Negari Aeythi is considered by many to be the most mature boy in his unit. To say that this is an achievement is really to over-estimate the abilities of the others, though, who more closely resemble a pack of feral dire-wolves than a cohesive Ghnootu fighting squad. This is unsurprising. Born out of a need to train a new set of srike-gunts (a direct result of heavy losses from a failed attempt to capture and hack a TC war-bot in a nearby system) a new batch of younglings have been scraped together and thrown into basic training. Young, inexperienced and, in some cases, just plain scared, the new recruits seem to be learning the ropes slower than any that they have had before.
‘Cadet Aeythi, how can I help you?’ The sergeant looks down on the boy with the contempt that only a father could muster and smiles thinly.
‘Sir. I wanted to let you know that there has been movement spotted in the Eastern trees by the high-high division, Sir. But they don’t know what it is. Sir.’
‘Have the high-highs linked to the other units to establish positions?’
‘Aye Sir. All are accounted for. Sir. Downtime just like us. Sir.’
‘Relax boy, you don’t have to ‘sir’ me with every damn breath – every other breath will do. It’s probably just a herd of animals passing through. Migration patterns or something similar. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Yessir. But si… Erm… But they report no heat signatures on the thermal-radars nor any obvious source for the movement. Si… The trees on that flank appear to be moving of their own accord, almost as if there’s some kind of wind. Sir.’
‘Wind, eh? We haven’t had something like that on Alww Eitbhe for quite some time. Not since the solar flares of 54.32.1. Any sightings or reports from other units?’
‘Nosir.’
‘Alright, wait here boy. My gut tells me that it’s nothing, or we would have sensed it by now, but let me check with the scriers and we’ll see if they can explain it.’
With that the sergeant rises to his feet and stalks off towards the com-tent, leaving Aeythi standing alone – uncomfortably – awaiting his return. After about five minutes or so he shifts stiffly, wondering if he’s ever going to get the chance to move again. His ocular ridges sting under the intense heat of the sun, and all three legs were feeling the burn of a particularly intense workout from the night before. Another five minutes passes with no word coming from the com-tent and no sign of the sergeant. This worries Aeythi, who has only ever had conversations of about sixty seconds or less with his commanding officer. The idea that something might take more than a brief exchange suggests to him that something might be wrong – perhaps worse than he had originally believed.
Meanwhile the other boys, noticing his absence, come to find him and promptly start to make fun of him. Aeythi’s dedication to orders and ambitious dreams of rising through the ranks is stark contrast to the rest of his unit. Most of them want to have fun, with pranking each other being their main pastime. A few of the more rowdy boys take the opportunity of training to hone their fighting skills and practice on the weaker recruits. What none of them are willing to admit is that the rigid rules and restrictions that are placed upon them have had a positive effect.
Five more minutes have passed and still no sign of the sergeant. By this point his absence has been noticed, and Aeythi’s continued attentive stance becomes increasingly a marker of concern.
‘Have you tried calling to him?’
‘Yes, Btontu, I have had a complete conversation with him while I stand here rooted to the spot. He sends his regards and asks you to make sure the safety catch is on your weapon – just so that you don’t shoot yourself. I’m less bothered!’
‘Well fuck you very much dude!’
‘You’re welcome, anytime.’
‘What I meant was, have you asked anyone to go find out what’s happening?’
‘No. I thought about it, but I doubt anyone would be brave enough to risk it. I mean, would you?’ Aeythi fixes his brother-friend with a meaningful stare.
‘I guess not,’ Btontu says with a sheepish grimace, ‘Remember what happened to Mnentor last month when he asked to go to the toilet?’
‘Gods yeah, he was unable to shit properly for a week!’
The boys laugh at this shared memory of their companion’s embarrassment, but underneath the mirth lies a strong desire not to end up in the same position. It is a bad day to annoy the sergeant.
‘In all seriousness though,’ Btontu sighs, ‘I’m beginning to get a bit worried now. You don’t think that there’s something wrong, do you? That we’ll actually have to fight something?’ As he talked, he gently shifted from foot to foot in agitation.
‘If we do then we will do our duty, I guess. I don’t think it will be an issue though. The sergeant’s gut said it was probably fine. Plus, there hasn’t been a TC raid in months.’
‘Well they’re in peace talks or something aren’t they?’
‘Think so. Not that that will make any difference.’
‘I’ve always wanted to go to a peace talk. I’d put a doo-doo fruit under each delegate’s seat and see what happened. See if I couldn’t start a massive argument and derail the whole proceedings.’
‘Or, you know, start a war…’
‘Nah. Wouldn’t come to that. Not over doo-doo berries. Maybe if I spiked their drinks or something, put lax-‘
‘SHH!’ Aeythi’s hand shoots out to cover Btontu’s mouth. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Mhhmnfufudmmm?!?!’
‘Shut up’, he hisses, crouching down and pulling his friend down with him. ‘I just heard a rustling, whoosh sound, and if I didn’t know any better I would have said that it was coming from the com-tent. Something is very wrong.’
Slowly, imperceptibly at first, the atmosphere around the camp starts to change. Groups that were happily scuffling with each other break apart and settle down. Another gathering of whakko players wind up the last few shots before leaving the pitch without a thought of clearing up behind them. Rising from the mess-tent tables, food is abandoned and left for the flies. As one, the boys move closer together, uniting gradually into a single, crouching huddle and move towards Aeythi and Btontu.
In the midst of the throng Aeythi stands tall. The boys look to him for instruction – the bonds between them reverberating through the air, invisible but very real.
He has never felt more alone.
AHF Writes 