There was a pressurized hiss as a door unlatched and slid open. Its metal construction had allowed for the sealing of all air in between two rooms. These were everywhere throughout the orbiting space station, keeping those within alive and letting the computer life systems shift air flow from one room to the next, as to conserve it. It was a marvelous invention, a wondrous advancement that had contributed towards the ability for life to exist in space. So long as the station was trapped within the orbit of a planet it could survive on recycled air and the siphoning of elements from the space surrounding (which were impossibly scarce but still salvageable), alongside small biodomes for growing plants.

This particular station was stuck within Earth's orbit for much of eternity and served as a simple observation deck. It took readings of the atmosphere and, more often, would scan the land below to watch over the development of geography and of human growths. This one belonged to a group known as the Enian Federation, created in 2178 and launched into space, and each day it would watch the world below unfold with its myriad scanners and technological devices.

It was limited, though, to only observing those territories owned by the Enian Federation as the three other ruling groups on Earth had long since blanketed themselves with various signal jamming devices and so on. For this was not a peaceful planet, and it had not been for a long time. Since its division into the four major powers there had been ceaseless war as one side grew to higher power, only to be struck down by another or by a temporary alliance between the other governments. It was an endless struggle and it would be forever more, as each group strived to conquer all others.

A young scientist had passed through the metal door into the small biodome greenhouse to check upon the various vegetables growing there. All of these plants were hybrids now, modified in one way or another to adapt to different needs. Was there any original flora left on Earth? The scientist did not know. He had never seen any but every so often it was claimed and the specimen was placed in a museum but it was always later proven to be a hoax or error. The young man pressed himself against the glass of the station and peered down at Earth. It had never lost its grand beauty since man had first seen it from space and it probably never would. Not even the constant warfare of humanity could taint such natural glory. Behind the Earth, as though sheepishly peeking around a curtain, was the vibrant Sun, feeding the plants surrounding the scientist. It too held on to its image as the most brilliant star in the sky, forever more.

The intellectual watched a massive fireball spew off the surface of the Sun and, in mirror, a similar one burst off the Earth, so enormous he could spot it even from his celestial perch. It was created from a large bomb. War had broken out again. Battles would be fought and death would be rampant. In his effort to escape it all the young man had fled to space but even up here he could not avoid seeing it. He looked across to his left at another space station that had been launched into a similar orbit to his own. It was not an observation deck for scientific purposes though. It was a military academy and it always would be, because endless war required endless soldiers...

* * * * *

Porter was late. Again. Time after time he was late and he was scrambling through dull, metallic hallways on his way to class. His short, brown hair was sticking out in nearly every way as he flailed through the corridors, wind ruffling through his uniform and giving him a distraught look that was reflected in his chestnut eyes. The wind was self-generated though, only coming from moving so quickly, because this was space and these hallways were under pressured air locks. Like a big, fat, steel bubble.

The hurried teen, barely approaching manhood and the age of eighteen, skid on his heel around a corner, sparks shooting out underneath his foot and leaving a smoking black trail on the floor. But he couldn't keep it up and his balance snapped, turning him end over end and careening into a wall. He saw upside down students laughing at him as they walked past and headed into class. One of them, a short, blonde girl with massive blue eyes that seemed to consume her face and suck in your own, stopped and bent down in front of Porter's face.

"Porter, what are you doing?" Her voice was high in pitch and childish. She was just fifteen but an exceptional student and skipping ahead in grades. Her blonde hair fell down around her face and dangled down to just in front of where her little breasts were sitting. And Porter was staring at them. Yet again.

"I-I'm," He stuttered a little as he was flustered and flipped himself back to the right way. He had to shake his head though. What on earth was he doing checking out Nami? She was like his little sister. Sure, she had this strange schoolgirl crush on him and followed him all over but he certainly didn't have eyes for her and was usually prying her off his arm. He already had his eyes set on someone else anyways. "I'm late Nami, I've got to hurry to class." A thought struck him as he was brushing himself off. "Wait aren't you late too? Why are you outside of class? Were you following me again?"

