Short Story about "Normal" People/Family Life in the Imperium. A tribute to the brave Astra Militarum winning a campaign against the Nids in 3rd Edition!
<Stellar System: Rachel's Solace (M Class)
Planet: RS-2 Warm Sub-Terran
Administorum Designation: Mining World/>
<City Search__Alegra X0/>
<Subject File: Almon Jencture/>
<Subject Reference, Family Structure/Sub-Reference/Refugee/Sub-Reference Astra Militarum Recruitment>
<File Upload...Part 1/>
The dim red sun hung just above the horizon, casting the port city of Alegra X0 in a perpetual dim twilight. As RS-2 was tidally locked to its star, the sun never moved. There was no morning, no afternoon, evening or night time. Only twilight.
And so the residents of Alegra organized their lives around the
PA loudspeakers that hung from each street, from the warehouses of the port, to the shops that lined the downtown area, and all the way to the rockcrete standard homes that comprised the residential district.
There were no need for clocks or watches here. For if there was any important change in the day, like the start of a work shift, the end of a work shift, or the start of evening curfew, one could be sure that it would be announced by an Administrator through the loudpeakers.
A loud chiming noise filled the air as one such Administrator prepared to speak across the city's
PA system. "Dockside Shift 2 Ending." The
PA blared out only to be followed by another chiming noise.
For Almon Jencture and the other dock workers, this simple announcement signaled the end of another brutal 10 hour shift, shovleing burn rock from barges onto rail cars.
On other worlds, this sort of simple laboor was performed by servitors, but the people of RS-2 did not know such luxuries. Whether it was mining the burn rock from the nothern mines, transporting it over the saline sea by ship, unloading it from the docks, shipping it to the promethium refineries by rail, and then onto the starport to send the precious promethium off world, the entirety of the labor performed on RS-2 was done by plain, un-augmented humans. It was a fact which the residents were proud of.
A few of his colleagues, nodded when they saw him get onboard the bus, but said nothing. No one on the bus did.
<File Upload...Part 2/>
Around 20 minutes later, Almon arrived at his low density neighborhood in the residential district of the city. After getting off the bus, he started walking quickly
down a cobblestone side street toward his small single family home. Outside his home, a group of youth were playing football (soccer) in the street. Almon offered up a small grin as one such youth approached him. “Hi Dad. Bus got back late again didn’t it?” The lad was no more than 14 years of age, was thin and wiry, his skin pale like his mother, and virtually indistinguishable from the other “natives” of RS-2, even though his father hailed from a neighboring stellar system.
“Aye Danner, it took a little longer tonight.” Almon replied. He thought about that word tonight. On a world that didn’t have night or day the word was meaningless and so it was often used with sarcasm or as a joke. But for Almon it wasn’t so much a joke as an old habit. Old habits die hard he thought. “And how was school?”
Danner shrugged. “It was alright I suppose. Say, want to watch me and my mates play football? I reckon I’ll score a few points before Mom calls us in for supper.”
Almon nodded. “Alright, I’ll watch from the front porch. Get back to your game then…and score some points for your old man.”
Almon walked up to the front step of his porch and leaned back against the hard concrete as Danner rejoined the game.
He felt tired and closed his eyes. Almost immediately he was back on Saint John’s as a child, watching helplessly as his father pushed him hard into the last evacuation shuttle. Then the feeling of getting pushed into his seat as the shuttle rocketed upwards even while a massive horde of thyranid monstrosities devoured the panicked crowd below…his parents included.
Almon jolted awake once more as he heard the door open behind him, his mind and body in utter, terror, half expecting a ripper swarm to come bursting out of his home and sinking mouths of sharp teeth into his flesh.
Instead, it was only his wife Isabel who came to sit down next to him on that hard slab of concrete.
“Nodding off again?” She asked with a half smirk on her face.
Almon nodded. “Just watching the boy play. But yes, I’m as tired as ever. Anything come in the mail today?”
Isabel reached over and presented Almon with an already opened envelope bearing the insignia of the Refiner’s Guild and addressed to his eldest child and daughter, Raquel.
Almon’s eyes widened as he grabbed the envelope to quickly pour over the contents of the letter. Soon his face cracked open into a wide grin and he reached over to give his wife a heartfelt hug with both arms. “She got in, thank the Emperor she got in.”
Isabel nodded and smiled, returning the hug and giving Almon a pat on the back before releasing him.
