Third World

by Louis Shalako

  So far, it wasn’t all bad. This was how the other half lived.

  ***

  The rationale behind the large command component was the fact that it allowed for three separate groups.

  Each party would be in the charge of two senior ranks.

  Newton’s own patrol went well.

  Taking the four greenest troopers, and Jackson as second, they left the lobby at nine p.m. precisely and turned right at the sidewalk.

  Adopting a simple squad-in-column formation, they went up the main street in pairs set two metres apart, with Newton in the lead, nodding pleasantly at pedestrians and with the rest in listening mode. Jackson was apparently finding the whole thing vastly entertaining going by his rude commentary. Newton grinned and lived with it, although if anyone else chimed in, he would squash them good.

  None of these four impressed him that way. They didn’t have that much nerve. They were scared kids with guns and badges.

  They were doing the main drag, and the first of several bars was just up the street. Jackson brought up the rear, sauntering along at a relaxed pace, and every so often casually glancing to the rear as the troopers on the outside observed the other side of the street and those on the inside looked into shop windows and kept an eye out for alleys and possible tripping hazards.

  ***

  “So you bought them a beer. Good for you.”

  “Ah, yes, sir.”

  Lieutenant Shapiro was reporting in from the privacy of his own room.

  He went on as the Commander gazed back, seemingly pleased and asking few questions so far.

  “Tomorrow we’ll do a number of restaurants and coffee shops. The other teams are looking for apartment buildings, and the sort of places where someone might get any sort of employment. After tomorrow, one more big sweep. Then we head out of town.”

  They would do a tour of nearby villages as there was a kind of direct route between them, almost like a ring route around a major city, with one big gap in the southeast. No one really lived there. Going by the map, it was all marsh and then the river delta.

  It was named Capital River. Newton had the impression Burke was suppressing a grin, but he couldn’t be quite certain. There was television noise in the background, so that might account for it.

  “That seems adequate. Word will get around.”

  “As far as I can tell, the shuttle is secure enough, or as secure as it’s going to get with none of our own people guarding it.”

  “Yes, we’ll monitor it. Anything else?”

  “No, sir.” He wondered if he was missing anything, hopefully not.

  “That will be all, Lieutenant.” The skipper’s image blanked out and Newton shut his end down.

  It was ten to twelve p.m. and time to check on the men. He wondered where he could get a can of cold pop around there, at this time of the night.

  He needn’t have bothered.

  Chapter Five

  Trooper Hernandez Was Clad in Clingy Pajamas

  He came out of his door just in time to see Trooper Hernandez, clad in clingy pajamas, white with something in red, perhaps little red teddy bears all over them, come out of her room and go scooting off up the hall away from him.

  Newton stood bemused, as she turned and quickly entered another room with something in her hand…it looked like liquor.

  Closing his own door, he went down there, not quite sure which door it was, but the buzz of talk behind the door of room 509 meant this one almost had to be it.

  He momentarily considered what to do, and he was about to turn away when the door snapped open, another young female trooper came out, bumped into him, and then stepped back with a gasp and a fearful look on her face. What he saw over her shoulder was a room full of people.

  The door clicked into place behind her, but it was a bit late for that.

  “Trooper.”

  “Sir?”

  “What’s going on in there?”

  Trooper Khan snapped a perfect salute, straightening up with a visible gulp.

  ***

  It was a scene reminiscent of a college dorm party or a senior class trip Newton had once been on.

  A haze of blue smoke hung in the air. There were bodies and faces everywhere. He wondered who was missing, but there were near a dozen, male and female. Bottles and cheap plastic glasses stood everywhere. The wastebasket was full of ice. A little beer wouldn’t have been a problem and they were off duty until oh-six-hundred the next morning. This was just a little bit different.

  They wouldn’t be in much of a shape for their patrols, and they really should have taken it a little more seriously.

  In some ways, he couldn’t blame them. They were off the ship, and in different circumstances he might have overlooked it. The trouble was that it was his mission.

  It was a poor reflection on him. The truth was that he hadn’t issued orders specifically against it.

  That was obviously his fault. Although fraternization between officers and men was officially frowned upon, they appeared to be all enlisted personnel.

  He looked around, standing just inside the door as they ignored his presence. It was a strange moment, to see them like this. They had no idea he was in the room.

  “Where’s the controller?” He wanted to turn the music down so he could talk to them.

  “Huh? Oh, shit!” Someone turned the noise down and faces swung towards him in shock.

  A couple of them stood up abruptly, but he waved them off.

  “It’s all right.” He looked around the room. “Where are the others?”

  There were shrugs and blank looks.

  “Who else is here?” No one answered.

  The bathroom door opened and a different smell came out in dribs and drabs.

  “Hey! What happened to the music?”

