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This story was sparked by a combination of influences. First was watching a young Claudia in 'A Country Practice' and 'GP'. Cyclone Claire (ACP) in particular captivated me - full of enthusiasm, barely contained energy and naivety.
Straight after this came glimpses of Aeryn's former life on the Command Carrier (thanks Froon) (ITLD), and my muse started to put the two together.
Note: - young Aeryn broke her foot long before David Beckham did - but coverage of that particular national disaster allowed me to confirm the painfulness of the injury.]
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ScrubRunner
In all their fourteen cycles ship to ship transfers had been rare. There was an undercurrent of anticipation among the cadets, but they strove to hide it. As they docked they were tugging uniforms straight, and hefting identical black bags containing all their near-identical possessions, ready to file out.
As they paraded on the hangar deck they managed to show neither excitement nor curiosity: this was merely the next routine step in the training cycle that had filled their young lives. They were reviewed by a sergeant who, while his manner might be respectful, yet managed to convey utter contempt for them. That was routine too. They might be potential officers - but right now they were just know-nothing cadets.
The hangar was teaming with activity. Transports, barges, all the workhorse craft that kept the fleet functioning. And just one cadet's eyes roved eagerly over the scene, scanning every face - recognising none.
A cane cracked across the back of her hand. She all but dropped her weapon.
"Are we boring you Cadet?"
"Sir. No, Sir!"
"Name."
"Cadet Aeryn Sun, Sir."
"Eyes front, Cadet."
She locked her gaze on a point just below his chin, as the sting of the blow deepened to a fiery throbbing, and she wondered what would come next.
But another transport roared in, and more cadets scurried down the steps, saving her further humiliation. Her own cohort were right-turned smartly and marched off out of the way. All the way, as always, her eyes flicked over the faces of the adults - only this time she remembered not to turn her head.
The narrow bed, locker, weapon rack, were familiar; comfortable. The half screens, giving an illusion of personal space, were still new to them, a concession since they turned fourteen.
They had half an arn to get settled in, and cleaned up. Bunk spaces were allotted in order of merit, and confirmed with a swipe of the ident tag. Aeryn's place was about a third of the way down the first row.
Orientation, weapons checks, drill; then at last they were free. Not that free time necessarily meant relaxation. The cadets had evolved a high-energy ball game, involving passing, kicking and ferocious tackling. Aeryn, skinnier and lighter than many of her age group, was a fast tactical player working furiously to keep the ball moving forward.
The opposing team had been on the carrier for half a cycle and considered themselves the home team. There was little mercy on either side. Eventually, going down in a tangle of limbs, Aeryn cracked skulls with a fair-haired girl. They were both momentarily stunned, and the play moved on.
Aeryn brushed blood from a split brow and grinned in sudden recognition at the other girl. "Henta? - I didn't know you were here."
"Welcome aboard, Aeryn," she said. "I think you broke my nose."
Aeryn hauled herself to her feet, and held out her hand to help the other to girl up, before running on to rejoin the fray. Somewhere above, in Cadet monitoring, the same Sergeant-Tutor gave a grunt of disapproval. His colleague asked, "What?"
"Pilot-Cadet Sun," he pointed at the screen, "Plays like a demon then spoils it." He pulled up her record, tutted, and added a note.
Oblivious, on the playing pitch, Aeryn and Henta clasped hands as the game ended. "... in the Mess later?" Henta said.
Aeryn nodded, and smiled, and slapped her on the shoulder. "Sure!"
The reunion with Henta was the first of many with cadets she had trained with over the years. But the highlight of this new posting was the ScrubRunner simulator; and there Pilot-Cadet Aeryn Sun was truly at home. She had been born to be a soldier, she was shaping up as an effective commando, but if any PeaceKeeper cadet was ever meant to fly it was the young Aeryn Sun.
* * * *
Flying wasn't all they learned. About a quarter of a cycle into their training they were divided into squads of seven and sent into the terrain simulation areas. The commando and ScrubRunner training ran side by side because if these cadets could not pass commando training they would not learn to fly fighters, and if they could not learn to fly fast attack craft they could never be Special Commandos.
