by Britt Ringel
Troy Pagnosky had demonstrated enough leadership to be slated into one of just three OT captain positions. Furthermore, he accomplished the feat entirely without self-promotion. Twist had taken an immediate liking to the man who possessed the rare ability to take any task seriously enough to excel at but lightly enough to make accomplishing it fun.
Troy deserves that spot more than anyone else, Twist thought while marching with his flight down the wide walkway toward the main OTS academic building. And, it sure will be nice to have a flight member that high up in the OT rank structure. Twist knew that Pagnosky would never abuse the authority bestowed to him by the four, thick gold braids on his upcoming epaulettes but he also knew that Pagnosky would look after his flight.
It will be nice to have an actual rank, Twist thought with anticipation. Even if it’s only an OT rank… and even if mine is only going to be OT lieutenant, junior grade. Unlike Pagnosky, Twist had not set the OTS program on fire. Although he had scored high in the academic tests and his physical conditioning was above average, by his own design he purposely made no effort to stand out like many of his other classmates.
The relish of obtaining an OT rank and becoming an upperclassman was diminished by the thought of just how junior his slated rank would be and how it might look to his mother. His older brother, Logan, had achieved the rank of Cadet Captain when he had gone through the four-year Naval Academy on Bree. Twist’s eyes began to burn at the memory closing in on him.
Instead of succumbing to the past, Twist concentrated on the “jody” his flight was singing. The military cadence offered a rare opportunity for creative expression while keeping the flight marching in proper time. This morning’s jody was gleefully informing Squadron 3’s real commander, Commander Hailey, that her Tigers were on their way to school.
* * *
The standard morning uniform inspection went smoothly for Flight 3-12. This far into training, each OT had learned the expectations and how to wear a uniform properly. By the time Lieutenant Boslet released the OTs to their seats, Twist’s stomach had tied itself into knots. The apprehension was not from the recent inspection but for what was to come.
Boslet confidently strode to the front of the small classroom to retrieve his datapad resting on the lectern. After checking its chronometer, he tapped orders into the small, thin device. Behind him, a large wall screen blinked away from “window” mode. The screen’s image, formerly displaying the quad next to the McGarner Building of Higher Military Instruction, winked to reveal a blue screen and a 223-second countdown.
There was light conversation in the classroom, although Twist waited in a fretful silence. Unable to focus on any particular discussion, he instead concentrated on controlling his breathing. He wanted to shrink behind his desk. She had yet to appear and already his cheeks were flushing with heat.
All discussion stopped when the countdown struck zero. The blue screen faded and an attractive woman appeared. She was dressed in an exquisitely tailored Straxide business suit that proudly displayed the Republic flag on its collar. Blonde hair reached her shoulders and was styled to perfection. Although she did not need makeup to appear striking, masterfully applied cosmetics enhanced her natural beauty. She was a woman past her youth but the years had done little to diminish her splendor and, in fact, nobly sculpted her face to a form of magnificence that a younger woman might envy.
A muted, mischievous whistle sounded behind Twist followed by chuckles from not only the other OTs but also Boslet himself. After several seconds though, Boslet gave the class one of his looks, notifying the students that enough was enough.
The catcall had made Twist blush fiercely as his stomach threatened to pirouette inside him. He tried to exhale slowly to ease the discomfort. Relax, Caden. Twist isn’t a totally uncommon name.
The woman on the wall screen commanded the attention of everyone in the room through appearance and reputation alone. The succor of her voice completed the spell cast moments ago and Flight 3-12’s classroom, along with every other lower class classroom in the building, became enraptured by the woman known as The Voice of the Republic.
The brilliance of her smile matched New London’s primary star. “Greetings, cadets and officer trainees. My name is Sabrina Twist.”
Caden felt an involuntary jolt course through his body as his mother used their surname. He fought the urge to look around to see if anyone had noticed his reaction. Ahead of him, the well-rehearsed introduction continued.
“It is my privilege to introduce the next standard of behavior to you: Republic Principles and History. Over the next week, your training officer will instruct you not only about our treasured past but how fragile and unique our way of life remains to this day.” The woman’s intense eyes perfectly matched the single blue stripe running down the left side of her suit jacket. Called “Republic Blue” throughout Brevic systems, the coincidence was yet additional evidence that Sabrina Twist was born to be one of the Republic’s greatest publicists. The smile between her words so captivated that it was difficult for even her own flesh and blood to determine where a “Republic” smile began and a genuine one ended. The lilting soprano of the woman’s voice continued its hypnotic sway.
“With great foresight, our founders recognized that we must break free from the corruption and stagnation that has gripped the Solarian Federation for over a century. Our ancestors fought and died to break away from the venality of the Federation, to offer their children the promise of freedom through the birth of our Republic. Our liberty was secured with their blood and only through our continued dedication to government and our unswerving devotion to our ideals will this Republic remain strong. While callous and morally bankrupt entities like the corporate star systems or the evil empire of the Hollaran Commonwealth may scoff at our antiquated ideals, we cherish and honor the ways of our ancestors.”
