SCBM
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New Project Draft
🕑 Added 2023-09-15 05:13:26 +0000 UTCHere is the first 2k words of my next project, draft quality so bear with me. I haven't quite figured a title yet, but I'm thinking something along the lines of Vanguard. Or, Sphinx Team, or Team Sphinx. WIP. For context, this takes place about three months after The Battle of the Folium Nebula.
***
Stepping out onto the main torus of the Hub would never get old. The moment the pressure doors slid open to reveal the main habitat, clogged with people every way one looked, the residential and commercial buildings extending into both directions, it inspired a feeling of splendour you just couldn’t replicate on a planet.
There was no ceiling, or at least it wasn’t visible, the entire ring of the station completely in view from the city street, and in a way that was exactly how the habitat felt, just one huge strip of metropolis plucked right from one of Earth’s sprawling cities. He craned his neck up and to the left, tracking the sloping city into the distance.
The Hub resembled an armband that would fit comfortably onto a Colossus, and it was a little disorienting to be able to look up at any time and see the many quadrants looming up and above wherever one was standing. It was widely known for first-timers to immediately hurl their lunch into the closest trash container, but Ryan had been on enough high-g maneuvers in space that all he felt was a mild case of the butterflies when he craned his neck up.
The deck below his boots was a slate grey in colour, either made from C-loys or some kind of ceramic, the clocking of shoes drowning out the constant whirring noise of unseen ventilation shafts. Humans in both military uniforms and civilian getups walked by, some delving in and out of the buildings lining the street. They weren’t so much as buildings, but parts of the floor and walls that had been extruded outwards, their facades painted over to mock wood or bricks, furthering the illusion that they weren’t on a giant space station but someplace deep in a plant-sprawled city.
He swapped his duffel bag from left shoulder to right, tapping at the datapad in his hand as he reread his instructions. The Hub, as the habitat was called, was split up into a dozen small wedges, not unlike those found on analog clocks, and four of those were designated to the military quadrant. Hours from three to seven o’clock, if you wanted to get specific. Right now he was in hour eight, so he had to go downspin to get there.
People parted before him as he slipped over to the left side of the street. The ground wasn’t completely flat, there was just the subtlest of curves to it, making it almost feel like he was climbing the worlds shallowest slope, but it was imperceptible if you didn’t think about it. Which was kind of hard not to, given the open void above everyone’s heads.
Directly up and ahead of him, the ring narrowed as it distanced, climbing over the artificial horizon as it travelled up and up, the band of machinery sprinkled with lights spilling out from the thousands of structures lining the inner side of the ring. His nauseousness flared as he craned his neck all the way back to look at the opposing side of the station, flanked by the spinning stars dotted throughout the void of space beyond. He guessed the people living here built up a tolerance to the vertigo after a while.
Long planters packed with trees and foliage added a nice bit of greenery to the otherwise spartan landscape, a fake breeze making the leaves shake. Neon signs promising all sorts of entertainment passed him by, food stalls as well, and even what looked like the side of a stadium. This wedge must be more focused on commercial use, he wasn’t all that familiar with the station’s layout just yet.
The district transitioned into more functional structures as Ryan crossed into the military quarter of the station, a checkpoint in the street coming into view in the curve ahead. Holographic barriers drew a waist-high line through the street, a couple of soldiers standing guard nearby checking the papers of anyone looking to pass through. Beyond them he could make out buildings that resembled office blocks stretching into the sky, the flag of the Hub nation emblazoned on their colourless sides.
“ID please,” one of the soldiers said, Ryan rummaging through his duffel bag. The man was clad in a pressure suit covered over in armour plates, dark blue highlights painted down the obliques and shoulders. Most of his face was hidden behind a helmet, but the visor was open, a pair of eyes peering down as he took Ryan’s identification papers. He looked quite at ease for being a guard.
“Welcome to the Hub, Corporal,” the soldier said, his tone a little more respectful than earlier. “Mess hall 3B is down the road to the right, dead ahead in the wall.”
Ryan walked through the barrier, the projection distorting as he waded through the light. He could make out groups of soldiers in military fatigues in the clearings between the buildings, some running laps under the scrutiny of officers, others walking along in small groups, pouring over datapads and stopping to salute any officers passing by.
He followed the guards instructions, soon coming up to the wall he mentioned. The habitat was situated between two giant walls, looming hundreds of meters into the air, almost making it feel like the cityscape was built in between two metal canyons. There were apartments and other such complexes built into the towering facades, but behind them were the water systems, electronics, and other vital components that helped keep the station afloat. And beyond those was the armoured exterior of the station, keeping the vacuum of space away.
There was a square-shaped cutout extending from the base of the wall, fluorescents and signs helping the structure stand out from the colourless canyon that walled in the habitat. Hall 3B was signed above an archway, Ryan walking inside, the enclosing walls a nice reprieve from the roofless habitat outside, if that was the correct word.
Dozens of blended conversations greeted his ears, maybe fifty odd people lingering in the space just inside, dressed in fatigues not unlike the one Ryan was wearing. There were tables and seats arranged like a typical eating area one would find in any mess hall, but the smell of cooking food was absent, the kitchen on the far side absent of chefs. Doorways led off into other parts of the base, and he wondered how big the complex was, space wasn’t in abundance on the Hub.
