by Jake Bible
“A sim squadron,” North said. “With sim psychology. Get those cadet pilots out into real space and I bet their concentration will increase considerably.”
“No way. Not going to happen,” Valencio said, shaking her head back and forth. “You might as well just call their mothers and give them the bad news, because these cadet pilots will be dead before supper.”
“I have aptitude scores right here,” North said as he brought up an image of a testing roster over his wrist. “I believe you have the same information. Figure out who is best suited to pilot and who should be copilots. Pair them up and get them in the vacuum. Take them out as far as possible so the screw ups can’t crash into Perpetuity. Once you’re a safe distance then put them through the paces.”
North wiped the roster away and crossed his arms. He leaned in close to Valencio and grinned a mirthless grin.
“Do your fucking job, Captain,” he hissed. “Or you’ll be back in the shit with the other burnt out fighter jocks. Is that what you want? Back in the battle where every second that ticks off is just another second closer to dying? I can easily arrange that.”
“Do you know what I sacrificed to get here?” Valencio snarled.
“Do you know how much I don’t give a fuck?” North replied. “Do your job or get the fuck off my station.”
North turned and stomped off then hesitated and pressed his wrist.
“Corridor lights to full,” he said then looked over his shoulder at Valencio and winked.
She quickly put her glasses on, took several deep breaths, and restrained herself from sprinting at North’s receding back and tackling the man to the floor. After a couple of seconds, she got herself under control then turned and marched into the simulation bay.
“Clear out, you pieces of shit! Sim time is over! Time to pop your space cherries, you little cunts!”
Eight
“Keep it moving, recruits!” Metzger shouted as the new arrivals poured through the transport airlocks and into Training Station Perpetuity’s recruit holding bay. “Do not slow down! Do not stop! Follow the colored lines above your heads! If you are in the wrong line then move your ass into the correct line! You do not want me to move you myself!”
There were thousands of faces, from all walks of life, that looked about the station as they jostled for room in a space designed to hold a fraction of their number. From the barely legal to the barely ambulatory, the recruits kept moving, urged on by Metzger’s shouts and his security guards’ constant prodding and herding.
“Invalid chip detected. Invalid chip detected,” a computerized voice rang out from the loudspeakers far above the crowd of recruits. “Invalid chip detected. Invalid chip detected.”
A bright red beam of light shot down from the ceiling and focused on a short man in his mid-twenties. At first he didn’t notice then as the crowd moved away from him he looked up and squinted into the light.
“What? No! I’m a citizen, vetted and true!” the short man shouted. “I ain’t no doubleganger!”
“YOU!” Metzger roared. “MOVE FROM THE CROWD AND GET YOUR ASS AGAINST THE WALL!”
“I ain’t no DG!” the short man yelled. “My chip is just fine! I’m from Loab! Loab is legit!”
“I don’t fucking care!” Metzger shouted as he and two of his guards shoved people out of the way to get to the man. Metzger had his scorcher to his shoulder and the laser sight put a bright red bead directly between the short man’s eyes. “Comply or die, fuckface!”
The short man threw his hands in the air and started to hurry from the crowd towards the far wall. As soon as he was clear of most of the bodies, two more guards grabbed him and nearly dragged him to the wall, throwing him roughly up against the dinged and pitted metal.
“Hold the fuck still,” Metzger growled as he got to the short man and spun him around. He pulled a small scanner from his belt and pressed it to the nape of the short man’s neck. “Recite the Earth pledge!”
“Do what?” the short man asked and received a punch to his gut for the trouble. “Okay, okay! For Earth we live, for Earth we fight. Earth is our home, Earth is our light!”
The short man continued through the eight additional verses of the pledge while Metzger watched the readings on the scanner. After a few seconds, the scanner beeped and a light turned green on the side.
“He’s clean,” Metzger said and shoved the man away from the wall and over to his guards. “Get him back in line and everyone back to their posts!”
The short man didn’t protest, even as he was manhandled by the guards and thrown into the crush of bodies still pouring from the airlock. Metzger watched the throng of recruits swallow him up then turned his attention to the ceiling.
“Invalid chip,” the computerized voice announced again. “Invalid chip.
“Son of a cocksucker,” Metzger growled then activated his comm as his men hunted down the new anomaly. “Linklater? You there?”
“Busy,” Linklater replied over the comm. “Call back later.”
“No can do,” Metzger said. “I am having a bitch of a time with the chip verification protocol in the main transport airlock. It’s given me eight false readings in the last ten minutes. I can’t do my job if I have to do this damned computer’s job too!”
“Hold on,” Linklater responded. “Let me see what’s up.”
A couple seconds went by.
“Linklater, you still there?” Metzger asked.
“I said to hold on!” Linklater snapped. Another two seconds. “Well, fuck, Metzger. The problem is you’re overloading the system! Who the hell authorized that many recruits to come aboard at once? No wonder you’re getting false readings. You’d be getting false readings if those numbers were half what they are.”
“Well, fix it,” Metzger said.
