Tag: Chewing Vacuum

Chapter Five: Limits, Absolute Limits, and a Nudge

S.C. Davenport Leave a comment

Five Months Ago

“Malnix!” Sergeant Gammon’s voice bellowed from just behind her, “If you don’t get your sorry excuse for an ass up, and over that wall, I’m not sure they’ll even be a place left for you in my Corps! Now get your pansy ass up and over!” 

“Sir, yes, sir!” Jahenna panted, picking herself up on thin, raggedy arms that buckled under her. A cut on the side of her arm burned from sand clinging to blood, and she could feel the grit of it shift against her as she forced herself up. 

Without thinking about it this time, she threw herself against the seamless vertical two-and-a-half meter wall with a clash, her jump still not high enough. She crumpled back down to the sandpit she’d just risen from, already scampering to stand back up as another recruit leaped over her. Finding purchase at the very top of the wall with their fingers, the recruit hauled themself over, practically falling over the other side of the wall. 

Jahenna, already frantic to pick herself up and try for a fourth time to get over the wall, didn’t see the recruit’s foot as it uncontrollably came up, smashing square into her face heel first. White light and the smell of iron and something wet on her face flooded her senses, and she felt something disconnect painfully from the roof of her mouth. 

She landed on the sand again, flat on her back. 

Jahenna coughed wildly as she rolled to her side, spitting out blood and bits of broken tooth as she tried not to drown in her own fluids.

“Malnix!” Sergeant Gammon yelled at her again, “stop helping other recruits over that wall with your face and start helping yourself! Get over that wall!”

She tried to say something to the affirmative, but only slurred out the words in a jumbled, bloody mess of vowels. 

Push, the raw emotion inside her commanded.

Push. 

Do not stop; keep pushing. 

They will never respect you if you don’t do it yourself.

Don’t stop.

Push.

With eyes watering and face covered in blood, Jahenna crawled on her hands and knees to the wall, gasping for air. She pressed her shoulder against the wall, then forced herself forward—sliding up the wall uneasily as she winced in agonizing pain. 

The world was hazy; down was ahead of her, and to her right and left was up. Her vision swam as she held a hand out to the wall to steady herself, then stepped away, looking up at the wobbly top. 

Get over it, the raw willpower inside her commanded. Just get over it! Push though the pain!  

She stepped forward to try again…

…and collapsed into a rubbery sack of limp bone and meat against the wall itself.

* * *

When she woke up, Jahenna found herself propped up against pillows on a bed in the infirmary. 

The first thought to run through her mind was, what am I doing here? 

The second was realizing she never made it over the wall.

She knew she wasn’t getting washed out of training…not yet, at least. Worst case—and this would probably end up being the case, she knew—she’d be recycled to the next training regiment after having a chance to heal, and carry on with a new group.

But she didn’t want to recycle. 

She didn’t want to do the last two weeks all over again, and she especially didn’t want that black mark on her record; “recycled.”

Jahenna either did things right the first time, or she didn’t do them at all. She hated half-assing anything, and this felt like half-assing it.

Was she just not good enough?

Was she just…weak? 

…was doing this even worth it? 

Maybe Dad was right. Maybe she should just let good things happen to her. Take advantage of the opportunities presented instead of looking them all in the mouth and feeling judged for it. She’d still get to go through school, she’d just end up a little more sheltered than she wanted to be. 

A little more beholden to others than she wanted to be. 

A little less of the person she wanted to be. 

…

Jahenna didn’t realize she’d been sobbing until a visitor approached her bed, and she quickly stowed her emotions away before they were noticed. 

Her visitor was escorted to her bed by a nurse in white corpsman scrubs, who then fetched an unseen chair off to the side and then quickly left, giving them some privacy. 

“You’re awake,” the visitor said, and it was only then she realized it was her bay mate from the barracks: Brom Bowdoin.

He was a self-described country-moon boy from Lacaille, and he fit the part: over two meters tall, with thin, lanky limbs that seemed disproportionate compared to the rest of him, and a thick drawl of an accent. He wore standard fatigues over his scrawny frame, and sported the same close-cropped buzz cut that every recruit wore—including Jahenna herself. 

“…what’s going on?” She asked him, feeling incredibly self conscious that her bay mate would feel obligated to visit her like this. 

“Wanted to see how you were holding up,” Bowdoin said, careful to keep annunciating his words to try and break through his accent—something that Sergeant Gammon and the other Drill Instructors were trying to instill in him now, before they spent time on the radios later, where it would become a serious determent. 

“I’m here,” Jahenna sighed. 

“Yeah, and there’s a reason for that,” he said. “You fell. Bonked your head pretty good, too. Nobody’s above me to keep me awake at night with their snores while you’re in here, so I wanted to come check on you.” 

“…you’re here on your own?” She asked. “You spent time to come see me?” 

“Wouldn’t you? If it was me in here ‘steada you?” 

Jahenna thought for a moment…

…and found that no, she wouldn’t have. She would have written another useless letter to her father, or her brother, or maybe just cleaned her rifle again rather than go see someone. There was no room for other people, a trait she’d learned from her father…and she felt bad about that. 

She decided she would improve on that for the future. 

“…thank you,” Jahenna said. “I just…I don’t know what to say to that.” 

“Don’t say anything then,” Bowdoin mused, grinning. “Just enjoy the time off and the free dental work. You looked right funny with no front teeth, lemme tell you. Chalet really got you good when he fell over that wall.” 

“Hurt like hell, too,” she said, not sharing in his amusement but rolling her eyes all the same. 

“I’m…glad to see you’re doing better,” Bowdoin said. “You know how long you been here?”

“A few days, right?” 

“Two,” he said. “Today’s Sunday. Only way I could get liberty to come visit.”

“Well…again, thank you,” Jahenna said, forcing a smile she didn’t feel like. 

Bowdoin smiled something more authentic at her, as if trying to imply he not only knew how she felt, but that it was okay to feel hurt like this. 

“I wanted to come by to see how you were,” he began, “and…well, to just talk with you for a little bit.”

“Yeah?” She asked. “What about?”

“That blasted wall,” he said. “I saw you really struggling with it.” 

Jahenna relaxed her back, sending her a few centimeters deeper into the pillows behind her. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. 

“You might want to,” Bowdoin said. “They’re recycling you for sure after all that dental work.”

“I figured,” she said, feeling another tinge of guilt and sadness again. 

She hadn’t been good enough…or strong enough, it seemed. 

“That ain’t a bad thing,” he said, picking up on her nuance. “Hell, I got recycled myself because I couldn’t hack this ‘standard gravity’ business; I don’t know how you Shorties do it, but you do. I did the first two weeks over again, then recycled into your training class for my second run.”

