#teague is just throwing drinks at people now

[thecodekeeper]

Stamping in the cold in an attempt to get warm the Irishman blew into his hands, rubbing them vigorously. At the sound of the door opening he visibly brightened, lips pink and chapped from the cold parting to reveal a beaming smile. “Aye, merry Christmas,mate!” Clearing his throat he took a breath, belting out the first lines of his favorite carol. “Its beginning to look a lot like Ch-“

     After having endured decades of Christmas, along with all the pointless rituals accompanied it, Teague had a rule. Never open the door on Christmas. Whether it was a bible thumping pauper shoving a charity bucket in your face, or a group of choir boys being whored out to each house in order to spread “the joys of Christmas”, nothing good ever came from opening the damn door on December 31st. But Christmas Day was a month away and while preparations for the horrible holiday had begun early this November he figured that it would be a few more weeks before the carollers began their yearly trespassing. 

     Unfortunately,  it appeared not everyone, notably Killian, abided by the unspoken rule ‘don’t start your holiday cheer until the actual holiday’. And so Teague’s ears were assaulted immediately upon opening the door. He stood there shocked. Dumbfounded. Unable to fathom why someone he knew would do this to him. It was only once the opening line was abruptly cut off that Teague realized in his desire to make whatever this was stop that he’d thrown his glass of scotch in Killian's face. 

[norringtxn]

          / @killmebutneverinsultme​ / continued from here /

Jack ceased his angry tirade at the horizon where Barbossa had long since vanished, his brain catching up to what his ears had just processed.

He turned to Jim — James — and stared at him, bewildered. In love? How had he not realised? Or had he, and been lost as to what to do about it? All these years, that posh brat who'd been Jack's annoying, clingy little shadow ever since Teague had brought him back to the Cove. Then there had been the business with the Rogues and the Company and they had been separated. Jack had come back to find Greene, once Norrington, had grown tall and proud. Another two years on and here he was, no longer a boy.

The new scar at Jack's right brow stung but even that could not distract him from what had been said. He was almost astonished he hadn't been the one to show interest first, at least not knowingly when sober. But it hadn't occurred to him it was an option. Not until now. Now, when they were both two people and he was not lording about as captain.

Jack took a few moments to respond, briefly lost for words. Then —

"For starters, you should have a drink."

James was no fool. He knew that being marooned meant nothing but death. It would come, be it by starvation, thirst or whatever horrible fate the stars would throw down on them.

The confession had escaped him before he’d had the chance to stop it, spilling forth like the sea had poured out of his lungs on that day his world had changed all those years ago.

Jack. It was always Jack.

The reaction he’d received had been an expected one: stunned silence for a moment that was painfully long followed by a remark that held the intention to remove weight off the moment.

“I fail to see how drink will solve anything.” James mumbled, slightly annoyed. “Not that there is anything to drink here besides seawater.”

[bestwishes1986]

Part 5 : Deception (WIP)

Reckless, impulsive, loyal, those were words that Kingston “King” McTavish would assign to Valiant Teague. Standing on the front step of a suburban hamlet in the middle of the afternoon had surprised even him. At 350 years of age it was hard to surprise him, but as he waited for someone to answer the door he was surprised. His opal blue curls and straight lines of hair were caught in a breeze that made them sway. He had had the underside of his head shaved all around with a thick beard not the same blue surrounding his face like a mane. His darker than vanilla skin tone from the mixed heritage of his father and mother and facial features made him appear handsome with more than a hint of African descent. His blue eyes watched the door, trying to be patient.

Any call to the castle was recorded and before heading out on his motorcycle he had the call played back over and over. Listening for any signs of immediate emergency, danger, or signs of a struggle. All he had heard was emotional rawness and that had been enough for him to cancel any plans he had made for the day and leave. His prisoner Tobin had just been brought back his second escape attempt and he needed distance from that man anyway.

The door opened and instead of his weapons specialist for the Kingsguard he commanded, there was a little girl looking disappointed to see him. Before he could speak she ran back into the house crying. King’s blue eyebrows drew together in concern. A stranger came to the door, beautiful with gray eyes and wild dark hair that could use a brush.

“Sorry about Abigail, we tried to stop her but she got ahead of us…you are?” Donovan asked holding out a hand.

“King, Sovereign of the United Kingdom. I was summoned here by Val, why isn’t he receiving me?” King asked, his light voice suspicious of this stranger. His Lycan, a blue wolf that lived inside his soul stirred from sleep. The bright golden eyes looking at the creature before King through their metaphysical bond. King took the man’s hand in a fierce grip and was surprised when Donavan gripped his hand just as strong.

“Donavan Roe, an acquaintance of Val’s. He’s in right state presently, come on in.” Donovan said keeping his face as passive as possible even though the death grip King had on his wrist made him wonder if bones would break if he applied any more pressure. King released his hand and walked past him, never taking his eyes off Donavan until he had to turn his head forward. Even then he didn’t like Donavan behind him. Using his Lycan senses he smelled the house. Three strong scents, one faint almost gone entirely.

He glanced at the furniture, most of it years old seemed in good condition. No signs of any fighting occurred.

“What exactly is happening here?” King asked looking back at Donavan.

“Short version. I witnessed the murder of Val’s wife and we just saw her in the crowd at the Mercy Hospital Bombing. So Val is trying to not have a breakdown right now. He’s in the guest room down that way.” Donavan surmised as he pointed down the hallway.

“You’re leaving something out.” King said he had listened to this man’s pulse the entire time, noting it’s rhythm changes as he spoke.

“Go see him first.” Donavan said ducking his head.

“You do know what Sovereign means, you don’t give me orders.” King said a bit of a growl coming into his words as if to show Donavan who was in control of things.

“He needs you now, this whose cock is bigger bullshite can wait. I will be trying to get his daughter to stop crying. If that’s alright, my Lord,” Donavan said with a tone beyond annoyed and King almost said something rude but his ears picked up the sounds of things being torn apart from the second story.

“Go, she’s tearing something apart right now and in that state I imagine it’s something important to her.” King said before he walked down the hallway without waiting for a response. Donavan turned and moved to the stairs, he felt out of his depth. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. He asked himself why he was still even here, he had done what he had come to do. He had told Val everything he knew about the man. But as he moved up the stairs he knew the reason, hated himself for the reason but as he came to door with pony stickers. He knew it was all beyond his control, he cared what happened to these people.

Donavan stood in the doorway, watching as the five year old tore a painting to ribbons. His eyes were wide with surprise but he didn’t stop her. Her tears were gone, her face red with anger as she pulled more of the once large painting apart. A part of him knew he should tell her to stop, but he didn’t. If he had learned one thing in his life, it was to trust his instincts. Finally when the painting was just small pieces of paper strewn about the room, and Abigail breathing hard with the exertion he knocked on the doorframe.

