Standish

by Donald B McFarlane

  Standish looked across the small metal table at the Sabirian instructor and his piercing red eyes that were glowing against his jet-black skin.

  “You know where you are ranked in your block?” He asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “First.”

  The Sabirian tilted his head to the side. “Correct.” Vexer replied. “There is always a top recruit in each block. There has to be. It means nothing. What matters is being the first in the class.” He looked up at the low ceiling. “It is a great honour to graduate first.” He looked down at Standish. “It is also an honour for the instructors.” He paused again and stared at Standish. “Do you know where you rank in the class?”

  “No, sir.” She replied.

  “Of course, not. The scores are always kept confidential. Only your rank in your block is known to you, and for all intents and purposes, the individual ranked first in their block could be ranked outside the top twenty-five per cent of the class, especially if they are in a weak block. This has happened before.” The instructor took in a deep breath. “Third.” He said, and leaned forward, his red eyes locked on Standish.

  “Third?” She replied.

  “Correct. There are two recruits in Block One that have higher marks, but just.”

  Standish nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

  The Sabirian leaned back. “I expect you to finish first.”

  Standish turned her head to the side, just slightly. “There is only the final exercise remaining.” She said.

  “Exactly. So, you must distinguish yourself.” Vexer said calmly.

  “Yes, Sir.” She replied, bringing her shoulders back and puffing out her chest a little bit.

  “We will jump to Terascova in two days for the final training exercise. I expect your performance to be perfect.” Vexer said in a solemn tone.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Standish had never heard of Terascova but knew that the final examination was a simulated wartime environment exercise that would test all the skills they had been taught, and that the fleet expected them to have mastered before passing out. After that it was a quick visit home, then off to the real test, Rescue Technician training.

  7

  The Present

  Mechcharga

  Slowly walking back towards her desk, Standish took her time to survey her room. There were several cases already packed and ready for her departure. The final details were worked out for her retirement, and she had been assured that her unusual request would be honoured. After spending the last several years on Mechcharga, the capital of the Etelainen, she needed peace and quiet.

  Sitting down at the desk, she brought up the search results for the Varas, and a wry smile came onto her face when she saw the Liboa had used the ships correct registration codes to dock at Porth, roughly one hundred light-years away. The fool, she said as her smile grew wider.

  “Computer, have an armourer droid come to quarters at once.”

  When the two-metre-tall machine arrived next to Standish’s desk, she was already on her second glass of whisky.

  “Use my authorisation codes, and do not record this meeting or the supplies I request.” She said, looking up at the ungainly machine, which didn’t reply. “Good.” Standish brought took another sip of her drink. “I need a jump capable ship without a tracking system, but with full IFF codes and green-force tracker installed that can be flown by one.” She took another sip of whisky. “I require Dynamic Operations power armour, a lightweight set, make sure it looks aged.” Another sip. “A full close-quarters battle suite, and the following weapons.” She handed a data chip to the droid. “Have everything back here in one hour and start a full inspection on whichever ships you can find that meet my needs, but use droids, not biological staff.”

  The tall robot turned about and marched out of the room.

  Sitting upright, Standish tapped a few keys on her desk bringing up a hologram of the planet Porth, her first target.

  8

  The Past

  Terascova

  After the jump from Bern 36, the remaining recruits on the course were divided into groups of five and assigned to three training ships for the final exam. The groups would rotate through the vessel’s various departments, all while under the supervision of local training staff while their instructors from Bern 36 conducted final evaluations.

  When Standish’s name was finally called, she joined two black fur covered Killians who were both wearing cool-suits and walked off the transport and was directed towards the third training ship. They were eventually joined by a Floxian female Standish didn’t know well, and finally a sizeable Tricarian male.

  The five recruits walked in silence behind one of the instructors down a series of hallways, all of which looked in poor condition and dingy to Standish, just like most of the training facilities on Bern 36. It didn’t surprise her that the fleet was spending its budget elsewhere.

  As they reached the training ships main docking hatch, the instructor stopped the group, turned, and faced them.

  “Listen. This is an old Imperial Class Dreadnaught. Bailcox is her name.” The instructor paused and looked through the hatch and into the old ship. Turning his head back, he smiled. “This ship is 260 metres long and is armed with five twin heavy turbo-laser batteries, twenty-seven single medium laser cannons, and five ship-to-ship torpedo tubes.” He shook his head. “By modern standards, she’s a relic, but once she was the pride of the Imperial Fleet. Now, your group is assigned to bridge duty for the first rotation. That means you’ll be in the presence of officers for the first time. Treat them with the respect and courtesy you’ve been taught.” The instructor moved out of the way of the hatch. “Who knows where the billets are on this type of vessel?” He asked, looking at the recruits.

  The Floxian female shot her hand up first.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Sir.” Came a confident reply.

  “Very well. Secure your kit, then report to the bridge.” The instructor waved his arm towards the interior of the ship.

