Planet Telex

With a thump, Eyes of Green dropped the wooden crate on top of the others. The autocannon shells inside rattled about unhappily at being subjected to such roughness, but it was the best the Avian could do. They were heavy, and it wasn't like anyone else was going to help him.
"Ensign. Come with me."
Green sighed, not even having to turn to recognise the voice. "Yes, Captain." He shifted the box so it sat squarely with the others and then turned to follow him towards his office.
The design of Accord drydocks were rather spartan; concrete and steel, right angles and grids. Eyes of Green worked in Bay 2 of this one, the Capital Shipyard of Sector 7 on the Homeworld, and longed for anything else. Still, it was where he was assigned, and even though he was technically a junior officer, he was stuck doing the work that Assistants would be doing, if they could requisition enough. Moving crates, finding parts for the fitters, running basic tests. He, and dozens of others of his rank, kept things moving along, and as long as the work got done, the Ministry of Internal Affairs saw no reason to send what precious little Assistants they could get on the Homeworld to them.
"Eyes of Green, I have to admire your persistence." the Captain said, sitting down at his desk as Green followed him in. The office was much better decorated than the general yards, with carpet and paint making it feel like it was one of the Ministry's skyscrapers, not the oily yards outside. "Every time your reassignment request comes in, denied, you issue another."
Green, not having been told to sit, stood awkwardly off to the side of the door before the captain waved him towards one of the chairs opposite his desk. "Yes, sir, uh... working in the docks wasn't exactly what I was thinking of when I applied for the Navy."
"That's understandable, and it's regrettable that we can't put you in the post you want." the Captain leant across his desk, handing a folder over to Green containing the latest denied reassignment request. "There's a war, Ensign. We all have to do what we need to."
Green sighed and put the folder down on his lap. He didn't even bother opening it. "Yes, sir."
"And we need to get crafts out of docks." The captain leant back in his chair and gestured out towards the windows. "See that big ship out there?"
Eyes of Green turned to look, but mostly out of politeness. Outside the office windows, the largest drydock on the Homeworld could be seen, a mostly constructed ship sitting in it. Green had worked around the ship every day for the year since the foundation was laid. "Yes, sir."
"They've given it a name. AAC Claws of Gold. On paper, it's the most powerful ship we've built yet. A flagship." The Captain nearly burst with pride as he looked it over. "Magnificent, isn't it?"
Green nodded slowly, and dared to ask the question on his mind. "Has it got a crew?"
"No. I'd not even bother applying for a post, though. Not only is the crew going to be hand-picked by it's new captain, but not even I would make the cut."
Green sighed wistfully, and turned back towards the Captain. "What do I do? I can't stay here in the docks my entire life. Without a space posting, I'll never get promoted, and without getting promoted, I won't get a space posting."
The Captain paused for a moment, eyes switching between the ship outside the window and the Avian sitting in front of him. "There's one way to get posted there. I don't think you'll like it, though, and I wasn't going to mention it to the Ensigns..."
"Can it be worse than what I have to do around here?"
The Captain looked down at one of the folders on his desk, emblazoned with the Ministry of Internal Affairs insignia, and sighed. "They're looking for volunteers. Not just for this ship, but for all the new capitals. Ones in good standing, no criminal reassignments, with Navy experience. You're smart enough, and the work would be better suited to your stature than lugging around boxes, so you'd have a chance at it."
Green shook his head in confusion. "I thought you said that not even you would make the cut. Why would they let me volunteer?"
"Ah, well." The Captain paused, attempting to phrase it in his mind. "They need Avians that can be wired directly into a ship's systems, and that means..."
"...being that kind of volunteer." Green turned back to face the Claws of Gold, looking it over in silence. "It's a guaranteed post?"
"There's some tests and some added requirements before they'll accept you as a volunteer. If you don't make the cut, you can back out, and come back here."
Green thumbed through the folder on his lap idly, the Captain giving him time to think. Volunteering was a one way trip, but as he saw it, it was his only way into space...

A few minutes later, the paperwork was done. After Eyes of Green had left, the Captain added a page of his own in the end, a recommendation for the position. Volunteering required making sacrifices for the Accord, ones he'd never be able to make, and he respected that. Your old life, your old memories, your identity... all gone with the chip. He knew there was a point to it, that Volunteers could do so much more for the Accord with a chip than without... and even though he knew Green wasn't selflessly doing it for the good of the Accord, he still had to respect the Avian's bravery.

