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renwritesstuff · 7 years ago

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Samantha Traynor Appreciation Day 1

Day 1- Colonist Upbringing: I chose the Skyllian Blitz as a focus on Samantha Traynor’s colonist upbringing. With a 26-year-old Sam, the Blitz would have occurred when she was around 16. I imagine the Skyllian Blitz as a September 11-type of event, especially for other human colonies: something to watch unfold while hugging your family tight.

Shouting, Samantha Traynor burst through the front door. “Mum! Dad! Are you watching?!”

A 16-year-old Sam was clad in a burnt orange school uniform, a shield embroidered on the front left pocket. The black slacks were dusty around the ankle cuffs from her abrupt exit out her friend Nicole’s skycar at the end of the cul-de-sac. Her short—normally neat—bob of black hair was tousled from the impromptu run.

Running was highly out of the ordinary for Sam (and not just because she was an asthmatic). As was Sam home at noon on a school day (she wasn’t known to bunk off school. Ever.)

Sam’s schoolbag was already half-slung over her shoulder before she abandoned it by the coat rack. Black (dusty) shoes were kicked off next to the door as the girl tore down the hallway of the prefab.

“No running in the house!” Priya Suresh-Traynor barked back, more strain in her voice than usual.

Then again, it also wasn’t usual for Sam’s mother to be home this early in the day.

Nothing about today was usual.

Geoffrey Traynor called over from the wide living room at the end of the hall. “In here, sprog!”

Sam came skidding to a halt, already breathless from running up the stairs of the unit of prefabs. Wheezing in ragged breaths, she fumbled around in her pockets for her inhaler. A few deep puffs soothed the burn in her chest as she fell into the open spot on the sofa next to her dad.

On the screen covering the wall, a news program was already in progress. The Alliance News Network reporter on the screen was an older gentleman in a crisp black suit. His handsome face was lined with seriousness as he continued his broadcast.

[“—ports are still scattered at the moment, but the Human Systems Alliance has confirmed an attack was repelled from Elysium early this morning, around 05:21 GST. Again: the human colony in the Skyllian Verge, Elysium, has been under communications blackout for the past seven hours after a large-scale attack. Estimates of the dead are upwards of 10,000 and may be as high as a tenth of the colony, humanity’s oldest in the system.”]

“Oh shit fucking hell. It’s true.” Sam sighed as she tucked her knees up under her chin. She coughed slightly as the burning in her chest cleared.

I was hoping—hoping—the other kids had just gotten it wrong. Some fake news chaining its way around the colonies like some sick, shitty joke.

And knocking off school early? Was the entire school, or all of Horizon, in on it?

Just—uhhh—shut up. Let me have my denial.

An arm wrapped around her shoulder gently shook Sam as Geoffrey admonished, “Don’t swear. Especially like that. …Good lord, what are they teaching you in that high school?”

“All the essentials, clearly,” Sam quipped back, her eyes still trained on the screen.

A small crawl feed trailed in the corner of the screen. [“Targeted bombings reported at key locations around Illyria. Wall breaches in five sectors. Coordinated attack leaves colony in chaos and stock futures for Baria Frontiers and ExoGeni Corporation remain in freefall.”]

Thousands of people are dead, probably by pirates, and these arseholes are worried about their bloody stocks? Samantha scowled into her knees. God, I hate arseholes. I hope I never become one.

Gotta get rich first. Then become an arsehole.

Priya’s voice was faint in the other room, clearly on a call with the hospital. “—re we taking in any of the survivors? …then what about volunteers? …when we will know when it’s clear to offer assistance? …Look, Mark, I know we’re all overworked as it is… But this could have been us… I disagree, who are we to know if they’d ‘do the same for us?’ …This isn’t about what-if, this is about—“

A feeling of pride swelled in Samantha’s chest as she listened to the ferocity in her mum’s voice.

“I see the uni got dismissed before the high school,” Sam observed to her father out of the corner of her mouth, eyes still glued to the screen.

“I was still in office hours before the announcement went out. Didn’t even make it to my first class,” Geoffrey returned with a sip of his tea before placing it back on the side table.

“That’s such bollocks.” Sam scowled. “Everyone knew by first period and they didn’t dismiss finally til third. …what’s the time differential?”

A smile curled under Geoffrey’s beard. “Don’t be lazy. You know the time dilation formula. Three relay jumps. Galactic standard time adjustment. Horizon operates on a 37-hour day, Elysium on a 27-hour day. What is the time differential? Tell me my tax dollars haven’t been an utter waste.” The professor’s eyes sparkled in challenge.

