by A. C. Ellas
Even when they were sleeping, their training continued in the form of dream scenarios. Cai felt a moment’s pity for Joi. She had a rough day ahead at the hands of her trainer. Reaching the mess hall, Cai took a tray and walked down the service line, receiving his allotted scoops of various colors and textures. He was partial to the yellow-orange paste; it was sweet and tasty. His least favorite was the green-brown scoop with the pebbly texture. Whatever it was, it was nasty.
Cai didn’t pay much more attention to his food than did the people who’d prepared it. He shoveled it into his mouth steadily, his mind already turning over the first problem of the day, an orbital breakout calculation involving a gas giant and six large moons. By the time he’d arrived at a solution, his tray was empty, so he took it to the wash station, rinsed it and stacked it with other, identical trays. Breakfast over, he headed for the auditorium. First class after breakfast was an hour-long lecture attended by all students of the Guild. The topic discussed varied day by day and could pertain to any subject. It was simply information that the Guild felt its students needed to know.
Cai found his seat a moment before his trainer, Ortat, told him, You did well on your scenarios last night and, also, full marks on the breakfast equation. Simulator practice after lecture, I’ve booked you in room three.
Yes, sir. Cai tried to hide his elation. He loved simulator time. It was the high point of his day. When he’d first awoken, scared and sore, he’d had no idea what was in store for him. He hadn’t even known what an Astrogator was, much less why he wanted to be one. Now there wasn’t room in his life to think of anything else.
An Astrogator was more than a space navigator or a star pilot. An Astrogator was the heart and soul of the spaceship. Blending psi with math and the power of the singularity, an Astrogator flew his ship through the strange subspace realm of faster-than-light travel. It was so much more than the simple explanation, though. It was transcendental, a rush of power and expanded consciousness, the ability to be a ship, to fly through the stars and to bend reality to one’s will and that was just what he’d done in the simulator so far.
Compared to that, a lecture on the founding of the Guild was boring. Cai listened anyway. His trainer was more likely than not to quiz him on the day’s lecture. To his surprise, he found himself growing interested as the speaker told them about the years leading to the collapse, when unchecked corporatism and generic experimentation had reigned. A period of time called the second dark age had followed, as global communication had shut down and millions had died of starvation and disease. When humanity finally pulled itself back up, things were different. The race had changed, expanded. Psychic ability was now a reality rather than a delusion and means of bilking money from the naïve. Real psychic power was dangerous, and the world reacted variously to that—by controlling it or exterminating on it, depending on culture.
Wars followed, wars that used psi, and the history of Noram’s Psion Squad was discussed as it related to the founding of the Psionics Guild. Now, the Guild was respected, though it hadn’t always been, and the guildmembers worked for the betterment of humanity as a whole. The lecturer assured them that they should feel privileged to be members of the Psionics Guild before he dismissed them to classes.
Cai thought about the lecture as he made tracks for simulator three. How could he know if what he was told was true? Why did the entire lecture taste of propaganda? And how did he know what propaganda was? Why couldn’t he remember anything from the Before?
He and his classmates discussed this from time to time using tightly shielded telepathic bands to keep their teachers from overhearing them. None of them remembered the Before. Only the guild hall. And yet, they remembered things, knew things, recognized things that they didn’t learn here at the hall. For example, Cai knew how to play the violin, but he had no memory of ever learning to play it. The knowledge, the ability, was just there. It was enough to drive one mad, but madness was a lurking spectre that wasn’t ever acknowledged here.
To be insane was to be removed from the program like that one girl who’d been pulled from the lecture hall after she’d gone into a screaming, hysterical fit, never to be seen again. Or that other kid, who’d abruptly snapped and attacked his trainer with a knife, screaming about how everyone was out to get him. There was a fine line between a balanced psion and a raving lunatic, and Cai didn’t want to end up like that.
He slipped into simulator room three and approached the chair in the middle of the otherwise empty room. The chair was a mixture of comfort and strangeness. The full seat offered a padded leather surface with full reclining ability and was even more comfortable than it looked. But attached to the chair were a variety of blinking computer interface devices, lending the whole thing the look of some ancient torture device. The room itself was boring compared to the chair. Three of the walls were stone, just like his quarters, and the fourth wall was one-way observation glass. His trainer was on the other side of the glass. He sent a greeting as he sat on the chair and downed the dose of raw Synde that would enable him to link his mind to the simulator.
Are you ready? Ortat asked.
I am, Cai replied. The computer interfaces swung in automatically, snuggling over his legs, his arms and hands, and his head. The crystal in his palm seated into the socket designed for it, and Cai’s reality altered. He was no longer a young man reclining in a chair in the guild hall, but a spaceship sailing the void.
The solar wind off a blue supergiant caressed his starboard side, a pleasant tickle that Cai enjoyed as he studied the system and compared his findings to the database of known star systems. Ortat never told him where he was, he was expected to figure it out. A ringed gas planet sat below him twirling a full complement of moons, two of which were large enough to have been terraformed, and their nitrogen-oxygen atmospheres were compatible with human life. A quick check showed thriving colonies on both moons, and a third, airless moon soon hove into view and Cai knew at once where he was.