  Newton spun.

  “Mister Faber.”

  The girl was in Faber’s lap, he was seated on the toilet and she giggled and nuzzled up to his neck.

  Faber said something Newton didn’t catch and she squeaked and clambered off of him. Thankfully she at least still had her pajamas on or it might have gone worse for Faber—all of them, really, especially Newton himself.

  She scuttled out of the bathroom, head down and face flaming with either indignation or embarrassment, Newton didn’t much care which.

  “Mister Faber?”

  “Ah. Yes, sir.” Faber came out into the room and stood at attention, a bottle of cheap whiskey still hanging from his hand.

  His tunic was open at the neck, a minor infraction by any standards.

  “The party’s over, Mister Faber.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get this place cleaned up. Lights out in five minutes. You are all confined to your personal quarters until further notice unless you are on duty, in the dining room, the pool, or transiting the hallways. Or until I say so. Is that understood?”

  There was a chorus of muted responses. He impaled Faber with a glance, noting the wilt and the inability to look him in the eye. On the plus side, it was a good time to establish his authority over them and he exploited it to the hilt.

  “Who’s missing?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Oh, ah…”

  “Never mind.” Finally Faber met his eyes, shame-faced. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  Newton was tempted to tell him that he was a liar, but that was no way to go about it.

  “Report to me in ten minutes, Mister Faber.” Newton should have been angrier, as it was, he just felt disappointment and a little sick to his stomach.

  He made one more announcement.

  “I suppose I should have made my wishes more clear. However, no harm done. Ladies and gentlemen, you are here, on duty, and this is not a vacation. You will behave in a manner calculated to reflect well on your uniform and our Service.”

  You could have heard a pin drop.

  “That will be all, ladies and gentlemen.”

  He turned and
stalked out of the room. He had the presence of mind not to slam the door or anything as the hotel had other guests and it would have been superfluous as well as rude.

  What the hell did he expect from them? He wondered if he was taking it too seriously.

  Self-control was paramount in command functions. There was still the trooper in the hall.

  She stood there at attention in her pajamas. Without speaking, he pointed down the hall to her quarters. She saluted and departed with one quick backward look.

  He couldn’t even remember her first name.

  For the moment, he couldn’t quite recall where he had been going when all of this started.

  A stiff drink preyed on his mind. Should he or shouldn’t he?

  The memory of blonde Jillian Marlowe, one of the prettiest girls on the ship, and Wilfred Hatcher, engaged in heavy petting on the biggest chair in the room lingered. Deep inside he had to acknowledge some masculine jealousy. Objectivity was the best trait of a commander and he took a deep breath. It was none of his business, and yet something screamed inside of him.

  He definitely needed that drink.

  Technically, they were all off-duty for the sleep-cycle, yet standards must be kept. He’d never really understood what that meant before.

  Newton went looking for the Ensign with some trepidation, praying like hell she had more sense. When he knocked on her door, it was with some gratitude that he heard her voice, muffled by the thick wooden door. When the door opened, she stood there in a long flannel nightgown, not that it did much to hide her good looks. Her disheveled hair detracted nothing from her feminine attraction, another thing which sort of ate at his guts from time to time.

  The Service was hell, and everybody said that.

  “I’m so sorry to disturb you, but would you throw something on and report to my room please?”

  The look of confusion on her face, and the straightening up, and her sketchy salute did nothing to relieve his feelings at all, although the sight of her bedside light and a reader laying there on the night table was somewhat reassuring. As to whether anyone was standing just around the corner of the room and out of his sight, he perhaps preferred not to know.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re not in trouble.” This seemed to shock her into wakefulness. “I would like you to witness a little conversation I am about to have with one of our people.”

  “I’ll be right there, sir.”

  Without a word, he turned and stalked off down the hallway. He had been going down to the hotel bar, which was his prerogative, but it did make him wonder about himself. Was he in that much of a hurry to return to civilian life, where you could just do what you wanted when you wanted it?

  That was a hard thing to determine.

  ***

  Faber’s face was carefully composed in a mask of indifference. He stood, ram-rod straight, in front of Newton and the Ensign, both seated in plush chairs by the window at the end of his room.

  “I want a list of everyone in that room.” Newton, as tired as anyone after the day’s patrols, tried to keep a note of dejection out of his voice.

  And this was only day one.

  The Ensign remained silent.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There will be no disciplinary action. It will remain suspended, it might be more accurate to say.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Newton waved him off.

  “What’s that red-haired girl’s name? The one with the big…the one with the big chest.”

  Faber blushed.

  “Grimaldi, sir.”

  “I like you, Faber.” This was the sort of thing that was often left unsaid, but in these circumstances…

  Faber said nothing. What did Newton expect? He didn’t give a damn what Faber thought, when you got right down to it.

