by J. J. Green
“Not bad.” Dave was filling his bag with his Liaison Officer devices. “You’d better hurry up. Breakfast will be over soon.”
“Oh no.” Carrie swung her legs over the edge of the bunk and jumped down. “I’ll have to miss it then. I won’t have time for a shower otherwise.”
“You can’t have a shower. I’ve just cleaned it. And you shouldn’t miss breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”
“What? Why did you clean it? It’s a shower. It’s already clean.”
Dave narrowed his eyes at her. “No it isn’t. Anyway, you had a shower last night. I thought you wouldn’t have one this morning too.”
“Of course I’m going to have one this morning. What do you think I am? Dirty or something?”
Dave opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind. He took a comb from his bag and began to comb his hair in front of the mirror on the wall above her locker. He looked fantastic in his fluorescent orange uniform, as Carrie had known he would. She sighed as she remembered how hers made her look especially short and chubby. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing she was missing breakfast.
“You’d better hurry up then,” said Dave, returning his comb to his bag and fastening it. “See you later.” He shouldered the bag and left. As the door closed behind him, Carrie looked at her reflection in the mirror, checking for any spots that might have appeared overnight. She leaned in to peer at a suspicious white dot on her chin. As she did so her image disappeared, and a message replaced it. The mirror wasn’t only a mirror, it was a communication screen. The message it was displaying was the results of the deep brain scan the Council had performed on the two of them overnight.
Carrie’s hands fell away from her face as she read the figures. Their levels of ability were shown as percentages, and Carrie’s and Dave’s were very different, but not in the way Carrie would have expected. Dave’s compatibility with the role of Transgalactic Council Liaison Officer was ninety-seven per cent. Hers was thirty-four. Thirty-four.
She gripped the sides of her locker. How could it be possible? She had always known that her selection for the Officer role had been a fluke. She had happened to write an ad on a dating website that was the exact code for the job application, and because she loved the Officer’s bag she had strong-armed Gavin into taking her on. But she had always assumed, deep down, that she could do the work. Hadn’t she been the one to uncover the placktoids’ lies and their blackmailing of the squashpumps? None of the others had seen what she had, not even oh-so-perfect Belinda. And hadn’t she discovered that the placktoids were in league with the dandrobians, former tyrants of the galaxy?
Could it be true that she was terrible at the job, and that level-headed Dave would be much better? She swallowed as she thought of the week ahead, imagining her friend, who she had taken such pains to persuade to come along, beating her at every exercise. She imagined the final decision by the Council to fire her and hire Dave instead. And he didn’t even want the job.
The results glared out at her from the screen. She couldn’t let Dave see them. It was just too embarrassing. She waved a hand over it and breathed a sigh of relief as the message disappeared.
***
Her friend looked at her quizzically as she entered the training room. Guessing her misery must be written all over her face, she faked a smile and went to the opposite end of the line of trainees. She could avoid difficult questions until break time at least, and hopefully by then she would have got over her shock and could act more normal. The room was empty. Carrie wondered what today’s training was. She hadn’t had time to read her briefing device.
The other trainees ranged out between her and Dave, all variously attired in bright orange. The large green blob, who had introduced herself at dinner as Audrey, got about by rolling, and seemed almost entirely encased in fabric. For some reason the faceless hairy creature only had a narrow circlet of orange around its head. The box the oootoon lived in had been painted orange.
Errruorerrrrrhch was leading the session. “Welcome...at last,” said the alien to Carrie as she took her place. “As I was just explaining, due to the current pan-galactic crisis, we have decided to include additional elements in our Officer equipment and training. Customarily, Council staff are unarmed. Our roles are diplomatic and the possession of weapons is contrary to our aims of administration, coordination, management and reconciliation. In the present climate, however, Officer safety is our primary concern. Unity and Council staff are stretched thin across the galaxy as we attempt to locate the placktoids and protect galactic citizens, and it is possible you may find yourselves alone and in danger.”
Weapons. Cool, thought Carrie. Images of scifi skirmishes on TV and film, with phasers, laser guns and other futuristic arms, came into her mind. But how will we fit them in our bags?
