by Kal Spriggs
As class began, I realized that it really was time that I called my grandmother.
***
“I was wondering when you'd call,” the Admiral arched an eyebrow at me.
Since we were making the call via our implants, and since I was using mine, I was pretty sure I'd made the connection pretty nearly impossible for someone to listen in, at least, not without me noticing. My implant painted her right into my vision so that it looked like she sat across from me in my room and I assumed that I looked much the same in her office. “Ma'am,” I nodded respectfully, “sorry, it's been... busy, here.” I'd been putting the call off, I could admit to myself. In part because I didn't want to risk giving away anything about the conversation I'd overheard between Charterer Beckman and whoever she was working with. The other part though was that I just didn't know what to say.
“I understand you've been doing well in classes,” the Admiral prompted. She seemed stiff, I realized. I wondered if that was because she didn't know what to say, either. No, that's ridiculous. This is the woman who faced down a planetary invasion with three obsolete destroyers.
“Yeah,” I nodded, “I mean, yes, Ma'am.”
“I think we can do away with the formalities since this is a personal call,” the Admiral gave an amused smile.
“Um, okay,” I sat there, trying to think of what to call her besides “ma'am” or “the Admiral.”
“Any particular reason you decided to call, Jiden?” my grandmother asked, arching an eyebrow at me. That eyebrow made my insides quiver as I thought about the secret conversation I'd overheard... and how she might need to know that information.
I don't know if it's valid, not yet, I'll tell her when I know more. The excuse felt thin, staring at the fierce woman, her digital presence every bit as imposing as her physical one. She was tall, tall as my mother, with the same piercing blue eyes. Her blonde hair was drawn back, with not a single hair astray. Her khaki uniform was as sharp and crisp as if she'd just pulled it out of a presser.
I wondered if my mom would have looked this way, if she'd stayed at the Academy... if she'd never met my dad. If she hadn't had that “accident” that she'd said wasn't an accident.
“I spoke with Commander Drien, today,” I spoke on impulse.
“Commander Drien...” my grandmother's lips drew back, as if she'd bit into a particularly sour lemon. “Would that be Commander Jotaro Drien or Commander Benjamin Drien?”
“Uh, the one who isn't Sashi Drien's father,” I answered, feeling stupid. I could have looked up his bio or something and answered that, but I hadn't thought to do it. I could have split off my attention with my implant and done it before I opened my mouth. I guess I hadn't really considered the fact that there were more than one Commander Drien in the Militia.
“That would be Jotaro,” The Admiral's expression softened ever so slightly. “What did he have to say?”
“He said he knew Mom, he said, well, he gave me his condolences...” I shrugged and looked down, fighting back tears yet again. When was this going to stop? When would this raw, ragged wound go away? I took a shuddering breath and forced myself to speak levelly, “Then, he asked if Mom had ever mentioned him.”
The Admiral's expression altered, her blue eyes darkening slightly and her posture shifting. “That... is an interesting question.”
“Interesting as in he's going to come after me or interesting as in, oh, that's a funny colored cloud?” I asked, a little fed up with everyone being so cryptic about the past. My own mother hadn't told me she'd attended the Academy until two years ago. I hadn't known anything at all about the family feud between the Armstrongs and the Driens, not until it had pitted Sashi against me in the Academy Prep School.
The Admiral gave me a long, level look and I had the good grace to look down.
“Interesting as in interesting,” the Admiral answered after a moment. “I honestly don't know what to make of it. Your mother and he were... close, as I may have mentioned before.” I didn't really remember whether she'd said that or not, but the last time my mother and the Admiral had been in the same room things had been rather explosive and emotional. “I'm not entirely certain, but I think that Jotaro Drien's father, Toshi, ordered his son to avoid your mother. I gather he... didn't agree. I'm not certain, but I suspect that Toshi, that is, Admiral Drien then set the conditions for the accident that injured your mother.”
