Space Soldier, Intro One I Wanna Be a Space Soldier

The New Universal All Worlds Wikipedia
Lists a soldier as:

1: Typically a man serving in an army; a member of a coed army;
2: Typically an enlisted man;
3: Typically a man of much military experience.

I take exception to Wikipedia in that–
I am not a man, and I am barely of man.
Really, I am more than man.

I am an Aleutinite that happens to be a soldier in the new Universal Armed Services, stationed on Crageor 3.

You can call me, Sgt. Ma.

I am afraid you could not pronounce my real name.

Oh, my ancestors were human, some seven hundred years ago.  However, there are several key differences between human and Aleutinite.


Additionally, my homeworld has two suns.

One is a white dwarf that is located six and a half million solar kilometers from Aleutin.  The other is a G class star that is eight point two million solar kilometers from Aleutin.  The amount of those sun’s radiation reaching the surface of Aleutin is some two and a half times stronger than on Earth.

The typical daytime temperatures here are 65C or so in my hometown.

One gets a hell of a suntan over the years from two suns, let me tell you.  We think you Earthlings are a bit on the pale side, you know.

We were bred for this radiation and heat, by the Geneticists of Earth’s twenty-second century.

At the time, they were still playing with synthesizing ribonucleic acid.  However, with the use of computer imaging, information sharing throughout the entire world, and a major advance in ruby lasers, the Geneticists made a major discovery late in that Century.

The Scientists finally understood the order in which the DNA was wrapped.  They had mapped the individual strands of the code in the twenty-first century but did not know what the order meant.

My foremothers, or Gene Suppliers, were one of the earlier experiments to have their DNA re-ordered, and a few pieces of code changed.

Thusly, the radiation, that reaches the surface of Aleutin isn’t a big a deal for us.  That is why we were sent there.

Of course, Nature doesn’t like to be trifled with.  She retaliated by changing the sex codes without the original Geneticists knowledge.

Yes, we are all female, and self-replicating.

That’s right, we can have our own children, without outside interference.

Before we start with all of the jokes, let me tell you, “I have heard them all.”

I know about the Benusian Midget and the Aleutinite in the shower, and I know about the bald-headed aerial cop from Earth, with three Aleutinites in the hotel room.  And I do know the difference between a wet nurse and an Aleutinite.

So, just stow it!  OK?

On the positive side, however, we have little need for politicians or lawyers, as you people from Earth do.  Of course, baby doctors are in short supply.

I can’t speak for all of the gals here, but I sort of wish that we had a few men.  I mean, they would offer a viewpoint that is missing, I think.  I am considered sort of ‘butch.’

I am more interested in men because they will provide me with intellectual discussions that I can’t have on Aleutin.

Anyway, I have been part of the Planet Militia for seven standard years.  We keep the peace, from the outer five planets, down to the Aleutinite surface.

My sights have been on the Universal Army Services since I first saw their Fuchsia uniforms about ten standard years ago.  They would look good on me.

Of course, the UAS is co-ed, but they wouldn’t let me enlist at first, because they didn’t think that I could handle the environment.

This confusion is dependent upon one’s point of view that I am attracted to my own sex, because that is all I know, or I will go gaga upon seeing the men for the first time.

When you have your own sex partner and race creator as a built-in appliance, not an add-on, looking for an external sex partner is not lust, nor race driven.

Additionally, how many of either Terran sex will find me attractive?

I have seen Terrans before.  Your people are not attractive to me.  You have pale skin and lighter eyes.  Where your skin has brown overtones to it, ours is almost a violet black.

I would assume that you would find me, equally unattractive.

And, your people are so tiny, that I have yet to meet any Earthling, taller than my shoulders.  I get tired of bending down to greet you.

Anyway, since I was a child, I wanted to be in the military.  My Gene Supplier, Mom, decided that I was Planet Militia material because I was overly aggressive as a child.

I was taught all the proper ways for saluting, dressing, firing an Argonia rifle, and so on, in the Militia.  I excelled in hand to hand, though, with you folks, I probably do not need it.

I majored in military tactics.  I also learned various ways of dealing with situations that involved taking lives or destroying enemy resources.

A saboteur you might say.  I thrived in this environment.

Then came a day when my rebellious nature was put to the test.  I wanted to progress and enter the UAS.  I was told I could not, because I did not fit the profile.  Oh, my intelligence was high enough, and I passed my physical exam with flying colors.

They started by telling me that I was oversized, by thirty percent.

No girl likes to hear that.  As Aleutinites go, I am fairly petite.  I may not be a Gene Supplier Model, but I believe that I am fairly attractive.

Then, they patiently explained that the Starion Class, Plasma ships were not equipped for my sexual orientations.

