In what fucking world does a pack of Luckies cost FORTY fucking dollars?!
Sato stared in disbelief at the battered vending machine before him, a neon red ‘INSUFFICIENT CREDIT’ smothering the electronic display. Frankly, it was a miracle it still worked, given the numerous basketball-sized dents cratering it.
Thunder erupted from behind Sato, causing him to jump out of his skin. Frozen in fear, he slowly swivelled to face the source.
A gargantuan mass of muscle and sinew approached Sato, silhouetted against the ceiling light. The thunder subsided into what could be considered laughter. It squinted at him.
The being opened its mouth.
“FRESH MEAT? FROM ANCHORPOINT? YUM YUM.” it boomed.
The sheer air pressure generated by the deafening voice forced Sato onto the floor. Sato raised his arms in a futile attempt to shield himself.
“p-please don’t h-hurt m-m-me.” He whimpered.
“BAD GOLIATH! BAD! DON’T SCARE THE TRANSFERS!” A familiar voice entered the room, a beacon of hope for the terrified Sato.
“Arata? Arata, is that you?! Holy shit, welcome to the fucking Almayer you sexy beast!”
Stanley’s shit-eating expression was a relief. He offered his hand.
Stanley groaned as he unsteadily pulled a shaken Sato onto his feet.
“Hah- Sorry about Goliath-“ he said, waving dismissively at the wall of the flesh.
“It’s just his sense of humor, you know? He’s actually one of the friendliest marines on the ship, really!” he said apologetically.
His attention drifted to Goliath, taking on an authoritative tone- As if to a child. “Goliath, apologize.”
Goliath looked abashed, fiddling with his hands.
”ME… ME SORRY.” Goliath squinted, struggling to read Sato’s ID. “PRIVATE… PRIVATE ARA…TA…SA…TO? ME SORRY PRIVATE ARATA SATO.” said Goliath apologetically.
“i-uh… it- it’s okay, goliath. errr… friends?” squeaked out Sato.
Sato reached out his hand. Goliath offered two fingers in return, careful not to crush him. He beamed as they shook.
”FRIENDS.”
Stanley grinned like a proud father. He turned his attention back to Sato.
“So er- what’re you doing here at the ci- Ohhh. You got nico-cucked.”
“Nico-cucked?”
“Ehh… how do I put it? It’s when you wake up from cyro only to find the cigarette prices have inflated, so whatever’s in your account doesn’t cut it anymore. Happens like… every few ops. Everyone gets nico-cucked at some point. It’s tradition, really.” Stanley shrugged.
Sato sighed dejectedly. “Okay, I guess I’ll go fuck myself and jump into ASRS, then.”
Stanley interjected Sato.
“Chill, dude. Chill. This is why we have Goliath, man.” Stanley bowed and waved, as if presenting a theatrical act. “Goliath?”
Goliath clenched his fists.
“Wait, wha-“
BANG! Goliath grunted as he right-hooked the cigarette vendor, knocking it on it’s side. He bent over his victim as he began the process of mercilessly eradicating any hope it could be repaired by the engineering department.
BANG!“ERROR-“ BANG! “PLE-“ BANG! “ONTACT-“ BANG! “YOU-“ BANG! “EST WEY-“ BANG! “ECHNICIA” BANG! “DIATE-“ BANG!
Goliath grinned as the shattered vendor fell silent with a shower of sparks and sputters, satisfied with his obliteration of yet another multi-thousand dollar device aboard the Almayer.
Sato stood in shocked silence and awe as Stanley dusted off an intact Lucky Strikes packet from the wreckage and slipped it into Sato’s pocket. “Need a light?” he asked, offering a blowtorch.
“E-Er… thanks.”
“Anytime.”
Sato inhaled deeply. The acrid and bitter yet comforting taste of nicotine filled Sato’s mouth. He blew the smoke through his nostrils. For the first time since he left cyro, he felt like he wasn’t an aching sack of shit.