“Really?” Jahenna asked, suddenly connecting events from when they’d first met: why Bowdoin was so prepared, why he was so put together, why he was already knowledgeable about how to make their bay ready for inspection…

“R-e-a-lly,” he said, enunciating the vowels in an almost comedic effect. “It sucked when I got recycled. I was at my limit, but it wasn’t my absolute limit.”

“Your…’limit’?” She asked.  

“Something my first DI said to us…well, to me specifically when I was still struggling along,” he said. “It’s like, or at least how I put it together, ‘limits’ are like hard lines or barriers that you naturally want to stop at. You’re either afraid of what happens if you go beyond them or you just don’t want to supersede them like heat limits on an engine or a power supply, yakeen?” 

“…that kind of makes sense,” she said, implying the meaning of the Lacaillian slang on her own. “Kind of.” 

“Now, absolute limits are like a sort of finite limit; you can’t physically go beyond it. Light is like an absolute limit.” 

“And…what does that have to do with a regular limit?” Jahenna asked.

“You can’t cross it,” Bowdoin said. “It’s a hard line. No matter what you do, you can’t cross it. If you’re at your absolute limit, you’re doing everything you already can, and you just can’t go any further. Hard stop.”

Jahenna thought for a moment. 

“So…you’re saying you were just…’afraid’ or something about going past your limits, then? Until you got recycled?” 

“Yakeen!” he muttered, grinning. “You got it!” 

“And…when you did get recycled…you figured out a way to get…past your limit?”

He nodded excitedly at her.

“Well of course you figured out a way past your limit,” Jahenna said, careful with her admonishment to not sound cruel. “You developed the muscle mass to do it, you dingbat.”

Bowdoin looked at her like an animal in a vehicle’s headlights. 

“You got better at it because you practiced it. A bunch. You expanded your limits because you improved them; you had time to get better at it.You didn’t get over it like some fear. Come on, Bowdoin! You’re better than this!”

“But that’s exactly what I did!” He protested. “I manifested something, worked for it, and it happened!” 

Jahenna wanted to just sink into her mattress and just evaporate away. It wasn’t that she was negative, it was that this was unhelpful; none of this made any sense to her, and did not help her mood. 

“Oh, never mind,” she said defeatedly. “Ultimately, you’re saying I’ll just get better when I recycle and it’ll all be alright in the end, right?” 

“A’yup.”

“And what if I don’t want the extra practice?” Jahenna argued. “What if I don’t want to be recycled? What if I don’t want to get placed with a different regiment? I like the one I’m in right now; I just want to get out of this hell and just be done with it already.”

“And I wanted to get done with those first few weeks and just move onto the next thing, too…but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready!” 

“You weren’t because you hadn’t developed the muscles yet,” she sighed frustratingly. “I just don’t understand; how is any of what you just said not wishful thinking?” 

“Because I worked on it every day.” 

Jahenna groaned loudly, the agony in her voice filled the small space around her bed like water through a break in a dam. “…that is literally what I’ve been saying!” She said. “How? How is any of this different? I’m so confused…I don’t even—”

She stopped herself before she finished the thought.

“‘don’t’ what?” Bowdoin asked. “‘You don’t even’ what? Talk to me, Malnix.”

“Nothing.”

Bowdoin looked at her, then shifted his gaze as he studied her expression. His light-blue eyes were crisp and deep, and for a moment Jahenna thought she could see them sneak a peak into her soul. 

“You don’t think you belong here,” he said finally after a long moment, “…that right?”

Jahenna infinitesimally shook her head, and felt very small. 

Am I that obvious? She thought to herself. Am I that readable? I really am hopeless! I don’t belong here at all! God damnit, Dad was right.

“Oh, Malnix,” Bowdoin said, “you are a crafty one…but a confusing one, all the same. Why do you think you don’t belong here?”

She struggled to find the words, and settled on a whimper. 

“You are supposed to be here,” Bowdoin said. “You are good enough. It’s not about what you can or can’t do, it’s how you do it that matters.” 

“That makes about as much sense as that limit stuff,” she said, stifling tears. “What’s the difference between being able to do something and saying you can do some—”

Jahenna stopped speaking the moment the answer came to her, and rolled her eyes as she shifted in the bed. 

“‘Can’ and ‘Do’ are two different things,” he said, moving to sit his rear end on the mattress by her legs. “You…figured that out already though, didn’t you.” 

Jahenna nodded, still upset.

“You’re here because you want to be here,” Bowdoin said. “Not one reason more. You can leave any time, but you want to endure here. You want this, and you’re pretty convinced that you can.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she said softly. “Not everyone gets to be a Spacy. Hell, I don’t even want to be a Spacy that much anyway—this was all to pay for fucking college—”

“—Regardless of why you’re doing it,” Bowdoin interrupted sternly, silencing her protests before she’d even gotten rolling on them, “you’re still choosing to do it. The ends do justify the means, regardless if we want them to or not. And usually, they do—because we want them to.” 

Jahenna looked up at her friend, contemplating his words. 

“You belong here,” he said after a slight pause. “You can do this. I believe in you. And while you’re at your limit now,” he said with a slight flourish, “I don’t believe you’re anywhere near your absolute limit. For you, there’s always going to be a way up.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” She asked, the desperation and frustration exploding from inside her. “This—this is the part I’m hung up on with your limits. Your limit was gravity. You needed the muscle mass to develop so you could move around more and complete the objectives. My limit is height! I’m short! I’m a hundred and seventy two centimeters tall; how the fuck am I supposed to get up a wall almost twice my size, with no handholds or braces?! You grew new muscle; I can’t grow longer bones!” 

“…well,” Bowdoin began simply, his tone level and calm, “you just gotta figure out a way that doesn’t involve height.”

“How?!” Jahenna practically screamed. “It’s impossible! That’s like flying from here to Lacaille without using a Null-Jump!” 

“And yet,” he continued, “people still did it. It took a long-as-shit time, but people still traveled the Void between the colonies back in the day. It ain’t practical, but they did it.”

Jahenna paused to think. To argue. To fight and stand her ground. 

“They did it for centuries, too…right up until they figured out a new way to travel,” Bowdoin went on, “your aforementioned Null-Jumps. Did they have those back in the old days? ‘Course not! But when they finally figured out a way to make ‘em work…everything changed almost overnight, didn’t it?”

With a sigh, Jahenna relented. He wasn’t wrong, but arguing with him was like slamming into that wall again, and again, and again.

“…I don’t,” she began softly, “…know…how to get over it. The wall, I mean.”

“They always say the first step is admitting you have a problem,” Bowdoin said softly. “Something for you to consider, now that you admit you don’t know how to get up over that wall: you weren’t the only Shortie with a height problem, and a fair number of them still got over that wall well enough—some of ‘em were even shorter than you!” 

