‘Oh Ed, I really don’t know what I’d doing here, I’ve obviously not got what it takes to be a telepath, I don’t really belong in the Air Corps. They’ll probably be sending me back to Earth at the end of term.’ Jocasta filed along the back row of their next classroom, with Ed just behind her.
‘Don’t beat yourself up about it; there were at least a dozen or so others who didn’t succeed, but I don’t see them all itching to go home.’
‘I didn’t say I wanted to go, just that it might happen.’
‘Well it might happen to any of us, if we don’t tow the Elite line. Me especially, if…’ His voice trailed off as the expression on his face turned from friendly concern over Jocasta to… what was it? Horror? Fear? Dismay? She couldn’t quite make it out but as she followed his gaze to the front of the classroom it was obvious the cause of his disconsolation.
The tutor who had entered the room and was now stood at the front watching the cadets was like an older version of Ed. Tall, same build, same facial structure, same distinguished eyes. No mistaking the similarity. Only there wasn’t the easy going relaxed expression that usually appeared on Ed’s face. This tutor looked decidedly scary. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, head erect so that he appeared to be looking down his aquiline nose at them in a disconcertingly superior manner. His uniform was trimmed in the black braid of the security Corps and his eyes followed them one by one as they took their places. This time the chairs were not in two circular rows but straight uniform lines, five seats in a row each with individual desks where he indicated they should place their unopened MICs. A deferential hush settled over them while they waited several long moments for instruction; each of them sensing a rather alarming quickening of the pulse in unpleasant anticipation.
‘You may be seated.’ The tone was even but the words clipped short and fast. ‘This, cadets, will be a lesson for you in more ways than one. You are here to learn about discipline,’ the word seemed heavily emphasised, ‘and the history of the Elite as a specialist unit. You should all be aware of its third discipline. To serve and strive for perfection in all that we say, think or do.’ A few cadets, including Cally, eagerly nodded their heads in agreement.
‘Now before we finish with the introductions,’ he continued, though it seemed to Jocasta that they’d not actually started any, ‘some of you may have noticed a similarity between Cadet Weisz and myself. Yes, we do share many genetic traits, not uncommon between father and son, but I wish you to understand that no favouritism will be shown, and none, I assure you, taken.’ Here he gave a cold smile. ‘In fact it may or not interest you to know that Cadet Edward Weisz had no idea that I was even resident on Mars, let alone that I should be here as your tutor. You will all refer to me as Major Weisz.’
One or two pairs of eyes had glanced sideways in Ed’s direction during this eulogy, but most of the cadets, sensing their tutor’s character, kept their eyes fixed firmly forward.
‘So, now that little matter is out of the way, let us waste no further time with the reason we are all here.’ With this he launched into a long detailed description of how the Elite came into being. Its inception as an international military unit, whose mission was to assist in the exploration of space, help colonise Mars and support the scientists who were seeking new ways to explore the universe and make contact with any sentient beings that they encountered.
It wasn’t exactly boring because Major Weisz had a knack of asking questions the second he suspected that any one of his student’s concentration might be wandering. So it was important to look interested. Although as Jocasta reflected to herself, most if not all of them had studied the historical importance of the Elite many times in their early school years.
‘Cadet Jackson, perhaps you can enlighten us to the underlying reasons for Captain Singh’s explorations of Mars’ moons, or do you feel this is an unnecessary way to further your education. Perhaps you preferred your previous lesson in the Sensorium?’
‘No Major, I mean yes Major, I can answer your question and no I’m just as pleased to be here as I was there.’ Jocasta suspected that he must be using mind probes.
‘Well Cadet I think we just about followed your reasoning there, now tell me about Captain Singh and his unfortunate trip to Phoebus!’
Luckily her synopsis of the event that had led Captain Singh to be duped into going to Phoebus in the search for rare minerals, and his subsequent lost of life, satisfied Major Weisz and he moved on to illustrate the Elite’s power to punish such sabotage with incarceration and hard labour.
