by Lance Berry
“Free time’s almost over for me. I’m about to go over to the mess for dinner,” he informed her. “What about you?”
“Duh, I’m in the same cadre–I have the same schedule as you, remember?” she chuckled, trying hard not to laugh too loud in the large hall, which was packed to capacity with students from every study year, tending to business. “I’m about to head over to mess, too.”
Travis shrugged in deference. “Fine, then. Let’s head over together.”
They walked slowly together to the mess hall, filling each other in on personal history as they went. Travis noticed a few times that Danielle was staying especially close to him as they walked, and not for the first time, he couldn’t help but take note of how pretty she was. There was something, in some ways, very plain about her; yet in a manner which he couldn’t fully articulate, that same plainness made her a highly sensual person. He wondered to himself what it would be like to kiss her, to be with her–whether, in fact, she might actually still be a virgin or not. And to his private embarrassment, he had to summon Gilda’s image to the forefront of his memory several times in order to quell such thoughts. He and Gilda had made love barely two nights before; she was his woman now, and he her man. There could be no other.
They entered the mess hall, received full dinner trays, and found their cadre sitting together at the exact table they had occupied for breakfast and lunch. Travis realized that several other cadres had done the same thing, revisited their prior tables. There was no rule about seating arrangements, other than plebes ate with plebes, yearlings with yearlings, and so on. Travis considered that perhaps, with so much being new and unknown to everyone here, some measure of familiarity had to be snatched and held onto whenever possible, in order to help themselves adapt to the environment.
And on the note of such familiarity, Travis realized, Hamilton Cavanaugh was once again sitting with the cadre. Amidst the greetings from the others, Hamilton stood, giving up the two spaces he had been occupying with a lazy lean. “Hey, brother,” he said as he genially slapped Travis’ shoulder. “I was saving a spot for you and your lady friend. I have someone saving a space in line for me. I gotta eat with my cadre tonight, they’re all like, ‘What, you’re too good to eat with us, Hammy Cav?’ So I gotta put on the show-show, y’know? But I’ll be speakin’ with you soon, man. Take it easy.”
He slapped Travis’ shoulder again and headed off, leaving Travis and Danielle to stare after his wake as he moved his bulk through the crowd. “Nice seeing you too, Ham,” Travis finally was able to reply. Danielle laughed more openly this time, and Travis realized how much he really did like the sound. He sat down beside Pietro, and tried not to pay attention to the fact that Danielle’s knee rubbed up against his when she closed in after him, and stayed there for the entirety of dinner time.
The cadre walked back to the dorm together, Travis and Danielle falling behind slightly as the group proceeded. By the time they reached the front steps of Brigand, the rest of the cadre had already gone inside. “Well, thanks for walking me home,” Danielle said, wrinkling her nose facetiously. Travis couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, the facility grounds get scary at night. I guess I should be thanking you,” he joked, hoping to ease the painful silence he sensed was coming…that awkward moment before a first kiss is shared, and an unspoken commitment to seeing each other on a less-platonic level is made. Danielle seemed determined to not let that moment pass, and licked her lips in anticipation. “Well, goodnight–“ she began, as she leaned in. Before Travis knew what he was doing, his hand shot up as if to ward off a blow, and he took a step back. “I have a girlfriend back home,” he said quietly, and a bit more sternly than he had intended.
Danielle stepped back now, looking at him curiously. “I was only going to kiss you on the cheek, Travis. You know, a friendly kiss,” she said, her voice somehow defensive and hurt at the same time. “We’re in the same cadre, it would be morally unethical and just plain stupid for us to date one another! I thought you thought I was more intelligent that that.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you–“
“Goodnight, Travis,” she said, and swiftly moved up the steps and inside the building. Travis stood in place, staring at the doors for a long time. After a while he finally went inside, and slowly climbed the five flights to his room. Try as he might during the entire walk upstairs, he couldn’t bring Gilda’s face to mind.