  The Floxian female led the group at a light jog into the Bailcox. The old ship had generously sized corridors, unlike more modern vessels that were made with stricter budgets in place and a less regal air about them. It took them very little time to reach the central stairwell in the middle of the ship and descend two decks to the lower level of the vessel, where all the enlisted quarters were.

  A massive bay, just under ninety metres in length, stretching almost a third of the entire bottom deck of the ship was to be the living quarters for all seventy recruits assigned to the Bailcox for the final training exercise. The massive room felt empty, creating a creepy, eerie vibe. A long hallway ran along the port and starboard sides of the ship and had multiple access points into the bay, which was filled with triple-stack bunk beds covered in sleeping bags.

  Standish waited for someone to pick a spot to bunk, dropping her kit on the ground near where they had entered the bay, and looked around the massive space. It felt empty and deserted with only twenty-four bunks. The area must have at one time held dozens more when it had been a part of the fleet before being relegated to training duty.

  “Let’s take a set in the middle!” The Floxian female said to the group who were alone in the large chamber.

  “Solid.” Standish replied. Damn, why hadn’t she made that suggestion? She moved towards a set of bunks that were already set up, and put her bag down, and gave the room another look and noticed a set of cameras that ran along the length of the ceiling, all of which appeared trained on the recruits.

  “To the bridge.” The large Tricarian said without a hint of inflexion in his voice.

  “Yeah.” Standish looked at the powerfully build alien. “Let’s do that.” Standish replied before looking at the other female in the group. “Floxian, you know the way?”

  The big, tear-drop shaped eyes of the blue-skinned alien blinked twice before responding. “There is a stairwell at the bow
with lifts we can take.” She said with a hint of excitement in her voice.

  Standish nodded before looking at the three males. “Ready?”

  They all nodded.

  “Lead away.” Standish said, confident to let the Floxian take a more senior position, even if unspoken, in the group. For now. Standish knew that the training exercise took several days. Plenty of time to distinguish herself.

  When they reached the bridge, without waiting for an invitation, Standish moved onto the command centre and stopped just behind the Ship Master’s chair, which was vacant and waited for the other recruits to line up next to her at attention. When everyone was in place, all with their heads and eyes locked to the front, and an old voice spoke to them from the side of the bridge.

  “Another class. Another group of young ones to learn the ways of the fleet.” The voice moved towards the front of the bridge, still out of view from Standish. “To explore the Empire and all the riches it has to offer, and to push the Reach and unravel new, hidden treasures that lie beyond. Stand easy.” He waved his arm at the recruits. “We are waiting on another group of recruits to join you for your first rotation.” The Ship Master moved towards the view screen that was the dominant feature at the front of the room. “Talk among yourselves.” He ordered.

  When the Ship Master came into view, he reminded her of Sla Venga from her recruitment briefing. He was old, and without decorations on his uniform, which he was wearing in the most casual manner possible without breaking too many fleet regulations, but something in his face told Standish that he had the experience. A lifetime spent among the stars.

  The training on the ship was both new and exciting to Standish, while at the same time slightly mundane. Every day her group of five recruits would visit a different section of the ship, weapons, maintenance, bridge, engineering, life support, and learn how those systems worked. Almost all of the instruction was presented by the training staff assigned to the Bailcox, and it was meant to build on the foundation of knowledge that they had been taught on Bern 36. The only real difference was that aboard the ship they were performing tasks that directly affected the ship, not a simulator back at basic.

  After the first week had passed, the rotations started again, all the while the ship manoeuvred around the Terascova system at sub-light speed. Once a day the ship would take a run through the live-fire range set up in an isolated sector of the system, where the recruits in the weapons section would fire off the ship’s energy weapons at a variety of targets. That was the second most fascinating section to work in for Standish. She preferred duty on the bridge where she was able to learn about how a ship was handled and managed.

  When the recruits weren’t being taught lessons on the various sections of the ship, they were being tested on what they had been taught. This, Standish knew, was the way she was going to make it to the top of her class.

  In the very little free-time the recruits received, they slept, ate, and occasionally fornicated, which was entirely acceptable in the fleet but frowned upon in training. For Standish, the downtime allowed her to send data-files to her father and brothers. From the messages that she got in return, it very much sounded like life at home was carrying on as usual. Maybe a change here and there in crop yields, perhaps someone in the community had a child, and maybe something unusual was going on in Port Sunlight, but that was about it. She was glad she had left, even if her routine on Bern 36 had been monotonous, just like it was on the Bailcox. Maybe the subject that she was focused on each day changed, but there was something all so uniform about it all.

  9

  The Past

  Terascova

  “Detecting higher energy levels in the reactor power-couplings.” The recruit at the engineering station didn’t sound confident.

  “Show me.” The bridge instructor said, walking over to the terminal. “Good job.” There was a pause while the instructor checked the read-out. “Ship Master, we are showing an increased output level, better call the Master Engineer.”

