Nova's Yaara Page 4
It takes a few days for everything to be arranged. During that time I spend every available moment with the mob. Of course the other three still have their rotations, so I mostly see them after work, but Jorn and I are free as butterflies and take the opportunity to visit the various art clubs; guess who suggested that idea… Any member on Nova who wants to specialize in any of the arts rather than sciences, has the option to choose a permanent field that doesn't require extensive internship, usually because most of the work is computerized and done by machines. Their work cycles are much shorter, at the end of which they can dedicate their time to their preferred field. We start with poetry, and although Jorn, always the romantic, enjoys it, I quickly get so bored that I can no longer hide my yawns. I drag him with me to my Martial Arts training hall, but following Jorn’s sighs and gripes, we return to our pod. The cinematic club to which Jorn is obviously addicted, is the only one we can agree on, and the following morning we head there to watch clips; I believe they were known on Earth as ‘movies’. Many of our references come from such movies, and any other member on Nova will probably not understand them.
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Shortly after their seventeenth Advancement Day, Edana, Lorivahl, Jorn and Yaara started calling themselves ‘The Mob’; Jorn, the artist of the group, dragged them to the cinematic club to watch a clip about organized crime in twentieth century Earth. They laughed so hard, that for a while, they started talking in that ridiculous accent, using quaint English phrases and integrating a nasal "see" every other word. The only one that stood the test of time and stuck was referring to themselves as the mob.
Yaara’s personal favorites were clips that told about the heroic deeds of canines. Their unconditional loyalty and bravery fascinated her, and though grateful to the founders for bestowing their successors, including her, with a future, she couldn’t help but wish they would have included dogs in their manifesto…
(From ‘Yaara and Jorn’ by Sela)
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The third day is dedicated to my private orientation. Rather than the customary three weeks, that for some traditional reason are called ‘boot camp’, and are a requirement for all new recruits, I’m given a one day shorthand version; I receive my new uniforms, taught general hierarchy and ranks, codes of behavior and so forth. I really don’t know how they manage to stretch this information along three weeks, I think to myself on my way back to the pod, though I was surprised to learn that on Nova, unlike on Earth, ranks are given as a label of function rather than time, thus anyone who is not in a commanding position effectively has no rank. Interesting. I have to admit, though, that it was indeed a long day and I don't get back until everyone has already returned from their rotations. When I enter, I find that Jorn has rearranged the common room, set up a real dining table with tablecloth, mock candles (there is no open flame on the entire planetoid), and fate knows where he found the fancy tableware. Edana, Leenar, and Lorivahl are all dressed in elegant white pants and tunics, no doubt designed by Lorivahl, while Jorn, dark and sexy in his habitual black, hands me a beautiful miniature sketch of a red rose that he drew. He walks me to my seat, chivalrously pulls out the chair for me to sit down, and starts serving a passable tomato flavored soup. I choke back tears, because I know that he is a much better person than I will ever be, and go around the table to hug each one of my beloved friends to thank them. Jorn, still standing, is last, and when I hug him tight, I can longer hold back my tears. “What's wrong?” he asks alarmed. “You are so wonderful, and I don't deserve you…” I manage between sobs. He dries my tears with his shirt and assures me “well, I think it's the other way around…” When I finally stop crying, Lorivahl mutter “well if he's so wonderful, how come this soup tastes like shower water?!” I lightly hit his shoulder and say “be nice”. “This is me being nice” he retorts, “it actually tastes like piss”, then he stands up, kisses Jorn and adds “There is an old proverb ‘piss served by a loving heart is better than nectar’, or something to that effect” Jorn finally tastes the soup, makes a disgusted face and says “you guys are the best friends anyone could wish for. You bravely ate this crap so as not to offend me…” We sit by the table for hours, laughing, reminiscing, cracking jokes and rehashing old stories. I really do love them all, I look at them quietly. I'll miss them terribly, but I will do anything I can to protect them, to protect THIS! and silently cringe at my pathos.