Chapter 15
(The Yearling)
2175 moved into the year 2176 with a speed many times surpassing that of light, from Travis’ perception. He spent much of the summer at Aunt Lisa’s place in Virginia, but also managed to steal several weekends away in Garrison, so that he could see Gilda on a semi-regular basis. He was surprised and somewhat hurt to find that Jared LeVoy had moved away in his absence, and never bothered telling him. He didn’t know what to make of that, and in turn made no effort to reach out to him…partly out of spite, but also in case Jared had chosen that he wanted no more to do with him, possibly because he had left for the military. He did keep in touch with several people from his cadre–with the painfully obvious exception of Danielle, who was never quite as friendly with him after that night outside Brigand.
While he was home, he took a quick jump over to Hudson Valley at one point to visit Carver Mackee for a few days. While they hung out, the two young men went to visit a friend of Carver’s who was a cadet attending summer classes at Westview Academy. They weren’t there too long, before Travis found out that LeVoy’s spontaneously mischievous side had rubbed off on Carver. While they were heading up some stairs in the main library, two female upperclassmen were about two flights down, heading the other way. One of them, a brunette, had been blessed with a surprisingly ample and seemingly perfect bosom. “Holy shit, look at the tits on that hot brunette!” Carver yelled, and then ducked aside just in time for both women to look up and see only Travis leaning over the railing, his mouth open in stupefaction.
The brunette glared up at him, daggers seeming to fly out of her eyes …and for all his embarrassment, Travis found he couldn’t move out of her field of vision in time, because she was captivatingly beautiful. But then she angrily threw her books down on the landing and started to race up the stairs, her friend shouting after her that the boys weren’t worth it. But the young woman was determined, and was making good time trotting ever closer to them. Travis’ instinct for self-preservation finally kicked in and he raced off after Carver, who was already passing through a doorway at the far end of the hall. As the young men burst through the exit doors at the other end of the building and raced across the quad, Travis didn’t dare look back…although he could hear the beautiful young woman with the impossibly perfect bosom hurling swear words at them that would’ve made a seasoned war veteran blush.
Soon enough, summer changed back to fall, and it was time for Travis to head back to Sanderson. He and Gilda made love the weekend before he left, and he promised her that he would write to her with greater frequency than he had recently. As busy as he had been at school with studies, he didn’t have much time for extra-curricular social niceties. She seemed to understand, but he made an extra effort to reassure her (and later made the same promise to Lisa) before leaving for school once more.
As it had a year earlier, the transport picked Travis up at the tram station. Many of the familiar faces were aboard this time as well: Hamilton, Theo, and others. Danielle was present also, and gave Travis a friendly hug. The ice, it seemed, had thawed a bit.
As they took the ride to San Diego, Travis reflected on the previous year’s accomplishments: he had done well in all his classes, generally managing B and B+ grades. He had become quite proficient in the use of both the Zuk-Lar and Blastrifle, and Sensei Ling was adequately pleased with his advancement in the art of Jeet Kune Do.
He hadn’t been the subject of any more “demonstrative discipline” by Colonel Wentwell, and with any luck, he hoped to avoid that unpleasantness for another year. In
fact, the colonel had commented a few times on how well Travis was doing in his studies and advancement as a cadet. “You may just survive yet, Rand,” Travis knew, was Wentwell’s way of saying “good job”. Yes, Travis was definitely looking forward to a better time around this year.
When the transport touched down at the Sanderson hangar, there were about two dozen more cadets grouped together to be led to the main campus and barracks than the previous year. Most of the cadets were sophomores, or in the colloquial, yearlings, like Travis and his group. A few were plebes. There was joy and wonder on the faces of some of the new kids as they looked around, but also fear and apprehension on quite a few as well…no doubt, those who had been chosen from the planetary draft which, as both Professor Blaustein and Theo predicted, had come back into full effect. Travis had to stifle a chuckle as he looked over their almost baby-like faces: Was he ever that young?
