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Where Good Men Stand by Archangel_7
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Where Good Men Stand Chapter One: Ashes
Date: 25 July 2008, 8:38 am
Part One: Basic
Ashes
It didn't take Aleksander very long to interpret the situation. As Assistant Floor Manager, it was, in all practicality, his job to stay aware, keeping track of the various circumstances the store could throw his way. Even something as urgent as a fire could be lost to the blind eyes of the managers, so as the floor worker's only liaison to the upper management he needed to be observant and sharp.
His job was a necessary one, but to the corporation he was a completely expendable resource in light of any profit that could be made. Which was why when he found the envelope left casually on his desk he immediately drew a cardboard box from his cabinet and began filing his belongings inside.
After a minute of packing, Aleksander opened the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. "To Whom it May Concern," he read aloud. "As of March 19, 2549, we have deemed that Aleksander Y. Kovalenko's services are no longer required and have terminated his/her employment as of 12:59 PM on this day. Severance benefits can be redeemed at the management office. With regards, AllSMart management."
"No surprises there," he sighed. He continued raking in the last of his sparse possessions and trudged through the door of the office, flicking off the light as he passed.
Without speaking he turned and shuffled down the hall, to the receptionist desks. As he entered he could hear the clatter of keyboards and the warbling drone of the phones ringing nonstop. It occurred to him that this was only the second time he had been inside the room in as many years. Two years, and he had only spoken to the Head Manager's face once.
Two rows of counters lined the walls, with the door to the office directly across. Aleksander noted the sign reading "Benefits and Employee Services" in red above the counter to his left.
The benefits receptionist was a pretty thing: A pale face with full red lips framed by locks of dark brown hair. Her pale blue eyes looked up at him as he approached, and the edges of her lips quivered into a weak smile.
"Hi, how are you?" she said. Aleksander said nothing. Instead, he shuffled to her counter and dropped his box on top of a stack of papers.
"Mind if I put this here?" he said, glumly returning her smile.
"Not at all..."
"Good." He pulled the employment badge from his pocket and handed it across the desk. "My name is Aleksander Kovalenko. I'm here for my severance check."She took the badge from his hand and dropped it into an open drawer next to her.
"Just fill out these forms," she replied, bringing out several papers from the same drawer. Aleksander reached for a pen and began scratching away at the off-white surface.
"I'm sorry," the receptionist said after a minute of silence.
"Sorry for what?" Aleksander did not look up from the forms.
"I just wish there was something I could do, you know?" Her gaze fell down to her desk. "We're having so many people laid off recently, and even I don't know whether I'm going to be here, come tomorrow."
"It's not your fault."
"I know. It's no one's fault. We didn't ask for a war. We didn't ask for tax hiking. I've seen so many people coming into the office I can hardly keep track. The corporations treat us like we're nothing. I don't know. I just. . . I don't know what to say. It all makes me feel so helpless."
"Well, look on the bright side." Aleksander signed the final paper and handed the stack back to the receptionist. "From here the only way we can go is up."
She smiled again, taking the forms. "I hope you're right." She looked up at him with a nervous flicker in her eyes. "This might seem a little odd, but I was wondering. . . you know, if you were free tonight?"
Aleksander laughed. "I wish I was, but it's. . . it's my anniversary."
"That's," the receptionist breathed, "That's sweet. I didn't know you were married."
"I'm not. Not yet, anyway." Aleksander laughed, although he didn't feel much like laughing. "I was hoping, well, that tonight I could change that. But I don't think it would be very appropriate now."
"Well, I hope you have better luck in the future," she said as she handed him his severance check.
The moment was three years ago. A bright summer sun hung above the horizon, washing the landscape with a bright golden light. Aleksander hadn't seen any star compare to Sol since he had left Earth. Not until now. Waves of tall grass surrounded them, with green ripples cascading with the wind. The tree they huddled under shook gently, rustling the leaves.
"I told you it was beautiful," said a quiet, warm voice.