“And uh- thank you, Goliath.” Sato bowed. Goliath’s grin widened into a smile, happy to contribute to the decrease in his new friend’s life expectancy.
“Alright, let’s get a move on to medbay, synth should be just about done with the unga- Can’t let those fucking deltards eat everything.” quipped Stanley, waving on Goliath to join them.
The hallways of the Almayer were polar opposites of Anchorpoint. Lights so dim and sparse they barely illuminated the floor. The constant smell of sweat and motor oil. The suspiciously sticky floors. If he weren’t assigned to the Almayer, he would’ve assumed it was in the process of being decommissioned in Luna.
“She’s a piece of shit rust bucket with a dumbfuck AI that barely flies, but eh. She’s home.” Stanley shrugged in response to Sato’s judgemental scan.
“You ever miss Anchorpoint, Private Stanley?”
“Hah! It’s been years since Anchorpoint for me, but fuck. I’d give half my testicles for a working shower that isn’t covered in glowshrooms. Also, it’s Lance-Corporal Stanley to you now.” Stanley flashed his tags and tapped his technician helmet.
“Seriously? They made you an engineer, of all people? The Private Stanley who dropped an active HEDP at his feet in training? The same guy who drank potential bioweapons in W-Y black-sites? Who stabbed me with two emergency injectors every second op? THAT Private Stanley?”
Stanley gave his signature shit-eating grin.
“Careful now Arata, technically I’m your superior now. You’ve just committed DASO.” Stanley smirked. “Anyways, we’re here. Welcome to medbay, Private First-Class Arata Sato.”
The well-lit interior of medbay shone through the airlock’s glass panes, creating an island of light on the floor of the dim corridor. Figures bustled inside excitedly.
Goliath sniffed the air, letting out a satisfied sigh. ”UNGA BUNGA. ME SMELL UNGA.“
“Woah, watch it-!” quipped Sato, as Goliath pushed past him.
Determined, Goliath stomped forwards, crushing the airlock’s electronics and forcing it open in a split second. Stanley flipped on his welding visor.
The bright glow of Medbay’s lights were unleashed in an assault on Sato’s eyes. Stanley shot Sato yet another shit-eating smirk.
“FUCK! Jesus Christ, my retinas!” Sato groaned.
“Hey, at least you’re in the right place for eye damage.” Stanley shrugged.
A collection of marines and medical staff briefly paused and turned their heads in response to the disembowelment of the airlock, before losing all interest upon seeing Goliath.
“I guess… everyone’s used to him? Is Goliath even his real name?” Sato inquired Stanley.
“Huh? Oh yea, everyone knows him. Leaves a trail of destruction everywhere he goes, can’t miss him, really. We’re all just kind of used to it. Well, except the CE. But even then, Goliath is basically providing job security to all the MTs, so they can’t really complain.” He pauses for a moment.
“As for the name- I don’t think anyone outside of CIC knows, since he broke his ID the instant they gave him one. I don’t think even he knows his own name. So uh, he’s just Goliath.”
The pale, blonde woman manning the chemline frowns. Thin and barely shoulder-height, she adjusts her red beret. She sighs. “PFC ‘Goliath’, this is the 476th time we’ve had this conversation. Damaging the medbay’s airlocks represents a significant breach in safety protocols to everyone onboard. The risk of electrical burns and its compromised effectiveness in the event of a hull breach is not a joke.” Her tone was scolding, yet… perfect? It was devoid of any of the exasperation typically associated with the 476th occurrence of anything.
Goliath filtered out the woman’s berating, eyes laser focused on the unga before him.
“God bless you, Henrietta! My favourite meal, shit-coloured unga. You never cease to amaze me with your cooking.”, cried Stanley, giving her a wink as he unfastened his flask from his helmet.
Henrietta looked back from the Chemmaster 2000 and beamed back a perfect smile, whilst slotting a pill bottle into the Smart Fridge TM.