Something obvious clanked Jahenna in the back of her head. Of course she wasn’t the only short person on the O-Course—why hadn’t she thought of that? How had she not even considered that?”  

…because she’d been so focused on trying to get herself over the wall, she didn’t notice how others were getting over it at the same time. 

“I am an idiot,” she mumbled out loud to herself. 

“You’re a hyper-focused perfectionist,” Bowdoin corrected her. “Don’t beat yourself up too bad.”

“This isn’t me beating myself up,” Jahenna grumbled, sitting up in the bed again as her snuffles quickly dried away into optimism. “This is me kicking myself to a pulp.”

“Eh, who’s counting?” 

“Well you are, apparently!” She said to him. “God…I didn’t even think of that.”

“They used timing and the momentum of their leg swings to get over the wall,” Bowdoin said as he moved to stand up from the bed. “In case you wanted another hint.” 

Leg swings and timing. 

She could do that. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m…not sure if I would have figured that out on my own.” 

“Oh stop,” he glimmered. “You’re a smart kid, Malnix; you’d have figured it out eventually…I just gave you a nudge, and it was all you needed.” 

She smiled as a warmth built in her cheeks again, a warm, grateful glow that she’d experienced so little of as a little girl. 

“Thank you, anyway,” she repeated. “I really appreciate you coming by to see me, Bowdoin.”

“I appreciate seein’ you,” he said, “and seein’ that you’re gonna be alright is a big load off of my mind. Going to miss you, Malnix.” 

“With my snoring at night?” She asked. “I doubt that.” 

Bowdoin grinned. “Good luck to you,” he said, nodding his head in farewell. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Same,” she said. “You’d probably best be going…Sergeant Gammon isn’t one you want to keep waiting.”

“Hey, you…heard who your new DI is yet?” 

“No?” she asked. “Who is it?” 

“It’s Senior Drill Instructor Sergeant Kaveh Takes himself!” 

Jahenna’s stomach fell out underneath her. 

“He’s actually leading a regiment?!” She stammered in a mild panic. 

“Seems like it,” Bowdoin said. 

“Welp, I’m dead now,” she said. “Drilled to death by Gammon’s own boss, no less. He’s probably going to drill me extra hard because I’ve already done all this before…ugh!”

“I’ll send the nurse by when I pass her then,” he mused. “You take care of yourself, Malnix.”

“…you too,” she said from her bed. 

With a silent nod of his head and a warm grin, Bowdoin turned and walked away, leaving Jahenna to contemplate how she was going to navigate the Senior Drill Instructor himself. 

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Chapter Three: Traveling Companions

S.C. Davenport Leave a comment

“So…what exactly is an ‘Espatier’?” Rence asked jokingly as they walked through the auxiliary parking lot beside her. “A big, glorified Space Marine?”

Jahenna gave her brother a look that could peel paint at twenty meters, laden with enough weaponized sibling hate and malice that the promise of death was the only conceivable escape. 

“How can I put this in ‘simple’ terms for you to understand?” She mused, walking in the hot sun just behind him. “An Espatier is a Space Marine in the same way…a business loan is to an insurance policy.”

“That…doesn’t make any sense,” Rence said.

“Neither does your comparison,” Jahenna quipped. “Marines, for example, don’t work in space; they work on the ground, and dominate the air, land, and sea of the planet they’re stationed on.”

“That’s what I said,” Rence argued. 

“That is not what you said,” she quipped again. “Espatiers, on the other hand, don’t just work in space, they live in space; they own the stars, orbits, and everything beneath.”

“…what’s the difference?” 

“Marines chew crayons,” she said. “Espatiers chew vacuum. Brother, I love you, but you’re venturing down a path that will not end very well for you if you keep going.”

“Really?” He asked not-so-innocently. “How so?” 

“…do you really want to find out?” She asked. “Bear in mind, I know how to kill people with my finger.”

It dawned on him then that, although he’d been joking…perhaps she wasn’t. 

“…maybe not.”

Jahenna shook her head as she smiled. 

“You…erm…sure you don’t need any help with that?” He asked her again, after watching her haul the canvas duffel over her shoulder past another car.

“I got it,” she said. “Why, you think I can’t?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered. “I just…I hope you’re not thinking I couldn’t in this gravity,” he protested. 

“Why would I think that?” Jahenna asked. 

“Gravity was…always a bit much for me here.”

“Well of course it would be a bit much on you,” she said. “You grew up on Kasper, in a third of the gravity of this place.”

“Oh yeah,” he quipped, his own voice suddenly becoming cheery. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“Rence, do you ever stop with the bad jokes?” She asked. “Because in the past fifteen minutes I’ve only wanted to choke you out three times. How is it that nobody has murdered you yet?” 

“Armed security officers in my apartment complex,” he stated matter-of-factly. “When you’re a bank manager like I am, you tend to get perks like that.”

“I bet,” she mumbled, silently cursing out her Dad’s nepotism for her brother. 

After walking a few more rows, Rence approached a large, six-seated blue monstrosity that promised a fully automated driving experience, complete with luxury comforts only found in the latest of land-based autonomous vehicles.

“Nice rental,” Jahenna said as Rence opened one of the doors for her. She tossed the canvas bag inside, leaping in behind it. 

“Thanks,” he said, climbing up into the chair closest to the door with a labored grunt. He sat for a moment, breathing deeply, before dialing in commands to the vehicle’s interface.

“You alright?” She asked him nervously, reaching into the duffel and for her tablet.

“Fine,” he said, still panting a little. “Just…did some extra gravity therapy earlier today, before I caught your graduation parade and met up with you. Between all that and the walk back out to the car…I’m just beat.”

He tapped the ‘engage’ icon on the interface, and the rental began rolling itself out of the parking space to the exit. It accelerated once it cleared the parking lot, moving quickly along various connecting roads to the the onramp, before merging into traffic on the highway. 

“Not to pry,” Jahenna asked nervously, “but you…haven’t talked to Dad still, right?”

There was the briefest note of hesitation in Rence’s eyes. 

“No,” he said, uneasy about the subject. “No, I haven’t talked to him.”

“Sorry to bring it up,” she said. “He…ended up doing the same thing to me that he did to you when you went back to Kasper. When I joined the Espatiers, I mean.” 

“When’s the last time you spoke to him?” Her brother asked. 

“Enlistment processing.” She said. “Had to tell him I ‘arrived safely’ to the Recruit Depot. We couldn’t say much. All he said was ‘good’ and hung up.”

Rence closed his eyes and rolled his head back against the headrest. 

“Not to keep bringing it up, but…when I wrote to you two, I didn’t expect any letters back from him, not after what he said before or during that forced phone call…but I just…I hoped I could just convince him that I wasn’t…choosing to hurt him; I just wanted to earn my own way. I wanted to make him understand that, and I guess I let that hope get to me.”

