The Draven's Residence, The Nest,
754 miles North from San Francisco,
Earth.
The loud wail of the settlement's sirens woke James up with a start. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned then waited for the siren to stop before he moved from his lying position. Drowsily, he turned to look at the rusty alarm clock beside the bed stand and was horrified by the time. He was already twenty minutes late for his task. Howling at his bad luck and silently cursing himself for oversleeping, he ran into the bathroom, eager to commence his morning rituals.
Undressing, he stepped into the bathtub and turned on the mechanical faucet. After wrestling with the faucet for a while, he was finally able to get it running, and water gushed out of the perforated holes profusely. As the water ran down in ripples on his body, he couldn't help but experience this feeling of helplessness and angst. His planet was under extraterrestrial tyranny and his future looked bleak and uncertain.
It all came back to him, images flashing randomly across his mind, reminding him of the carnage and violence that had ruptured in the aftermath of the BlackOut. The chaos he had witnessed as a seven year-old boy fleeing with his family alongside other families, as alien spaceships rained death in San Francisco. He recalled the early days of the Nest, during its struggles to accommodate and provide for refugees that fled to them for protection.
The Nest was one of the military bases operating in the unoccupied regions. Built eleven years ago, it was capable of catering for the needs of some thirty nine thousand refugees and military personnel. Like all other military survival camps, it was governed by the military, under the command of Colonel Monty Hunters. There were hundreds of military camps like the Nest, scattered across the United States. Their objectives were simple- gather and protect refugees, scavenge for resources in deserted towns and win back territories from the aliens using guerilla warfare.
Trying to ignore his feeling of depression and gloom, James stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist. He entered and looked around the bedroom, he noticed his brother's absence for the first time since he woke up. John wasn't on the bed and neither was the bed unkept, which was really odd. Being a deep sleeper, it is always James' duty to wake his brother up, a self-inflicted responsibility that seemed too Herculean for him, at times.
The two lads were a source of joy and pride to their parents, especially their mother, but both competed for the favour of their father. They had a few misunderstandings and quarrels, a 'little aggro' as John called it, but they were minor issues that were always viewed as brotherly rivalry and eventually resolved. Wondering about his brother's absence, James began to dress up for the day. He selected a pair of perfectly pleated khaki pants, his favorite blue shirt and one of his trainers.
Glancing at the wall clock, he knew he would be very late for his D-task if he stayed for breakfast, and so decided to go hungry. The D-tasks were a series of daily services and jobs, teenagers had to complete each day to promote the development and safety of the Nest, as well as keep them busy and not idle. The military knew of the tendency that teenage minds were easily compelled to break laws when bored, and the program was set up. The program also helped with the NX-GEN policy. The policy enforced the conscription of teenagers from age sixteen into the military service, to train them in the art of war and prepare them for the future ahead. They were the only hope humanity had, to break free from alien tyranny and send the occupation packing. And to safeguard that hope, the next generation were meant to be equipped effectively with all the skills required to survive.
At first, the program was meant to accept male volunteers but after a few mishaps in the settlement, coupled with the few volunteers available, the program became compulsory and involved both genders.
The teenagers spent three years handling arms, going on few espionage and scouting missions, participating in mock battles and taught in every aspect relevant to modern warfare. The D-tasks helped in grading the conscripts, who would then be promoted and assigned to one of the corps or military units in the settlement, based on their performance.
Going down to the dining room, in the small apartment allotted to them by the military, James met his parents breaking fast. His father was seated on the table, dressed in his military uniform, as he chomped down the toast bread and omelette. Mother sat beside him, reading an outdated health magazine, her meal half eaten. John wasn't at the table, and the table was set only for three persons. As he reached the foot of the stairs, he heard his dad mumbling about the recent influx of refugees into the settlement and the result being overpopulation, shortage of supplies and subsequent rationing of resources.
".....got a hundred and forty-seven last week. Can you imagine that? A hundred and forty-seven!"
"I don't mean to be rude or discriminating, but why now? Why are they migrating from the OCRs now, after twelve years?" His mother inquired, still leafing through the magazine.
"Good morning Mum, Dad." James greeted and pecked her cheek before moving into the kitchen to get a bottle of water.
"They came with tales of discord, killings of extraterrestrials and reprisal attacks on innocent civilians, detainment of individuals without reason and disregard to human rights apparently," His father continued after answering his greetings.
"How will they respect human rights when they aren't humans themselves?" She asked rhetorically. Her husband merely shrugged and sipped his mug of coffee.
When she noticed he wasn't approaching the table, she called out to him. "Are you skipping breakfast too, Jay?"
"Yes, Mum. I'm already late for my D-task. I don't want to get sanctioned. Where's John?" He asked as he put the bottle inside his bagpack.
"He went out early. Around 6am or so. Claims its 'cause of his D-task with the RavenCorps. Wonder why a D-task would be so serious to skip breakfast," She scowled.
"C'mon, Katie. The boys are doing their bit for the Nest, as I am. What's your D-task, Jamie?"
"Eagle duty. East Tower 11. I haven't checked who I'm paired with. I was really sleepy from yesterday," He answered quickly as he zipped his bag.
"That's okay. It's understandable. I feel really sleepy, myself." He nodded and winked.
He smiled and picked his bag, heading for the door then stopped. He turned around and observed his father's relaxed posture, which was really rare.
"Aren't you going to your unit today?"
"Not yet. Hunter called for a meeting today, but then shifted the time down to 11am, because of last night's bash. No need to go to the unit," He answered, checking his wrist watch.
Captain Brandon Draven was the head of the Claws Unit in the settlement. His Unit dealt specifically with the defenses of the Nest. Being one of the soldiers that fought during the TakeOver, he was equipped with some knowledge regarding the extra terrestrials and their weaponry. After his military objective of stopping the aliens from capturing San Francisco had failed he had rallied his troops to lead civilians to the military base, creating the catalyst for the emergence of the Nest.
James exited the apartment. Like all the other families, the military had assigned the apartment to his family and were working overtime to ensure that there was adequate shelter for all the refugees, but James knew there where those who had no where to sleep. The number of migrating humans into the Nest was increasing at an alarming rate. At first, it seemed the surge of new settlers might influence and affect the crime rate in the Nest, but the authorities had set up some measures to prevent breakdown of laws. First, there was the orientation process, where the rudiments of the Nest were explained. The newbies were then inducted into the settlement and obliged to forget their past. In the Nest, discipline and caution with the watchwords. Criminal offenders were severely dealt with and detained for a while, regardless of the severity of the crime committed. The military didn't see these as a disrespect of human rights, but as a means of reducing anarchy within the Nest.
He passed a booth where some refugees were queuing up to collect their weekly rations. Some soldiers were standing guard over the booth and queue, to enforce orderliness, armed with AK-47s. On the sleeves of their uniforms, a red beak was embroidered, signifying they were members of the Beak Unit which provided for the refugees.
There are several units in the settlement to oversee different operations; GreenCorps were in charge of the sanitation and upkeep of the Nest, SparrowCorps supervised the constructions of buildings, facilities and defensive structures, EagleCorps had scouts on hand to monitor alien activity miles around the Nest, Claws Unit took on the defense of the Nest, HawkCorps were the policing unit of the settlement, RavenCorps were the technological department of the Nest, and the Rangers Units was the main fighting force of the settlement. Each worked like a cog in a wheel, complementing each other for effectiveness.
Cursing himself for waking up late, James hoped fervently that the D-tasks supervisor wasn't making his rounds in the towers, just yet. He ran the last metres towards the ladder that led up the platform and whistled to whoever was up there.
"You are late!" A voice called out to him.