FNA Alparena was the gods’ end of nowhere, at least to Seriphyn. Commandant Enoittinon Givelle had invited the young general to assist a class of first years with parade and drill training, given Seriphyn’s background as a former Federal Marine. He wasn’t sure whether or not to be insulted or honoured; it was unclear if they were eulogizing his previous service as a grunt, or seeing him as nothing more than a lowly drill sergeant. He was no fan of marketing himself as a spoilt, white collar officer, however, so took the opportunity to bring himself down several levels of association by accepting the offer.
After weaving through the local pirate infestations, he docked up, and felt somewhat satisfied as his pod was being taken to the Academy halls itself, away from the unaffiliated rabble that were confined to the capsuleer areas of the station. A somewhat attractive fourth year cadet greeted him, adorned in regulation Intaki uniform. He appreciated how the female bust seemed to perk so well through tight women’s shirts, before he realized that she was probably almost a decade younger than himself. It didn’t take long for Seriphyn to subsequently realize he’s likely slept with capsuleers only a couple years junior of the cadet in front of him. He sighed.
Seriphyn was left in one of the various staff rooms at this particular area of the station. He immediately felt uncomfortable. Despite being as coveted a rank as Luminaire General, moreso that he fought to earn it, he always reminded himself of his former life. He was not one of high education or class, yet his title identified him as having such. The half-Caldari was sure his mother was in on it.
The first arrival at the staff room was a Command Sergeant Major known as Bernhadt, to whom Seriphyn believed to be a Sebiestor, if only because of her pale skin and build. His discomfort grew, as Bernhadt was a whole decade and a half his senior, and her rank identified her as the exact sort of person Seriphyn was subordinate to just only a few years ago. She showed respect, but the younger man was completely helpless in her presence. Seriphyn did learn, however, that her being here was necessary due to the arrival of several Marine officer candidates on station. Almost immediately, he wished that he had agreed to help them instead, knowing they would have been, just about, in his league.
A pair of forgettable petty officers came next, followed by the Lieutenant-Captain in charge, whom Seriphyn latched onto for some degree of security. The small talk ended at that point.
“So, what’s this parade then?” Seriphyn inquired
The Lt/C sipped his coffee, “A memorial parade…it’s in remembrance of the Intakis that perished during the Gallente-Caldari War…”
The immediate reaction from Seriphyn was a nervous wince.
“Yeah…” his opinion was silently acknowledged, “There’ll even be some dignitaries from the Syndicate as well…Army, Marines, Navy…this year? Mordu’s Legion as well”
A slow whistle, “Fuck me, that’s gonna be tense as shit”
“Tell me about it…” came the frowned agreement from the Lt/C, along with similar murmurs from the other three present.
Seri was given a class of around thirty first year cadets, ranging from eighteen to twenty years of age. Very few of them were in Intaki regs; most of the lot were in standard Federal rig, to which Seri made his first point of banter upon falling in.
“Fuckin’ ‘ell…” he said, pacing up and down the front rank, “What sorry arse rock did you lot come from then?”
There was, of course, no reply. One cadet wasn’t wearing his cap. He was in trouble.
“Oi, you” he pointed to the offender, “The shit ‘appened to your cap?”
“Lost it, sir”
“Bloody lost it?”
“Aye, sir”
The ranks were tense, and Seriphyn needed a way to install immediate respect without making himself seem like a stuckup officer cunt, a perception he dreaded. The kid, identified as Bhupyti, was summoned to the front. He was not much shorter than Seriphyn.
“What’s on the cap, cadet?” he inquired, maintaining close facial contact.
“The eagle, sir”
“And what is the eagle?”
“A bird, sir”
“A fuckin’ bird?” Seriphyn laughed, and so did the rest of the cadets, even if they weren’t exactly sure what they were laughing about, “Did you leave your brain in your cap?”
“No, sir”
That was more than enough. A single joke, and a single demonstration of abiding by regulation, was satisfactory. Bhupyti was sent back to his spot, while Seriphyn assumed authority at the front again.
“If you forget your cap” he said, emphasizing each word, “You’ll be sent ‘ome on the day of the parade. Not only is it apart of your uniform, that eagle represents everything we stand for. No, it’s not just ‘a bird’, but it is a symbol of what we fight to protect”
Seriphyn was sure to caricature his vocal delivery of what Bhupyti called the winged animal. He suddenly became very self-conscious that he was trying too hard to be casually authoritarian.
“Right…” he rubbed his chin, “Let’s see ‘ow you numpties can do…”
They braced themselves, and so did he.
“Squad!” he adjusted the volume control slightly as they stiffened in preparation, “Squad, at-ten-shun!”
The following was an awkward, barely synchronized mess of either foot stomps, or hesitatingly dragged feet. Seriphyn controlled laughter.
“Oh my gods…” was his shockingly amused reply, “’ave any of you done drill before?”
There was no reply, other than the guttural start of a sentence from one or two who thought it may be possible to respond. A second, louder repeat of the question beat the stutters out into full answers, which Seriphyn already knew.
“Look…the fuck is this?” he mirrored, with his own experienced professionalism, standing to attention with a raise of his knee and a stamp of his foot, as some of the cadets had done.
“We’re not the fucking Army!” he forwardly condescended in a mild volume, “Can anyone tell me what ‘appens if you stamp your foot on a ship?”
Again, they were clueless. Seriphyn rolled his eyes and rephrased the question.
“Can anyone tell me what ‘appens if you stamp your foot on one of the old wooden galleons of the Royal Navy?”
There was a collection of stuttered murmurs in response to the question, all involving the general notion of damaging the wooden deck. Seriphyn gave a slow nod with an affirmative, quietly congratulating them for their initiative.