"Well, I guess you had to get something right eventually," Aleksander said. He felt Cassandra's fist ram into the meat of his shoulder. His usually stern expression cracked into a smile as he looked into her dark brown eyes.
"Oh, don't you get mad at me. You know it's true." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her lips scrunched up into a pout and her eyes narrowing. She continued to glare at him as he turned towards her. The cooling breeze suddenly picked up, blowing her hair into a caramel-colored flurry. He couldn't help but laugh as she gasped and tried to stifle her surprise.
He walked over and took her in his arms. The warmth of her body fought against the cool evening air. He could feel the goosebumps running along her bare arms. Her body pressed into his, and she looked up. A tingle of electricity ran down his spine. She smiled gently and closed her eyes. Aleksander closed his and held her tighter against him. For the first time, their lips connected. . .
It was dark by the time he pulled into the driveway. Cassandra's car was gone, although this didn't alarm him. She had said that she would be absent about this time. Aleksander pulled the lever to "Park" and pulled himself out of the car.
He slipped the keys into the doorknob and pushed his way inside, flicking on the kitchen lights as he passed through. He was setting his briefcase down by the phone when he noticed a small yellow note stuck to the wall beside it.
Call me on my cell - Cassandra
Puzzled, he set his coat on the counter and reached for the receiver. After lifting it to his ear, he dialed in her number and waited.
"Hello?" said a familiar voice.
"Cassandra?" he replied. He could hear a faint voice in the background. It wasn't hers. It wasn't a 'her' at all.
"Alex?" It struck him that there was a trace of surprise in her voice.
"If you weren't expecting me to call, why did you leave the note?"
"Oh." She paused. "Listen, Alex, there's something I need to talk to you about..."
"I think I know where this is going. Who is he?"
"What?" He had her cornered. "Listen," she sighed. "I don't know how to say this to you, but–"
"You don't have to." He felt a sharp sting in the pit of his stomach. A dreadful warmth crept up from his chest. "Dammit. God fucking dammit. How long have you been messing around on me? Who is it?"
"His name is Stephen," she said. Aleksander felt a wrenching in his gut. "We met two weeks ago."
"You can't be serious." Aleksander stroked his hair back.
"Listen Alex. I love you. You know that–"
"Bullshit."
"–It wasn't about love. I love you, but I can't see a future with you. You're smart, you're educated, but you've never done anything with it. You're going nowhere. And you could have gone places. But I can't raise a family with someone who works in a department store. I need something different."
"The only reason I worked there was because of you." A growl of anger scratched at the back of his throat. "We could have had a good life back on Earth. I was in line for a job at the engineering firm, but you wanted to move back to the colonies. You didn't like it there–"
"Listen, I didn't know there wouldn't be work out here, but that's not the point. We need something new. We need something to look forward to. We both need to move on. Stephen is a wonderful man, and he's so passionate about his work. He's running for DA. He knows where he's going in life. I'm so sorry. I know how much this must hurt. I'm sure you'll find someone better than me, someone who won't hurt you."
"Bullshit. All you're giving me is bullshit. All these years walking on eggshells to make this work, to make us work. All that time together, everything we've been through, and you just up and throw that all away? Did it mean anything to you?"
"I-I..." She was audibly sobbing now. The sound elicited no emotion in Aleksander. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry. I only wish there was some way you could know. You've given me so much. You've made me who I am today. You've made me stronger, and I love you for that. B-but I know you can't forgive me for this. You can't forgive me for something like this, even You deserve someone better than me."
"No." His voice grew colder. "No. Fuck you. You have no right to make that decision for me. Or any other decision. I took you up from that hellhole you lived in. I loved you. I gave you what you wanted. I worked my ass off to scratch out a living. But you throw it all away. Not only that, but you're not making any goddamned sense. You don't even know what you want."
"Alex, please–"
Aleksander pressed the end call key and slammed the phone down, sending it skittering across the tiled floor. A wave of nausea and anger overwhelmed him. Heat ran from his face. A jealous pang racked his insides. Before he could act he crumpled to the floor. "Fuck," was the last word he said before his ranting crumbled into incoherent sobs.