  The old Portean Ship Master nodded. “Proceed.” He didn’t look worried, or at least that was the impression he wanted to give the guests aboard his ship.

  Senior Instructor Marvax had spent a large portion of his time on the ship on the bridge, monitoring the recruits in the most critical situations. He had spent enough time in the fleet to know something didn’t smell right. He walked up to the Ship Master.

  “Sir?”

  The Ship Master looked up with his tired eyes. “Probably nothing.” He directed his attention towards the front of the bridge. “AG 2 Star Pilot.”

  The ship’s instructor for piloting turned around to look at the Ship Master.

  “Better take the controls.” The Ship Master ordered.

  The instructor did as he was ordered and took over from the recruit in the flight chair.

  The Ship Master toggled the ship-wide broadcast system. “Suspend all training. Ships instructors take control of your stations.” He looked up at the Senior Instructor. “Maybe you should get your recruits to their emergency stations.”

  Nodding, Marvex brought his wrist communicator to his mouth. “All Bern 36 instructors to your designated.” He was cut off before he could give his orders.

  The explosion at the rear of the ship was sudden and devastating.

  On the bridge, everyone standing was thrown across the room into the bulkhead or a systems station with thuds ringing out. Groans of pain and screams from those that were severely injured quickly followed.

  Propping himself up on one elbow, the Ship Master looked around his bridge, and finally locked eyes with the assistant Ship Master. “Damage report?”

  “Unknown damage at this time.” Came the first response. “Engineering is not reporting, inertial dampeners are off-line, and we have lost all thrust.”

  “Fuck.” Marvex brought up his comms unit. “All instructors, report!”

  The line cracked a few times before a voice came back. “Most of the recruits are in the billets.”

  Shaking his head in frustration, Marvex moved over to a display screen and gave it an inspection. The board showed the location of all the recruits and instructors on the ship.

  Looking to the front of the bridge, Marvex shouted at the ships Navigator. “Are we safe to jettison escape pods?”

  “We are clear to launch.” The report came back.

  “Ship Master?” Marvex wasn’t going to order an evacuation without going past the old Ship Master first. The safety of his recruits and team came first, but aboard any starship, the first and last word rested with the Master of that vessel.

  “Stand-by!” The old Ship Master barked back.

  The ships klaxons and alarms were blaring loudly, and it was getting hard to hear on the bridge. The old commander moved to the engineering station consul and looked over the shoulder of the instructor sat there, taking time to understand the information that was being displayed on the screens to his front.

  “Recommendation?” He asked the engineering instructor.

  “Not good.” He waved his hand at the screens. “I’m not certain what just blew, but at this rate, we’re in trouble.” The instructor added. “The power coupling failure is causing a cascading systems failure along the length of the ship. Main engineering will be compromised, and when it does, the ship will blow.”

  The Ship Master nodded and looked over at the Senior Instructor. “Get your recruits off the ship! And order a general evacuation!”

  Marvex nodded and flipped up the protective cover on a red button that was on the wall just to the side of the screen that was tracking all his staff and recruits and quickly pushed it in.

  “Under-section is away!” Reported the Detection Technician instructor.

  “How many personnel still on board?” The Ship Master demanded.

  “There are twenty-seven personnel still located in the engineering department, and forty-six in various other locations about the ship, that’s it, excluding bridge crew.”

/>   Marvex heard the report and looked at the display in front of him to check how many of his flock were still on-board. His scan revealed that he had thirty-five recruits still on the ship, most of them trapped in the engineering department.

  “Why hasn’t anyone evacuated engineering?” Marvex shouted towards the front of the bridge. He waited for a response, then moved over to the closest engineer station. “Well?”

  The closest Bailcox staff instructor looked up at him. “Either they can’t eject the compartment’s life-boat, or they can’t reach it.”

  “I’m going to handle it.” Marvex replied. Fucking technical shit always goes wrong when a ship’s in distress. Classic.

  Once off the bridge, Marvex grabbed his go-bag while simultaneously taking out his Vidder-Mae helmet, which looked like a pair of glasses, from his breast pocket, and held them to his face. The system kicked in automatically and enveloped his entire head in an orange and light blue coloured helmet equipped with advanced optics and breathing apparatus.

  Moving down the corridor, Marvex kept his arms to his front, ready for anything that might happen while the ship started to die around him. It didn’t take him long to reach the engineering compartment at the rear of the vessel. Its massive blast door was sealed shut, but a transparent armoured plate allowed him to see into the chamber, and what he saw wasn’t promising. Flames were licking the walls, and there was up-turned and scattered equipment everywhere.

  Flipping the comms unit on the door, he checked for survivors. “Is anyone there?” He gave it another try. “Anyone in there!?”

  “Senior Instructor.” It was the Ship Master. “The ship is unrecoverable. Only other crew on board are in the engineering department. We are evacuating the bridge now.”

  So much for going down with your ship, Marvex thought to himself.

  “How many are left in the engineering compartment?” He asked into his communicator.