First Contact

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels at times, but don't for one second think that I am one of them." - The Detainee, the Lady Lord of Hell, the Matron of Suffering.

Five days had passed since Vuxten had eaten the first home-cooked meal he had been presented with in nearly twenty-five years. In that time he had helped oversee First and Second Telkan Marine Division's unloading of vehicles, accountability for arms, vehicles, equipment, and Marines. He'd dealt with ensuring that almost the entirety of the two divisions had received between five and forty-five days of block leave.

Vuxten had to admit, he was more tired than he felt he should be. He knew that part of it was just the never-ending duties of being in a G7 slot, where he was responsible for training of both divisions.

He had to admit, part of him wasn't looking forward to his stint in TRAining and DOCtrine command.

Then again, he was taking over one of the training commands that handled basic training and some advanced individual training.

He sighed and looked at his email again.

It hadn't changed.

It was a notification from PERSonnel COMmand.

He had the time in service, the time in grade, and the necessary deployments and commands.

He had been examined by a board of his peers and superior officers, who had examined his military performance, duty stations, and actions. Had looked at his schooling, his performance in combat and in garrison, had looked at his letters of recommendation.

His name and file had been submitted to the Telkan Senate Military Committee. Normally, the list with his name on it would be submitted to the Telkan System Director, but because the person elected to that office was his wife, his name had been submitted to another board.

The Confederate Armed Services Promotion Board and PERSCOM had approved his promotion.

The letter informed him of all of this information. Finishing with telling him one simple thing.

On the first of the month he would be a Colonel.

Has it really been ten years? he thought to himself, reaching up to his collar and touching the black oakleafs on his lapel. It seems like only yesterday I was being advised it was time for me to quit running around the battlefield with my rifle.

It still seemed almost too quick for his tastes.

Then he looked at the 'temporal warfare time in service' and 'temporal warfare time in grade' lines and the adjustments.

It didn't seem that long at the time, he mused. I've been in for a lot longer than it seems like.

Part of him knew, from his Temporal Warfare Casualty Counseling, that part of his brain tried to keep him anchored to the rest of the universe, tried to keep his mind on that time scale.

It's only been twelve years since that fateful night my comlink went off to tell me to report for special duty, he thought. Ten years since Peacock saved my life. Six years since the Atrekna arrived in force. Two years since Shade Night.

He sighed again.

And twelve years for me just since my brother Luke fixed my genecode, he thought. Only four Red Sun Dives, that only took three months outside.

He pushed back, standing up and moving around his office.

He had only been in the office for five days. He didn't see the need to put up decorations or mementos since he'd be going on leave at midnight and transferring duty stations to Fort Thanglak, only thirty miles from the capital city.

It'll only be an hour by grav-car from where I'll be with Brennie to my office, he thought. He shook his head as he started slowly pacing the room. I used to spend over an hour on the hoverbus between my humble apartment and work.

For a second he remembered how many times it was only two hundred paces from his buried and armored hooch to the Tactical Operations Center.

That last drop was unlucky. Still, we managed to save a half-billion people, Vuxten thought. He stopped pacing and moved back to the desk, sitting down and closing his email.

There was a knock at the door and he called for them to enter.

Staff Sergeant Trewluk came in. "Everyone's gone, sir," he said. "We're the last ones in the building."

Vuxten closed down the spreadsheet, saving it before closing the program, then shut off the datacomp.

"All right. Let's go so we can lock this place up," he said.

The SSG nodded, following Vuxten out. They walked by the Staff Duty, someone from the garrison that had already been present on Telkan before First and Second Divisions had returned home.

"Where are you off to after this, sir?" the SSG asked.

"Leave. I'll be promoted to full cluster on the first, then take over a position at Fort Thanglak," Vuxten said.

"That's where I went to basic and infantry AIT," the SSG said. "Two and a half years for them, thirty-five years for me."

Vuxten nodded.

"You've pretty much been in service longer than anyone else, right, sir?" the SSG asked.

"Kinda sorta," Vuxten said. He dug in his pockets for his keys. "I got conscripted when the PAWM were on the way. There's people whose Red Sun Drops give them more time in service than me."

The SSG nodded, lifting up the fob and thumbing it.

A little economical ground car beeped twice, flashing its headlights and running lights.

"Good luck, Colonel," the SSG said.

"You too, Sergeant," Vuxten said. He moved over and got into his vehicle. A surplus grav-car that he'd picked up off of the post bulletin board. He set it for the Officer's Club, figuring he'd just hang out there for a few hours, till Zero Hundred Hours, so he could sign out on leave.

Then, I can go home, Vuxten thought, calling a quick number then a couple others.

If he was going to have a couple beers, he'd like to spend it with a few friends.

-----

The nearest O-Club parking lot was packed. A lot of shiny vehicles, lots of chrome and Nu-Gold, a lot of them with plates or flags to show the rank of the officer who owned it. Vuxten let the autopilot park instead of trying to do it himself.

The last thing he wanted was to ding up someone else's vehicle.

It wasn't that long ago owning a vehicle was nothing more than a pleasant fantasy to be had after watching a commercial we thought was aimed at the Overseers but was actually just to remind us of our place, Vuxten thought.

