by Jake Bible
“That’s enough,” Valencio said. “Split those useless rookies up and let’s get to it.”
Twenty-Three
Perspiration soaked through the armpits of North’s uniform as he sat at Terlinger’s desk and waited for the connection to go through with Central Space Command. The CSC logo swirled in the air in front of him, twisting and turning in on itself, over and over, until North thought he was going to be sick. After a few nauseating seconds, the logo disappeared and was replaced by the battle-scarred face of a less than pleased General Colletta Birmingham.
“Major North,” Birmingham frowned. “I have already been briefed on what has happened on the Perpetuity, so all you need to do is tell me what you have discovered so far.”
“Nothing, General,” North replied. “We have no solid evidence that the attack was anything but an isolated event. I have suspicions, but nothing concrete as of yet.”
“Nothing?” Birmingham asked. “How can that be, Major? What have you been doing all this time?”
“Getting set up to take over Perpetuity,” North said. “Corporal Ngyuen has assisted me with proper command codes. I’ll step in until you can send a replacement for Commandant Terlinger.”
“No need,” Birmingham said. “You will remain in place for now. I want your head of security to take over the investigation. What is his name?”
“Sergeant-at-Arms Coop Metzger, General,” North answered.
“Yes, have Sergeant Metzger conduct the investigation into the attack,” Birmingham said. “That’s his job anyway. I need you to focus on the recruits and getting the CSC the numbers we need. Our timeline doesn’t change because some DG radical blew himself up.”
“I’m sorry, General, but I don’t know if I can hit the cadet numbers you gave Commandant Terlinger,” North said. “It was going to be hard before all of this happened. Now? Close to impossible. We lost quite a few thousand recruits, not to mention some key personnel. I’ll need more staff and more recruits to fill your numbers.”
“Recruits are already on the way, Major,” Birmingham said. “We have emptied every ghetto on Earth, as well as all the garbage colonies in the lesser systems in order to fill the quota needed. You can expect another six waves of fifty thousand over the next two days.”
North leaned back in his chair as he felt tightness in his chest. He tried not to let the discomfort show, but he could tell by the narrowing of the general’s eyes that she easily saw his physical reaction to the news.
“This is the tipping point, Major,” Birmingham said. “We cannot lose ground now. The CSC needs a steady stream of troops going out to the front. We are going to reclaim lost systems and then take new ones. No matter the cost. The Estelians will try to resist, but our intel says they do not have the numbers needed to counter our attack. They have the superior position within the galaxy, but that will end shortly.”
North’s throat was almost as tight as his chest felt, but he managed to force himself to speak.
“General, I am not sure how I can get that many recruits trained in a week,” North said. “I don’t even know if we have the resources to feed them all. I’ll have to retrofit some sim bays into barracks just to house them all.”
“They do not need to be housed, Major,” Birmingham said. “They need to be trained. Resources are coming in with the next batch of recruits. All injectables. Pharma, food, and hydration. You line them up, shoot them up, and teach them how to fire a scorcher. That is now your job. They shit in their pants, they piss in their pants, they do not sleep. They can drop dead on the spot, for all I care. Better that you break the weak ones now than having them break in battle. I want the numbers ready by the end of the week. Are we understood?”
“Loud and clear, General,” North said. “I’ll let the staff know immediately.”
“Don’t bother,” Birmingham said. “The CSC is now instituting the first protocol. All communications will be direct via individual interface chip. The staff of Perpetuity is getting this information as we speak. Those not used to direct communications may have a hard time adjusting. Please weed out those that cannot handle the downloads. Report them to the CSC and their duties will automatically be reassigned to those more capable.”
“Direct download?” North asked. “General, that could be very dangerous with the amount of pharma these people will be given. The safeguards will be in place to protect cerebral integrity, yes? If cadets are in the middle of a sim and get direct downloads, it could fry them. At the very least it’ll put them out of commission for a few hours, which I cannot afford to have happen.”
