by Lance Berry
She fell away, onto her back, lying splayed on the carpet… suddenly ashamed for Brad to see any of her nakedness as she began to weep openly. Brad’s mouth dropped open, he was uncertain how to respond. He sat on the bed in shock, watching helplessly as Mara closed her legs, drawing them up to her chest as urine stained the front of her skirt and she cried out loud like a newborn.
Chapter 11
Mara eventually calmed down enough that Brad was able to ask her what size skirt she wore. He then went to the room’s vid-com and put in an express order to the general store in the hotel lobby for an exact replica of the one she had dirtied. He left the room and headed downstairs, returning a few minutes later with the new skirt. She was extremely grateful to him through her tears, and begged him not to tell anyone about the incident. He promised, but when he asked what had brought it on, she clammed up, shaking her head in vigorous defiance, eyes cast to the ground. He didn’t seek to press the matter further, and tossed the dirtied skirt in the recycle dump-chute on the far wall while she took her sweater and the new skirt and went into the bathroom to clean up.
When she finally emerged, she was fully dressed and looked perfect, save for the fact that she had a sullen, worn look about her eyes. Brad, fully clothed once more as well, started to say something. He thought better of it and simply reclaimed his spot on the bed as she left, the door’s lock automatically cycling shut behind her.
It was around ten o’clock when Mara left the hotel, and the base’s overhead lights had already switched over to night mode.
UEF had done extensive psychological research before building Alpha base, and it was reasoned that the humans chosen to live here would need to have standard division points between day and night, as one method of keeping sane since they were so far from Earth. The A.L.A.N. (automatic learning algorithmic nuances) smartware which autonomously ran many of the base’s systems performed the task of lowering the lights to simulate a standard night on a set schedule without fail. Street lamps came on, making it easier to traverse the base at such times.
Mara wanted to gather herself before returning home, so as to not have to endure any questions from her father. She hit the base’s secondary promenade, strolling through one of its parks in an effort to stall. Eventually she found herself abruptly tired and sat on a bench, the evening’s events replaying themselves in her mind unsought.
Everything had been going so well with Brad; the boy she had been attracted to for so long having called her out of the blue, going out on a date, and finally ending back at his hotel where they could make love undisturbed. She had been looking forward to having him as her first lover, so what went wrong?
Why had she reacted the way she did? She found it hard to believe that the events with Tallworth could have affected her so deeply, yet apparently they had.
She briefly considered seeking out a psychiatrist, but realized she hadn’t yet racked up enough study credits to afford one. Yes, her father could easily put out the Unicreds for her, but she didn’t want to burden him with such a thing…he already had enough on his plate, looking after her younger siblings when she wasn’t around.
Judge Warrington’s words of advice came back to her, stinging bitterly in her ear: “Stand up, get on with your life,” she had said, and she was right. In spite of what Tallworth had done to her, she had picked up right where she had left off before coming to Luna: she was now a top student in school, her relationship with her father seemed to be back on track, and the hottest boy in school had wanted to be with her. Not Janice Vicienzo—her, Mara Elliot!
I don’t need a damn therapist, Mara decided. She had made it through the worst experience of her life with God’s help and the strength her parents had bestowed upon her, and she would find a way to make it past this as well. She sat on the bench and prayed a while, then waited a bit longer before heading home. When she arrived, Mark and the children were asleep, and the subject of her night out was only briefly touched on at breakfast the next morning. She lied about who she went out with and how great the movie was, and said a silent prayer of thanks that her father believed her.
Chapter 12
The Deveraux Institute, located in Harrison, New Jersey, far exceeded Mara’s expectations. The school was fairly exclusive, only accepting those students whose academic achievements and strength of character denoted them as being capable of one day assuming the rank of Heavy Cruiser captain. Class sizes were small and tightly focused, with the emphasis being on why the chain of command is necessary, and how to maintain authority in any given situation.
Katie Long managed to make the cut in order to transfer to Deveraux with Mara—what Katie called her “tribute” in return for her friend following her to Westview from the Citadel. No one else that Mara knew from Westview made the grade though, and she was glad for it. Although Brad never did tell anyone about the incident in the hotel room, Mara knew she would never be able to look him in the eyes if he were on campus and in classes with her. As it is, she never returned any of the e-mails he had sent in his attempts to keep in touch. She was too embarrassed.
Mara returned home whenever possible, which wasn’t much. Each time she did though, her younger brother and sister seemed to be growing in preternatural spurts. Sara tried to understand why Mara couldn’t be around more when her elder sister explained about her scholastic responsibilities—yet the child still seemed to be growing a bit distant. Peter couldn’t get enough of his eldest sister though, and cried terribly every time she left to go back to school.