“Hey, how come Goliath isn’t taking any unga?” asked Sato.
“Oh, Goliath? Well, I don’t think he actually has the err… wrinkles to use it, if you catch my drift. He just likes lugging the tank around for us, since it makes us happy. And if the marines are happy, he’s happy.” Stanley takes a moment to think. “Plus, well, he’s also useful for-”
”PLABBERS IN THE HOUSE TONIGHT BABY! OOORAAAHHH! WE SIMPLY CAN’T STOP FUCKING WINNING!!!”
Stanley rolled their eyes at the unwelcome guest.
“OORAH!” “GET SOME! GET SOME! YEAH!!!” “OORAH!” “OORAH!” “ONE TWO THREE FOUR I FUCKING LOVE THE MARINE CORPS!”
Henrietta stared at the shrieking creature with displeasure as it unveiled an unreasonably large pouch stuffed with flasks.
“UNGA? AW YEA BABY, WE’RE SO BACK.” “DELTA’S DOPE, CHARLOIDS COPE!”
“Uh oh. Stay still, don’t do anything.” Stanley whispered.
As the creature reached the unga tank. Goliath moved to intercept, blocking it’s path.
“DOOR STUCK! DOOR STUCK! WHAT THE FUCK’RE YOU DOING?! LEMME FILL UP ON UNGA! MOVE OUTTA THE WAY, RETAR-”
In a single effortless motion, Goliath crushed the creature into the floor like a hydraulic press before they could finish their sentence. Sato flinched as sickening cracks pierced the air. Their neck and limbs twisted at grotesque angles, blood pooling around the motionless figure.
Stanley coughed. “plus, uh, he’s also useful for… that.” Croaked Stanley.
Henrietta scanned the corpse, before giving out an audible sigh.
The onlookers shifted from petrified silence to scattered applause and whoops.
“Yeah, you go Goliath!” “Goliath taking the Ls from HC so we don’t have to. God’s work.”
“Fucking unga-sluts, serves them right!”
Goliath bathed in the adoration of the marines as they lined up single-file for their fair share of the life-sustaining elixir.
Henrietta spoke into their headset. She stared emotionless at the blood coating the floor, before flicking her eyes to Goliath. It was almost comical how tiny she was compared to his colossal size.
“PFC ‘Goliath’. I must remind you that assaulting your colleagues in any way, shape or form is a serious violation of Marine Law, and carries severe consequences. Killing a fellow marine represents a significant decrease in the platoon’s combat effectiveness as well as your own survivability. No matter how… eccentric they may be.”
Her eyes darted back to the blood-stained floor.
“Not to mention the unique slipping hazard you’ve created in the highest-traffic region of the Almayer.”, she remarked as an after-thought.
Goliath stared and smiled blankly.
”GOLIATH SAVE UNGA. MAKE MARINE HAPPY. GOLIATH HAPPY. GOODBYE.”
Exactly on cue, Goliath went limp, collapsing face first into the steel floor with a resounding thud. Stanley saluted, the other marines following suite.
“Godspeed, you beautiful fucking bastard. See you in 6 months.”
Sato wasn’t really sure what had just happened, but he was just happy he wasn’t involved.
Henrietta sighed, as if exasperated.
SSHHHHHRRRRRRRKKKK!
A whistle shrieked as an army of redcoats marched into medbay in formation, the CMP leading the pack. Henrietta flashed a smile. The marines did not.
Seeing the absolute carnage in medbay, the CMP raised a closed fist and stopped, his army following soon after. Despite their stony expression, Sato swore the CMP was smiling to himself- and it was getting ever so wider as the CMP detected more crimes to bully the marines with.
Henrietta saluted enthusiastically from the chemline. No one else followed. Every marine subconsciously had their hands on their firearms, standing in formation- blocking the redcoat advance.