“I hear you,” he said. “I hear you loud and clear…but these days I think he’s just incapable of hearing anything that contradicts him. I haven’t been keeping a close eye, but I heard he’s fallen ‘out of favor’ at the university as of late.”

“Yeah,” Jahenna said with a knowing grin and sigh, “yeah he’s…had some interesting ideas about the ancient alien life here. Things that didn’t really sit well with the rest of the faculty.” 

“‘Sit well’?” Rence asked. “He practically called them all frauds.”

She cracked a smile, remembering the fallout from only a year ago. 

It had been the beginning of the end of their relationship; the first few cracks in the dam.

She felt sad about it. 

“For what it’s worth,” her brother added solemnly, “I’m sorry he did that to you. I’m sorry you had to go through that, then go through Basic. Being on my own and finishing my BA on Kasper was one thing, but I had you to fall back on; you didn’t have anyone…”

He trailed off as the rental continued speeding down the highway. 

“I’m really sorry I left you out to dry like that,” he said. “I didn’t know about you and Dad.”

“We already talked about it,” Jahenna said. “It’s alright.”

Rence wiped at his face with his hand, then leaned back into his chair. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

As the silent moment turned into another, Jahenna turned away to look out the window. The landscape outside had shifted from the quiet but well lived-in urban environment near the Recruitment Depot to a semi-flat desert landscape that stretched for miles. Proxima Prime wasn’t necessarily a uniform biome, but its principal one was a desert. Even bugs were sparse. 

“So,” Rence asked, sitting up and eager to start a new subject, ”’two standard weeks’ you say?” 

“Three hundred, thirty-six hours,” she said, clarifying the exact conditions of her liberty. “After that, I’m to report to Bar-Hassan for the next stage of my training. And after that, I get to find out what I’ll be doing for the next six years.”

“Wait,” Rence asked suddenly. “Six? I thought you’d be in for four.” 

“They tack on two years for travel and light lag,” she explained. “Not much I can do about it. If I happen to see stuff on the way it’s not so bad, I guess. Learn new skills and see weird things.”

“Assuming Tau Ceti plays ball,” Rence said. 

“Pfffff,” Jahenna scoffed. “Tau Ceti can suck my dick,” she said in an angry, dismissive groan. “We’d wipe the floor with them the moment they tried anything.”

Rence looked at her with a wily expression of surprise at her reaction. 

“Wh—” he stopped himself, trying not to suddenly start laughing. “What did you say?” 

“You heard me,” she said. “They can kiss my ass; they can pound sand. They’ve been posturing for years; we don’t have anything to worry about from them. Not one iota.” 

“They’ve managed an information blackout for the past three months,” he said. “That’s not exactly easy.”

“It’s not exactly hard either,” Jahenna said, adjusting her seat to face her brother more directly. “All you need to do is stop sending messenger drones.” 

“Yeah but…ships that travel through Consortium space haven’t been seen coming out,” he continued. “They’re like a black hole; nothing comes out, I mean.”

“If Tau Ceti wants to play isolationist again, let them,” Jahenna said, her voice growing more irate. 

“Still, the information blackout has a lot of people…well, worried,” Rence added hesitantly. “Myself included.”

“So we’ve stopped hearing them boast, moan and threaten us—what’s not to like?”

“That…they might attack?” 

“And what are they going to hit us with?!” She asked, suddenly cutting him off at the knees. 

She’d had enough. 

“They’re over a century behind us in ship design, engine efficiency, and weapons,” Jahenna said angrily. “They still use antimatter! They don’t even have subliminal warp!”

“They figured out how to pull off a Null-Jump,” Rence said. “They’re not stupid.”

Jahenna sighed. “No, but they only figured it out after salvaging enough of our messenger drones to figure out the basics,” she countered. 

“It took us almost two hundred years to figure out how to jump across the stars—they did it in just forty. That has to count for something.” 

“It took us that long because we weren’t even sure it could be done at all!” Jahenna said sharply. “They did it in forty because they saw us doing it, they just didn’t know how until they figured it out! You’re convinced they’re going to attack, and I’m trying to tell you there’s no way—no way in hell—that they would do that.” She reiterated. “It doesn’t make any sense. What would they gain from it? We’d decimate them the moment we saw their engine blooms or mass wake from a jump.”

“But—“

“—Their ships are literally tin cans, Rence! You could sneeze at them and they’d explode! They know this!”

“Alright, alright,” he said, throwing his hands up. “Sorry to argue. I just…I guess I’m just worried over nothing, then.”

Silence filled the cabin again as the two siblings stood down from their respective sides. 

The rental continued on, and Jahenna went back to looking out the window. 

“You know what,” Jahenna announced suddenly, “I don’t want to think about Dad or Tau Ceti or even the Espatiers for the next two weeks; is that possible? Can we do that?”

Rence snapped his fingers. “Done,” he said, his smile filling his face. 

An idea crossed Jahenna’s mind.

“…what if we meet up with Greveen or Vijer?” She asked, turning around again to face her brother. “Maybe they could come camping with us?” 

Rence paused for a moment, a hesitant look hanging on his face. 

“What?” Jahenna asked. 

“I…thought they would have written you or something,” he said. “Greveen went off-world to Kasper for University four months ago. Vijer is…I haven’t heard from them since you left. I think they said something about going to Undjunjar, but that’s all I know.”

Jahenna’s face became sullen. “Oh,” she said, defeated. 

“…sorry to break the bad news,” Rence said.

“It’s alright,” she said. “Had to find out anyhow. What about you and Gillory? I haven’t seen her in a long time, and you two were…you know…”

Rence smiled. “We…um…decided to take some time apart.“

“Oh,” she said again. “I’m sorry. Didn’t know that.”

“How could you?” Rence laughed. “It’s alright. We’re not fighting or anything; she just said she needed some space and I was getting beat up under pressure from the bank anyhow. We still talk—it’s just a distance thing for now. She’s actually nearby on Faria right now working on one of the new crystal lattice arrays for one of the lasers.” 

“Huh,” Jahenna said. “Well…um, okay then.”

Rence chuckled a little, though a tint of moroseness hid in his voice. “She’s…bucking for a new contract with the power company over that array. Supposed to get twenty percent more efficiency with less focal burn out.”

“Hope it works out for her,” Jahenna said. 

Silence again. 

The sound of kevlar tires rolling down the highway wasn’t exactly deafening in the luxury cabin, but it was audible enough to fill the empty void between them.

Jahenna went back to staring out the window, where bleached rocks were already staring back at her as they passed by.

