FIRST IMPRESSIONS

I may have my faults but being wrong ain't one of them.

-Jimmy Hoffa-

15 NOVEMBER 2212
KHANNAN STATION, OLYMPUS
JOVIAN CONFEDERATION

Her name was Breanna Chan. Willowy, graceful and petite with raven-black hair and aquiline features that accentuated her spunky and confrontational nature, she could easily have passed as just another one of the thousands who had flocked enthusiastically to the JAF's banner.

As much as that was what she looked like, she wasn't half as excited as most of her peers who were seated around her aboard the shuttle that was threading its way through the gaps between the ships that seemed to hang motionlessly around Khannan Station.

She had to concede that she had been an impressionable girl for much of her teenage life. It was a trait that had diminished somewhat over the past two years - or so she would like to think. The problem is, she mused as she stared out the view port at the dormant warships that lay at 'anchor' outside, I simply don't know what to think these days.

The journey to Khannan had begun four years previously when her parents had reluctantly allowed her the opportunity of a lifetime to leave home when she turned sweet sixteen to spend a year traveling the Solar System on an internship with the Intersettlement Geographical Service.

Even before that, Breanna had wanted to spend her life out in space. Living inside a colony cylinder like Elysée Station, was simply not enough. She needed to be out there in the inky blackness with nothing more than a spacesuit or a cockpit shielding her. There was something about the hard vacuum that spoke of freedom and excitement. And it was to this same sense of wanderlust that the Chan family had 'lost' its first child. Breanna's elder sister had left home for a career in the JAF the year she was away with the IGS.

Breanna had not seen her since, though the infrequent and irregular email would assure the family that she was still alive while providing precious little else. She pushed the memory of her elder sister out of her mind. It wasn't important. It had ceased to be important a long time ago.

The year she spent with IGS had truly been an eye-opener, granting her opportunities that she could never have imagined in her younger days. Now, at the age of twenty, she had already tried her hand at piloting a spaceship and was proficient in linear frame and exo-suit operations.

Returning from her time internship had convinced her beyond a doubt that her future lay outside the meters-thick walls that surrounded her home on Elysée. Of course, with their firstborn already pursuing a life of freedom flying interceptors and exo-armors for the JAF, Breanna's parents had been anything but thrilled.

Any dreams that her parents had of her picking up a civilian career, like the illusion of continuing peace and prosperity for the Jovian Confederation evaporated the day the CEGA Navy launched its ill-fated attack on Elysée. Breanna decided that she would join the thousands of other enraged Jovians who were flocking to register for military service, reasoning that it would be far easier to ask her parents for forgiveness regarding her 'oversight' than to actually ask for their permission to enlist.

Breanna smiled humorlessly at the memory of her parents' reaction when they found out about her decision only after the JAF sent an acknowledgement letter thanking her for her interest in a military career. They had tried to get her to change her mind. But war frenzy had gripped the Confederation in 2210 and she had remained adamant.

The media had stoked the once-dormant fiery passions of Jovians like her who had believed they could live in isolation from the rest of the Solar System and there was no backing down from the threat presented by the CEGA's military. But unlike many of her peers, she didn't hate the CEGA. Not after having worked with many Earthers during her time with IGS. It was its imperialistic leaders that were the true threat. Of course, it didn't really make much difference to most of the Jovian population.

In the end, her parents' fears seemed relatively unfounded as her application for enlistment had gone unanswered. Swamped with eager recruits, the JAF found itself with the unprecedented luxury of having to choose the very best candidates first. Six months passed following the Battle of Elysée and nothing happened.

2211 came and went and still nothing happened. Having ceased her studies pending her enlistment, Breanna's snap decision to enlist slowly became an embarrassing dinner table topic that was soon best left buried. As the months of waiting stretched by, and the post-Elysée furor died down, Breanna had found her own excitement for a life in the JAF waning.