  “How old is she?” The Ensign spoke up now, although Newton hadn’t had much time to brief her.

  Faber reddened, swallowed.

  He was unable to look at the Ensign.

  “Twenty, sir.”

  “I see.” She jotted something on a pad. “Thank God she’s over eighteen, eh, Faber? You’d be up shit creek without a paddle, wouldn’t you?”

  “Er…yes, Ma’am.”

  “Mister Faber.”

  “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “How old are you?” The Ensign was quietly relentless.

  Faber was a good soldier and probably capable of breaking either one of them in half in the physical sense. He flushed even redder.

  “Thirty-eight, Ma’am.”

  Newton made no further comment on that score. He spoke up again after admittedly enjoying the performance.

  “Faber, I need these people clean and sober, first thing tomorrow. How many drinks did you have?” Newton wasn’t looking for trouble, but when it came to him, he had a few skills.

  Faber thought about lying, Newton could see it go through his mind.

  “Four or five, sir.”

  “Yes.” Newton waited a long moment.

  The air got very still and the room must have seemed very warm to Faber, as beads of sweat glittered on his forehead.

  “All right, Mister Faber. That will be all.”

  “Yes, sir.” Faber turned to go.

  He paused at the door and turned back. His mouth opened, perhaps to offer some word of explanation or apology.

  The look on Newton’s face stopped him cold.

  “I don’t want to hear it, Mister Faber.”

  “May I say something?” The Ensign looked over inquiringly.

  “By all means.”

  “Mister Faber, there is a great gulf between officers and the enlisted personnel. There are gaps, social gaps if you will, between officers and non-commissioned officers. But your job is to bridge that gap between officer and enlisted ranks.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “You have a tough job. No one is questioning that. As long as you do it well, very few questions will be asked.”

  Newton put in an oar.

  “Just take care not to get caught in the middle, which might be very uncomfortable for you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Ensign had more to say.

  “You have to be their friend, their buddy, sometimes like a father or mother to some of them. We understand all of that. They are very young. But if you lose their respect, then we will have no further use for you. At least at your current rank, and in your present position.”

  “I understand, Ma’am.”

  “You are dismissed.”

  Quietly, the door closed behind him.

  Their eyes met. She grinned hugely, and he couldn’t help but to respond as it was genuinely contagious. She was enjoying this.

  “I’m sorry to have had to bother you, Ensign.”

  “That’s all right, Lieutenant.” She grinned happily.

  Neither said anything more for a moment, and then he nodded, indicating the door with a wave of his forearm, and finding himself unable to stifle a yawn. What he wouldn’t give for a friend right now.

  He said as much.

  “That’s all right, sir.” A quirky grin crossed her features. “I wouldn’t have missed that for the world.”

  She got up to go, and Newton considered offering her a drink but the hour was late enough as it was.

  Then it was her turn to pause at the door.

  She turned.

  “Onboard the ship things are a lot easier. At least there, they know their duties and understand the routine. I hope I was of some assistance.” She waited for this to sink in and went on. “They’re not bad people, as I see it.”

  No, and that was just the trouble.

  “You were great. I couldn’t have put it better myself.” He yawned, and then shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs.

  Everyone knew what cobwebs were. Funny thing about space-ships, they still had cobwebs. For all of their material and technological progress, some things remained the same and likely would unt
il the end of time. Deep-space missions were a curious mix of the mundane and the sublime.

  Even doing laundry for a thousand people had its challenges, yet it was also crucial to morale to be clean yourself, and to look after your people.

  “Thank you, Ensign. And I’m sorry to keep you up so late. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, sir.”

  There was one more thing to do, and then he could go to bed.

  But if the events of the last half-hour were any indication, and of course they were, he had better make a quick check around and see if anyone else was missing or unaccounted for. He was doing bed-checks, for Christ’s sake. He shook his head at the thought.

  For someone in command of even the smallest group of human beings, the work was never done and the responsibility was acute.

  He was beginning to see why these particular troopers were considered dispensable. Maybe they were just young. The ship really was a whole different environment. But they might very well have bivouacked right at the landing field, and subsisted on field rations. They just didn’t see that.

  For one thing, it would be a hell of a lot cheaper.

  Perhaps he should have spelled it out a little more clearly for them. This was his failure, and his alone, the way he saw it. Surely it was how the Commander would see it.

  This was just the tip of the iceberg. And it could have been so much worse.

  Chapter Six

  Hank Felt Like a Fool

  Feeling a bit of a fool, Hank was back at worship the next Sunday.

  For some reason Leviticus always left a bad taste in his mouth and it was a sore trial just to sit through it. The fervent Amens of the congregation may have had something to do with it, or perhaps it was the fact that ten percent of them must be hypocrites.