“Major, I have the utmost confidence in you,” Birmingham said. “I know you will make sure that doesn’t happen. If the CSC can’t get the numbers it needs from new cadets then it may have to resort to bringing older personnel back up to the front to fill those numbers. I do not think either of us wants to see that happen, do we?”
“No, General, we do not,” North sighed. “I’ll oversee the transition. You’ll get your numbers and I’ll handle my staff.”
“Good,” Birmingham said. “Then I’ll leave you to it. My assistant already tells me that Sergeant-at-Arms Metzger is interrogating suspects as we speak. I’ll send him a message of my approval. I know you’ll show the same initiative with the recruits. One week, Major. One week.”
The general’s face blinked out and was replaced by the CSC logo again. North swiped his hand across the desk and the logo disappeared.
“Corporal!” North shouted.
Ngyuen appeared immediately at the office hatch.
“Yes, Major?” she asked.
“We’re you standing out there listening?” North asked.
“No, Major,” Ngyuen said. “It’s the new protocol. My chip alerted me that your call with General Birmingham had ended, so I expected you to need me.”
“Great,” North sighed again. “Where’s Metzger right now?”
“He is on Security Level Four,” Ngyuen replied. “He has a do not disturb request on his comm, sir. I have been told that he is with a suspect.”
“A suspect? He found someone and didn’t alert me?” North asked.
“He has been handed full authority with finding any infiltrators, sir,” Ngyuen said. “The information given to the staff said as much. Was the CSC information incorrect?”
“You’ve already received a chip communication?” North asked.
“We all have, sir,” Ngyuen said. “Haven’t you?”
“No. No, I haven’t,” North said.
“Well…that’s interesting,” Ngyuen said, her entire demeanor changing. “I’ll alert Doctor Jagath immediately. Your chip may have been damaged somehow. Perhaps in the attack earlier.”
“I don’t have time to see Doctor Jagath,” North said. “I’ve got to get down to the recruit bay and make sure we are ready for more intake. The commandant has to make a speech and that is now my duty, I guess.”
“That is already being handled, sir,” Ngyuen said. “I have sent a copy of the intake speech to all pertinent personnel. The speeches will happen, sir, just not by you. The personnel are on full alert and ready for the influx of recruits coming our way. It would be better if you see Doctor Jagath to have your chip checked, sir. You won’t be at the efficiency level the Perpetuity needs if you cannot receive the communications from CSC.”
“Fine,” North said. “Tell Jagath I am on my way. I’m going to stop by my quarters first though.”
“I would suggest you see the doctor before you take any pharma, sir. It may interfere with the examination,” Ngyuen said. “If that is what you intended to do when you arrived in your quarters. I don’t mean to presume.”
“Well, you did,” North said. “I’m not going to pharma up, Corporal. I am going to clean up. I stink with sweat and blood and everything. I’m going to put on a clean uniform and then go see Jagath. Tell him fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” Ngyuen said. “And what shall I do about Lieutenant Linklater?”
“He has been calling for you, sir,” Ngyuen said. “He is in the server tower. Says he has something to show you as soon as you can get away.”
“That’s not going to happen until next week,” North said. “Tell him to deal with whatever it is on his own unless it is going to slow down training. Is it?”
“Sir?”
“Is it going to slow down training?” North asked.
“I do not know, sir,” Ngyuen said. “The lieutenant wouldn’t give me any specifics. But, I do not think so or I would have been alerted. The new communications protocols have me connected to the simulation training numbers. They are on track for our previous goals and are now being ramped up for our new goals. If the lieutenant’s issue affected the simulations then the numbers would be off.”
“Fine, whatever,” North said. “Tell Jagath I am on the way and tell Linklater that he is on his own.”
North stood and stretched. He walked to the hatch and stepped past Ngyuen as the corporal moved out of his way. The major was almost out of the reception room hatch and into the corridor before he realized something.
“Wait, why was Linklater calling you and not me?” North asked.