“You're saying that Admiral Drien tried to kill my mom?” I hadn't realized that I'd stood up until I was halfway to the door.
“Calm down, Jiden,” My grandmother snapped and I froze, my hand extended towards the doorknob. I didn't know where I was going to go, what I was going to do, but I felt a spike of rage that that man had tried to hurt my mom.
“Believe me, there's nothing that you could do to him that I haven't already considered. There's also no trail of evidence and no proof whatsoever. Your mother wasn't the only one injured in that crash and there was an extremely thorough investigation afterward. The skimmer pilot insisted he received an order to fly lower, but there was no record of that order being given.”
My hands dropped to my sides as I considered that, “Maybe the pilot...”
“Don't,” the Admiral shook her head. “Trust me, I've investigated the pilot. It's a dead end. So was the flight recorder. Everything was far too clean, pointing at an inexperienced pilot making a simple mistake. Your mother says... said she overheard the pilot confirming the order, but no one else on the skimmer came forward with that info.”
“So what happened then?” I asked.
“When your mother got out of the hospital, she had a total change of heart. She wasn't all that banged up, she started at Nelson's University a couple weeks later, met your father, and the rest, as they say, is history.” The Admiral sighed. “She was so focused on starting a new family, a new start at life that I didn't have the heart to grill her about the fine details.”
I'd been born in my parent's sophomore year at Nelsons. They had started their junior year as student archeologists as part of the initial expedition to Black Rock Mesa and I'd grown up there. I thought about what had nearly happened, how my mother had very nearly died. I might never have existed... for that matter, if the crash hadn't happened, my mother might not have met my father and again, I might never have existed.
My eyes narrowed, “How close were Commander Drien and my mother?”
The Admiral rolled her eyes, “According to your mother, Jotaro had said he was going to ask my permission to propose.”
“Ew,” I made a face. I really didn't want to think about where that might have gone.
“Regardless, to the best of my knowledge, they never spoke after your mother left the Academy. Hardly a surprise since your mother blamed Admiral Drien for the incident,” the Admiral gave a grim smile, “Hard to care for someone when their family may have tried to have you killed.”
I wondered about that. For that matter, I wondered why the other Commander Drien could be such a jerk to his daughter, Sashi, when Jotaro had apparently liked my mom well enough. Maybe they were different, or maybe he'd just been using my mom, kind of like Sashi had tried to use me. Or maybe the situation is just more complicated than any one person could ever understand.
“I count Commander Jotaro Drien as one of the better officers in the Drien family,” The Admiral sniffed slightly, “While that might not normally mean much, I'd also count him as one of the better Active Duty Militia officers, as well. I've not heard any complaints about his performance as an instructor, either.”
She said it so casually that I could have missed it. “You're monitoring the classes here?”
The Admiral gave a slight nod, “I am. The classes, the instructors, and some of the... administrative decisions.”
I moved back to my chair and sat down slowly as I considered that, “You think that Admiral Fischer...”
“I think that the person who put him in his position may not necessarily have the best interests of Cen
tury and the Militia in mind,” The Admiral interrupted. I knew who she meant... and the way she'd phrased it, she didn't trust naming names even with the encryption provided by my implant.
If the Admiral already suspected Charterer Beckman, though... I made the decision in a split second and I knew it was the right one. “I may,” I said, “have heard something that you need to know.” I tapped the side of my head, suggesting it was through my implant.
The Admiral's eyes narrowed. “I told you to let me deal with this.”
“I didn't go digging, it just...” I hesitated, unwilling or unable to explain about the strange, familiar, looming presence that I'd encountered in my dreams.
“I'll arrange for a pickup. Make a physical copy on a data card. You'll know who to give it to,” she said. She looked at something off to the side, something or someone in her office. “I have to go. Be safe, Jiden.” She looked back at me, meeting my eyes, “I'd tell you to keep your head down, but I won't waste the breath. If you get into trouble that you can't get out of, do try to get help.”