Tired of waiting for the JAF to call on her and sick of the nagging from her parents, she reluctantly took up a job as an EVA specialist, helping in the maintenance of civilian vessels that were laid up at the Tiananmen National Spaceport. It wasn't terribly exciting work, but at least she got to work out in a Decker exo-suit which meant spending a lot of time in open space.

And just when it had seemed as if the JAF had decided she had made her choice as an impulse and was willing to overlook her whimsical decision, her enlistment notice finally arrived. As an all-volunteer force, the JAF had seen a fair share of applicants changing their minds by the time they receive their enlistment notices. She could have easily written back to the JAF Personnel Department, thanking them graciously for accepting her application (albeit belatedly) and then politely telling them where they could shove the job offer and simply moved on.

But too much pride had been invested in this opportunity. And far too many harsh words had been exchanged between her and her parents. As much as she wanted to, the stubborn core of Breanna Chan's heart made it such that she could not refuse. Even if her parents were willing to forget her impulsiveness with no more than a subtle shaking of their heads and a shrug (which would be highly unlikely), Breanna knew her siblings would never let her live it down.

So it was with a troubled heart that she packed her personal effects and left her home on two days before. It was a journey that had brought her to this point, strapped into the passenger cabin of a JAF-chartered shuttle on approach towards the roost of Gamma Division.

Somewhere aboard the massive colony cylinder looming ahead of her, she would be inducted into the most powerful military in the Solar System and taught the arts of war. Not that she was particularly keen on killing, she thought to herself as the shuttle trawled past a Forge-class carrier that was preparing to get underway. No, she shook her head. She certainly never enjoyed fighting despite being incurably stubborn. She had been mad with the CEGA, at least for the couple of months following the Battle. And like many spacers before, much of the JAF's allure was due to its cutting edge technology.

The shuttle had entered Khannan Base now and she was greeted with the sight of at least a dozen warships hovering serenely in their respective docks. A small fleet of exo-suited workers and maintenance pods swarmed around the quiescent men o' war, engaged in the many tasks that Breanna had grown accustomed to in her prior employment. Surrounding each work team was a small constellation of Maintenance Robots. Breanna smiled. If the JAF's looking for more people to fix its ships, then things weren't going to be that bad, Breanna thought to herself as she admired the choreographed efficiency of the dockyard workers.

"Stand by for docking," the overhead speakers blared. "All passengers secure for docking."

She checked her own safety harness and looked out the window one last time before the shuttle complete one last turn and was swallowed up by a massive docking bay. The touchdown itself was uneventful and Breanna thought that the pilot may have been putting on a show for the benefit of the recruits aboard. Unlike most civilian flights that she had been on, the craft was had been secured in record time. A heartbeat after they were given the all clear, the shuttle's hatches opened to disgorge its human cargo. All of a sudden, everyone had thrown off their safety harnesses simultaneously, standing up to reach for the overhead baggage compartments.

Breanna retrieved her personal bag with significantly less trouble than her peers. Unlike many of them, her bag was far smaller and manageable. There wasn't a great deal to bring anyway. She didn't own much and most of what she owned was better left at home, perhaps never to be seen again. The JAF was supposed to provide for her needs from now on. Or at least, that's what the recruitment brochures said.

She waited patiently as a few other recruits struggled past her with their bulging bags. Even in the reduced gravity of the shuttle bay, those bags were still unwieldy and she was silently glad that she had left most of her stuff behind. Watching fellow recruits struggle, she wondered how some of them had managed to passed their Physical.

Of course, she vaguely knew that being medically fit had little to do with being physically fit and she recalled her own disappointment when the medical officer at the recruiting station had declared her to be a sterling specimen of a 23rd century space-dwelling human female. The Physical Examination had been her last chance to duck out of the JAF without her having to make any requests and she had passed it with flying colors.

Finally the way was clear and she stepped out into the aisle to make her way off the shuttle. She had barely made it out when she found herself being bowled over by an immense weight crashing into her back.