I said, “I am a woman, just like your women.  I can use the exact same facilities!”

They said, “You are not like our women.  Our women can’t have children without help or sit inside an oven like it was a sauna.
Nor pick up a Buick!  You do not fit the profile!”

What is a Buick?

Anyway, my rebellious nature surfaced.  I mean, they hurt my feelings, you know?

Argonia rifles make a nasty vertical slice, in whatever it hits.  The slice is only four molecules wide.  One can be quite the artist with one of these.

Five well-placed shots, from a snipers’ position, and I had the UAS certification personnel scrambling, and part of their building leaning.  Personally, I think it improved the building’s architecture and lines.

I had traveled two point six light years, to another solar system in the cargo hold of a noisy Neubian freighter to Middletary to enlist, and they weren’t going to let me in the UAS.

I placed a couple of very neat shots into the Laser Nav system, for good measure since I was still irritated.

No Laser Nav, no supplies for the troops.

I fumed all night long and decided to hit them again before dawn.

As the red sun broke the horizon, I had already reversed the phasing on the Ssonoplexors.  With the Sonoplexors inoperative, Middletary’s insects were free to come near and into the troop facilities.

Middletary is a fairly new planet for humans.  It only has a decade of stabilization.

The first colonists had huge difficulties with the insects.
The ones that crawled, ate or ruined most of the food stores.
The ones that flew, bit in a vicious manner that resulted in a loss of limbs, and sometimes, death.  Most were larger than a Terrans hand.  The Sonoplexors helped keep the insects at bay with extremely high frequencies of audio.  Beyond human hearing, of course.

About noon, the certification personnel, got the Sonoplexors back online.
Sick Call, that afternoon, was filled to the brim, with lines of personnel forming outside.

One young man had a particularly nasty bite.  It seems as if he was relieving himself behind the Protonous stockpile.  I wonder if he kept his tiny appendage, or did it fall to the ground?

That afternoon, I decided that their generators needed tuning.  They were rotating at a pleasant 1800 RPM.  By revolving the stator wheel another ten degrees, I moved them to 2400 RPM.  Many of the certification personnel’s’ computer power supplies were destroyed before they were sharp enough to shut down their power source.

Boy, were they mad!

Tuesday night, and I was bored.  I decided to hit their environmental chambers.

Most humans get very uncomfortable when the humidity hits 95 percent, and the temperature gets very far from 22C degrees.  So, when the air temp hit 0 C degrees, and the humidity moved to 100 percent, the personnel was notably disturbed.

I heard some of the language.  It was highly descriptive and colorful.

I guess the ice in the hallways was treacherous and rather bothersome.

The next red dawn broke, and I was hot-footing it back to my quarters, but I paused with a thought.

Their perimeter security system had an obvious flaw in it.  Communications between the sensors and its base unit were electro-magnetically induced.  How simple it was to tune in to its frequencies, and descramble it, and change its code for my use.  Their ‘planet invasion’ alarm was not turned off for fifteen minutes.  At one hundred and twenty decibels, there were very few good ears left in the certification outfit to perform enlistment.

At noon, I moved into their encampment, through a breach in their perimeter system.  I knew their food stores had had some damage, from the day before.  By changing the Protonous heat levels, and lowering the valence band energy levels, plus adding a little diesel oil to the stock, I changed their eating habits for the next two weeks.

At least, until another supply ship could be sent for.  Of course, without the Laser Nav system no supplies.

Well–you get the picture.

That night, I set up my optically coupled Resonance Projector.  One hour past dawn, a few personnel were stirring about inside their quarters.

One soldier looked outside, past the Paledian Palm, and saw a herd of Bisudian Dragons.

Bisudian Dragons stand fifteen feet tall and are particularly mean.  With very fast rear legs, they can run down most prey.  They have rather large mouths; some three feet across.  Their teeth are only fourteen centimeters long, however.  They generally hold their prey in their mouths, with these teeth, and then use their 110 centimeters long tongue to ram holes in their victim.  Then, they alternate squeeze their victims and drink the blood.  They typically will cover half a mile in their dining, such that the victim will not be found near their own habitats.  This means that they can probably return to the kill zone and kill again.



Naturally, this disturbed the Certification Personnel’s breakfasts.

It took an hour for a single member (healthy member) to run a computer check and determine that there were not six Bisudian Dragons nor Paledian Palms outside.  They were only a moving holograph created by my projector.

One hour later, I came into their encampment again.

Again, I asked to be enlisted.

“Huh?  What did you say?” the young female soldier asked, at the top of her lungs, with hands behind each ear.  “You will have to speak up!”

I increased my volume and asked again.  Again, I was refused.

This time, I asked for the C.O.  As their Commanding Officer had been affected by an insect bite and was indisposed, this request was also denied.

