Friederika and I are on our way to the main bridge—when I decide to step off the slow-moving conveyor. Just off to my side is the glass window between us and the twinkling blanket of stars. Not only are there stars, but also the rest of commodore Hugo’s fleet. It’s a beautiful moment I can’t possibly give up. “Say, Kiki,” I utter to the green-haired Sub-Lieutenant.
“Hmm? What is it?” Friederika has gotten a little further ahead and has to look behind with a surprised look, “is something the matter?” She steps off the moving walkway as well.
“No…” I shake my head, “mothing like that. Doesn’t this scene remind you of something?”
“What do you mean, ‘this scene’?” Friederika asks as she approaches me. I point to the window panel.
“All the Federation ships assembling,” I answer. Our sister battlecruiser the Hualian is next to ours, just a little distance off. It’s close enough that I could probably jump out with a suit, fly to it and touchdown, then fly back and still have enough fuel in the suit to do some fancy maneuvers. If you squint carefully, with good enough eyesight you can see movements in the yellow dotted lines across her port—people moving to and from their destinations. Behind that ship, there are what feels like endless rows of gray blimps… and further even, columns of dots behind us.
I feel so excited that I forget to breathe. Before Friederika can say anything, I inhale the beauty as deep as I can and let out a big long exhale that startles Friederika when I stretch out my arms. “Isn’t it wonderful?!” I begin cheerfully “I feel like I could watch this again and again and it will make me feel hyped up every time! Ever since that day back home, when we saw the ships launch into orbit, I’ve been obsessed with the navy,” out of excitement I hug myself as tight as I can. When I glance over at Friederika’s reaction, she can only let out a sigh and facepalm.
“I feel like the longer I’m with you, Vicky,” Friederika laments “the less chance I have of getting a date.”
“Let’s be real Kiki. Even if you did, by some bizarre miracle, get a date, I’m sure they would immediately dump you when they see the real rotten you.” Friederika is so outraged that for a split second it almost seems like she was going to pop a vein.
“I don’t know if I should be more upset that you’re stealing my line or spouting serious bullshit right now.”
“Come at me, sister!” I say, tauntingly. But before we can tear lunge at each other, there is another gong tune followed by the repeated announcement for general quarters. We get side glances from seamen as they pass by on the moving conveyor. One of them leans into his friend to murmur something. But it’s quiet enough that I can’t make out what they say.
After they are out of earshot, Friederika is the first to break the silence, “you know. It is kinda pretty when you think about it. All the ships assembling, I mean.” I can’t help but break into a smile.
“I’m glad you came to your senses,” I remark. We take in the moment before stepping back onto the moving walkway leading to the command bridge.
“…Oh, before I forget. How are things between you and Paul?” Friederika says, glancing at me “do you even talk to him much?” Paul? I twirl some strands of hair in ponder. Paul… Paul… I feel like I should know who she is talking about. The name sounds familiar, I’ll give it that much. The fact that I have to think this hard about it makes me think that it must be repressed memories. Friederika stares daggers at me. I feel like she is way too curious about this Paul guy and me. I suppose it doesn’t hurt to ask for a refresher on who Paul is.
“Forgive me for asking, but who?” Friederika gives me a look like I’m an alien from another part of the galaxy.
“Are you serious?” She gawks “how could you forget about Paul? It’s only been like, a year at most since we saw him at Canberra academy. Weren’t you guys like, super close back at the academy?”
“I don’t know what you mean? I wasn’t even close to anyone but you—” Ah, wait a minute. Paul. Paul… Pluto? Plato? Putty? No, I honestly can’t remember his last name. “What was his last name? I think that might help me recall who Paul is.”
“Paul Plotte?” Friederika retorts almost immediately. Like a strike of lightning, it feels like I have a eureka moment. Plotte… wait a minute.
I feel the memories coming back to me now. A scrawny guy with thick rim glasses that he annoyingly adjusts after every little action. Big, poofy hair so out of style that I sometimes wonder if he was just woken up from deep cryosleep. But it couldn’t be the same Plotte that I encountered earlier. That Plotte in particular has better fitness. I bet if he slipped off his shirt he’d be ripped. It couldn’t possibly be the same guy unless Paul went ham at our recreation center. But just to make sure, it never helps to ask.
“Are you talking about the lieutenant guy from earlier?” I ask, twirling one of my locks of hair, “the one who gave us the documents and landed us in trouble? The buff-looking one? There’s no way that can be him…”
Friederika waves her hand. “No, no. This is a different Plotte. Though I think they are related. The Plotte on our ship is his older brother. I think?”
“What do you mean, ‘the Pluto on our ship’? Is there like a Pluto on each ship or something?”
“Seriously… are you incapable of pronouncing Plotte or something?” Friederika asks, folding her arms.
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m just pronouncing it like normal.”
