A planet you've never heard of

[Leath Jens]

The morning run was over.

Leath stood naked in the shower, letting water cascade from his head down the rest of his body, rejuvenating him and preparing him for the rest of the day. It was his time of meditation and introspection that he'd carried with him for the past three years, ever since his days in the army. Those days were now past him, but in a way, they never really ended. He didn't wear a uniform anymore, but he couldn't quit the little things.

"Leath, don't wait around too long, we've got to get ready."

Faiy fixed her hair, watching him in her peripheral vision as she looked in the mirror. She smiled at him as he bathed, wondering what was going on in his head. The year he'd been back home had been so difficult. She wondered just how much of her husband had come home, and how much had been left behind.

Though he never talked about it, Leath knew he'd changed. He dismissed it, flippantly at times, but even he couldn't deny that something was wrong. He loved her, and she loved him, but there was something keeping him from opening his past to her. He'd kept the past three years at arm's distance, and at the same time painfully close. He'd carry his brooding rage hidden as best he could, but even then it would find a way out, and elicit the look of hurt in her eyes. Their marriage should be a happy one, but it was in trouble.

"Why do we have to make a big deal of it? Why do we have to have the families over, and a party?"

She stopped messing with her hair, and turned to him fully.

"Don't you want to see your brother again? I don't know why you're making this so hard."

Leath ran a hand through his wet hair, throwing it backwards in a quick motion as he spat water.

"All he's gonna deal with are questions he won't want to talk about."

Faiy reached into the shower and cut the water, standing to look at her husband as he dripped dry.

"We all miss him, can you blame us? I know I felt the same way when you came home."

She searched his eyes for a sign of understanding, and Leath sighed as he pressed the water from his hair.

"No."

He relented, deferring to his wife as he put away ancient feelings. She read right through his eyes, and knew he'd done so, but gave him a smile anyway. Her slender hand reached through the threshold, clasping around one of his water-wrinkled hands.

"At least he's got his big brother to keep all of us nosy well-wishers grounded, right?"

Leath's smile broadened as he leaned in for a kiss.

"Right."

He stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel, kissing Faiy again and moving for an embrace.

"Leath no! You'll get me wet!"

He pulled up short and they both laughed, punctuated with a kiss. One pleasant distraction in many. In the adjacent room, a baby began to cry, as the parents' eyes looked in the noise's direction. Faiy patted a hand on Leath's chest.

"Go on, get ready. I'll go feed our hungry little pig."

[Douglas Jens]

Doug was coming home.

The lengthy maglev train cut cleanly through expansive flats and rolling fields. It caught the morning sun and its snaking metal body shimmered like a pearly white stream amongst the greenery. There being no fuel to burn and no moving engine parts, the train slipped by with a whisper of wind in perfect harmony with its natural surroundings; such is the way of things on Chandrila. The towering spires of Hanna City sunk into the horizon and other than woodland and hills there was nothing to be seen and nor would there be until the afternoon. It was 0900 hours.

Doug watched the world roll by with fleeting interest. This was the seventh time he'd made the journey, the previous six had been made over two years during his leave of the Brionelle Memorial Military Academy. Four hours previous he had arrived at the academy to be debriefed along with his friends, then they said farewell and went their separate ways until next called upon. He caught the recruits staring, they murmured as he passed, and the transparency of the charade was made painfully clear. Officially he was Lance Corporal Jens of the Chandrila Defense Corps, unofficially he was part of something else, something which involved entire battalions of men disappearing for months at a time. That wasn't a charade, it was a joke.

He folded an olive green wedge cap on the table, it was part of his service uniform and while the attire was wholly unnecessary, on top of being itchy and warm, his mother liked to see him in it. And they hadn't seen each other in eight months. His stomach knotted and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat; it was hard to believe that, of all things, the thought of seeing loved ones again made him anxious. On the neighbouring seat was a rucksack, he prized it open and lifted out a lightweight datapad called the Companion 2000, it was battered around the edges and the screen was marred with fine scratches. After a few seconds, it booted up and flickered to life. Tapping the screen, he opened his inbox and selected the most recent message:

Hello son,

We were thrilled to recieve your last letter and glad to hear things are looking up - running water and flushing toilets? Such luxury! They're beginning to spoil you boys, perhaps a stint on your father's farm will whip you into shape after all this lounging around in the desert. I bet you have such a tan now, your sister will be so jealous.

