"Right on time," he said as she glided past and up to her firing station. "Keep this up and you're going to place well."
Kincaid spared him a quick grin before snapping off a measured set of shots.
This range had mechanical targets that clearly indicated a binary miss or hit result. Kincaid had managed ten hits out of ten shots. Excellent.
There was no time to waste all the same, and the Coach didn't want to detain Kincaid or dampen her spirits. He also didn't want to hit her out of the blue with a downer talk when they were done.
The Coach acted as he believed a decisive man of principle should.
"Good shooting," he said to the happy, if red faced, young woman as she rose from her firing position. "However we place, you're going to do well. No time now, but I'm going to have to have a talk with you about what's next afterwards, so don't get carried away celebrating. Okay?"
Kincaid managed to look both pleased and puzzled. As well she might. "Sure, Coach," she answered.
"Off with you then," the Coach said. "Seconds count."
Kincaid, who'd been putting her skis on as they talked, pushed off with a powerful heave.
In mere seconds, she'd disappeared back into the woods.
The Coach resumed his waiting.
* * *
Time flies Andrew Cunningham couldn't help thinking as much as he hated cliche. It was the end of January. Soon enough February would be over and they'd be faced with the preparatory week for BOTC.
Andrew had gathered his friends together here in the Cadet's Mess to discuss how they should prepare for that preparation. It was all very meta, he mused to himself.
They weren't alone in the Mess.
Katie Kincaid, and to a lesser degree, Susan Fritzsen, had acquired a number of friends, or at least well wishers, who wanted to celebrate their success at the World Biathlon Championships. They had commandeered several tables over on the other side of the Mess and were having a rather raucously good time.
Andrew and his friends, Stephen, John, and Dave were having a much quieter time at their table.
"You really think they needed another round of drinks?" John asked Andrew peevishly.
Andrew had just bought Katie, Susan, and their friends a round. It hadn't been cheap or strictly necessary. "Probably not," Andrew conceded, "but it was a cheap way of being gracious. I don't want to seem mean or churlish."
"It was only Silver," John replied.
"It was a big deal they made it to the World's at all," Stephen answered for Andrew. "Susan says they'd have been happy to have got the Bronze. The Silver was pure gravy."
Dave Caldwell nodded in agreement. John was having a hard time letting go of his annoyance, though. "I'm happy for Susan, but Kincaid's a stuck-up oddball." He took a sip of his own beer. Didn't seem to help his mood. "Nobody ever cared about the biathlon before. Hell, bet half of us hadn't even heard of it."
Andrew appreciated the chance John was giving him to look reasonable by comparison. "That's true," Andrew agreed, "but second in the world even in an unpopular sport is still a noteworthy achievement. Worth recognizing. What I'm concerned about is how Kincaid is going to do now that the season is over. In particular, how is it going to affect our preparatory week."
"Why should we care about what Kincaid does?" John asked.
"One for all, all for one," Andrew answered. "It's supposed to be just familiarization with the BOTC's format, but in fact they'll be assessing us. Specifically, they'll be assessing us for how well we work together."
"Me and Susan got notes in our records for not helping Kincaid more during the obstacle course race at the end of Cadet Prep," Stephen said. "Susan's made that up. Wouldn't hurt us to seem more helpful."
"Stephen has a point," Andrew said. "On the other hand, despite her talents, Kincaid wouldn't be here if she didn't her good points, John's right."
"How's that?" Stephen asked.
"Kincaid is an outsider, and she is brash," Andrew said. "She's going to be prone to overreaching and then stumbling."
Dave grunted.
"So what's your plan?" John asked.
"We keep our options open," Andrew said. "We play nice, but don't get too close. I don't want to get mud all over me again the next time Kincaid belly flops into a puddle."
His friends smirked. "No matter how amusing you all find it," Andrew continued trying to show he was a good sport.
"So watch and see what happens," Stephen said. "From a distance," he added, smiling.
"I can live with that," John said.
Dave grunted affirmation.
"That's settled then," Andrew said.
* * *
It was Valentines Day. Colleen was in the room her and Katie shared. Trying to explain the event to her roommate.
Valentines was yet another thing that was a mystery to Katie. Colleen wanted to help Katie fit in. It was an uphill battle.
"Andrew Cunningham sent me a Valentine," Katie not quite whined. "He doesn't even like me. How do I answer this?"
"Nicely. Graciously," Colleen answered. "Tell him how flattered you are."
"He doesn't accept me being here. He's going through the motions so he doesn't look bad."
"Yes, and you should go through the motions so you don't look bad."
"Okay."
Colleen was less than impressed by Katie's sincerity. "Look Katie, you've got to at least look like you're trying to respect how things are done. Ideally, if you fake it well enough people will mostly forget what an outsider you are."
"I can see the logic."
"BOTC prep is coming up. If our classmates aren't at least passively accepting of you, it's going to be hard for you to do well. You've got to work on fitting in."
"I need to spend time studying the BOTC scenarios they're going to throw at us so I know what to do."
"You need to get the support of your classmates."
"By knowing what to do."
Colleen gave up. Katie was doing what she did best.
Being stubborn.
