Star Warrior

Dear, Harry (Little Bro).

I’m about to head out on what might be my last mission. So the Commanders say, anyway. Not because my job is nearly done, but this one, they reckon, is more dangerous than all the previous missions combined.

Too many unknowns: Unusually long hypersleep, an uncharted sector, limited intel on the enemy.

They’ve suggested I should write my story down before I go. Something for you to read when you’re old enough.

I haven’t got long, so I’ll keep it brief. Here goes:

My name is Jack (Big Bro). 12 years old. Star Warrior.

Mum just said not everyone will know what a Star Warrior is when we’re gone. So I guess I’ll start there.

Me and a few other kids were born with special abilities. We’re not magic superheroes, or mutants, or any of that made-up stuff. We’re just able to survive travel through outer space where adults and most other kids can’t go. Something in our genes, the Commanders say. We’re able to travel at the speed of light, which would kill normal people like you (you haven’t got it, they checked when you were born), but I can go for you, so don’t worry. 

It’s hard work going to deep space. It’s really exhausting, and travelling at the speed of light gives you amnesia, so you can’t remember anything when you get back. The Commanders monitor everything, though, so they tell you how you did. How many aliens we got, if any got away, or if we couldn’t find any at all. That happens sometimes, too.

Anyway, Star Warriors are sent on missions to protect our Solar System from invasion. Aliens is one way to describe the invaders, but they’re not green-headed, bug-eyed martian men like in movies. These aliens are like weird, black, sponge things. Like what you’d find in the deepest, darkest ocean somewhere. Some are really small, like you can barely see them at all. Some are bigger, like a golf ball. And even though that seems pretty small, if they get inside you: that’s it. You’re toast.

So me and some other Star Warriors go on these missions to find them, and destroy them, so they don’t get to people like you and Mum and Dad—and anyone else who can’t defend themselves.

All the missions are launched from the Command Centre. 

The Command Centre is about 2 hours’ drive from our house, but because we spend so much time here, Mum and Dad sold our place and moved into a smaller apartment nearby. I miss our old house, but I really didn’t get to spend much time there. See, even when I’m not completing missions, I have heaps to do to recover and prepare for the next one. I’m so tired ALL the time. With so many missions, none of the Star Warriors see home much at all.

You won’t remember it, but your room was awesome. I gave you a few of my old posters for your walls. We have to share a room at the new place. At least we get a bunk bed, which is cool. I’m on top, though. And don’t even think about using it when I’m on missions. I’ll know.

Yeah, so, we all pretty much live at the Command Centre so they can keep us prepped for the next mission. They never know when the invaders might launch an attack.

Mum and Dad visit me pretty much every day, but Mum had to go back to work because my Star Warrior salary doesn’t cover the rent. I really need to speak to the Commanders about a pay rise.

It’s dangerous business, after all.

Nearly every week another Star Warrior doesn’t come back. I had a mate, Billy, he did 17 missions before an alien finally got him. SEVENTEEN! Some don’t even survive their first. He was starting to show signs of too much hypertravel. Your hair falls out, you lose lots of weight, you don’t really look like a kid anymore. My hair got a bit patchy so I shaved it. Most of us do. Even the girls. But that’s the price we pay for protecting the Solar System. You can see my ribs, which is so cool. And I have awesome scars from where the aliens nearly got me. I’ll get Mum to take heaps of photos so you can show them off to your mates.

The Commanders are saying I’ve gotta go, but that’s the other sweet thing about being a Star Warrior: they let you get away with way more stuff than normal kids. Like, last week, I met a famous movie star. I didn’t recognise him, but all the Command staff were pretty excited. And another Star Warrior got taken to Disneyland. I’m not all that interested in Disneyland myself—it’s for kids—but Lilly was right into it. She didn’t have to line up for rides or anything.

So, yeah, it’s dangerous, but there’s plenty to like about being a Star Warrior. Now that I think about it, I feel bad you don’t get to be one. Haha, sucked in, Little Bro.

Back in a sec, I’ve got the mission briefing now.