I couldn't help but smile, “Take care... grandmother.”
She sniffed, “You too, Jiden.” She cut the call.
***
Chapter 8: I Might Lose My Best Friend
Commander Troyers’ class had become my favorite. In part, because he seemed to be the only one of our instructors who genuinely seemed to want us to succeed. Welding had been hands on and exciting. We’d done laser welds, electrode welds, and he’d even walked us all through explosive welding.
Our electrical and electronics segments had been rather less exciting with him in comparison. Yet he had an energy that made me excited in turn.
Of course, being excited was something that could get you in trouble when working around industrial machinery.
“Down!” Commander Troyer bellowed.
I dove to the floor, covering my head in my hands and feeling metal shavings and oil stick to my face as I waited. A moment later I heard a loud pop and then a whine as some piece went flying.
“All clear,” he said in a resigned tone.
I stood up, brushing what I could off of my uniform. We had coveralls for this kind of thing, but I’d had to come here straight after my last session in the simulator. So I hadn’t had time to change. The metal shavings were going to be hard enough to get off, I could feel them poking me through my uniform. But the oil and grease from the floor was going to require special cleaning to get out.
I looked around. Hodges stood next to his machinery, a combination milling machine and lathe that we’d been using to manufacture replacement parts. Commander Troyer stood over him, his face red, “That has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever…” He trailed off, looking around, seeming to notice the rest of the section for the first time. He gave a resigned sigh, “Hodges, my office.” He swept his gaze around at all of us, “The rest of you, back to work. And remember your safety training.”
As they stepped away, I saw that someone had triggered the emergency stop on Hodges’ lathe. There was also a rather large chunk of part of the cutting blades missing. From the angle, I guessed that Hodges had been trying to rush things. He’d probably turned up the speed on his machine and been cutting a little deeper to get his piece down to size quickly.
In the process, he’d put too much strain on the cutting tip and it looked like he’d blown a chunk of it off. If we’d been using laser cutters, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but we were using the mechanical cutting tips this week since some of the older Militia ships didn’t have sophisticated laser-cutting systems for their workshops.
I turned back to my machine, stepping on the safety pedal once more and getting it spinning, since it had stopped when I’d dropped to the floor. I wondered what Commander Troyer was saying to Hodges and I fought down the temptation to tap into the monitors and find out.
The machine shop was loud. Almost twenty spinning sets of equipment with blades cutting metal and exhaust fans blowing to suck out fumes and heat. There was a particular smell to the lathes, a oily, crisp metal scent that I knew would be on my skin and hair for the rest of the day, even after a shower.
A few minutes later, Hodges came out of Commander Troyer’s office and went back to his equipment. The stocky, fair-haired young man had a flushed face and his jaw was set in anger. Commander Troyer came out a few minutes later. I went back to working on the part. We had three hour labs twice a week, but as soon as we finished a project, we had the rest of the time off. As much as I enjoyed the classes, I wanted to be done early so I could try to use some of that extra time on my other classes.
“Give the cutter just a bit more oil,” Commander Troyer said from behind me. With the noise and chaos of the workshop, I hadn’t even heard him come up behind me. I dutifully added a bit more oil, careful to get it just where I needed it.
“Yeah, remember, you pretty much can’t go wrong by adding more oil,” He came around my lathe, careful to keep out of the path of anything that might go spinning free. “You’re pretty good at this, Armstrong, not like some of these boneheads.”
“Uh, thanks, sir,” I replied.
“Don’t thank me yet, I might just decide to load you down with some extra work,” he gave me a smirk, his bushy red mustache bristling out.
I didn’t know what to say about that, so I focused on what I was doing. I appreciated the complement, but I sure didn’t want more work as a result of doing well.
I finished up my section of work just before the end of the class and I’d pretty much forgotten his words as I headed for the door. But as I passed his desk, Commander Troyer spoke up. “Hold up there, Armstrong.”