* * *
Katie was on the bench. An intramural basketball game she was only technically part of was in progress. Katie would have liked to have been somewhere else. The second semester mid-terms were in progress, and right after them the prep week for BOTC was coming up. She needed to be studying for both. Katie was beginning to catch up in Math. She was beginning to do better than just getting by. She was doing okay in History and Physics. Her languages, English and French both, she was struggling in. Studying, especially rote drill and memorization, took time. Katie was spectacular at memorizing, but it still took time. Time she could never find enough of.
As good as Katie was, she still needed time to go over the material and organize it into a structure she could commit to memory. And she wasn't getting that time.
Instead, she was being required to participate in a sport. Mostly she simply got to watch from the bench. Not that she blamed the basketball coach for that. As a basketball player, she was a disaster. Short and unfamiliar with both the game and the skills necessary to play it.
Katie had tried to make up for her deficiency in skill by being aggressively energetic. A couple of games ago she'd forgotten the game was a no-contact sport, and all but tackled an opposing player that had the ball.
Katie still wasn't sure what exactly had happened in the heat of the moment. The senior cadet officiating the game had had no doubts. He'd called her a barbaric little animal and banished her from play for the rest of the evening.
The official's heartfelt disgust and anger stung in a way she doubted she'd ever forget. She had no doubt of the young man's sincerity. She wondered if he wasn't right in his assessment. She wondered if that was the way most of the other cadets saw her, even if they weren't inclined to expressing themselves so bluntly.
It wasn't a pleasant sort of speculation. Katie was beginning to think all the people that had told her she had no place at the Academy might have been right. She was running on sheer stubb
ornness and a lack of clear alternatives at this point.
It seemed almost nobody was on her side.
Almost. One bright spot was that Susan Fritzsen was also on her basketball team. Susan could have likely found another more congenial sport to play. Katie figured she'd settled for intramural basketball in order to provide Katie support.
Katie felt an immense gratitude for that. A gratitude almost embarrassing in its intensity. Katie knew very well Susan was no warm hearted altruist. All the same Susan's presence here, her apparent belief Katie might have a future here at the Academy, was one of the few things that was keeping Katie going emotionally.
"There's no point being gloomy and resenting what you can't change," Susan, who was sitting beside her, said.
For a second Katie felt a flash of anger at one of her few friends. No, that was unfair. After they'd come back from winning the silver at the World Biathlon Championships, the whole squadron had been happy to celebrate with them. If she could prove herself, she could hope for acceptance. "You're right," Katie admitted. "I'm used to being better than this. I'm used to knowing what's going on, what I'm doing, and being good at it."
"But not basketball," Susan said with a small smirk.
Katie colored. "I feel real bad about that."
"It was spectacular," Susan said ruefully. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't make fun of you. I know you're embarrassed and you feel bad about it. And you're not wrong to worry that it's going to hurt your reputation."
"I'm convinced I can do better," Katie replied. "Only I feel lost and overwhelmed. I get my bearings for a little while and then I lose them again. I don't feel like I have any control over my life. Our time is so rigidly controlled and there's so little of it for all we have to do."
"We all feel that," Susan replied. "It's part of the Academy experience. Coping with it builds character, doncha know?"
"The character of a little lost lamb," Katie grumped.
"A vicious little lamb with a bad bite," Susan teased Katie.
"Funny. Not a good thing though," Katie said. "Remind me what we're doing here? How's this not an enormous waste of time when we all have a lot of studying to do?"
"We, and by 'we' I mean especially you, need to spend time together learning to both co-operate and compete at the same time," Susan replied.
"And that's more important than our studies or passing the BOTC?"
"It is more important than either academics or the exact details of the BOTC. Being an officer is about herding people. Getting them to do things effectively and leaving them more or less happy about it."
"That almost makes sense. However, I think we've established that I'm not going to impress anyone with my basketball skills. Nobody is going to follow me anywhere or even trust me with a blunt butter knife based on those. I think I'd be better off concentrating on things I can be good at."
"Unfortunately, it's unlikely the challenges you're going to be handed in the Space Force are going to always match what you're comfortable with."
Katie sighed. She knew Susan was right. It was obvious when she laid it out. Somehow she couldn't convince her gut of it. It didn't feel right, whatever the logic. "Too true," she said.
"Relax," Susan said. "You get carried away. Save your energy for when it's useful. Smell the roses. You don't always have to be in control and on top. Life's a trip, not a destination. Enjoy the trip, come out with me and Colleen this evening and have a 'wet' at the Mess. Just relax and schmooze with the girls. You'll feel better. You'll feel human and you'll seem that way to our esteemed colleagues in our cadet cohort."
"I feel like an alien lifeform half the time when I'm with the other cadets," Katie said. "Like we're from different worlds, even if we look kind of similar and speak a superficially similar language."
"Oh, come on, Katie," Susan said. "It's not that bad."
"Feels like it," Katie answered. "Feelings aside, I've still got a lot of study to do if I'm to squeeze out a modestly acceptable mark in French. My accent stinks, so I've got to make it up on the written."
"You can only do so much, accept that," Susan said. "You'll wear yourself out and crash, or at least stumble badly if you don't."