Before Mara knew it, senior year breezed on by, and it was time for one of her last courses: live action command of a Heavy Cruiser.
A light drizzle dampened the landing field where Mara and her cadre of seven other classmates stood at attention, all dressed in olive green parkas. The sun shone dully in the grey sky and it was still warm out, making the drizzle one of those annoying ones; just enough to lightly moisten clothing and get in the eyes, but not enough of a downpour to warrant staying indoors. Commander Douglas Tellner, a stone-faced man with close-cropped white hair in his mid-to-late forties, approached the group, likewise wearing a parka. Tellner had been Mara’s teacher in Command Principles during her time at Deveraux.
He was strict but fair, offering criticism where necessary yet praise when deserved. He saluted the cadre and they respectfully returned.
“Good morning, Cadets. I will be repeating this speech to several other classes today, but I will mean it no less as I address each one. Today marks the commencement of your final lesson in command principles: mastering command of a Heavy Cruiser and its crew. For this test, each one of you will take turns in the center seat of a working vessel. While we’ve run time on simulators, this is hands-down the real deal, and so you shall be judged accordingly.
“The ship will be staffed with a quarter complement of an actual Cruiser in the field, and you as captains will be in charge of maintaining a cohesive unit under training conditions beyond our star-system. Should you fail to fully apply the principles you have been taught, or not maintain said cohesive unit, you will have failed this course, regardless of your achievements beforehand.”
The cadets shared looks of apprehension and astonishment.
None of them had expected such a declaration, and indeed, Tellner had given no hint such an outcome could occur during any of their sessions. The commander gave his statement a moment to sink in, then continued. “I know that you probably feel this decision is unfair…yet as I’ve stated many times, the field of battle—whether ground-based or among the stars—is rarely fair. This school exists to turn out HC captains, not potentials or could-be’s or hopefuls. You either cut it up there today,” he said with a brisk glance skyward, “or you start checking job applications in the private sector.” He uttered these last two words with a particular disdain in his voice, then turned and pointed to a waiting troop transport a few yards distant. He called for his cadets to move out, and Mara and her cadre obediently followed.
&nb
sp; Soon, the transport had cleared Earth’s atmosphere and was sailing free into space. The course appeared to be for Luna, and Mara wondered what her family was up to, as she gazed out the forward viewport. The transport briefly made the jump to light speed, and indeed the moon loomed large outside the viewport as the small, boxy ship’s null field evaporated at the pilot’s command. At Tellner’s behest, the pilot curved the ship around the planet’s surface in a light arc, carrying the occupants around to the dark side. Several DFCs shot upward from the dark side of the moon in patrol formation—why they would be here rather than in closer proximity to Alpha Base, Mara could only wonder—and two broke from the group to swing past the transport. Tellner used the com to make brief introductions and give some type of passcode, and one of the DFC pilots acknowledged before he and his wingman resumed their place into their fellows’ formation.
Another slight variation in direction, and before long a Heavy Cruiser was visible. There were several “oohs” and “aahhs” of wonderment, before the class realized this Cruiser was shorter, more stout, than those they had seen in newscasts or through viewing of declassified tech specs on the Overnet.
Indeed, this ship somehow seemed…dusty, from a distance.
More worn and weathered than the proud and mighty behemoths which kept Earth and its colonies safe.
“That’s our ship?” Katie whispered to Mara, disappointed.
“Yes it is,” Tellner replied in irritation. Katie grimaced and sat back in her chair. She had forgotten how acute Tellner’s hearing was. He had busted her in class early in the semester for whispering to another student, and she had been seated more than twenty feet away.
Tellner turned in the co-pilot’s chair to more fully face his cadets as he spoke. “That is the Heavy Cruiser Warner. It is one of the last K-class Cruisers, two preceding classes removed from the M-class in current commission. It is just under a mile long, has lightspeed capability up to point five standard of artificial wormhole generation. While its standard weaponry has been decommissioned, it still possesses a minor laser complement suitable for our needs. Today, we will be taking the Warner out-system, far away from any areas of combat.
Once our training has finished, the ship will be brought back to the Hephaestus Shipyards and finally decommissioned. Let’s give the old gal a good send-off, shall we?” And to Mara’s surprise, Tellner smiled. It was the first time he had ever done that in the presence of his class, and it was a distinctly humanizing moment for him, in her eyes. She turned to Katie and shrugged in a “what the heck” kind of manner. Katie waited until Tellner turned forward to the flight console once more, then sadly shook her head at her friend.
Once they were aboard the Warner, Mara could tell from Katie’s expression that she felt the inside of the ship was even worse looking than the exterior. And to a degree, she admitted to herself, her friend was right. The hallways were half-darkened, several wall panels on the launch bay’s flight deck had been removed, with MPRS wiring mercilessly ripped out.