He kept his face calm and neutral of any emotion and just waited. Children were unpredictable, as an incubus he could feel emotions the way people felt a breeze before rain. Hers were a mess of anger, sadness and above all confusion. It made his heart hurt, that surprised him. He had only known of her existence for only one morning and already he felt he would hurt anyone who harmed her. But he didn’t have time to be perplexed as she launched herself at him and he had just enough time to crouch before she was hugging him tight and sobbing.

Donavan’s eyes were wide, this was the second Teague to do this and he just wasn’t sure what about him screamed “Port in a storm”. But he hugged her back all the same. Abigail was young but she wasn’t stupid. The concept of telling her everything would be alright seemed ludicrous, he wasn’t sure anything would be alright ever again. So he simply let her cry it out on his shoulder.

Downstairs was a different matter entirely. King had leaned against the closed door and listened to his subordinate’s retelling of recent events. He had resisted the urge to interrupt. Making mental notes as he did. He wasn’t angry at being kept in the dark about Val’s investigation, he knew if he had learned before now who the victims were he would have pulled him from investigation.

“We tried to keep Abigail back but she threw a fit and I retreated back here and let Donavan handle it. I just wanted to compose myself before you fired me from your employ,” Val concluded somberly and King’s eyes went wide but he said nothing for a moment.

“You’ve been using that word a lot today. “We” I mean. Have you noticed that,” King asked as he folded his arms over his long green wool sweater and waited for a reply. As predicted it took Val a moment to retrace the conversation and with a deep frown King knew it had finally registered with the man.

“I have no reason to sack you Valiant, but I will say you’re too goddamn smart to go it alone. Let alone too smart to take things at face value. So disappointed would be how I’m currently feeling. But above that, I’m sorry Mate. Losing a wife is hard, ye but getting on top of another bloke right after. That’s a bit of a stretch even for you yah?” King spoke with a bit of incredulous shock to his voice.

“I haven’t done anything with Donavan, besides he’s been a friend this day. As well as a witness to her death, I just want time to find out what he knows.” Val said and King nodded his brow creased in thought. King had heard Donavan approaching but said nothing. He had also heard the lie in Val’s voice but said nothing just watched him. This was going to be interesting.

The door burst open and King barely had time to move before Donavan came bursting in, his face red with anger.

“Is that it?! That’s all you want from me right! Information. Alright here,” Donavan shouted King watched him, listening to any underlying emotion or held back secret.

“The man is a Vampire. He has fangs instead of teeth and talks with a French accent. He’s tall like me, but muscular like a Football player. His skin is brown like an African but pale like a corpse. He wears fine clothes like a royal snob would. I never remember where we go because he has mental magic or some such shit. I used to think it was drugs but I didn’t eat or drink before the later takings so it can’t be. The rooms he takes me to are hotel rooms, like the one Tegan was in. Cheap places you pay by the day. He always paid with cash. There was a black briefcase that had an ornate set of operating tools in it. He would bleed me first, then rape me, feed me just enough to replinish blood then do it again.” Val rose to stop him but Donavan kept going.

“He forced me to watch. Used compulsion on me so my eyes wouldn’t close. I tried to move, to free myself but could only cry while he took his time. Savoring the meal he said. Is that enough, you get what you needed,” Donavan looked at King then. King’s blue eyes were shrewd, he nodded. Donavan nodded back, before looking at Val.

“See, that’s honesty. Not your dirty tacs, using your body and whatever I felt was happening to lure me in to a false sense of security. That’s on par with him and his money. Never, see me again.” With that Donavan ran. Val was too shell shocked to move. King slipped his phone out and made a call. Val felt his life breaking in ways he couldn’t imagine. The information from Donavan had felt like nails being driven into his skin, piercing muscle and shattering bone.

“I want eyes on him all day and night. This is the only lead we have to get to him.” King concluded as he hung up the phone. He was seized by Val who slammed him against a wall.

“What are you playing at King!? Eh, you set me up?” Val shouts. King looked back at him, cold blue eyes.

“I knew Donavan was listening. But I had no idea you would throw yourself on top of an emotional land mine. That was all you. Lying to me, what’s more you’re lying to yourself. I will give you two hours to be ready to roll out with the guard. Bring your daughter to the castle, she’ll be safe there.” King said. The words causing Val to release him as his arms dropped to his sides.

“Donavan didn’t tell you because he knew you weren’t ready to hear it. That’s how Incubuses work, they sense the person’s emotions and act accordingly. He would have told you when he felt you were ready. Now I have to go, my men are tailing Donavan but if I’m right. Someone else has been waiting for you to make the sort of blundering mistakes you have.” King concluded turning to leave.

“You don’t mean…?” Val whispered unable to believe the implication.

“Whatever entity stood in front of television cameras allowing you to see it. Yes, that creature. It most likely wanted to separate you and Donavan for the real threat to collect him without my intervention or yours. And you with your lies have made it that much fucking easier. I would suggest you try the honest approach going forward Mate,” King said and continued on. The door to the house opened and closed. A guttural sound of the motocycle engine came next. Val dropped to his knees, the full weight of all his situations and mistakes bringing him low.

Somewhere out there, a creature with his wife’s face knew about him. Somewhere out there Donavan was being lured to a trap. What was he going to do?

[eittiedouglas]

Take Refuge In Pleasure | Quin & Eittie | Dublin 

The bar was beginning to get a little busier as the night wore on, even as the evenings were stretching out towards Summer now, the cool of the air still drove people inside to find a drink or two. The colleague Eittie came with had long since left and she had spent the time getting to know the bartender, talking mindlessly as she spoke with people on the hub on her phone. Laughing softly to herself when she saw Teague’s message that he was just getting off the Lattice in Dublin. Sliding her glass back across the bar for another whiskey, Eittie got up and wandered over to the Juke Box in the corner, throwing in a couple of coins from her pocket and putting a few tracks on the queue to play. Not thinking about much, which was always the goal of her evenings out, she barely put a few tracks on before wandering back across the bar, weaving in and out of a few people who were already up and dancing. Knocking back her drink in one hit, she held it out for a second and smiled sweetly at the bartender as he eyed her. ‘Don’t let this 5′3 frame fool you, I can hold my liquor like a sailor.’ 