Rigel, in the Orion sector. A check showed the supergiant’s companions, a pair of blue-white main-sequence stars, right where they were supposed to be. The pair spun about each other like a couple of dancers and revolved together around the much larger Rigel A. Rigel was a young star and destined for a short life, though it would exit with a bang, being the type of star that would end in a supernova.
Cai mentally shook himself. What was he doing, daydreaming about stars when he had work to do? He pulsed his location to Ortat and waited for instructions.
Break orbit and set a course that takes you past every planet in the system using the fewest possible course adjustments.
The local system or the extended system that includes the companions?
The extended system.
Cai wondered why he’d even asked. The answer was always the most complex or difficult of the alternatives. He studied the system some more, locating all the planets, though some were guesses based on the databanks. Once he had the list, a staggering twenty-two planets between the three stars, he started working on various courses that would pass by all of them.
It seemed unsolvable until it occurred to him to swing inward, toward the supergiant Rigel A. Using the immense star’s gravity, he could whip around to the companions and their planets without actually making a course adjustment. With a growing sense of glee, he checked to see if he could use the slingshot maneuver anywhere else and found two other places where it would be of benefit to him.
Cai laid in his first course and exulted in the rush of power as his engines pushed him out of orbit. In his gut lurked the real power of the starship, the captured singularity held fast in gravitational and magnetic coils. He would call on his black hole drive soon, but for now, the ion engines were what he needed and used. Scoops open to collect the cosmic dust—and the solar wind—he soared past the hot, nearly molten rock that was Rigel A’s closest planet, a Mercury analogue the size of Mars, and entered the outer corona of the star itself. He
rotated until the heat brushed against his belly and accelerated smoothly, adding just enough speed to ensure breakout at the precise spot he needed once he’d slung himself around the star.
The transition was smooth. He ripped out of the slingshot and headed for the next planet on his list with ease. He felt like singing, but he knew better. Pain lanced down his right side from armpit to knee and he screamed from the intensity of it even as he focused his attention to starboard and the Q’Kathi fighters strafing his ship. Each blast of their lasers burned into him, a searing agony he couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to. He searched for a way to rid himself of the pests and discovered what he should have already known.
Ortat had given him a Space Corps body this time. He had weapons, though they weren’t powered up. Feeling guilty because he’d neglected to do a thorough systems check before breaking orbit, he started the procedure for warming up his guns. Until they were ready, all he could do was…launch fighters? Cai blinked as the squadron of fighters in his belly requested permission to launch. He allowed it, rolling to present his back to the attackers to give the launching fighters some cover.
Silently, he thanked Ortat for adding in the squadron. It would count against him in the debriefing, but right now, Cai was only interested in escaping with his ship intact. The guns were finally ready, and Cai joined the fight, picking off the enemy ships, taking great care to avoid his own fighters. When the last Q’Kathi ship was reduced to a ball of expanding scrap, the fighters turned and headed back for him. Now, Cai silently cursed, but he initiated the landing protocols to recover the fighters.
By the time the fighters were back aboard, Cai was tired. He continued his course, doggedly determined to see it through. He reached his first course adjustment and executed it perfectly. He did a full-system scan, looking for surprises. He approached the next slingshot planet, another gas giant, and dipped briefly into its atmosphere, filling his scoops in a matter of minutes. He flung himself around the planet with precision and headed off into space along a line that would pass by nine of the requisite points before he’d have to make another course adjustment.
Predictably, once he was stable on that line, Ortat skipped him ahead to the end of it and the next course change. Cai was growing ever more tired and he knew it, but he focused himself on the problem at hand and fired his engines at the crucial moment and burned them for just long enough to shift him into the desired path out-system. Normally, an Astrogator would sleep between these course changes, using the dead time of travel to rest and regain strength.
That was a luxury that Ortat was denying him, along with use of the singularity drive. Every time Cai reached for that sweet power, he felt nothing in response. The idea of doing orbital maneuvers entire on ion drive wasn’t unheard of, a lot of the more crowded systems insisted on it due to lingering fears about the effects of the singularity drive near inhabited planets.
By the end of the simulation, when Cai approached the outer marker of the system, he was limp with exhaustion. The view of the stars was abruptly replaced with stone walls and the visage of his trainer. Ortat held a glass out to him; Cai accepted with a shaky hand and downed it at once. The creamy chocolate protein shake was well complemented by the Synde laced through it. Cai didn’t object to either, for psi used physical energy at an astonishing rate, or so Ortat was always telling him. After this, he had no doubt, lunch would be next on his agenda.
Ortat’s words confirmed his thoughts. “We will review your performance in the simulator after you’ve eaten lunch.”
Cai concealed a wince. Ortat’s tone told him that he failed the simulation. It was going to be a long day after all.
