by MK Clark
Don blinked. “Wait, what?”
“He’s giving you permission.”
“For?”
The professor laughed. “To join the Space Jumpers. It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” He handed Don a sealed letter and began to walk away.
Don looked at the letter in his hand, completely unsettled. Finally, he drew his eyes away from the envelope and shouted after the man. “How do you know my da?” The professor didn’t answer but just kept walking away slowly, hands resting in the deep pockets of his overcoat.
Resurfacing once more from his memories, Don sighed and sat up on his bunk. He looked at the letter lying open on the blanket beside him. It was a letter of permission. If he so desired, he could give it to the recruiter and join the Space Jumpers. But Don didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Now that he was finally able to join, he wasn’t sure that enlisting was the right thing to do.
“You worry too much,” Tony said when Don told him about the letter. “You’re making something a problem that isn’t, and then you’re trying to fix it when it doesn’t need fixing. Stop thinking about it.”
“But—”
“No buts. We are not going to get hurt because of you.”
“What about Guy?”
“Guy could have lost his legs falling down the Sierra Morena. We could all die tomorrow from an asteroid hitting Earth or a Zarwean attack. We can’t be afraid to walk out the door because something might happen to us. You can’t live your life letting the fear of what might happen direct you. And if you’re out there fighting the Zarweans, you’re keeping others safe.”
Don fingered the edge of the letter as he remembered the conversation. Everyone was telling him to go. Was he wrong to think he shouldn’t? Even his da, who had never considered the option, was encouraging him. And still… Why was he questioning himself? Was he really hiding, like Tyson had said? Was he afraid? It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?
Don grabbed the letter as he stood angrily, and then he pulled his tablet from his locker. Beneath it lay a book on piloting. He’d begun reading through it and studying it a few months back. Don shut the door slowly. His whole life had been leading up to this point. As far back as he could remember, joining the Space Jumpers was all he’d ever wanted. But things changed, didn’t they?
Not people, though. He could never change who he was, who his da was. So it really wouldn’t matter where he went, would it? He would always be the general’s son. He would never be able to outrun who he was.
The bell rang, and Don swore. He was going to be late. He took the stairs by flights, reaching the bottom in two leaps. He scrambled to get his feet under him and headed for the door.
“O’Hara! What are you doing? You’re going to be late!”
Don twisted his head in the direction of the voice, not bothering to slow his pace. The corner of his mouth twisted in a smile at Zeik on the other side of the parade ground, headed toward him, in very much the same predicament as Don. “Right back atcha!” he shouted over his shoulder, cold air biting his lungs.
Don stopped in front of the door, taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat from his face. Composed, Don entered the room, holding the door open for his classmate, who skidded to a stop and stumbled in after him. The bell rang again as the door clicked shut.
“Cutting it a bit close, aren’t we, boys?” Specialist Quinn asked, looking at them beneath raised brows.
“Sorry, sir,” Don said apologetically and took a seat.
“Won’t happen again, Specialist,” Zeik added between semi-controlled gasps. Don turned on his tablet as the specialist began speaking. He stared at it blankly for a moment, wondering what he was missing, and then cursed quietly as he realized what it was. He’d forgotten his e-pen. Something poked him in the shoulder as their instructor turned to face the blackboard. Don glanced at it and grinned, accepting the proffered pen. The specialist turned back toward them, still talking, and they mustered their most attentive looks.
“Thanks,” Don said when he handed the pen back to Luke at the end of class.
“You owe me dessert,” Luke answered without skipping a beat, “and all your notes.”
Don gaped. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“But dessert is the only edible thing on the menu!” he protested.
Luke shrugged. “Should have thought about that before—”
“Hey, guys!” Zeik interrupted. “Listen to that!” He held the door to the building open. Shouting, slamming doors, and rumbling engines greeted their ears. “They’re back!”
The six trainees who’d been left behind bolted. Despite enjoying their free time, all of them had been at least a little disgruntled with the situation and were eager to hear about their company’s experiences. Unfortunately, the buses had begun unloading while they were attending class, and the companies had scattered.
Don and Tony trudged back up the stairs to their dormitory, shedding their winter jackets as they went. They figured someone from their company was bound to be there, and if they weren’t, lunch was right around the corner. To their complete surprise, they found almost the entire company collapsed on their bunks in exhaustion.
“Wow,” Tony commented. “What’s up with you guys?”
No one answered. Tony and Don exchanged looks before heading back to their bunks. Tyson lay across his, one hand still clutching the handles of his bag.
“Ty!” Tony said and plopped down beside him.
Tyson groaned and cracked an eye open. “Whaddya wan’?” he mumbled.
“What happened to you guys?” Tony repeated the question he’d asked moments ago.
“We were annihilated,” Tyson replied, more awake now. “Our manhood was crushed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A bunch of girls whupped our butts.”
Don whistled softly and, after a moments’ silence, Tony burst into laughter.
It was a testament to Tyson’s weariness that he only managed the barest of scowls. Then his eyes shifted to Don. “So you’re still here,” he commented.
Don gave him a brief nod.
