by Ernest Filak
This didn’t make him feel any better. The ships positioned in subspace kept both visual and radio contact but moving cargo between them was a real challenge. To get the few, fortunately only a few, guests of the bride meant exorbitant expenses. Some of them could be recorded in the books as obligatory training. The number of captains sitting in the remaining rows also proved that they had chosen a similar solution. Nobody wanted to miss the first wedding at the new carrier.
“Everything is ready, Admiral,” the aide said.
He made it back very quickly. He must have walked across the other side of the room, in which, according to tradition, sat the guests of the bride. And this was another thing to worry about. Half of the room was taken up by the highest rank of the Sixth Fleet, all of them wearing their dress uniforms. Their equivalent on the side of the bride’s guests were three prisoners in striped jail jumpsuits. Behind them sat eight escort soldiers who were clearly feeling out if place here. They kept fidgeting on the soft seats. Fortunately, the corporal was smart enough to unchain the inmates. Those were sitting there gaping and admiring the multi-colored draperies and the three standard bearers standing at the front. The Admiral didn’t even want to think about what was to come after the official part of the ceremony was over. He was wondering if he should ask the staff to take the punch and all the other alcoholic beverages out of the room.
“And so it begins,” the Chief of Staff commented on the ensuing commotion.
As if to confirm his words, the voice of the host and master of the ceremony, Captain Josh Wilson, boomed.
“Everybody rise, please.”
The buzz of the voices died out. Absolute silence fell. In a moment the wedding march was being played. A young recruit led the bride into the conference room. Two drill sergeants served as witnesses. Both of them were the only ones in the room in full control of their emotions. The bride had tears in her eyes.
“It’s getting more and more interesting,” the Chief of Staff said discreetly.
“What is this recruit doing here?” the Admiral showed his discontent for the first time. “Was it really so difficult to find an officer worthy of the honor?”
“He is the bride’s guest of honor.” The revelation closed the conversation.
Admiral Gerald Williams wished he had found the time to take a look at the detailed plan of the ceremony. His aide had so fervently asked him to do so. Now he could only put on a brave face.
At least the bride fully deserved the attention that everyone was paying to her.
She looked stunning in her modest, tailored dress and was walking towards her beloved taking very small steps.
“She’s a very attractive woman,” the Chief of Staff remarked quietly. “You can find Amazons like her only in the borderland.”
The Admiral fully agreed with the man. The bride looked amazing, drawing the covetous looks of the men in the audience like a magnet. The young recruit led her to the groom. It was a General Staff officer with the insignia of a major. The three exchanged a few words, after which the recruit withdrew. The drill instructors escorting him sat on both his sides.
The ceremony was not supposed to last long in these circumstances. This was very different to the large-scale parties in the more centralized worlds, where the guests sometimes had to endure a few hours during which both partners’ lives and professional careers were presented in detail. In this case the ceremony retained the field protocol limited to the voluntary declarations of both parties and the vows that obviously followed.
“We have Paola Sun and Theodore Schmitt standing here in front of us,” the man in charge of the carrier presented the two.
He didn’t talk about their lives, limiting himself to the most important data. The ceremony looked more like what would happen if two people wanted to get married during combat where their lives were in danger. All this had a certain charm.
“My wife would never agree to anything like that,” the Chief of Staff started again.
His wife had a reputation for her love of luxury. The Admiral was secretly happy that during that wedding he had to take part in unexpected maneuvers. Maybe partly that’s why he was still single. He never found a woman ready to share the hardships of his function, the constant burden of separation, fear of death and the reshuffling in the staff and government officials. Although in his fourth year at the Academy he did meet a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but a tragedy happened that never let them realize their hopes. He has been single ever since.
Thinking such sad thoughts saw him through the rest of the short ceremony.
“Admiral, Sir, the wishes,” his aide reminded him of his duties.
As the main commander, it was his job to make suitable wishes to the newlyweds. But it was the bride’s guests who had the right to go first. It was clear that the recruit was a good friend of both of them because his wishes were long and met with a very warm reception. The bride even broke the etiquette and hugged and kissed him profusely. The three men in striped jumpsuits only talked to the bride and the officer had to make do with a laconic handshake. Apparently, there was some discord between them.
The Admiral had a lot of work to do today. He didn’t really plan on staying for the unofficial part of the ceremony. However, the wedding was so short that he decided there was no reason why he shouldn’t stay and have a drink or two.
When he was making his wishes he didn’t go above the standard phrases but his present to the couple was far from the norm in all aspects. He handed a sealed envelope to the newlyweds.
“This is a resolution from the legal office. It states that Ms Paola Sun during her whole stay in the Hadesian System did not break the law in any way. Hence all the possible accusations are deemed totally unfounded.”
☼☼☼
„Don’t drink so much,” my drill instructor warns me.
I didn’t have the courage to answer him rudely. Why tease the guy? I know that after we go back I will be punished anyway. Who would have thought that a recruit would be taking part in a ceremony in the company of the highest ranking officers before he even finishes his course. And here I’m willing to agree with them. My hand hurts from all this waving and saluting. The safest strategy is to turn my back on everything and dip my mouth in the sweet liquor. The party isn’t in full swing yet and I already feel something buzzing between my ears.