As he had the previous year, Corporal DiTillo greeted the arrivals and escorted them to Brigand Division. On the way, he explained that although many in the group were returnees, it was still necessary for them to register with the Intake Officer, as some room assignments had changed due to space considerations. Travis and Danielle shared a knowing smile as DiTillo made the same speech he had the year before, about how he expected the new cadets to sacrifice themselves for him, if a Calvorian commando squad infiltrated the base, intent on taking him out. Travis almost laughed out loud as he pictured DiTillo as an old man, stooped and nearly bald, making the same speech as he led new cadets across the campus grounds.
The main entry hall of Brigand was as crowded as it had been a year earlier, when Travis was a new arrival. Once DiTillo left the group, Travis and his shipmates said their goodbyes and separated to look for the tables marked with the first letter of their last names. Travis only had a light shoulder bag this year, as yearlings were accorded fewer niceties in the area of clothes selection for off-duty hours. He saw his table and started over, but a hand falling on his shoulder brought him to a halt. He turned to find Colonel Wentwell standing there, a neutral expression on his face. Travis dropped his shoulder bag to the floor at once and saluted as he came to attention. Wentwell returned the salute briskly. “Relax, Cadet. I need you to come with me.” Without waiting for a response, the colonel turned on his heel and headed for the exit. Travis considered his bag a moment, wondering if he should bring it with him, then snatched it up and hurried after Wentwell.
They headed across the quad for a few minutes, passing Meade Hall and Paddington Court along the way. Wentwell made no conversation, and Travis saw no reason to offer any, although to his surprise he was actually glad to see the man again. Another minute passed, and Travis’ curiosity got the better of him. “Begging the Colonel’s pardon, but I was wondering where we’re going?”
“General Wintemberg wants to see you,” he answered without looking back at him. Now Travis was confused, and more than a little concerned. He knew Wintemberg from his father’s funeral, and the general did say he’d see him at Sanderson, but that was more than a year ago. He doubted that even with the speech he’d given, that he’d made that much of an impression for Wintemberg to summon him to his office for a hello. Then the thought flashed in his head that Wintemberg did have the power to call down separation on Travis–have him removed from the school and military life forever. Travis’ mind raced, trying to figure out what he could have possibly done to earn such a decree, but there was nothing. Aside from the first night of his arrival and the demonstrative discipline Wentwell had made him endure, there were no other major infractions of the rules at any time. He had no demerits, and so there was no standing legality for the possibility of separation. Travis couldn’t imagine what the problem could possibly be.
They finally made their way to the second floor of Sanderson Administration, the main house for officers’ meeting rooms. Travis knew from looking at school maps online that S.A. had personal offices for each officer on campus; even Colonel Wentwell, although he lived in Brigand as a den-father, had an office in the S.A. The duo walked down a long corridor, made a left turn and finally stood within the anteroom before General Wintemberg’s office. An attractive Native American woman sat behind a small desk, doing some work on her vid-com.
“Colonel Wentwell and Cadet Rand to see General Wintemberg,” the colonel told the woman in a casual, almost friendly tone. She nodded and tabbed a key on her intercom panel. “Sir, Colonel Wentwell and Cadet Rand are here to see you.” Travis’ mouth almost dropped open at the silken sound of her voice. He had never heard anything like it and was patently certain that if she told a tale of having explosive diarrhea after eating twelve tacos, it would be the most enchanting thing he’d ever hear.
The office doors opening brought him back to the real world, and Travis turned to see General Wintemberg step out. The General was still an imposing figure, and although there were a few more wrinkles under his eyes, he seemingly had not changed otherwise. He and Colonel Wentwell exchanged salutes, but the General offered his hand to Travis instead. “Good to see you again, Travis! How’s that fiancée of yours?” he asked, a broad smile on his face. It took Travis a moment to recollect the lie he had told. “Oh, Gilda’s just fine, sir.”
“When’s the wedding date? I’m expecting an invitation, you know.”
“Ummm…we’re waiting until after I graduate.”
Wintemberg nodded judiciously. “A good move. A good move. Come on in, gentlemen…the Colonel already knows what I have waiting for you. Come see for yourself.”