Soon her smile began to fade. “An apprenticeship with the most powerful guild in the region. She worked hard at school for this Almon. This is her dream. But how can we afford the entrance fees?”
Almon’s face quickly sobered.
“We’ve talked about this. You know how we’re going to pay for it. But I’m not going to force him. It’ll be his choice. I’ll take him down to the neighborhood pub tomorrow night and then when we return, you’ll know.”
<File Upload...Part 3/>
The pub was a small one room, “hole in the wall” sort of place a few blocks down from where Almon and his family lived. The bar itself was made of sturdy plasteel as were the tables that looked out toward the street. The lights were dim, matching the perpetual twilight of this region of RS-2. A vox caster played a sad mellow jazz like tune in the background.
Almon and his eldest son, Triskel, walked into the pub and took a seat. It was still early enough in evening shift that there were only a couple other locals. Almon raised a hand to order a drink, “Two half pints of synth beer.” When the glasses were full, Triskel chimed in, somewhat confused. “I thought you didn’t drink?”
Almon nodded. “Not usually, but this is a special occasion. Your sister has been offered an apprenticeship with the refiner’s guild.”
“Well, that’s great news. I’ll drink to that.” Triskel raised the glass to his lips and took a swig before putting it down, but then frowned. “But wait a minute, why are we here celebrating without her?”
Almon looked down and lowered his voice son that no one else could hear. “Tell me son, you’re on the verge of man hood yourself now. Given any thoughts to signing up for the Astra Militarum?”
Triskel looked thoroughly confused, convinced his father was up to something. “Not really. I mean, I’m not a coward. I’d do my part for the PDF if we got invaded again, like what happened when the orks came, but I’m not exactly looking for a war. Besides, I thought you said you didn’t want me to join?”
Almon pursed his lips, a sad look on his face. “It’s true. Our people have made enough sacrifices. My parents gave their lives so I could escape the Hive Fleet Leviathon, the Saint John’s PDF sacrificed themselves to damage that hive ship and crash it onto the surface so I could escape here, and build a life with your mother, and then once I got here, I sacrificed myself on this place digging trenches to keep the orks hemmed into the rad zone when they invaded. I’ve paid enough in blood. And now I want my children to live in peace. That’s why I didn’t want you to join.”
He paused.
“But that was before your sister got that offer. This is a big deal for her and the entire family. The trouble is…I’m a dock worker. I could work a million years and never have the money to pay for it.”
Triskel snapped his fingers while shaking his head, letting his beer sit idly. “Unless you get the signing bonus from me volunteering to fight the Emperor’s wars, that’s rich.” He sounded a little annoyed.
Almon looked Triskel in the eye, giving his son a deep stare from a hardened face. “Yes that’s exactly what I had planned. And it’s the right thing to do for the family. Come on, what are your marks in school? Where are you headed right now?
Probably breaking your back in the dockyards like I’ve been…or digging trenches in the Rad zone if we got invaded again, like I did.” He sighed. “I don’t want that life for you son.” There will be risks to signing up I’m sure. But think it through. RS-2 has never fielded a full Astra Militarum Regiment. It’s going to take them a while to get it organized. With any luck, long enough for your sister to get in good with the Guilders, and make enough credit to buy you discharge before your first deployment.”
Triskel shook his head. “Buy a discharge? You mean a bribe? No I won’t be doing that. If I join up, no tricks, no schemes. I’ll do it the right way, and make the family proud. I’ll do it so all of you, Raquel and Danner, Mom, even you, can live in peace, if the Emperor wills it.”
Almon nodded his head proudly. “Now you’re sounding like a real man. So you’ll do it then?”
Triskel finished the drink and nodded. “Aye, it seems that my fate is sealed. The only thing left to do is to proceed honorably.”
Almon patted his son on the back. “Just remember, you don’t have to go in search of martyrdom. The Astra Militarum is a system. You can work that system to advance yourself and serve the Emperor at the same time. There’s nothing dishonorable about a little self interest.”
Triskel rolled his eyes. “I’ll try to remember that.” He walked toward the door. “We better get home, supper will almost be ready.”
Almon smiled. “Aye, we better head home and tell your mother the big news. Tonight, you and your sister are headed for adulthood. You both have made me a proud man.”
<End File> <Analyze Psychological Inducement to Meet Recruitment Quota/>
