And so, the rest of 218 went by in the blink of an eye. From what I saw over summer break, there were a series of startling developments unfolding in Sydney. Unbeknownst to the public at the time, there were a lot of deliberations in Capitol Hill on materializing a grand campaign to ‘rid the Orion Arm of pirate havens once and for all’. I tuned in to news snippets of Ramsay DeRyck being promoted to rear admiral and pushing for the senate to approve of this major campaign. “Once more the Orion Arm will be free of piracy—once more the people of the Federation will rejoice in a new golden age for humanity!” Sappy stuff like that was exclaimed by wrinkly old men.
In the mail, we received a notice that the class of 219 would be accelerated to graduate in June, rather than the expected December date. This deeply worried my parents, and similarly sent chills down my spine. This could only potentially mean one thing: I was going to get drafted into being part of the military campaign. My father was more deathly stricken by the possibility even more than my mum was, he had gotten so worked up for it that he remained bedridden even after I left home for Canberra Institution once summer vacation was over.
When we returned, our fears were more or less confirmed: as per the directive set forth by the Admiralty, all military academies with graduations for the current year will be expected to contribute all bodies to positions they see fit. There was also a draft aimed at civilian college graduates and the general public, or so I heard from rumors, although generally not in commissioned officer capacities.
With this in mind, they crammed down as much of a curriculum as we could. Most holidays we were expected to have for the year were canceled to make more room in our schedules. Even describing it as acceleration would be a complete understatement to the crash-courses we experienced. It was all so hectic I never got the chance to see Alexandra at all, let alone even Paul or Friederika half the time.
Our anticipated graduation ceremony was still a little way off, but when I checked my mailbox located outside our dormitory I was pleasantly surprised to see we received mail about our future posting. Quickly scurrying to my room I rip open the contents to find a few slips of paper informing us of the ship we were to report to and a list of superior officers we were expected to remember as well.
| CC014 MSN YILAN |
| COMMANDER KENNETH BUTTERMILCH |
| LIEUTENANT-COMMANDER VIKTOR MAZZARELI |
I can at least sleep a little better at night knowing there are people with even weirder names than Schwarzenberger. I could not even imagine growing up and being the butt end of jokes regarding buttermilk or mozzarella sticks… well, I kind of don’t need to with a name that my schoolmates called me Shorts-burger.
There were also two small patches we were given; one for the Metropolitan Space Navy insignia, and another for the ship we were posted to. The Yilan’s coat of arms looked like a swan and for some reason reminds me of Alexandra. I wonder what ships she and Friederika were posted to, anyway? I didn’t have to wait long to find out for Friederika, though.
There are several knocks at my door, and before I even get the chance to tell them to come in before it was busted open by none other than my eccentric green-haired friend Friederika. “Vick!, Vick! Did you get your posted notice yet?!” She beams at me happily and plops herself on my desk that I’m sitting at with such force that I’m shocked it didn’t just break under her fat bum.
She snatches up my papers and gives them a quick skim, she hands them back to me with an even bigger toothy grin. “We’re on the same ship, huh—fancy that!” But then she frowns again, “wait… why are you a rank of ensign and I get sub-lieutenant?” I look over mine again and sure enough, it says I am posted with a rank of ENSIGN.
I can only offer a sigh and toss the paper on the table, “we must live in a crazy world if you get commissioned with a rank above me. If there was ever a deity out there, I’d say this is the work of a cruel one that wants to see me suffer.”
“Heh—heh—heh…” Friederika’s grin is so menacing that it scares me a little.
“What’s so funny?” The words slip out before I know it; I feel I have created a tactical blunder.
“This means I’m your direct superior!” She says rubbing her hands together.
“Well—I don’t know about that. You can be supreme commander of the whole fleet and I’d probably still ignore you.”
“Way to ruin the moment…” Friederika says rolling her eyes, “it does seem kind of arbitrary though.”
“Ah well… what can you do about it? That aside—I think the graduation ceremony should be starting soon. We should probably head down to the stadium and get ready before they start screaming down our necks to hurry up. Friederika nods in acknowledgment and we both leave to head down the flight of stairs. It’s not long before we are stopped by a man carrying a camera with a comically sized lens. His assistant carries with him a collapsible bipedal stand for it, and the man carrying it is—
“P-Paul?” Friederika and I stammer in unison. He looks beleaguered from probably humping the thing all morning, but doesn’t say a word—only an exhausted grin and a nod as acknowledgment.