"Oops! Look out!" She heard someone call out several moments too late just as she tumbled face-first onto the floor, the duffel landing on top of her.

Things may have weighed next to nothing in microgravity but they still retained their mass and being struck by a duffel bag that had literally flown down the aisle was not particularly funny while careening into the deck of the thinly-carpeted aisle of the shuttle's passenger compartment still hurt.

"I'm sorry. Let me help you up." The bag was lifted off her back and she turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man offering his hand to her.

"No, thank you." Breanna said coldly as she hauled herself up, too embarrassed to say anything more caustic. A few other recruits in the adjacent aisles had paused to gawk at and she felt her ears tingling as her features flushed red. "What the hell are you all staring at? Never seen someone fall before?"

That seemed to do the trick and the spectators quickly picked up their things and launched towards the exit hatch. Breanna struggled to count to ten as she bent down to retrieve her fallen bag. She could hardly believe it. She hadn't even been sworn in and already she had come across as a clumsy fool to her peers.

"Look, I'm really sorry." The recruit who had knocked her down was repeating apologetically. "I really didn't mean it."

"You should have just watched where you were going." Breanna growled as she turned to face the man with the bulging duffel. On closer inspection, she realized that despite his height and bulk, his face was young, almost cherubic and seemingly untouched by the hardships of having to make one's own living in space. The cut of his civilian clothes told her that he certainly had not grown up lacking finances while his awkward gait told her that he wasn't really used to moving in zero gravity like she was.

"Ok, ok, fine. Like I said, I'm sorry." The man sounded a little frustrated now, throwing his hands up in exasperation and almost tipping himself over before grabbing on to a nearby seat to steady himself. "Would you want me to carry your bag? Would that make you feel better, princess?"

Breanna scowled at the sarcasm then shook her head. "No, I wouldn't have you soil my stuff, thank you very much. Besides, you've got all the grace of a cow and I'd be insane to trust you with my bag."

"Well, fine then . . ." He shrugged in exasperation, his features reddening. They stared at each other for a moment before he extended his hand once more, this time far more tentatively than before. "John Cheah."

"What?"

"That's my name. John Cheah." His mouth twitched into a wry smile. "You know, from where I come from, it's normally polite to exchange introductions."

"Oh, really. And where exactly would that be . . . John?" She eyed him suspiciously, her tone still frigid.

"Elysée, Olympus."

"Funny," Breanna said without a trace of warmth or humor. "That's where I'm from too and I don't recall having to be that friendly to strangers . . . especially the ones who've just run you down."

"Oh, fine. Suit yourself then." John rolled his eyes in disgust.

Before she could formulate a response to that, another voice, emanating from the front of the passenger cabin, interrupted them. Breanna recognized the mean-faced Corporal as the shuttle's crew chief.

"What the hell are you two clowns waiting for? An engraved invitation? You think this is some damn pleasure cruise? Get the hell out there and into formation like you're supposed to!"

The two recruits needed no further encouragement and they scrambled towards the exit hatch, the crew chief hounding them with invective all the way. They pounded down the ramp emerging from the shuttle into a scene of organized chaos. Scores of young men and women were standing in rows of varying neatness. The neatest rows belonged to those who were already standing in clumps of five, with their belongings laid out next to them. Those who fidgeted seemed to draw the attention of the hawk-eyed Sergeants and Corporals who lashed out with curses and well-placed smacks from the batons that apparently marked them as instructors.

Other instructors were calling out names and thrusting the clueless youths into similar five-person squads, occasionally plucking a particularly lost recruit and hurling him into the arms of another waiting instructor.

"Now what?" John asked as he took in the scene before him.

"Guess we ask for directions." Breanna shrugged.

"Oh, good idea! Allow me . . ." John nodded, as if still eager to redeem himself. With his heavy bag still resting on his shoulder, John shambled almost uncontrollably towards the nearest man in uniform.