Speaking of whom, Linnie aced her history final, we figure she takes after you for that and now she's demanding something extra special to wear to the junior prom - the little princess! She's growing up fast, I'll be sad to see her go, my algebra lessons won't be the same without her giggling fits. She's looking forward to seeing you again and plans on making something for you too, but I can't spoil the surprise! What I can tell you is that I plan on spoiling you rotten with stacks of namana pancakes and bottomless jugs of butterbeer! And don't try to tell me you've grown out of them because I know that sweet tooth of yours, mister...

By the way, keep your diary clear for when you come home, your father has hired extra hands and is allowing Uncle Marlon to keep an eye on things(risky, I know) so he can take you and your brother out hunting Blackbacks. He promises not to take you fishing this time, which I'm sure will come as a relief. He also told me that he saw a report on GNN last night, it said .................................................. .................................................. ........... So we expect to see you soon.

Your brother says "Wahai" and wants you to know that the Cowboys beat the Hornets 36-12, O'Kreegie scored in the last minute apparently. "Finally," he says. Faiy sends her love, motherhood really suits her, she's practically aglow. Leath on the other hand, I think he said that he's had better night's sleep taking cover from atillery on Iago III, but for all his talk he makes a fine father. Like your dad.

Once again, I'm guilty of going over the word limit so I'll have to end this letter here. We send all our love and support, and as always, we keep you in our hearts. Take care, son. We'll see you soon.

Love Mom.

The gnawing anxiety was replace by a swell of warmth in his chest, he was smiling broadly, and scrolled through the letter one last time before tucking the datapad away. Fishing through his rucksack, he emptied its contents onto the table; a diary, sealed envelopes, a hip flask belonging to his brother, and a fresh change of underwear. Finally he found what he was looking for - a small curved metal disc resembling a pebble. The rest went back into the bag, the unopened letters last, he double-checked the addresses:

FAO The Editor, The Hanna Herald
420-445 Balmgrass Terrace
Hanna City
H-02 1702

FAO The Editor, The Chandrila Informant
144-168 Central Plaza
Hanna City
H-01 0121

FAO The Editor, The Daily Datapad
201-213 Overlook Avenue
Hanna City
H-11 9922

The letters were folded away delicately between the pages of a recruitment brochure. He zipped the rucksack shut and fixed his attention on the small device sat in the centre of the table. First he gave a cautionary glance up and down the length of the carriage, there were few passangers and none within close proximity, so figuring the coast was clear, he slouched in his seat and switched it on. A series of small emitters blinked to life, eight of them in total, glowing like cat's eyes. There was a low burbling hum as a cone of pale blue light opened up before him and within it, an image took shape.

Faint and fuzzy at first, the image flickered and gained clarity until at last the small figure of a young woman stood before him. She was turned away, posing in flimsy underwear with her hands on her hips, her bottom wiggled, the lines of her bare back arched gracefully with the contours of her body. The image grew so that she was only visible from the waist up; she turned suddenly and silently screamed, affording him a brief glimpse of a pair of voluptuous bouncing breasts. He grinned to himself. The holo girl's arms folded across her chest in a desperate attempt to keep her dignity but her prudish facade wilted into laughter. She poked an accusing finger in his direction and although there was no sound it was clear she was trying to reprimand the voyeur. Long blond hair poured out from under a beret which being clearly a couple of sizes too big, sat lopsided on her brow. She gave a salute, her hips swayed, and Doug found himself laughing along with her as she bent double, crushing her breasts under one hand and repressing her giggles with the other, caught somewhere between embarrassed innocence and the thrill of promiscuity. Finally she relented, and dropped her guard, approaching the voyeur with an irresistable smile and mischief dancing in her eyes. The image froze, flickered, then started all over.