“No, but anyway… I take it you haven’t talked to him at all?” I drum my thoughts to think of an appropriate answer. But if I’m being totally honest I kind of forgot about Paul.
“…I’ve been so absorbed in our training that I never have the time to keep in touch. So I think the last time we talked was…”
“—Before we departed from the academy?” Friederika finishes for me. Before we left the academy, huh? Thinking harder about it, I remember our graduation saw our class deployed to different posts. Thankfully, Friederika and I were given the same assignment. But as for Paul…
“Paul was in our class, right?” I ask for clarification.
“Uh, no,” Friederika interjects, “he was actually in the class before us. He was assigned to that ship over there,” Friederika points back at the Hualian, “I remember Paul seemed upset when he found out we would not all be in the same ship.”
I can’t help but break into a grin and give Friederika a nudge. “You two seem close if you know this much,” I say wryly. Friederika breaks off eye contact. I can see the tips of her ears turn a bright shade of red.
“N-no. I don’t think we were that compatible. Besides, he is more interested in you. Whenever we did hang out together, you were all he ever talked about. It was irritating!” Oh yeah. Come to think of it, I remember Friederika would sometimes hang out with other classmates in our recess periods. So it was with Paul after all?
“If you didn’t like hanging out with Paul so much, why didn’t you just…” I shrug my shoulders before continuing, “I don’t know, not hang out with him?” Friederika only lets out a scoff. She mumbles something under her breath low enough for me not to make it out. “Well, that aside… why would you bring up Paul all of a sudden?” I ask.
“Well… You did get all sentimental in my room earlier. So I figured…” Friederika trails off. So that is what this is all about. She’s worried I won’t survive the operation or something, huh? I give Friederika another playful nudge.
“Oh ho? Does the thought of Paul being in distraught over you or me—”
Friederika looks me straight in the eyes again. There’s no sign of her breaking into a toothy grin like she usually does. “I wish you would take this a bit more seriously. We might not be able to do it now. But after we come back… I want you to contact Paul…” her eyebrows quiver as she tries to finish the sentence “—if he even lives through this, as well.”
“Kiki…” Before I say any more, the conveyor comes to a sudden end. The two of us briefly shift our attention to carefully step onto the static floor. The auto door ahead of us slides open, and we proceed through it.
It would be an understatement to say the bridge room is huge. Rows of computer screens line most of the area. Lots of technicians scurrying around on the raised platforms like an army of rats. The walls consist of slanted windows exposing most of outer space and the occasional Federation ships cruising forward all around us.
Friederika leans in to whisper to me “Seems we made it just in time.”
Standing in the middle of the room was our CO of the ship, Buttermilch. After examining a tablet presented to him, he clears his throat. Everyone, including me and Friederika, freezes in unison at attention.
“I have just received word from commodore Hugo that the fleet is preparing to warp to the Valspon system. Our section will warp after the others. In the meantime please review all systems and standby for further orders,” Buttermilch states dutifully. With a thunderous aye-aye from the crowd, the crew resumed its hustling.
“So, what exactly are we supposed to do, then?” I ask Friederika.
“Look busy and hope Buttermilch doesn’t chew you out anymore, I suppose?” She suggests with a shrug.
It seems Friederika jinxed it somehow. The lieutenant with a large build from before stands before us with tablets in either hand. “Ensign Happ. Sub-lieutenant Trachenberg. Please, take these,” Plotte orders dryly. We both take them without saying a word. But Friederika glances at me expecting me to say something.
As Plotte moves away, I reach out for him without thinking. “Ah…! Lieutenant Pluto!”
Plotte stops and turns around with an irritated brow. “Ensign? Is something the matter?”
“Ah… no, I was just curious… y-you have a brother named P-Paul on the Hueylint, right?”
He fully turns to face me with a confused look. “The Hueylint? You mean the Hualian?” I instinctively give a nod, while silently cursing myself for flubbing the ship’s name.
“Well… yes. Paul Plotte, an ensign assigned to one of the missile loading teams, I believe. We keep in regular touch whenever we can,” he gives me a warm smile, “he talks about you a lot,” his gaze shifts to Friederika, “and the Trachenberg miss as well,” Friederika is pretending to be busy. While the two of us are talking, Friederika is off to the side and seems to be messing around on the tablet. I know Friederika too well to know she is minding her own bloody business. She clearly is listening in, since the mention makes her jump a bit in place.
“Ha ha ha… is that so?” Friederika laughs it off anxiously.
“Please, when this is all over… continue to look over him, if you can,” and with that Plotte turns to leave us alone.
“…What a supportive brother,” I say offhandedly. Friederika only attempts to nod in agreement. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Mazzareli entering the bridge. He scans the room and heads in the direction of Buttermilch, where the two of them converse for a few minutes. Buttermilch orders the bridge crew to fall into formation, where Friederika and I find our place along the lining of the windows.
