Good Soldiers
Light reflected off of the swim tubes and onto the wall, creating a moving mosaic across the room. The lights were darkened, and as he sat on his bed, he stared at nothing in particular. But his mind was racing a mile-a-minute. It always was. He could never quite figure out a way to make his brain stop working, stop crunching numbers and constantly reviewing his last mistake on his latest project. But he knew now that that would have to change.
His world had crashed down around him without his permission, and now he was here, being forced to make a decision. To change. Lucas hated change. First it was his family splitting up. Then his father had shipped him off to seaQuest without a backwards glance. And now this.It didn't bother him, not knowing every new innovation in science, every new physics theory or chemical element. Hell, he didn't care if he couldn't name all of the new confederations on a flippin map. What bothered him the most was not knowing who won the Super Bowl last year, or where the last Olympics took place. God, he just wanted to feel like a part of this "brave new world."
But he wasn't. This was a strange, new place to him. And even though he was still in his same bunk on good old seaQuest, it wasn't home. Not anymore.
Stop, he told himself. You're a soldier now, not a scientist. You have to stop dreaming. Good soldiers don't dream, do they. They fight. They kill. They obey orders. They definitely don't play with dolphins and hack into secure UEO files. That part of his life was over. Done with. Finit. In the past. Gone. Like so many things in his life, his youth was gone. Gone like Bridger; gone like his father; gone like his safety net and his whole world. Gone.
He looked at the chronometer beside his bed. 10:13. Just a few more hours and he would begin his first shift as a UEO ensign. Serial number E545329. He would become a number. A clone. A nameless body fighting for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Never. The thought sprung into his head before he could stop it. He would not let himself become a clone. Never would he be just another casualty of war, a name on some memorial that no one would ever distinguish from the next. As hard as Hudson might push and prod and yell and scream, Lucas Wolenczak would never become a clone.
A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts and he flicked on the lights as he walked to the door. Opening it, he found an empty hallway. He was about to close the door when he noticed the package lying on the ground.
He eyed it carefully as he brought it inside and shut the heavy metal door. It was small, only about the size of a jewelry box. Ripping off the plain brown paper, he opened it and gasped.
Ensign stripes. Captain Bridger had left Lucas his ensign stripes. With tears in his eyes, he unfolded a handwritten note.
I will, sir, he thought as he set the box down and moved to his closet. After he had dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror. The blue uniform made him look older somehow. It was strange, like he was seeing his head on someone else's body. It took a few minutes to get the idea through to his mind that it was actually his reflection staring back form the mirror; he had the idea that it was going to take a lot longer than that for the rest of the crew to get used to seeing him like that.
It would take time, but he could do it. Now he knew he could. He had to; who else was going to keep this boat running?