Closing her eyes, a series of math formulas popped into Sam’s head. Her fingers drummed on her shin as she worked through the equation. “Ugh, this is such bollocks. Time is utterly absurd on a galactic scale… Because technically they’re like seven months in the future. But—carry the four—the attack occurred around like… lunchtime? Noonish?”

Geoffrey checked his Omni-tool. “Correct.” A hand stroked his chin in pride while his other arm squeezed Sam’s shoulders. “Batarians are already taking credit for it.”

An irrational stab of hatred flashed in Sam’s eyes, her nostrils flaring. “What do those nasty four-eyed buggers have against us?? Bloody slavers who wouldn’t—“

That arm rocked Sam’s shoulders again. “You forget we weren’t here first, Sam. And you forget your human history. Israel and Palestine ring any bells? Land promised to one civilization then given to another? Years of conflict as a result?”

Ughhhh…

This is what happens when your dad is a professor. Everything is a bloody learning experience.

…Can’t I just be upset?

“…can’t I just be upset, dad? This could have been us.”

“You’re right. It could have been. And this was symbolic and they knew it.” There was a hardness to her father’s words, an edge he was trying to keep dulled.

The reporter on the news chimed back in after a few stock videos of past Alliance skirmishes.

[“The Alliance has just confirmed one initial rumor: the communication blackout was broken by a team of heroic off-duty soldiers led by an N7 marine. This team stormed a bunker and managed to activate the emergency beacon system. The SSV Agincourt war frigate is already credited with an unconfirmed 42 ships brought down around Illyria of pirate bands attempting to hold the colony. That number is still climbing as other Alliance Navy ships have arrived.”]

“This is like a movie. I didn’t think this happened in real life,” Samantha remarked. Since she’d heard the news this morning, there had been this heaviness in her chest. A sense of smallness and disbelief.

It seemed so absurd. An entire colony going dark? All communications offline?

Communication is all we bloody have out here. Without it, we’re not the Human Systems Alliance. We’re just Another Backwoods Colony Trying to Make It On Our Own.

And lambs to the slaughter, apparently.

The rumor mill at school had been unstoppable for hours. A few upset parents had swooped in to pick up their kids before any formal announcement had been made. Sam had been hunkered down in the hallway with a pair of friends, Omni-tools out and combing through reports. A few clever custom filters had screened out some of the more ludicrous claims (“Third Contact War with turians nigh (Citadel Council does nothing)!” or “Geth returned from quarian space to conquer galaxy!” or, Sam’s personal favorite, “Civil War breaks out in Elysium over Illyria’s loss in the bioti-ball play-offs!”) all seemed to agree on one thing: a human colony had been attacked.

Nicole had chewed her lip, a number of relatives from (or stationed on) Illyria.

Victoria next to Nicole had tried to be reassuring. The brunette had put a hand on her girlfriend’s wrist. “It’s probably some training exercise gone awry.”

Nodding, Sam tried to feel optimistic. “Or they’re blowing it out of proportion. You know how those gits love their ratings.” She’d snapped her mouth shut at Victoria’s withering glare.

Only when Ms. Steinhold had released them from Applied Statistics had the news started to feel real to Samantha. But the epiphany wasn’t immediate. It was deadened by numb disbelief even as she hitched a ride home from Nicole and Victoria. Even as the car radio repeated the claims back. Even as Sam gasped for breath across the brown dirt of her street and saw other families home, their own wall screens tuned to the news in rapt attention.

Everyone on Horizon—maybe even every human on every colony—had gone home to hold their breath.

It was some analyst who came on later who coined it the “Skyllian Blitz.”

A blitzkrieg. “Lightning war.”

Geoffrey Traynor had nodded at the aptness of the phrasing. “Not a movie, sprog. History repeating itself.”

“I don’t see turians or asari dealing with this sort of ‘history,’” Sam retorted, indignant. It was all she could to keep the smallness at bay, the hopeless misery of feeling hated by the entire galaxy.

Are they really that much more advanced than the lowly humans? No one picks on them? No one tries to wipe out their colonies?

“Maybe it will bring the galactic community closer together,” Geoffrey suggested, his tone neutral.

It took all of Sam’s energy not to scoff. She was filled with childish indignation at this point, an impotent rage that mirrored the latest fire-and-brimstone retired Admiral calling for swift and immediate action against the batarian hegemony. Definitely a better feeling than despair, but without any outlet: what could Sam do?

Mum is organizing off-world volunteers to take care of the wounded. Dad will probably counsel his students and fellow faculty.

And I’m 16 and all I do is go to school and play chess. I can’t enlist for two years, and even then I’d be too bloody terrified to pick up a weapon. Does the galaxy really need someone like me on the front lines?

God, I hope not. Because humanity is fucked.