The CMP locked eyes with Stanley. The CMP dramatically pulled out a premium cigar and flicked out a lighter that must’ve cost an entire month of Sato’s wages.
“Well, well, well. Look who it is. Private fucking Stanley.” The CMP chuckled. He took an excruciatingly long puff from his cigar.
Stanley looked pale. “It’s L-Lance Corporal Stanley n-now, Sergeant.”, Stanley choked out.
The CMP took a step forward, before blowing smoke into Stanley’s face.
“Heh… Sergeant. Has it really been that long since our adventures together, Private?” He grinned from ear to ear in an unsettling departure from his standard blank expression. “246.2 hours of brig time… That’s how much you’ve earned me all these years. I must say, I’m grateful for your contribution to my… ascension in the hierarchy.”
Stanley was sweating. “I’m not the n-naïve little newbie you can push around anymore, sir. I know my Marine Law. Y-you lay one false charge on me, and I’ll have HC grab you by the b-balls.”
The CMP’s eyes narrowed like a snake on Stanley, who refused to budge. He growled in frustration. Stanley breathed a sigh of relief as the CMP began scanning others.
Sato gulped. The CMP was laser focused on his PVT tag. He began to slowly walk towards him menacingly, savouring the fear every step generated in his victims.
SHHHRRRRRRKKKKK!
A second whistle blew.
“ATTENTION! MAJOR AABERG ON DECK!” screamed a redcoat.
The CMP’s oppressive demeanour vanished, betraying a look of panic before stepping back and assuming position, ready to salute. He gave one last glance at Sato, as if to say “This isn’t over.”
The redcoats began to disperse from the centre of the hall, forming up at the walls. The Major stepped through as if he were parting the Red Sea, redcoats saluting as he passed. Dressed in pure white and gold, the marines saluted and shouted inspiring cries for their messiah. Henrietta saluted, the Major reciprocating with an approving nod and smile. The marines began swarming around the Major. Henrietta frowned.
“Major, major, sign my autograph!” “JAKOB AABERG I’M YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN!!!” “Yeah, put those redcoat commies in their place!” “MAJOR AABERG I WANT TO BEAR YOUR CHILDREN PLEASE MARRY ME” “The op is saved!” Sato spotted a marine who was just reciting Psalms 91 over and over. The major was trying to calm everyone down to no avail.
“Uh… Stanley, who is this guy? I’ve never seen him before.”
“I-Uh, what? Oh, right. You’ve never heard Aaberg before, right Arata?”
“Hear? Not see?” Sato asked quizzically. Stanley didn’t reply, he only smirked.
The crowd had grown increasingly dense to the point the Major was struggling to move. With every second, the CMP grew visibly saltier, staring at the undulating mass of marines with contempt at the fun they were having. He clenched his fist on a flash bang.
Suddenly, an electronic screeching sound assaulted Sato’s ears, like nails on a chalkboard. Instinctively, everyone fell silent and turned to face the source of the eldritch noise.
Henrietta stood on top of the defibrillator table, megaphone in hand. Content with the attention, she spoke.
”Attention. The density of the crowd in medbay has reached dangerous levels. If you all continue to swarm the Major, I calculate a 78.6% probability of severe injuries or death due to a likely crowd crush. For everyone’s health and safety, I would like to remind everyone to keep a respectful distance from one another in accordance with USCM Regulation 2773 Subsection C-A. Thank you for your attention.”
“You heard the synth. Everyone get the fuck out and get to Hangar for briefing.” jeered the CMP. He waved the flash bang in the air with a smug look on his face, happy to finally break up the mass of ungas.
The CO nodded and waved the marines out with his cane.
The CO adjusted his beret and uniform, before surveying the now mostly-empty room.
Stanley grabbed Sato’s shoulder.
“Alright, party’s over. We gotta go. Now.”, Stanley whispered urgently.
“What? Why?”
The Major’s eyes twinkled upon spotting Sato’s tags. He began slowly walking towards them.
