Personal Log, 30 August 3303
31 Aug 2017User78245
The Alliance Defence Force is divided into two parts. You have the various system defence forces, "self" defence forces, militias, etc, who pool their resources and provide the bulk of the Alliance's firepower. With that comes a variance in quality, training, and discipline. Then you have the FTS, the so-called "real Navy". FTS's membership come from all around the Alliance working on a full time basis, answers only to the Council of Admirals, has at least one unit in every single member system, and is responsible for making sure the local forces know what direction to shoot. If you're looking for the elite part of the Alliance military, FTS is what you get. Kids in the Alliance have the option of working for their home system's forces, or joining FTS and getting stationed where ever. I chose to have my balls busted on a daily basis with FTS. I remember coming off a mission one evening. An Alliance-flagged Type-7 was hauling a full load of big ticket Lavian goods and because my wing was the FTS unit in what happened to be the last Alliance system near his route, I got tagged with babysitting him all the way to his destination. It had been a long day and I was in dire need of coffee.
"Shipmate, I need to talk to you." This from my division leader. Two things. First, "shipmate" is supposed to be a term of endearment in the ADF between two comrades who have served together on a ship or some other combat situation. It's a nod to esprit de corps. In actuality, seniors use it when they want to say "Hey, shithead!" to a junior without actually saying it. Second, I'm 90% sure my division leader would forget my name if it wasn't attached to my flight suit.
"Sir."
"How are you sitting with your transition?" It was well known that I wasn't overly thrilled with the ADF and planned to go into business for myself once my enlistment was up. The ADF has a legal obligation, however small, toward making sure their separating members can get on their feet sufficiently well enough that they aren't homeless or resorting to piracy.
"Going well sir. All I need is to walk out the door with my discharge."
"Excited to get back to the farm?", he asked.
No, absolutely not. My family owns a farm on Planet Lave, but I wasn't about to give up flying after fighting as hard as I did to get into it. It was obvious he only knew what is publicly available in my record and didn't remember anything we previously discussed.
"No. Sir."
"Ah?"
"Sir, if you recall the last five times we had this conversation, I've been working on the necessary civil certifications to apply with The Pilots Federation."
"Right..." Some people have a problem with The Pilots Federation, since their membership transcends borders. See them as little more than mercenaries. My division leader was one of them.
"Sir, we've been over this-"
"Shipmate. Do you have any realization of just how much is on my plate right now?"
"Sir, if I was in your position, I'd at least make an effort to know my people." ...There goes my mouth. This is why I was not cut out for the military, I just cannot suspend my disbelief.
"Yes, we'll talk about your thoughts in my office after you debrief."
And talk we did. I still think that if you're asking people to put their life on the line to perform your orders, the least you can do is remember what they're doing with their life. Not the first time I got my butt chewed, definitely not the last.
Which reminds me that I probably shouldn't bust my copilot's balls so much.