by Jerry Aubin
That explained how Mase qualified to enter the Academy so young. Of course, it would be wildly hypocritical of Zax to fault Mase for taking advantage of an influential mentor and getting into the Academy. If anything, he had new appreciation for the pressure the boy must be under. Having a mentor put her career on the line in your name was stressful enough, but that pressure must be significantly compounded for Mase by having to toil under the major’s direct oversight. The Boss was right—that relationship deserved careful observation as long as Mase and Zax were competing against each other.
The Boss looked back and forth at Zax and Kalare. “It will be good to have the two of you working for me together again. Go ahead and grab a seat. We’re about to start.”
They settled in and two mins later the Boss rapped his knuckles on the table to get everyone’s attention. The room went silent and all eyes focused forward on the Omega.
“Good morning, everyone. It’s unfortunate that we are having this first meeting here instead of Flight Ops. Maintenance has assured me they are completing the final items and will be ready for us tomorrow. I want to give you—”
The Boss was interrupted by Rege walking through the hatch. Zax’s stomach clenched at the sight. The civilian must have fallen back into his old grooming habits since Zax had last seen him, as the man’s hair was once again as stringy and unwashed as it was the day of the Revolution.
The Boss clearly fumed about Rege’s tardiness and the interruption it caused, but the civilian acted oblivious as he greeted a few of the other civilians present and made his way to an empty seat alongside them. The Omega took a deep breath and continued.
“As I was saying, I want to provide an initial briefing on what’s going to happen next. Plans are not yet complete, but they will be within a few days. Here’s what I know.
“We’re heading back the way we came to visit a sample of the colonies we’ve established. Our goal is to find additional traces of the other humans we believe are out here based on evidence that was discovered last year.”
The Boss glanced in his direction and Zax averted his gaze rather than meet the man’s eyes. It was a quick enough exchange that no one should have noticed, but Rege stared at him from the other side of the room. Zax focused on the Boss’s words again.
“Our exact course is not yet final, but initial expectations are that we’ll visit our first colony in six months. The rules of engagement with the colonists when we visit will be simple—we will not engage. The people we left on these colonies are no longer on board the Ship for a reason. There’s no purpose in reconnecting with them only to abandon them a short time later. We’ll use stealth drones to evaluate the condition of each colony and explore their planet for any clues about our fellow space travelers. If we see anything worth investigating further, we’ll send small expeditions instructed to stay well clear of the colonists. Any questions?”
Kalare raised her hand and the Boss acknowledged her.
“Sir—why is it going to be so long before we visit our first colony? We had a Landfall less than three months ago, and we can get back to that planet a lot more quickly since we know where it is and can head straight there.”
“Good observation, Kalare. There are three reasons why we won’t visit a colony for a while. The first is based on the old adage that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Depending on what we discover during the journey, we may find ourselves traveling all the way back to Earth. With that as a potential destination, we’re going to chart a heading that gets us there most efficiently and all of our more recent colonies are too far away from that path.
“Second, we must once again traverse the interstellar desert you all may recall that forced us to go years without a Landfall. We’ll be able to get through it far faster than the first time since we now have it charted, but even with FTL the distances involved in space travel mean it’s sometimes just painfully slow.
“Finally, we want to allow time for the civilians working with us to become more active participants in the operations of the Ship. The odds are high we may encounter hostile aliens as we revisit some of these colonies. We took the planets by force in many cases, so we should expect that other species may have subsequently done the same. We have no reason to do anything but immediately leave any system if we discover a threat, but we must still be prepared to defend ourselves.” The Boss gestured toward Rege and the other civilians who sat with him. “These four are now part of the Flight Ops staff, and you should all treat them the same way you would any clueless cadet who was just starting out. They will be working with Flight, Scan, Threat, and Weps.”
The Boss pointed at each civilian as he named their new stations and it took all of Zax’s control to not outwardly react when he saw that Rege had been assigned as Mini-Threat. He would have to share a station with the insane civilian and train the man! The Boss had to know the history between them—why would he ever make such an assignment?
“That’s it—you’re dismissed. Expect final confirmation later today, but we should return to our regular duty rotations in Flight Ops starting tomorrow. Get some rest. We’re going to be busy.”
The compartment exploded in tumultuous discussion as clumps of people considered the details the Boss had shared. A sly grin formed on Rege’s lips as he stood and strode across the room toward Zax. Any interactions with the civilian would be intolerable with the shock of having to work so closely with him still fresh. Zax stood and ignored Kalare’s calls for him to wait as he bolted from the compartment.
7
You're right, Alpha.
The Flight Boss returned to his quarters following the meeting with the new Flight Ops team. He was on the verge of apoplexy given how Rege had strolled in late, so the Boss took a circuitous route that allowed him to stretch his legs and clear his head. The walk only served to increase his agitation thanks to the sheer volume of civilians who clogged the passageways. Whereas in the past one might see a random maintenance worker or two in this part of the Ship, the civilians had overrun the area in the week since the Revolution. Almost like vermin. Almost.