Breanna felt the urge to shout a warning but she was too late. John, feet floating inches too far from the deck and unused to the burden he was carrying, slammed into the man from behind. But to her surprise and more so to John's the man somehow managed to turn at the last moment and brace himself against a nearby crate so that he barely moved.

"So sorry about this, sir!" John apologized profusely and he dropped his bag and straightened his designer clothes. He patted the uniformed man on the shoulder. "I'm still a bit new to all this zero-gee stuff. I'm wondering if you could tell me what my friend and I should be doing."

Even as Breanna glided over to the two, she found something very ominous about the look on the other man's face and the twin chevrons on his sleeve.

"First, you can get your filthy, unwashed hands off my uniform." The man in the uniform said. "Secondly, you will not call me 'sir'. I work for a living. I am the company sergeant major. And in case you don't understand what that means, it means that I'm the man who's going to make life a living hell for you as long as you're a pimply little recruit."

"Oh . . ."

"What's your name, boy?"

"Uh . . . John. My name is John." John said sheepishly while Breanna froze, suddenly recognizing the JAF man's insignia as those of a Master Sergeant. "What's yours, sir?" John added with a nervous smile.

"Silence, you scumbag! I am Master Sergeant Kruger and you do not call me 'sir'! You will address me as 'Sergeant Major'', you fat, slimy, scum-sucking piece of shit puke! You get me?"

John remained silent.

"Do you understand what I just said, boy?"

"Yes, si . . . I mean, yes, Master Sergeant!"

"Sergeant Major, damn it! God! Can't you understand anything? You will address me as 'Sergeant Major', you disgusting, bloated, stinking pile of maggot puke!" The man growled and Breanna felt her hair standing on end. "What's your full name?"

John gulped before answering, "John Cheah, Sergeant Major!"

"And what about you?" The Master Sergeant turned his burning gaze at Breanna. "What's your name, pipsqueak?"

Breanna felt her features flush red but her attempt at an angry retort was caught midway in her throat, emerging only as a rather subdued, "Recruit Breanna Chan, Sergeant Major."

Seemingly satisfied at having put the fear of God into the two recruits, the Sergeant Major whipped out his datapad and ran some queries before looking up at them again. "So you're the two pukes that Second Platoon is looking for."

"Um, ok . . . Second Platoon, right. We'll just go look for them now, Sergeant Major. Sorry for the trouble." John said shamefacedly and he hefted his bag onto his shoulder once more. "Come on, Breanna. Let's go."

"Hold it, slimeball." The Sergeant Major barked. "You ain't going nowhere! We've got enough chaos as it is, having to boot you rookie pukes around. Sergeant Pulver!"

A moment later, a JAF Sergeant, muscles bulging under the layers of his uniform glided up to Kruger. "Yes, Sergeant Major?"

"I believe I've found, or rather I've been found by your two lost sheep, Sergeant." The Sergeant Major said evenly.

The Sergeant eyed both the recruits critically for a moment, then spoke, "Recruits Cheah and Chan?"

"Yes, Sergeant, that's us." Breanna replied in place of a silent John who was smarting from the embarrassment heaped upon him.

"Now you two stick close and follow me." Pulver growled at the two recruits before turning to Kruger. "Thanks, Sergeant Major."

"You're welcome, Pulver. Now get these slimeballs out of my sight and into formation on the double. And make sure they stay out of trouble! Especially the boy."

"Yes, Sergeant Major!"

Pulver looked at the two forlorn recruits and waved them after him as he took off towards the crowd of recruits that was finally sorting themselves out. "Come on, you two. Let's go, on the double!"

Breanna and John looked at one another, John looking far less sanguine than when he was back on the shuttle. Damn, what a lousy first impression I've made, Breanna sighed as they both skipped off in Sergeant Pulver's wake towards the rapidly-straightening rows of recruits, so much for trying to keep a low-profile.