Michael Goldenrod
It is said the longer a fight goes on, the more likely you are to forget the stakes. The fusiliers had fought for their identity for so long, little details had started slipping, then larger and larger ones. I'm pretty sure Montral wasn't how it was spelt originally, and I've been to the little stone. The letters erased by the fingers of time. Ochelaga, it says, and peace, and most of the rest is unreadable except for Montr-blur-al. It's a comparatively short walk from there, to where it says Fusiliers Mont-Rblur-al, a stately pile of rock, said to date back all the way to M2, in the middle of the roots of the hive. East-Noram hive is quite the sight, a single building spread over six thousand kilometers in area, and over a hundred stories tall in places. The fusiliers and the Van Doos share recruitment from it, along with a few other regiments even more prestigious, and some lessers. It also sends the orphaned sons and daughters of its heroes all to a single place: Springfield Schola Progenia, and that's where my story begins. We were a class of sixty, from brawny, athletic Iguwolé "Clean" Brador and Wanda to mousy Marsha Narvik, clearly the brains of the entire operation, mostly used keeping her friend Wanda out of trouble. Myself, Rajiv, Carmine, Wanda and my sister, Cynthia, ended up testing high enough to stay in the scholam, while Lord-Commissar Oktar downgraded most of the rest to regular infantry. Cynthia actualled stayed the longest, testing high enough for Tempestor, but not quite enough for Tempestor Prime. Still, it's a huge honour for our family, I wish our parents had seen it, but of course, we wouldn't even have been considered if they were alive. Now, these other orphans with us ended up forming a regiment, and Sophia 'boss-budget' Van Stoat ended up running it. Within the year I'd been assigned by Lord-Commissar Oktar's will and testament to keep an eye on things... And various officers had been attached to the unit, like Prun-Devi Boutella or promoted from within, like Marsha, who is still the regiment's idea of practicality and level-headedness, to this day. 8745th Montral Fusilliers is a very high number for a regiment, but unlike our more elite neighbours, the Van Doos, our number isn't part of our identity, so the Munitorum, in its munificience, feels it best to increase the number to match our many, many, many foundings. Few units have have earned as many golden skulls as we have. Oh, you're not familiar with this award, I guess? It's given to the deceased of a unit that's been near-wiped out, or wiped out. The particular count of this medal earned by Fusiliers outnumber the founding's numeral by a significant margin.Michael was petting Sniffy, his long-suffering hunting hound. Sniffy was panting, Sniffy's longtime, feathered friend, Workman, was grooming himself atop Sniffy. Workman, an augmented crow, was the official regimental mascot, while Sniffy was the mascot of first company.
I am Michael Goldenrod, Commissar, 8745th Montral Fusilliers. My life is complicated, I am to teach, to instruct, to show the flag, to master myself and my emotions. My emotions, ah, those are complicated. Women are complicated creatures, and some of them seem to enjoy making my life even more complicated. I guess I return some of that favor, I don't imagine a commissar is exactly the easiest man to live with. My mentor Oktar, was found to have five wives, and eight children, after his death, I met with all of them, I had to, as his executor, splitting his belongings between them, after his demise. I also found his journals, where he admitted he was the illegitimate son of a similar hero, illuminating a network of similar, sad, stories from parent to child. My life in the regiment is simple, I have a dog, Sniffy a smart, war-trained beagle who keeps with the regiment. I share the responsability with other senior officers of the regiment for the care and feeding of our regimental crow, a clever avian named Workman who's been with us almost from the egg. Or it would be simple, except for five women, four of which belong to the regiment. The first bane of my existence is the regimental commander. Yes, I know I should report her, I should even shoot her myself, make an example of her for... well, getting her hands on this commissar is probably the right term. In another life, I might have, but as the woman I'd wanted, I'd loved since she was a girl, she only beat me to it. If only I hadn't been in a relationship when she said something... Story of my life, being the wrong man at the wrong time. Then there is that woman, Marsha, the senior-most nco in the regiment, standing just under our two warrant officers, because of the intricate nature of rank tables, but even they know better than to disrespect her. A petite elf of a woman, too, foolish I call anyone who underestimates her. Her best friend, Wanda, turns out to have been my first girlfriend as a teenager, I'd run into her visiting my sister's dorm room, where she and the last woman on this list, shared a dorm. The next dorm over, Sophia and Wanda shared a dorm, but Sophia was in my own dorm, I'd find out later, as my dorm mate and her were even talking about getting engaged that year, but got cold feet. Me and Wanda had a great time, but didn't speak of anything beyond that. Sophia to this day pretends she was rooming with her brothers, not Rajiv, and he supports her story, but I was the student assistant-proctor of our dorms that week, I caught them on vid. I had my own activities, so I just let the matter drop. My own sister makes my life difficult, thankfully, not in the same way as the other three. My sister, Cynthia, Cyn to most in the regiment, has been getting into trouble with Sophia's brothers since their scholam days. I keep hearing rumours that she's involved with one brother one time, the other the next. Annoying, but as much as I want to thrash the rumour-mongers within an inch of their life as a protective older brother, she can do so herself quite handily, but she's the one who asked me not to. Saying the rumours were sour grapes of the men not being able to catch her attention, and were best left unaddressed. The remaining woman isn't part of the regiment. She's a fellow commissar, fiery, indomitable, newly dual-ranked as a colonel-commissar, beautiful like the dawn, and I grew up in the same scholam, smitten since those days, if anything, I'm more attracted to her than I've ever been. She'd been dating my old room mate when we both graduated, I found out the day I told her my feelings. They're no longer together, he didn't even bother showing up, when she was in the hospital for a month. Maybe I still have a chance, but, I guess, only if I can figure out what I want, if I can figure out my heart.