He wrapped his cloak around himself, tugged his hat on, and trudged toward the entrance where there was a line. He noticed that everyone in line was wearing their dress blacks, with their award sashes, and their dress capes, their shoes highly polished and reflecting the lights that flashed in the windows of the O-Club.

He got to the back of the line and waited.

After a few moments a beat-up open bed cargo grav-lifter parked at the far side of the parking lot. A few Telkan and four Terrans bailed out of the back as a massive figure climbed out of the cab, slamming the door loud enough that some people turned and looked. Two other Telkan got out of the passenger side of the cab.

Vuxten smiled and waved.

Casey and his four sons waved back.

As they came up, Vuxten could hear Casey talking.

"...just rockstars his freshman year of college. Top grades, full athletic scholarship, hot girlfriend, admired by one and all," the big Terran was saying, a grin plastered across his face.

Vuxten groaned.

"The kid's dad goes, oh son of mine, you have exceeded by far the demands of honor laid upon us by our ancestors. With such accomplishments comes a reward from our clan. What do you desire most of all, my son?" Casey said, smiling.

The Telkan and the Casey brothers were all paying attention as they got in line behind Vuxten.

"I want a pink golfball, oh sire. That is my most feverent wish, as it has been since I was but a child, the kid says. The father knew it was coming and, with a flourish, presents the kid with a pink golfball," Casey said.

"You've been telling this joke for, what, almost fifty years?" Vuxten asked.

The line was moving quickly.

"Just over twelve hundred, Colonel," Casey grinned. He turned back to the others. "So, the next year, his junior year of university, the kid is once again a massive rockstar. We're talking he's in the campus newsletter. He saves some cat-girls from a fire in their sorority building, he rescues a child that fell in the river, and he brings great honor to his house playing grav-ball," Casey grinned. "At the end of the year, the kid's father brings him into the Hall of Honor, beneath the gaze of their ancestors, and says, knowing the answer: What do you desire, oh progeny of mine?"

"Ahem," the bouncer's voice broke into the joke.

Vuxten turned and looked. The bouncer had on the dust and powder that was popular with Telkan officers of the Telkan Marine Corps that were stationed on Telkan-1 and Telkan-2.

"Yes?" Vuxten asked, motioning Casey to quiet.

"We have a dress code," the bouncer said, motioning at their dress blacks.

Vuxten stared. "This is the Officer's Club. I'm an officer," Vuxten stated.

"You are wearing duty uniform," the bouncer said.

Casey stepped up, wearing the Telkan Marine Corps adaptive camouflage. He looked down at the Telkan bouncer.

The bouncer swallowed thickly as her realized he only came up to the massive Terran's sternum.

Casey reached up and tapped the single bar of six stacked blocks on his collar.

"The light saber says that you should move," Casey rumbled.

"This is a club for Telkan Officers only," the bouncer said.

"Officers of the Telkan Marine Corps?" Casey asked.

"Yes," the bouncer said.

Casey threw his cloak off his shoulder and tapped his unit patch. "This Telkan Marine Corps?" he asked.

The bouncer nodded.

"Look, get out of the way," Casey said.

The bouncer nodded and moved back.

Vuxten led the way, pushing through the double doors. Casey held them open for his son and the four Telkan officers that followed.

"Out of the way, jerkass," CW4 Mukstet said, slamming his shoulder into the bouncer.

Inside, the matri' d' scowled, but took their cloaks and hats before leading them over to a table.

"So, the kid gets into his fifth year of university and the father, he knows what the kid's going to want, so he has the finest golfball crafted, with only the finest ultra-pink, hand crafted by Rigellian dommy-mommies," Casey was saying when the waiter came up.

"May I... help you..." he said, the disdain practically dripping off his voice.

"Got any Ol' Smokey 'No?" Vuxten asked.

The waiter made a disgusted face. "Surely not."

"Old Wavy Grain?" Vuxten asked.

The waiter rolled his eyes and sighed. "There might be some in the kitchen," he said.

"I'll take a triple Old Wavy Grain Whiskey, crushed ice, two cherries with stems," Vuxten said.

Everyone ordered, Casey and his sons having to go through a few different alcohol types before the waiter grudgingly admitted to the club carrying it.

Vuxten didn't like the way the waiter was acting like everyone was ordering a tall glass of cat-girl piss.

"What in the name of the Detainee's buttery thighs is his problem?" Mukstet asked, the pilot lighting a smoke stick from the pack he pulled out of his pocket and passed around.

"His broodcarriers won't sing with him because he keeps poking them with the stick that's up his ass?" one of Casey's sons, Faelan, snickered.

Vuxten just smiled, looking around for the waiter.

He saw a group of officers standing up and heading toward them, their faces angry looking, their ears stiff with rage, eyes narrowed.

"Casey," Vuxten said.

"I see them," Casey said.

"No knives," Vuxten said loud enough for everyone to hear. He glanced at Casey. "No punching them into orbit either, ya big thug."

Casey just grinned.

The leader stopped in front of the still seated Vuxten, looking down at him and sneering.