I then asked for the standing C.O.

Ensign Clinton was summoned and gave me five minutes to state my case.  He turned his head to the left to hear me.

I showed him my training disk, with all of its associated history of my Militia experiences and advances.

He was slightly interested, but his fever kept him from full concentration.

“How did you get contract fever, Sir?”  I asked, so innocently.

Ensign Clinton responded with, “Our entire base has been set upon by saboteurs.  They are systematically ruining our encampment and the health of all my base personnel.”

He looked at me, shook his head and said, “We can’t carry on much longer, and if the C.O.  does not recuperate or they do not stop their attack, we will be forced to leave or die.”

“Sir, if you will view subsection 4.1.7. of my training disc, you will notice that I am highly trained in the art of sabotage, and counter-sabotage!”  I said.

I had his full interest, now.  “If I were an enlisted member, I could bring this knowledge to bear, and save your personnel from further discomfort.”

The dawn of realization slowly crawled upon his brow as his eyes got wider.

“Whem,,,,4.1.7., you say?”  Ensign Clinton asked.  “How long have you been trying to enlist?”  The good Ensign was obviously suspicious.

I hung my head, and shook it at the ground,
“Mournfully Sir, I must admit to several days, now.”

I snapped my head up, and put my hands out in a defensive posture.  “Nothing against your personnel.  Everyone was just doing their respective jobs.  I am sure that there was nothing personal in the way they performed those jobs.”

“Based on what you know now, can you guarantee that you can make the sabotage  cease?”  The good Ensign asked.  I noticed that his left leg was beginning to twitch, and the hand on that side as well.  He might have just been bitten again.

“I am prepared to guarantee that nothing will happen, from the time I enlist!”  I declared.

“Spec four Thoren, get her measured, suited, and billeted! Now!  I mean now!  I want to see her Basic Training schedule on my desk in forty-five minutes.  I want her shipped out of here within three weeks.”  the Ensign said.  He started to walk away, but the twitching made him stop.

He turned, looked directly into my eyes, and said,

“And to make sure that she gets treated fairly, and that we will not have any more saboteurs in our midst, make her a First Sargent, based on her vast previous experience and training record!”

“But, Ensign, Sir, regulations prohibit such a field promotion.  She is not even Regular Army.  She is just Planet Militia!”

I was beginning to get pissed again.  My mind quickly ran to the bathroom facilities that had been set up on the planet’s surface.  They were a pretty, cream color.  One door for each facility.  In true military fashion, they were all lined up.  I figured that one concussion grenade at just the right location would do the trick!

Ensign Clinton had watched my eyes and saw where they had settled.

“Spec Thoren, you are aware that I am the Standing C.O.  You are aware that field upgrades are part of my responsibility under acts of war, or siege, which we are now operating under.  You have been given a direct order!”

Ensign Clinton’s nose was now placed a Military Centimeter from Spec Thoren’s nose.

“You will follow my field directive.  You will treat this as a direct order. You will perform this function, or I will put you on duty–Tonight!  Policing the OUTBACK of Nigelia four!”

Specialist Thoren decided to follow orders.

I felt so proud.

I had achieved my dream and showed my gene supplier that I was more than just overly aggressive.

Furthermore, I had gained respect, as my story spread throughout the UAS.  From my enlistment forward, wherever I went, soldiers went out of their way to be nice to me, give me the best bunk, and usually keep a distance away from me.

There was even one Major that routinely asked me to join her for coffee, to get my opinion of any military risk she was facing.  She said something about, ‘Keep your friends close, but enemies closer.’

So, when a ground pounder says, “It’s the system, and you can’t change it!”  Just think of me.

I love the UAS.







9 thoughts on “Space Soldier, Intro One I Wanna Be a Space Soldier

      1. What? Colour me confused… I thought that the ‘only’ was a clue that Aleutinites are tall (I was thinking of the big blue folks in Avatar).


  1. I have to say, science fiction is do not my thing. You definitely lost me in the start. It was all too scientific for my liking but that doesn’t mean that there was anything wrong with your piece. In fact, I enjoyed reading it. The way you’ve paid peppe attention to the details, it was fabulous. I don’t have any advice to offer on this except to say that it was a wonderful read and that any science fiction lover would certainly love it.

    Thanks for being patient 😊


    1. Thank you dear lady. There are tons of non science fiction fans. Thank God the world is broken up that way. Your perception is exactly what I needed. Not why someone liked something but why they did not. So, you see, you were my expert, to continue or not along that story. I have a normal guy as her foil, that is a woman hater. I plan on having fun with him, as she strikes the humor that he will not see. i.e. the joke will be on him.

      Liked by 1 person

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