Terminus Project: Mars (Dystopian Child Prodigy SciFi)

by Casey Herzog

  "We have no cause for concern." Norma held a smug smile as her eyes took in the jealous looks of the other commanders.

  Peter sat back in his chair and made himself comfortable. If Admiral Gayle was going to deal with less troublesome cohorts first, he would be here a while.

  The other cohorts were all in various states of disrepair. Peter listened to Gayle and the other chiefs chastise the commanders in turn. He didn't know if the woes of the other cohorts relieved or concerned him. It was good to know they weren't alone in having troubles, but the way the chiefs laid into the other commanders left him even more worried for what would be said about his division. As he had assumed, all the other cohorts came before Pluto.

  As Uranus Cohort stepped out of the room, Peter drew deep breath, leaning forward as he prepared for the chiefs to verbally bash him and the cohort. He could already see Admiral Gayle's eyes were on him, and he prayed the man would focus his ire on Alphred.

  "I chose to let the other commanders leave ahead of you as I do not believe they should know how far below expectation the Pluto Cohort is." Admiral Gayle spoke with absolute honesty.

  Chief Doyle took over with seamless precision. "The chiefs and I who have observed your cohort are most concerned about the lack of team cohesion in your unit. We always knew team composition would be difficult for you, Alphred. We have been quite lenient in letting you find your own way, but it is becoming obvious your leadership skills are impaired. Letting your team’s emotions get the better of them, infighting. Putting that aside, you can’t even turn out your whole cohort for EVA test activities yet! You should at least have your team under control and obedient."

  Peter knew he shouldn't, but he felt relieved to see the heat placed on their commander.

  "As a matter of course, have you told your aides your unique situation within the leadership?" Chief Doyle's words set Peter glancing to Minerva. She seemed as clueless as he was.

  "No, Chief Doyle, I did not think it necessary. I have informed Peter Gabell what I need from him as my aide. His position is to advise me on the state of the cohort. I have made that clear, don’t you think?"

  Peter did not like being thrust into the spotlight. "He did make that clear."

  Doyle nodded. "I see. So between picking fights with your teammates and creating your own separate club with Miss Tharsis here, you feel you are able to provide your commander with adequate data and advice regarding the cohort's status?"

  Peter hesitated. He wasn't too thrilled with Alphred, but he didn't want to land him in any extra trouble. "I could have given some better counsel...maybe."

  "Do you think yourself capable of doing so? It is no secret you are generally disliked by your peers. Furthermore, how do you expect to be able to aid your commander if you do not even know why he requires your advice?"

  Peter eyed the chief, lip curled into a near snarl. "I can't do much about how they view me. I would have thought you chiefs would understand that. I did not ask to be the poster child of the initiative. If you had been more closed mouthed about what happened on that freighter, I reckon things would be easier."

  Admiral Gayle raised an eyebrow. He had been leaning back in his seat as Doyle managed them, but sat forward now. "Are you suggesting we are at fault for your cohort's current troubles?"

  A glance at Minerva and Alphred made Peter feel silence was the best thing here. Minerva was looking down into her hands, and Alphred was actually shaking his head at him. He took a breath, determined to ignore his commander. "Honestly, yes, I do think you are to blame, at least in part."

  A silence took over the room, the other chiefs seeming as nervous now as Alphred and Minerva. "You are very sure of yourself in this. Chief Doyle, I would appreciate if you could work my schedule to include a private meeting with Gabell."

  "Yes, Admiral." Doyle made a note, then turned her attention back to Alphred and Minerva. ]

  "Returning to the two of you. Minerva, your place on this mission came from recommendations from Lunar base. While no one is doubting your field ability, it is clear you like to operate by your own rules. You have shown little in the way of leadership promise. You seem content to socialize only with Mr. Gabell, and have made few inroads with the others. As someone who has not had the luxury of living for an extended time with your cohort, this is most inadvisable. As for you Alphred, you will need to confide in your aides if you hope to utilize them. Out of respect to you, we will give you the chance to talk to your team yourself. However, if you don't take this opportunity, we will step in. Consider this a warning."

  Chief Evans looked to Doyle, and then took over once she nodded. "Now, can we move on to your cohort’s poor scores in training exercises? We can start with combat training, but I know the other chiefs have complaints too."

  The rest of the session was a long list of minor crimes, Pluto Cohort had committed in the eyes of the chief's. Peter stopped paying attention half way through. They all stemmed back to the same problem. They were not acting as a team. An hour passed before they permitted to return to the cohort. Of course, none were keen to do so.

  As the office door closed behind them, Minerva turned to Peter, clasping his hands in hers. "My God, you are brave and stupid. I can't believe you stood up to Admiral Gayle like that."

  "My sentiments exactly," Alphred agreed with less enthusiasm. He flexed his fingers, trying not to turn them into fists.