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Lorivahl knew he had fallen in love with Yaara the moment he first set eyes on her on their seventeenth Advancement Day, 393.9.1. Earlier that day he moved from dorm31, finally breathing the intoxicating air of complete freedom, and waited eagerly in the common area to meet his new pod mates. Edana arrived first; she was short, with black dreadlocks and a sweet dimpled smile which gave the impression that she was shy, but as he quickly learned, nothing could be further from the truth. She couldn't stop talking about the mysterious tall, blond girl from one of the neighboring pods that she just had to find once everyone had settled in. “I’m telling you, sweetie, she’s the one!” she said enthusiastically and thus started a long standing tradition of the four of them calling each other ‘sweetie’. She eventually found her blond, but rather than the svelte tall goddess, it was the much shorter, curvaceous, and very cute Leenar, who eventually joined their little family. Yaara arrived next. She was of average height, with short, shiny, honey colored hair, grayish blue eyes and an athletic build. Her shoulders were strong and confident, nevertheless, there was something about her that made him want to protect her, a feeling that was so foreign to him that he gasped outwardly without intending to. When she smiled at them and introduced herself, his heart made an unfamiliar flutter. Is this that love-at-first-sight that people talk about?! Nah, probably indigestion, he amused himself. Yaara was the least talkative of the three, and listened amicably to their gabbing. When the fourth pod-mate entered, Yaara called “Jorn!” and flew out of the couch and into his arms. It was so quick, that only later, when they both relaxed, did he get a chance to admire the new addition as well. No flutter in his heart, but the same instant desire to defend Jorn, whose delicate features and long graceful neck appealed to him. Jorn was quite shorter than Lorivahl, and his beautiful, dark eyes shined with excitement - apparently Yaara had been his best friend in dorm5, and with some quick thinking and uncanny persuasive ability, he was able to switch to the same pod. If Yaara’s smile was beautiful before, it was practically bewitching now.
(From ‘Yaara and Jorn’ by Sela)
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The next morning, we again take the PTS to the cinematic club, to binge on old movies. In one of them, I can’t remember which because they’re all mashed up in my memory, there is a scene that was filmed in a beautiful water reservoir, called ‘a pool’. The clear and calm turquoise water beckon me like no other in the many previous clips that I’ve seen over the years. That brings my regrets about Nova to two, I reflect. The lack of dogs and absence of pools. I wonder if that ‘swimming’ action is intrinsic to humans or needs to be taught.
I spend as much time as I can at the martial arts club, of which I’ve been an enthusiastic member since I was twelve. For years I’ve been trying to convince Jorn to join us, but he has always refused. One day, exasperated by my constant badgering, he promised to learn the katas and spar if I write a page long romantic poem. That was the day I gave up and no longer pestered him about martial arts. On the fifth morning Jorn is preparing another surprise for me; banished from our room, I practice alone when I suddenly feel that I’m being watched. I turn around to stare directly at those amazing eyes that have haunted my dreams for the last few nights. “Are you a hallucination?” I ask immediately. “Fate, I hope not!” he laughs and my heart swells in my chest. “Then what do you want from me?” “I told you, I simply want to make sure that you are safe...” At that moment Jorn opens the door to tell me that I’m allowed back in our room because my surprise is ready. I return my eyes to where Orin was standing a second ago, but as incomprehensible as it is, he has simply vanished. I remain staring until Jorn, completely oblivious, takes my hand and leads me back to our pod. When we enter our room, he proudly shows me a picture that he had just finished painting, depicting me and a big dog, by a pool. It’s a completely surreal scene, yet stirs up a sensation of home and longing in me, so strong that I gasp and turn to hug him with grateful tears in my eyes, Orin completely forgotten for the moment.