“We are also faced with the problem that placktoid exoskeletons are notoriously strong and tough, and the most powerful weaponry penetrates them poorly, even at close range. The latest weapon designs are, we believe, more effective, though of course we have no placktoids to test them on, were such an endeavour even ethical,” the insectoid alien paused before adding, “which it is not.”
Carrie sighed. When was she going to stop waffling and give them their guns?
“This morning you will practice using the new equipment, but once training is over, all weapons must be returned. It is strictly prohibited to carry these or any other arms aboard a Council starship.”
Duh! Come on, hurry up. Glancing at the squashpump beside her, Carrie wondered how on Earth it was going to carry a massive laser cannon.
“Now, please collect a weapon. I will explain how to use them before we begin.”
Carrie looked around the room. Where was the gun cabinet? Or big box of arms? Then she saw it. At Errruorerrrrrhch’s feet, or rather, her front claws, was a square hole. A small, square hole. Elbowing the other trainees aside, she went to it, squatted down and looked in. The hole was full of small green objects about the size of cigarette lighters. She sat back on her heels. These are the weapons? She picked one up. It was smooth and rectangular. There was no trigger nor even a button to press.
“I apologise, Officer Hatchett,” said Errruorerrrrrhch. “In the haste to design and manufacture these weapons, we were unable to include the usual attachments for human use. Hopefully, during this session both you and the other human can learn to use thought operation.”
“Tsk. They canna work things w’ their minds?” said the squashpump. It had jumped into the hole and was holding a weapon with its tentacles.
“Don’t be rude,” said the oootoon, as Errruorerrrrrhch dropped a weapon into it. The green object sank beneath the yellow liquid before bobbing to the surface. “They can’t help it. Humans are very nice. One day they’ll catch up. Yes, one day. No need to point out their weaknesses.”
“Och, you’re right. Sorry aboot that.”
“That’s okay,” said Carrie. Dave tried to catch her eye as he collected a weapon, but she looked away.
Errruorerrrrrhch explained that the trainees would practise shooting holograms of the various placktoid types until break time. The weapons were set to practice mode so they were harmless, but she warned the humans to take care they didn’t accidentally change the settings to operational.
Crap, Carrie thought, how am I supposed to tell?
“Simply point the weapon at the target, concentrate hard, and will it to fire,” Errruorerrrrrhch advised her and Dave.
When holographic placktoids appeared before them, all the trainees except the humans fired their weapons simultaneously, and the placktoids they hit blinked out. Carrie pointed her weapon at a stapler placktoid and willed it to fire with all her might, but nothing happened. She was secretly pleased to see Dave also fail. It was one thing at least he didn’t do better than her.
But on the next try, Dave’s weapon sputtered to life and a bright beam shone out, while Carrie drew another blank. He didn’t hit a placktoid, but he had done
better than her. He looked over at her, grinning. Carrie returned a half-hearted smile, and frowned with concentration as another set of placktoids appeared. This time they were moving, though slowly. Again, she failed to fire her weapon. Dave not only fired, he hit a placktoid. He whooped, and Audrey bumped into him in what Carrie supposed was a gesture of congratulations.
By break time, Carrie had, with a huge effort of concentration, managed to fire her weapon once, and at the time she had been pointing it at Errruorerrrrrhch, who had performed an impressive feat of gymnastics in leaping right across the room.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get there.” said Dave as they forced down a drink that was pretending to be coffee, though it actually tasted like a throat infection Carrie had contracted when she was nine.
It might have been her imagination, but she was sure she detected a patronising tone in her friend’s voice.
Chapter Eight – Decisions, Decisions
“You will be given further opportunities to practise using the new weapons at regular intervals during your training,” said Errruorerrrrrhch as they lined up for the afternoon session. Carrie’s heart sank. Her skills at controlling a gun with her mind hadn’t improved much after the morning break. She had always known her powers of concentration weren’t good, but being beaten by a box of custard was pretty demoralising. Dave’s prowess had improved with each shot he took.
