DragonAether
A penguin undercover
- Joined
- Sep 21, 2017
- Messages
- 124
I decided to try to write a Sci-fi story while I'm working on my other project, so this should be the first chapter of my story "Seeking glory".
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The great day
Rokal was looking at himself in the mirror, trying to hold the emotion, he had been chosen to make the graduation speech, it was one of the greatest honor a cadet could achieve.
All six years he spent in the military school got through his mind while he was walking toward the hall in a storm of emotion, he was there, with his mates surround him and walking with them toward a new beginning.
As Rokal approached the microphone to start his speech, he was excited but scared by the size of the crowd. All the time he was talking, his mind was traveling elsewhere. As soon as he finished his speech there was loud applause, but he didn't really return to reality until they called his name for the diploma: the diploma that would build his dream's future in the ranks of the Centaurian's fleet. (Teresa’s version, sorry but I loved how you rewrote this, hope it isn't an issue.)
Destiny
“God damn stupid old space junk, why the hell you don’t work?!”
Rokal’s kicked the console so hard that the system got offline for a moment.
“Don’t be so hard with my lady, Rokal, she did great things in the past, what’s the matter? I’m sure it’s something that can be easily fixed.”
“What’s the problem Kersha? I would love if it was only about this space flying crap.
The freaking problem is that I graduated five years ago in one of the best military academies for what?
For piloting a damn scrapper in the middle of nowhere taking on board some useless stuff!
Almost all the other cadets in my class now are in the lines of the great Centaurian’s fleet, a couple of them are even the 105th Pulsar division! That’s the matter you damn komesh, can your whole unhonorable species be damned.”
Kersha sighed, those words hurt him a lot, old memories awoke and all the pain with them, but in all those years he learnt to take every punch and to go on without complaining.
“Prepare the cargo for the docking, we should be near Cancri Primax in two hours.”
Rokal got in the cargo bay to check the cargo, just some space debris, nothing he would have cared if they wouldn’t have granted his pay. He laid on the floor hoping that the cold steel would have chilled his mood. But the only thing that came on in his mind was the day when his request to enter the fleet got bounced for reasons that no one ever explained to him, he was wondering what kind of conspiracy was lurking in the dark against him.
“Come here Rokal, we are approaching the Jump point, do your job and dock this ship.”
The disappointed tone of Kersha didn’t help Rokal chilling either a bit, too little will he got back on the ship’s bridge, if you can call bridge that small place. Everything went as every time, a smooth dock to the station, without any mistake. As the door opened he squeezed the cargo out in less time he could, he needed a drink to chill out or he would have gone mad.
“Kersha, I’m going to take something to drink, do you want anything?” said Rokal with a malicious grin, just to joke a bit more on komeshes.
Kersha let that stupid comment slip on him. “You have two hours, then we have to go to Masrsa Secunda to renew the scrapping’s contract.”
“Oh right, this awesome contract.” Rokal spat on the “precious” cargo and went to the nearest bar.
The atmosphere of jump-points was the only thing he appreciated, all those people, you could encounter every life form of the known universe, war survivors talking about what they have been through, he frequently came across members of the fleet in those nearly regal suits, but hated to meet his academia’s mates, they always looked at him with disappointment and superiority.
He sat at the bar and ordered a Hinkski, that thing tears your stomach apart, but the effect worth the pain, and centaurians have good self-healing capabilities anyway. After the third the bartender refused to give him the fourth, he was drunk but managed to reach the exit by himself.
As he got out of the bar he dragged himself for a couple of retems and then fell on the floor.
After a couple of minutes, he opened his eyes, surprisingly everyone ignored him, strange, normally someone should have brought him to the hospital. Then he saw a crowd near one of the news screen, he managed to get near, everything was muffled but he managed to understand some words, “war”, “recruitment”, “victory”, he has been sure of what he heard once he saw the reactions of the people, centaurians and denubians were happy as children, komeshes lowered their head all together in a sense of dejection and started to pray.
He was sure, United Centauri was at war, no matter against who, once again, his people could demonstrate their superiority among the whole galaxy, this time he would have been with them fighting back to back for glory.
Kersha found Rokal drugged at the bar, drugged by the rhetoric of a broken system, that prefers an honorable death than an honorable life, that’s what he never understood about centaurians, their greed for glory.
The two undocked from the station, with Rokal still unconscious and Kersha afraid for the upcoming war and its consequences.
Kersha threw a bucket of fresh water right in Rokal’s face, making him hit the ceiling of the ship’s bed.
“Oh, my head, damn it, where are we? I was making an awesome dream.”