Outside, ships like the Hualian accelerate ahead of us and fall into a box formation with other ships.
“Right turn!” Buttermilch orders. I slam my heel in unison with the deafening of a hundred boots doing the very same. In near perfect rhythm, our troops all proceed to face the windows—towards the Federation fleet advancing. Buttermilch orders arms raised and a salute. I obediently do as I was told: I raise my right hand sharply, fingers extended and joined, palm facing down, and place the tip of my thumb right on the rim of my cap.
The Hualian passes us at moderate speed, and I can make out the ants-sized people giving us return salutes. Buttermilch orders us into an attention stance, and I change back into an assertive posture with arms at the side.
I turn my gaze to my side, toward the ships ahead. Violent cackling of lightning strikes gives form into whirlpools of distorted space in front of some of the ships — vortexes that twist and wring the fabrics of space itself at unimaginable speeds. The warp portals open wider, bigger, and the lightning strikes seem to get out of control. The very sight of them sends continuous chills down my spine. I’ve never actually seen the entrance of a warp hole myself—our fleet has spent its whole journey mostly cruising with the use of regular engines.
But still, it is terrifying. To think that just a shy over two hundred years ago humans were struggling to get these warp jumps usable for interstellar flight — I’m suddenly reminded of the documentary Friederika and I watched back home a few years ago. The imagery of crushed ships and ill-fated tests flash across my mind.
“Worried?” Friederika whispers, smiling. It’s just quiet enough for me to hear. The last of the vanguard disappear into their warp holes. Slowly but surely the numerous vortexes dissipate into regular space. Buttermilch relieves the company of the attentive stance and orders us to prepare for the warp jump. After the order is given, everyone breaks ranks, and the crowd hustles around the bridge.
Ah—but wait, how do you prepare for a warp jump? As I ask myself in puzzlement, I notice the familiar electrical coils of lightning lashes out as a violent whirlpool takes form once more—this time directly in front of our ship.
Trembling I look around again in a panic and I feel a cold hand brush against mine. I turn to see who it is and find Friederika with her toothy grin. “You look like a lost child in a supermarket, you know?
“You never actually been through a warp jump, have you, Vicky?”
I shake my head. “No, can’t say I have. This is probably my first time, and you?”
Friederika’s goofy grin reaches from ear to ear, “to tell you the truth, this is my first time as well. But fret not! Friederika the breathtaking beauty will comfort you as we make our way through the scary torrent of whatever the hell that is!” She expresses it in such a triumphant manner that I can only admire her for it. Onlookers stop what they are doing and give us strange looks. “But if I’m telling the truth, I think you just grab onto something sturdy or whatever. I’m sure it doesn’t matter too much though. The boots they issued us…” she taps one boot against the floor “have some gravity doohickey in them right?”
Friederika is talking about how the boots can keep you on the floor if the vacuum of space tries to pull you out. It sounds kinda convenient, since, you know, being sucked into outer space is not exactly something any sane person would not want to experience. “I mean… sure… but… how exactly does that help with the warp jump?” I ask, innocently.
“Well… you know, in case the windows shatter or… something,” Friederika says with a tone that’s not particularly convincing.
“Well, I don’t think so, I think they close them during the jumps. See?” I point at some of the windows in front of us.
“Huh?” Friederika utters, as industrial shutters slowly roll down to cover the windows with a quiet hum, and the process is sealed with a soft hiss. For a moment we find ourselves in darkness before the flicker of lights restores vision in the bridge.
The ship suddenly gives a slight shake that nearly throws me off balance. Friederika and I reach out for the railing in front of us.
“All hands…”
I grip the metal railing as hard as I can, and my body trembles. Friederika extends a hand that she rests on mine — and gives it a gentle squeeze. There is another shake — this time a bit rougher. And it only tends to get more rocky.
I feel a weird sensation in my feet as the sole of the boots clamps onto the floor. “See? There’s nothing to worry about,” Friederika says with reassurance. Friederika’s hand is still resting on the back of mine when she intertwines the two, and I can’t help but feel my ears fuming red. The ship is rocking progressively harder, but with the gravity boots activated it’s not as noticeable.
“Everything is going to be ok, Vicky. We’ll get through this together.” Friederika whispers into my ear.
“Brace for warp jumps!”
Buttermilch’s voice bellows throughout the bridge. It is the last thing I hear before the concept of space and time as I know it becomes no more. My vision becomes increasingly blurred, and I can no longer make out distinguishable colors of anything. The world around me is frozen in place—Mazzareli—Buttermilch—the buff Plotte—Friederika—all utterly static. It feels like those moments of sleep paralysis where you want to scream or move around—but can’t. My grip on the railing feels weightless but it was still clear I am clinging tight onto it. I turn to face Friederika one last time—just to see that reassuring smile one more time.
Before long my vision becomes completely clouded and I can no longer make out anything at all.