This was it. He was finally here. Aleksander had taken his valuables and put them into storage. Then, he had taken a torch to his house and watched it burn. There was nothing left for him there. Nothing to return to but ashes and memories.
Two flags stood to the sides of the recruitment officer. The familiar Darmusian flag, a four-pointed star emblazoned on a shield, meant nothing to him. It was the UNSC flag that caught his eye. His eyes wandered across it. The golden eagle seal, stamped on a royal blue background. Simple in appearance, yet representing something omnipresent, something utterly in control. Aleksander found the thought unappealing at best. But he knew that was exactly the kind of reality he was in for.
"I don't understand, Mr. Kovalenko," the officer started. "With your qualifications you could easily be part of an engineering division."
"No," he replied. "I want frontline duty. I know you aren't responsible for the decision, but do what you can"
"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Kovalenko, but between you and me, frontline duty isn't where you want to be, especially nowadays." The officer finished entering Aleksander's information into the computer and handed him an envelope. "That's it. All you need to do is report in for a physical, and if you pass you report to this bus stop. All the information you need is in this envelope."
"Great. Thanks for everything." He shook the man's hand and, taking the manilla envelope, stood up from his chair. Turning around, he took one last look at the UNSC flag before walking to the door.
The dull pang of hopelessness washed over him again. It was his fault that he was alone now. He couldn't see it any other way. He hated himself for leaving Earth. He hated himself for never amounting to anything. How could he not have seen it coming? All this time he had trusted himself, he had trusted his ability to foresee what was coming. But he hadn't seen this. Fortune had reduced him to nothing.
The only comfort he could take was knowing that chance was fair, if brutally so. It could change. All he could think to do now was throw the ashes to the wind and see where that chance took him.
Where Good Men Stand Chapter Two: Arrival
Date: 12 September 2008, 5:36 am
Arrival
Desperate times called for desperate measures, and committing to this was a desperate measure if he ever saw one. The bus engine started again as Aleksander took his seat. While he sat he looked at the man sitting next to him- the kid sitting next to him, rather. He couldn't have been older than eighteen, nineteen at the most. The first thing Aleksander noticed was the dome of short brown hair covering his head, spiked and evenly cut. From there a pale, freckled face led down to a spindly neck and equally spindly arms, both of which were draped over a bag presumably carrying his belongings.
The kid noticed Aleksander looking him over. "How's it going?"
"Terrible," Aleksander replied.
"Sorry to hear that," the kid said. "The name's Tim. Tim Rafferty."
"Aleksander Kovalenko," he responded. "You can call me Alex."
"Nice to meet you, man." Tim scratched the scraggly whiskers on his chin. "So, what brings someone like you to the service, anyway? You look a little old to have been, you know, scammed by a recruiter."
Aleksander smiled. "Let's just say there's not much left for me at home. What about you? You don't seem like the easily fooled type, either."
"I suppose you could say that," the kid said. "I was picked up by the draft. Hell, I tried hiding behind my own brother, but you can see how well that worked out. I kinda hoped that he'd be taking my place. Most people would say he was more qualified than I was. But they wouldn't take the bait. You wanna know why that bastard got away?"
"Why?"
"He's one of the few police officers out here with a squeaky-clean record. Never misses a date with the UNSC's Jurisdiction Officer, always snitches when there's something out of line. He plays the role of lap-dog pretty well, and the UN would rather have someone like him in charge of policing their citizens instead of someone who, you know, actually knows how things work out here."
"Well, I guess the UN has to keep the reins on us somehow."
"Yeah," Tim scoffed, "but at what cost?"
Aleksander didn't have an answer for that. He turned to check the small bag of his belongings laying on his lap and fished out a small candy bar. It would probably be his last for a good long time. He quietly tore open the wrapper and jammed it whole into his mouth, keeping an eye on the Staff Sergeant seated in front. He didn't know what to expect if the Sergeant turned around, but he decided it was best not to make a bad impression. Or any impression at all, for that matter.