The camera perspective of Sabrina Twist changed subtly. What started as a face-level shot moved nearly imperceptibly downward. The delicate change of view gave the impression of a paragon preaching to her congregation.
“Service before self, integrity to the Republic and excellence in all we do. These are the principles that each Brevic officer must demonstrate with their every breath.”
A slight sigh escaped the woman’s painted lips. Her look softened considerably and cobalt eyes shimmered.
“Today, we are at war, facing a threat greater than any our precious Republic has ever known. The Hollaran Commonwealth has exposed its wicked heart to all with its bloody attack on our peacekeeping forces in the Anesidora star system. Over twenty-thousand Brevic lives were lost in that bitter contest but from the ashes of Anesidora arose a firestorm of righteous anger welling up from our people.”
The tender emotions from the onscreen angel swept away with her next words as her jawline hardened with fierce determination.
“And so, common Brevics, men and women like you, have answered our government’s call to rise up and fight the tide of evil that washes in from the Commonwealth. This war will be costly but every Brevic citizen knows that you will place their needs above your own. The General Council understands the depth of the oath you have sworn and governs comfortably in the knowledge that you will safeguard our Republic as our ancestors did before us.”
The flawless smile reappeared. “You are the Republic’s best hope for peace. The fate of your worlds, your families, depends on your actions in the face of Hollaran aggression and as we sail from victory to victory, the spectrum of humanity will watch in wonder as Brevic superiority wins the day.”
The electricity in the air was palpable to everyone inside the classroom. Even Caden, who had grown up around such inspiration, felt gooseflesh break out over his arms. The screen faded to blue but Lieutenant Boslet remained seated for a brief time, unwilling or unsure how to follow such an act.
Orphaned and homeless in her early teens, Sabrina Twist had enlisted in the navy at the age of sixteen. Her tenacity and single-mindedness even then nearly
ended her career before it began. During Basic Training, young Twist had constantly pushed her Technical Instructors, following every order with precision and demanding more and more challenges until she was leaving her fellow recruits far behind. Extremely unpopular in training, Twist’s ambition only engendered further conflict in the regular navy. While high-level non-commissioned officers raved of her competency and enthusiasm, immediate supervisors and peers detested the hypercompetitive woman who refused to take a backseat to anyone.
After only three years in the navy, she obtained a degree in Public Relations during her off-duty time. Her supervising petty officer insisted she apply for Officer Training School, not only because he believed she would excel but also because he could conveniently relieve himself of the annoying spaceman who was always pushing for more.
Sabrina Twist cleared the hurdles OTS offered with the same meticulous obsession she had practiced her entire life. Further, she obtained an advanced degree in Public Guidance during her first years as an ensign sitting behind a sensor panel in Astrogation. The graduate degree was necessary for career advancement but also birthed in Twist a deep love for the finer arts of shaping public opinion. Her youth had taught her that there were certain problems that hard work and determination could not solve and as she climbed the ranks, she deftly avoided such obstacles.
Nine years and a Ph.D. in Public Policy and Control later, Lieutenant Commander Twist was the first officer of a command cruiser and awaiting the chance to pounce on a starship captaincy. During that interminably long wait, she authored numerous articles that were published in both military and civilian journals. One such article, entitled “Influencing the Obvious,” gained the attention of the Minister of Public Relations and Information himself. Just six months into her first command, Sabrina Twist retired with the rank of navy captain.
The decision to step away from the navy was a difficult one for her but the challenges offered by the ministry were too tempting for someone so goal-oriented. Twist’s singular obsession in the navy had been starship command, a dream already obtained. Minister Nelson now tantalized her with the challenge of leading an entire people. True, she would not be making the decisions of actual governance but she would present those judgments to every man, woman and child inside the Brevic Republic. Many of those decisions were difficult ones. Many demanded sacrifice. Sabrina Twist, so appropriately named, could inspire the public into not only accepting the government’s will but contorting the mandates into something they would embrace it.
Twist knew but one direction: up. Now “The Voice of the Republic” had come to embody the Republic itself: strength, beauty, resolve and assurance. That embodiment was carefully sculpted with mixtures of truth and mendacity. It had been painstakingly molded by a combination of jingoism and authority. Her voice was both nurturing mother and velvet-gloved taskmaster to a republic that often required a maximum effort from its people.
The rewards of such a position were many but for Twist, the true reward was the next, ever-increasing challenge. If completing the task required a little misdirection, a modicum of prestidigitation, then she made such a sacrifice for the greater good. Every chipped piece of integrity, each slice of virtue hewn from her soul was selflessly offered upon the altar of the Republic’s needs.
* * *
The opening chapters of the week’s new “standard of behavior” filled the remainder of Caden Twist’s morning. The appropriately named standards of behavior, or SOBs, were the collections of lessons taught to all budding officers whether over the course of four years, as in the case of the Naval Academy, or hyper-condensed into sixteen weeks for OTS. Twist followed Boslet’s lecture throughout the morning, adding personal notes on his datapad. There were practical bits of knowledge for “principles and history” but most of the SOB promised to be a lesson in rote memorization. This pleased Twist, as it played to a strength.
