5 War Effort

So, the useless bastards finally decided to let us join the war. I was wondering when they would get their act together. Paul was excited at the prospect of actual combat. Reecevark training turned tedious after the first two weeks. Endless tutorials and classes about becoming one with the fighter was boring. Simply put, the Reecevark lacked a shared perspective with the humans.

Seeing the darkness of space vacuum split by light reflected from the planet, a deep hunger stirred within the passengers from Earth. It was visceral. Finally, their time was come. The few times Paul felt alive was when their jailors let them actually fly. To seat behind the controls, feel the senses melt and extend towards the weapons conduit was orgasmic. To feel the graceful lines of the fighter embrace the darkness of space was glorious. Deep space was home. For the Soulless, the emptiness of the dark vacuum called out to him. In the beginning, there was Nothingness. Nothingness created Nothing. In the end, there would be Nothing. In the end, there was only death. That was the mantra the Soulless comforted themselves with in the darkness of their bunks while crying.

It did not matter that the neural chips implanted in him would stop him from dying. Months of training beside like-minded maniacs like himself said he could end his life given some creativity. At first chance, he would end it all. Damn Earth and its mewling mass of humanity, they didn't deserve him. They thought they could sentence him to a virtual death just because he refused to believe in the same spew of bullshit they did? Screw 'em! Screw the Union as well. They forced the formation of the Hegemony. Insisting on pilots forced the creation of the Common Belief Laws to find potential pilots. Things were bad enough for people like him before the aliens made their presence known. Things turned to worse when they turned up.

Staring outside at the approaching planet's space dock, Paul's stolid expression belied his incensed interior. So yeah, they call us Soulless because we refused to believe? Refused to be normal? I'll give them Soulless. I'll let them all burn!

Paul's amused thoughts momentarily ceased as the carrier jarred to a stop. Docking at a spaceport on the Junari homeworld twenty-two thousand five hundred parsecs from Ceres, it was Paul's first experience of an alien world. Well, an 'almost' experience. The Junari were reluctant to allow the humans on their home world. This particular batch of humans was penniless. Among the most endearing traits possessed by the Junari was a stinginess unparalleled by any other race in the universe. To compare them to Scrooge was to elevate the cartoon character to mythic proportions. The Junari would play their part. They would do nothing more. Paul thought it fitting that the Soulless would spend as little time as possible over Junari space. The Cerulean world below beckoned to travelers but everyone knew to not even ask for assistance among the Junari unless they had the galactic-credits to pay for information.

"Pilots will proceed to their assigned berths. Your flight numbers are the same as your rooms." The cold mechanical voice over the com instructed the human pilots. Paul and the rest of his companions would spend a few days at the port waiting for the D`harsid convoys to arrive. The spaceport was also home to various battalions from the militaries of the Union. Dropping his meagre belongings in his quarters, Paul decided to take a tour of the spaceport and find something to eat.

The port was a massive construct. Commissioned by the Union for the express use of its forces, the captured asteroid that served as home to over a dozens of species from different worlds was maintained at half of Earth's gravity. For Paul and his companions, this was not a problem. Ceres, maintained at three times Earth's gravity, was a brutal world at three times Earth gravity. Here, one could almost fly.

Passing by creatures from the different races, he saw Davii`d in their counter-grav sleds slide by next to chattering Fionins harassing them about changes to their crew quarters. The slow-moving G`terchens crawled along the cavernous passageways while munching the nerfat leaves they never left. Reecevark, nominally in charge of all Union naval operations, were in the majority. Everywhere Paul cast his eyes he saw one directing this group or that somewhere on the massive station. A few wore their flight suits and headed off on missions. Ungalit, representing the majority of non-Reecevark on the station, received wide space around them while in movement. An accidental collision with one of the nine-foot tall columns of bone and gristle would be fatal.

Something tickled the periphery of his vision. Turning an expressionless gaze to his left just before entering the mess halls, Paul saw a bunch of humans in the pukish green and dark blue of the Earth's Union marines. Unlike their counterparts who served for in the Hegemony army, these fellows lacked the arrogant swagger associated with Earth's ground-based marines. They knew their worth. Alongside Ungalit infantry, Earth's soldiers had earned renown on the battlefields of Ulkoor, Veseden, Rangoor and K`alinga. They might not have been receiving the same wide berth as their more massive companions, but they were respected.

The seven were looking at him. Paul could see the curiosity on their faces. Among the first batch of human fighter pilots to graduate from Ceres Space Command, the midnight black bio-suit lacking the Hegemony saltire was distinctive. The Hegemony government, in an effort to distinguish Earth's new flight pilots from the rest of its military ordered them dressed up in unrelieved black. It would represent the status of their souls. It didn't even have buttons. Instead, velcro sealed the suits. It was all to the good and Paul did not mind. It kept the curious from making fatal mistakes.

He decided to ignore them. Everyone, at least on Earth, knew what his uniform represented. They might not have known what it meant to the ones wearing them but Paul was not about to spend the time educating them. Release was close. If he understood the mission parameters well, he and the rest of the four flight squadrons would accompany Reecevark and Rhizon pilots in escort duties. In the course of their service, something was sure to happen. An impossible situation. The geas upon them would not let them commit suicide under any circumstances. On the other hand, trapped, surrounded and outgunned, they would be sure to die.

