Chapter 7

TRESS II

It was raining outside. The clouds had gathered suddenly, but a few rays of sunlight still shone through onto Desca. The light tapping of raindrops against the window stirred Tress back to reality. He was in Eb's apartment, one of the new planet-produced modular living quarters, sitting at the kitchen table. On it were two big duffel bags, packed to the brim with clothes, supplies, and personal knick-knacks, all courtesy of Eb. Tress was dressed in his uniform, orange and lined black along the edges, the colours of the EDF Ground Forces. In his hands he held a datapad he'd received a few days ago. The lights and scribbles on the screen soon focused, reading:

RESERVE DRAFT ANNOUNCEMENT, 15/04/03AE

The rest was just details and formalities. He needed only the first three words to understand. I'm going on active duty. Tress let out an exasperated sigh, somewhere between a laugh and a sniffle. The reserves weren't the greatest thing, he spent most his time training and polishing plates, occasionally he got to flex his knowledge and test out some of the aircraft, but it was safe. No live ammo, no constant threat of attack, hell, not even that many emergency drills. But the atmospheric sector? A war zone? That was different.

Back when the war started, some eight months ago, Tress had been upset that he'd been left in the reserves. He was an academy graduate, after all, and ranked at Ensign, too. But as the reports started pouring in and rumours started spreading, his dissatisfaction started to fade. He really was happy with his lot in life. A boring but comfortable life in the reserves, a stable home life, and a partner so loving he still had trouble believing it was true.

As if summoned by the thought, Eb walked in from her room, dressed in airy trousers and a slick black turtleneck, a studious pair of glasses sitting atop her nose. She had baggage, too, but it was a backpack for her university datapads. She sat down across from Tress and eyed him nervously.

"So... Today's the day, eh?" Eb asked. Tress slowly lifted his eyes up at her, shame and regret cooking in his stomach. "Y-Yeah... Guess they couldn't win without me." The two shared a nervous chuckle, then returned to uncomfortable silence. They'd had days to come to terms with it, but it just hadn't been enough. Sure, Tress was away before, a few days or weeks or months at the base, but he'd always had free time to visit her, and a stable connection to call. Now he was going away much further and for far longer. The relay stations were infamously finicky, assuring only that top level information traversed safely, while giving personal messages and the like very low priority. It could be a long time before they could talk again.

Tress wanted to say something, to spill his heart out, but both of them had done so already. Multiple times. There really was nothing more to say. Except... No! No, none of that! He took a deep breath. "You ready?" Eb looked around a bit, probably going through a mental checklist for her classes today, then shrugged. "I guess, yeah. Let's go."

They shared a good bit of path. The walk to the station, then a few stations, then the switch to another train and then some. Most of it they spent with idle chatter and awkward silence. Eventually, they had to part ways, though, and it just so happened to be at the spaceport station. Eb had to catch another train and Tress needed to go on on foot. They were standing at the fork of their paths, under the huge display, surrounded by hundreds of other people on their daily commute. The beige walls provided a nice contrast to the muted grey of the clouds above, but they could only see each other at that moment.

Seconds turned to minutes, and the silence continued. After all the professions of love and wishes of safety, there really was only one thing left to talk about. No. I won't even consider it. Never. Tress was adamant in pushing the thought out of his head entirely, but it had continued plaguing him for the past few days. Even considering it brought about only bad feelings, far too horrible to be let loose.

Suddenly, Eb turned to him with a serious look. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, nonononononono-

"Don't... Don't die." NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! It was as if a bomb had triggered in his stomach. The thought of death, actual, possible death inspired such dread and fear in Tress that he almost started shaking. What was far worse than that, though, a thousand million times so much more painful, was the guilt. The guilt he felt for leaving Eb. The guilt he felt for wanting to get out of the EDF. The guilt he felt for possibly dying and leaving her permanently. Oh... No... Everything was starting to spin again. His eyes were losing focus, and he was about to fall.

Then Tress felt a strong grip on his hand. He knew who it was. Eb's voice pierced through the confusion, crystal clear.