Now marching at the lead of the formation with Flight 3-12’s guidon, Twist took comfort that, as of yet, no one else had connected the rather linear dots leading to his surname. He had been dreading this standard of behavior, knowing that his mother always introduced the lesson with a patriotic speech. Kirkpatrick asked Twist on Training Day 3 if he were related to the famous Captain Sabrina Twist (retired), now Assistant Secretary to the Republic’s Minister of Public Relations and Information. Twist feared that it was a question of when, not if, the rest of his flight would realize they were marching with such a famous legacy.
OT Pagnosky shouted the preparatory command for the flight to turn right and Twist instinctively prepared for the step, pivot and half-step sequence. He had been very sincere earlier in the morning when he told Kirkpatrick how proud he was of his mother. After all, how could a son not be proud of a mother who started with nothing yet reached such heights?
Pagnosky shouted the second half of the command and the flight turned in orderly fashion. Once facing the new direction, 3-12’s driver bellowed “Forward, Harch” from the rear of the flight.
Twist immediately increased the half-steps taken after the turn into normal strides. He tightened his grasp around the flight’s guidon, leveraging it against his wrist and forearm. The dread that his identity might be exposed began to fade. I can just lay low and graduate, he thought with a deep relief. No unrealistic expectations, nobody sucking up to me to curry favor. I can just be me. Well, the “new” me.
The “old” Caden Twist never wanted to be a military man. He had left that demanding, often brutal, lifestyle to a brother who excelled at such things. As the younger child, Caden became used to the expectant looks cast his direction given the impressive accomplishments of his mother and older brother. However, he had never grown used to the inevitable disappointment from those same expectant eyes when his own inadequacies became clear. Compared to Logan, Caden was a lesser athlete, a lesser academic and worst of all, a lesser leader. He still felt shame as he thought of all the times that professors, friends and colleagues expected him to be able to save whatever situation they were in, be it a few points down in a game of slamball or a pop quiz in the classroom. When compared to his legendary brother, he inevitably let his peers and teachers down.
The OTS dining facility came into view and Twist’s stomach tightened. I’m just not good under pressure, he admitted to himself. This fact was glaringly obvious to him even if his family refused to believe it. Sure, give me some time to prepare and I can manage things with the best of them but I just can’t come through in the clutch. Directly after his general schooling, Caden had worked for his father as a general contractor for Twist Construction and he longed for his old, comfortable life. The myriad of details, the ocean of never-ending logistics that brought other workers to tears were merely interesting and complex problems in coordination and systemization for Caden. The job had offered him a deep satisfaction and contentment. It was the first time in his life that he felt proud of himself, even if his mother might have indifferently lamented the waste of her younger son’s talents. Fortunately for Caden, Logan Twist garnered all the success his mother had required of her offspring.
The Twist family way of life seemed in homeostasis until Sabrina Twist’s legacy was torn from her. Caden could still remember the day his mother informed him, via a standata message, that his brother was dead. Logan Twist had fallen victim to an accident in his quarters aboard the heavy cruiser, Warhammer. Three days later, Sabrina informed Caden in person that the entire family would have to sacrifice to fill the fissure Logan’s death created. After much discussion, Caden applied to Officer Training School the next day. Before Logan’s remains had been returned to Thalassa, Caden had gained acceptance into OTS, impossibly fast if not for the influence of his mother. Less than two weeks later, Caden had shipped out to New London in the afternoon, after burying his only sibling that morning. He chose to believe that the timing, arranged by his mother, was just her way of helping him focus on the challenges ahead.
Twist’s reflections were cut short as the flight
neared the mess hall. He felt familiar apprehension take hold over him with each step. As the flight’s standard-bearer, it would be his responsibility to report to the chow director waiting at the facility’s doors. The upperclassman held the responsibility to direct the numerous flights into the hall in an orderly fashion. Each flight had a specific time window to report to the director to ensure a steady stream of OTs rather than one, big flood.
Missing a dining window would be reported up the OT chain of command and would be bad news for the entire flight. Botching the reporting procedure only held dire consequences for the standard-bearer.
“Flight, Halt!” Pagnosky ordered as Flight 3-12 came to rest in one of the painted “parking zones” outside the facility. Several military training leaders, or MTLs, cruised the area like sharks swimming among the flights, watching… waiting. “Two more minutes, Caden,” Pagnosky informed.
Flight 3-12 had arrived early, resulting in a minor delay before Twist could report to the chow director. Reporting in early was as grievous a crime as being late. Twist let the guidon come to a gentle rest on the quickcrete.
Good morning, Chow Director, Twist mentally rehearsed. The time is—Oh! Be sure to look at your watch before you step off toward the director. The time is ‘X’. Flight Three-twelve requests permission to enter the dining facility. Whoops, be sure to salute first and then report in.
Twist had only reported to a chow director once before, very early into training when upperclassmen were titans wielding the power of lightning and very interested in using that power at the slightest malfeasance from the pathetic, unworthy lower class. He had stumbled over the reporting statement and taken an appropriate number of demerits, resulting in an excruciating weekend of remedial military training.