Eyes of Green worked the next week in anxiousness and anticipation. Part of himself couldn't believe he'd willingly volunteer, but it had a kind of excitement to it, as well. The Volunteers were used for logistics, meaning that they wielded enormous control over every system on board and were responsible for keeping things going on the city-blocks-long ship. Certainly more than he would ever be able to do here...
"Ensign. When you've got a minute."
Eyes of Green nearly dropped the box of tools on his foot. "Uh, yes, right away, sir." 'When you've got a minute' is right now for a senior officer, the Captain had reminded him once, so he put down the tools and followed close behind.
"Sit down."
Green did so, sitting in the nearest chair of the Captain's office. He couldn't help but notice the bright red envelope sitting on the desk, but didn't comment. "Yes, sir."
"Green, you're a good Avian, and I trust your personal judgement." said the Captain as he sat down. "But, I do have to ask if you are absolutely sure that you want to do this."
Green nodded. "Yes, sir."
The Captain pushed the red letter over and gestured for Eyes of Green to take it. "You passed the Ministry's checks." The ensign took the envelope and opened it up, the paper unfolding into a single sheet printed with the details about the pending Assignment. "Logistics, on a capital ship."
"Which one?" Green asked, looking the letter over, which said nothing about it.
"That's a tricky one to answer." replied the Captain, drumming his talons against the desk. "The Captain of the Claws of Gold gets to pick her own crew, including the Volunteers. If you're not part of that group, then... I can't be sure."
"But... it's still somewhere useful?" Green frowned, a bit unsure. He could see why the Ministry couldn't pick what Accord Navy ship he got put on, but...
"Yes, of course. They don't assign more than they need. Even if it doesn't bear the Primus's name, you'll still be on one of it's class." The Captain moved another envelope into sight. "This is your release from major duties until your re-assignment. Don't want you getting into an accident."
"Yes, sir." Green stood, and put his hand up to salute.
The Captain replied with a salute of his own. "May the Goddess be with you."

Green kept the red letter in his pocket, and couldn't help but occasionally pull it out and read it over again. A few of the Avians scoffed, a few looked a little worried, and only a few approached him about it.
"Get court-martialed, Green?" one asked, sitting down beside him at lunch. "That's the rumour, anyway, since you started carrying around that thing."
"Huh?" Green looked up and shook his head. "No. I volunteered for a post on one of the new capital classes. Maybe even the Claws of Gold."
"I wasn't born yesterday, Eyes of Green." replied the other, shaking her head. "You don't just volunteer to be on a capital, and space transfers don't come on red paper."
"They do if you get a chip." Green said, putting the letter down on the table where the other Avian could read it. "Logistics posting as a volunteer Assistant."
"Wow." The other Avian took a large bite out of her sandwich, chewing over the contents of the letter for a moment. "You volunteered to become a grey?"
Eyes of Green shrugged. "I'm treated as one down here anyway. Might as well be treated as one on a combat ship."
"Fair. When do you... uh..." The other waved her hand, trying to come up with a more graceful term than the ones used colloquially. "You know, get the thing put in your head."
"Tomorrow." Green folded up the letter and stuffed it back into the jacket pocket of his uniform. "Nice and early."
With a shrug, the other tossed the last bit of her sandwich into her beak. "Well, it's been good serving with you. Enjoy space, I guess."
"Thanks." Green said, getting up to leave. "If they let me remember, I'll have to send back letters saying what it's like up there."
He knew they wouldn't. Volunteer Assistants were still Assistants, and that means their old lives and memories were filed away like his old identity was going to be.

He guessed that there wasn't meant to be this much ceremony in it, but he didn't mind. The Agent that he met with beforehand was kind, although he had to guess that it was from the Accord Navy officer sitting beside her.
"Sign here." the Agent had said, turning the folder towards him with a pen sitting on it.
"Internal Affairs are very fond of their paperwork." said the Navy officer, giving a slight smile towards him.
He nodded, not quite sure how to respond, and signed the document.
"The Accord is thankful for your dedicated service, and is proud to offer you the rank of Communications Officer." said the officer.
He didn't remember much after that. There was probably more they discussed, but none of it was coming to him. Whatever they'd given before the chipping procedure made everything into a blur, and the chip's deepening grasp on his mind further pushed away any clarity of even the recent past. The next thing he knew, he'd waken up in his storage pod, head still filled with a dull ache. Awakeness didn't last long, and he fell back into slumber soon enough.