The days pass quickly and the morning that I need to report to my first outfit, the Shields, has arrived. I wake up before the alarm goes off, to see Jorn already sitting dressed by the desk that doubles as a dining table, on it are two cups of steaming coffee and a lovely plate of toast and jam. I notice that he has already laid out my new midnight blue uniform, Nova's hurtling circular insignia with the ensuing three parallel straight lines on its sleeve. I jump out of bed, squealing with joy, pull him up from the chair and make him twirl with me. “You are the best best-friend ever!” I smile at him. He grabs my breasts and ask innocently “you wouldn't mind leaving these behind, would you?” I slap him playfully “only if I can take your neck with me…” and we sit to savor the extravagant breakfast. I'm still nude, he is fully dressed and it feels the most natural thing in the world. After finishing my coffee, I run to the washroom to get ready, and then return to our room to put on the unfamiliar uniforms. I dash back to the washroom to glance in the mirror, I have to admit, I look pretty cute in this form-fitting midnight blue suit, I think to myself, though I could be biased in that regard. When I enter the common area of our pod, Lorivahl, Edana and Leenar are already waiting, despite the early hour. “You didn't think we'd let you leave without a proper send off?” Jorn joins us smiling. I feel tears welling in my eyes again and know that the minute I’l
l open my mouth to thank them, I won't be able to hold them back so I gather them all for a long encompassing group hug. By now my eyes are watering freely and Jorn grabs the edge of his tee shirt again, to gently wipes my tears away. “We can't have you reporting for duty with red eyes now, right?! Especially not to an outfit with a sexy name like The Shields” he tries to lighten the heavy atmosphere.” “Speaking of which” Lorival interjects when I start laughing, “you're not allowed to fall for any of them, no matter how sexy. Remember that we're all waiting here, particularly me!” He hugs me close and I whisper to him “make sure Jorn is happy!” They want to accompany me to zone 25, but I manage to convince them that I cannot afford to cry again in front of everyone, because I have a gut feeling that they're going to resent me being there. I hug each of them without words, kiss Jorn hard on his lips and leave with a heavy heart.
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Lorivahl, tall, with curly blond hair and smiling green eyes, quickly learned that Yaara was more than capable of protecting herself as well as the others, however, he still saw something vulnerable in her eyes.
He also observed that Yaara and Jorn’s relationship was utterly asymmetrical. They clearly adored each other, but Yaara was never aware of the fact that Jorn was head over heels in love with her. For a while, this fact gave him hope regarding his chances with her, but as Jorn became his best friend, he understood that he could never do that to him. Trying to seduce Jorn was futile as well, and Lorivahl began a series of very short relationships that were certainly pleasurable, always ended amicably, but were never enough. Rather than become the lovelorn member of the mob, he became the funny one, the one always with a smile on his face, always cracking a joke, and though sometimes he felt trapped in his role, it was a fait accompli.
(From ‘Yaara and Jorn’ by Sela)
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I knock on Captain Han’s door. “Come in” I hear a low grumpy voice. I enter, salute as I've been taught during my brief private orientation, and wait at attention. He scans me from top to bottom, as I secretly observe him from the corner of my eye; he is tall, his long brown hair unkempt and not at all military-like, and I can't see his eyes because they're hidden underneath a pronounced scowling brow. “You're too short” he growls at me causing me to slightly jump, startled. “Sir?” I ask confused. “You're too short, you won't be able to keep up. And you definitely don't look strong enough!” I wait because I don't want to aggravate my first commander on my first day, but I feel that my blood is beginning to boil; you just wait and see what I can do, I fume silently. “Why did they send you to me, and what's this ‘fast track’ BS?” he demands. “Sorry, sir. You would have to take that up with General Dahvit. It was his idea. Respectfully, sir!” I finish. He is a little surprised by the fact that I’m standing my ground and asks “You believe you would be able to keep up?” “We won't know until we try… sir.” A big smile suddenly lights up his face, and I can see that his eyes are brown and warm. “I like you” he says, slapping me on my back “you've got spunk!” He opens the door, steps out and motions me to follow. We reach a big hangar with a variety of training areas, where he roars “Sergeant