Chapter Thirteen: Nick
When Nick had arrived at the Space Corps Academy with a duffel containing all his worldly possessions slung over his shoulder, he’d expected something straight out of the holos. He had expected that his incoming class would be lined up in rows and berated by a tough space marine sergeant. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
On arrival, he’d been supplied with uniforms, boots and various supplies. Next, he was directed inside the barracks building and assigned to a room. He had the room to himself. It was a nice little studio apartment with a comfortable bed, a state-of-the-art computer console system and a bathroom with a full immersion tub rather than a shower stall, though it had the usual shower nozzles as well.
He unpacked and stowed his belongings in the drawer under the bunk or in the closet as seemed appropriate. Finally, he changed into one of the new uniforms and reported to the auditorium as instructed. His entire incoming class—two hundred students—fit with room to spare. He was neither the first to arrive nor the last, and nobody had entered in at last ten minutes before someone finally approached the podium at the front of the room.
The speaker tapped the mike before he opened with, “Welcome to the Space Corps Academy. Over the next several years, you will grow in ways you never dreamed of, learn things beyond your wildest imaginings and achieve things scarcely to be believed. Eventually, you will take your place in the stars, alongside your brother and sister officers.”
Nick tried not to yawn as the speech rambled on, half propaganda and half sales pitch, as if everyone in the room wasn’t already dedicated to the idea of joining the Corps.
Finally, the man said something interesting. “As Space Corps officers, it will fall upon you to keep the peace in the colonies. We cannot permit there to ever be a successful challenge of a Space Corps officer, for as an officer, you carry the full authority of the United Republic. To that end, when you leave this hall today, you will begin a series of vital medical procedures that will strengthen your body and improve your reflexes. The Space Corps doctors will discuss this with you in further detail, and if it sounds like more than you can handle, this is your last chance to bow out.
“Let me be perfectly clear, once you agree to Space Corps enhancements, you will belong to the Corps until such a time as the Corps chooses to release you from service. For most of you, that means twenty years, which isn’t a terrible burden given a life expectancy of several hundred years, but the Corps will always reserve the right to indefinite extension and even recall of retired Corpsmen should the need arise. That means, from now, until the day you die, you will be part of the Space Corps.”
Nick sat back, stunned and entertaining second thoughts. He’d always heard the term of service to be twenty years. Indefinite extension wasn’t in the brochures. Nor was the right of recall. His data port informed him that the floor was now open to questions. He logged his question immediately.
The man’s eyes swept the crowd. “Mr. Steele wants to know under what circumstances would the service contract be extended. It’s very simple. Only in a time of war will the Corps extend someone. You can, of course, volunteer for an extension, and many Corpsmen will do just that. Maximum time of service allowed during peacetime is one hundred years.” The man went on to answer several more questions, but Nick had the answer he needed.
The human race hadn’t been at war since the third Q’Kathi war of 2150. There was always trouble, of course, with drug runners, pirates and even slavers plying the space lanes, but a true enemy hadn’t revealed itself in over a hundred years. Even the Q’Kathi had given up after their third sound defeat at human hands.
Nick went into the medical complex with the rest of his class. After speaking with the doctors, they’d take their oaths tying them irrevocably to the Space Corps—or not. Nick was confident that this was something he wanted to do, but the thought of a full-ride scholarship and a fast track into the doctoral program in Life Sciences lurked in the back of his mind.
The class was split into small groups as they entered the complex, and he ended up in a group of about a dozen kids in a small, comfortable room. The overstuffed leather furniture was inviting, there was a holocube and several computer consoles scattered about, and refreshments along the back wall. Clearly, they would be in here for a wh
ile.
Nick’s wait wasn’t as long as he’d thought it would be; his name was the third one called. He was ushered into a small office where a stern-looking man waited. The man shook his hand gravely and told him to have a seat.
The doctor got straight to the point. “Now, Nick. You’re young for the program and that presents a special challenge for us.”
“How so, sir?”
“Space Corps officers are wired. Nerve and muscle alike are paired with technology that increases your strength, your reaction time, your healing time, any number of things. But your body has to be at or near its full growth before we can do this.”
“Oh.” Nick understood. But with that understanding came anger. “Then why accept me at all if I’m not grown enough?”
“Obviously, if you agree, we’ll accelerate your growth,” the doctor told him nonchalantly. “In a matter of weeks, your body can be ready for the rest of it, but those weeks will not be comfortable at all.”
Nick wanted to gape. “You can do that? That’s…that’s amazing. How?”
“It’s a gene therapy developed by the Psionics Guild. They use it on their Astrogator-elects, who are even more extensively altered than you will be. Here’s the good news. Since we don’t use much neurologic circuitry, you won’t require Synde to function.”
“How do you do it, then, if not with neurologics?”
“That, Mr. Steele, is classified.” The doctor pulled up a hologram of a human body. Nick could see the insides as clearly as the outside as the changes were explained to him. Not the processes but the results. He’d be superhuman when they were done—he’d be twice as strong and three times as fast, able to hold his breath for up to twenty minutes without ill effect. He’d even be able to withstand the vacuum of space for a short time.
When the doctor finished, Nick shook his head in bemusement. “How long does all that take?”