“Let me guess, you where slaughtering enemies?
Oh, it’s awful how repetitive you sound sometimes, do you even know against who you began the war?
Rokal blinked trying to get comfortable with the light around and emitted a dumb sound that didn’t help to make him seem smarter.
“I will tell, you began a war against the nibirians. Do you know why?”
Rokal felt extremely stupid and a bit confused.
“Of course you don’t, centaurians follow every decision of the war council as a planet follow its orbit, no matter what, and you have the courage to complain about hive-minded species, hypocrites. But I will tell you for what you are fighting, even if my words will count less than an atom of gunpowder for you.
In a nutshell, a week ago nibirans pretended Sol’s system to be given to them, they used the Art. 15 of the galactic code, sustaining that mankind is a mix between them and autochthonous and also showed proof of recent diplomacy with humans. As you may know, the council didn’t like the idea of losing a sector so easily, but the arguments where valid and the galactic court forced the council to cede the system.
A solution, they ceded the sector to nibirians and then declared a war to take back the sector, and why not some other systems. Major problems start now, nibirans has been supported by miolirs, that declared war to centaurians, and as a member of the United Galactic Empires, centaurians got the support from all the other members of the alliance.
Now we are in a total war, just a couple of outers empires are neutral, are you happy?”
Rokal jumped of the bed filled with an energy that surprised Kersha, more than he expected.
“Of course, this is awesome, maybe they will finally accept my fleet’s request.”
“Oh dear Kraken, please save him from his stupidity. By the way, we are in the Lkemje’s territory, they remained neutral to the conflict, we should be safe for a while.”
“No, screw that, my people need me, and as a citizen of my same empire you should fight for your empire, get me back, now.”
“Like hell, you will have to go over my dead body to take the key of the spaceship, and by the way, komeshes don’t fight for any empire, just for what they believe in and for what they think is good. It took us time to understand that, but we won’t return on our steps, we suffered too much, but it’s not something that centaurians are likely to put in the history books or either understand. Don’t even think to try to rent a ship, I already informed everyone that you are a threat level 1, so no alcohol, no ships and no weapons of any sort.”
“Here Kersha, request for landing on Keje Secunda in Jakkar possibly.”
A female operator answered the call.
“Hi Kersha, it’s a while that you don’t come here, your request accepted, landing pad 12b in Jakkar. We need to talk, Rosmundo’s cafe as soon as you can.”
-------------------------------------------------------
The great day
Rokal was looking at himself in the mirror, trying to hold the emotion, he had been chosen to make the graduation speech, it was one of the greatest honor a cadet could achieve.
All six years he spent in the military school got through his mind while he was walking toward the hall in a storm of emotion, he was there, with his mates surround him and walking with them toward a new beginning.
As Rokal approached the microphone to start his speech, he was excited but scared by the size of the crowd. All the time he was talking, his mind was traveling elsewhere. As soon as he finished his speech there was loud applause, but he didn't really return to reality until they called his name for the diploma: the diploma that would build his dream's future in the ranks of the Centaurian's fleet. (Teresa’s version, sorry but I loved how you rewrote this, hope it isn't an issue.)
Destiny
“God damn stupid old space junk, why the hell you don’t work?!”
Rokal’s kicked the console so hard that the system got offline for a moment.
“Don’t be so hard with my lady, Rokal, she did great things in the past, what’s the matter? I’m sure it’s something that can be easily fixed.”
“What’s the problem Kersha? I would love if it was only about this space flying crap.
The freaking problem is that I graduated five years ago in one of the best military academies for what?
For piloting a damn scrapper in the middle of nowhere taking on board some useless stuff!
Almost all the other cadets in my class now are in the lines of the great Centaurian’s fleet, a couple of them are even the 105th Pulsar division! That’s the matter you damn komesh, can your whole unhonorable species be damned.”
Kersha sighed, those words hurt him a lot, old memories awoke and all the pain with them, but in all those years he learnt to take every punch and to go on without complaining.
“Prepare the cargo for the docking, we should be near Cancri Primax in two hours.”
Rokal got in the cargo bay to check the cargo, just some space debris, nothing he would have cared if they wouldn’t have granted his pay. He laid on the floor hoping that the cold steel would have chilled his mood. But the only thing that came on in his mind was the day when his request to enter the fleet got bounced for reasons that no one ever explained to him, he was wondering what kind of conspiracy was lurking in the dark against him.
“Come here Rokal, we are approaching the Jump point, do your job and dock this ship.”