He checked the time on his watch as he moved over to the rear of the gathered procession, some of the men glancing back at him as he tossed his bag on a vacant seat. He was a minute off, good thing he hadn’t ogled at the station any longer than he already had, missing your briefing wasn’t a great way to start your assignment.
“Alright, listen up everyone!” someone on the far side of the hall shouted. It was a Captain judging by the insignia on his shoulder, his arms folded as he appraised the gathered men. He rolled his r’s a little, his deep accent reminding Ryan of Slavic or maybe Polish. “I know most of you don’t need an introduction, but for the sake of our newcomers, my name is Captain Adamski, and as of right now, you belong to first platoon of the Aeroassault Division. Congratulations.”
There were a few hushed words exchanged as the gathered soldiers glanced around. Ryan had never heard of an Aersoassault division, it must have been formed recently.
“You will all be undergoing standard evaluations for the next three months, everyone willing to join the forces of the Hub must be reevaluated on their basic training.” There was a collection of groans from the procession, Adamski raising his hands defensively. “Now now, don’t think we’ll be putting you through boot camp all over again, you’ve all got the records to prove you know your stuff, this is morso a way to familiarize yourselves with Hub equipment and stratagem. This program will also allow our…. particularly new recruits a chance to see how us humans do our jobs.”
The Captain nodded pointedly to the side, Ryan following his gaze until his eyes rested on a splash of colour. Standing off to one side of the gathered humans were a group of Balokarid, an alien species that had formally integrated into the Hub civilisation not long ago. He had read reports about them of course, seen pictures, but he’d never seen one in person, and the descriptions didn’t do the aliens justice.
They were tall, about eight or nine feet high, standing on pairs of digitigrade legs, their feet ending in three clawed toes. On the backs of their arms were huge quills connected together by thousands of small feathers, Ryan realising they were wings. Their heads were covered in ornate headdresses, though if that was how they actually looked, or were just decorative hats of some kind, he wasn’t sure. The front of their faces were beaked, the aliens angling their long faces in small, precise movements. There were three of them in total, clad in what looked like metal cuirasses, their waists obscured beneath long, billowy skirts. It was hard to imagine Ryan not noticing them earlier, they stood out like sore thumbs, each one more colourful than the last.
“Kith Shaliyya here wants to see how a mixed species unit can operate in a firefight,” Admaski continued. “She and Senator Astera think there could be some potential combining our tactics with their technology, so don’t slack off, you’re all representing humanity during your time here.”
One of the aliens, Shaliyya presumably, bowed her head as the humans stared. Unlike her counterparts, she was dressed in a much more decorative garb. She had a vest with silver trimming strapped over her chest, the breast decorated with alien runes who’s meaning was lost on Ryan. The vest tapered into a long robe that clung to her thighs, the fabric almost resembling black leather that complemented her bright red feathers. Her most prominent feature was her headdress, colourful quills with eyespots on the ends bristling out of her scalp and neck, too large to be a natural extension, though it certainly blended with her feathery coat.
“Now,” Adamski continued. “You should have all received a team number along with your transfer papers, these will be your new squads for the remainder of your training. I’ll be taking the lead on team four, teams one two and three will be headed by the Sergeants over there, so now that we’ve exchanged pleasantries, everyone find your designated squad, hurry up!”
Everyone rose from their seats, Ryan checking his papers again as everyone shuffled towards their designated zones. He was in team four, so he made his way over to Adamski, turning his head to see that the aliens were moving in the same direction. As he watched them, he saw one of the aliens was looking back. This one had feathers the colour of rust, a red so deep it bordered on brown, her yellow eyes like two coins staring back at him down the length of her silvery beak. There was something about the way she looked down her beak at him that made him feel like his very soul was being scrutinized. She didn’t break eye-contact, even as the seconds dragged by. From all accounts the aliens were quite friendly, was this some sort of intimidation tactic on her part?
He wasn’t about to back down, this was a human station after all, and as Adamski had said, he’d be representing humanity during the program, it wouldn’t do to back down so quickly. A moment later and they were barely a few meters apart, the rest of team four comprised of two other humans. Ryan was soon forced to break the staring contest when Captain Adamski drew their attention.
“Think this is everyone, good. As you can see team four, you have the honour of being the pioneers of for our mixed species program. I trust you’ll give our Balokarid friends a proper welcome, they are our only allies in this war with the Confederacy.”
He was directing his gaze towards Ryan and the other men, who gave the birds a few suspicious glances. The lead alien, Shaliyya, stepped forward, her headdress bobbing as she nodded to the Captain. She looked like some kind of shaman with that thing on.
“I wish to reciprocate the Captain’s words,” she said. She had a vaguely, American accent, made all the more prominent due to her alien heritage. “We are honoured to be a part of this nation’s ground forces, and you shall have our utmost respect for allowing us a chance to demonstrate our capabilities.”
“The Kith here will be staying in the officers headquarters during the program,” Admaski added. “She’s here to advise the Balokarids as much as you all are, don’t make a habit of disturbing her if it isn’t important. First things first, which one of you is Corporal Bradford?”
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