"Oh, uh. Captain, didn't expe-"
Captain Black strode into the hangar area, her Assistant nearly having to run to keep up with the tall Avian. "Are you really offering the Claws of Gold her best, Agent?"
"I- I'm restricted by who volunteers, Captain." replied the other. "I am sure you realise it's difficult to-"
"Shut up." replied the captain, holding up a hand. "Command told me you had another potential Communications Officer -- which I wasn't informed of, I'll mention -- and I'm running out of time."
"Er, this one?" The Agent sounded unsure as he glanced over at the silver pod. "Yes, we do, but they have no space experience, and you said you w-"
"They've come recommended."
"...sure." replied the Agent, sounding uncomfortable. "They all, do, though, usually their commanding officers take pity on them."
"The letter of recommendation is from Admiral Grey." Black turned towards the pod and stepped forward, looking over the polished silver shell. "Pity or not, it's good enough for me."
"Well, if you want to take them, go ahead..." replied the Agent. "I can have him delivered tomorrow."
The Captain tapped her foot against the concrete floor in thought. "Too long, we set off this afternoon. What's his name?"
"Tornis, ma'am."
Black waved to her Assistant to get her attention, and leaned in towards the etched serial on the pod. "Get the techs ready for integration with 0000-007-7BDFH4G6, identifier Tornis. Also, find me a copy of his file."
"Yes, ma'am." replied the Assistant, before swiftly disappearing.
"This afternoon? But I didn't think the Claws of Gold was launch ready yet?" The Agent turned to look at the ship in its drydock, sections of armoured plating missing from its frame. "It doesn't even have a full set of weapo-"
"We're going to war, Agent." Black said, keeping her gaze on the pod. "I don't intend on missing out on any of it."

Once fully integrated, the techs held their breath and switched back on Tornis's consciousness.
Almost immediately, he sat up as if awaking from a dream, the ship connected to his mind rumbling as gyros span and the engines sparked. The techs immediately pushed him back down against the white table he was placed on, and the movements of the ship ceased.
"Hey, just relax." said one of the techs, gesturing for another to get a jacket. "You might feel weird, but that's okay, everything went fine."
"Hrrgh..." mumbled Tornis, only half awake. "What... where am I?"
"Aboard the AAC Claws of Gold." said Black, walking up to the table. "You were chosen as my Communications Officer."
Tornis laughed and relaxed himself on the table. "Very... very funny."
Captain Black raised an eyeridge, but one of the techs was quick to remind her that the Assistant likely wasn't fully aware of their surroundings yet. "I can assure you this isn't a joke, Tornis."
The Assistant's eyes shot open, head turning to the Captain. He hadn't heard his identifier spoken before, but he knew it was right as soon as he heard it. "Wh-" The chip kicked in and instantly gave him knowledge of the one that was standing next to him. "Oh, uhm, Captain Eyes of Black, I'm so sor-"
The Captain held up her hand to quiet him. "Don't worry about it, comms." She nodded at one of the techs, who began helping Tornis up off the table, another dropping the longcoat over his shoulders. "I'm surprised you've kept your stomach so far, the other candidates lost it the moment they woke up."
Now that she mentioned it, Tornis didn't feel exactly well, but the coat did help the shivers that were beginning to shake his body. "Uh huh..." he replied, head drifting to the floor, just in case the urge overwhelmed him. The grey uniform he was wearing was almost a surprise, but he really should have expected it to be on him by now.
"We begin the launch process in a few hours." Black replied as she begun digging for something in her coat pockets. "There is something to attend to first, though."
Tornis looked up to see Eyes of Black holding a small box wrapped in black felt. She opened it up to reveal a set of grey and green fabric bars, backed by a pin. He'd never seen such a thing before, but the chip pushed the knowledge of what it was into his mind. It was the rank bars of an Assistant officer. Black picked it out, opened the pin with her thumb, and stuck it to Tornis’s uniform, right above the serial number on his chest.
“Welcome to the crew of the AAC Claws of Gold, Communications Officer Tornis."