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Chapter Two: Siblings

S.C. Davenport Leave a comment

Packing her neatly rolled uniform into the large canvas duffle, Jahenna folded the bag closed and firmly tightened the string clasp. She looked around the barracks room she’d spent the last six months in, and allowed herself a brief moment of farewell. 

She’d changed so much here… 

Between the rows of bunks so awkwardly far away from the windows and cabinets that served as both divider and wardrobe for each bunk “bay,” it was not a place she wanted to stay in anymore…

…but after being called “home” for half a year, she couldn’t leave without at least saying goodbye to it. It felt silly, but it also felt right. 

That was just the way she was. 

With her hand faintly running along the bare mattress on the bottom bunk, she scooped up the canvas duffle by its handle, and slung the strap over her right shoulder.  “So long, Bay Twenty-Two,” she mumbled, giving one last glance over her little corner of hell. 

“And may I never see you again.”

Duffel over her shoulder, Jahenna maneuvered out of the barracks and into the open sunlight of an afternoon Proxima sun. 

She wore the best approximation of civilian clothing she could find at the PX: an athletic slate gray shirt branded “Espatier Corps,” with the Sword and Sextant emblem on the front, and a pair of black shorts. It wasn’t what she’d normally wear, but it would do the job while she traveled. 

For the next three hundred, thirty-six hours, she was on liberty; a vacation. It was a chance to seriously recover from all of the hell and torment from Espatier training, and a chance to heal wounds that had only been bandaged and patched up rather than allowed to fully mend. 

For two whole standard weeks, she could go where she pleased, wearing what she wanted, while eating whatever she liked…after that, it was on to Bar-Hassan Station, where she’d begin the next phase of her training: Light Orbital Mechanized Infantry Training, or “LOMIT school,” as everyone called it. 

Back to uniforms and a rote hierarchal organization. 

Back to stale air and bland food. 

Back…to the Espatiers. 

She’d endure being a soldier; she’d live the life and the experience, and be better for it, she had decided…but she also recognized how it would change her. Had changed her. She was a different person now than she was six months ago, and although she still had the same sense of wonder and curiosity about the alien ruins and fossils here on Proxima Prime, everything seemed so…distant now. 

This wasn’t what she wanted to do. 

Yet, here she was doing it anyway. 

The ends never justify the means, as the saying went.

It was going to be a long bus ride to the small hamlet she was spending her liberty. Harrow’s Landing may have been nothing more than a town with a beach, but it was also only an hour away; if she was going to be spending the majority of the next six years stuck aboard ships or trapped on a space station, she wanted to soak up as much sunlight and open sky as she could.

She was halfway to the Recruitment Depot’s transport station when a semi-familiar voice called out to her from behind: “Jahenna? Is that you?”

She turned to look, then nearly fell backwards.

Rence Malnix, her older brother, walked briskly to catch up her from behind. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt with an open collar, and wore dark, pressed slacks with shined shoes. His dark brown hair was still styled into spikes with frosted blonde tips, and his skin looked somehow more uncomfortably pale than she remembered him. 

“Rence?” She asked, surprised. “Is that…you?”

“In the flesh,” he said with a grin, holding his arms out. 

Jahenna dropped her duffel softly to the ground and gave her brother an unexpected, pre-programmed sisterly hug. 

“I…I didn’t…you…but…”

“I wanted to surprise you!” He said, embracing her as she stammered. 

“But…you didn’t…!” She protested. “I didn’t know you were coming!” 

“Because I wanted to surprise you,” he repeated. “Are you okay?”

“…n—no!” She said, despite the smile forming on her face, and the fire went out of Rence’s eyes. “I’m…I didn’t get any return mail! From either of you!” 

“I know,” he said meekly. “I just…I didn’t have time to write back.”

“…what were you doing?” She asked, the hurt making her feel bitter. “Were you trying to get Dad to sign on to some new investment plan for the building commission?” 

“Jahenna—”

“Do you know what I went through?” She asked, her voice sharp and pointed. “Do you have any idea about the things I’ve done? The things I had to do? Do you understand how hard it was? And to do all of that…alone? Without any support from what little family I actually have—or had? Do you have any idea how hard it was for me?”

Rence looked at her silently, but she could see his eyes working desperately trying to find something—anything—to say to her.

Absolutely pathetic. 

“Now you tell me you couldn’t find time to write—not even dictate—a single letterback to me?!” She asked. “After I did that for you while you finished your BA coursework on Kasper?!”

Rence’s eyes were hard now. Hard and morose. “I made a mistake—”

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped furiously, stepping back. “Don’t you dare try to tell me you made a mistake and expect to get out of this like Dad—and God help you if you’re like Dad and thought I was just off playing a stupid game.”

He held his hands up defensively at that. 

“Wait!” He protested sharply, “wait a second, I do not think you did this for…for attention or for fun or for anything like that—”

“Then what?” She asked, razor wire in her throat. “What made you so damn busy you couldn’t even spare five minutes for me? Were you dying? Were you sick? Because thats what I’m expecting to hear, and if it’s not, it better be a damn good reason why it’s neither of those things.”

“I was traveling,” he said. “I’m a shit for not being better about it, but I was traveling for the bank.”

Jahenna scoffed.

“I’ve been to Proxima, Kentarus, Sol, Bonfils, and back again over the past four months,” he pleaded.

“Not my problem,” she said, shaking her head and stepping further backward to where her duffel lay on the ground. 

“I fucked up,” he said, louder this time. “I admit it. I fucked up. I really fucked up, and I know it. I had the entirety of my travel time to write you, the downtime between meetings and prep work to write you, the loading time, the transit time—even the freaking calibration time to write you back…and I just didn’t. And the only excuse I have is that I just kept putting it off because your training cycle was just so bloody long…”

Jahenna saw a tear roll silently out of one of his eyes, tracing a clear saline road down the faint stubble of his cheek. 

“I wanted to write back to you, Jahenna, honest to God I did; I just fucked it up. I kept putting it off and off and off…until one day I looked at the calendar and saw we were already at your graduation date. I made a mistake, and…and rather than just admit it or call myself out with it, I—

“Rence,” Jahenna interrupted as she clenched her fist at her side, “if the next words out of your mouth are not ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘I promise not to fuck up like this again,’ I will never speak another kind word to you for as long as you are alive. Do you understand?”

He stood there frozen, his eyes blinking tears that dribbled down his cheeks in the hot Proxima sun, absolutely unsure how to process what she’d said. Was it a threat? Was it a warning? A promise? 

Did Jahenna herself even know? 

“I’m sorry,” her brother said after what seemed like an eternity. “I promise not to fuck up like this again—or ever again, for that matter.”

The world around them continued on as if they were in a bubble of their own making; a private, shared universe of hidden trauma and sub-surface abuse that stretched as far as the horizon, and ended to where the sky began. The lawn around the walkway they stood on blew lazily in the breeze, and trees swayed in the distance. 