This area was wilder than any they had previously experienced. The cadets were introduced to the joys of razor grass, Maldian death spiders, blood vines and drop bears. It was a tangle of trees and undergrowth, tumbling waterfalls and sudden ravines.
For two days they lived rough in the area, honing their survival skills.
Then suddenly it was for real. "Your squad is down in hostile territory," they were told. "You can expect no assistance from anyone you encounter here. Your task is to secure the local command post. Usual rules of training-engagement apply. We do not expect to hear from you until you have captured the post, or you are all prisoners."
The Sergeant-tutor looked around at the young squad. "Any questions?"
"Sir!" Tarth, the Senior Cadet, spoke up. "Do we have any information on the command post?"
"You do not Cadet. You lost equipment when you were downed. You, you and you, surrender your packs. Now go."
"Sir?" Aeryn put in on a sudden inspiration. "Sir? Did we overfly the command post as we came in?"
The Sergeant smiled. "You did not, cadet."
"And which direction did we come in?"
The Sergeant-Tutor pointed back at the area in which they had been training.
"Thank you, Sir," she said.
The Sergeant watched them a moment, then left - back into the world of the carrier. For the cadets the illusion was now the only reality. Until the exercise was concluded - successfully concluded - they were adrift in a hostile environment where even the vegetation could be lethal. But they were young, and fit, and well trained, and so they looked forward to the exercise as a challenge.
"At least," Aeryn grinned. "We know which direction not to go in."
Gineen Tarth, senior Cadet present, took command. There was little, in fact, to be decided; just which long-practised routine best fitted their situation.
"Search pattern Premno," he decided. "Sun, you are on point. Do not break cover." And with the other cadets covering flank and rear the squad moved off.
The terrain became more open, offering only scrub for cover. The low stuff straggled across the ground and made progress tricky. Aeryn scurried from clump to clump, making always for higher ground for a better view of the area. Always she was aware of her team, behind and to either side; she glimpsed them from time to time as they ran forward. This was what they had long practised, and they revelled in the run.
Suddenly there was a deep gully at Aeryn's feet. In a microt Tarth caught her up.
"No point wasting time crossing that, Sun."
"No. . ."
"Work up toward the crest," he pointed.
"I think I hear water, Tarth," she said. They were sharing canteens, leaving them constantly short of water.
"Good idea. Quickly though, we're exposed here."
She slipped a rope round her waist and Ritzen took the strain as she abseiled quickly to the bottom. She filled the canteens, and they hauled them up quickly. Eagerly, Elil Sakur grabbed one and drank.
"Test that water, Sakur."
"Oh come on Tarth. We've been here two days - we have already drunk the water."
"And now we are on exercise, Officer. The rules apply!"
"We're on the carrier for Cholack's sake!" Sakur said.
Quietly, Jekan Yserin drew a phial from a canteen and tested it. He held it up to the light, grinning. "It's cloudy, Tarth," he announced, "Looks like Klach . . . Low dose though." He shook some salts out of a pouch and added them to his canteen, purifying the contents.
"Hmm!" Tarth grunted. "Low dose? Just as well, eh Sakur?" They all knew that Sakur would be having trouble with his digestion for several arns. he looked sheepishly at his comrades, wondering if he already felt sick. Aeryn reappeared at the lip of the gully - a wry grin at Yserin told him that No, she didn't need a drink thanks, she had already drunk from the stream; and she too was in for an uncomfortable time.
Despite this, the team carried on making good progress, scurrying forward until ever clearer ground forced them to more caution. They were working steadily towards a low rise. With luck they would reach it before dusk fell and get a good view of the area. They failed to notice that clumps of the vicious razor grass were forcing them to drift gradually closer together. Finally Sakur, on point, reached the rise. Crawling low so as not to break the skyline – his hand touched something off and suddenly he was swearing bitterly, rolling clear, clutching his bloodied hand. A blast lit the area and they were showered with debris. "A mine!" he yelled.
Then all Hezmana broke out. The clear route was an ambush, and bunched up as they were they made an easy target. Aeryn heard Myal cry out at the same moment as a pulse blast threw her hard against a tree. As she spun round, bringing her rifle to bear, the dry ground under her foot gave way, crumbling, and she fell feet first into a steep cleft. The stricken Myal rolled down towards her.