Grinning at the snort she got in return, she took her refilled glass and leant on the bar, looking over at the groups of people, scanning each of their faces. How the hell was she supposed to recognise this man in a crowd? Mysterious indeed. So far she had found the hub a curious experience, not good or bad, but simply curious, it seemed a place to go to find people to share modern day ails with but Teague had been the first person to genuinely make her laugh and that kind of positive distraction was exactly what she needed. As her gaze jumped from face to face, she checked off each one. Not the 40 year old woman, hopefully, or heaven forbid the giant bearded man in pink jeans. It was a good ten minutes before she noticed the figure standing at the back of the room, looking right back at her. It was a long moment where just stood with her eyes locked before she turned back to the bar, ordering another glass before she carried them both over, through the crowd, a slow smile creeping up on her face as she held out the drink to him. ‘As far as I can tell, there’s only a few options to explain you....’

Pausing for a moment as she looked him over, too tipsy to be ashamed of her eyes moving down over his height, his build, his dress, and back up to his mouth and eyes. ‘You could be a spy but...’ She reached up and touched his collar with her finger, moving it aside just enough to see the tip of the tattoo there. ‘...you wouldn’t be a typical one. Undercover cop? I think that mouth would give you away too easily. Underworld criminal? Danger can be intoxicating and you don’t need help in that department.’ A wide smile spread over her lips as she took a sip of her drink, tilting her head as she swallowed. ‘Tell me, Teague, Mystery Man, something entirely mundane and real so at least I’ll know one thing about you.’ As Roxy Music came on over the speakers, Eittie’s smile only grew and she moved in closer so she could hear him when he replied.

[thegreatwhiteferret]

I was tagged by: @its-reddie-bitch (Thanks for this by the way, Elle. 85 fucking questions...Jesus. Lmao ❤️❤️❤️ )

1. last drink?: Venti Soy Blonde Latte from Starbucks because I am a basic white bitch

2: last phone call?: My older sister when I was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

3. last text message?: “Can I use your card for Starbucks?” Because I am a poor ass basic white bitch.

4. last song you listened to?: Rainbow by Kesha (Gets me in the feels every time)

5. last time you cried?: Mmmmmmmm last night or the early hours of today...

6. dated someone twice?: Noppppppppppppppe. Thank fucking God.

7. kissed someone and regretted it: I don’t think so.

8. been cheated on?: We weren’t “exclusive” so...but I’d fucking say that it still felt like it.

9. lost someone special?: So so many.

10. been depressed?: Severely for the majority of my life. (In case y’all hadn’t figured out that I’m an anxious and depressed mess)

11. gotten drunk and thrown up?: OH MY GOD. Only twice that I can think of, but one was really bad. Sour blue raspberry Smirnoff vodka and Titos vodka, and I filled like a full tumbler glass with that and chugged it...because why the fuck not? I’ll tell you why not, I ruined a $2,500 cowhide rug...fuck.

fave colors

12. Fluorescent Pink- Basic white bitch with Barbie tendencies.

13. Tiffany Blue- See above reasoning

14. Anything Pastel Ever

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends?: Yes, but I also lost a shit ton.

16. fallen out of love?: Hahahahaha. No romantic interactions at all in the past year so...not possible.

17. laughed until you cried?: All the time. That wine drinking Pennywise was the last thing that made me do this.

18. found out someone was talking about you?: Yes, and that bitch is lucky I had enough self control to not throw hands with her.

19. met someone who changed you?: Yes. (For better and for worse)

20. found out who your friends are?: In the hardest way possible.

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list?: Nope, and we can leave it that way.

general:

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl?: All of them.

23. do you have any pets?: My furry baby who is actually an alien like Stitch dog, Pippa. (But I also have my sister’s dog with me right now)

24. do you want to change your name?: Nah, I’m good.

25. what did you do for your last birthday?: Went for dinner with my family and tried to keep myself together.

26. what time did you wake up today?: Erhmmmmmm 10:30 ish, but I laid in bed with the dogs until almost 12. It was glorious.

27. what were you doing at midnight last night?: Finishing the latest chapter of I Will Try To Fix You so I could post it and watching Bloodline (legit only for Owen Teague...don’t judge me.)

28. what is something that you can’t wait for?: Things to get better...?

30. what are you listening to right now?: Someone You Like by The Girls and The Dreamcatcher 

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom?: Yup.

32. something getting on your nerves?: What doesn’t get on my nerves would be a shorter list. What irks me more than anything is people being assholes to other people because their ideals don’t match. No one is fucking asking you to engage in a poly relationship or marry your same gender so fuck off! Gahhhhh.

33. most visited website?: Tumblr (But if Google Docs counts (14 tabs open Jesus) then that’s close behind and so is Ao3).

34. hair color?: Bleached white blonde with horrendous roots. I sooooo want to do something drastic to it though, 

35. long or short hair: It’s shoulder length so whatever that is.

36. do you have a crush on someone?: A real life person? No. Celebrities? Hilary fucking Knight always and forever. People on this site? ...Maybeeeeeee.

37. what do you like about yourself?: This is a really hard question. I guess I’m an alright writer and I genuinely like helping people. 

38. want any piercings: I have quite a few, but I have my eye on a few for the future. 

39. blood type: O+

40. nicknames: Meg, Megs, Meggie, Mefge (Typo from Wii that will never cease to haunt me!), Texas...really freaking boring I guess.

41. relationship status: Single AF...by choice, not my choice, but a choice.

42. zodiac: Libra 

43. pronouns: She/Her

44. fave tv show: Golden Girls (and a million others, I watch a lot of TV tbh)

45. tattoos: I have a list of 14 that I want when I have money.

46. right or left handed: Right

47. ever had surgery: I’ve had sinus surgery and gastric related surgery so far. There will be more in the future I am sure.

48 . piercings: Two lobes each ear, industrial, rook, conch, and tragus. (Nips, belly button, and something else in the future hopefully)

49. sport: HOCKEY, ALL DAY EVERY DAY BABY!!! 

50. vacation: I haven’t been on one in years. I am dying to go to Disney and London.

51. trainers: Converse Chuck Taylors

more general

52. eating: Salad but I want to make a mug cookie...

53. drinking: Still working on that Latte

54. im about to watch: I’m watching some British family cook off show with my mom and sister on Netflix.

55. waiting for: Better days, they better be coming quickly.

56. want: To actually be motivated enough to quickly finish the 14 requests I have!!! Hahahaha, that’s why it’s a want and not a possibility. 

57. get married? YES PLEASE! But I think someone has to actually be able to tolerate me for this to happen. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

58. career: I quit my original dream career and now I am going back to school for nursing. It was toxic and I needed a change.

59. hugs or kisses: ALL OF THE PHYSICAL AFFECTION PLEASE!

60. lips or eyes: Eyes. Oh my God, EYES.

61. shorter or taller: ¿Por que no los dos?

62. older or younger: I don’t care as long as they are at least 18...sounds bad but whatever.