"Tress. Tress! Promise me you won't die. Promise! Please..." The negative mass inside him started cooking. All the fear and dread and guilt slowly gave way to a flaming courage built by her words. His focus came back. Strength started flowing through his body again. Tress regained his balance and looked Eb in the eyes.

Yet, even with all that, he could not bring himself to promise something he had no sure way of fulfilling. Tears swelled in his eyes.

"Tress..."

Memories flashed in front of him, a thousand moments of love between them.

"Tress..."

Eb strengthened her grip. He could feel her heartbeat.

"Tress...!"

Tress launched into a passionate embrace just as the tears reached their breaking point, sobbing like a baby.

"I promise! I promise! I promise! I won't allow myself! Not now, not ever! Not... Not without you." The barriers of public decency shattered and the two almost made love to each other then and there. After a long embrace, they finally separated, and gave each other their goodbyes. Lightheadedly, Tress made his way into the spaceport, looking for his assignment.

Desca wasn't that big of a city, but one would be forgiven for thinking so when looking at the spaceport. Next to the colossal hangar and docking equipment, a man felt more akin to an ant stumbling around someone's workshop. And stumbling was a good word. Tress asked around, but had a hard time finding his assignment, the Lopss, a ship that should have been stationed here.

After many confused looks and a lot of misdirection, Tress found himself standing in front of an odd ship. It was a glorified collection of rectangles, made more for storage than for battle, with a few turrets attached and painted in the orange and black of the Ground Forces, rather than the black and white of the Space Forces. No time to repaint, huh?

He wasn't the only one here. There was a long line at the hangar, likely recruits being admitted. Tress walked to the back and tapped one of them on the back. The person was a Terran, likely male, with shortish brown hair, green eyes, beige skin and a build akin to a naked tree. "This the Lopss?" Tress asked. "Wha-uh... Yeah. The Lopss." Hmm... Might as well try and make some friends. "Oh, great. I've been looking for this thing for a while now, thought it may've left. Name's Tress, by the way." He offered a hand to the spindly kid in front of him, who hesitantly took it. "Remy. Nice to meet you, I guess." You guess?

Tress tried to make small talk with the recruit, but he just wouldn't budge. Probably just nervous. After almost an hour of waiting in line, Tress finally got to the admission stand. He declared his assignment and his belongings before the smooth blue Ocpid before him could speak up. "Alright... Well, I'm Commissions Officer Tzeelo Kreem, you'll probably have to deal with me for the next few months. Since you're one of the officers, I'm not gonna give you the whole EDF spiel." She handed him a datapad. "Your quarters have already been assigned, Ensign Alba, go there and unload your... stuff, then meet the Sergeant Okbat in the hangar." She looked him up and down for a moment. "Sharpen yourself up a little, too, you'll be standing on a podium."

Ignoring the lukewarm reception, Tress entered the ship and followed the guides laid out in checkpoints to his quarters. After arrival, he opened his personnel pad and used it to open the door. Beyond it was a room with a bed, a desk, a small cupboard and a window. Humble. Tress threw his bags on the bed and made his way outside, to the communal bathroom, where he 'sharpened himself up.' Then he turned back to the hangar, wondering what Sergeant Okbat looked like. Not even an hour on here and I'm already getting to know the paths.

Okbat, it turns out, was a Simian in a worn Space Forces uniform, a white cap, and, curiously enough, sunglasses. His hair was mostly black, though there were a few grey and white ones here and there. Tress found him talking to the other new officers, likely academy graduates like him. "Ensign Tress Alba, reporting for duty, sir!" Tress saluted, surprising the man. "Whoah there, nice to see that you're enthusiastic, but cool it a bit." He offered a hand. "Sergeant Oxiir Okbat, but you can call me Oxy, unlike the recruits." Tress shook his hand and was soon let in on the plan. He was to stand alongside the other officers behind the Sergeant as he gave his opening address to all the new recruits.

And he found himself doing just that after a few moments. The newbies had been ushered in in front of a makeshift podium, where he and the others stood. The hangar was very roomy, but Tress could tell that it was bigger still. They've probably stuffed all the equipment into the wall compartments. Nervous whispering echoed from the crowd of Earthly Terrans, their fellow Eartheners the Simians, evolved from a heavily genetically modified ape breed, the ex-aquatic Ocpids, who still bared good resemblance to their ancestors, the Sklirodermans, with their joint-bound ridges and huge black eyes and the Telripians, evolved from reptile-like beings and saved by the Eden Expedition from the death of their planet some two hundred years ago.