Stanley clenched his teeth. “Arata, shut the fuck up and let’s GO. Before he reaches us. If we let him start, he’ll never stop.”
“But- we can’t just-“
The Major was now right in front of them.
“Oh for- Look what you d- MAJOR AABERG, SIR! IT’S A PLEASURE TO SERVE YOU, SIR!” Stanley quickly straightened his back and saluted. Sato wondered if this was really the same person.
Stanley nudged Sato. Sato quickly saluted, copying Stanley.
“At ease, men. No need to be so formal here, I just want to have a chat with our ah… beloved new addition to the ship. Private… Sato? Empire, right?”
“Er- Well, yeah- My father’s side is from the TWE, but my mother and I were born in the UA, sir.”
“Ah. The Empire.” The Major’s eyes began to gaze off into the distance as he began to wind back time. “I remember my first deployment to Japan. Started off as a regular grunt, you know. 29th division, training with the Royal Marines in Okinawa. It was the end of the season, cherry blossoms falling all over the AO- I could feel the herbaceous breeze like it was ye-“
Stanley quickly interjected. “S-Sir, don’t worry- I’ve already recited your erm, highly educational oral experiences to Sato before he got here! I um, I wouldn’t want to waste any of your precious time, after all! I’m su-“
“It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re talking, Lance Corporal.” Major Aaberg curtly replied.
Stanley stammered incoherently. “We-W-I, I-I-“
“However, I appreciate the effort. Imparting the collected experiences of someone who’s lived a life as rich and detailed as mine to a PFC is no easy feat. It’s a beautiful gift, knowledge. It’s our duty to our species to pass down our lessons to the next generation, such that they may learn from our achievements.
Speaking of the next generation… Private Sato. Good grief, where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself. Major Aaberg, acting CO of the USS Almayer and by extension, the Falling Falcons. I make it a point of pride to personally greet every new member of our little family. I trust Lance Corporal Stanley has been a good tour guide?”
Stanley casted a pleading look with his eyes.
“Erm- Of course sir! Him and I, we uh- We go way back! We were bunk mates when we were both stationed at Anchorpoint. He’s er- he’s been very informative, sir.” Sato’s mind raced, desperate to avoid another Aaberg monologue.
“Excellent, excellent… and how’re you adjusting to life aboard the Almayer? She’s no Anchorpoint to be sure, but I think she has her charms, wouldn’t you say?”
Sato paused, unsure of how to describe the grimy, chaotic nature of the ship without insulting it in front of it’s commanding officer.
“It’s… it’s certainly a unique ship, sir. Definitely one of the uh, most memorable ones I’ve served on, to be sure.”
Aaberg beamed, as if Sato had just delivered the highest praise imaginable.
“Unique! Hah, you’ve got a good eye for ships, I can feel it. You know, the Almayer reminds me of my first command. The USS São Paulo. A real rust bucket, but she had heart. It was there I learned the value of camaraderie, discipline, and—”
“Henrietta!” Stanley suddenly interrupted, his voice artificially cheerful as he pointed toward the chemline. “Sir, I was actually just about to introduce Sato here to Henrietta! You know, give him the whole safety orientation thing so the err… uniqueness of the ship doesn’t hurt him, and all that.”
Aaberg’s eyes lit up. “A wonderful suggestion, Lance Corporal! Safety is paramount, especially onboard a vessel commanded by one such as myself- Of course, it’s not all me. I dare say, we probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Henrietta. Chemistry is this way, Private.”
Sato shot Stanley a look that could’ve melted steel. Stanley just grinned sheepishly and gave a barely perceptible shrug, mouthing Trust me.
“Major Aaberg, gentlemen,” she greeted them with a polite smile that seemed so flawless it could have been trademarked. “How can I assist you?”