The end of the lesson couldn’t come fast enough for Ed whose father set more questions at him than anyone else in the room. Presumably, Jocasta thought, to prove to the rest of them how their relationship wasn’t going to be biased in Ed’s favour. But perhaps, she pondered, it might have been wiser if nothing had been said at all.
This time it was Ed’s turn to fret as they left the classroom.
‘The rat,’ he smouldered, ‘making such an issue out of it all, and then firing those stupid questions at me. Just to make me seem like the idiot he’s always telling me I am. Wish I’d never been chosen to come here. Or–’ he paused with a quick glance over his shoulder before continuing with his outburst, ‘that they banned parents from tutoring their own children.’
‘Come on Ed!’ Jocasta tried to speak in a placating tone. ‘Could have been worse, at least you managed to answer most of his questions and they were much harder than anyone else’s.’
‘S’pose so,’ he grumbled. ‘It’s just, just…’ his voice trailed off. ‘Oh I don’t know. Everything was going fine until now. Let’s hope the afternoon’s lesson will be calmer.’
‘But isn’t that on Astronomical weather storms?’ Jocasta squinted at her timetable, checking the subject matter.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Ed said gloomily. ‘Fat chance.’
‘Agreed, on that one at least,’ A girl named Antigone sidled up to them, looking Ed in the eye and ignoring Jocasta completely. ‘Mind if I tag along?’
‘If you like,’ Ed replied rather distantly. ‘It’s a free world.’
‘But not a free Mars.’ She had lowered her voice just enough for Jocasta to wonder if it was a rather poor attempt at a joke or whether Antigone was trying to convey something else. ‘Your father would have us all cloned into perfect Elite soldiers if the last lesson was anything to go by.’
‘Yep, you’re right there.’ He looked at Antigone with a little more enthusiasm. ‘We’re just going to grab a bite to eat before the next lesson, you can join us if you like.’
‘Don’t mind if I do.’ She smiled at Ed and released the clip from her dark auburn hair so that it hung loose about her shoulders. Jocasta just made out Tara’s comment about ‘flouting hair regulations’ before they were quickly swept along with the other cadets towards the nearest foodpoint.
Chapter Twelve
The afternoon lecture turned out to be the most exciting of the day. They were allowed to create mini storms within the special designated tanks and could watch the effects that might be wrought on different spacecraft and even asteroids.
Jocasta and Tara managed to unleash the power of an ion storm. They gazed in wonder as its magenta waves ebbed and flowed within the tank, jostling the half a dozen miniature spacecraft to within millimetres of the side of the container. This resulted in their robot helper issuing a curt warning that the pressure was so intense it was likely to explode the tank and catapult the spacecraft as tiny missiles across the room. Jocasta assured Tara, who was picking distractedly at the purple pads that covered her lip piercings, that their calculations were quite correct and the only danger was from the flying saucers that had escaped from their neighbours experiment and were zigzagging across the room at frightening speeds.
‘If someone doesn’t catch them soon or slow them down at least, they’ll be in danger of decapitating someone,’ a student remarked pointedly.
‘Caution,’ Tara muttered, ‘l
ow flying UFOs, capable of decapitation.’
‘They really should have hazard signs up,’ Jocasta murmured in agreement.
‘I wonder if it’s possible to steer them,’ Tara mused.
‘Hmm?’ Jocasta looked up from the controls.
‘Just imagine,’ the other girl said, spreading her hands like a magician. ‘If you don’t like the look of someone, just have a go with the ol’ flying saucer – two credits a go – and see if you can lop their ugly head off! No?’
Jocasta laughed. ‘Don’t let Cally hear you say that, she’ll accuse you of an assassination attempt.’
‘Yeah, the dozy–’
‘TARA MILLER!’ The supervising officer’s voice rang through the room. Tara froze mid-sentence with a look of disgruntlement on her face. ‘Are you assisting your partner, or do you think this is a lesson for idle gossip?’
‘It’s alright, officer!’ Jocasta intervened. ‘We were just discussing the potential dangers of low flying saucers.’