Okbat picked up a mic and spoke to the crowd. "Test, test. Is this thing working? I don't think it's- Ah, I'm kidding. Welcome to the Lopss, recruits! I'm Sergeant Okbat, the one who'll be whipping up you sorry lot into proper soldiers. Now, some of you might have different aspirations from others, and that's fine. It's good, in fact. But until you finish your training you won't get to specialize. All this to say that from now, until the day that I declare you trained, you will be in boot camp. Understood?" The crowd seemed to quickly warm up to the Sergeant and cheered out a 'Yes, Sir!'

"That's what I like to hear! With that mindset we'll have you looking like this chocolate Adonis right here in no time!" He slapped Tress on the chest. It took a lot of strength to not cough, but he powered through it. For the recruits. After a bit more explanation and a few more compliments to the officers, Okbat finally declared recess and motioned for everyone to move to the cafeteria.

To say that it was crowded would be an understatement. Up to twenty people were packed at a single table and there was barely any room for the food. The line at the kitchen was more of a suggestion, the staff behind the counter was running back and forth trying to keep up with everyone's orders. But that was no bother to Tress. He'd picked up some nondescript fruit juice and sat down with Sergeant Okbat. They were soon joined by some others. Tress recognized the kid he met at the hangar entrance, but the other Terran and two Simians were unknown to him.

"Okay, so this is Sergey," Okbat pointed to the grey-haired simian next to him. "this is Bekel," The other Simian was far younger, with brown-black hair. "and that's Tuzhan." The terran was of olive complexion, with a tough face and a black buzz cut. After everyone exchanged introductions the Sergeant opened a discussion. "So, excited to serve on the front lines?" Tress didn't answer. Remy did. "Yes, sir!" The others looked at him funny.

"Euh... I'm kidding, kid. With luck, none of us'll have to fight. Personally, I'm hoping to get promoted to Home Training. I've been off-planet for too long." Sergey raised a hand. "True that! I've spent almost my whole life in space, and as soon as I get to enjoy some ground life, we go and declare war."

Okbat protested. "Wh- Hey, hey. We didn't declare war. The Athorians forced us to fight." "Riiiiiight..." Sergey rolled his eyes. Bekel spoke up. "Let's not talk about that. How about we hope that by the time we get there the war'll be over, hm?" The sergeant twisted his lips. "Yeah... Yeah, that'd be good. Wishful thinking, but there's no real downside to ending this war."

"You say that now..." Everyone turned to Tuzhan. He had an odd, empty look on his face. "But when the end actually comes, do you think that you will feel the same?" Okbat sighed. "Yes, Tuzhan, yes I do- We all do, right?" He looked at everyone and they all nodded, except for the spindly kid. "What do you mean by that?"

Tuzhan turned to Remy. "What I mean is that we still have a long fight ahead of us. No matter your intentions, you'll probably end up fighting one way or another. Oh, and you'll do it for a long time. Again and again, despite your efforts, you'll find yourself in battle and eventually, you'll end up immersed in it. Fight after fight, operation after operation, struggle will become your standard. You'll get used to it. And then, when the end inevitably comes, the white reflection that'll stare back at you will be mind-shattering. You will suddenly be put on withdrawal, and it's effects will wreak havoc on your soul."

Silence ensued. The kid was confused. Okbat leaned back in his chair, then leaned back in, pointing a finger to the kid. "Listen, Remy, was it? Remy, don't pay attention to what he says. If you act smart, and don't go rushing into everything without thinking, you'll do just fine. None of that 'inevitable battle.'" Tuzhan intervened. "I seem to recall you telling me the same thing." The Sergeant grimaced and grabbed his glass. "Eugh. Thanks for ruining the mood, asshole." He walked away, leaving the table to silence.

There was history between all of these people, Tress could tell just by their talks. Words to chew on. So far, the assignment didn't seem too bad, but the spectre that Tuzhan carried with him was one threatening to haunt them all.