OK, I’m back. Was pretty intense. Mum and Dad seem pretty scared, but I’m cool. It’s like they forget I'm a veteran now. 12 missions to date. Lucky 13 launches this afternoon.

They’re right, though. The Commanders, that is. Like I was saying at the beginning, it’s way more dangerous. They’ve detected alien activity in a new sector and it’s going to be really hard to get to. Nearly twice as long in hypersleep as what I’ve done so far. And when I get there, they can’t really tell me much about what I’m going to be dealing with. Or how to beat it. I’m just going to have to do my best. That’s the other thing about Star Warriors. There’s really no training we can do. It’s all guts and instinct. They say you’ve got it, or you don’t.

They don’t know how or why I do. No one else in our family has it. I'm just lucky, I guess.

They keep going on about how ‘brave’ I am. Like I have any other choice. When you’re a Star Warrior, you just have to put on your uniform, get in the chair, and get on with the mission. 

‘Uniform’. Ha. It’s so wimpy. It’s this gown like a big shirt you wear backwards. It’s open at the back and your arse hangs out. Some of the Command staff think it’s hilarious when I let it all hang out the back. If you’re wondering how I fight aliens with my arse hanging out, I don’t. It’s just what we wear to get us into the shuttle where they keep the spacesuits. If I don’t come back, make sure you get my suit. Especially if an alien impregnates me and bursts out of my guts. And make sure they don’t clean it. It will look awesome in our room.

Oh, god. Mum is crying again. It’s actually embarrassing now. Like, Mum. Chill. I’ve got this.

She worries about these missions more than I do. I have to say, she looks like shit. Nearly as rough as me, I reckon! Dad never says anything. You’ll get used to that, though.

Anyway, Little Bro. This is me signing off for Star Mission 13. I’m sure I’ll be back, but just in case I don’t see you, look after Mum and Dad for me. And it was awesome to hang out with you for a year at least. You’re all right for a baby.

Jack.

Star Warrior. 

***

Dear, Jack (Big Bro).

Sorry it’s taken me so long to write back. Mum only found your letter again yesterday. 15 years later... Better late than never, though, right?

In her defence, I lost it. Still hopeless with that stuff. I’m wearing my third school jumper this year. Mum doesn’t buy new ones anymore. Just gets the second-hand ones from lost and found.

Anyway, I’m rambling. Still hopeless with that, too.

Before I lost it, Mum read me your letter whenever I asked her to. Now I’m old enough, I’m writing back to it. I’m not good with words like you, but I owe you a response at the very least.

Thanks for fighting as long as you did. I know it took a lot out of you. Don’t worry, Mum showed me photos of your scars after I finally wore her down. Pretty impressive, man. I didn’t get your spacesuit, they said it didn’t make it back. At least I’ve got your posters. And the top bunk. Sucked in yourself.

Dad’s still not living here, but at least he and Mum are talking again. I’d like to think I had something to do with that. I’m no Star Warrior, but it’s something I guess.

The Commanders were wrong, Big Bro. 13 wasn’t your last mission, just like you said. Of course, you didn’t survive Mission 13, so I’ll fill you in.

Even though you couldn’t kill that new invader that attacked your brain, you were such an awesome Warrior, you still had a whole lot worth keeping. The Commanders gave your heart to another Star Warrior, Bella. So while you’ll be pissed that the last invader got the best of you, rest easy knowing you saved Bella’s life. Mum keeps in touch with her family a fair bit. Bella’s still fighting thanks to you. I guess in a way that means you're still fighting, too. If you're going to get someone's heart, you can't do better than the heart of a Star Warrior.

I don’t know how to get this letter to you, so I’m going to give it to Bella. Hopefully she can get it up to you somehow on her next mission.

Thanks for watching out for me when I was a baby and making sure the invaders didn’t get me or Mum or Dad. We owe you, mate. And even though you think it’s no big deal, you’re still the bravest person I’ll ever know. Shame we couldn’t hang out while I was old enough to remember. See you in the stars, Star Warrior.

Harry.