‘We think they should have hazard lights,’ Tara mumbled under her breath, looking with evil intent at the officer, just as a saucer narrowly missed the top of his head.
Much to the cadets’ relief he eventually realised the potential chaos zipping over his head and with a few deft switches on the built in computer system managed to bring them under control and return them to the storm arena.
‘So,’ Tara said, rubbing her hands together, a devilish look in her eye. ‘They’re kept in the storm arena. Probably multiple locks, a password, laser eye recognition, do you think, JJ? You’ll have to be my sidekick, you know, a mission like this needs two smart brains to make it work; and if we’ve got you on our side we’ll at least have one.’
Jocasta gave Tara a poke in the shoulder. ‘Why do you get to be the… the… um…’ She cast her mind around for the correct description.
‘Hero?’
‘That’s the one. And I get the joy of being your sidekick? I hear it doesn’t pay as well.’
‘Dahling!’ Tara exclaimed, swinging her thick braids over one skinny shoulder, in a mock impression of Antigone. ‘I’ve got the looks to pull this heist off, I’m inconspicuous and endearing, you look far too intelligent: you’d give the game away! But don’t worry,’ she added in a low voice. ‘Everyone knows that the sidekick is the one with a double dose of wit.’
‘And you have double dose of sweetness and, what was it?’ Jocasta mocked, pretending to forget. ‘Inconspicuousness?’
‘See?’ Tara beamed at her. ‘There’s that old wit!’
Because Tara Miller, aside from being the smallest person in the whole Air Corps by about six centimetres, made up for it by being just about anything other than inconspicuous. She had heavy black hair braided in thick dreadlocks and possibly the loudest voice in the whole student year. She also had a twitching tattoo, much like Jocasta’s, only Tara wore hers to the side of her forehead. It was a small white rabbit with fangs and an eyepatch, which she affectionately called Tie.
It seemed the student pair in charge of the flying saucers weren’t very adept at keeping them in control, as one saucer, free again, whooshed through the air near to where Jocasta and Tara were working.
‘Whoa! That was almost a close encounter!’ Jocasta remarked, after it had whipped so close past Antigone that her had hair ruffled in its slipstream.
‘Not quite close enough for me,’ she turned and looked Jocasta straight in the eye. ‘Do you have any idea how close I can get?’
Bewildered at this reply Jocasta began to explain that she had actually been referring to the flying saucer, but Antigone’s gaze had left Jocasta’s face and she was staring purposefully past her as she made her way across the room.
‘Oooh-ooh!’ Tara exclaimed. ‘Look who’s a miss snotty nose!’
‘Oh, just leave it,’ Jocasta mumbled. ‘We better get to our next class.’
For the next forty minutes they were drilled in lines and cross overs, made to practise breath control and stress meditation, and finally allowed to return to quarters to wash and prepare for the evening assembly. Jocasta had been glad of the concentration needed for this session, as it helped to quell the anxiety she felt about Antigone’s strange remarks. However, even though she tried to dismiss it as just a misunderstanding she was unable to shake off an unpleasant sense of foreboding.
It was late that night, when Jocasta checking her mini-com noticeboard for messages was pleased and surprised to notice one from Will. Her surprise stemmed from the source of the transmission. It was not an Earth-sent one as it didn’t have the familiar ‘terra’ insignia; its origin seemed to be from a location on Mars- but that, she reasoned with herself, should be an impossibility. Will, by her calculations, should be back at lessons in Woodbridge. How or why would he be routing signals via a Mars transmitter? She ignored the standard Elite notices and the one from her father and quickly zapped open Will’s line; the short text offered no explanation but posed a rather curious question seeing he was millions of miles away.
Hope you are good and well; when is your next free Sol? Need to see you soon!
Her mind quickly leapt to David and then to the gifts Will had entrusted to them: was he up to another prank, trying to get them into trouble? Jocasta couldn’t make any discernable sense of it and although it was late and she knew it wasn’t really allowed after 10pm, (Sol linetime, that is) she fumbled in her uniform pocket to locate her Elite communicator. She was just going to send a line to David to check if he had received a similar message from Will.