“That’s right. The Marines don’t do it either. Army, yes, us, no. Lots of you ‘ave watched Centurion Day parades I imagine, but it’s simple…”
He instructed them on the correct process of standing too attention, now as a tutor, having chided them enough for this specific error. It took about a quarter to half of an hour to get the basic command nailed, along with its opposite order to stand at ease. A few turn commands came after, along with mildly stepping on the toes of anyone that raised their knee, ruining their pristinely polished shoes as punishment. Seriphyn told them to stand easy to engage in some banter again.
“Right then, I only see one of you in Intaki rig…that Jin-Mei over there? Well, I don’t even know what the fuck that is, cadet, might as well be Feythabolian”
There was laughter, with less nerve than before, now with more earnest amusement. Seri knew he set the right precedent to continue. His first victim was what looked like a spoilt Luminaire lad, a delicately constructed face that reeked of a white collar upbringing, but easily possessed the potential for that exact type of leadership he wanted to create. Seriphyn immediately envied him, almost saw a bit of what he could have been if life didn’t fuck up his childhood.
“Wha’s your name then? No, fuck your surname, your first name. Pierre? Fuckin’ Pierre?” he laughed fondly, “Mate, you ain’t scarin’ the shit out of no Caldari with that name, ‘ell with it, yea’, we’ll call you Junsoraert instead”.
More amusement.
“Either none of you give two shits ‘bout your ancestry, or none of you are from ‘ere at all. So, Junny, where is it then? Botane? Aw, mate, I bet you really wanted mere and pere to send you to fuckin’ FNA Dodenvale didn’t you? All the way out ‘ere in one of the many ass-ends of Placid instead, no offence to Bhupyti, of course”
As he got acquainted with each of the cadets in his class, he found out that many of the prospects were mixed up, sent to an Academy branch as far away from their homeworld as possible. He wasn’t sure how the lone Intaki cadet got here, but then again, Seriphyn wasn’t sure how he got where he is himself, so moved on to marching thereafter.
“Squad will advance, ri-i-ght…turn!”
There was no stamping of the feet. This pleased him immensely.
“By the right, qu-i-ck…march!”
He winced to himself in visual pain. Not only did he forget to mention arm movements, but he also didn’t mention that marching is exactly like walking. The heinous display of some right feet and arms going forward at the same time pressed him to stop the group immediately.
“Lads, ladies, ‘onestly…it’s not fuckin’ ‘ard…when you’re walkin’ up the fuckin’ pleasure deck, you don’t do this, do you?” he said, demonstrating the ridiculousness of not moving arms to opposing legs, “It looks fuckin’ stupid, and you look like a fuckin’ duck, so don’t do it”
The message was conveyed, even with the joke, “Also, move your fuckin’ arms up to shoulder height, we ain’t fucking Caldari and keep it near our sides. Don’t put your palms out either, the Lyaceans do it and it looks bloody gay. Yea’, I ‘ad a few men in my time, but I can tell you, that’s fuckin’ gay, so keep it stiff, and cocked forward”
The inevitable laughter came at the innuendo. Seriphyn conceded a stifled grin, “Yea’, alright, very fuckin’ funny…”
The rest of the morning proceeded along. The twenty-nine cadets all returned to their mess, chattering amongst themselves with glee after their encounter with the famed capsuleer, all honed with what they needed to know. Seriphyn did not remember any of their names, except one of the older, more attractive first years, but he was astounded at the feeling of accomplishment. With total strangers, he was able to install familiarity, respect and authority within just a few hours. He felt emotionally invested in the futures of these young people, yet was afraid to ask for a second visit. As much as he tried to, he had convinced himself that he was a “General”, not a friendly ensign, and left resting easy that the singular encounter was more than enough to make an impression, his persona hopefully staying with them for however long they choose to remember it.
As Seriphyn was proceeding by himself back to his pod gantry, he encountered the CSM waiting near it, a soft smile from the woman not nearly offsetting the mild intimidating nature of her height.
“Oh, ‘ey…” he gave a playful narrow of his eyes, “You allowed ‘ere?”
“Hope you don’t mind, sir” she shrugged, the use of the form of address immediately making him instantly regret his jestful comment, “I came to see how it went”
“Oh, oh, yea’, it was good, certainly. Nice group of kids, they’ve all got potential…” he wasn’t too sure who outranked who here.
Bernhadt made it instantly clear the previous topic was just small talk, as a silent pause descended. She carried on once it was made clear that the subdued Seriphyn would not pick up the conversation, “I…just want to say I’m…sorry…about what happened”
The younger man frowned immediately, either from offence of so casually bringing up the subject, or just grim appreciation for the gesture. He glanced at her helplessly, “Yea’, well…what can you do, huh?”
“It’s inspiring, what you do, that is. Despite such a loss, you’re here, hanging out with young cadets as if nothing happened at all. You carry on, you carry on against all odds, even bearing the heavy weight of being a capsuleer too. I…don’t know how you do it…”
His reply was a weak smile of thanks, “I…still ‘ave a daughter…she lost just as much as me…this…this Federation…” he looked around the hangar, “It’s alright…I mean, it can be great…but it’ll never compare to my Anette…never. Just her…her and her beautiful blue eyes…she’s enough to fight for…to die for”
Bernhadt smiled back, the two soldiers suddenly being brought to the same level of familiarity, of mutual understanding, just for that brief moment, despite all their differences. Her compassion had given him drive to continue on, and his strength had given life to her aging face. That was all they needed from each other.
Seriphyn went on his way.
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Topic: Drill (Read 1084 times)