Chapter 1

The sound of the docking clamp reverberated through our shuttle with a dull metallic thud, we were now mated to the UNN jump freighter “Goosemother”, its massive superlight engines would soon catapult it, along with all of the short-range transports now nestled in recesses along its hull, to a faraway star system at several multiples of the speed of light. I checked my safety harness nervously, ensuring the buckle on my chest was tightly fastened. I was sweating, I had never been off-world before today, and I had never been on a superlight ship, I was what marines and the well-traveled of Earth’s upper class referred to as “muddy”, in reference to the terrestrial soil and dirt they liked to imagine was caked to our boots. The ride up in the shuttle had been gut-wrenching, basic training had prepared me for the G-forces of escape velocity, but not for the spinning globe falling away behind me and the nausea of freefall. I heard a warning siren begin to blare and our pilot called back from behind his seat.

“Jump prep! Two minutes!”

I fumbled for my bit and slipped the clear plastic guard into my mouth as I had been taught. Superlight travel could be a shock to the nervous system, and this bit would ensure I didn’t bite off my tongue in the panic and delirium that sometimes followed. They told me it got easier with every jump, that the human body adapted to the warping energies that could plow a 90,000 ton starship through space faster than a massless photon, but the first time was rough. Our staff sergeants had laughed together on the landing pad as we had strapped in, imagining our reactions when “our cherries got popped.”

I gripped the arms of my crash couch and my fists whitened as clamps emerged to secure them in place. Did I regret joining the United Nations Navy? No, there was a war to be fought, and I wanted to do my part. The day I had turned 19 I had dropped out of agricultural college, against my father’s wishes, and enlisted in the Navy, as had many of my friends. We had imagined forming a unit together, but before we could so much as protest we had been sent off around the world to different boot camps. I hadn’t seen any of my friends since, but I had successfully completed basic training, and today I was on my way to an orbital station on the frontier to finish my training and become a real marine.

The shuttle began to vibrate, the superlight drive was charging up, drawing in dark energy from the aether and using its immense power to create a wormhole to our destination. Only the largest ships in the UNN were equipped with these expensive, hard to maintain engines, and most support craft had to be anchored to their hull or within their onboard hangar to piggyback on the energy stream.

“Brace for jump! Ten seconds!” The pilot barked.

I glanced around the cramped shuttle, and two dozen pale faces illuminated by orange warning lighting stared back at me from beneath their helmets, all anchored to their seats and sporting a clear plastic bit. The vibration became a rumbling, then the rumbling became a violent shaking, the jump freighter was about to release the energy it had stored up and punch a tear in space. Suddenly, it stopped, as did all of my senses, my perception of time, and I could swear my heartbeat. I couldn’t hear, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t smell, for a solitary second that dragged on for eternity I was trapped in a dark grave, I was dead. Then light flooded back into my eyes and the sound of screaming metal and wailing trainees met my ears, I convulsed violently, the straps on my wrists digging into my flesh, I tried to open my eyes but all I saw were blurry shapes like looking through frosted glass. My mind was muddled, I couldn’t remember where I was, why I was hurting. Like crawling out of molasses my mind started to come together, pieces of memories, experiences, sensations, my vision came back into focus, I remembered where I was and what had happened.

I gasped, fully conscious again, as the people around me moaned and struggled, a few vomited, the pilot was doubled over in his seat, laughing at the chaos. I spat out my bit and it fell to the floor, artificial gravity had been reengaged. The wrist clamps released me and I nursed my arms, deep red welts cut into my skin where I had strained against my bonds in my temporary insanity. They weren’t lying to mess with us, that had been bad. As I released the clasp on my chest and stood up from my crash couch shakily, a few of my compatriots tried to do the same and fell out of their seats, one went face first into a pool of his own vomit. The laughter from the pilot became riotous.

The shuttle disengaged and I watched the massive, blocky bulk of the UNN Goosemother dwindle into a speck through the rear window, the other shuttles disengaging from her hull, almost invisible against the darkness. The hole she had punched in space was now just a haze of colorful cosmic dust and trailing residue. Infront of us, glimpsed through the pilot’s viewport, a giant metal donut was silhouetted against a gleaming terrestrial planet spotted with brown continents and white smears of cloud. As we flew closer the donut ballooned in scale until it became a space station, great spokes linking its central hub to the centrifuge that ringed it. This structure was far too large for artificial gravity generators, it must be spinning to generate inertia. My discomfort forgotten, I watched in awe as we pulled up alongside the massive structure, dwarfed by the hangar our pilot deftly maneuvered into, as if some giant mouth were swallowing our little ship. Clearly this was a military installation, those hangars were large enough to accommodate cruisers and escorts, maybe even a Phobos class battleship.

After our shuttle had landed, a line of embarrassed (and some teary-eyed) trainees filed down the landing ramp with their packs slung over their shoulders, carrying what few personal items they had elected to bring with them. At the bottom of the ramp an officer waited for us with a tablet computer, we stood to attention and returned a salute, some more enthusiastically than others, and he began to check our names against his database. After a short roll call, he motioned to the hangar bay.