63. nice arms or stomach: Uhmmmm either?

64.  hookup or relationship: Relationship

65. troublemaker or hesitant: It depends on the situation.

66. kissed a stranger: Not yet, but I would.

67. drank hard liquor: Pretty much all I drink because I am allergic to beer and do not like wine. I actually owe my sister six shots of fireball, so that’s going to happen and I will be on the floor...

68. lost glasses: All the fucking time and then I can’t find them because I’m blind! Endless struggle.

69. turned someone down: Yes...and ghosted people too.

70. sex on the first date: SURE. Why the fuck not??

71. broken someones heart: I don’t think so.

72. had your heart broken: Yes, and at the time I thought I would never recover, but I’m still kicking bitches.

73. been arrested: No.

74. cried when someone died: So so so so so so so so much. 

75. fallen for a friend: Yes, multiple times, and they were awful decisions!

do you believe in…

76. yourself: No. Unfortunately. It’s a struggle, but I promise that I am going to get help very soon and work on this. I’m just very very hard on myself and don’t like when I’m not perfect. 😕😕😕

77. miracles: Maybe...

78. love at first sight: Nope. Infatuation of lust at first sight? Yes. Love? No, I don’t think it’s something to play around with and it has to grow.

79. santa clause: I CAN HEAR THE BELLS!!!!

80. kiss on a first date: I mean I already said why not to sex on the first date, so kissing is mild.

81. angels: I don’t know. Angels I’m not sure about, but I do believe in spirits and things of that nature.

82. best friend’s name: Can I say my dog? Is that pathetic? Pippa is my ride or die, guys.

83. eye color: Blue

84. fave movie: Inglorious Basterds, IT, and Rise of the Guardians in no specific order, because I am indecisive and can’t choose.

85. fave actor: I can’t choose one! Taron Egerton, Michael B. Jordan, and Evan Peters are high on my list though.

I have no idea who has already been tagged so I’m just going to throw some names out... @billbenbev @milagric @theriodiaries @demianhill @dannybriereisaliferuiner @valiantlydeepestdinosaur And literally anyone else who wants to do this!

[sad-ch1ld]

via RSI Comm-Link

DAY 627: THE JOURNEY ENDS

DAY 627: THE JOURNEY ENDS

2947.12.12 SET

by Sean Nazawa

The final part in a series following a class of recruits moving through the Navy’s training system.

A business executive has been abducted while in transit from a trade conference in the Xi’an Empire. Advocacy investigators were able to identify and track the kidnappers back to an abandoned comm relay. Intel suggested that they had hollowed out the interior, pressurized sections and transformed it into a small hideout. From a strategic perspective, the hideout was a nightmare: complete visibility against any approach, homemade proximity mines, and multiple bulkheads inside that could quickly be triggered to lock down and trap agents. The Advocacy has turned to the Navy for assistance in rescuing the hostage. A flight of Avengers were deployed to resolve the situation. They were currently keeping a wide berth of the relay, their trajectory insinuating that they were simply passing by.

A harrowing circumstance, for certain, as this type of scenario could easily prove deadly for everyone involved.

Thankfully, it’s not real.

This staged event is the final test that this group of Naval recruits will face before graduation. Although they don’t know this, their performance in this exercise will be reviewed by the Navy and even the Marines to determine where these recruits will be assigned. Intended to be as close to a real world operation as possible, the military have spared no expense in orchestrating the illusion.

The ‘outlaws’ are members of the Navy’s 208th Squadron, recently redeployed from active service on the Vanduul front, and many of them are enjoying this bit of entertainment. Bravo Flight leader Commander Harold Rifke spent the days before the exercise coming up with extensive backstories for the other pilots and capturing fake ransom demand vids that he’s been sending sporadically to Divisional Officer Edward Aino, the conductor of this simulated chaos, to forward on to the recruits.

I’m standing with Aino onboard a C&C ship, overseeing the entire wargame play out. Analysts and comms officers coordinate both sides of the engagement. The outlaw chatter is considerably more colorful; the 208th are really getting into their roles.

I watch the recruits’ ships disappear from the hologlobe. Under acting squadron leader Toulo Chalke’s orders, they’re breaking towards the comm relay. Aino listens intently as they relay their positions to each other. He shakes his head and takes a sip of sujin tea.

“Tell Rifke to hack their comms,” he yells over to the comms officer coordinating the outlaw channel, then glances at me. “They shouldn’t give away their positions.”

Over the course of the exercise Aino will continue to throw what he calls ‘surgical handicaps’ against the recruits. He wants them off-balance, to be the underdog.

I pick out the specific recruits among their brief clipped exchanges:

Callum Weaver is confidently adjusting the approach vectors of his flightmates. This scrawny kid from Aremis has really come into his own since beginning flight training and now acts as the number two for Chalke.

The acting squadron leader is a bit of a celebrity around the Forges. Even though his father is Beo Chalke, legendary sataball player for Jata SC, and his mother is Valina Razari, award-winning star of Tears of Time and Last Stand of Lidenvald (to name a few), to the recruits he’s just ‘Paladin.’ The nickname born from an incident that occurred three months ago where Chalke jumped in to help several recruits who were being bullied in the commissary.

“Sir, Rifke’s moved two flights to their position. He says they aren’t there.”

Aino grins.

Suddenly the outlaw comm channel explodes. The five ships that stayed back to guard the relay start calling out targets. The recruits drop the pretense and transition into combat updates. I hear Lyssa Vale, the brawler of the recruits, immediately mixing it up with the outlaw pilots.

Talkative on the comms, Vale is one of the most dedicated recruits I’ve seen. She is constantly pushing herself to a ridiculously high standard, putting hour after hour into sims, perpetually drilling herself and whoever she can loop into her training regimen. It seems to be paying off though; she’s ferocious in a fight.

The outlaws at the relay hold their ground as long as they can until virtual laser fire from the recruits finally take them down. With Vale providing cover, Weaver exits his ship and leads a pair of pilots into the relay to secure the hostage. They hope to finish their risky EVA before Rifke and two flights of outlaws race back.

The rest of the exercise is a single protracted brawl. The recruits do their best, but eventually the seasoned combat pilots of the 208th turn the tide. Weaver’s the last holdout, but he gets taken out just after he gets the hostage back to his ship.

Seven outlaws remain, the hostage is dead and the entire recruit squadron has been eliminated.

Two hours later, the recruits have gathered in Aino’s classroom for their debriefing. The room’s drenched in silence. Lyssa Vale is still wired from the op. Her leg bounces up and down as she glares ahead into space. Weaver aimlessly flips through his mobi. Even Chalke looks disappointed until he finally settles back in his seat and breaks the silence.