Doug watched the holo play out, somewhere in his gut a battle was being waged between conflicting feelings of heart-racing excitement and buttock-clenching fear. His fingers groped fondly at something which sat in the breast pocket of his jacket, he probed at its fine edges and allowed his mind to wander as he watched the girl again and considered the possibilites of the future. And as the hovertrain sped him onwards, he felt like the land which rushed past the window was wrapping itself around him and closing in for a happy embrace, welcoming him home. He fell asleep.

[Leath Jens]

The smell of kiifa filled the kitchen as Leath ambled in, now fully dressed in a pair of slacks and a button-up.

"Smells good."

The minced dewback meat casserole with spice sauce and dried fruit was a perennial regular of just about every Chandrillan country dinner, and always Leath's favorite. He stood at the counter, like a perched carrion bird, looking for the opening to pilfer a piping hot bite. Faiy knew better, and kept her husband on a tight leash.

"Come on Lea, wrap that up will you? I've got the sweetrolls."

She pretended not to notice as Leath nicked a forkful of the casserole before wrapping the rest in an insulated sheet. He carefully negotiated carrying the kiifa in one arm and his son Riley in the other. They locked up behind them, and stepped out onto the porch. Leath's shiny new sport speeder gleamed in the morning sun, set against the sprawling fields ahead. A narrow dirt trail, beaten down by traffic to and from the house and the nearest country road, separated rows of kiernelstalk from rows of gnarled green veek. Leath's conspicuous speeder was hardly the norm for a farmer, but he'd managed to pay half down for it from his military stipend when he finished service. Faiy said it was a waste of good money, but she loved to ride with the canopy down. It reminded her of the heady days when they'd first started dating. For Leath, it was one way of keeping the volume up in a life that had become used to a deafening roar.

"Can't wait to show Dougy the speeder huh?"

Faiy smiled as she pushed the front passenger seat up to allow her in the less roomy back. She secured Riley in his travel seat beside her, and arranged the foodstuffs in the floorboard and passenger seat up front. She would've liked to take her roomier vehicle, but they could squeeze in well enough.

Leath adjusted the mirror and smiled as he pushed the ignition. The Sorosuub speeder gently lifted a little higher off the ground, and began the effortlessly quick glide down the driveway, and to the main road.

"Heh, he'll flip. We used to oogle Sorosuubs in Hanna City. I'm sure he'll want to go out and race the first thing we pass on a repulsordrive."

It made Leath think of the time they'd taken dad's old Racha coupe and put their combined harvest paychecks into souping it up behind the old man's back. They took a weekend to Hanna City, found a Sorosuub, and raced it. Not only did they lose by a near quarter click, they also got a speeding citation. Explaining that to dad took a lot of guts.

His smile waned a little. It was funny. They'd grown up so deathly sick of the boredom and sameness of being born into a family of country farmers that they tried their entire lives to milk every drop of adrenaline that Chandrila had to offer. In the end, it wasn't enough.

Now they were back home, after having more of it than a lifetime could soak in. Leath wondered if it had sunk in four Dougy yet? He'd slept through more nights of danger close bombardments than he cared to remember. His first night of still-quiet on the farm was terrifying for reasons he couldn't begin to explain to anybody but Dougy.

"Leath, Gods, slow down!"

He blinked, and eased his foot off the accelerator, only then realizing he'd let the speed creep past 300 kph. He looked at Faiy, licking his wind-parched lips as he brought the speeder back to a comfortable cruise.

"Sorry bout that. Just excited, I guess."

Sometimes on those death-quiet nights on Chandrila, he snuck out to drive. He drove for a hundred kilometers at a time or so, pushing the needle as far as his foot could push, to the limits of his engine. If he lost control and smashed his speeder into a million pieces, would he even see it coming? Would he feel it?

[Douglas Jens]

"Private Jens?"

"Sir, yes, sir."