  Peter looked to his commander. Alphred couldn't censure him now. "So, do you want to tell us what your dirty secret is then? When you told me you wanted me to advise you on the cohort’s emotional state, I didn't think you were serious. I thought you wanted me because of who I was. I assumed the chiefs had asked you to set me up as your third."

  "Forget that, I want to know what you're keeping from us Alphred." Minerva looked down at her commander, arms folded. Peter knew she had his back, and Alphred was alone.

  Alphred looked away from them both. "I was not the first candidate chosen to lead Pluto Cohort."

  Peter looked to Minerva. Her brow had furrowed, and she moved a little closer to Alphred. "I didn't know that. What happened to the first candidate?"

  Alphred turned back around. "There was an incident during a routine training operation. I'll spare you the details, but it disqualified him from the program. I was...I was a last-minute replacement for Pluto Cohort."

  Peter was a little underwhelmed. "That's it? That's the secret?"

  Alphred turned to look at him. His eyes sparkled, as though tears were threatening to breakthrough. It was the closest to true emotion Peter had seen from him. "The initiative saw me as a weak candidate because of my poor interpersonal skills. Not a quick enough study of people and lack of charisma."

  Peter let out a moan and rubbed his eyes. "So, that was why you picked me out day one? You saw me keeping Nisha's head together when we took off from Earth and decided that made me your ideal third."

  Alphred shook his head. "It might have been premature. I knew understanding my cohort would be my biggest challenge, but seeing the way you dealt with Nisha gave me hope. I latched onto it in a hurry because I was desperate not to let my shortcomings show to the cohort."

  "And it didn't occur to you that promoting the least popular member of the team to this position might not be the best idea?" Peter was feeling ill as he took in his commander's words.

  "As said...I don't read people well. There was nothing in your profile detailing your lack of popularity." Alphred's skin was paling.

  Peter could feel Minerva looking at him with almost as much intensity as Alphred. "Are you sure you were only the second choice of leader for the cohort?" He let out a slight laugh and shook his head.

  Alphred frowned again. "Yes. I was the only other Armstrong in the program that matched the age criteria."

  Peter smiled. "I was being sarcastic, Commander. Thanks though."

  Minerva scratched her cheek. "The rest of the cohort will need us around. We have combat training this morning, and the group wi
ll be no good if we aren't there. Chief Evans will be looking to see an improvement from us after that meeting."

  Alphred nodded. "I'll go and mobilize the boys, Minerva get the girls prepped. Can I trust you both to keep my secret from the others? I do not think our cohort can cope knowing all three of us are..." He trailed off before insulting his team.

  Peter looked to Minerva. She shrugged her shoulders. "Got enough on our plates already. Can you give me a minute with Peter, please? We need to discuss something. I promise it'll be quick."

  "I don't like secrets," Alphred said after a moment's thought.

  "Well, you've been setting a bad example on that front, Commander." Minerva's words sounded almost like a threat to Peter, and he looked to Alphred, curious to see how he would respond.

  "Be quick about it then." The commander left without another word, leaving them alone.

  Peter sighed. "I'm not sure this is helping matters."

  "I'm not trying to help matters, Peter. I may have spent most of my life in the void, but I am still able to know when something is going south. What we said before, about stepping off at Mars-"

  "-I know. Things aren't looking good now, but I don't know where things stand yet. Let's leave it until I've spoken to the Admiral. No idea what he wants to see me for."

  CHAPTER 13

  It was coming to the end of the day shift for Pluto Cohort when Peter found himself summoned to same little office he and the other commanders had occupied that morning. The chiefs of staff had as little personal space as the crew they commanded, and this office was about the only place where meetings could occur uninterrupted.

  Admiral Gayle stood in a corner, drinking a cup of coffee from a metallic cup. His dark rimmed eyes seemed unfocused, almost seeming to look past Peter. He guessed the man had not seen much sleep in the last few days. Though the Admiral was fierce in his own way, he could not imagine the man having the energy to give him a proper dressing down in his current state.

  "Ah, Mr. Gabell, thank you for coming. Can I offer you a coffee?"

  The man nodded to the small percolator sitting on the table. There was milk and powdered sugar too.

  It had been a long day, and Peter looked at the offered stimulant with desire. "I'd better not, Admiral; I do not want to make it harder to sleep when I turn in. The rest of Pluto Cohort are already on the rest cycle."

  "Oh yes, Mars shift is about to begin." The Admiral looked to his watch. It looked like a standard Earth model, twelve-hour analog. There was no way the device could help him keep track of the various rest and activity periods of all five cohorts. "Well then, I shall not keep you long." The Admiral gestured to a seat.

  "Thank you, Admiral." Peter took his place, eyes staying with the man as he took his own place.

  The commander’s body seemed relaxed and at ease. He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee in a slow manner. He couldn't decide if the Admiral was toying with him by seeming so disarmed.

