything on the compound. It has pads on the elbows, and the knees. The neck is high and metallic, well underneath the leather that the rest of my body suit dawns. And on the neck is a hood, one of my favorite features, who says pink can’t be mysterious? Terrans. Terrans say that, but screw those guys, my colleagues would kill me if I said that out loud, I mentioned the whole ally thing. He holds up my formal clothes, holding them in the air.“Yay my favorite,” I say. “It’s always pink” But we are the military and our national color is pink.“I thought you’d be used to it by now, you know, considering you’ve lived here your entire life.” He giggles.“Eh,” I get up from my chair and pad over to sit on my bed. The mattress has been picked for my liking, can’t have the general falling asleep on the job. The sheets are naturally cool, I get really hot during the night. He tosses my outfit to me. “Put it on, Shari will do your hair soon.” He walks out of the room, swiping on his wrist tab. I hold up my suit. I mean, it’s a pretty good suit. I go to the changing area near my dresser and slip it on, putting my other clothes down a hatch, leading to the laundry room. I take a sip of my water bottle before reaching for my bag. It’s white. Something that isn’t pink, finally. It straps around my waist and I slide my water bottle in.I also put my knives, guns, and other small stuff in my belt. My water Is mixed with Dara extract, making it sweeter, it also keeps me energized. Something about travel puts me to sleep. My gloves rest on top of my dresser, I slide them on and start the search for my shoes.My boots rest near the door in a rack. I grab my boots, and slide them on. After I’m done with my boots, I hear footsteps outside my door.It’s Shari. Her hair has small braids around the sides, it’s new. And she’s wearing a white jumpsuit, outfitted with all the necessities for doing hair in her pockets.“I gotta do your hair Caersi, come on.” She says, a small smile forming. She always loves a challenge. It’s good to practice my pain resistance. She tries to make it easier on me but, her efforts have not worked so far.She waits in the door frame as I pad over to her. We walk to her place in the compound, her salon if you will. There isn’t much of interest in the rest of the grounds. Bluish green grass, with the occasion of scattered flowers. Dirt pathways with stones speckled here and there. Two long buildings trailing the sides, Drakini trees near every small spring of water, putting white petals in its streams. It’s quite serene for a place where we train for war. But everything about this place is intentional, the quiet calm of being outside is wonderful . There isn’t a reason for this place to be stressful or intense, it scares people away from serving in our military. We arrive at her salon, the outside is uniformed, white, with pink rimmed tops. The inside has more color.The floor is a rich brown and the walls are white with a black wall in the back. The chairs range from red to blue fabric, with cloth draped on the walls above them, just over the mirrors. As we walk in she sits me down in a chair, my favorite color. Twenty four and my sister is still doing my hair. She takes my hair and puts it in a tub of water, puts many solutions in the water, and starts to scrub.My hair matches my freckles. Shari says she wishes she had white freckles. But her hair is a dark green that goes well with her brown skin. She got most of her genes from dad anyway . Hence the green hair and being a tad taller than me. My white hair, has always been considered sacred, the ancient folk considered it to be signs of wealth, prosperity, fertility, strength, and spiritual power. My mom—who has white hair like me— has always been proud of her hair, but keeps it quite short because of her work in welding.Shari has put my hair in in a large pony in the back, from there it reaches just past my shoulders. I stand as Shari starts to tidy her workspace. Marek walks in just as I’m fluffing my hair. He’s come to escort me to my plane.
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I follow him through the compound, boots crunching in the dirt as we walk towards the Port. Five medium sized buildings with one short runway near all of them. We both head to the third one, it has a decent size craft parked at the start of its runway. It’s sleek, and pure white. It has four exact same bubble like disks making it up, the core disk houses the pilot and other technological components of the vessel. The disks on the right and left side has its thrusters. It also has a bunked room with a window peeking out from the top. The disk on the left side has a windowed ceiling with telescopes and other space navigational tools and maps, and thrusters, computers and television equipment.
This disk has more of a diamond shape on its glass roof. The disk in the back is where all equipment, food, weapons, and other necessities are stored. It also has thrusters coming from the sides, unlike the other ones on the bottom.
