Chapta Fwree:The Imperials
Say of Da Day: "My mother married a man three centuries older than herself!"– Private Marco Fezz
On the moon Oblivious, above Octavius Three, was a small Imperial Guardsmen outpost. Oblivious was manned with a mere two hundred guardsmen including officers and scientists; the outpost was a small research station on the outer edges of the Imperium. The outpost also served as a listening post; it was far from the front lines of the more important interstellar wars, and kept watch on the mostly empty space in the area. In other words, it was a lump of rock where no one wanted to go.
Three officers sat behind a table draped in a white table cloth. They all wore formal uniforms, and each had a stack of paper sitting in front of them. On a lone seat, exactly one and a half metres in front of the officers, sat Private Marco Fezz. Marco wore his service uniform, neatly ironed. His neat brown hair was mostly hidden beneath his hat, and his moustache was to the regulated size. The officers flicked through a phycology exam handed in by Private Fezz.
"Commodore," spoke the youngest of the three officers in a quiet voice, "you may be interested in page three, question eleven, of the psychology exam, sir."
The commodore, an elderly man whose hair was white but still thick and short, nodded in reply. His right eye socket was encased in metal; a bionic eye was implanted within the casing. The commodore flicked through the paper to page three, and mumbled to himself question eleven. "What comes to your mind when you think of our immortal Emperor?"
Marco was feeling less and less comfortable by the minute; he had been sitting on his chair for over seven minutes now, in total silence. No one asked him questions, no one spoke to him. The three officers just sat there, sifting through three copies of his psychology and aptitude tests. Every now and then the commodore's bionic eye would stare at him. He tried not squirm uncomfortably, but the tension was beginning to work on Marco's nerves.
The commodore spent several seconds in silence reading Marco's test answer before, for the first time, he lifted his head and looked at Marco with both eyes. "…Grapes."
Marco visibly twitched. He wasn't sure if the commodore wanted him to speak, or just sit there. "Uh… I can explain sir…"
The Emperor of the human race, of the Imperium, was considered a god among men. He was kept alive using the most sophisticated and secretive methods only known to a handful of humans. Each of the Emperor's words were considered to be worth more than ten thousand times that of a chunk of platinum. Anyone who did not follow the way of the Imperium, and honour the Emperor in every possible way, were considered heathens. Heathens, in this age, were on the Imperium's hit list.
The commodore put the papers down, and pulled out a cigar. "Please, do explain, private." He said while lighting his cigar.
This was the chance Marco had been waiting for; whether it would do him harm, or help him, he was glad to break the silence. "Well, Commodore sir," Marco spoke timidly, "It's more of a metaphor to me than a real, er, thought, I suppose. As we all know the Emperor is immortal, yet his body is said to be as older than most of the colonies themselves. And when I think of old people… I think of sultanas, and prunes, because most old people get wrinkly skin… and uh… a sultana is a dried up grape… and grapes in ancient times were eaten by royalty… immortality… not dried up I suppose… er… somehow all that makes me think of grapes whenever I think of the Emperor…"
The commodore silently puffed on his cigar, staring at Marco with an unreadable expression. The officers either side of the commodore were less discreet and looked shocked.
Eventually, the commodore just picked up another piece of paper, and read it out aloud. "Question seventeen: What is your life worth to you? Answer: A bag of chocolate coated peanuts."
It relieved Marco when the commodore spoke again, apparently the topic about the Emperor had been and gone just like that. At least Marco had hoped that was what happened when the commodore read out question seventeen.
"A bag of chocolate coated peanuts?" The quiet lieutenant asked Marco. He was about to speak directly to Marco again when the commodore stretched his arm out in front of the young officer.
"Leave it there, Lieutenant." He said, and retracted his arm. "I will be asking the questions, you are merely here as my consultant."
Nodding respectfully, the lieutenant began to examine the other papers and left the commodore to speak with the private.
"So, Marco," the commodore said taking a more casual tone and blowing out a cloud of cigar smoke from his mouth, "Are you really that interested in the project? What's it all to you, what's buzzing around in that head of yours? I want to know more. Tell me why you want to be apart of this project."
Marco practiced his breathing techniques, to help calm himself. He tried to speak to the commodore in a level and serious voice, but he couldn't stop showing his excitement. He felt that the commodore's words were a good sign. "I… I… I've always wanted to be a scientist!" He quivered elatedly.