Crewmen milled about, tending to either fixing certain machinery or possibly rendering it unworkable—Mara couldn’t tell which.
As Tellner’s group passed a clutch of tech workers in the corridor, Mara noticed one of them thoroughly checking out her posterior. He blew her a kiss, and Mara made sure Tellner wasn’t watching before flipping him the bird. The man looked at her in astonishment, caught off-guard by her brashness.
Mara turned forward once more and allowed herself a satisfied smile.
The group boarded the lift, which began its ascension toward the bridge with an unsettling shudder. It sounded like the magnetic servos were whining in protest as the lift made its way upward. At the rear of the group, Mara and Katie held hands for comfort. Mara gulped quietly, hoping the lift would make it all the way, and then felt an uncomfortable tingle as she realized Katie had made a completely unmistakable gesture.
In the old days of the 21st Century, when homosexuals still faced threats of persecution for simply being who they were, there were different ways they found to signal another member of their genetic sexuality. Handkerchiefs placed in a rear pocket, t-shirts with rainbow emblems on them, and others.
Although in the 22nd Century, violent assaults against them were few and far between, some felt more comfortable with a newly invented signal. And so it was that as their hands clasped, Katie began gently rubbing her thumb back and forth against Mara’s.
Mara glanced out the side of her eye at her longtime friend, who remained facing forward, not looking at her at all. Katie’s breath was a little more rapid than usual, a little more anxious than she had ever seen. Mara stole a cautious glance downward, and her eyes locked on their clasped hands, the uncomfortable tingle still running through her as her best friend’s thumb continued to rub steadily—hopefully it seemed— against her own.
Mara firmly pulled her hand away, clutching it in her other as she looked at Katie—in bafflement, in disgust, in confusion, she had no idea what her expression looked like. Whatever it was, it cut Katie to the quick, and she glanced down at the floor, ashamed. Mara looked around anxiously at the other members of her cadre, and it seemed no one had noticed. Good.
Good.
The lift finally came to a chug-chug jostling halt. As the doors opened and Tellner led the group onto the bridge, Mara barely realized how wide a berth she was giving to her friend as they stepped out of the lift.
Chapter 13
Mara almost wished the lights on the bridge of the Warner had been half-dimmed. In addition to the air on deck being somewhat stale, this ship’s bridge was more compact than those of other Heavy Cruisers she had seen in photos. While it still held the same circular design, the six master consoles were placed together in a tighter grouping around the captain’s chair, which she imagined over time would lead to a sense of mild claustrophobia on the commanding officer’s part. The central viewscreen showed a picture of part of the moon with the stars beyond, although mild digital static occasionally clouded the image. The consoles had been dusted, but only with the barest effort. Mara held in a sigh. All I have to do is command this thing, she thought to herself. I don’t have to live here.
Tellner’s voice caught her attention once more. “All right, Cadets. For the next ten hours, this is your bridge. As I said earlier, each of you will take turns in the center seat while your fellows man the consoles. You’ve all studied the manuals on how to operate each of these terminals—after all, a captain has to know how to work every panel on the bridge in case of emergency. Now comes the time when all your practice is put into effect. Cadet Long!”
“Sir, yes sir!” Katie replied solidly as she snapped to attention.
“You have the conn. Once I call out console assignments, I will be handing out occasional orders of function, but otherwise doing nothing but observing while all of you go about your duties. Cadet Siesto…”
“Yes, sir,” another young woman replied.
“Since we are short one chair, you will stand at the rear of the bridge with me. My advice to you—to each of you in turn—is that when you are in this spot, you pay strict attention to your comrades’ successes and mistakes, as both will help you out at the right time. Long, your assignment is to take this ship to the outer edge of the solar system’s Main Belt of asteroids and hold position. I will give you further instructions at that time.”
“Understood, sir,” Katie replied eagerly. As Siesto took her place next to Tellner, the commander assigned the remaining members of the cadre to their stations, and Mara wound up at the tactical console. Katie signaled the engine room to begin powering up the ship, and Mara was proud of the authority her friend carried in her voice, the earlier uncomfortable incident between them now shoved to a rear compartment of her mind.
The engineering department answered affirmatively, and as the consoles on the bridge lit up one by one, the students began their pre-flight checks.
“Helm?” Katie queried.
“Helm on-line,
MPRS systems are go.”
“Navigation?”
“Navigation answers, oriented zero-zero-zero, point zero to galactic plane.”
“Ops?”
“Operations on-line, connected to all departments aboard ship.”
“Communications?”
“Com system on-line. Connected to all decks, with transpace linkup at the ready.”