Above, the fire fight went on for several more manic microts, then faded away.
Cadet Myal, Cadet Sun – what is your status?"
<Pompous ass, > Aeryn thought – but she said, "Uh – not sure, Tarth. I'm hooked up on my rifle sling. I've broken something - and Bozna's out cold."
"Can you climb back up here?"
"Uh – with a little help – I think."
She clawed at the thick vegetation, and grunted again as her number ribs flared with sudden pain.
"Cadet – are you mobile?"
"No Tarth – I am not. Give me a moment. . ."
"Wait here for pick-up. You are both non-com. Can you stabilise your injuries?"
"Yes, Tarth. But . . ."
"Wait here, Cadet Sun. Attend to Cadet Myal. We cannot wait for you."
Jekan had already slid part way down to her. "He'll go far," he hissed, "I just hope I never have to serve under him. Can you cope?" She gritted her teeth and nodded a smile.
Jekan tossed her his medi-pack as he scrambled back up. "Good luck, Aeryn."
The remains of the squad moved off in pursuit. They knew now that the base lay close. And Aeryn Sun clung on the steep slope. She had plenty of time now to assess her injuries. Her ribs hurt like Hezmana. Something was broken in her foot or ankle. There were minor aches and scrapes where she had tumbled down the slope.
She had been lucky so far, getting this far in her training without broken bones. She was amazed to discover how much it hurt. The best splint was the boot itself, and she knew, or at least she had been taught, that to remove it was a mistake. The foot would swell and she would be unable to get the boot back on. But every move, as her foot took her weight, was an agony. The young Aeryn was very glad that she was alone. She would have been ashamed to have her Unit see how the pain made her sweat and drained the colour from her skin. Her hair was plastered in strands round her face.
Think through it, they had been taught. The pain is your body's warning to you that something is wrong. If you have acknowledged that, and done all you can to prevent further damage - you must ignore the pain. Your duty is to fulfil your orders.
Slightly above her Bozna Myal lay very still. Aeryn dragged herself across to check. She lay there, still looking very surprised, stone dead!
Their pulse weapons were modified for cadet training – but they were still dangerous. They had to deliver a blast powerful enough to put an opponent out of action. An unlucky shot could still stop a heart. Myal had been unlucky.
Then Aeryn heard retching further down the slope. It had to be one of the opposing squad. "Hey?" she called. "What is your situation?"
He carried on retching.
"Oh, for . . ." she muttered. "You need help? Hang on!"
Gingerly she crabbed and slithered down the slope. It was considerably easier than up!
The cadet had fallen a long way, snapping off a sapling and impaling himself on the stump. "I'm stuck," he grunted – unnecessarily.
As she watched aghast he made a supreme effort, hauled himself up onto hands and knees and rolled free.
"Idiot!" Aeryn hissed. She tore through the contents of Jekan's medi-pack, finding the dressings and strewing much of it on the gully floor. But she was quick and precise wrapping bandaging tightly round his middle. Gradually the blood flow was stemmed - to seep only slowly through the dressing. She didn't care to wonder what the internal damage might be.
"There. You might live," she said.
"Thank you."
She lay back a moment, gasping. "You're welcome."
"I'm Crander," he told her with difficulty.
"Aeryn Sun," she said.
"Pleased to meet you - very pleased," he grinned.
The gully was damp and tangled. It was set to be a cold night. Despite the chill, eventually Aeryn dozed. A good arn later she was woken by Crander's cry of horror.
"It's getting inside . . ." he said, incoherently.
"What!?" She edged over to him. "Euch . . So that's what blood vines do."
The vines had found the pools of blood where Crander had first fallen, and were driving roots into the ground there. But more chillingly, tendrils were working their way inside his dressings. Aeryn wrenched them away with a shudder, then blasted the mother plant for good measure.
"That settles it then, we can't stay here. I say we climb clear of the gully." She gave him an encouraging smile. "Easier for pick-up too."
"Not sure I can move," he gasped.
"You have to. Look, I've got a stimulant shot here. Have you ever had to use one?"
"I - I've learned how."
"So have I. The theory. Are you willing to risk it? I can't carry you."