“Are you actually sorry?” She asked. “Do you know how much this hurt?”

“…yes,” he said. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me. I’m here now, but that doesn’t excuse what I did—I need you to understand that. I need you to; I’m not like Dad. I—” 

He stopped himself before he started to ramble much further—another trait of their father’s, one he had always been especially prone to when he was nervous.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I really am.” 

He forced a smile at her, one laden with apologetic appreciation and acceptance.  

“Congratulations on your achievement,” he said, then turned to leave. 

Watching him turn to go after hearing him confess, Jahenna felt something shift inside her. She was still angry—pissed was the better word to describe what she felt—but for as much as she wanted to make him suffer, for as glad as she was to see him feel the hurt and remorse over what he’d done…it felt wrong. 

It was wrong. 

It was just like the barracks bay earlier.

That’s just how she was. 

Rence may be an idiot, but you know he didn’t do this on purpose, she heard herself think. He was trying to make it right by showing up unannounced; he knows messed up, and he was trying to both fix it and apologize. He still wants to fix it. He knows he made the mistake, he knows how much it hurt, and he’s not trying to fix it to benefit himself; he’s not like Dad. 

With a sigh, Jahenna relaxed her clenched fist. 

“Rence,” she called out softly. 

He didn’t turn around as he continued to walk away. 

“Rence!” She said louder.

“No,” he called out to her flatly from behind, “I’ve done enough harm today. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I’m leaving before I find another way to make things worse.”

“Then don’t leave,” she said. “You may have fucked up, but in the end you still made the time to show up. That counts for something—don’t throw that away too by leaving.”

That stopped him in his tracks, and he tentatively turned around to look at her. 

“I’d like to try again,” she continued, looking at his hopeful, teary eyes. “Besides, it’s…it’s good to see you.”

They stood silently for a moment in the middle of the battalion quad, each staring at the other under the hot sun, waiting for the other to react. 

“You…really mean that?” Rence asked. 

Jahenna flew herself at her brother, wrapping him in her arms as she cried.

“You asshole,” she sobbed. “You fucking stupid asshole…God I missed you.”

“I…missed you too, sis,” he said faintly, more confused than he probably intended to sound. He wrapped his own arms around her, and the two held each other as they both processed their grief. 

It was minutes before they finally released each other, Jahenna’s face red and swollen with tears, and Rence’s with a pained and guilty look in his eyes. 

“I…I made it,” she said wistfully, trying to change the subject to a happier one. “I’m an Espatier, now. I did it.”

“I always knew you could,” he said. “Even if I never said it, I knew you could do it. I’m proud of you, ‘Jenna.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Hey um…how much time do you have? Before you have to go, I mean.” 

“As far as the bank is concerned, I’m on some well-earned PTO,” he said. “I was…well, hoping I could spend some of it with you before you move on to the next leg of your training.”

Jahenna smiled. “I’d like that, actually,” she said. “I was…I have a small cottage booked out by Harrow’s Landing for the next two standard weeks,” she explained. “I was planning on just relaxing before LOMIT school, but I’m sure you could come with me if you wanted; I’m pretty sure I can amend the booking and—”

“What if,” he offered instead, “instead of Harrow’s Landing, we went camping?”

She looked at her brother with questioning eyes. 

“Camping?”

“Yeah,” he said, the charisma coming back into his voice. “Do you remember? Like when we were kids?”

“…vaguely,” she answered. 

“Dad was always running off to some nearby fault line,” Rence said, still trying to sell the idea, “Mom was always off by the creek…it was just us, tear-assing through the campsite, living in the sun and trees. Do you remember any of that?”

“…yeah,” she said, the memories coming back slowly. “Actually, yeah I do remember. I was…little, though. I haven’t thought about that in forever.”

“Look,” he said, “this is your vacation. You’ve earned it. I’d love to spend some time with you if you’ll have me, but you pick: Harrows Landing, a quiet little beach hamlet—which is also in its off-season right now, so mostly everything is closed up…or camping, something you haven’t thought of doing since…what, since Mom died?”

“Just about,” Jahenna said. “Maybe I just want something simple. Maybe I don’t care that most of everything is closed up because it’s the off-season; it’s cheap and there aren’t any obnoxious tourists to deal with. Maybe I just want to curl up on a lounge with an ocean view, a drink, and a good book—that thought ever occur to you?” 

“Well…yes,” Rence admitted, “but consider this: you can easily curl up in a lounge, with a simulated ocean view, sip a drink and read a good book on deployment…but you can’t do any of that with your brother.” 

“You could just come with me,” she repeated. “It’s really alright. 

“Yeah, but…c’mon,” he said. “It’ll be fun! S’mores? Cookouts? Hikes? You can show me all sorts of cool Espatier survival tricks, I bet!” 

Jahenna shook her head and groaned. 

“I’ve been cooped up in a ship cabin for far, far too long,” Rence said. “I need to hear the wind through the trees again and feel the sun on my face. I’ll go with you to the beach if you really, really want to, but take it from someone who’s been hugging light for the past few months: you can simulate a beachfront easier than a forest.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped herself. He had a point, as much as she hated to admit it. 

“Another thing to consider,” Rence continued, “is that camping might be good for us. Ever since I finished my BA and got that bank job, we’ve fallen out of touch…and I really screwed up not writing to you.”

“You really did,” she said, thinking. “Ohh…fine, you convinced me.”

“Convinced you?”  

“Let’s go camping,” she said. “As long as I can sleep under the stars.” 

“If you want to wake up to bug bites,” Rence said, “I won’t stop you.”

She smiled as she finally moved back to her duffel and picked it up. “I just need to cancel my booking,” she said, opening the canvas top and reaching inside for her tablet. 

“We can do it from my rental,” he said. “C’mon. It’s hot and I’m parked not too far from here.” 

Jahenna looked at him, then back out to where he pointed. 

“Well, lead on then,” she said, closing the duffel and hoisting it back over her shoulder. 

She grunted as the weight settled onto her shoulder again, but held steady as she began walking back to where her brother stood waiting.

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Chapter One: The Five Meter Dash

S.C. Davenport Leave a comment

“Recruits!” Drill Instructor Takes commanded. “Stand up!”

Jahenna Malnix shot up from where she’d laid down to rest on the cold metal deck and snapped to rigid attention with the rest of her training regiment, ready for instructions.

She was battered and filthy. Her uniform, a nearly form-fitting pressure garment the color of dried-up olives, was coated in an assortment of lubricants, oils, and other assorted industrial horrors—and that was just over the past seventy-two hours. The rest of her hadn’t had a shower in over a week; dirt and grime covered her darkly tanned face, while clumps of grease and mud hid beneath the few remaining strands of her short-cropped brunette hair. 