“Hey there, sweet cakes! I’m going around and taking commemorative photos of all the Canberra graduates!” He exclaims, “could you two stand there, look pretty and smile for the camera?”
“U-uhm… sure?” I respond bemused, and Friederika and I do as they say. The duo quickly gets to work as Paul sets down the bipod and assists the colleague with setting it in place. Then… nothing.
“Um… are you done yet?” Friederika asks while striking a pose, “maintaining this pose is kinda—”
“Oh! Yes! Yes! Just like that! Yes!” The photographer exclaims ignoring the question, “alright Cadet Plotte, help me remove the camera.” The two of them take the camera off, and Paul gruelingly trails his master as he zips past us, “thank you, ladies! Have a wonderful ceremony!~” He left us hanging, just like that.
“I’ll be honest, this place has it’s fair share of weirdos. I won’t be missing it.” Friederika says dryly after he left.
“But Friederika, you’re one of the weirdos too,” I reply, and she rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh.
The ceremony is conducted with such sincerity that it feels different from the previous years, and I don’t even need to do a quick head-count to know that there area lot of visitors this time around.
Everyone hushes as Rear Admiral DeRyck takes center stage at the podium, “G’day ladies and gentlemen… thank you for coming down to visit this grand Institution once more. I had hoped to see you all in December under better weather conditions—under better circumstances… but sadly, fate is a whimsical thing, and the Defense Ministry has mandated that all military colleagues and academies speed up their graduations for the current year. Many complained, and those complaints did not fall upon deaf ears… however, the cadet officer draft was seen as a necessity to supplement our meager volunteer force.
“But let us be not sentimental or discontent of the decisions put forward by Capitol Hill—these very cadets are soon to be officers, and will be part of a historical force to restore Federation authority to systems befell by pirate warlords that continue to haunt our colonial brothers. Others will serve in more auxiliary roles in the Metropolitan Navy, to maintain the peace and security envisioned by Galland Horatio all these years ago. Our very children are fighting for a better future for their children, and future generations to come. We should all be proud of our cadets, and hold our chins high knowing we have taught them, helped them grow, and matured them into fine officers and characters…”
DeRyck concludes his closing statements and lets other graduating cadets, as well as past Canberra alumni and teachers, share their thoughts. Then, a military band parades for us signifies the end of the ceremony.
“Your parents didn’t come, Vicky?” Friederika asks as everyone around us gets up to leave. We’re waiting for things to slow down so we don’t get trampled by the mosh pit heading outside.
“No, mum had to stay home to care for dad. He hasn’t been feeling too well.”
“That’s unfortunate… you think he’ll be fit enough to see us depart?”
I shake my head, remembering that ridiculous shock wave the two of us experienced years ago, “I don’t think they allow guests, do they?” Friederika is confused for a second but then nods, “at the very least not so close to the naval dockyard.”
“Er… yeah you’re right, I’m suddenly remembering the time you almost drowned over the bridge railing.”
“You mean when you smacked me and caused me to fall over?”
“I-I meant to grab on!” She protests, “well… anyway, I think my mom is waiting outside for me, so we drive you home if you want.”
“Yeah, sounds like a plan. I’ll join up with you later, I want to go see if I can find Alexandra first.” The two of us go our separate ways for the time being.
I search everywhere for Alexandra but come short of the seagull redhead, and I wound up unable to locate Vinnie either. Feeling a little sad, I head back to the parking lot and leave with the Trachenberg family for home.
| AUGUST 219 |
| SYDNEY MILITARY SPACEPORT |
There is a sea of civilians looking eagerly on at the fleet of Metropolitan transport ships numbering in the hundreds, all lined up across the vast concrete plains of the spaceport. Despite what I thought a few months ago, most of the Federation armada is already in orbit; so civilians were allowed closer to the launchpads without fear of being blasted to oblivion by the propulsion rockets or aftershocks. Many military parades were held throughout the morning, and blaring music by the spaceport band was played.
After the parades were completed, we were called back into formation by Rear Admiral DeRyck, Commodore Chal Hugo, and Commodore Cicero Garofano.