Nami's face scrunched up into a confused look, and exposed her somewhat feline qualities, looking like a cat twitching its nose at an un-liked smell or sight. "No I was...well yes I was following you but only because you aren't late! You're early for once!" And with that she took a gigantic leap onto Porter and wrapped her arms around him, her tiny body able to knock him down once more.

"Argh, Nami get off me." Porter could hear some of the female students standing outside the classroom giggling at him and his face took on the likeness of a tomato in embarrassment. "I don't know why you keep chasing me around everywhere. If you keep it up I'll have to get a restraining order from the principal or sue you for sexual harassment and..." Porter blinked to reflect a strange thought crossing his mind. "I'm early?"

"Check your watch stupid." Nami was pushed off by Porter and he got himself to his feet once more, dusting himself off.

"It says that it's ten past nine. That's ten minutes late."

"That's funny, mine says it's ten before." Nami held up her watch to show him. "It's on the big clock too!" Indeed the display on the wall was flashing 8:50 continuously. And then it added an additional minute to the count. "See you're early. You've never been here at this time before."

"Oh." Porter was stunned. She was right; he had never been here early before, usually arriving just on time. What does someone do when they're early?

"Looks like your watch is broken again."

"I guess." Porter reset his watch in a daze and started to stumble towards class. He was bumped aside though, by Chase Rezel, the local hotshot and hothead; fit, athletic, tall, popular, everything every girl wanted and every commanding officer needed. His skills matched his swagger too and he was the top dog of the class, capable of throwing his weight around anytime he wanted. And Porter was on Chase's favourite list of people to push.

"An early Porter? It must be my lucky day. That gives me nine extra minutes of sparring practice." A wicked grin tore open across Chase's face, formed from perfectly set, white teeth. He cracked a few of his knuckles and the students milling around the doorway took notice and began renewed whispers, this time about a potential fight.

Porter looked up into Chase's blue eyes, noticing how his blonde hair was up and wavy, almost as though it were on fire from his passion. This would not end well. "I'm not going to fight you Chase."

"Well of course not! What fun would it be trying to watch you throw a punch? You're just going to serve some warm-up target practice for me." Chase wound his arm around in his shoulder socket and threw some mock punches in the air. The girls nearby gave out some "Oohs" and "Ahhs" in response and other boys started to mock Chase's style in admiration. "Up you get Porter. No fun if you're always falling down without me doing anything."

Porter lifted himself up for the third consecutive time that day and wavered in front of Chase. This would hurt. "You know what? I would like to see you try to hit me Porter. Come on, give me your best." The young star fighter puffed out his chest and placed his hands on his hips in preparation for the strike. Porter drew and squeezed a fist. He glanced towards the schoolgirls and looked through the faces. And he saw her; his secret dream, his little fantasy.

It was Riya, his crush since he had first arrived at the military academy. She was a tall, thin girl of translucently pale skin, with tiny, trembling lips and soft eyes that were often surrounded by flower-scented, raven hair. She was extremely shy though, yet tremendously popular with her long-lasting group of friends (and also because she was rumoured to be the daughter of a very wealthy industrialist and she owned an extremely lucrative and rare combat Goliath). However Porter didn't like her for any of those reasons. He liked her because he had met her first in the hallways and had tried to mumble out a nervous hello, only to see her blush a deep crimson and hurry off, dropping a book along the way. Of course in true romantic fashion they had both grabbed for it at once and the softness of her slim hands had shocked him into a lover's stupor he had never recovered from.

Riya was watching now but when their gazes met for a moment she looked away and covered her face with one of her pretty hands, as though she could not bear to watch what was coming. And Porter relaxed his arm as he realized what he was going to do. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see their teacher, Mr. Toriyama, looking down on him, his expression hard set and his eyes hidden by the glare of his round-rimmed glasses. "That's not necessary Porter. To your seats everyone." Porter followed the crowd as they poured in, Nami tugging at his hand to go faster, and he thought he saw Riya up ahead, looking back at him, smiling.

And so Porter Ryen of St. Maurius Academy for Specialization in Goliath Pilots sat down at his seat early for the first time in his life.

A/N: A big new project starting for me with a few chapters to follow. They might come out shaky at first but I'll find a beat to drum them out to. Lots to write about though, hope you like it!