The Warrant Officer's pen scratched the paper on his desk with such vigor the table trembled. Outside the hut, rain battered the windows and drummed upon the roof. His writing stopped and he looked up. Stood to attention in the centre of the room was a young man dressed in a pair of plain white shorts and a matching t-shirt, he was soaked through and a puddle was forming at his feet. His forearms and knees were caked in thick mud, his clothes were streaked brown and his hair was also matted with filth. The wooden chair groaned under the officer's weight as he leaned back, assessing the private; there was a cut on his lip and one above his eye, the other was half-closed, swollen. The blood on his shirt had turned pink in the rain.

"Do you know why you have been sent to me, private?" he said, rank unmistakeable in his deep, gravelly, baritone voice.

"Sir, yes, sir," answered the youngster, his hoarse voice quavered.

"No, you don't. You might think you do but you don't so I'll make it clear. This is your second major infraction, private, and as per the rules and regulations of the Defence Corps, it means you're out."

"Sir, I-"

"Did I give you permission to speak?" he snapped.

He rose out of his chair and filled the room. Warrant Officer Hogan was an enormous man; his shoulders blocked doorways and he had hands like a wampa, and with thirty years of service behind him, he commanded the respect of everyone at the academy. Doug stood frozen in his gaze, Hogan's deep set eyes appeared black against his copper skin, and he could feel their cold scrutiny from head to foot. Slowly, the Warrant Officer rounded his desk.

"Out. That means no formal reprimands, no getting chewed out by drill instructors, and most definitely, no private meetings with me."

Their eyes met, he shook his head and continued: "Your records say you're a promising marksman, in excellent physical shape, and apparently, you're not too dumb either. Now, Gunnery Sergeant Rhaghir thinks you can yet be salvaged. Know what I think?"

In a single step, Warrant Officer Hogan closed the space between them and peered down. The floorboards creaked under their feet. Doug kept his eyes fixed forward, finding his entire field of view obstructed by a mountainous chest, and kept perfectly still. His superior officer's voice sunk to a whisper and was still so deep he felt it reverberate inside his chest as if it were made of wood.

"When I look at you, I see just another farmboy with an education and a chip on his shoulder. You think that because you studied hard you deserve a ticket off this rock to better things. You want a way out? Well, the Corps is a way in. And now that you're here, you think you have something to prove but let me tell you this: you haven't got what it takes to become half the soldier your brother is, you're just little Dougy farmboy, and you're way out of your league."

The sudden silence rang in Doug's burning ears. His rigid body convulsed with short, sharp breaths and his jaw was locked. Part of him was furious and wanted to break something, the other part felt vulnerable and exposed, like a kid who'd pissed his pants in class, shutting out the laugter of his peers as he ran out the room. But this time he couldn't run, he was forced to face his shortcomings, and he looked up.

"Private Jens, it takes more than hard work to become a soldier, you have to be ready. When you're in the dren, hunkered down in a hole on the edge of nowhere surrounded by the enemy, comforted only by the sounds of exploding bombs and the dying cries of your friends, can you look me in the eye right now and tell me you will be ready? Will you be ready to see death? Will you be ready to kill? Private, will you be ready to die?"

"Sir-"

"Sir?"

He blinked, golden light crashed through the window and he winced, rubbing his eyes, becoming aware of the low hum of nearby chatter. He was on the train. There were people all around. A sinking feeling in his gut prompted him to lunge forward suddenly and grasp for the holo-emitter on the table - it was off - he studied it, relieved. It was only then his attention was drawn to a smartly dressed woman hovering over him, she wore a blue skirt suit and a white blouse, tidy curls of chestnut hair brushed her cheek and a large pair of black-rimmed spectacles balanced gingerly on the edge of her button nose.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but would you like some refreshment?"

"Uh," Doug muttered, checking his chrono, he had been asleep for three hours, "Khuna-barisa?"

"It's the next stop, sir, we'll be arriving in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you," he said, immediately straightening up in his seat, "Do you have a Whyren's Reserve? A double, please."