“I have had all direct communications to you rerouted to me, sir,” Ngyuen said. “CSC orders to keep you on track. It is not a hardwired order, though, so you can override and handle your own communications if you’d like.”
“I would like,” North said. “And don’t ever do that again. You tell me next time the CSC gives an order like that.”
“I wouldn’t have to tell you, sir, if you go see Doctor Jagath and get your chip repaired,” Ngyuen said. “If that is the issue.”
“What the hell does that mean?” North snapped.
“Nothing, sir,” Ngyuen said. “I just know how much stress you are under.”
“Were you in Terlinger’s shit this much too, Corporal?” North asked.
“Of course, sir,” Ngyuen said. “It’s my job to be in the commandant’s shit. I wouldn’t be a very good assistant if I wasn’t.”
North studied Ngyuen for a few seconds then nodded.
“Fine,” North said. “Just be prepared for me to bite your head off now and again.”
“It comes with the territory, sir,” Ngyuen said. She cocked her head and grinned. “Doctor Jagath is expecting you in fifteen minutes. He asks that you not be late since he is busy still with the wounded from the attack.”
“I’ll be on time,” North said. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”
“I will, sir,” Ngyuen said. “You can count on me.”
Twenty-Four
The stun baton sparked as Metzger dragged the tip across the table. A battered recruit sat manacled, his head lolling, one eye swollen shut, and blood dripping from between his lips. The recruit watched the stun baton with his non-swollen eye until it reached the end of the table and Metzger started dragging it back in the opposite direction. When the stun baton was directly in front of the recruit, the bloodied young man looked up and winced.
“Please,” the recruit muttered. “No more. Please.”
“Doesn’t have to be anymore,” Metzger said. “I just need you to tell me who else is on this station.”
“I don’t know,” the recruit whined. “I’ve already said I’m not an Estelian. I was born on Earth!”
“Then why won’t your chip register as valid?” Metzger asked, tapping the tip of the stun baton on the table slowly.
Tap…tap…tap…tap…
“My chip is defective,” the recruit replied, bloody drool dripping off his chin and onto the table. “Has been for awhile.”
Metzger rubbed the tip of the stun baton in the spot of drool then placed the tip under the recruit’s chin and pushed his head up.
“The CSC doesn’t recruit defectives,” Metzger said.
“They do now,” the recruit said. “I’m from the Green Quadrant, Amazon Sector, Sao Paulo region. I ain’t had a working chip since I was a kid. The one the academy gave me when I graduated was like fourth hand and half rusted when they put it in. Got me my rations and bed, but never did work well enough for me to get a job. I told you all of this!”
“Don’t get pissy, kid,” Metzger said, tapping the baton against the young man’s throat. “I know you told me all of this. That’s the problem. I don’t want to hear the same words over and over. I want to hear new words. You’re going to start giving me new words or I fry your voice box. Just burn that Adam’s apple right out of your throat. Sure, you can get a synthetic replacement, but won’t be your voice no more. Just some computer voice manufactured by some robot fuck in Yellow Quadrant. Ha! If you’re lucky! You’ll probably get an aftermarket job made on Trafflek or from the Velf System. You want to sound like a Velfian? Those colonists are messed up.”
“Please, Sergeant, I don’t know any other words,” the young man pleaded. He flinched as Metzger pressed the baton harder against his throat. “Please! I’m a ghetto kid that got scooped up by the CSC while I was napping with my girl!”
“Why the fuck were you napping?” Metzger said. “Hard working men and women are dying out there and you are napping? I should cook your gizzard just for being a lazy piece of shit.”
“I was napping because you can’t sleep all night where I come from,” the young man replied. “You’ll get jumped and harvested.”
“Bullshit,” Metzger said as he switched on the stun baton.
The recruit screamed and shook as the voltage slammed through his neck. The scream quickly changed tone as Metzger kept pushing, jamming the baton as far into the young man’s throat as he could without choking him to death. Metzger smiled as the recruit’s skin started to sizzle and turn red then a crusty black.