“Well, we almost had them.”

“Almost isn’t good enough,” Vale mutters.

“C’mon, Vale, you took out what, six? Seven?” Chalke seems intent on raising the spirits in the room.

The door suddenly opens and Aino strides into the room. He cuts a path to the front, powers up the system and loads all the captures of the exercise. He’s got everything: individual pilot cams, hologlobe recordings, comm chatter. For the next four hours, he walks them through the wargame, step by step. He grills them on each decision, why they made the choices they made, and what they would change in retrospect. There was no chastisements. No judgment on the actions of his recruits. It was purely objective analysis.

The recruits, however, seem locked in the loss.

Aino suddenly stops. He looks over the glum faces of the recruits in the room and shakes his head.

“You all need to grow the [redacted] up,” he mutters, tossing his pointer onto the desk.

That gets everyone’s attention. Aino draws out the pause and sits on the corner of his desk.

“Let me tell you all something. This job? The missions that you’ll fly? Any one of them can be a one-way ticket. It doesn’t matter if it’s the most routine patrol in the world, there’s always a chance that something could go wrong and one of you won’t come home. Now, I know you’re all sitting there, pissed off that you didn’t succeed. Let me let you in on a little secret: you weren’t supposed to. We did everything we could to stack the odds against you. Wilkes, remember your missile pod jam? I did that. Teague, your weapon overheating wasn’t an accident.”

The recruits exchange confused glances.

“You all saw failure, but I’ll tell you what I saw. I saw a squadron, working together, executing orders with precision and excellence. Chalke, you broke an engagement with an easy kill to drop flares and protect Kelso. Vale, you’d pick fights with pilots to get them away from teammates that were in trouble. Hell, feeding us the wrong position over your comms was genius. I thought we were gonna lose the op because of that.”

The recruits chuckle. Weaver gets some pats on the back. Aino smiles at them before he continues. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile at his recruits.

“You all did good. Yeah, you didn’t succeed. You lost people. But that’s the real lesson here. As a Navy pilot, you’re gonna be in these circumstances a lot. What we’re trying to do is condition you to act rationally in impossible situations. That doesn’t mean you’re always gonna make the right call. The real trick though, you gotta learn how to keep going. I know a lot of pilots, some of the finest pilots I ever flew with, who would rather be the one who gets punched out then have to go on without one of their squadron. You gotta be smarter than that. You gotta do your best. You got to look out not only the people beside you, but also for the civilians you’re protecting. Sometimes it’ll work out. Sometimes it won’t. Either way, you gotta pull yourself together and hit the next mission with a clear head. Now, I wish I could tell you how to do that, but you gotta figure that out for yourself.”

Aino studies the faces of the recruits.

“I’ve trained a lot of pilots, but I’ll tell you, I’ve never seen a class help each other as much as you do. I hope some of you get assigned together, but if you don’t, I hope you take that attitude to wherever you land because you all have something special.”

The room is silent for several moments. Someone gently knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

Rifke pokes his head in.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s all right, commander,” Aino says as he stands and grabs his pointer. “What can we do for you?”

“Well, sir,” Rifke opens the door and steps inside. Some of the other pilots from the 208th are outside. “We were wondering when you were done debriefing these Rorys, if we could treat them to some drinks. Vanduul don’t fight as hard as they did.”

Aino looks at his class. He gives a quick motion with his head for them to go. All the recruits slowly file out of the class to the cheers of the combat pilots outside.

Weaver lingers by the door, then turns back to Aino.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Get the hell out of here.”

Weaver smiles and leaves.

I wait as the door slowly clicks shut. Aino starts to quietly collect his things. I feel I have to say something.

“That was a nice speech, sir.”

“Was it?” Aino finishes packing up, then looks at me. “What I said should have terrified them. The other DOs like to say the Rubicon is the first moment they land on Kilian, but if you ask me, it never stops. Doing this job every day will challenge you to your core. The Navy has been my single greatest pride and has broken me in ways that even I can’t see.” Aino pauses. “But they’ll see. Everybody does.”

* * * * * * * * *

The class of 2947 graduation ceremony is held in the late summer on Macarthur and features over two thousand graduates in a variety of capacities. The flight academy alone is responsible for over two hundred. Aino surprised me and arranged for me to sit with the rest of the Divisional Officers for the ceremony.

I can see Arley Finn and Yen Hardigan, the two DOs from that first day on the tarmac that introduced me to the intense journey that Naval recruits faced. As I watch the proceedings commence, I can’t help but reflect on the variety of people I’d met on this incredible journey. All committed to the core tenets of the Navy and protect people like me.

The entire graduating class stands and repeats the same Oath that has been uttered by every Navy member for centuries:

Hear and witness that I do solemnly pledge, mind and body, that I will serve and protect the United Empire of Earth against all who would seek to harm it and its people.

That I will faithfully discharge the duties asked of me, and when called upon, I will defend the Empire with my life.

That I will be the sword and the shield. That I will not falter nor fail, but fight and win.

That I swear to do all in my power to act as a guardian of freedom and justice, as a champion of honor and valor, and as a true and proud member of the UEE Navy.

I finally spot Weaver, Chalke, Vale and the rest of my friends all clustered in the crowd, relishing each word of the Oath. And when they finish, their journey (and mine, I suppose) is over.

They are official members of the UEE Navy.

I talk briefly with Callum Weaver after graduation, just a brief conversation while he waits to receive his first posting, but I ask him about that first day on the freezing tarmac of Kilian. When confronted by DO Hardigan, Callum said that he was joining to “not feel helpless.”

“So,” I ask. “Do you still feel that way?”

This scrawny kid from Plantock River, only a couple hours from my house here on Aremis, who survived the horrors of the Vanduul attack, thinks about it for a few moments.

“I don’t think that feeling ever goes away … but now I know I’m not alone.”

[starcitizenprivateer]

via RSI Comm-Link

DAY 627: THE JOURNEY ENDS

DAY 627: THE JOURNEY ENDS

2947.12.12 SET

by Sean Nazawa

The final part in a series following a class of recruits moving through the Navy’s training system.

A business executive has been abducted while in transit from a trade conference in the Xi’an Empire. Advocacy investigators were able to identify and track the kidnappers back to an abandoned comm relay. Intel suggested that they had hollowed out the interior, pressurized sections and transformed it into a small hideout. From a strategic perspective, the hideout was a nightmare: complete visibility against any approach, homemade proximity mines, and multiple bulkheads inside that could quickly be triggered to lock down and trap agents. The Advocacy has turned to the Navy for assistance in rescuing the hostage. A flight of Avengers were deployed to resolve the situation. They were currently keeping a wide berth of the relay, their trajectory insinuating that they were simply passing by.

