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Mother Confessor:

Standing on the far end of the PT facility, standing erect as a statue. Sergeant Nimix circles me slowly in silence. Probably seeing what she has to work with, I speculate to myself. Coming back to her original position in front of me, her eyes seem to bore into me.

“Alright cherry! Give me five klicks”, the Sergeant barks at my still frame.

“Yes, ma’am”, I bellow back, running as fast as I can in the heavy boots toward the track lining the massive enclosure. Taking the outside lane, I take my furiously pounding feet in a counter clockwise direction around the running track. Three hundred meters into my run, my lungs start to burn. I push myself onward, trying to block out the pain in my chest. Rounding the corner, my legs feel as though they might give out. I strain with every fiber of my being to stay upright and in motion. Then it occurs to me that I should pace myself a bit, I was not asked to make a record time. Descending to a much more manageable pace, I feel my lungs start to ease open letting oxygen pour into them.

After making my first kilometer, my endorphins kick in. The neural chemical gives me a sense of wanting to never stop running. Keeping my speed a few notches above jogging pace, so as not to come off as sluggish. The endorphins made me lose all sense of moving my legs altogether. I felt like a torso gliding around the track, with my arms swinging to keep my balance in the air. This felt exhilarating, as it was my first time doing the activity.

Staring down my starting point, as I come up on my third klick. My hearts beating ferociously against my breastplate. Sweat pours out me in many places, not to unfamiliar to me as the exercise is. Raising my hand to swiftly wipe my brow of the salty fluid threatening to fall in to my eyes. Propelling myself forward now starting to feel the stress on my body.

My arms, legs, and sides start to burn as I start my fourth lap. Just one more after this, I tell my stressed limbs, just one more. Keeping my mind on my goal of completing the task despite my body wanting to stop and rest. I push onward.

A part of me feels elated as I begin my final lap. This seems to give me a little boost to push harder, knowing the end is so near. Longing for this to be done with, I sprint the last half of the lap. My thigh muscles screaming in searing agony for me to ease up.

A fter crossing the final stretch of the run, I jog to a jerking halt in front of the waiting Sergeant. Huffing and puffing, immobile before her. My hands on my knees, as I fight to catch my breath.

“Not bad cherry, not bad” , she states her approval at my completion of her first of many tasks.

“Thank you, ma’am”, I manage to puff out, as my lungs learn how to breathe again. She allows me a few moments rest, before barking out her next order.

“Drop and give me fifty, cherry!”

“Yes, Sergeant”, I force my tone louder in compliance.I hit the metal floor hard with my knees and hands. Ignoring the twinge of pain from the sudden jarring, I begin. The tip of my nose just grazes the floor, when I go down. My arms seem to put up a bit of a fight not wanting to raise me up from the surface.

Around my thirtieth push up, my arms start to wobble on the rise. Gritting my teeth and growling I force my arms to work whether they want to or not. Each new push becomes a battle between gravity and my will to defy it.

On the final rise, my arms fail me, and I slam into the metal floor hard on my right cheek. I feel two powerful hands underneath my armpits, bringing me off the cold hard surface.

“You alright there cherry”, Sergeant Nimix asks me with the faintest bit of concern in her voice as she lifts me up to my feet.

“Yes, Sergeant”, I try to project my answer.

“Now just to show how much I enjoy you rolling on the floor, give me fifty sit ups cherry”, she barks at me.

“Yes, ma’am!” I control my decent as I swiftly lower my backside to the floor, knees bent into position. Sergeant Nimix places her feet on top of mine. I feel her immoveable frame, her weight keeping my feet solid and flat on the metal surface.

The first fifteen sit-ups are not so bad, but on the sixteenth, my core starts to burn. As if someone were rolling a red-hot drum over my lower abdomen each time, I contracted the muscles in the region.

“C’mon cherry, tell me you like the burn”, she taunts me.

“Yes, ma’am”, I growl breathlessly back.

“Good cherry, get mad”, she prods at me further.

“Yes, Sergeant”, I growl back louder.