“Welcome to UNN starbase Fort Hamilton, or as we like to call it, the Pinwheel. My name is Officer Vasiliev, I see some of you took the jump harder than others...” He eyed a dejected trainee with vomit down his coveralls. “But you’ll quickly find that life here can be pleasant ‘if’ you follow the rules and do as you are instructed.” He put the tablet behind his back and began to walk down the line of men.

“Having completed your basic training on terra firma, you will now begin your marine training, this is a Coalition starbase, meaning that we have many non-human personnel from allied worlds who you will learn to live and work with. Some of you may find this difficult, others may find it undesirable, but creating cohesive units that include Coalition species is paramount to the war effort.”

Everyone knew about the Coalition, it was a defensive pact formed by several alien species and ratified by Earth, with the intention of dissuading an enemy from attacking one of us, an attack on one was an attack on all Coalition planets, and our combined strength could take on any belligerent alien species in known space. The problems had begun when several belligerent species had formed their own military alliance and used it to contest territory, now Earth and her colonies had been drawn into a border dispute light years away and things had turned ugly fast. Joining the military was pretty much the only way someone of my social class would ever go into space and see the galaxy, and although adventure had factored into my decision to enlist, seeing the damage done by the border skirmishes had filled me with resentment and had motivated me to get involved and help.

“You will be forming units with trainees from two other species specially selected for this program, because of the combat area’s distance from Earth you must learn to interact with the locals and fight effectively alongside them. You will be eating with them, living with them, training with them and bunking with them, anyone who can’t cut it gets sent back to Earth, anyone who causes problems gets sent back to Earth, anyone who can’t follow orders gets sent back to Earth, is that clear?

There was a chorus of affirmations, and then we were led through the hangar and into the superstructure of the starbase. It was massive, although the shape was cylindrical, the Pinwheel was large enough that you never noticed its shape no matter how far you walked. As we left the hangar area and emerged into the donut, a cool breeze hit my face, and I looked up to see a painted sky far above me lined with powerful lights spaced at intervals that mimicked the sun. It looked like I could be on any Earth street, buildings on either side lined a long road stretching off far into the distance until it disappeared beneath the curvature of the roof. I stared in awe, my mouth agape, until I was ushered along by an impatient trainee following behind me. I did not feel like I was on a space station, the illusion of the painted roof and the buildings lining the edges of the cylindrical wheel completely fooled the senses, the breeze must be coming from some kind of air circulation system. The odd tree and potted plant stood out, leafy green against the mostly white, spartan architecture. For convenience the Pinwheel was separated into quadrants, and we were instructed to remain within this one, which contained our barracks, schools, shuttle hangars, gyms and recreational facilities. I felt like I was at a resort rather than a military training facility, but in the back of my mind I knew that feeling would soon fade as the hard work began. We were shown to our barracks, a large, squat building that looked as if it would house maybe a thousand trainees, it was split into rooms with two bunks and two lockers each, a mess hall, a communal shower room, toilets and a common room. Boot camp had been rough, I had spent almost a year crawling through wet mud while drill instructors shouted insults at me and running from sunrise to sunset until half of the platoon had passed out, in comparison this facility was downright luxurious. Considering what putting a structure like this into orbit must have cost, they wouldn’t have cut any corners. We were assigned rooms, one human per, some rooms remained empty, I assumed they would house two aliens of a different species as this exercise was not merely for our benefit. The messier soldiers were given time to change and freshen up, and then the tour continued.

As we passed the mess hall, the smells of cooking food not failing to capture my attention, I saw a procession of Krell enter the building, I had never seen one in person before and I couldn’t help but stare. The Krell were huge, lumbering creatures evolved from amphibious reptiles, they looked like bipedal alligators, their toothy, jagged maws permanently twisted into what looked like a sarcastic grin. The great beasts marched into the mess hall, their splayed toes, evolved to stop them from sinking in mud, smacking on the ground and their thick tails trailing behind them. Their scaly, bumpy hide was a dull green in color and they glared at the human trainees with beady eyes that darted back and forth suspiciously. They wore no clothes besides a kind of leather poncho draped across their hunched backs and a belt worn around the waist with dangling pouches of unknown purpose. The humans shifted uneasily, it was not the fault of the Krell, but they were fucking scary. They were golems of teeth and scales standing a good two feet taller than a human despite their bad posture. The Krell seemed no more pleased with the humans, and they seemed to exchange questioning looks between their companions, at least that’s what I assumed, Krell did not have much in the way of emotive facial expressions.

“I see some of our friends have arrived!” Chirped Vasiliev. One of the Krell, slightly larger than the others and wearing a poncho that was the same shade of blue as a Coalition uniform separated from the group to greet him. They seemed friendly, and chattered in a guttural language I didn’t understand for some minutes as we all stood around shifting our weight from foot to foot, nervously staring down the Krell. Satisfied, Vasiliev returned to the group.