The war that had started on the outer rim worlds, had been raging for about a year before my call up papers arrived.
I had just turned 36. From that moment, I knew my life as I knew it, was over.
Arriving at the barracks, my name was checked off a list and I found myself in the hairdressers.
He did not take long to get my mane into regulation shape and from there I picked up my uniform from a surly teenager. What did he know?
The next few weeks was a blur of drills and inspections. Tight turns was the key apparently and our Commander would shout himself almost hoarse, making sure we adhered to that tenet.
“Come on, make those turns tighter. I do not give these orders out for fun.”
We practiced in teams and in large battalions. Each day blending into the next. I did get fitter though, my beer belly being replaced by a slightly smaller one. My thighs and ankles were almost steel like in construction. I was ready for the fight.
This war was in danger of lasting forever. We were the troops that they needed to turn the tide. They kept telling us this on a loop as our ship headed towards the nearest combat zone.
Looking out of the window into the depth of space, I could not help but compare the stars out there, with the sequins on my uniform.