“You need to stop cherry”, she continues her taunting, trying to get me to give up.

“No, Sergeant”, I bark back at her, as I find the air to do so.

“Good cherry, fifty more”, she ups the ante. My abdominal muscles howl at my insane desire to push them further.

Grunting out the last dozen sit-ups, my belly felt like it was on fire. Feeling the Sergeant remove her heavy frame from my feet. She offers me a calloused hand up. Taking it in my delicate grasp, she yanks me off the floor.

“You have nerve cherry, I will give you that”, she tells me while she tries to rip my arm from the socket.

“Thank you, Sergeant!” Rolling my arm making sure it is still attached internally.

Feeling over heated, I remove my BDU top. The cool air feels nice on my flesh. A few of the others using the facility take interest in my removal of the garment. A mash of crude innuendoes calling for me to expose my breasts, to full out stripping to nothing.

“Tough break guys, this cherry is mine! Is there going to be any further discussion on the matter?” The Sergeant barks aggressively at the sexual banter, cracking her heavy knuckles loudly.

“Alright cherry, I shut ’em up, though I can’t stop ’em from watching the show! Hit the bar cherry!” I march over to the bar just above my reach, slinging my top at one end before dangling from it myself.

“Give me twenty five cherry, might as well get ’em hooked before we disappoint ’em”, her tone lowers as she relays the order.

“Yes ma’am.” I fight gravity once more at odds with my will. Pulling my slender chin just a centimeter above the round metal beam. I fight for my second, then my third. This struggle continues for about five minutes, as each pull becomes harder and harder. Like my boots were gradually being weighed down in steady increments.

Making my final struggle with the unyielding law, I drop back to the floor and collect my shirt from it as I do. Feeling my flesh cool down faster in the lighter undershirt, now drenched in my condensation.

“That’s enough for now cherry, chow time”, Sergeant Nimix belays my torment for now. Glancing over my shoulder, as I haphazardly put my shirt back on. I see the lewd crew of men gawking at me. I see why they had been so entranced by my stripping of the over shirt. My nipples were pressing up against the thinner fabric beneath. I follow my trainer toward the mess hall, buttoning up my shirt along the way.

Marckus:

I find myself taking a break from my thoughts and writing up the report. The heavy folder filled with the aliens test results, in hand as I traverse the path to the recovery ward. Feeling a bit relieved to be in motion, and looking forward to seeing my sniper a second time today. She must be bored out of her mind stuck in that bed with nothing to do. I am sure she will find the contents of the folder just as interesting and confounding as I have. If not it will definitely help to pass the time as her knee mends.

Arriving once more to the ward, I spy the mending sniper staring off into nothingness.

“Put your baby to bed”, I ask her.

“Da, and in better spirits than I”, she replies flatly, still peering into the endlessness of waiting.

“Well I brought you some reading material as promised”, handing her the thick file. She almost loses it, as she misjudges just how heavy it is. Resting it on her lap, she begins glancing over the first few pages. A look of puzzlement in her expression, as she starts to see what I had meant about our friend from Ceres.

“How is this even possible”, she asks not taking her eyes off the pages.

“From what I was told by the young surgical tech that brought this to me, a lot of it seems outside of the collective scientific understanding”, I begin, “unfortunately there is a lack of knowing who or what created her.”

Looking up with me, a deeper confusion in her eyes, “You are telling me that she is a synthetic being?”

Nodding at her question, I continue, “From what little evidence that was found, strongly points in that direction. Not going to spoil all of what is in there, but it is quite surprising what they did find out about her. I will leave you to it then, see you later Red.”

Turning on my heels, I leave the sniper to see what I have seen. Wondering if she is thinking what I was thinking when I found out. Should keep her busy awhile as she ponders about the contents within the file. A small smile on my face as I enter the corridor outside the ward, knowing I could find some way to entertain the bedridden sniper. Even if just for a few hours, it should keep her mind active since her body cannot be.