“Well, that’s that, then,” he finished and turned his head toward Tony. “Give it a rest, will you? My pride has taken enough damage.”
Tony struggled to keep his face straight, but after a few moments of staring at an irritated and depressed Tyson, he lost it. “Sorry!” he pleaded, voice filled with mirth. “You’re killing me! It’s one exercise out of one year of your life! It’s not the end of the world.”
“It is the end of the world!” Tyson said fiercely, sitting up without warning, and Tony’s mouth dropped in surprise. “Recruitment for the Space Jumpers is right around the corner! They only choose the best, and everything that happens here goes on your record. One little mistake, and you won’t get in. This is about more than our little reputation as a company, or the embarrassment of losing to chicks with pink frills and manicured nails. It’s about the rest of my life.”
“Hey, man!” Tony said holding his hands up in surrender. “Take it easy. You don’t have to jump down my throat.”
“He’s right, Ty,” Don broke in. “It’s not going to destroy your career. You’re one of the best trainees here. If they don’t take you, they won’t take anyone.”
“They’ll take the Black Knights,” Tyson spat. “They didn’t lose.”
Don nodded his approval at the news. “I’d have been severely disappointed in them if they did.”
“So it’s okay for us to lose, but not okay for them? You saying they’re better than us?”
Tony rolled his eyes at Don. “That’s not what he meant.”
“Actually, it is,” Don corrected. “They may not be better than us one-on-one, but as a team they are better than our company. They’re the best company. Everyone knows that. Even so, the recruiters aren’t going to leave you behind because your company did badly. Sure, they look at teamwork, but that’s only whether you’re
capable of working with others. They also judge your personal abilities, and that has nothing to do with the company you’re in.”
Tyson scowled at Don. “And just how do you know all that?”
Don shrugged. “The professor talked to us about it. He said since they were coming soon, now was as good a time as any for us to ask questions and get answers.” He paused and then said as an afterthought, “I suppose it’s a bit like promoting soldiers and selecting them for missions. That happens to be something I do know about.”
Tyson scoffed but didn’t say anything else, and Tony eventually tired of the silence and sought out some of their other comrades, who were more willing to talk about their adventure.
“So,” Tyson said after a while, “what did you do to pass the time?”
“Nothing much,” Don answered. “A little of this, a little of that, mostly whatever we wanted to do.”
“Ah. In other words, you sat on your bums all day?”
Don gave him a look of reproach. “How could you say that? We played games! We even held a tournament. I won the SA-13 and SMAW. Luke took the sharpshooter, and a Black Knight, John, won first with the pistol.”
“Good for him. He’ll be able to protect himself from flies.”
“Which just goes to prove my earlier point,” Don said smugly.
Tyson ignored him. “What games did you play? How come we haven’t done that before?”
“We organized a scavenger hunt, the clues being things we needed to learn, and raced to finish first. Otorru had us do rounds of virus, capture the flag, and king of the mountain.”
“What the hell is virus?”
Don grinned. “It’s actually pretty fun, like tag, only better. One person started as the enemy. If you were shot, you became the enemy as well and were equipped with a weapon of your choice when you were tagged. The last person standing wins.”
Tyson groaned, “Let me guess, that was…”
“Me,” Don finished, “and I came out on top when it was everyone for themself, too.”
“My baby’s all grown up and killing people.” Tyson sniffed and pretended to wipe away a tear. “I’m so proud.” Don shoved him, and Tyson laughed before sobering up again. “Seriously, though, you’d make a damn good Space Jumper.”
Don gave him a sharp look.
“I know, I know,” Tyson said quickly. “You don’t have permission. You don’t want to talk about it. I’m just stating a fact.”
Don pulled the slightly crumpled letter out of his pocket. “That’s not exactly true, Ty.”
Tyson took the letter and read it quickly. He looked up at Don in disbelief. “Don, this is great!” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “You got it! You get to go. How did you convince him?”
“I didn’t,” Don said. “He sent it on his own. Commander’s School decided that it wasn’t worth bringing me up this year, so they would wait till next, and then the general sent this.”
Tyson frowned a bit. “Surprise, shock, a little irritation, excitement, nervousness: these are all emotions I could understand, but I’m hearing confusion and indecisiveness. What seems to be the problem? This is pretty straightforward.” Don shrugged, and Tyson moaned. “You’re not still stuck on that self-righteous, idiotic idea of yours, are you? Come on, Don, this is a sign. You’re supposed to be a Space Jumper!” He paused and clapped Don on the shoulder. “If it’s not meant to be, you won’t get in, and then you can go to Commander’s School next year anyway. Why not just try for it?”
“I was thinking about doing that.”
“What have you got to lose? No, don’t answer that.”
Chapter 13
December 19, 625 T.A.
Three long, exhausting weeks later, Don walked outside a classroom door and breathed deeply. He glanced down the hall where a group had gathered, whispering quietly in the warmth. Voices buzzed in his ears, while his mind replayed the words he had just heard: “Congratulations, O’Hara. Get your gear. You’re going to space.”