"I can't give it any less than my best, Susan, I can't."
"French is that important?"
"I need to go over the task scenarios given in prior BOTC and BOTC prep courses too," Katie answered. "Sure, people management is important, but I'm not looking to be a politician in uniform or afterwards. I want to be the best, most effective Space Force officer I can be. That means being good at tactics and getting tasks done. That's what BOTC is practice for, I think."
"Only to a very limited degree," Susan said. "Call it politics or call it people management, call it what you want, if you don't master it you'll never get a chance to be a Space Force officer. If you do scrape by here somehow you won't be a very good one."
Katie just frowned and stared at the basketball court.
7: Katie is Embarrassed
Katie had grown fond of the outdoors. It’d been an alien environment at first, but now it was almost a familiar one. Her favorite one. Katie had learned to appreciate the subtle beauty and ever changing play of light and weather it showed. Usually she enjoyed its comparative solitude and the freedom it provided from distractions and other people’s expectations.
Not so much today. Today was the second day of the Academy’s BOTC preparatory course. They’d spent yesterday being issued kit and then lectured on it, its uses, and its care. Katie and her classmates were, except for having only training weapons, now fully kitted out as light infantry.
Fully clothed in tough, thermally and humidity controlled fabrics, and light ballistically resistant armor that with its mottled matte textured colors of muted greens and browns faded into their surroundings.
They’d have been even better camouflaged if it hadn’t recently snowed.
And Katie would have been happier if she’d not been dropped off in the Old Farm Military Reserve’s rolling overgrown farmland and woods along with a couple dozen of her fellow cadets. Katie’s squadron mates, though for some reason their marine instructors were calling them a platoon.
Katie was convinced she was as well prepared for the trial to come as she could be, but anxious all the same. Not at all a characteristic mood for her, but so far her Academy experience had done little to make her feel more confident.
It was great she’d been good at the biathlon, but it felt disconnected from the rest of her experience at the school.
“Calm down. You’ll be fine,” Colleen muttered to her.
Oddly enough, the squadron, or platoon, as the case might be, wasn’t in a formal formation. They were standing about in a straggle of little clumps. Katie’s immediate clump consisted of her, Colleen and Susan, but also Andrew Cunningham and his friend Stephen Lee.
“You were never this nervous during our biathlon meets,” Susan commented.
Katie shifted from foot to foot. It was chilly. Katie told herself the motion was to keep warm. “I wasn’t as worried about doing well at the biathlon,” she answered.
“All the older cadets say the main thing is to stay calm and not panic. Keep your head about you,” Stephen Lee said.
Katie knew he was trying to be helpful, but felt a flash of irritation all the same. “Been in life and death situations and not panicked before,” she said shortly.
Andrew Cunningham smiled thinly at this. No one else commented aloud either.
It bugged Katie how Andrew could always be so polite and correct and still so annoying. It was like it was beneath him to be nasty to you. Like you were a dog turd on the sidewalk he was politely ignoring. Litter, both in the form of dog droppings, waste paper, and the odd bum had been a revelation to Katie, it still creeped her out how the Earth born could pretend not to see what was in plain sight. “I’ve got more to prove than the rest of you,” she said.
Before any of her fellow cadets could take her on regards this, their instructors
for the day appeared.
The usual no nonsense, grimly erect marine NCOs, a set of corporals led by a sergeant, they piled out of a tactical car and into a line facing the gaggles of cadets. The sergeant looked at his subordinates, nodded to one of them and turned towards the cadets, taking a few steps in their direction.
“Attention cadets!” the sergeant declaimed in a loud, carrying voice. “I’m Sergeant Barker, and I will be responsible today and for the rest of the week for familiarizing you with the format of BOTC training.” He looked around to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “Is that clear?” he asked.
“Yes, Sergeant,” the cadets chorused. They’d all long since learned not to call non-commissioned individuals “sir”.
“Good,” Sergeant Barker replied. “I’m going to break you up into squads and assign each of you an instructor. Your instructor will designate each cadet in turn as being in command and assign them a task. The instructors will thereafter only observe. Understood?”
Another chorus of “Yes, Sergeant.”
Mere minutes later, the Sergeant had done as he said he would. Katie’s group included her, Colleen, Susan, Andrew, Stephen, and a half dozen other cadets from their squadron. They had been given a Corporal Perry as their instructor. Corporal Perry led them off to one side away from the other squads and looked around at them.
“So who here is familiar with the Standard Space Forces Orders Format?” the Corporal asked.
Katie had memorized the format and even knew it was routinely abbreviated to its initials “SSFOF” and pronounced “sift-OFF”. “I am,” she volunteered.
The Corporal smiled thinly at her. It was not a heart warming expression. “Great,” he said. “You can take command for the first task.”
Behind him, out of his sight, Colleen gave Katie a small glum shake of her head. Katie didn’t need to hear what she was saying out loud. The message silent as it was came through loud and clear. “Good work, Katie. Now you get to be the guinea pig that makes all the mistakes the rest of us will learn from. Planned that well, didn’t you? Think you would have learned not to volunteer by now.”
Katie Kincaid Space Cadet Page 12