Graxis:

Taking it easy the rest of the evening, I head off toward the cantina in search of a stiff drink. Hoping to find some way of getting all the written pain eased on my mind from the past hours. The luster of peering into the expanse of the endless ocean had lost its shine, as it always did when gazing into it too long. Clacking of boots my only comfort in the sparse corridor, as I walk to my destination. Wanting to waste the remaining hours of the night in a much more enthusiastic atmosphere, to hear the exaggerated tales the younger soldiers tell about battles they have not yet fought. The melodies and tempos of the ambient music, as some dance in the dim lights. To see the smiles of happiness, not those of vicious attacks. Most of all to drink it in, and let it carry me away to the bottom of my glass.

At about thirty meters, my footfalls begin to fade into the music coming for the cantina. It seems the troops decided to liven it up while they had the chance to. Medium tempo and odd rhythm pounding to heavy bass, and synthesized instruments. Sounded like the clubs I had heard a great deal about back home. I never went, instead using my down time to spend with my family, never knowing if I will get the chance again. However, this is not quite the same situation, for my family and home are several trillion kilometers from here in the Sol system.

The driving wall of music seductively works into my senses. My tail seems to have picked up on this and started keeping time to the music, like a serpent being charmed; it bobs and wriggles in time. The rest of my body not quite up to joining in on the party just yet.

Entering in to the jubilant atmosphere beyond the threshold. The air warm from the mass of bodies in motion on the cleared floor.

A familiar voice bellows over the undulating mass, “Hey Graxis, get your ass out here!”

Then I see him, the mountain of muscle just off center of the dance floor, surrounded by females in their civvies. I wave to Rhino and try to sign out my intent on getting a drink before joining them. He nods in understanding my message, with a giant grin.

Leaning up on the bar, two young soldiers trying to have a conversation in the loudness next to me.

“What’ll it be, sir”, the bar tender hollers at me, as he busily mixes cocktails. “Ptaima Pomei Rux, thanks”, I yell my reply over the pounding music. Turning back to the jubilant bodies, I watch as they move in time to the driving bass, and synthetic melody. How graceful the look, though the moment is interrupted by the arrival of my drink as it is clacked on the bar loudly. About facing back to the bar, my eyes fall onto the tall pyramid shaped bottle filled the very dark crimson liquid. Taking the cold glass vial in my hand, I unscrew the cap longing to taste the tangy sweet bitterness of the ale. Taking a swallow of the deep red beverage, savoring the flavor on my tongue. The darkness and weight of the heavy words from earlier in the day starts to fade on my consciousness. Allowing me to enjoy the remainder of my evening, taking another generous swig of the delicious liquid. Feeling the effect of the intoxicating drink begin to work in my system, with every swig. Upon reaching the bottom of the bottle, I order another bottle of the deep crimson ale.

With the fresh bottle of ale, I listen to the small group of young soldiers, as they embellish on some tale of victory in a battle that has yet to pass. I smile to myself, helping myself to the new bottle. Thinking to myself that these troops will get their chance in time, to see if they are really as bold and brave as they claim to be.

Interjecting on the subordinates banter, “Do you really think that you are up to task on the field?” As I nurse my second ale. The four younger soldiers look my way; I turn my gaze to meet theirs.

“Yes, sir”, they collectively proclaim, in their inebriation.

“Good, but know this”, I begin my short lecture taking a swig from my drink, “It is not a picnic taking another’s life. You fight first with your head, and then your heart. Fight with honor and dignity, and you shall find glory. Be it victory or defeat, you must accept the consequence of your efforts adjusting accordingly. And if you should fall, you will meet a warriors death, a proud death.”

Taking another mouthful of my ale, as the younger men stare at me as though I was mad. I think I made my point on the matter, that war is not a whimsical subject. At least not in my experience or opinion.

Finishing off the ale, savoring the last drops of the tangy bitter sweetness as the bottle empties. Placing the bottle on the bar, I turn to the fluid motions of the crowd as they rhythmically move to the music. Finding the uncanny Terran, I join the flowing river of bodies in undulation. Wasting the rest of the night until the wee hours of the morning in tandem with the lively cadence.