Travis didn’t know what to make of that statement, but he was glad to see Wintemberg in such a jovial mood. At least he could stop worrying about separation. They stepped into the office, which was very spacious. But Travis didn’t see what was waiting on the other side of the door immediately. He turned his head, taking a casual glance around–and there was Jack Richards, sitting in a guest chair by the bookcase.
Travis almost stumbled backward, he was so honestly stunned. He was so taken aback at the sight of the man sitting, then standing and walking toward him, that his mind almost refused to process the situation. Here was his foster father, lost for a year, now standing before him, arms outstretched. He was wearing civilian clothes and was a bit thinner, almost gaunt, but this was unmistakably Jack Richards.
“Dad…?”
“Son.”
One word, and yet it carried a warmth and love which Travis hadn’t heard from his father in more than a decade. All his stubborn defiance, all his resentment, all his hatred, all his defenses and barriers disappeared in an instant at the utterance of one word.
He collapsed into his father’s arms, not caring that he was crying openly in front of his superiors. He clutched to his father for all he was worth, wishing that he could lock all time into place at this moment, so they could stay like this forever.
After things had settled down a bit, General Wintemberg uncorked a bottle of Vongerichten Sherry, and the four toasted to Jack’s health. he general offered Jack an unoccupied office for him to speak to Travis, and he gratefully accepted. The room itself was just a tad smaller than Wintemberg’s, with a desk and chair, but no awards or other personal citations in place. The UEF flag was its only marker of officialdom. It was a beautiful day out, so Jack opened the window and gestured for his son to sit in the large chair, while he himself sat on the edge of the oak desk.
“Aunt Lisa showed me the news footage of your wrecked armada,” Travis offered before Jack could speak. “I don’t understand…how it is… why are you alive?” His own eyes widened, as he realized how that sounded. “Don’t get me wrong, Dad–I am glad that you’re alive, I’m just…in shock!”
“It’s understandable,” Jack said gently as he rubbed the young man’s shoulder. “Every day I wake up now, I thank God for it. There were times, after the loss at Vega…” He drifted off, and his eyes wandered to look at the sky outside. Travis didn’t say anything, didn’t want to press him for an answer. But after a moment, Ja
ck abruptly turned to look at him, and began to speak:
“UEF was in the process of building a new Watch Station in the Altair star-system. From there, we’d be able to more effectively monitor enemy fleet movements and potentially get a good heads-up before they moved out to whatever sectors they intended to engage us in–or, of course, if they were coming to Earth. The day I returned to the Samurai, it was because fleet movements were detected in the Procyon and Vega systems, which both border Altair. My division was sent to engage the Vega column, to either turn it back or destroy it, so that they wouldn’t detect the Altair station under construction. Captain DeSoto and her ship the Maharaja headed to Procyon, engaging the enemy at Sirius. The division the Samurai was part of met the enemy and we did a seriously good job of kicking their asses, at first. But then their reinforcements showed up, and along with them came five dreadnoughts.”
“The newscast showed us an image of dreadnoughts. I had no idea they were so big,” Travis interjected.
Jack nodded, a haunted look appearing in his eyes. “They’re monsters,” he said somberly, a rattling sigh escaping his throat before he continued, “I’d heard about them, but never engaged one before. We were down to a hundred and forty-three ships, but we were still at an advantage until those beasts showed up! They dwarfed our viewscreens, even from a distance! And when they fired, and that first volley hit us…it was like the universe itself was on fire.
“The Rothschild and Sapphire were gone in moments. The dreadnoughts broke ranks almost immediately, each accompanied by about twenty of their battlecruisers, all heading for different quadrants of our own fleet…picking us apart like a pride of lions stumbling upon a herd of grazing cattle. My ship, my crew…they put up such a good fight, Travis. I had never been prouder to serve with them before in all my time as their captain. But eventually, we were hit so hard, I had no choice but to order to abandon ship. We tried our best to make it to the life pods through the smoky, blazing hell of each ruined deck. And out of seven hundred and thirty-two crewmen, only seventeen of us survived.”