“Henrietta,” Aaberg began with the tone of someone introducing a celebrity at a gala, “allow me to present Private First-Class Arata Sato, our newest addition to the ship. He’s fresh from Anchorpoint, so I thought it only fitting that he meet you- Especially with all your past colonial experience, of course.”
Henrietta nodded, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Sato with unsettling precision. “Welcome to the USS Almayer, Private Sato. I trust you’ve been briefed on the importance of adhering to USCM regulations and workplace safety guidelines?”
Sato opened his mouth to respond, but she raised a finger as if silencing him before he could say something regrettable. “Before you answer, allow me to clarify: safety is not merely a suggestion. It is the foundation upon which this ship operates. Without safety, there is only disorder. For instance, did you know that improperly secured combat boots are the third leading cause of hallway accidents among marines?”
“Uh… no, ma’am. I didn’t,” Sato replied, bewildered.
“Well, now you do,” she said matter-of-factly. “I would highly recommend double-knotting your laces. And while we’re on the subject of safety, I couldn’t help but notice your posture is slightly misaligned. Have you considered ergonomic stretching routines?”
Sato blinked. “Er… no?”
Henrietta smiled, somehow managing to make the expression both encouraging and terrifying. “I will upload a recommended regimen to your datapad. Please perform the exercises twice daily until the end of your service. I’ll book you in for a physical examination with me on a weekly basis. You’ll thank me when you avoid lower back pain at 30, Private.”
Stanley was desperately attempting to suppress his laughter behind Sato. “Oh man, you’re fucked now. Once she locks onto you, she’ll be in your bathroom to make sure you floss and take a shit after every meal.”
“Lance Corporal Stanley,” Henrietta said without turning her head, “I appreciate your attempts at humour, but I must remind you that your recent record shows a troubling disregard for regulations. For example, the twenty-seven unauthorised modifications to your welding gear.”
Stanley paled. “W-what? Mods? What mods? I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Henrietta.”
She produced a datapad seemingly out of thin air. “I have documented evidence, including your own voice recordings, in which you explicitly refer to your blowtorch as ‘the Stanley Special, now with 90% more plasma discharge.’, as well as unsuccessful attempts to market your so-called ‘product’ to the QM and CE.”
Sato stifled a laugh as Stanley floundered. “Okay, listen. That’s… that’s just banter! You can’t use banter against me, Henrietta!”
Henrietta raised an eyebrow as if she were an executioner raising an axe. “I can, and I will. Marine Law is not a joke, Lance Corporal, and neither is the safety of others.”
Before Stanley could dig himself deeper, Major Aaberg clapped his hands together, clearly eager to shift the focus. “Alright, team, enough shop talk! Henrietta, why don’t you tell Private Sato a bit more about your role here? I’m sure he’ll find it absolutely fascinating.”
Stanley gave a thankful glance to the Major, who responded with a “I’m not angry, just disappointed” look.
Henrietta straightened, her smile dialled up another 10%. “As a former Colonial OSHA Inspector impressed into service with the USS Almayer, my duties include-“
Sato zoned out almost immediately as Henrietta launched into what felt like a pre-programmed dissertation on workplace safety protocols, complete with a five-step plan for optimising medbay efficiency and a brief tangent about the importance of proper helmet padding.
Stanley leaned over and whispered, “It’s like this every time. One day, I’m gonna drop a G2 into her repair bay, just to see if she skips a beat.”
Henrietta’s voice suddenly cut out mid-sentence. She turned to Stanley, her smile unwavering but her eyes filled with quiet menace. “I heard that.”
Stanley froze. “Oh, come on! You don’t even have ears!”
Henrietta tapped her datapad, and a small holographic diagram of an audio receiver appeared above it. “Correction: I do. Would you like to review the specifications?”
Stanley waved his hands defensively. “Nope! I’m good! Totally good!”
Satisfied, Henrietta returned her attention to Sato, who was beginning to regret every decision he’d made since waking up.
I REALLY should’ve just stayed on Anchorpoint…