“Attention, the Admiral!” I heard a warning.
To be on the safe side I put my cup back on the bar top. I turn around and stand up fully erect like both my escorts. The older man is coming our way and I hope he will pass me by. But no, it seems that if he doesn’t change his course he’s going to crash into me. I guess in that particular moment I’m not obliged to follow the strict code rules but tell it to someone else. I’m at the lowest bottom of the food chain, quite like plankton. And here he is, the man-eating shark, right in front of me. With one move of his eyebrows he is capable of shaking my whole world upside down. And I must say I already have sixteen penalty points on my account. For addressing the admiral in a wrong way they will fucking give me another hundred, at least. That would be the end of my career long before it even started. I’m not the only one aware of the gravity of the situation, though. Both drill instructors try to turn into pillars of salt. And, to make it worse, they’re doing a very good job of it. I try to look like them as hard as I can.
At the opposite end of the room a group of revolutionaries is enjoying the situation. Alexy Pierunov boldly points at me with his finger. His cousin, Victor, is rather plastered himself. Only uncle Kola looks downcast. The red scum didn’t want to drink to the health of the newlyweds with me. They have totally lost their fucking mind and called me a traitor. If it wasn’t for Sunshine I would have struck them, no matter the consequences. Fortunately, I regained my senses at the last moment realizing that I had already come to the limit of the number of wired jaws one can get in one flight. I pretended to have taken offence and removed myself to a safe distance. No
t surprisingly, I welcomed the contents of the punch bowl with pleasure.
“So how is the training going?” the Admiral asked.
I hoped one of the instructors would answer him but both pricks remained silent as the grave.
“It’s mostly the instructors screaming and the cadets weeping, Sir,” I answered trying to come up with a response that would please a high-ranking officer and not seem too cheeky.
I guess I did well. The Admiral kept asking further.
“How many penalty points?”
“Sixteen, Sir.”
“Which attempt?”
“The first one, Sir.”
“Quite a good result then,” I heard praise in his voice. “What results do the other recruits from the Hadesian System manage to get?”
This particular question wasn’t directed at me and one of the instructors rushed with the answer.
“Much better than average, Sir.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” the Admiral commented. “Although the quality of material can only be assessed in real combat.”
I didn’t answer as no question had been asked. I stood there with my eyes staring blindly at a spot in front of me. A conversation between the chief of the fleet and an ordinary recruit drew the attention of the others like a magnet. Needless to say, it was not only the admiral who had it within his power to throw me out into open space. Also, say, the commander of the Sixth Fleet Marine Corps, who was approaching taking huge steps. I had seen him on holovision and didn’t seem interested in making my acquaintance. He stood a few steps behind and only kept glancing our way with these bulky eyes of his. I could bet he could notice the smallest speck of dust on my uniform. Ah, the uniform. I must say it didn’t go without trouble here. After all, a recruit is not the same thing as a cadet who happens to leave the walls of the academy every now and then. In the case of the Unitarian course, the situation was quite complicated. Only after finishing the course could one take the pledge. So, formally I should be wearing a regular civilian suit. But how do get your hands on one of these, huh? In the end, somebody made the decision for me. I was handed a dress uniform of a private without any badges. Of course, I retained the right to wear my “666” in the collar. In a word, I felt like a fly sitting on shit, aware of the traps over its head.
“Did you enjoy the punch?”
Please, let somebody put a stop to this. Come up, make conversation, take all the attention onto themselves and let me drift into the shadows. Of course all the uniformed bastards didn’t give a shit about my comfort. And I could feel cold sweat trickling down my spine. The Admiral stood there patiently waiting for the answer. Fuck him.
“Not very much, Sir.”
“Ohhhh,” he expressed polite surprise. “And why is that?”
“It’s too weak, Sir,” I remembered to limit anything I said to the necessary minimum.
“Really? I’ll have a cup then.” In a second his adjutant arrived and handed him a cup filled with alcohol. The Admiral dipped his lips in the red drink, winced and put it aside. “You’re right. Somebody didn’t make a very good job of it.”
The waiter standing a few yards away almost swayed on his feet. Somebody was in for quite a trashing tonight. I wasn’t especially worried about it. What they fed us could hardly be called a meal. It was all tasteless mush. I didn’t feel sorry for them at all. I naively hoped that my meeting with the first one after God would come to an end with this culinary accent but no. The admiral helped himself to a canapé and continued his interrogation.
“And what type of alcohol do you prefer?”
I then realized that I had made an inexcusable mistake. I should have introduced myself first: recruit and then first and last names. But it was too late for that. Going through the blunder in my head, I answered.
“I prefer strong alcohol,” I said and before making it even worse I added, “Sir.”
The Admiral looked around scanning the crowd in the ball room. He must have been looking for the commander of the execution squad. My depressing thoughts were then broken by the arrival of the newlyweds in the company of the master of ceremony.