The bus ride continued for a good hour without another word spoken between Aleksander and Tim. Other conversations were maintained at a low murmur. Comradery was something alien to most of them, and although social niceties were being exchanged Aleksander knew they did not care for one another. Most of them would probably sooner put the other in the path of a bullet to save themselves. The real question was, would that change by the end of the twelve weeks? Aleksander wanted to trust in the basic goodness of these men, but again he couldn't give a straight answer.
He propped his head against the cold vinyl of the seat in front of him and tried to sleep. The quiet drone of the bus' engine buzzing through his head made for a soothing backdrop, drowning out the haze of quiet voices.
His thoughts drifted to the nightmares of several long evenings ago. He considered himself a rational man, not inclined to fear the potential boogeymen lurking in his dreams. But these nightmares were different. Many nights since the day he set foot in the enlistment office he spent awake. Tossing and turning in the stale hotel linens, hearing gunshots and the cries of unknown men stirring about in his head. When he awoke every morning, he found himself sweating. Not because of some innate fear of the unknown, but because of the knowledge that these dreams could very soon become reality.
His fear grew, his doubts about the coming trials becoming clearer as he felt a sudden drop in the pit of his stomach. What kind of atrocities would these men be capable of, if pushed by unmitigated terror? Would the ties of brotherhood and discipline be strong enough to keep them from abandoning post and turning on each other like a pack of rabid dogs?
Aleksander had read about the daring exploits of men fighting and dying side by side on Harvest. He had seen their courage and comradery showcased on the evening news. But he had also read about the other face of war. The Free Press magazines were filled with the stories many of the bombastic media giants were afraid to tell: Marines turning tail and fleeing at the sight of unimaginable horrors; weapons that seared through armor and charred flesh from the bone; and even a lone madman who hijacked a freighter and left hundreds of men to die in return for his own unworthy salvation. At the other end of training awaited an enemy wholly unhuman, and that thought drove fear into his heart.
What horrors would await him, when he was on the other side of the camera lens? Aleksander did not wish to think about it. The fear still lingered, but he would do his best to ignore it. There would come a time when the gravity of his decision would overcome him, but it would not be now.
Slowly, he let his reality fade away. Inklings of conscious thought trickled away into blackness. He slipped into the deepest sleep in what felt like a lifetime.
His earliest memory of her was seeing her in the grocer's, picking a bag of peas from the frozen foods section. Aleksander couldn't remember much of what she looked like then, but he could recall that she wore a pastel-green hooded sweatshirt and not a lot of makeup.
As he strolled down the aisle he caught her eye. Both of them halted in mid-step, locking their gazes on one another. A few tense moments passed, then she smiled and turned away. After a moment's contemplation, Aleksander decided to follow her, catching her at the end of the aisle. She gave a start as she noticed him walking beside her. The cart in front of her jolted forward, nearly ramming into an older woman. A sour expression came across the woman's face as she gave a huff and continued on.
"Sorry!" she called to the old woman. She pulled her hand to her face, trying to hide the embarrassed smile that came across her.
Aleksander could see the nervous glimmer in her eyes as he offered his hand to her. "I'm Aleksander, by the way…"
The bus came to a halt, jolting Aleksander out of his dream. "Shit," he mumbled under his breath. His mouth was gummed with mucus and his eyes had trouble adjusting. It took him a moment to realize that the horrendously bright light flooding in was not sunlight. It was dark, and the bus was sitting under a low-hanging set of stadium lights, as though they had somehow anticipated that he and others would fall asleep. He knew it was a method meant to break him, but could this antagonism not wait?
"Recruits, on your feet!" the sergeant screamed. Disoriented, Aleksander pulled himself to his feet, his eyes still squinted, his mouth still gummy. The sergeant made his way down the middle aisle, his head swiveling like some bird of prey. After an apparently satisfactory survey, he walked to the front again and hopped down from the open sliding door.
"Alright, out of the bus! Let's get moving, people!"