A harrowing circumstance, for certain, as this type of scenario could easily prove deadly for everyone involved.

Thankfully, it’s not real.

This staged event is the final test that this group of Naval recruits will face before graduation. Although they don’t know this, their performance in this exercise will be reviewed by the Navy and even the Marines to determine where these recruits will be assigned. Intended to be as close to a real world operation as possible, the military have spared no expense in orchestrating the illusion.

The ‘outlaws’ are members of the Navy’s 208th Squadron, recently redeployed from active service on the Vanduul front, and many of them are enjoying this bit of entertainment. Bravo Flight leader Commander Harold Rifke spent the days before the exercise coming up with extensive backstories for the other pilots and capturing fake ransom demand vids that he’s been sending sporadically to Divisional Officer Edward Aino, the conductor of this simulated chaos, to forward on to the recruits.

I’m standing with Aino onboard a C&C ship, overseeing the entire wargame play out. Analysts and comms officers coordinate both sides of the engagement. The outlaw chatter is considerably more colorful; the 208th are really getting into their roles.

I watch the recruits’ ships disappear from the hologlobe. Under acting squadron leader Toulo Chalke’s orders, they’re breaking towards the comm relay. Aino listens intently as they relay their positions to each other. He shakes his head and takes a sip of sujin tea.

“Tell Rifke to hack their comms,” he yells over to the comms officer coordinating the outlaw channel, then glances at me. “They shouldn’t give away their positions.”

Over the course of the exercise Aino will continue to throw what he calls ‘surgical handicaps’ against the recruits. He wants them off-balance, to be the underdog.

I pick out the specific recruits among their brief clipped exchanges:

Callum Weaver is confidently adjusting the approach vectors of his flightmates. This scrawny kid from Aremis has really come into his own since beginning flight training and now acts as the number two for Chalke.

The acting squadron leader is a bit of a celebrity around the Forges. Even though his father is Beo Chalke, legendary sataball player for Jata SC, and his mother is Valina Razari, award-winning star of Tears of Time and Last Stand of Lidenvald (to name a few), to the recruits he’s just ‘Paladin.’ The nickname born from an incident that occurred three months ago where Chalke jumped in to help several recruits who were being bullied in the commissary.

“Sir, Rifke’s moved two flights to their position. He says they aren’t there.”

Aino grins.

Suddenly the outlaw comm channel explodes. The five ships that stayed back to guard the relay start calling out targets. The recruits drop the pretense and transition into combat updates. I hear Lyssa Vale, the brawler of the recruits, immediately mixing it up with the outlaw pilots.

Talkative on the comms, Vale is one of the most dedicated recruits I’ve seen. She is constantly pushing herself to a ridiculously high standard, putting hour after hour into sims, perpetually drilling herself and whoever she can loop into her training regimen. It seems to be paying off though; she’s ferocious in a fight.

The outlaws at the relay hold their ground as long as they can until virtual laser fire from the recruits finally take them down. With Vale providing cover, Weaver exits his ship and leads a pair of pilots into the relay to secure the hostage. They hope to finish their risky EVA before Rifke and two flights of outlaws race back.

The rest of the exercise is a single protracted brawl. The recruits do their best, but eventually the seasoned combat pilots of the 208th turn the tide. Weaver’s the last holdout, but he gets taken out just after he gets the hostage back to his ship.

Seven outlaws remain, the hostage is dead and the entire recruit squadron has been eliminated.

Two hours later, the recruits have gathered in Aino’s classroom for their debriefing. The room’s drenched in silence. Lyssa Vale is still wired from the op. Her leg bounces up and down as she glares ahead into space. Weaver aimlessly flips through his mobi. Even Chalke looks disappointed until he finally settles back in his seat and breaks the silence.

“Well, we almost had them.”

“Almost isn’t good enough,” Vale mutters.

“C’mon, Vale, you took out what, six? Seven?” Chalke seems intent on raising the spirits in the room.

The door suddenly opens and Aino strides into the room. He cuts a path to the front, powers up the system and loads all the captures of the exercise. He’s got everything: individual pilot cams, hologlobe recordings, comm chatter. For the next four hours, he walks them through the wargame, step by step. He grills them on each decision, why they made the choices they made, and what they would change in retrospect. There was no chastisements. No judgment on the actions of his recruits. It was purely objective analysis.

The recruits, however, seem locked in the loss.

Aino suddenly stops. He looks over the glum faces of the recruits in the room and shakes his head.

“You all need to grow the [redacted] up,” he mutters, tossing his pointer onto the desk.

That gets everyone’s attention. Aino draws out the pause and sits on the corner of his desk.

“Let me tell you all something. This job? The missions that you’ll fly? Any one of them can be a one-way ticket. It doesn’t matter if it’s the most routine patrol in the world, there’s always a chance that something could go wrong and one of you won’t come home. Now, I know you’re all sitting there, pissed off that you didn’t succeed. Let me let you in on a little secret: you weren’t supposed to. We did everything we could to stack the odds against you. Wilkes, remember your missile pod jam? I did that. Teague, your weapon overheating wasn’t an accident.”

The recruits exchange confused glances.

“You all saw failure, but I’ll tell you what I saw. I saw a squadron, working together, executing orders with precision and excellence. Chalke, you broke an engagement with an easy kill to drop flares and protect Kelso. Vale, you’d pick fights with pilots to get them away from teammates that were in trouble. Hell, feeding us the wrong position over your comms was genius. I thought we were gonna lose the op because of that.”

The recruits chuckle. Weaver gets some pats on the back. Aino smiles at them before he continues. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile at his recruits.

“You all did good. Yeah, you didn’t succeed. You lost people. But that’s the real lesson here. As a Navy pilot, you’re gonna be in these circumstances a lot. What we’re trying to do is condition you to act rationally in impossible situations. That doesn’t mean you’re always gonna make the right call. The real trick though, you gotta learn how to keep going. I know a lot of pilots, some of the finest pilots I ever flew with, who would rather be the one who gets punched out then have to go on without one of their squadron. You gotta be smarter than that. You gotta do your best. You got to look out not only the people beside you, but also for the civilians you’re protecting. Sometimes it’ll work out. Sometimes it won’t. Either way, you gotta pull yourself together and hit the next mission with a clear head. Now, I wish I could tell you how to do that, but you gotta figure that out for yourself.”

Aino studies the faces of the recruits.

“I’ve trained a lot of pilots, but I’ll tell you, I’ve never seen a class help each other as much as you do. I hope some of you get assigned together, but if you don’t, I hope you take that attitude to wherever you land because you all have something special.”

