-1-
I awoke the clammering of feet below my bunk. How many people could they cram in one ship? How many more god damn days until I can finally walk more than five feet within any direction? It had already been tw- well, it had been what had seemed like twenty days but I knew it had only been a week. They told us that it's dangerous to be dormant for too long. Rather than having to find something to do during the whole six month voyage, the crew would be put into comas for periods of a month at a time. Any longer and the soldier begins losing muscle. Not that they're all soldiers. In fact, the majority of them on here are Marines. I overheard a Sergeant at AT say "The only difference between a Terran Marine and a Terran Soldier is the contents of the respective skull". I hadn't agreed with him until I was amongst them. A terrible idea, really. Who the hell would take 4,000 soldiers, 7,000 Marines, and 2,000 airmen and throw them into an old Commercial Transporter? Oh well. This was going to be a 'glass half full situation' no matter the contents of the glass. And I knew this was my last rotation. My last coma and my last time awake, well truly awake. The quartering wasn't that bad, really. They would throw us in some somber corner of a carefully organized barrack room in the cargo bay. These ships used to transport commercial goods. Now instead of Nanites and supplies for scientific research facilities, they carry thousands of men to fight a war in a forgotten corner of the Galaxy.
I feel as if it were ages ago that I received my commission as a 2nd Lieutenant. That's what this ship does: make a day last an eternity. A crewmember wearing bright scarlet fatigues entered the room and took everyone's attention. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," the room responded with a lazy reply, saying the same to the crewmember. "The Captain reports that Auraxis less than a day away. So, gather your things and be ready to disembark at 0600 tomorrow, understood?," And the room replied with a similar relaxed inclination "Yes, Lieutenant". "Hey, butter bar!" It was SFC. Rucker (or Fucker, as I had heard him been called by the junior enlisted).
Haldane: "What is it, F- Rucker?"
Rucker: "If he's a Lieutenant, then why does he have that gold clover thing? I thought that was for majors."
Haldane: "I'm not sure, entirely, Rucker".
Rucker: "Why don't you have that clover thing, Haldane?"
Haldane: "I guess the insignia is different for each branch."
Rucker: "Do you think it means he's more important than you?". Knowing, I would never win, I rolled back into my bunk and closed my eyes.
My platoon had 49 soldiers. And it was mine, holy damn. Sure, there were those above me, ordering me around, and those below me: micromanaging and such but these 49 men were mine. At first the responsibility frightened the living shit out of me. I could get all of these guys killed, you know. Eventually, the fear of leadership evolved into the pride of leadership. I had many great Officers in my life and had seen first hand how much respect their men had given them. I should know, my father is one himself.
My father never impended upon me that I should join the army but I felt it was all I could do to make him proud. He was a necessity for his subordinates, a necessity for his country but most of all a necessity for his son. He would always send his holograms and it would feel as if he were right at home but every son wishes to play ball with his dad and by the time he had returned: I was just an angsty teenager who cared more about what everyone else was doing rather than the likes of his own father. I guess you could say it was payback. Payback for all those years he had been away. I knew it killed him, more so than the actual wounds he had sustained from his time as a ground soldier. I enjoyed it, though, deliberately spiting him for the sake of my vengeful nature. My mother tried to bond with me, God bless her, I wouldn't give her the light of day. Those were my teenage years, though. At least by the last year of Primary School, I had wised up and repaired my relationship with my father. His reassignment to Earth was truly a blessing.
At the time, he was a Lt. Colonel with the 1st Terran Rangers Battalion. Arguably, one of the most elite outfits in the Terran Republic's Arsenal. He commanded 1,300 highly trained killers in one of the most dangerous regions of Auraxis. They were doing good work up there, keeping their region clear of insurgent presence, the same couldn't be said for the surrounding regions. The Vanu insurgents ambushed convoys, raided Terran bases at night, and for the most part had the Republic by the balls. This displeased my father, that his good work was undermined by the others who hadn't done as well in protecting their regions. So, disobeying a direct order to remain in his region, my father ordered his Rangers into the hills of a neighboring region where it was believed the insurgents were residing. Scouts from his unit reported the whereabouts of the Vanu camp was an abandoned mining plant. How in the hell have they not wiped these fuckers off the planet yet? And of course, being the man my father is: sent his battalion into the camp and did just what he had wished the others had done. The camp was cleared and the Rangers sustained extremely limited casualties. Upon returning to his region, my father was met by a Field Marshal and his staff. The Field Marshal congratulated my father on his victory and reminded him of his orders. When asked what he was thinking, my father merely responded "Nuts, sir", thus he was transferred to some sort of intelligence position, he didn't like it much but he did enjoy being home, so for that he was grateful.