Nothing could be allowed to upset their plans. This meant suffering fools. Making a turn, Paul headed for the food modules and selected the bland vitamin-filled paste they used to serve on Ceres. There were other options. He could see beef on the menu. After months eating Hegemony crap, he was not even tempted to go for the better servings. It was not that he feared better tasting food would weaken his resolve; he just didn't care.

Looking around, he saw D`Souza, Marko, Mfecane, Andrea, Johanssen, Shaka, Lila and Usama sharing a table. Along with Colbert, Vanessa, Chen Li and himself they made the twelve-man flight team. The Reecevark were enamored of the base twelve numeral system. Paul figured it had something to do with the number of toes on their feet.

Joining the rest of his flight, Paul decided to add himself to their repressing numbers. On the mess table, D`Souza, Mfecane and Lila were playing three-dimensional tri-chess. Mfecane looked close to winning. A lethal knight duo supported by a pawn and white bishop on E3 and H1 put serious pressure on Lila's king. D`Souza seemed too far to effect a relief or take advantage. Plus, she'd taken too long to try finagle Mfecane's poisoned pieces.

At six-four and weighing 210 pounds, Mfecane resembled a Greek god. One of the strongest and most lethal unarmed combat fighters to graduate, his Zulu genes served him well. Right now, he was focused on eviscerating Lila's defense just before delivering the coup-de-gras. Flicking an ear at me, the ebony Adonis saluted. In a different world, Paul would have desired a body such as his. Now, we were bereft of all desire. Soulless didn't even have command of their sexual functions.

Usama nodded at Paul and motioned towards the game. He'd seen something. Lila had an out. A queen sacrifice against D`Souza's bishop on G7 would open up an escape route for her king. Unfortunately, it would leave D`Souza too powerful for the other two to beat. Catching on, Lila looked up at Mfecane and delivered a dazzling smile. D`Souza was fucked.

Around the group, the din of the mess hall grew as more creatures 'walked' in. Some, like Paul's companions, the Ungalit and Saltarions, occupied entire mess tables by themselves. It was both a matter of cultural preference as well as studied avoidance. The Saltarions, denizens of a murky swamp-filled world perpetually covered in darkness, exuded a steady cocktail of thiosulfinates that overwhelmed almost any race that hang around them for too long. Ungalit had a reputation for 'accidentally' knocking over intrusive visitors to their tables with effusive arm gestures.

"Someone is in trouble. Perhaps if you offered to return the pieces you…borrowed?" Johanssen slyly remarked sotto-voce with a perfectly arched eyebrow. She was another Paul would not have mind knowing in a previous life. Like everyone on the table, Johanssen could see Lila's out and the impending alliance between the two. D`Souza was frowning hard and unwilling to forego her massacre of Mfecane's hanging pieces.

"Why don't you shut your slutty trap and…" She froze her diatribe. Twisting her head around, she stared at the approaching trio dressed in the uniform of Earth's Union marines.

A sergeant led the trio. Adopting the rank insignia of the Western powers, the marine's chevrons were colored red on his left shoulder. The other two looked like privates. Interestingly, all three wore medals awarded to units that served on K`alinga.

"Ahem. I'm Luke. We are with the 509th. This is corporal Jenkins and private Daugherty. Jenkins here just received a field promotion for his work back at K`alinga. Won't receive his pay upgrade yet though. Paperwork you see." The three chuckled to themselves at having said something funny. Paul and the rest on the table kept staring. They received no pay from the Union. That is, whatever the Union paid went straight to Hegemony. They were Soulless.

Clearing his throat, the sergeant went on.

"We were wondering whether you could join us. You don't get to see many of us in flight uniform. Humans I mean. You are the first we've seen." The oblivious idiot went on droning.

Luke's eyes were now nervously scanning our faces for any sign of welcome. It was pitiful. Paul almost decided there and them to put the fool out of his misery.

Stepping up to the table, the gangly corporal spoke up. Unlike his sergeant, he seemed to catch on that the trio were uninvited. "Actually, we wanted to invite you to our quarters later on. We're on C-section, deck five. We got booze, Tequilla we got past custom, and some card games. Want to join?" He offered with a sickly grin on his mug.

The larger group answered him with silence.

The two were definitely sweating now. Somehow, the expressionless stares coming from the table were unnerving the stalwart veterans. Paul wondered whether news of the Soulless had reached people back home. It would explain why the three seemed anxious. Twitching an auricular facial nerve, Paul ordered Usama to get rid of the interlopers. They had a rotating system for who broke the rules when necessary. For the good of all. They, unlike Hegemony, operated via a democracy.

Before the lethal Iranian twitched a muscle, the three were extracting themselves from the situation. "We will be going now. Hope to see you soon." Diminutive, the auburn haired Private Daugherty was pulling her ground-mates by their elbows. Smiling and nodding their heads, the three made their way towards their own table to join the other four. With a flick of his left ear, Paul countermanded the previous order. He sighed inwardly.

"You are still it next time." Paul informed Usama with a glare. It wasn't fair that he'd get off lightly.

With a smirk, Usama responded. "Oh no brave and mighty leader, I would not deign to deprive another of their share." Around the table, everyone's ear was violently twitching. They were laughing at him!

With a sly loo across the table, Usama added, "I believe that makes it your turn next oh wise and benevolent One." He thought he was funny. A true comedian.

It wasn't fair!