“Are you not listening?” Linklater asked. “The problem isn’t the system or the computer, it’s the numbers. There’s nothing to fix because there’s nothing broken. You’re just pushing through too many recruits.”
“No choice,” Metzger said. “Terlinger wants all of these idiots processed and lined up within the hour. We have an even bigger batch coming this afternoon. I couldn’t slow things down if I wanted to.”
“Then you are fucked and on your own,” Linklater said. “So let me get back to the work I need to do and don’t call me again.”
Metzger swore under his breath then moved into the crowd and started shoving people along.
“Move it!” he yelled. “Do not stop! Do not look around! Just move!”
Nine
Commandant Terlinger stood on the catwalk and looked out at the thousands of confused and scared faces. He gripped the metal railing, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing, over and over as the last few recruits were marched into the huge space below.
“Where is he?” Terlinger asked out of the corner of his mouth. “I want to get this going and I can’t start without him.”
“He’s on his way,” Corporal Ngyuen said, her finger to her ear. “He’s one corridor away, sir.”
“He shouldn’t be any corridors away,” Terlinger grumbled. “He knew what time I wanted to start and he knows we don’t have a second to spare anymore.”
“Right here, sir,” North said as he sprinted through a hatchway and onto the catwalk, his boots pounding on the metal grate, making the structure shake slightly.
Terlinger gripped the metal railing with all his might as the catwalk shook from North’s footfalls.
“Stand at attention, Major,” Terlinger snapped. “Show these people the discipline expected on TS Perpetuity.”
“Yes, sir,” North said as he stopped next to the commandant, turned on his heel, and shot his back straight. He looked down at the massive crowd below. “ATTENTION CADETS! EYES FRONT, EYES UP!”
The crowd quieted and the majority of faces looked up at the major and the commandant. But many faces were still looking around the huge space, studying the walls of the station, the stacked cra
tes of gear, the personnel that were running about performing their duties.
“Sergeant-at-Arms Metzger!” North yelled.
“Yes, sir!” Metzger called from below.
“Please have your men isolate those that did not obey my command!” North shouted.
“Yes, sir!” Metzger replied. He started pointing at the recruits that were looking this way and that, everywhere but up where they should have been.
There were loud protests from those that were singled out and pulled from the crowd and over to a row of stacked crates marked “RIMeals.” Once all were separated, Metzger nodded to his men and they all pulled stun batons from their belts and jammed the ends into the backs of the recruits. The men and women screamed at first, but then the sounds stopped as thousands of volts coursed through their bodies, freezing the cries in their throats.
“Thank you, Sergeant-at-Arms Metzger!” North shouted. “Return the recruits to their places!”
“Move!” Metzger yelled at the barely conscious men and women that leaned against the crates. “I said move!”
The stunned recruits shuffled and stumbled their way back into the quiet crowd. People stepped aside, almost afraid to touch the wobbly recruits for fear of becoming pariahs themselves.
“Now, EYES FRONT, EYES UP!” North yelled then took two steps back as the commandant cleared his throat.
“Thank you, Major North,” Terlinger said. “Welcome, new cadets. I am Commandant Terlinger and I am in charge of Training Station Perpetuity. The man directly behind me is Chief Training Officer Major North. I run this station and he runs you. Do not have any illusions that you retain any free will from your former lives. As far as Central Space Command is concerned, I own you, which means Major North owns you as well. You will each have one week to train and ready yourselves for battle with the abominable Estelians. In that week, you will be expected to learn all facets of ground combat, as well as protocols of space travel on board the CSC cruisers, destroyers, and battleships. Your days of riding public transports are over. You are now the property of the CSC and you will be so until you either die or this war is over. If there are any questions, please direct them to your master sergeant who will in turn take those questions and shove them down your throats. Good luck and Godspeed.”
“Well said, sir,” North whispered.
“I know,” Terlinger said. “Be on time for the afternoon batch, North. If I have to ask Ngyuen where you are again then expect to be on the next cruiser to the front lines.”
“Understood, sir,” North said. “My apologies, sir.”
“Shut up,” Terlinger said as he walked away, Corporal Ngyuen right on his heels.
North waited for the commandant to leave then turned and looked down at the new cadets.
“You are being split into twenty groups!” North shouted. “Your group number should appear on your wrist! Look for the hatch with the corresponding number! Go through that hatch! Your master sergeant will be waiting to kick you cocks and twats into fighting machines! DISMISSED!”
Ten
“Son of a…”
“You stupid…”
“Damn whore-faced…”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Linklater shouted as the simulation controls in front of him flickered then blinked out. “Dornan! What the hell did you do?”
“I didn’t do a damned thing,” Corporal Dornan replied as he watched one of his sim controls blink out as well. “We just have too many cadets in the sims, Link. We need to quadruple the memory for each bay and then reinforce each scenario. The programs are using old protocols and shutting down when the max numbers of casualties are reached.”
“Who the hell let that happen?” Linklater barked. “Didn’t I say to up the thresholds?”
“No,” Dornan replied. “At least not to us.”
Linklater looked about the control room at a dozen nodding heads.