We were told that the ships under Commodore Chal Hugo would be formed as a peacekeeping mission to the Frankish Domain and that the rest of the armada under DeRyck and Garofano would commence the anti-pirate campaign through the Ruthenia region and beyond. After DeRyck finished his speech, we were allowed a moment of downtime. Some of us went to say our goodbyes to our loved ones watching from a distance.
“Victoria…” My mother says gripping the divider between us, “it’s a shame your father can’t be seeing you off…”
“It hurts a bit… but if it’s for his health he should stay in bed,” I say scrounging up what reassurance I could offer, “just the fact that you managed to come by is more enough to give me strength,” I say trying not to get too emotional. All around us were people sobbing and embracing each other.
“W…will you be alright by yourself, Victoria?” Mom was already starting to tear up, “should I rush back home and give you Vivi?”
“Mom…”
“You better keep your space nice and tidy, you hear?”
“Mum…”
“You better eat a healthy diet and get a bloody good exercise!” She says unable to stifle her tears.
“Mo…” This time I lose the no-crying contest, we give each other a warm embrace and cry into each other’s shoulders. But like all good things, it has to come to an end. The sound of a whistle blows, signaling for us to return to formation. “I’ll… I’ll be… I’ll be back in one piece, mum! Wait for me! I’ll get you lots of souvenirs!” I wipe away my tears as I wave to her as I run back towards the formations…
But then I stop dead in my tracks.
A few meters from me is Alexander Descartes Dolz. The redheaded freckled Ruthenian that laughs like a seagull. She looks surprised to see me, and my gaze falls to her ship patch
| TRINIDAD |
I felt my very heart sink and break in two. She must have done the same and looked equally distressed at the revelation. To think we would not be on the same ship… or the same fleet for that matter, as the Trinidad is the flagship of Rear Admiral DeRyck, and the Yilan is under the Hugo fleet.
Why is God so cruel? Why must he make me suffer like this? After all we went through… we don’t even get to be posted in the same fleet.
“Vick—” she utters, already trying to suppress tears from forming. Without even thinking, I walk—then rush— toward Alexandra and promptly throw myself into her arms. I bury my head into her chest and open the floodgates, “—toria!” She stammers, unable to contain her tears any longer, and we embrace each other even tighter than mom and I did. It’s suffocating for sure, the pain of not being with Alexandra hurts even more.
I raise my head and rest it against Alexandra’s forehead. “Alex…”
“—Don’t say anything.” She says trying not to choke her words, “don’t—” I kiss her wet cheek, and likewise she does the same.
“…Be safe, Alex. Just… promise me you won’t die.”
“…HA↓HA↓…” she struggles to laugh in between her chokes of sobs, “…I could very well ask you the same… if you die I’ll never forgive you in the afterlife.”
We spend the next few moments in silence before another round of the whistle makes us recollect ourselves.
“I’ve never been one to say good-byes…” I say after clearing my throat, I rub her cheeks with my thumbs to wipe away her tears.
“It’s not a good-bye if we’ll see each other again. We definitely will.” She reaches in for another kiss on the cheek, then we take a few steps back from each other “I’ll see you later… Victoria.”
And with a salute to each other, we about-face and head to our respective formations.
“You and Alexandra are awfully touchy-feely,” Friederika says rather bitterly. We’re strapped into our seats, ready for the shuttle to take off. Looking out the window some of the other shuttles have already done their take-offs and are proceeding for space.
“Are you jealous?”
Friederika only gives me a hmph! and shuts me down at further attempts at conversion. Ah well. She’ll get over it eventually.
After a while, it’s our shuttle’s turn to take off, and we are ordered to seal the windows tight until further orders. There’s the usual hum of engines and the odd feeling of breakfast churning in my stomach but at least I’m more accustomed to it now. But I clutch the nearby SPEIBSACKERL bag just in case, anyway—my other choices are puking on the window, the seat in front of me, or Friederika. I’d rather let the puke moniker die quietly, so SPEIBSACKERL it is.
Our commanding officer permits us to unseal the windows, and a legion of people crowd around the window to get a sight of the assembled armada—hundreds— thousands as far as the naked eye can see. To think that Alexandra is in one of many makes me feel a little more assured about her safety. DeRyck is a model admiral, and Alexandra is a strong girl. There’s no way the Federation can be defeated that easily.
“See you later, Terra—see you later, Alexandra.”