One by one the men filed out of the bus. Although he was seated somewhere toward the middle, the line stretching out in front of him seemed almost insurmountable. As he slowly edged his way closer to the door, he could finally look out the window and see what was awaiting him on the outside.
Men were lined up by drill instructors in wide-brimmed covers, standing on the designated areas marked by yellow feet painted on the asphalt. One by one, row by row he watched the marks be covered, until at last Aleksander was at the head of the bus.
"Let's go, let's go!" the sergeant said, before giving him a less than subtle shove out of the door. His mind was still hazy from disorientation; his eyes were still pained by the harshness of the stadium lights. The night air was unusually cold. Before his mind could grasp the situation at hand, however, an instructor had placed a broad hand on his shoulder and led him to one of the pairs of painted footprints.
"Stand here," he said, "Heels together, back straight, chin up, fingers at the pant seams…" Aleksander hardly listened to the string of commands, but he followed them robotically, only half-conscious of his own movement.
When would he get over it? When would the horrible reeling in his head stop? It couldn't be long. If anything he should have already been over it by now. Would it never stop? He shuddered at the thought.
Another man in a wide-brimmed cover emerged from the building beside them. He gazed over them, inspecting the ten rows of men with eyes hidden behind a pair of dark aviator sunglasses. The jowls of his cheeks sagged, wobbling as he turned his head.
"Congratulations on your decision to become a United Nations Space Command Marine!" His voice boomed across the lot, echoing from the red brick wall beside him. "It is a choice you should not regret! That is because you are first up to become members of the finest fighting force in the galaxy!" As the instructor walked by his row, Aleksander could see a fine wooden toothpick hanging from the man's lips. It jostled with every word the man spoke, writhing in time with his words.
"I am Staff Sergeant Mitchells. From now on, you will refer to me by rank, if you find the need to refer to me. Otherwise, from this moment the first and last words out of your mouth will always be 'sir.' Do I make myself clear?"
Aleksander joined in a chorus of voices saying "Sir, yes, sir!"
"Now, first things first: From now on, you will not refer to yourselves as 'I' or 'me.' You will refer to yourself as 'this recruit.' You will refer to others as 'that recruit' or 'those recruits.' And most importantly, you will always refer to your superiors by rank or by 'Sir,' 'Ma'am,' or in third person as 'the Drill Instructor.' Do you understand?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"I can't hear you. Louder!"
Aleksander screamed at the top of his lungs. "Sir, yes, sir!"
"Alright! Now we're going to move you recruits through Receiving." Aleksander's eyes followed Mitchells as he made his way to the front of the formation. "You will have fifteen seconds to form two single file lines in front of the two doors around the corner here. When I begin counting, you begin moving!"
Mitchells moved to the side, leaning against the red brick wall. "Fifteen! Fourteen! Thirteen!"
Aleksander and the other men suddenly broke formation. They ran like a herd of wild buffalo for the doors. It was run or face unknown consequences. Follow the herd or be trampled. Aleksander could foresee that very mindset being prevalent in this place. Perhaps that was why he was surprised to find himself running without the realization he was doing so. Was it the tired delirium caused by his abrupt awakening? Or was he weaker than he anticipated? Ten minutes in and he was already submissive, beaten down by the power of the hive mind.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!" The last few men scrambled to find their places in the pecking order. "Five! Four!" Aleksander shoved his way into the line. "Three! Two! One!"
Mitchells looked up from his place on top of the steps in front of them. A satisfied smirk crept onto his face. "Good. Now you are going to enter the Receiving building and make your final phone calls home. You will enter these doors and make your way to the desk. Once you make it there you will turn left, and enter the door. Do you understand?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"Alright! Now get in there! Get in there!"
The line started to move, and Aleksander was pushed from behind, up to the door. Why was he resisting? In the end, it was his decision to be here. Here, at the point of no return. The fear crept up on him again, nagging at his insides, but he knew he had no choice but to continue. He bought the ticket, he rolled the dice, and now there was nothing to do but take the ride.
He took a small, breathless moment for himself and stepped through the doorway.
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