The disappointed tone of Kersha didn’t help Rokal chilling either a bit, too little will he got back on the ship’s bridge, if you can call bridge that small place. Everything went as every time, a smooth dock to the station, without any mistake. As the door opened he squeezed the cargo out in less time he could, he needed a drink to chill out or he would have gone mad.
“Kersha, I’m going to take something to drink, do you want anything?” said Rokal with a malicious grin, just to joke a bit more on komeshes.
Kersha let that stupid comment slip on him. “You have two hours, then we have to go to Masrsa Secunda to renew the scrapping’s contract.”
“Oh right, this awesome contract.” Rokal spat on the “precious” cargo and went to the nearest bar.
The atmosphere of jump-points was the only thing he appreciated, all those people, you could encounter every life form of the known universe, war survivors talking about what they have been through, he frequently came across members of the fleet in those nearly regal suits, but hated to meet his academia’s mates, they always looked at him with disappointment and superiority.
He sat at the bar and ordered a Hinkski, that thing tears your stomach apart, but the effect worth the pain, and centaurians have good self-healing capabilities anyway. After the third the bartender refused to give him the fourth, he was drunk but managed to reach the exit by himself.
As he got out of the bar he dragged himself for a couple of retems and then fell on the floor.
After a couple of minutes, he opened his eyes, surprisingly everyone ignored him, strange, normally someone should have brought him to the hospital. Then he saw a crowd near one of the news screen, he managed to get near, everything was muffled but he managed to understand some words, “war”, “recruitment”, “victory”, he has been sure of what he heard once he saw the reactions of the people, centaurians and denubians were happy as children, komeshes lowered their head all together in a sense of dejection and started to pray.
He was sure, United Centauri was at war, no matter against who, once again, his people could demonstrate their superiority among the whole galaxy, this time he would have been with them fighting back to back for glory.
Kersha found Rokal drugged at the bar, drugged by the rhetoric of a broken system, that prefers an honorable death than an honorable life, that’s what he never understood about centaurians, their greed for glory.
The two undocked from the station, with Rokal still unconscious and Kersha afraid for the upcoming war and its consequences.
Kersha threw a bucket of fresh water right in Rokal’s face, making him hit the ceiling of the ship’s bed.
“Oh, my head, damn it, where are we? I was making an awesome dream.”
“Let me guess, you where slaughtering enemies?
Oh, it’s awful how repetitive you sound sometimes, do you even know against who you began the war?
Rokal blinked trying to get comfortable with the light around and emitted a dumb sound that didn’t help to make him seem smarter.
“I will tell, you began a war against the nibirians. Do you know why?”
Rokal felt extremely stupid and a bit confused.
“Of course you don’t, centaurians follow every decision of the war council as a planet follow its orbit, no matter what, and you have the courage to complain about hive-minded species, hypocrites. But I will tell you for what you are fighting, even if my words will count less than an atom of gunpowder for you.
In a nutshell, a week ago nibirans pretended Sol’s system to be given to them, they used the Art. 15 of the galactic code, sustaining that mankind is a mix between them and autochthonous and also showed proof of recent diplomacy with humans. As you may know, the council didn’t like the idea of losing a sector so easily, but the arguments where valid and the galactic court forced the council to cede the system.
A solution, they ceded the sector to nibirians and then declared a war to take back the sector, and why not some other systems. Major problems start now, nibirans has been supported by miolirs, that declared war to centaurians, and as a member of the United Galactic Empires, centaurians got the support from all the other members of the alliance.
Now we are in a total war, just a couple of outers empires are neutral, are you happy?”
Rokal jumped of the bed filled with an energy that surprised Kersha, more than he expected.
“Of course, this is awesome, maybe they will finally accept my fleet’s request.”
“Oh dear Kraken, please save him from his stupidity. By the way, we are in the Lkemje’s territory, they remained neutral to the conflict, we should be safe for a while.”
“No, screw that, my people need me, and as a citizen of my same empire you should fight for your empire, get me back, now.”
“Like hell, you will have to go over my dead body to take the key of the spaceship, and by the way, komeshes don’t fight for any empire, just for what they believe in and for what they think is good. It took us time to understand that, but we won’t return on our steps, we suffered too much, but it’s not something that centaurians are likely to put in the history books or either understand. Don’t even think to try to rent a ship, I already informed everyone that you are a threat level 1, so no alcohol, no ships and no weapons of any sort.”
“Here Kersha, request for landing on Keje Secunda in Jakkar possibly.”
A female operator answered the call.
“Hi Kersha, it’s a while that you don’t come here, your request accepted, landing pad 12b in Jakkar. We need to talk, Rosmundo’s cafe as soon as you can.”