The shot took effect quickly and they began the scramble up the crumbling sides - working their way crabwise, searching for a gentler slope. Crander collapsed at the top, retching dryly. Aeryn began to drag him away from the edge.
"Come on you great lunk. I can't do this on my own."
Once there she rested gratefully against a stubby tree, nursing the burning pain in her ribs. The iron taste of blood was in her throat.
"What's taking so long?" his voice came hoarsely.
"Perhaps they are waiting until the exercise is over. My lot went after your lot. . ."
"They won't catch us," Crander showed his teeth in an attempt at a smile. He looked terrible. She gave him the last of her canteen.
"I wish they'd hurry."
"You'll be fine," she told him, although privately she doubted he could last much longer.
"They may be punishing us."
"Huh?"
"For working together."
"No. That's foolish. Why would they?"
"Well. I wish they'd hurry," Crander repeated, fully aware that their conversation was monitored.
After a time she said -"I'm going for water. Hang on - OK?"
Once more she worked painfully down the slope to the stream one last time.
The short night was over when the pick-up crew eventually pulled them out. Crander was still clinging stubbornly to life. All their lives they had seen their numbers reduced by incompetence, injury, failure to pass training, even, as on this occasion, by death. But they were survivors! In comradeship they clasped hands warmly. "I owe you, Aeryn," Crander said painfully. Aeryn merely grinned, eyes glittering.
· * * * *
·
Aeryn Sun had three cracked ribs and a fractured bone in her foot. In recognition of this, she did not have to report for her debriefing until the next solar day.
She stood to rigid attention before the Lieutenant overseeing Cadet training. "Your records show potential – great potential," he told her. "But your unwillingness to follow orders Pilot-Cadet Sun, mean that you will never fulfil that potential!"
"I thought as we were both out of it . . ."
"You thought . . ?" He did not actually say – and who gave you permission to think? – he didn't need to. It had been the constant refrain of her young life. "You were not out of it. You were capable of getting yourself and your enemy to safety. . . .
"He is one of us. . !"
Do NOT interrupt! Why did you not use that ability to rejoin your Unit?"
"I had been ordered to wait for pick-up. I had been designated non-com."
"Quite! You had been ordered!"
"But Sir – Crander would have died . . ."
"Enough! Compassion, Cadet, is a weakness. Banish it!"
She was bursting to dispute with him, but meekly she said, "Yes Sir." It was a struggle for Aeryn - learning the stillness that would eventually hide her natural ebullience. She braced her shoulders again – back to attention.
Taking a deep breath she met the Tutor's eyes. "But Sir. . ?" she hazarded.
"Well?"
"Is the enemy always to be killed? Is there not a value in a live prisoner?"
He leaned back in his chair. "Indeed there is - often. You consider Crander was your prisoner?"
"Well Sir, he was not going to make a break for it." Aeryn tried to suppress a smile, and failed – while the Lieutenant remained stony-faced. She tried to remind herself that this officer could bust her a long way back for this failure on this exercise.
"You are not a child, cadet. Treat exercises seriously. There may come a time when a PeaceKeeper really is your enemy."
"Sir?"
"Regrettably, even our ranks are not without renegades."
"Yes Sir."
And then, miraculously, the Lieutenant-Tutor himself showed compassion.
"Get yourself mobile within six days and you can rejoin your Unit. Otherwise you fall back, cadet."
"Sir! Thank you Sir!"
"Dismissed."
She turned, stumped out with the aid of her crutch, and heard the door close behind her. She slumped for a moment, then proudly drew herself straight again and made her way back to her bunk. There she let herself carefully down with a sigh. Must 'special' always mean she was wrong . . ? <Oh mother, why did you tell me?> she thought; then she laughed. She had survived another scrape. <I WILL make special commando - you WILL be proud of me.> She liked sometimes to imagine that her mother was high-ranking now, and able to watch her errant daughter's progress through the Cadet ranks.
"Six days," she said aloud. "Right . . !" and she hobbled off to the hydro-therapy unit.
Back in the office the Lieutenant-Tutor muttered to himself; "Flawed from birth."
"Sir?" his Sergeant said.
"No matter."
"Was that wise, Sir?" the Sergeant asked.
"You should see her simulator scores," he smiled.