A fresh face interrupted the latest speculation, much to Sam’s relief. She felt herself getting wound up by all the aimless rage. Some calm heads and facts would be a welcome respite.

[“This is Artermis Kingston, reporting live from Arcturus Station. We have acquired ground footage from Elysium in this firsthand report from a survivor in Illyria. This footage made be disturbing to some viewers due to its violent subject matter. Discretion is advised.”]

A jerky Omni-tool video proceeded to play. It followed a heavily breathing camera operant, a young Black man with terrified eyes. His uniform bore the logo of the monorail corporation of Illyria.

The view swung dizzily back below him, his frantic breathing a constant background sound. A smoldering train could be seen down the line as the man crawled around the raised platform. Occasionally, his frantic breathing formed words of prayer under his breath.

Popping gunfire could be heard in the distance along with the crackle of fires. The noonday sun was oddly cheery in the background as dozens of smoke lines drifted lazily to the sky.

Just below the man, an explosion drew his attention and the camera jerked. The sound decayed to static from just sheer overwhelming noise. It died down though the crackling persisted. The camera ducked for cover for a moment before peeking back up to look.

The central ring of the inner wall of Illyria had just caved in as a swarm of pirates fired into the colony. A dozen Alliance soldiers crouched behind blockade walls below the camera and attempted to repel the invaders. One by one they were picked off.

It sickened Samantha to see their bodies fall limp. She leaned into her father’s side, occasionally burying her face into his sleeve when the camera lurched forward for a close-up of a soldier’s lifeless face.

Zooming back out, one lone soldier with a red stripe on the arm shouted for backup. But when they realized the man next to them was dead, the person clenched their fists in anguish. Pinned down by at least 15 pirates, the last soldier standing should have been dead.

Sam felt fear catch in her throat. This wasn’t a movie. This was really happening. She was watching people die.

Oh God, please be okay. Why would the ANN show this??

…I can’t watch.

Suddenly there was a flash of blue and the soldier wasn’t there anymore. The camera was just as confused as Sam was, the screen panning around trying to find the subject again. Another flash of blue as the camera found and zoomed in on the fray of pirates being torn to shreds by a flashing Omni-blade and surging biotics.

What should have been a massacre was quickly turned against the advancing pirates. They were torn to pieces by a lone combatant who was faster, fiercer and better trained than them. Every moment of hesitation from a pirate or a missed shot was an open opportunity for the soldier to strike and move on.

Sam squinted at the footage.

Is that… red hair? Is that… a woman?

A total badass woman, that’s for bloody sure.

The camera/man sighed with relief as the soldier rummaged through the bodies and found whatever they were looking forward. A moment later, charges were set and a large billboard jutting up next to the hole collapsed into the space, blocking at further incursion.

The video paused as the soldier stood overlooking the rubble, a shotgun primed over one shoulder. Just like at the end of a movie.

Except real life. This woman, this soldier: she was real.

[“The Alliance confirmed the hero in this footage was off-duty N7 marine Lieutenant Annelise Shepard, 22. The Alliance has also confirmed the team that activated the emergency beacon system was also led by Lieutenant Shepard.”]

22… 22??

I’ll be 22 if—when I graduate university… and she—she fought off an army of pirates??

Bloody hell.

How—what could I ever do that would even come close to that? Win the Kepesh-Yakshi Grand Tourney on Illium?

Ms. Kingston winked at the camera before quickly regaining her serious composure. [“The ANN will have an exclusive interview with Lieutenant Shepard—and the other heroes of the Skyllian Blitz—as this story unfolds.”]

The male newscaster returned to the screen with a sober smile. [“Thank you, Artemis. The Citadel Council has condemned this horrific attack on human soil and has dispatched goodwill ambassadors—along with aid ships—to the Skyllian Verge to assist in the recovery effort. The Human Systems Alliance has opened up comm lines for charity and volunteer organizations as well. There is a—“]

Geoffrey patted his daughter’s head, ruffling her hair affectionately, before joining his wife in the kitchen. The Traynor parents quietly discussed the Elysium attack.

Sam feigned interest in the news while also attempting to eavesdrop. Her father was muted with worry, fearing for Horizon in the wake of the attack. Priya was more fiery in her resentment. They’d been through hell to move out to this colony and no one was going to take their home from them.

Something nagged at Samantha that started her down a rabbit hole of extranet articles. It kindled something within Sam that was different from outrage or despair.

It was curiosity.

How could a coordinated attack bring down an entire colony’s communications network?

What sort of comms don’t need a buoy network to function? A buoy network that can be assaulted and brought down so easily?

Sam came across a stub of an article in the research section of the Alliance R&D tab.

“Quantum Entanglement Communication: Practical Applications.”

And started to read.

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