The young man’s scream ended in a hoarse croak and a final whine before he passed out and collapsed forward onto the table, his head making a hollow thunk on the rough metal surface.
The hatch to the interrogation room opened and a guard looked in.
“Want another?” the woman, Corporal Keisha Bunk, asked.
“Yeah,” Metzger smiled. “But bring the fucker in before you take this one out. I want him to see what he has to look forward to.”
“Will do,” Bunk nodded. “How long we keeping this up?”
“As long as it fucking takes!” Metzger snapped. “What the fuck kind of question is that? You think the DGs take breaks? You think the sons of bitches that are hiding on the Perpetuity are going to call time fucking out?”
“I was just wondering if you wanted me to load up some pharma,” Bunk replied, not even phased by Metzger’s outburst, well used to them. “Supply dropped off a fresh crate. Me and Pinnti was about to get right. I can bring you a couple.”
“Yeah, bring me one,” Metzger said then smiled. “No, bring me a dozen.”
“A dozen? You wanna die?” Bunk grinned. “That much pharma will make your heart explode out your ass. Watched my uncle do six at once and he was bleeding from his pores for two days. Ain’t pretty.”
“I know it ain’t pretty,” Metzger said. “That’s why they ain’t for me.”
Bunk looked at the collapsed recruit then over her shoulder and out into the corridor where several more suspects were shackled to the floor.
“I get ya,” Bunk smiled. “I’ll get the pharma while Pinnti brings in the next victim.”
“Good,” Metzger said. “I need to have some answers by the morning and a hard pharma push may be the only way.” He tapped the back of his head. “CSC’s gotta get what CSC wants.”
Twenty-Five
The vents above North’s head sucked up the cleaning steam then reversed and blasted him with hot, dry air. He stood there, his head nodding as he struggled to stay awake, well past time for another dose of pharma. He wanted nothing more than to grab an injector and get right, but Ngyuen’s words kept running over and over in his head.
No, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t her words so
much as her demeanor. North couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe if he had some pharma…
“No,” he growled into the mirror as he grabbed his uniform and slipped it on. “No pharma. Not unless I have to.”
He picked up his soiled uniform and began to toss it into the laundry chute when something fell out and clinked on the metal floor. North bent down and picked up Terlinger’s medal. He stared at it for a couple seconds then tucked it into a pocket of his new uniform. He turned and the room about him took a serious sideways dive. North put out his hand and braced himself against the wall. A few deep, deep breaths and the sideways feeling dissipated. He double checked himself in the mirror then strode to his hatch and out of his quarters.
Station personnel rushed past him. There were perfunctory nods, but very few salutes or acknowledgements of his rank and authority. North found that strange, but also knew it probably had more to do with the added stress of the CSC’s expectations than anything to do with him personally. Not to mention the issue of Commandant Terlinger having just passed. The man had been a growly bastard, but he was respected on the station.
The lift opened up in front of North and he had to blink a few times to figure out why he was standing there.
“Getting on, sir?” a woman asked. “Sir?”
“What? Oh, sorry, Private. Yes, thank you,” North smiled as he stepped onto the lift.
“Are you going down to the recruit bay, sir?” the private asked. “I am heading that direction as well to help with the individual scans. All hands on deck, right?”
She looked up at North, a broad smile on her face.
“Sir? Are you alright?” the private asked, her smile fading.
“What? Oh, yes. My apologies. Just a lot on my mind, Private,” North said. “The CSC has sure handed me a shit sandwich. Just trying to figure out which end I take a bite from first.”
“Oh…okay,” the private said. “So, the recruit bay?”
“What? Uh, no,” North said. “I’m going to the medical bay. Chip is acting up. Corporal Ngyuen won’t let it drop, so I guess I have an appointment with Doctor Jagath.” North stopped talking and glanced at the private. “Not sure why I gave you all that information. Probably more than you wanted to know.”