The room is silent for several moments. Someone gently knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

Rifke pokes his head in.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s all right, commander,” Aino says as he stands and grabs his pointer. “What can we do for you?”

“Well, sir,” Rifke opens the door and steps inside. Some of the other pilots from the 208th are outside. “We were wondering when you were done debriefing these Rorys, if we could treat them to some drinks. Vanduul don’t fight as hard as they did.”

Aino looks at his class. He gives a quick motion with his head for them to go. All the recruits slowly file out of the class to the cheers of the combat pilots outside.

Weaver lingers by the door, then turns back to Aino.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Get the hell out of here.”

Weaver smiles and leaves.

I wait as the door slowly clicks shut. Aino starts to quietly collect his things. I feel I have to say something.

“That was a nice speech, sir.”

“Was it?” Aino finishes packing up, then looks at me. “What I said should have terrified them. The other DOs like to say the Rubicon is the first moment they land on Kilian, but if you ask me, it never stops. Doing this job every day will challenge you to your core. The Navy has been my single greatest pride and has broken me in ways that even I can’t see.” Aino pauses. “But they’ll see. Everybody does.”

* * * * * * * * *

The class of 2947 graduation ceremony is held in the late summer on Macarthur and features over two thousand graduates in a variety of capacities. The flight academy alone is responsible for over two hundred. Aino surprised me and arranged for me to sit with the rest of the Divisional Officers for the ceremony.

I can see Arley Finn and Yen Hardigan, the two DOs from that first day on the tarmac that introduced me to the intense journey that Naval recruits faced. As I watch the proceedings commence, I can’t help but reflect on the variety of people I’d met on this incredible journey. All committed to the core tenets of the Navy and protect people like me.

The entire graduating class stands and repeats the same Oath that has been uttered by every Navy member for centuries:

Hear and witness that I do solemnly pledge, mind and body, that I will serve and protect the United Empire of Earth against all who would seek to harm it and its people.

That I will faithfully discharge the duties asked of me, and when called upon, I will defend the Empire with my life.

That I will be the sword and the shield. That I will not falter nor fail, but fight and win.

That I swear to do all in my power to act as a guardian of freedom and justice, as a champion of honor and valor, and as a true and proud member of the UEE Navy.

I finally spot Weaver, Chalke, Vale and the rest of my friends all clustered in the crowd, relishing each word of the Oath. And when they finish, their journey (and mine, I suppose) is over.

They are official members of the UEE Navy.

I talk briefly with Callum Weaver after graduation, just a brief conversation while he waits to receive his first posting, but I ask him about that first day on the freezing tarmac of Kilian. When confronted by DO Hardigan, Callum said that he was joining to “not feel helpless.”

“So,” I ask. “Do you still feel that way?”

This scrawny kid from Plantock River, only a couple hours from my house here on Aremis, who survived the horrors of the Vanduul attack, thinks about it for a few moments.

“I don’t think that feeling ever goes away … but now I know I’m not alone.”

[inexcon]

RSI Comm-Link: AREMIS POST: DAY 627: THE JOURNEY ENDS

DAY 627: THE JOURNEY ENDS

DAY 627: THE JOURNEY ENDS

2947.12.12 SET

by Sean Nazawa

The final part in a series following a class of recruits moving through the Navy’s training system.

A business executive has been abducted while in transit from a trade conference in the Xi’an Empire. Advocacy investigators were able to identify and track the kidnappers back to an abandoned comm relay. Intel suggested that they had hollowed out the interior, pressurized sections and transformed it into a small hideout. From a strategic perspective, the hideout was a nightmare: complete visibility against any approach, homemade proximity mines, and multiple bulkheads inside that could quickly be triggered to lock down and trap agents. The Advocacy has turned to the Navy for assistance in rescuing the hostage. A flight of Avengers were deployed to resolve the situation. They were currently keeping a wide berth of the relay, their trajectory insinuating that they were simply passing by.

A harrowing circumstance, for certain, as this type of scenario could easily prove deadly for everyone involved.

Thankfully, it’s not real.

This staged event is the final test that this group of Naval recruits will face before graduation. Although they don’t know this, their performance in this exercise will be reviewed by the Navy and even the Marines to determine where these recruits will be assigned. Intended to be as close to a real world operation as possible, the military have spared no expense in orchestrating the illusion.

The ‘outlaws’ are members of the Navy’s 208th Squadron, recently redeployed from active service on the Vanduul front, and many of them are enjoying this bit of entertainment. Bravo Flight leader Commander Harold Rifke spent the days before the exercise coming up with extensive backstories for the other pilots and capturing fake ransom demand vids that he’s been sending sporadically to Divisional Officer Edward Aino, the conductor of this simulated chaos, to forward on to the recruits.

I’m standing with Aino onboard a C&C ship, overseeing the entire wargame play out. Analysts and comms officers coordinate both sides of the engagement. The outlaw chatter is considerably more colorful; the 208th are really getting into their roles.

I watch the recruits’ ships disappear from the hologlobe. Under acting squadron leader Toulo Chalke’s orders, they’re breaking towards the comm relay. Aino listens intently as they relay their positions to each other. He shakes his head and takes a sip of sujin tea.

“Tell Rifke to hack their comms,” he yells over to the comms officer coordinating the outlaw channel, then glances at me. “They shouldn’t give away their positions.”

Over the course of the exercise Aino will continue to throw what he calls ‘surgical handicaps’ against the recruits. He wants them off-balance, to be the underdog.

I pick out the specific recruits among their brief clipped exchanges:

Callum Weaver is confidently adjusting the approach vectors of his flightmates. This scrawny kid from Aremis has really come into his own since beginning flight training and now acts as the number two for Chalke.

The acting squadron leader is a bit of a celebrity around the Forges. Even though his father is Beo Chalke, legendary sataball player for Jata SC, and his mother is Valina Razari, award-winning star of Tears of Time and Last Stand of Lidenvald (to name a few), to the recruits he’s just ‘Paladin.’ The nickname born from an incident that occurred three months ago where Chalke jumped in to help several recruits who were being bullied in the commissary.

“Sir, Rifke’s moved two flights to their position. He says they aren’t there.”

Aino grins.

Suddenly the outlaw comm channel explodes. The five ships that stayed back to guard the relay start calling out targets. The recruits drop the pretense and transition into combat updates. I hear Lyssa Vale, the brawler of the recruits, immediately mixing it up with the outlaw pilots.

Talkative on the comms, Vale is one of the most dedicated recruits I’ve seen. She is constantly pushing herself to a ridiculously high standard, putting hour after hour into sims, perpetually drilling herself and whoever she can loop into her training regimen. It seems to be paying off though; she’s ferocious in a fight.