"My, my, be still my heart." "Hi Soph." "What a sight you make, coming out of the shadows in full mess." "Whose idea was it that you ladies could wear regular dresses, but we got to wear uniforms?" "Mine, most of you gentlemen need help to put on formals half the time, giving you the handicap of a uniform only felt fair." "Oh, so it's a contest, is it?" "Well, no, a friendly competition, perhaps, but hardly a contest." "Meaning there's no prizes?" "Only pride as the prize, of course." "My, my. Michael, you've been working out?" Carmine walked in. "You look like a buccaneer, lofty neighbour." Sophia greeted her newly minted peer. "There's a bit of that, despite our current nature as heavies, my regiment amalgamated some voltigeurs in its long past regimental history."" "Voltigeurs? Is that a sports term?" "No, it meant we were unarmoured and upposed to be dodging acrobatically, I believe, the old Franc Canadic is almost undecipherable." "Hence its use as a sports term?" "That use is almost that old, and just as hard to understand without Franc knowledge I don't have, but my tech-priest research assistant did flag the reference for use." Carmine idly smoothed some of Michael's epaulets. "We can't have you looking like you were raiding the henhouse..." "Our dashing hero always looks like he's just back from that though..." Sophia looked at her with a grin. "Ladies, I'm right here.... What's with the henhouse joke?" "Just a harmless little joke, about your success with the ladies, Michael." "I shan't call it a success, it might start a food fight, and we're in full mess!" "Oh, Michael. Such a jokester. As if we'd fight over you..." "Now, why do you say that?" "Anyone who understands you knows we couldn't keep you, better to let you fly free...." "Well, that went to an unexpected place. And you know this how?" "I've known you for thirty years this spring dear, longer than anyone in this regiment apart from your sister, I'd think it gives me perspective." "Maybe I just still don't know what I want." "Indecision is a fatal flaw in a commissar." "Lack of intelligence on intentions is not indecision." "Now, now, you tow, I've known Michael almost as long as Sophia has, and you're still impentrable to me, let's change the subject before it sounds like you're plotting heresy or mutiny and trying to do so under another commissar's nose..." She joked, although that would have been serious indeed. "You've been trying hard to admit knowing us." "I only knew Michael, we were in different classes, you and I, but he kept writing me." "You were in a class with my brother." "Well, yeah." She blushed, remembering that moment of innocent childhood romance, popped like a soap bubble, those childish feelings victim of 'what have you done for me lately?' like only children can imagine. She wasn't proud of how self-centered she'd been then. "And there was kissing, as I recall..." Sophia grinned, she'd loved teasing Niels about it growing up. "Well, some kissing, although, as I realize, he seems to prefer his women a bit on the muscular side now." "And Michael's got no history with such women? You have no idea..." "What? Michael, with an Amazon?" "My scholam roommate, I imagine she manhandled Michael quite a bit that one time she asked me to "let her have the dorm for the night". "I wouldn't know her would I?" "I don't imagine you would." "Except, we both were in the Progenia together, in fact, I was Cynthia's roommate, you think I'd not forget how often you and Wanda visited? That was how I got to know Michael, actually." "Ladies? Right here!" "..." "Nevermind, I'll see myself out! Arrgh!" And he walked off. "We're being so very hard on that poor boy, aren't we?" "Why, no, compared to his other duties, and what's expected of a Commisar, we're little angels." "And when he makes up his mind?" "I guess we'll take a lump or two, but the Michael I know wouldn't stand to see us damaged in any way, nor hurt." "Oh, I don't think he'd stand for us to be... damaged, I guess is a good word, but underestimating him, and what he's capable of, can be a fatal mistake." "Oh, and how do you propose he'd do that?" "Simple, he asks for transfer, he leaves. No marks on either of us, but we'll be apologizing to General-Comissar Thanh and Lord Militant Templeton for weeks." "I wouldn't have to apologize for them for him leaving..." "No, but you think that wouldn't affect morale, readiness and unit performance, considering he's practically a second XO for you, keeping an eye on everything in the regiment? How long till you get a replacement that tolerates your... quirks?" "Quirks?" "How many regiments do you think have more than 10% of the officers, and most of those the top tier of officers, known each other for upwards of 20 years, and while they never need to explain much to one another, having almost a form of silent communication, make the other 90% distinctly feel like third-class citizens?"
"Michael?" "Yes, Sophia?" "Thank you for this..."
Social
Hobbies & Pets
plays the trombone and tuba to get his mind off things.
Speech
"Good grief!"
Relationships
Year of Birth
40934 CE
835 Years old
Birthplace
East-Noram Hive, Longue Pointe,
Spouses
Marsha Narvik
(girlfriend)
Siblings
Cynthia Goldenrod
(Sister)
Children
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