  "I can see you're nervous, Gabell, so let me assure you now that you are not here to receive a dressing down." The Admiral put down his cup and leaned forward. His arms rested on the table, hands clasped together and index fingers pointed in Peter's direction. "Your display in this morning's briefing was impressive. Despite being in front of myself and the other chiefs, you spoke your mind and dared to blame us for the ructions affecting your cohort. A bold move indeed."

  "I did speak out of turn, sir."

  "And, so what if you did. In the heat of a crisis, being able to speak out of turn can be the difference between success and defeat." The Admiral was sinking into his speech with ease. Peter had not seen the man as anything other than hurried and disinterested in his men before. It was strange to hear him speaking so informally and almost rambling. "Tell me, the secessionist threat we are facing out here, what do you make of it all."

  Peter was not sure what the Admiral was asking and decided to go with the safe answer. "The secessionists represent the biggest challenge to the expansion of humanity. Their decision to cut ties with Earth and declare independence flies in the face of humanity and-."

  "-No, no." The Admiral waved a hand. His lip curled as though Peter's words carried a taste that he disliked. "I do not need a lesson in who the secessionists are. I want to know what you make of our chances. Do you think the Unity has a chance of defeating the secessionists? We have a crew of two hundred; our youngest cohort filled with fourteen year olds. Do you think we are capable of victory against our enemy with those kinds of numbers?"

  Peter was on edge and glad he hadn't accepted the coffee. He felt he was being tested, or else lured into some kind of trap by the Admiral. "The Unity is about the single most expensive project mankind has ever made. I don't pay much attention to what the news says, but I doubt Earth would have funded the venture if they thought we had any chance of failure."

  "A better answer. So, what is it about us that leaves Earth so sure we will succeed?"

  Peter could feel the Admiral wanted to lead him to a particular answer, but couldn't see it. "At a guess, because the secessionists are so small a force. The bases past Mars have limited populations and lack arms."

  "That brings us victory on the field, Mr. Gabell. What about longer term? Once our mission is complete, how will we ensure the secessionists will not rise up again?"

  "Because we will not leave. The cohorts sent out to guard the planets will remain in the outer system to prevent such an uprising from happening again." This was another rote answer.

  “It is because our people know true loyalty. All our crew were raised amongst each other from birth and taught to put Earth’s needs above the needs of themselves. I wonder just how much of that you have. Your unique situation brought you into the program some years later than the rest of your cohort.”

  “Are you saying I am not as loyal to the mission?” Peter felt that nervous feeling return.

  “I’m saying you think differently to the others. It is simultaneously a source of strength for you and your greatest barrier to gaining their trust. However, you have something the mission needs.” Gayle drained the last of his coffee, seeming to signify the meeting was drawing to a close.

  “And what is that, Admiral?”

  “I do not think it a good idea to tell you now, but I want you to know that I will be keeping a closer eye from here on out. If you can gain the trust of your cohort, it is just possible you might be more important to this mission than anyone else.”

  Peter let out a sigh. “I don’t wish to sound dumb, Admiral, but I’m not following you at all here.”

  The Admiral stood, clapping Peter on the back as he passed him by. “For now, just take away the notion that we will be having more talks, you and I, in the months ahead.”

  Peter left the meeting with the distinct impression that his time had been wasted somehow. Admiral Gayle had meant to pay him a compliment, he assumed. Still, the man talked in so many riddles that his message was lost completely. Of one thing Peter felt certain, the Admiral would not be happy to hear that he was entertaining the thought of getting off at Mars.

  Though he knew he needed sleep, Peter did not rush back to the dorms. His mind was buzzed with all that had happened to him of late, trying to make sense of it and determine the best course of action In the short term, leaving the Unity with Minerva was the easiest course. He had made a friend, something he had been in short supply of in his life. If she was determined to step off the wagon at Mars base, he’d find continuing much harder. At the same time, he held to the faint hope that he could still win over the cohort. It was a vain hope, but one he’d clung to for years. He had grown up with the cohort. Whether he was a pariah among them was irrelevant, they were still family of a sort. As much as he tried to deny it, he still wanted to be accepted by them.

  A flight flickered. Just as Peter descended from the second rotunda into the Zero-G of the ship, he saw it. It came from the combat room. His mind went blank and he stared at the door, watching the lights blink
on and off. Any sign of malfunction on the Unity was a cause for concern, and the crew were brought up to fear unusual sounds, flickering lights, even leaking taps. Peter couldn’t just ignore it. Grabbing a wall bar, he used it to change his course, floating in the direction of the sparring room. It made him more nervous to realize he was the only one on the corridor. It had to be changeover time, Mars Cohort not yet awake and on duty. Even so, there should have been someone around. It left Peter feeling doubly nervous as he grabbed the door and pulled himself inside.

  Whatever was affecting the lights, it ceased the moment Peter entered the room. The bulbs gave out completely, leaving the room in near total darkness. Only light from the corridor lit up the space, then, this too disappeared at once.