The commodore nodded and leant back to talk quietly to a squadron leader. The pair exchanged a few words, and the squadron leader passed the commodore another stack of papers.
Another five minutes passed while everyone sat in silence as the commodore flicked through the papers. Eventually, the commodore looked at Marco again. "Congratulations Private Fezz," he said with very little emotion, "you're on the project. Hand this to Sergeant Barthees."
Marco stood up; he was stunned. He got in! He felt like the luckiest person in the Imperium. He walked over to the officers desk, and waited while the commodore signed something, and put a stack of papers into an envelope.
The commodore handed the envelope to Marco without so much as a smile. Instead, he spoke in an orderly fashion, "Barthees will be available after fifteen hundred hours. Until that time, you're excused of duties. Get you bags packed, private. Barthees will fill you in on the rest."
Marco threw a hearty salute, about turned and nearly fell over; he was shaking from both fear and glee. As soon as he was out the door, he let loose. "I made it! I'm in! I'm friggin' in! Yeah! I'm gonna be a scientist!"
He danced in the corridor, trying to convince himself it really wasn't just a dream, and that he really had just achieved something in life besides winning a karaoke contest.
A stern voice shouted out form behind Fezz, "Private! What the hell are you doing? Do you want me to shoot you in the head, because you sure making me feel like I want to do it!"
Marco swivelled around and quickly fixed his shirt and put his hat back on. A sergeant had walked around the corner, dressed in battle gear, with a large pack on his back. He had a blonde bar moustache, which reached down past his lips and to his chin line.
"I… I'm sorry, sergeant, but the greatest thing ever has just happened to me!" Marco stammered, fearful that the sergeant really would put a hole in his head.
Walking up to Marco, the sergeant leant close and glared him in the eyes angrily. He then looked at the door beside Marco which had "INTERVIEW" written on it. The sergeant's expression changed to one of curiosity. "Hmm, so kiddo, what was you in there for? And what's all this greatest thing ever stuff you were babbling about?"
The private couldn't believe the sergeant hadn't heard. "Don't you know about the planetary exploration, sergeant? They were doing selections for it today. Had to do a psychology exam and everything. I passed! Or at least that's what the commodore told me. They wanted two volunteers, I don't know if they've chosen another person already or what."
The sergeant snorted. "Planetary exploration? So that's what they termed it." He muttered something beneath his breath which Marco couldn't catch. "Well anyway, I pity you kid. You really got no idea what you just 'volunteered' for. See you around." Without another glance at Marco, the sergeant walked off.
"But it's more than exploration," Marco said trying to impress the sergeant, "we have to do studies, and experiments and scientific stuff like that, too."
"Is that right?" The sergeant replied amused, and he walked around the corner. Marco could hear the sergeant begin to laugh.
Ignoring the impolite sergeant, Marco decided to pack his bags like the commodore had ordered, until it was time to find Barthees.
Several hours later, at 1450hrs outside of Sergeant Barthee's office.
Marco was sitting on a chair in the corridor, awaiting the arrival of sergeant Barthees. He had brought the envelope with him, and was playing with his moustache anxiously.
"Hey there, private! You got picked for the planet thing too?"
Marco looked up; a woman with black hair pulled back into a tight bun was walking up the hall. She had an envelope in her hand similar to Marco's. She was mid-height, and muscular.
"Hi, yeah, I got picked to go on the planet exploration this morning. I'm guessing you did too?" Marco replied, standing up. He held out his hand to shake.
"Yeah, sure did," she replied, shaking Marco's hand in a grip that nearly broke his fingers. "I look forward to it, I've never had the chance to do anything like this."
"My name's Marco Fezz," Marco introduced himself while massaging his aching hand.
"You can call me Sam," the woman replied. She was also a private, and wore a men's ceremonial uniform identical to Marco's (except in a larger size).
Sam and Marco sat down on the chairs outside Barthee's office. "Are you stationed at this outpost?" Sam asked.
"No," Marco replied, explaining, "I came from a much larger base. I heard about the planet exploration, and put my name down. Myself and three other privates from my squad were picked and shipped here to participate in the final interviews. Apparently they were very picky about what type of people were to go on the exploration."
