Pip's Ophidian Book 1: Beatlebug & The Provider

Chapter 2: Dear Ol' Da

Pip's first memory was during an Ophidian strike.

He didn't know how old he'd been, but it must've been young. The adults all said Ophidian strikes were happening more frequently as of late, but even before this uptick they struck at least once after every raid.

His Da had been there, though. So it must've been before he turned 6.

The same thing that always happened had happened: bright lights gone, gravity out, red lights on, the blare of the alarm.

Panic.

Ma had snapped at Da to make Pip stop making that noise; as captain of The Provider, she had to go, and if she came back to find their quarters raided she'd know it was because Pip "couldn't keep calm and quiet."

She'd left and the lockdown of their quarters had initiated, metal grate clanging down before the doors had fully swished closed, and Da had left his post by the door and floated over to him.

Pip had been curled up. Floating through the air like a ball, and, he supposed, letting out the harsh never-ending whine he used to make when things got tough.

"There now, Pip. It's like a game, see? Yes, the Ophidians are on the ship. You can't expect them to attack us in other ways; their tech is not nearly advanced enough. They have no interest in us, though. They're here for whatever we took, or confiscated, however you wanna spin it. They'll go to the cargo bay, lots of excitement will go down, far from us, and we'll get a free turn in the anti-grav gym. Look!"

And then his Da had done a quite dramatic spin, and grabbed out of the air one of his toy ships and said, "It's alright, you know. We can breathe. We won't die. Yes, it's different, but I could get used to this different."

Then he'd bopped the ship over to Pip, who'd uncurled to catch it. It was so comforting. His Da hadn't snapped out. His Da hadn't tried to hold him. He'd explained it all like Pip wasn't an imbecile floating in the air letting out a whine that made him less than human.

And then, not so much later, he'd up and died. But the memory was better if it didn't move forward like that.

Back in the present, Pip took one hard breath, and then another. Free from his Ma's disapproving stare, he shut his eyes; flapped his hands for a moment. Curled his knees into his chest as he rolled slowly up into the air, surrendering to the lack of heaviness. Calm descended upon him. It'd be ok.

They'd just do the same thing they always did. He would be ok.

The doors swished open and suddenly little Eevee collided with him, bouncing back for a minute before letting out a squeaky whine and gripping his pant leg. Pip's heart softened as he unfurled.

"It's ok, dearie. It'll be ok. This happens. This happened a few months ago, remember? We'll lock the quarters down, float around for a while, the soldiers will-"

"Pip!" Ma's voice cut like a knife and he found himself quickly ramrod straight and at attention, even without gravity. "They're calling your class down. Move, soldier!"

Soldier.

Right. That's right. He was a soldier now.

Pip resisted, heavily, the urge to retch up tomatoes. All at once, despite floating easily through the air, it seemed gravity had gripped his stomach alone and left the rest of him hanging.

He detangled himself from Eevee and pushed shakily after his Ma.