She was exhausted, beaten to the very brink by the cadence of her regiment’s training. 

That was by design, of course.

Everything in Espatier recruit training was survivable; it was enduring it that was the challenge. 

“Today,” she listened to Sergeant Takes orate, “you space monkeys get to run the ‘Dash.”

Jahenna whooped automatically with the rest of her training regiment, channeling her own anxieties with theirs into one singular, fanatical voice.

“Prep for zero-g!” Sergeant Takes ordered.

In a unified motion with the rest of the regiment, Jahenna kicked the backs of her boots—first her left, then her right. An alarm tone sounded in the background as the sensation of “down” began to shift to the side, then faded entirely as the compartment’s gravity spun down, leaving anyone without magnetic boots floating in free-fall. 

Still standing on the deck with his own set of magnetic boots, Sergeant Takes allowed himself a small grin before continuing. 

“Listen carefully to the instructions I am about to give you,” he began. “There are numerous ways to die during the ‘Dash. If you do not heed my instructions, you will end up going home in a bag, do you space monkeys understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Jahenna recited in unison with the recruits, though she felt a palpable amount of tension form in the air around her at Sergeant Takes’ admission. 

In the Espatiers, it was exceptionally well understood that space could kill you. 

Violently.

“You are going to advance into one of these airlocks,” Sergeant Takes said, motioning to the five compartment doors behind him. Several Corporals stood waiting to the side of each door, each ready to distribute the contents of a blister pack. “As you advance forward, you will receive one self-guiding syringe full of oxygen saturated blood plasma from the Corporals at the door. You will keep this syringe on your person, and then close and check the seal behind you to ensure you do not space the entire compartment. Failure to execute any of these instructed actions will result in an automatic wash-out.”

“You will then brace for rapid decompression by expelling all of your oxygen,” he continued. “Failure to do so will result in a rather painful death by way of rupturing internal organs as the atmospheric pressure is vented,” Sergeant Takes added, leaving his words open for healthy contemplation among the recruits. 

“As the oxygen is ventilated, your eardrums will rupture and your eyeballs will boil,” he said. “This is normal. As this is happening, you will move as far away from the outer door as possible, gripping the railing along the side of the airlock as you do so, before it cycles open. This is to insure you do not get blown out into space, where you will die a very lonely and painful death from exposure to vacuum…among other things,” he added with a cold finality that sent a chill up many of the recruits—Jahenna’s as well.

“After the atmosphere has been fully expunged,” the Sergeant continued, “the outer door will open. You will egress out of that door by kicking off of either the inner door or the same railing you held onto during decompression, and move ballistically five meters through hard vacuum, where you will then enter an open and waiting airlock on the other side.”

“Midway through your cosmic voyage,” Sergeant Takes added, taking well practiced steps with his magnetic boots to one of the Corporals next to the doors, “you will inject yourself with the aforementioned self-guiding syringe. This is to ensure that your brain will not become hypoxic. Let me make this abundantly clear: if your brain becomes hypoxic, you not only risk death, you risk brain damage.”

In a ventilation duct somewhere above her, Jahenna heard a fan begin to move air; it was deathly silent as the Sergeant issued his instructions—an omen to be sure, Jahenna thought.

“Do not forget to inject yourself,” Sergeant Takes reiterated. “Medical teams will be ready to receive you on the other side when you arrive.” 

“…one last thing,” Sergeant Takes added quietly, “your uniforms are rated for pressure loss—you are not. Keep your cool, remember to jam your needle, and you will be fine. This is the last place you want to lose it, so don’t. Thousands of Espatiers have endured the Five Meter Dash, and before the end of the day, so too will you.”

The frankness of his words hung suspended in the air like diamond-tipped daggers.

“…now,” He said, his voice returning to the familiar booming, authoritarian voice she’d heard endlessly in her sleep over the past six months of training, “do you space monkeys think you have what it takes to be an Espatier?!”

The chorus of recruits was unanimous, Jahenna’s among them: “SIR, YES, SIR!”

“Do you space monkeys think you can actually chew vacuum like Espatiers?”

“SIR, YES, SIR!”

“You think you have the Goddamn intelligence and common sense to leap out an airlock without a hab-suit?!”

“SIR, YES, SIR!”

“Out-fucking-standing!” Sergeant Takes boomed, his voice full of pride and power. “Fall out!”

Jahenna proceeded to fall out with the rest of her regiment, her boots clanking against the deck as she pivoted to turn, and hustled to one of the forming lines. 

Here we go, she coached herself silently as Corporals began distributing the oxygen saturated syringes to the recruits as they stood in line. She palmed hers nervously as the five airlock doors began to cycle open. Looking inside, they were cavernous: long and cylindrical, with brushed metal and mesh inserts for atmospheric venting and management. 

With the doors fully open now, a recruit from each line advanced inside the open door. 

They all looked incredibly nervous and irrevocably small once inside the mammoth airlocks…yet, proud. 

One by one, each recruit engaged the controls on an internal console just inside the airlock, and the doors began to cycle closed like ominous vaults. 

The doors sealed, and the sound of muffled pumps engaging wrought a new wave of silence among the recruits as a raging, silent tempest began growling just beyond—like a storm pounding the outer wall of a mountaintop chateau.

After several moments the doors cycled open again, ready to consume another.

Another five recruits ventured inside. The doors cycled closed, and the tempest resumed. 

Waiting for one’s turn became a relentless struggle for one’s sanity. Idle chatter had begun to break out among the recruits: words of encouragement and motivation. To Jahenna’s surprise, Sergeant Takes and his staff let the recruits motivate and counsel each other…and in some cases, console each other as they waited. Jahenna herself was starting to twitch in anticipation…even though she fully knew what to expect. 

Being spaced wasn’t just survivable, it was extremely survivable—like jumping out of an aircraft or free-diving. 

…sure, you didn’t go deaf from skydiving, and you probably wouldn’t develop frostbite unless you dove into exceptionally cold water and stayed there, but the comparisons were not that different. 

The point was perception; perception was everything, and this was no different. 

To Jahenna, the famous “Five Meter Dash” was no different than the famed “Gas Chamber” from the mid-20th century militaries of Earth: painful in its education, but survivable in its example.  

After several long moments, Jahenna was next in line. 

She watched as the recruit in front of her, a kid from Kasper by the name of Meillo, stepped into the airlock with a look absolutely riddled with barely contained panic. A tear rolled down his face as he initiated the cycling sequence, the door closing him into the airlock like a metallic tomb. 

The tempest resumed.

Don’t worry about him, she thought to herself, suddenly thinking of the thermodynamics of tears in the vacuum of space. He’ll be fine. It’s going to suck, but he’ll be fine. You’ll see him on the other side. It’s alright.

