The shuttle lurches to a halt, the loading arm completing its entrance into the launch bay. Gripping my chair, I register the tiny gravity fluctuations that follow the spooling of the grav-drives, trying not to picture what happens if anything malfunctions in the process. Oh how I loathe traveling in personnel craft.
The Caelestis's gravity-field gives us a final, terrifying "smack" before our own field powers through it, like a Tiamatian Niibee swimming up the phosphorous streams. With the oscillations gone, our craft hovers into the awaiting launch tube, leaving me with a chance to breathe a sigh of relief and reflect on why I'm riding in this deathtrap in the first place.
When the Second Bion war started, I was fortunate enough to be serving in the Coalition's administrative department before the invasion of Terran began. This led to me being selectively recruited into battlefield analytics aboard the Caelestis, a position not too different from population and resource management, and one that kept me far away from an actual battlefield. Yesterday, however, I was called into a briefing with my SO and a senior official from the Coalition Government. I had expected the reassignment, given the destruction of Fury 3 weeks prior; the Caelestis's support teams had been slowly reduced to skeleton crews since then.
In hindsight, my upbringing on Tiamat must've had something to do with the selection process; being surrounded by aliens growing up has left me quite empathetic to towards them, something the average Terran has struggled with since the IP Wars.
Still, you'd think all of those scrambles for the nearest escape pod any time a false alert went off, or the disaster that was my first (and last) time in a simulator cockpit would've put me down a few pegs on the list of diplomat candidates. Either way, I did not bring up those concerns. Though, after finding out what planet my first assignment is on, I might be having second thoughts about that.
You see, the desert planet of Sebek is one of two planets in the Coalition that willingly allied with the Bions against Terran, in fact, the entire "post-Fury cleanup operation", as it was called by Terran media, could've been an entire other war altogether. Since then, the Sebekians have gone underground, hiding in their massive temple complexes, while their allies, the Pandanians, haven't responded to Coalition communication requests.
The frustrated muttering of random numbers from the cockpit means we're preparing for wormhole transition; the new wormholes that have opened up since Fury's destruction means we no longer have to travel to Ares to access most of the galaxy, but it must be so tedious to have to memorize all the new coordinates.
This gives me a opportunity to refresh my knowledge of Sebek history I think, retrieving my case from my side,and feeling the weight of the bulky tablet inside. I slide my hand inside the case and pull out the device, its rounded edges peeking out from between my fingers, and reaching back in the case to grab a loose data-card. The less-than-honest cover features the only anorexic female Pandanian on Sebek, dressed in an officer's trench coat similar to my own, arms crossed and a smug look of triumph on her face. An impressive amount of track-laden vehicles flank her, while several Tiger Fighters (the Pandanian's main fighter aircraft) fly over the scene. The title is simply "Nomadic Pride: The History of Sebek." I insert the data-card into the device and wait for it to load. The co-pilot's still reciting numbers, so I'll have time to at least skim it. The screen comes to life to two animated depictions of a male and female Pandanian waving at the reader, the male being the more honest rendition, given his "chunky" appearance, although still quite idealized, the female, who's proportioned like a heroine from the serials I watched growing up, is the complete opposite of their typical stout frames. In the summarized bio (which the avatars are all too happy to hold their paws around for the reader) it claims Pandanians were named as such due to their resemblance to the extinct animal species from ancient Terran, which they even provide a recreated photo of. Considering the black and white fur and the rounded ears, this is the most accurate statement so far. The rest of the bio, which I'm starting to notice is rather... biased, to say the least, features boasts about biological features every sentient species in the galaxy has to some regard. I slide the page away, which seems to disappoint the avatars, avatars, who make little sighing noises as the next page loads. This page has two different avatars, a pair of scrawny, jackal-like creatures hunched over, clutching their claw-like hands together and cackling. The title of the page is "Nature's Mockery: The Scum of Sebek." That title alone is enough to make me put down the tablet and notice we're about to enter the wormhole to Sebek.
The rest of the data-card's material is much the same, praising the various accomplishments of the Pandanians, while lambasting the Sebekians for daring to exist.