Oh well, Carrie thought, maybe this session will be about something I’m good at.
“This afternoon we will be concentrating on logical thought processes and effective decision-making.”
Carrie’s shoulders slumped. The door opened, and a robot cart carrying an assortment of helmets entered. The two that looked as though they were for Carrie and Dave had opaque visors similar to those on Unity helmets. Errruorerrrrrhch instructed the trainees to put on their helmets. Carrie wondered how the oootoon would put on a helmet, but when she looked around she couldn’t see its box. She put up a hand. “Shouldn’t we wait for everyone to arrive?”
“All the required trainees are present,” replied Errruorerrrrrhch. “Where a session has little benefit to a candidate, it does not appear on the individual’s schedule. During this free time the trainee is expected to practise other skills. This information was stated in your itinerary on your briefing device.”
Oh, that, thought Carrie. She would have to have a look at it that evening after dinner. She closed the visor on her helmet and a vision of a landscape appeared before her eyes. A familiar landscape. The legend at the bottom of the screen read:
THESE SCENARIOS ARE DRAWN FROM REAL-LIFE TRANSGALACTIC INTERCULTURAL COMMUNITY CRISIS LIAISON OFFICERS’ EXPERIENCES. AT THE CRUCIAL DECISION POINT THE SCENE WILL FREEZE AND YOU WILL BE OFFERED SEVERAL OPTIONS. YOUR FINAL DECISION WILL BE RECORDED BY YOUR DEVICE. THE PROBLEMS INCREASE IN DIFFICULTY.
Carrie sat on the floor and crossed her legs as the video began to play. She was back in Dandrobia, at her first meeting with the dandrobians and squashpumps. The events played out exactly as she remembered them. A gust of wind blew, toppling the squashpump Foreign Secretary’s column, which sliced him in two. The squashpumps began leaping onto dandrobian heads and invading their brains in revenge. Apate, the ebony-haired dandrobian, appeared from behind Carrie’s seat, wringing her hands and telling Carrie she must leave right away before the rest of the squashpumps arrived. The screen froze and words appeared.
SHOULD YOU:
A) IMMEDIATELY CONTACT YOUR MANAGER TO OPEN A TRANSGALACTIC GATEWAY
B) REMAIN DURING THE HOSTILITIES IN ORDER TO ASSESS THE SITUATION FURTHER
C) PUT A SAFE DISTANCE BETWEEN YOURSELF AND THE UNHARMED DANDROBIAN BEFORE CONTACTING YOUR MANAGER AND REQUESTING A TRANSGALACTIC GATEWAY
D) NONE OF THE ABOVE. PLEASE INSERT YOUR ANSWER
Carrie’s face burned. She wondered whether the other trainees knew this had happened to her. Dave certainly did. Now that she saw the options in black and white, the right decision seemed obvious, but she decided to submit the decision she made at the time anyway. The Council hadn’t been there. They didn’t know what it had been like when she was in the middle of it all. She concentrated and thought the letter A.
WRONG. THE CORRECT ANSWER IS C. IF YOU GAVE AN UNLISTED ANSWER A RESPONSE WILL BE SENT TO YOUR CABIN COMMUNICATION DEVICE THIS EVENING.
As the next scenario appeared, Carrie’s heart sank further. Now she was back on the placktoid starship after her first encounter with the placktoid commander. She was lifted into the giant paperclip and returned to the oootoon planet surface, where the paperclip dumped her in the yellow oootoon ocean. When she had made it to shore, the screen froze.
SHOULD YOU:
A) COMMUNICATE WITH THE OOOTOON USING YOUR TRANSLATOR AND ATTEMPT TO FIND OUT WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE MISSING PLACKTOIDS.
B) CONTACT YOUR MANAGER FOR INSTRUCTIONS
C) EAT SOME OF THE OOOTOON (THIS IS A SERIOUS OPTION)
D) NONE OF THE ABOVE. PLEASE INSERT YOUR ANSWER
Carrie cringed and thanked her lucky stars the box of oootoon wasn’t at the session. This time even she couldn’t justify her actions. She thought the letter A. The screen flashed CORRECT WELL DONE before moving on to another sequence of events.