The door cycled open again…and Meillo remained inside. 

“I couldn’t do it,” she heard him mutter to the corporal that approached him. “I just couldn’t do it…” 

“It’s all right, son,” the corporal said, leading Meillo over to Sergeant Takes in the back of the room, near the main entryway door. 

She followed him longingly, as did almost every other recruit who could see him. 

They’d either give him another chance, or they’d wash him out. 

Not everyone could be an Espatier.

Poor kid, she thought to herself. 

“Malnix,” another corporal said to her, stepping up to replace the one that had escorted Meillo away, “do you still wish to proceed? Or are you having a change of thought like Meillo?” 

“Sir, no, sir; I plan to proceed, sir!” she said, her voice firm but exhausted. 

She picked her booted feet up, and stepped to the open airlock. 

It smelled like smoke and gunpowder inside, thick and pungent. 

She palmed the cycle button without a second thought, and did not look back as the door cycled close behind her.

Only one way out now, she thought to herself. Ohh…this is going to suck!

Inside the airlock, the tempest was much louder; the pumps worked quickly to remove the atmosphere around her, and before long her ears started to ache painfully. She winced as she felt them burst, then began rubbing at her her nose and eyes as the pressure continued to fall, all the while breathing out everything she could from her lungs in the process.

Railing, she thought. Remember the railing.

She reoriented herself to crouch against the railing, standing parallel to the deck so that “up” was the direction of the outer door. Kicking the magnet switches on the back of her boots to the OFF position, she started counting down as yellow caution lights began activating “above” her.

Nine…

…Eight…

At Seven, the door on the other side of the airlock snapped fully opened, and her eyeballs began to swell and boil in their sockets as the vacuum of space opened before her. 

Jahenna released her grip on the railing and kicked off, checking her orientation between painful eye blinks. 

…Six…

She floated out the now wide-open door, and squeezed her eyes shut as the cold of space robbed her of every ounce of warmth in her bones. 

…Five…

…Four…

She peeked again with her eyes, checking that her ballistics were on point and lined up with the other airlock door. 

Everything was good. 

…slow, but good. 

She jabbed the self guiding syringe into her right thigh through the thick, layering of her uniform, and a burning sensation flooded her senses.

For a brief moment, she felt alive again.

…Six…

…Four…

Wait…was that right?

No…that wasn’t right!

She began to panic as she realized she’d lost count. 

The opposing airlock door was still a few meters away. Jahenna reflexively kicked her feet, trying to swim in through the void to the open door just beyond her. 

And then everything started to slowly fade…

…and she felt so tired, all of the sudden. 

She realized she didn’t much care anymore that her face burned like it did. 

Her eyes swelled open, and all of it felt so very, very far away now.

Let it go, she heard herself think. Let it all go. 

Jahenna’s heaving lungs, desperate for air, stopped as The Cold finally overtook her. 

There was comfort there, in the pain. 

Wait…pain?

What pain?

Why did her arm hurt?

It didn’t hurt before. 

Something distant clanked hard against her head and she felt herself tumble against—

Air hissed loudly around her, hammering her limp body against a bulkhead with an invisible pressure wave in the weightlessness. She gasped for air as her chest pulled in air as fast as her lungs could process it, and realized she couldn’t see anything but red and white fog. Something grabbed her by her ankles and pulled her into a roll. She kicked at whatever it was that grabbed her, then panicked as something gripped her wrist.

Jahenna screamed as she was pulled away by whatever horrors had salvaged her from the abyss, and struggled meekly against her captors as they wrestled against her vain attempts to flee.

She blinked several times, trying to clear her foggy, clouded vision to fight; to make sense of the threat and to understand it. 

What were they? 

What had happened to her? 

…and then realized she could see after all; two humanoid figures in white were holding her kicking feet by the ankles, while to her sides another set of humanoid figures gripped her wrists as she struggled against them.

People.

These were people pulling her by the ankles.

People trying to help her.

…Wait—

Those weren’t just people, she realized; they were medics.

She stopped struggling as soon as she realized what that meant; what she’d accomplished.

She’d done it!

Finally, after months of abuse, drills, bad food, endless safety courses, firing ranges…she’d done it.

It was practically all downhill from here, she knew; she’d have a quick stint in medical to make sure she wasn’t bleeding internally from the decompression…but after that? 

Discharge, for rest and recovery.

Jahenna sobbed with relief as she was slapped and velcroed against a bulkhead by the very people that had dragged her away, and she thought she could make out a smile on one of their faces as they left her there, undoubtedly to go retrieve the next recruit to brave the ‘Dash. 

Another humanoid figure glided through the air towards her, and pressed a pair of hands against her ears. Something wiggled against the outside of both her ears, then she felt something squirm into them. Jahenna twitched uncomfortably as artificial ear worms burrowed into her ear canal to her ruptured ear drum, where they quickly repaired it. She felt a loud pop inside her head, and she could suddenly hear a cacophony of nearby screams all around her.

The figure that had pressed its hands against her head leaned in closer to her face. “Recruit,” the figure said to her, “can you hear me?” 

“S-sir!” She bleated out meekly, “Sir, y-yes, sir!”

The humanoid shape of the corpsman moved itself to the left, and then a thin, skinny segment broke off and moved closer to her face.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” The figure asked her. 

“S-sir! I…I—” 

Jahenna stammered, blinking her eyes rapidly as she tried to focus on what was, to her, a thin fleshy-blob in front of her face.

Unexpected, blinding light poured into her eyes, causing her to wince and recoil as fingers began probing aggressively around her face and eyebrows, examining the left side of her face, then her right. 

“Get her something for her eyes,” a different voice said, and she felt the air move as someone nearby moved away.

“Here,” the first voice said, “this is going to help your vision. Keep your eyes closed. You’re alright, Spacy; Good work.”

She giggled absently to herself.

Spacy.

Her! 

An Espatier! 

The figure moved close to her face as she closed her eyes, and something soothing and cool was wiped over her eyelids. It had the texture of soft, silky sand, but smelled faintly like rancid carrots. 

With her eyes now closed, she started to say “thanks,” but thought better of it, as she felt the air move in front of her. 

Whoever it was that had helped her and already moved on to the next person. 

No matter. 

She’d be alright.  

Jahenna allowed herself an absent moment to relax, and somehow managed to fall asleep amidst the bedlam and chaos around her—a trait not uncommon in the Espatier Corps.

As she slept, she dreamed of the stars.

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Welcome

S.C. Davenport Leave a comment

Hello world! Welcome to my website! From here you’ll get access to my latest fiction projects, as well as where to find older ones. We’re going to start this show off with something I’ve hinted at for a few weeks now on Threads: a serial novel called Chewing Vacuum: a military sci-fi story set in a large universe that I have great plans for later on.

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