“Like you’d say otherwise,” Linklater grumbled. “Damned cowards. Someone take my spot while I go adjust the servers. I can’t trust one of you fucks to do it right. Get the controls back up and just keep rebooting until I can increase the numbers.”
“Aye aye,” Dornan said.
“Fucking smart ass,” Linklater snapped as he stood up and hurried from the control room.
He rushed down the corridor, dodging station personnel left and right, until he came to a hatch with “Server Tower” stenciled on it. Linklater pressed his wrist to the panel by the hatch. It opened instantly and he stepped into a small, circular space barely as wide as his shoulders.
“Sim bay servers,” he ordered. “Now.”
The floor lurched slightly then shot upward, propelling Linklater past bank after bank of blinking servers that filled the walls of the tower. The floor gave another lurch and Linklater braced himself as the lift slowed then stopped.
Linklater barely gave the work a thought as he pulled a small power driver from his belt and popped open the faceplates of the servers that surrounded him. He systematically went from one to the other, adjusting the processing capacity of each, until he knew they could handle the increased cadet load required of each simulation.
“Return,” Linklater said once he’d locked the last server faceplate back in place. “Now.”
The lift rocketed back down and Linklater had to swallow hard to keep his gorge from rising in his throat. He started to close his eyes against the vertigo the lift always brought on, but a shower of sparks got his attention and all thoughts of nausea left him instantly.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Now!”
The lift slowed then stopped.
“Up. Six levels,” he ordered.
The lift obeyed and Linklater found himself staring at an entire server bank that was crushed so badly it would have taken an expert to recognize the technology as anything but scrap.
“What the holy fuck?” Linklater asked then activated his comm. “Dornan? Who do we trust the most in maintenance?”
“Wendt, of course,” Dornan replied. “Damn fine maintenance chief, if he does say so himself. Why? Roaches get into the servers again?”
“If so then they are big fucking roaches,” Linklater said. “Call him for me and have him ladder it to level three-fifty.”
“Ladder it? You’re still in the tower?” Dornan asked.
“You are such a fucking genius,” Linklater replied. “Yes, I’m still in the tower and I just found a serious problem! Call Wendt and tell him to get his ass here now! I’m going to need an extra pair of hands for this shit!”
“On it,” Dornan replied.
The servers sparked and sputtered, causing Linklater to jump back. The servers directly behind him sparked as well and he spun about, stunned by the severity of the damage. He pressed his wrist and brought up the schematics for the entire server tower.
“Okay, let’s figure out what you do and see if we can reroute your systems before something important stops working.”
Eleven
The cadets struggled with the heavy cannon, barely getting it upright in time before the wave of Estelian troops crested the opposite hill. Master Sergeant Sherfi Walla started screaming at the top of her lungs at the cadets as they continued to struggle with the massive weapon. The more she screamed, the more the cadets faltered, forcing her to shove several out of the way and take over.
“Secure the braces here and here!” she yelled. “Just like in the training vids! Then adjust the trajectory here, pull back the locking mechanism, and fire!”
“We didn’t see the training vids on artillery,” one of the cadets replied. “They only showed us the vids on scorchers and pistols.”
“Did I ask for your lame excuses, Cadet Private Loser?” Walla screamed.
“It’s Kline,” the cadet replied. “Heather Kli—”
“I do not fucking care!” Walla yelled. “Braces here and here! Locking mechanism here! Fire!”
The cadets all looked from the cannon to her and back to the cannon.
“I F
UCKING SAID TO FIRE!” she roared.
The cadets jumped into motion, secured the braces, pulled back the locking mechanism and fired.
Several blasts of concentrated energy shot from the cannon’s barrel and flew across the landscape towards the oncoming Estelian troops. Half the first row of Estelians were shredded instantly, skin, bone and blood flying in all directions from the energy bursts.
“Holy shit,” a cadet muttered.
“Fire again!” Walla yelled. “Do not stop firing until I fucking say so!”
The cadets pulled back the locking mechanism once more and fired the cannon, sending yet another wave of energy bursts towards the Estelians. They continued their assault until Walla held up her hand.
“There we go! That’s how you kill some DGs!” Walla yelled. “Now break it down and hump it over to that ridge! We don’t stop until we hit our objective!”
“What is our objective, Master Sergeant?” a cadet asked.
“To keep killing DGs until they kill us!” Walla shouted. “Is there any other objective you need, Cadet Private Fucknuts?”
“No, Master Sergeant!” the cadet replied.
“Good, then get to humping that cannon, you worthless piece of shit!” Walla yelled as she kicked the young man in his ass. “Or this boot goes all the way up there!”
Twelve
“Major North!” Captain Valencio called as she ran down the corridor. “Major North, I need to speak with you right now!”
North stopped and looked over his shoulder. He tapped at the tablet he held, placed his thumb against the screen then handed the tablet to the corporal waiting at his side.
“Use the print to sign the rest,” North said. “Leave the tablet in my office, but send copies to my personal server. If I don’t make it back to my desk today, I’ll review them from my wrist as I go.”