As we approach our space craft I feel the familiar rise of nervousness in my stomach. The doors open and the cool air is a welcome change from the humidity of the compound. It was frizzing up my hair. I inhale the smell of metal and sanitation equipment. Smells all too familiar. I’m never the one flying it though. I’ll man the guns, or be copilot. I’m not fond of being pilot, although I’m exceptional at everything. I shake the dirt from my boots as I step inside, the white lining filled with all sorts of storage containers behind glass doors. You’ll need a keycard to get in. Controls for temperature, food status, bacteria, gravity, and more line the walls. We’re heading for the right disk, or I’m heading for the right disk. After we leave the atmosphere I’m allowed to roam the cabins. My stuff has been loaded prematurely to my arrival. The bunks are standard, uniformed. I check my bags, he brought it.
A plush, light purple blanket. One of the two personal things I’m allowed to bring when I’m abroad. The second is a dagger, the leather grip has been painted the same shade of purple as my blanket. Writing carved into the handle, hand written messages from my mom. I grip it tightly and strap it at my belt. I lay the blanket neatly on the top bunk and plop down on top of it. A voice speaks over intercom,
“Passengers we’re about to take off, strap down and wait to roam the vessel until we’ve reached a neutral zone in wind currents”
The takeoff is rush of adrenaline. Pilots have been trained for any and all emergency regarding technology, navigation, traffic. But one mechanic is aboard every transportation carrier. We do not take our jobs lightly. I jump down from the bunk and peer out the window, thrusters are warming up, almost ready. Intercom.
”we’re lifting in 5 4 3”
I hustle to a chair, bolted to the wall, and strap myself in. Which I feel is an unnecessary precaution and w-
“2 1!”
And we’re lifting, the half a second feeling of weightlessness when you take off sets in. I’m good at zero gravity, but there’s always that stomach feeling. I look out the window above my head and glare at how high up we are. Already. The buildings are about the size of my hand, and growing smaller by the second.
The troops doing laps around the base are like bugs, maybe about as big an ant. I can see the entire place from here, Shari’s place, my living arrangements, the military headquarters and housing, even the entirety of the training ground is visible.
I get up and walk away from the window. I Grab the bag at my hip to find my water bottle. I take a drink, and stash it back in my bag. This is gonna be a long flight.
I’m headed to a meeting with my fellow council members. It’s just our monthly. We’re discussing statistics and other trivial matters, basic court rulings, our satisfaction with them, and most importantly, our plan to assess and heal prison groups. Our detainment centers are limited, so Shania suggested putting most of them in therapy, which could work. If They fake being well we could have criminals on the loose. There have been breakthroughs in psychology, as well as pharmaceutical matters.
So we would be able to tell, and possibly give them medication for it. But as my secondary role as public safety concern manager—first being head of warfare and tactical alliances— I have to ask a lot of questions. I think the rehabilitation of individuals who have………… lost their way, is a good starter idea for a more supported plan that doesn’t possess potential in damaging the public safety. I’m also collaborating with Eudora(head of public wellbeing/security) and vale(head of planetary resources) to advance in cyberspace security for government resources. I like Eudora and vale, but vale always has this kind of ‘holier than thou’ personality. And Eudora can try too hard to be friends with with me, I don’t want to establish relationships with a lot of people, but she tends to take that personally and her efforts in friendship have persisted.
Turbulence knocks me off balance from my bunk, I land on my feet as the pilot speaks from the intercom
Sorry about that we are experiencing some turbulence, but the cause is rather adorable!
What?
A family of poipi have interrupted the wind currents, look out the window!
I stride over to the window as what I’m assuming to be the baby’s fly right outside, they’re extremely fluffy, but they’re bound to lose that as they grow older, their horns are stubby and small. Their legs are barely visible, hidden amongst the fluff.
Favorite animal number 13: poipi, herbivorous creatures with knack for flying long distances.
Their parents follow behind, less fluffy but still adorable. Similar big eyes and round noses. They quickly pass us, and the wind remains undisturbed