With a grin, he turned right and ran down the hall, tackling Tyson in the entryway.
“You made it?” Tyson asked when he’d extracted himself from beneath Don. He whooped when he saw Don’s face split into a wide smile. “I knew it! I knew you could do it.”
“And you?” Don was barely able to contain his excitement. “Did you get in?”
Tyson shrugged offhandedly. “Of course, I made it. They wouldn’t take you if they didn’t take me! After all…”
“You taught me everything I know. I know.”
Tyson stuffed his hands into his pockets. “So what are you still doing here? Go get your stuff.”
“What about you?”
“Already here.” He nodded at a bag by the wall. “There are quite a few people with last names between Namm and O’Hara, you know.” He paused and looked at Don strangely for a moment, as if pondering something.
“What?” Don asked curiously.
Tyson shook his head and smiled. “Never mind. Get going! They won’t like it if they come to get us and you’re not ready.”
Don rolled his eyes and took off for the barracks, shivering at the abrupt change in temperature. He stamped his boots on the doormat and took the stairs two at a time, snow falling off his jacket as he went. His bag lay at the foot of his locker where he’d left it that morning. Don slid out of his damp winter jacket and laid it on the bed. He then pulled out his jumpsuit from one of the bottom drawers of the locker, where it had stayed during the past six months. He slipped into it and felt it pull against his shoulders. He stared down in horror at his ankles peeking out beneath the too-short material. The camp would have to forgive him or send him a bill, but Don could not go anywhere in his old space clothes. He changed a second time and grabbed the jacket off his bed. He looked at his bunk and the now half-bare locker, and turned away. He felt no regret.
Don threw his duffle bag against the lobby wall. A few others had joined the group since he’d left. As he looked around, he noticed most of the boys had the same problem with their old clothes and were also wearing their camp uniforms. Tyson was one of the few who had managed to squeeze into his old jumpsuit. Don couldn’t keep back a wry smile at the thought. Tyson would be furious if he realized what Don knew. Tyson was destined to be short.
“So,” Don said, coming up behind his friend, “do we have any idea how long this is going to take?”
“Nope,” Tyson answered with a shrug.
“I just talked to someone whose last name started with an s,” another boy cut in.
Don nodded. “Not long, then.”
“Yeah, they seem to be making good time.”
Don took his jacket off and threw it over his shoulder. “In any case, how many of us made it?”
Tyson laughed. “Not that it matters now.” Don shrugged, and Tyson continued, “But I know how you feel. So far?” He looked around, counting silently. “I’d say with Sooray coming in just now, there are six from Gabriel, counting us.”
“Out of thirteen trying for it, that’s not bad.”
“And it’s not over yet,” a voice popped up behind them. “I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed. Your ratio is better than ours.”
They turned and saw Matt grinning ruefully at them. “Say what?”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Most of my company ended up trying to get in. I think there were only eleven who didn’t want to, and so far, I’ve only counted nine of us.” Tyson’s smile grew as he looked from Matt to Don. This was fantastic news.
“Well,” Don said graciously, “we had good teachers.”
“We had the same ones!”
“Not our instructor,” Tyson said. “No one can beat Sergeant Cohan.”
Matt stiffened a little, then shrugged, waving a small goodbye as he headed over to a group of Black Knights.
“I wonder how that little guy got in,” Tyson said, shaking his head in surprise. “He’s just so… so small.”
Don laughed and refused to say anything when
questioned. He laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You remember that sharpshooter I told you about from the Black Knights?”
“The one who took out the Dragons with an SA-13?”
Don nodded. “Yeah, that one.” He glanced at the Black Knights again. “You almost managed to insult that very talented sniper.”
Tyson gawked. “You’re kidding me! That was him?”
“I told you he was short,” Don replied.
“But he’s tiny!”
Don just shook his head. Tyson really was in denial. He scanned the rest of the room. His face darkened instantly. There was one kid he would never forget or like. Tyson noticed the change. “What is it?”
“Hurdes,” Don growled.
“Who?” He looked in the general direction of Don’s stare. “Isn’t that the kid who called you a Zastard?” Don nodded, and Tyson cracked his knuckles. “Can I beat him up now? We’re technically not trainees anymore…”
“No, Ty,” Don snapped. “It’s still not acceptable. You’d be fined for damaging government property.”
“What if he met with a gruesome accident?”
The pleading in Tyson’s voice almost made Don crack a smile. “It would be my duty to reply truthfully to any question asked of me on that subject, and now I can’t honestly say I don’t know anything about it.”
Tyson scowled. “Whatever. It’s your grudge.”
The crowd of boys, waiting for their next instruction, now spilled into the hall and some of the classrooms. The noise had risen to a dull roar, and Don could see the companies grouping together, refusing to mingle. There were seven from Gabriel Company, and from the seventh they learned that was all their comrades who would make it.
Twenty minutes later, the three men who had interviewed them walked into the foyer, rendering the room silent in seconds. One of the officers stood in front of the other two. Don had recognized him the moment he’d first seen the man in the small room; he was an officer who had worked with his father more than once.