I paused, and he waved at me to come over. Some of the other cadets were watching, but most of the others were still cleaning up or trying to get out the door headed to our next class.
“Give these a look,” Commander Troyer held out a stack of books.
I took them, looking down at them. The top one read Advanced Principles of Manufacture. There were three more books underneath it.
“You might find it interesting. It’s not testable material, but you might find it useful.”
I had no idea when I’d have time to read it. “Uh, thanks, sir,” I put as much enthusiasm as I could into it.
“Just bring them back at the end of the semester, Armstrong,” he waved a hand, “Take care.”
I left, cradling the books in my arms, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t stand out as being so hard-working.
***
I arrived at my physical examination with Doctor Schoeffelk feeling more than a little groggy. The high tempo of classes and drills had left me exhausted. Commander Siebert's required hours had become the worst. I could do things her way, sacrificing a squad of fighters, or I could struggle through until I did things perfectly and didn't lose any. It had begun to gnaw at me. I knew that there might be a situation where I'd have to put those under my command at risk, but the thought of deliberately sending people to their deaths as a distraction was too much for me.
I wasn't the only one, several of my section, including Bolander, Kyle, Sashi, and a few others, had all argued with Commander Siebert. She didn't seem to care that the situations and scenarios she'd designed all fitted just one parameter: her tactic was the most viable. It wasn't even training at this point, she seemed bound to force us to adopt her methods.
“Good morning, Jiden,” Doctor Schoeffelk smiled.
“Good morning, sir,” I answered, not really feeling all that good. I felt run down.
“Not sleeping much, I take it?” He smirked a bit at me, “Remind me to tell you about my residency sometime. It makes the Academy seem like a summer camp.”
I just grunted at that. Doctor Schoeffelk was about the only non-Militia staff. The Admiral had brought him in last year to help figure out what Doctor Aisling had done with our Quicksilver implants. He still hadn't figured everything out, but he'd made good progress and he'd helped us to figure out some of the really
dangerous issues.
“Oh, I understand you have that long term implant data I asked you to collect?” He asked. I stared at him stupidly for a moment. “You saved it as a physical copy, a data card, like I asked you to do, right?”
I realized what he'd meant. He hadn't asked me to do any such thing... but the Admiral had told me to save the intercepted message on a data card. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. I'd been carrying it around for the past couple of weeks, wondering how the Admiral planned to sneak it out of the Academy.
Now I knew. I passed it over to him and Doctor Schoeffelk tucked it into his pocket as if nothing untoward had happened. “Now then,” he said, “let’s talk about this dream you had.”
“Dream?” I asked. I hadn't talked to him about the presence in my dream. I told the Admiral, though...
He patted the chair, “Have a seat, Jiden.”
I sighed. This was part of what I'd been worried about. I took a seat, feeling uneasy as he sat down across from me, holding his datapad and staring at me intently. “Talk to me, Jiden.”
“I fell asleep on the train on the way here,” I shrugged, not meeting his eyes. I stared at the tile floor of the exam room, counting tiles and noting that they didn't, quite, fit the size of the room, the last row was short. “While I was dreaming, there was this looming presence. It... helped me to hear a transmission.” Even though I knew there were no monitors in the room, I still didn't want to go into specifics.”
“When was this?” Doctor Schoeffelk asked, cocking his head at me.
“Coming to school at the start of the year,” I admitted, not daring to look up and meet his eyes.
“Months ago...” he shook his head, “Jiden, I would think that after your experiences last year, you'd realize the importance of coming forward.” I could picture the disappointment on his face, the puppy-dog eyes he'd be giving me. “Is this the only time?”
“No...” I closed my eyes, “It happened again here at school. Right after the first drill, I fell asleep after... well, after a rough day. The presence was there, this time it helped me to listen in on a conversation that was ongoing.”
