Prisoners of Sol - Girret Storm Riders (1/11)

Prologue | Next

Initial training was said to be grueling, but I found myself cool and ready as I settled onto my bunk. Whatever challenges laid ahead, I was here to meet noble minds and hone my skills. This was part of the job. Even active Storm Riders conducted training to maintain their fitness, during the non-storm season; many also supplemented local emergency responders, since disasters weren’t restrained only to the Year of the Storm. However, other infrequent conditions didn’t merit a global, coordinated response.

The predictability of the tempestuous season worked in our favor, and was how we’d ever been able to build a society when our world was beset by upheaval. We were the buffer that held off lawlessness and collapse. In the spirit of clearing my name, I knew I had to ingratiate myself to my cohorts and impress our trainers. I’d never had many friends, though that would follow after respect. Getting to know the other Girrets without the burden of ill repute was a freeing idea, I did admit.

Step one was just making it here, and it was the hardest. I trust myself to endure and prove myself; I know that I’m willing to do anything that is asked of me. Going above and beyond, working twice as hard: it fits with the philosophy of a true Storm Rider like Bneria. We aspire to those ideals, and…it’ll be an honor to meet and work alongside others who hold the same philosophy!

“Hey there,” my bunkmate hissed, causing me to snap upright and sway in greeting. “You must be Redge. I’m Narol, and I was told to come join you. Figure we might as well make nice if we’re going to be around each other for a good while.”

I flicked my tongue, tasting the air for nonverbal cues. “It’s nice to meet you. I agree wholeheartedly. As bunkmates, it’s a natural choice for us to stick together and have one another’s backs. That kind of camaraderie could save our lives out in the field.”

“Or just from Test Sergeant Pyed. Word on the street is that he’s a real hardass. Got injured trying to scale a building from the outside in buffeting wind, and never walked the same since. I guess now that he can’t be a hero himself, ol’ Pyed gets off on his little power trip here, putting recruits through the gauntlet. Don’t bother trying to earn his respect—just survive.”

“That’s excellent information. Appreciate it, though if he’s deciding whether we make it onto a proper unit, I think we have to put our best scale forward. To be frank, I’m here to earn a name for myself, no matter how difficult it is to earn that. What’s your story?”

Narol flopped sidelong onto the bed, taking that as an invitation to make himself comfortable. “It’s for the benefits of being a Storm Rider, of course. That sort of prestige gets you gainful employment with some powerful people. Just here to put in my time, take some cushy missions for the who’s who of Doros, and coast on that for the rest of my life. It’s really an intelligence test, those of us who see the opportunity, you know?”

Hiding how floored I was by the open admission of selfishness, with Narol not caring about the Storm Riders’ mission at all and seeming amenable to bribery, was difficult. I regretted throwing in my lot with such a self-serving, unscrupulous recruit, but I didn’t need to make any new enemies; this wasn’t what the organization that I revered was supposed to stand for at all. He had to be in the minority, I was certain. Test Sergeant Pyed would see through him and dismiss him, or he would flame out seeing how grueling the training was. My bunkmate lacked in the conviction or strength of character to see himself through this program.

If I’m to make it through here, I need to pick my battles; I can be self-serving in using the unsavory sorts to my advantage. After all, not every Girret out in the field will have the right reasons, so I must be able to handle all types.

“Opportunities to have your name spoken of in bars at every oasis across Doros, spoken of in every household’s whispers, looked up to by children as you ride into town,” I breathed, enraptured by the idea of adoring eyes falling upon my hood. My name being associated with heroism and honor would be the validation that I was my own person; that was the opportunity. “You have to save a few lives for that, don’t you, Narol? Imagine where that sort of reputation can get you.”

Narol chuckled. “Aw, you’re the ambitious type, aren’t you, Redge? That sounds great and all, but I don’t gain anything from plunging headlong into wild hazards; if I’m dead, I can’t reap the rewards of this damn title. I’ve got mouths to feed at home—my sister and her newborn could use a place in society and a helping scale. Moreso, I have plans to start a family. I want to have a future more than I want to be a legend. Legends are gone.”

“Everyone’s gone one day. It’s how you’re remembered and whether you’re remembered. It’s the impact you can make on the world. Like Bneria is still spoken of all these years later, like the whole concept owes its existence to her! An ideal to inspire others for generations and generations: that’s the power of reputation and pure, unabashed heroism. We’re only as much as gets passed on to whoever comes after us.”

“We’re only as much as we’re around to enjoy what we worked for, because once you’re gone, nothing matters to you anymore. You won’t see it or feel it, if people in three hundred years are scribing your names in the history books or you’re on some damn hologram. I guess it’s a sign that you’re well-loved in life, but if you die too soon to get anything from that, that doesn’t mean much.”

“I suppose there might be a happy medium balancing risk and reward.” My scales burned with distaste for the entire belief system he expressed, but I kept myself outwardly unemotional: I needed to fit in with my peers, if I was ever to salvage my expectation. Perhaps it was the trait of a good leader to go along with the general sentiment of the group. “That’s why we’ll be excellent partners, pulling each other in opposite directions. After all, it wouldn’t be good for one’s reputation if your missional choosiness was too overt. I’ll look out for your interests if you’ll respect mine.”

Narol’s forked tongue waggled with agreement. “Deal; I can work with that. I’m glad to hear you’re not some total naive idealist. You had me worried for a second.”

“We’re all here for our own reasons. As long as we keep saving lives and don’t lose public support, that doesn’t have to divide us. We can both try to get what we want.”

“Well, training will be getting started soon, so I suggest you get yourself ready. I’ll see you to pair up when we get our first exercises. I’ve heard from Tunia how this goes; she has multiple family members in the Storm Riders upper ranks, so she had an in with them and can slack off in training, basically. Lucky!”

“...yeah.” That’s a good thing? These recruits aren’t at all like I thought they’d be; they’re undriven and lacking integrity. “She’s lucky to have family to bail her out, if she can’t cut it.”

“Perhaps we should get in with her, just in case we need some divine intervention. We want to be on her good side; definitely don’t piss her off, since that’s a sure way to get cut from the program. Let me think that over.”

“Thanks, Narol. You seem…to have a worldly prudence about you.”

I made a show of tidying my minimalist belongings, and Narol climbed the ascension pole to the top bunk. For the first time since enlisting, I had doubts running amok about whether joining the Storm Riders was what it was cracked up to be. It appeared that making it through training might require me to bury my “idealism” and to strike some unsavory deals to get a leg up. All I had to do was keep my head down and not make a stir as a new recruit. Once I passed training, I could return to my goal of taking every mission—both to display my courage and to return this organization to its roots.

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A/N - Chapter 1! Redge sees the reality of Storm Rider recruits, between nepotism and greed, and makes a tenuous alliance with his bunkmate, Narol…who has very different ambitions. Our narrator realizes that blending in and getting along with his squadmates will require the masking of personal feelings. What do you think of the types of characters that Redge encountered, and what it speaks of the Storm Riders’ organization? Will our narrator be able to bend his morals and live up to Pyed’s standards enough to get through training? 

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!