Danica, I have a new recruit for you!” A tall middle-aged woman with broad shoulders and very short gray hair comes jogging, salutes Captain Han and stares down at me. “This is Yaara, the one we discussed yesterday. You know what to do” he turns around and walks away. I salute the sergeant, hoping to erase the look of instant dislike from her eyes. She turns around, without returning my salute and without uttering a word, and I have to assume that I'm meant to follow her. Her strides are long and I find myself jogging a step behind to the locker room. She hands me a midnight blue training suit and leaves, still taciturn. I change quickly and go outside to find her by a forest of ropes hanging from the ceiling. She points to one of them with her thumb up, and I easily climb to the top and back down. I realize that I have yet to hear her voice. She nods and casually gestures me to run around the course. I run for a while, noting that I haven't even started to get winded; I’m still surprised by my stamina and strength. I don't know how many laps she expects me to run, so I just keep at it until I notice her waving me over. As I walk towards her, I see here eyes growing wide and I finally hear the sound of her voice, which is surprisingly pleasant “why didn't you stop running?” she asks curiously. “I didn't know how far you wanted me to run... Sir” She smiles and says “I'm Serge, not Sir, and you, my dear, have got to be my favorite recruit ever!” her voice filled with mirth. “How are you at face to face combat?” “I don't know, Serge. I've never tried, but I am quite proficient in a mixture of martial arts for sport. If that helps” I add. “I believe it does” she takes my hand and walks me to a sparring rink where a squad of Shields is already training. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Yaara. Be nice to her because I have a feeling that soon she'll be able to whoop your asses!” I cringe inwardly because that is definitely not the way I like be introduced to new people. The instructor calls me into the rink and says “let's see what you can do”. I'm not used to sparring with shoes, let alone heavy military boots, and I'm not sure what's expected of me, so I ask “can I sit and watch one round, sir?” he narrows his eyes but agrees. I watch two soldiers spar violently, nothing resembling the graceful movements to which I'm used. But I get the idea; it looks as though basically anything goes, except for killing or maiming, without any rules that I can discern. When they're done, the instructor gestures me back with a condescending grin. “Borin, front and center!” he calls and a giant man stands up. “Can I take my boots off?” I ask, expecting a negative answer, but the instructor only shrugs and says “it's your funeral”. I take off my heavy army shoes, and feel springy all of a sudden. I jump into the rink, we size up each other and Borin starts laughing. “Hey Serge, what did you bring us?! I can hardly see her, she's so small. Don't go blaming me if something happens to her…” Sergeant Danica smiles confidently and says “give it all you've got, son” “But I can stomp her with my shoe” he continues to he buddies’ snickering. I decide that I've heard enough. Glancing at the instructor, I judge that the fight has already started. I run to Borin, use his body mass as a climbing wall, jump on his shoulders, grab his neck behind my elbow and start choking him. He growls, flailing his arms like a wounded bear, but can't grab hold of me. He gradually becomes dizzy and loses orientation. That's when I let go of his big neck and jump off his shoulders. KO. The fight is over before it began. I see Serge grinning at me proudly, the rest of the squad are dead silent, and the instructor rushes to Borin to make sure he's alright. Borin looks at me stunned, but as soon as he can stand up straight, he walks towards me, squeezes me tightly and starts laughing. The rest of the squad join him, slapping my back and welcoming me as one of them. Okay, I think to myself, that was the easy part. Now I need to think of ways to give them every possible advantage, to save as many lives as possible, should the need arise. The rest of the day is dedicated to endurance and strength, both of which are no longer a problem for my enhanced abilities. We eat together at the mess hall, basically the same food on which we all grew up, and retire at night to the barracks. Since I'm new and not a permanent part of the squad, I'm given a mattress to sleep on the floor. “Man, this isn't right, you being our guest and all” Borin offers to switch places with me, but I refuse of course, thanking him. “Tiny knows what she's doing” laughs a Shield nicknamed Grunt, I can only imagine why, “who knows what she'll find in your bed…” everyone chortles and my new nickname, Tiny, sticks. I'm happy with my first day as part of the PDF; a small, unconventional part, but still…