Besides providing me the knowledge of various slurs for a Sebekian, it does let me know the Pandanian-Sebekian divide runs deep, much deeper than something as recent as the Second Bion War.
Battlefield reports state before the Bions fled Sebek when the main Coalition fleet arrived that both races were working together, but this deteriorated rapidly as soon it became clear the Bions weren't coming back; hard to believe a race of bionic killers could be such good mediators.
The shuttle leaves as quickly as it arrives at the hidden Terran spaceport, far out of sight of Sebekian temples or Pandanian encampments. Only a minute in the desert sun and I've got some strongly-worded things to say about the Terran official dress code; the baking spaceport is encircled by 4 imposing grey cylindrical tanks, the function of which is made obvious by the scattered groups of thirsty soldiers sheltering underneath their shaded foundations exposes their function. My heart sinks upon seeing my local transportation. A single craft takes up the far landing pad, a well-weathered Pandanian Hover Craft. Great, just great.
Not wanting to spend a moment longer in the sun, I fast walk over to the death-machine, spotting a hefty Pandanian chest-deep in an open side-panel, looking more like a mechanic than a pilot, grumbling to herself.
"Stupid coolant regulator... can't you handle a single flight without going COMPLETELY out of sync?"
"Um, Excuse me, miss? I take it you're supposed to take me to the main Pandanian encampment?" I ask.
She clambers out of the panel, not particularly messy, except for her head-fur, which might just always be like that. "Oh, hello!" The Pandanian smiles, wrapping her large furry arms around me, their equivalent of a handshake not helping at all with the heat, but manners are manners.
"I'm Mia, and you are?" she asks.
"Erm, Damien, nice to meet you."
She disengages the hug, still beaming. "So, shall we get going then?"
"So, you're an experienced pilot I take it?"
Mia's smile fades, being replaced with a look of embarrassment. "Umm, well, I was in the Pandanian fighter program..."
I nod. "Oh, well, I'm glad to hear that; you see, I'm a bit paranoid when it comes to flying."
The look doesn't get any better. "...I flunked out."
My face turns as white as the heat will allow. "WHAT?!"
"I mean, I didn't crash or anything! I was just having problems with safety checks, they ask you to remember so much!"
If there was something to lean on besides this Hover Craft, I would. "Wait, wait, how are you flying if you flunked out?"
Mia perks up again. "Oh, well that was easy! With the majority of the Pandanians pilots dead or missing after the war, they needed to find others from somewhere!" She closes the side-panel and pats the side of the craft. "Personally, I'd rather be flying a Tiger Fighter, but we all have to start somewhere, don't we?"
This is the worst my anxiety has ever been. I'm not even worried about meeting the Pandanian leadership, we're never even going to see them.
"Are you sure your straps aren't too tight? You look a little pale..."
"Please just focus on taking off, I'm fine."
Mia begins working down the instruments of the cockpit, though I'm only paying attention because it's the only thing to try and focus on.
"APU on, Engines powering up, looking good so far," Mia says. When the cockpit begins to shake, I close my eyes. From the sounds I hear, I can tell we've taken off, but I can't yet bear to look.
Peeking with one eye, I see us hovering pass the spaceport.
"Talk about something, Mia, please."
"Huh? Like what, Damien?"
"Anything, tell me about the Pandanian leader."
"Umm, well, her name is Jun, she's only been in charge about a month now, definitely a novice, like me!"
"Continue, please, what is her personality like?"
"Oh, well, she's always been really angry every time I've seen her, and she yells a lot during her speeches, though I think she might just be upset about all the Pandanians that died during the war."
"Okay, well, that's good to know, thank you, Mia."
Mia looks away from the window and smiles. "You're welcome, Damien!"
"...Please focus on flying."
The Hover Craft, and my heart, both survive the flight to the encampment.
It's encircled by tracked all-terrain vehicles, protecting the tents in the center. The guards don't seem too thrilled about a Terran being here, but they aren't making any violent movements yet.
"Well, Damien, I'll be waiting by the Hover Craft, good luck!" Mia hugs me again, a little tighter than the last time.
I start making my way to the largest tent, which I assume to be the leader's, and hear quite the commotion coming from inside...