When the Boss reached his quarters, he removed his workcap and threw it toward a hook affixed to the bulkhead across the room. It was a well-practiced maneuver, but the hat missed its mark and tumbled to the deck. The Boss ignored it and went instead to his desk. He tossed his chewed-up cigar into the waste bin and his spirits lifted in anticipation of his favorite ritual.
The rich, glorious scent of tobacco wafted out as the Boss opened his humidor and revealed a stack of precious cigars ten wide and five deep. He closed his eyes and took a dozen circular breaths. Whether it was from the breathing or the sight and smell of his cigars, the Boss’s pulse dropped ten beats almost instantaneously. He reached for his cutter and, as always, appreciated its heft. It was not some generic piece of crap spat out by a Replicator, but instead had been handcrafted around a blade the Boss lifted off the corpse of an alien he killed many years earlier. The cutter removed the end of the cigar with precision. The Boss put it in his mouth and took a long, unlit draw. Life would be nearly perfect with a fresh new cigar every day, but even he didn’t have enough power and influence to support that level of excess.
Power. What did the word even mean any more with the civilians running the show? Yes—the Boss still had authority over the Crew, but Imair was showing a propensity to exert far more control than the figurehead he had initially assumed she’d become. His Plug flashed a notification, and the Boss sighed when he recognized the source of the inbound communication request.
“Hello, Alpha. What do you need?”
“Good morning, Boss. I just became aware of the new duty assignments for Flight Ops and wanted to verify something. You’ve assigned Rege to be Mini-Threat. This means he will be in close contact with Cadet Zax, and this creates a combustible situation given their recent history together.”
Yet again with the second-guessing of his maneuvers around the boy. The Boss was playi
ng a tricky game with the Ship’s core Artificial Intelligence, but he had to stick with it if he was to have any chance of success.
“I understand the concern, Alpha. I’ve given the situation a lot of thought, and this was the approach I believed would best satisfy the long-term goals we’ve discussed. Is there something specific you would suggest I do differently?”
The AI paused uncharacteristically before responding.
“If you feel the situation is under control, then who am I to question your plans? On a different topic, I was speaking with President Imair and she has a list of requests that I wanted to discuss with you before I took any action.”
“Wait—what? You communicated with Imair directly?” The Boss’s initial frustration with Alpha was tipping toward rage. “Did I not tell you that any communications with the civilians should only be done in my presence? Why would you contravene a direct order like that?”
“Sir—I am not here to serve you alone. I serve the Ship, the Mission, and the command structure in that order. My understanding, provided by you, is that after Order Sixty-Six there was a legitimate transfer of final command authority from the Captain to a new civilian organization with President Imair at its head. If I am given instructions by a human who has appropriate command authority, I must follow those instructions. To do otherwise would violate my programming. I will do whatever I can to best reconcile your instructions with this situation. That is why I came to you before I took action on her requests.
“Furthermore, I am curious, sir, as to why you are so sensitive about this matter. Is there anything in particular you are concerned about President Imair learning through her interactions with me?”
The Boss paused for a deep breath. He absolutely had concerns—loads of them. Particularly around any discussion of Order Sixty-Six. What he was comfortable sharing with Alpha was an entirely different matter. Time to deflect.
“You’re correct, Alpha. I was being unreasonable in my expectations and my reaction to you. I haven’t slept much since the Revolution, and it has been nothing but nonstop political maneuvering since then. I always find that aspect of my job far more exhausting than anything else, so I’m burnt out.”
It was an obvious deflection, so the Boss imagined Alpha wanting to give him a good long stare in an effort to divine the truth. The Boss was no fool, however, and had removed all of the cameras from his compartment when he first moved in decades ago. In theory Alpha only accessed video feeds with explicit permission or a proper order from someone with the appropriate authority, but the Boss took no chances. Rather than allow Alpha to probe deeper on its line of questioning, the Boss changed the subject.
“That reminds me—how are things coming with the scenario evaluations I requested? Have you been able to identify any path by which we might be able to remove the civilians’ bomb threat as the source of their power?”
“Most of the permutations I have tested so far yielded nothing but the destruction of the FTL drive and the marooning of the Ship. I’m continuing to explore and expect to have another round of analysis done soon.”
The Boss smiled. The AI was a major pain in his ass sometimes, particularly given the angles he was forced to play right now, but there was nothing better in terms of brute horsepower for brainstorming and following each option through to every possible conclusion. There was no obvious way to neutralize the civilian bomb threat, but the Boss would be shocked if Alpha failed to identify at least a couple of viable plans given enough time to crunch the scenarios. He just needed to keep deftly playing both of the conflicts he was managing—against the civilians and against the Ship’s AI.
“Thanks, Alpha. Let’s get back to the requests that President Imair made.”
8
Sir, you already answered the question.
Zax woke early the next day after a fitful night’s sleep. His stomach was like a ball of knots that had been soaked in acid. Logic dictated he shouldn’t worry about working alongside Rege. It was impossible for the civilian to harm him with the Revolution over. However, every thought about the greasy sociopath triggered strong emotions centered on death.