“Good to see you, Josh,” the Admiral addressed the commander of the carrier. “I would like you to know that this young man here shares your interests.”
“Great,” the man looked very content. “Are you interested in high speed tactics? What do you think of the Gaulie-Peterson maneuver?”
“That’s not what I had in mind,” the Admiral stopped him. “The recruit here is a fan of liquids with increased alcohol content.”
“Whisky, bourbon or vodka?” the man asked immediately.
Since you cannot execute somebody twice I answered “Moonshine, Sir.”
Theodore and Sunshine, rather than help me out here, pulled me further down.
“Pavel is quite an expert in this field.”
“He used to trade in the best stuff,” Theodore was clearly taking revenge for the broken jaw.
I did manage to make a few interesting acquaintances back in Bio&Sonic. And I was bored enough to trade a few barrels of the thing. But to make me into a wholesaler was definitely going over the top. Captain Josh Wilson took out a flask and poured it into a glass.
“I’m interested in your honest opinion,” he said handing the glass to me. I looked around at the drill instructors, who were all pretending to be invisible. Of course, they didn’t react in any way.
“Drink,” Theodore encouraged me.
I sniffed it first. Oh my God, all hairs stood on my neck. I raised the glass to the light. The liquid was cloudy, which didn’t bode well. I dipped my lips in it and tasted a bit on my tongue.
“Try it yourself,” I handed the glass to my buddy. “Don’t drink much,” I warned him.
I noticed that Sunshine’s nostrils flared at the acrid smell. I shook my head. It wasn’t right for a lady to drink the concoction, given its foul quality. The inside of my mouth burned as if cut with a razor. I had to rinse my mouth quickly.
“Excuse me for a second,” I grabbed the cup of punch, which brought immediate relief.
“And?” the commander of the carrier was losing his patience.
“The base is definitely a fruit concentrate,” I said. “It looks like the standard multi-fruit pulp was used. It was distilled too quickly and only once, which does not give us a very good quality product. I guess it is not much over thirty percent alcohol content. I would call it a semi-product.”
“Somebody has been dealing in large quantities of this stuff in my unit recently,” the Admiral finally spoke up. “We can’t find the culprits. Any suggestions?”
“This won’t be the mechanics,” Theodore came forward first, “although it’s usually them who produce the stuff.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Mechanics add preservatives,” he said, “and it makes the drink stronger.”
“These guys don’t have access to filters,” I reasoned. “I wonder if the product is sold in subspace or rather after the auxiliary engines had been used.”
“I’d say after the auxiliaries,” the carrier captain said. “Is that important?”
“These are two independent systems and they deal in different locations. The culprits must be in liaison with the ship storekeepers.” Theodore was thinking hard. “Or they entered the container before the departure and it’s registered on the cargo roster as a totally different thing.”
“We’ve checked the cooling systems of auxiliary systems about a thousand times,” the captain said.
“I don’t think they connected to the cooling systems,” I ventured an opinion. The virtual piloting curse I had done dealt with the inner structures of all the big vessels. “I believe they have the hose running somewhere between the combustion chamber and nozzles. I would rather suggest the maneuver nozzles.”
“And the cooling?” the captain asked.
“They did not necessarily need cooling. They rather needed high temperature. All they needed for condensa
tion is a coil and a barrel of water. And that’s exactly what they’re struggling with. That’s where they fail.”
“All this information narrows down our search area,” the commander of the carrier was visibly content.
“Engaging the internal affairs squad has paid off,” the Admiral summed up all our conversation.
After that the officers departed after a few words of pleasantries. I saluted and we were finally left alone.
“That was a nice ceremony,” I commented, “Mrs. Major Sun.”
The bride moved close to me and asked quietly.
“Want me to punch you in the face?”
“What for?”
“First of all, for punching my husband. Now I’m the only one who holds this right. And I don’t want you to call me that.”
“Call you what?”
“Give it a break,” Theodore interrupted. “People are looking.”
“Sunshine, don’t make a fuss,” I gave up. “You know I’m only teasing you.”
“Just make sure this is the last time,” she said.
I bowed in an exaggerated way before her.
“Certainly, milady.”
“Pavel,” Theodore warned me.
“Speaking of which, Major,” now I focused on him. “What’s all this about internal affairs?”
“It’s none of your business. You’ll find out when the time comes,” he answered enigmatically. “And make sure they don’t kick you out of the course. When the opportunity arises we will talk about your lady friend. I have a whole lot of questions.”
So now two people knew about Ingrid. I looked at Sunshine disapprovingly. Of course it didn’t make an impression on her.
“Is she here now?” she asked sweetly.
“No. She’s been quite busy recently,” I confessed.
“Oh, poor you,” Sunshine acted moved. “And who is giving you blow jobs now? Your squad mates?”
“Sunshine!” Theodore tried to curb his wife. I wished him all the best in that department, although without expecting much success.
“Oh,” I poked my head. “I would have forgotten about the most important thing.”