By the end of the afternoon her head was buzzing with decision-making. She hadn’t thought it was possible for your brain to actually hurt with thinking. For all her effort, she only managed to score seventy-five per cent correct. As she removed her helmet, she caught sight of Dave’s face. He was smiling, and when he noticed her looking at him, he gave her a thumbs up. She smiled back weakly.
As they returned to their cabin to freshen up before dinner, her friend chattered about how much fun the afternoon had been. Carrie said little, and when her friend told her he had scored ninety-one, she congratulated him without reporting her own result.
They hadn’t gone far before Errruorerrrrrhch caught up with them. Carrie was grateful for the distraction until the alien said, “I hope you were not excessively dismayed by the Council’s use of your own experiences as an Officer in our training material. It is standard practice. We have found that trainees benefit most from observing real-life experiences in the field.”
“Oh no, I don’t mind at all,” replied Carrie through her teeth. Dave looked away.
“Good. It is always preferable to accept our errors and learn from them. Do you not agree?”
“Yes, I...hello, Gavin.” Her former manager had appeared around a bend in the corridor, covered in his children. As soon as he spotted them, however, he about-faced and sped away. “Wow, what’s up with him?”
Errruorerrrrrhch chittered. “He is fearful of me. It is very tiresome. In our species, the mother is occasionally driven to eat the weaker of her offspring. It was for this reason it became the custom for the father to care for them during the earliest stage, when they appear the most tasty. Of course, I would never dream of ingesting the little...morsels. Their father is excessively cautious.”
Dave stumbled and fell against the wall, where he remained as Carrie and Errruorerrrrrhch walked on. Carrie swallowed. “It seems a bit weird he’s here, then. I mean, if he’s so paranoid that you’ll eat your kids.”
“Your words surprise me, Officer Hatchett. You are apparently unaware that your manager has a special attachment to you. His philandering habits were about to result in his third and final dismissal from a Transgalactic Council position when you uncovered the placktoid plot, thereby winning him a reprieve. He believes you have a fresh and original approach to your role. He is here to watch over your progress as he does not wish to lose you from his team. From the discussions we have had regarding your performance, I believe it would not be excessive for me to say that he cares about you.”
Her vision suddenly blurring, all Carrie could say was, “Really?”
***
The news that Gavin was there for her had eased Carrie’s mind a little by the time she got back to the cabin with Dave. Maybe she could go to him for tips
on what to do to get through the week and pass the course.
The clothing that had been placed on their bunks in readiness for the next day’s training also made her feel better. At last, here was something she had a chance of succeeding in. Something she knew she could do much better than Dave. On her bed was a fluorescent orange swimsuit, and on Dave’s were swimming trunks.
Her friend blinked several times. “But I can’t swim.”
Chapter Nine – Into the Deep
Carrie dived eagerly into the clear water of the Council starship swimming pool the following day. She swam to the far end of the pool, flipped, pushed away with her feet, and swam back again. Dave stood at the edge, his arms hanging at his sides. Propping her elbows on the pool wall, Carrie looked up at her friend. “Jump in,” she said. “It’s shallow at this end. Look.” She stood on the bottom to show him that the water only came up to her shoulders.
Dave sat down and slid carefully into the water. He shivered and gripped his upper arms. “It’s freezing.”
“No it isn’t. Splash about a bit to warm yourself up.”
He patted the water like it was a friendly dog. Carrie turned her head to hide a smile.
“I don’t know why they’ve included swimming in the training,” said Dave. “It isn’t like we’d ever use it.”
Noting her friend’s use of ‘we’, as if finally imagining himself as a Liaison Officer, Carrie replied, “Of course we could. Remember when we got thrown in the oootoon ocean? If you’d been able to swim you wouldn’t have panicked so much.”
“I didn’t panic.”
“Yes, you did. I told you to keep still, but you were flailing about like a fish on speed.”
Dave’s mouth lifted at a corner. “Well, maybe a little. So would you if you thought you were going to die.”