The outlaws at the relay hold their ground as long as they can until virtual laser fire from the recruits finally take them down. With Vale providing cover, Weaver exits his ship and leads a pair of pilots into the relay to secure the hostage. They hope to finish their risky EVA before Rifke and two flights of outlaws race back.

The rest of the exercise is a single protracted brawl. The recruits do their best, but eventually the seasoned combat pilots of the 208th turn the tide. Weaver’s the last holdout, but he gets taken out just after he gets the hostage back to his ship.

Seven outlaws remain, the hostage is dead and the entire recruit squadron has been eliminated.

Two hours later, the recruits have gathered in Aino’s classroom for their debriefing. The room’s drenched in silence. Lyssa Vale is still wired from the op. Her leg bounces up and down as she glares ahead into space. Weaver aimlessly flips through his mobi. Even Chalke looks disappointed until he finally settles back in his seat and breaks the silence.

“Well, we almost had them.”

“Almost isn’t good enough,” Vale mutters.

“C’mon, Vale, you took out what, six? Seven?” Chalke seems intent on raising the spirits in the room.

The door suddenly opens and Aino strides into the room. He cuts a path to the front, powers up the system and loads all the captures of the exercise. He’s got everything: individual pilot cams, hologlobe recordings, comm chatter. For the next four hours, he walks them through the wargame, step by step. He grills them on each decision, why they made the choices they made, and what they would change in retrospect. There was no chastisements. No judgment on the actions of his recruits. It was purely objective analysis.

The recruits, however, seem locked in the loss.

Aino suddenly stops. He looks over the glum faces of the recruits in the room and shakes his head.

“You all need to grow the [redacted] up,” he mutters, tossing his pointer onto the desk.

That gets everyone’s attention. Aino draws out the pause and sits on the corner of his desk.

“Let me tell you all something. This job? The missions that you’ll fly? Any one of them can be a one-way ticket. It doesn’t matter if it’s the most routine patrol in the world, there’s always a chance that something could go wrong and one of you won’t come home. Now, I know you’re all sitting there, pissed off that you didn’t succeed. Let me let you in on a little secret: you weren’t supposed to. We did everything we could to stack the odds against you. Wilkes, remember your missile pod jam? I did that. Teague, your weapon overheating wasn’t an accident.”

The recruits exchange confused glances.

“You all saw failure, but I’ll tell you what I saw. I saw a squadron, working together, executing orders with precision and excellence. Chalke, you broke an engagement with an easy kill to drop flares and protect Kelso. Vale, you’d pick fights with pilots to get them away from teammates that were in trouble. Hell, feeding us the wrong position over your comms was genius. I thought we were gonna lose the op because of that.”

The recruits chuckle. Weaver gets some pats on the back. Aino smiles at them before he continues. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile at his recruits.

“You all did good. Yeah, you didn’t succeed. You lost people. But that’s the real lesson here. As a Navy pilot, you’re gonna be in these circumstances a lot. What we’re trying to do is condition you to act rationally in impossible situations. That doesn’t mean you’re always gonna make the right call. The real trick though, you gotta learn how to keep going. I know a lot of pilots, some of the finest pilots I ever flew with, who would rather be the one who gets punched out then have to go on without one of their squadron. You gotta be smarter than that. You gotta do your best. You got to look out not only the people beside you, but also for the civilians you’re protecting. Sometimes it’ll work out. Sometimes it won’t. Either way, you gotta pull yourself together and hit the next mission with a clear head. Now, I wish I could tell you how to do that, but you gotta figure that out for yourself.”

Aino studies the faces of the recruits.

“I’ve trained a lot of pilots, but I’ll tell you, I’ve never seen a class help each other as much as you do. I hope some of you get assigned together, but if you don’t, I hope you take that attitude to wherever you land because you all have something special.”

The room is silent for several moments. Someone gently knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

Rifke pokes his head in.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s all right, commander,” Aino says as he stands and grabs his pointer. “What can we do for you?”

“Well, sir,” Rifke opens the door and steps inside. Some of the other pilots from the 208th are outside. “We were wondering when you were done debriefing these Rorys, if we could treat them to some drinks. Vanduul don’t fight as hard as they did.”

Aino looks at his class. He gives a quick motion with his head for them to go. All the recruits slowly file out of the class to the cheers of the combat pilots outside.

Weaver lingers by the door, then turns back to Aino.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Get the hell out of here.”

Weaver smiles and leaves.

I wait as the door slowly clicks shut. Aino starts to quietly collect his things. I feel I have to say something.

“That was a nice speech, sir.”

“Was it?” Aino finishes packing up, then looks at me. “What I said should have terrified them. The other DOs like to say the Rubicon is the first moment they land on Kilian, but if you ask me, it never stops. Doing this job every day will challenge you to your core. The Navy has been my single greatest pride and has broken me in ways that even I can’t see.” Aino pauses. “But they’ll see. Everybody does.”

* * * * * * * * *

The class of 2947 graduation ceremony is held in the late summer on Macarthur and features over two thousand graduates in a variety of capacities. The flight academy alone is responsible for over two hundred. Aino surprised me and arranged for me to sit with the rest of the Divisional Officers for the ceremony.

I can see Arley Finn and Yen Hardigan, the two DOs from that first day on the tarmac that introduced me to the intense journey that Naval recruits faced. As I watch the proceedings commence, I can’t help but reflect on the variety of people I’d met on this incredible journey. All committed to the core tenets of the Navy and protect people like me.

The entire graduating class stands and repeats the same Oath that has been uttered by every Navy member for centuries:

Hear and witness that I do solemnly pledge, mind and body, that I will serve and protect the United Empire of Earth against all who would seek to harm it and its people.

That I will faithfully discharge the duties asked of me, and when called upon, I will defend the Empire with my life.

That I will be the sword and the shield. That I will not falter nor fail, but fight and win.

That I swear to do all in my power to act as a guardian of freedom and justice, as a champion of honor and valor, and as a true and proud member of the UEE Navy.

I finally spot Weaver, Chalke, Vale and the rest of my friends all clustered in the crowd, relishing each word of the Oath. And when they finish, their journey (and mine, I suppose) is over.

They are official members of the UEE Navy.

I talk briefly with Callum Weaver after graduation, just a brief conversation while he waits to receive his first posting, but I ask him about that first day on the freezing tarmac of Kilian. When confronted by DO Hardigan, Callum said that he was joining to “not feel helpless.”

“So,” I ask. “Do you still feel that way?”

This scrawny kid from Plantock River, only a couple hours from my house here on Aremis, who survived the horrors of the Vanduul attack, thinks about it for a few moments.

“I don’t think that feeling ever goes away … but now I know I’m not alone.”

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