"You're in the wrong place," the Captain said, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Officer," Vuxten tapped his rank. He motioned at the club. "Officer's Club."

The leader sneered again. "There's officers and then there's officers. You're all out of dress code."

"My dress blacks are packed," Vuxten said.

"Then maybe you and your... your... friend should pack," one said.

"That doesn't even make sense," Ciarán Casey laughed. "How about you pack your complaints into your ass, fuzzy."

Vuxten tensed, glancing at the Casey brothers and their father.

They were all grinning.

But so were the Telkan officers with Vuxten.

"Get your REMF ass out of here before I rip a chunk off with my bare hands," Mukstet growled.

"Oh, look everyone, a warrant officer. It's like finding a talking geshpat," one of them said, referring to the little fuzzy animals that were popular, if stupid, pets. He looked at Musktet. "Did your friends help you get your boots on your right feet?"

Mukstet just nodded. "Wanted to make sure I buried the correct boot into your ass, slick sleeve."

"Of all the saddest things I've seen, a Telkan without a combat award is the most sorrowful," Casey grinned.

"Too bad the Lemur Extinction didn't get you too," one of the gathered officers said.

"I'm tough to kill," Casey smiled.

The first one looked at Vuxten. "You and your... friends... should find somewhere else to drink."

"Oh, fuck this," Mukstet suddenly barked out. He grabbed the ashtray, stood up, and smashed it across the speaker's face. Glass, fur, and blood sprayed.

Vuxten jumped forward, tackling the one in front of him that was reaching behind their sash. Trahern Casey jumped up, ripped the table from the support, and threw it across the room to crash against the mirrors and stacked crystal glasses.

"BARROOM BLITZ!" Cathal Casey yelled out. The Telkan he grabbed eyes widened as he suddenly discovered that he was within reach of Casey as the Terran's fist bunched up in his tunic. Casey flung him, one handed, across the room and against the wall with a thud.

Vuxten kneed his opponent in the crotch, stuck a thumb in their eye, and tore their ear free with a twist of his wrist. He kneed them in the chin as he lunged up and tackled another Telkan running into the fray with a broken bottle. He smacked the broken bottle out of the Telkan's fist, drove an elbow into their muzzle, and followed it up by kicking them backwards. He turned, grabbed another officer, and headbutted him in the face before shoving him back and kicking.

Vuxten realized that all the doubt, all the fear, all the anxiety, was gone as he grabbed the wrist of a Telkan with a knife and punched him hard just below the sternum enough that Vuxten had to sidestep the vomit.

He was still laughing and fighting when the MP's decided discretion was the better part of valor and just used high powered stunners on everyone.

-----

Vuxten looked up as the MP stopped outside the cell door. Standing out there was a four cluster general, a full-on General of the Warsteel, a Pubvian in full dress uniform.

"Well, isn't this a cage of carnage?" the General said, shaking his head.

"The Terrans came quietly once we blasted everyone with stunners," the MP said.

"Good thing, do you know who that is?" the General asked. The MP shook his head and the Pubvian gave a laugh, using his middle arm to flatten the fur at the top of his head. "That's a full five Ringerbreakers slash Knights Aesir."

The MP stepped back.

"Even outside their armor, you'd have to send in tanks," the General said. He looked at the MP. "You've also got three of the most famous Telkan in the Corps in that tank."

Vuxten smiled. Mukstet just waved. Ralvex gave a thumbs up.

"We miss your driver?" the General asked Vuxten. "And that well groomed sociopath?"

Vuxten shook his head. "No, sir. They were reassigned to the front out in the Confederate Tomb Worlds."

"Well, at least there's that," the General said. He waved at the MP. "Let them go."

"But..." the MP started.

"The other officers aren't pressing charges providing none of these Marines do," the General said.

The MP sighed and opened the cage.

Ciarán Casey stopped, looking down at the MP. "I could ripped that door off..."

Cathal Casey slapped his son across the back of the head. "Don't make shit worse, boy."

The other Terran ducked his head, his ears turning slightly red.

Vuxten followed the General outside the MP station, looking up at a finally familiar starscape.

"We've got a private party out at one of the lakes, Colonel," the General said. "Why don't you and your companions join us."

"I don't know..." Vuxten started.

"Tossed the enlisted's barracks and snagged us a couple bottles of honest to Luke Ol' Smokey 'No they'd run off through a couple of mek heat exchangers," the General said. "My XO is out there right now," he made a show of looking at his watch. "You don't have to sign out on leave for another three hours. You might as well."

Vuxten looked at everyone else.

Casey gave the thumbs up.

"Sounds good, General," Vuxten said.

-----

Brentili'ik shut off the video and leaned back in her chair. The fuzzy and slightly distorted hologram showed her husband laughing as he blocked a knife thrust and slapped the knife wielder in the mouth so hard teeth flew out.

Part of her knew she would have been alarmed only a decade ago.

But she's read the pamphlets about dealing with a loved one with complex long term PTSD.

She was just glad nobody had been killed.

Although seeing the one-eyed elder Casey through a fat Telkan officer through the window with one hand had made her worry that the airborne officer might have spent time in the ICU.

We're both different now, she thought to herself.

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