"Same as me," Sam agreed. "I was based in a very far away system. It took me three months to get here."
Holding up his envelope, Marco sighed with satisfaction saying, "well, our journeys were worth it."
Marco was startled when someone ripped the envelope from his hand. "No it wasn't. And I hate you."
Sam's envelope was also snatched from her. "And I'm very suspicious of you." the same voice snapped.
"Hey!" Marco shouted surprised. "Those are for Sergeant Barthees only! Huh, you're the sergeant I met earlier. Are you stalking me?"
"Ha!" the sergeant shouted. "I am Sergeant Barthees! And I aint stalking you kid. Although I could ask you the same question."
Sam rolled her eyes. Marco had the feeling she wanted to say something to the rude sergeant, but her rank made that impossible.
"He obviously picked you both for a reason." Barthees said, unlocking his office with an eye-scan. "Now, come in, take a seat, and let me evaluate how screwed I truly am."
Sam looked at Marco, who shrugged. Neither could understand what was making the sergeant so pessimistic. The pair entered the office after Barthees, and the door slid closed. The room was messy; the desk which the sergeant sat behind was buried beneath stacks of paper.
"Nice room, sergeant." Sam commented sarcastically.
Clearing a space off his desk, Barthees explained exasperated, "Well, I haven't exactly had time to scratch my ass over the past few months, let alone clean my office. Look at my eyes! They're blood shot. The first friggin thing I'm doing when we get down to that shit-hole planet is sleep for a week! I'll just make some bullshit up that we all caught the plague from the Orks we were studying or something."
"Orks?" Marco asked, unsure. "Why would be studying for Orks? Aren't we meant to be doing scientific research and exploring the planet?"
"No wonder they picked you. I don't even have to look inside your envelope to register that." Barthees commented, rolling his eyes and taking off his combat helmet. Leaning back in his seat, he put his boots up on the desk. "The Orks are our 'scientific' research. It's just an excuse to get me killed, really. And, you two suckers are stuck with me now. As for the exploration… well, we do kinda have to explore the planet to find where the Orks are. I'm sure there's plenty of them down there, though. So finding them won't really be a problem."
Sam didn't seem too concerned; however, Marco looked less and less enthusiastic about 'planetary exploration'. "I… I haven't got any combat experience… how can they expect me to go down onto an Ork infested planet and expect me to survive?" He quivered.
Barthees sighed; he was getting impatient. "That's the whole friggin' point, moron! I can guarantee that Sam doesn't have combat experience, either. Am I right?"
Sam looked at the sergeant as if he had two heads. "What? Course I got combat experience. I just aint been promoted because my commander is prejudiced towards my kind."
"You have combat experience?" Barthees said, nearly falling of his chair. "Thank the Emperor! As soon as we get to that planet, I'm promoting you to corporal!"
"How generous." Sam replied dryly.
"And, you can share my bunk if you like." The sergeant added saucily.
Sam put her hand into her pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it up. "You should have read my file before saying that, sergeant…"
Using his combat knife, the sergeant cut open Sam's envelope. He pulled out the papers, and flicked through them.
Confused, Marco asked, "Are you a nun? I can totally understand, in this Dane age I think I'd be turned off as well… too many gadgets now days, if you know what I mean. My mother married a man three centuries older than herself! Thankfully, I was not his son."
Sam puffed quietly away on the cigarette, ignoring Marco.
"Oh…" Sergeant Barthees lowered the papers, and meshed his fingers together, leaning on his desk with his elbows. "Sorry about the misunderstanding there, Samantha. I have a cousin from Nimbin Seven. He's the same as you, like a majority of the people there. He found it hard in the military, ended up shooting himself because of it."
Sam stuck out her tongue, put out the cigarette on it, and ate the butt. "Just call me Sam. It saves a lot of confusion." Turning to Marco, who looked rather confused, she added, "let's just say I put the 'man' back into 'Samantha'. Sorry I didn't say anything earlier, I didn't get the chance. But for future reference, if you speak about me I do prefer to be associated with feminine terms such as 'she' and 'her'."
"Huh? Oh!" Marco snapped out of his shock. "N-no need to be sorry, I should have known by the fact you are wearing a man's uniform. And no worries, I'll keep that in mind."
"Anyway, moving on." The sergeant opened Marco's envelope. "Let's see what's behind door number two…"