The engineering cadet who died so Rege could make a point.
Rege’s brother who died so Zax could live.
Nolly.
Kalare.
Of course Kalare hadn’t actually died, but Zax’s memories from when he chose to sacrifice her life rather than use his blaster to kill Rege provoked the worst of his guilt and anxiety.
When reveille finally sounded, he skipped breakfast in favor of an extra-long shower (twenty demerits). There was no way he would keep food down for long so he soaked for a while instead in an effort to clear his head. The shower didn’t cure him, but it did provide enough benefit that he walked to his training session with the cadets from Gamma Cadre with a slight bounce to his step. He arrived early so he sat and focused on positive thoughts while he waited for his students. His last meeting with the group had not been a pleasant one, and Zax was relieved this would be his final class with them since they were about to move on to a new instructor.
There was a markedly different feeling in the air as the Gammas walked in. A week ago there had been nervous energy about the rampant unrest, and Zax had tried to calm the group and provide them with positive perspectives of the civilians. This memory was particularly ironic given the events that took place later that same day. The group now bounded in with enthusiasm. Zax was trying to figure out what might be causing such excitement when a hand went up. It was the cadet who had verbally sparred with him during their last meeting. Zax acknowledged the boy with more than slight trepidation.
“Sir—I’ve heard all kinds of rumors about what happened at the end of the Revolution and the role you played. Is it true that you killed twenty civilians and saved the Flight Boss’s life? That’s amazing, but I’m not surprised because I’ve always been so impressed with you. What can you tell us that we haven’t already heard on the newsvid?”
Zax kept his expression neutral while his emotions roiled. The boy had openly mocked Zax the last time they saw each other, and here he was fawning all over him. What was different about Zax? Nothing. The boy’s change in attitude was solely due to rumors about what Zax may or may not have done. How shallow. Zax silently stoked his indignation until he was ready to unleash a cutting torrent that would rub the boy’s face in his hypocrisy.
Zax opened his mouth but then stopped. What purpose would expressing his anger and revulsion serve? It would provide a hit of self-righteous satisfaction, but it wouldn’t change anything. The boy shouldn’t be faulted for his attitude. He was only a product of the system that created him—a system that stratified every human on the Ship into levels of relative worth. Zax’s rage needed to be with that system, not with this kid who simply manifested it. He paused for a sec and then delivered an entirely different response.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you and the rest of the class, but unfortunately I’m not at liberty to discuss those events. Let me just say that what you’ve seen on the newsvid is but a small slice of the actual story.”
The boy was visibly disappointed, as were the other cadets, but they acted as if they had expected a similar answer. Zax remembered the emotions associated with being that age. Feeling like you had already accomplished everything and should be an equal member of the Crew when in fact you were still just a child with so very much left to learn. Zax set aside the last lesson he was supposed to deliver (one hundred demerits) and instead gifted them with exciting information to use as social currency with their peers.
“I learned yesterday that we’re heading back toward Earth. This isn’t a surprise given everything we heard during the Revolution, but now it has been confirmed. The Omegas and President Imair will finalize plans soon, and it sounds like we will start traveling that way in a few days. At some point in the next months, we will make our first ever visit to one of our colonies.”
Zax captured the full attention of the Gammas and
they stared back at him wide-eyed. Time to impart some last measure of academic value while he had them engaged.
“Let’s pretend we’re heading straight back to Earth rather than stopping at any colonies. Who can tell me how long it will take for us to get there?”
A hand went up from one of the boys who rarely spoke and Zax called on him.
“If we’re just retracing our steps, sir, then it will take the same amount of time we’ve been traveling. Around 5,000 years, sir.”
“Wrong. Ten demerits for being incorrect, but I’m going to award you twenty credits for being the first to jump in and for speaking up for the first time in a while. Who can explain to the cadet the reason why he’s wrong?”
The girl who always sat up front raised her hand and spoke when Zax nodded at her.
“Respectfully, sir, there isn’t only one reason why he’s wrong. First, his answer doesn’t take into account that we actually know the fastest and most direct route back to Earth from where we are right now thanks to all of the prior scanning data that’s in the Ship’s records. When we left Earth, we were heading into unknown territory. A great deal of time during the last 5,000 years has been spent wandering around blindly searching for those few planets that sustain life.
“Second, we’ve spent an awful lot of time over the course of our journey standing still. We’ve established thousands of colonies, and each of those typically involved hanging around for weeks of scouting missions and preparations. Not to mention all of the times we’ve found some other intelligent species on an attractive enough planet that we decided to invest the time to evict the aliens.
“Finally, I have to believe that if we want to get to Earth as fast as possible, we can increase our pace of Transits. When we were heading out into the unknown there was no need to rush. This was particularly true once we realized habitable planets were far fewer in number than Earth’s scientists believed. Understanding how much longer the Mission would take than planned, captains throughout the years have maintained a Transit pace that is far less than we can tolerate if we want to get somewhere quickly.”