But just as she pressed the send button a voice from the darkened room momentarily froze her.
‘Not content with one boyfriend then. It seems you need three to boost your ego.’
After her initial shock and fear, she checked around the room to see if one of the other girls had spoken. There wasn’t a sound from any of the other sections in the room except the low reverberating hum of Marcella and Tara’s Musicmakers. Although she didn’t see how Tara could be drifting off to sleep considering the noise made by the Super Heavy Metal Plus A Lot of Screaming, or whatever that was pounding so loudly in her ears: Jocasta could hear the bass line easily from across the room. Perhaps it had been the resonation from the music that had echoed in her mind. But even as she tried to reassure herself, she knew it was just not the case.
She flicked off her com, not wanting to chance any further accusations.
Chapter Thirteen
Waking early, in that small moment between dreams and consciousness, the question that had remained buried at the back of her mind forced itself through the chink of sleeping armour that had been her protection. Jocasta finally acknowledged that the voice from the previous evening hadn’t been from someone speaking aloud but had been inside her head. And if it wasn’t her own thoughts or voice, she realised with sudden clarity and a sickening feeling of dread, then it must be someone else. Someone close by, who could read her mind: and that, to her, was more frightening than turning into an animal or seeing into someone’s body.
She slipped out of bed to the welcome noise of her roommates’ inconsequential chattering; apparently about the new horror fiction book, Crows in the Engine Room by A. B. Trayer.
‘ “In this new novel – from the author of the thrilling Fear and Panic series,” ’ read Krysta, ‘ “a renegade group of mutant crows sabotage the last rocket from Earth. This spacecraft, bound for an unknown planet, is humanity’s last, desperate bid to save itself from annihilation. With unknown dangers, and a terrifying future before them, mirrored by the shocking undiscovered fate of the rest of their species- the humans with only a playing card and half a jar of peanut butter to hint at what abomination caused the breakdown of Earth’s most successful race must try to overcome their latest enemies. Could this be the last, best hope for humankind?” ’
There was a short silence as Krysta finished reading the blurb of her book, the one time any of them had ever heard her sound enthusiastic about something. However, she seem
ed slightly disappointed by their reaction, which was less than enthralled.
‘Obviously the author didn’t write the blurb,’ she stated, ‘because it’s a much better book than the blurb makes it sound.’
‘I think it sounds fantastic!’ Tara exclaimed excitedly.
‘Really?’ Krysta sounded as though she wasn’t sure whether she was being mocked or not.
‘Sure! I love crows! I used to dress up as a crow when I was little and pretend to fly around the playground, singing.’
Jocasta fought back a giggle, not because it sounded absurd, but because she could just imagine Tara doing something like that. ‘When you were little, Tara?’ she asked innocently.
‘Oh yeah!’ Tara replied, wide-eyed, as if a great idea had just dawned on her, and she then proceeded to wave her arms about and sing, stopping only when her communicator alerted her to a new message.
This reminded Jocasta of her message to David and the sense of fear that someone was accessing her thoughts without her permission. Apart form her curiosity about Will’s line she now needed to have the comfort of a familiar friend to confide in. Although Tara was brilliant in her own way, Jocasta had a feeling that she might take the knowledge of someone hacking into her friend’s mind as a need for the good ol’ low flying decapitation-capable saucers, and Jocasta was hoping to leave those as a last resort. But seriously, how was she going to be able to survive here if her thoughts were being tapped into like an open file? Who could she ask for advice?
Flipping open her com and activating the signal she saw with amusement that David had replied just a couple of minutes earlier, not with words but with a cartoon expressionist drawing. Will’s body stretched between Earth and Mars with gadgets attached to his clothes while David and Jocasta attempted to unravel a series of clues on how to release Will’s feet from Earth and haul him aboard Mars.
So it looked like David had received the same or similar line from Will.
Deborah Hockney Page 10