This elicited a look from the elderly couple now sat opposite him at the table, and he caught the young lady giving him a similar look from over her spectacles. He smiled brightly, a carefree, disarming kind of smile.

"I could do with a little Corellian courage, right now," he said, giving her a wink.

While waiting for his drink, Doug found himself preoccupied with a family sat at the adjacent table. The parents looked only a few years older than Leath, the father was bouncing his infant daughter on his knee, he was singing to her and she giggled. The hairs on the back of Doug's neck stood on end, and he watched, transfixed. They had a four year old son who clung to the window, his mother was helping him identify the animals they saw in the fields and occassionally he siezed a toy pistol from the table and shot one of them. A husky voice snapped him out of his stupor.

"Twelfth Regiment?" asked the elderly man sat opposite.

"That's right, sir," said Doug, surprised, "How-?"

"First Sergeant Obrias. Sixteenth Infantry Regiment. Ten years."

That was how the conversation started. When the girl returned with his whiskey, he insisted he bought the old man and his wife a drink, they were quite content to share a pot of tea. In the fifteen minutes that followed, he and Mr. Obrias shared stories about the academy, spoke briefly about where they grew up and where they were stationed but most of all, Doug was happy to listen to stories of his life after the service; how Mr. Obrias had met his wife, Elise, on a rainy day in Hanna City when they decided to share a cab, how they settled down so he could finish his education in dentistry and set up a surgery in his home town, how they had a son who had taken over the family business and now had a son of his own. By the time the train rolled into Khuna-barisa, he felt a warm buzz and had left his apprehension behind, admittedly, this was partly due to the alcohol but his chance meeting with an ex-soldier and his charming wife had brightened an already blissfully sunny day. They said farewell, and as Doug slipped past, Mr. Obrias turned and tapped him on the arm.

"Oh, and son, good luck with the girl," he muttered, and with a sly grin, cupped his hands, "She seems quite a handful!"

"Jorge!" Elise yelped, and slapped him on the back.

Quite red-faced, Doug stepped out onto the busy platform and slung a hefty duffel bag over his shoulder. He stood amidst a sea of happy reunions and teary farewells, looking for a familiar face.

[Leath Jens]

They'd arrived at Khuna-barisa with about two minutes to spare, according to the posted train arrivals. Leath found a berth forgiving enough to ease the extended profile of his speeder into, and idled the engine as the repulsors eased down. Killing the engine, he helped Faiy with Riley and the kiifa, and headed to the terminal.

"There's dad."

Leath pointed over to see a man with a balding head standing out among a group of others waiting for their friends and loved ones.

"Ahua, dad!"

He gave a wave to his old man, and Riley aped his wave with a clumsy but energetic wave of his own.

"Say Ahua, granddad."

"Ahua, ged-dad!"

The youngster squealed, as Leath's father and mother approached. They exchanged pleasantries with Leath and Faiy, and Leath's mother Hecha proceeded to spoil her grandson rotten with sweets, giving Leath time to disassociate himself with a peck to both Faiy and his mother's cheeks, as he passed off the kiifa and walked the line with his dad.

Away from the youngster, Leath had a stim in hand, lighting up with practice.

"Dougy's lev, eh?"

The older man lit up one of his own and nodded sagely.

"Reckon it's been a long time since both of my boys have been back home."

Leath said nothing, just smoked and nodded.

Candal, the eldest Jens, gave his son a squeeze on his shoulder. If there was anything Leath was going to say about it, he'd find time. No sense wringing his hands over it.

"I think it'll be good for both of you to have some time."

It was Candal's way of insisting Leath be the first to meet him. Leath looked back and his old man nodded.

"Don't dally about, your mom's got a spread back home and she'll want her turn with both of you."

Stim pressed between his lips, Leath gave his father a firm handshake.

"'ppreciate it, Pa."

He turned again to the platform, this time seeing passengers debarking in earnest. There was a face that, despite whatever regulation haircut and military cap framed it, would always look familiar and boyish. Leath's mouth grew into a broad smile.

"Haha, Ahua! Ahua Dougy!"