An Officer’s Duty (34 page)

“I’m a psychologist as well as a priestess. Deal with it,” Bennie ordered both of them. “Speaking of which, I’m going to want weekly evaluation sessions with each of you, separately and together. Just in case the ‘elephant in the room’ starts getting out of hand. You both have promising military careers ahead of you. Let’s not shoot it all into the nearest star, shall we?”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Ia muttered. Meyun grunted and lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

“Good.” Folding her arms across her chest, Bennie studied both cadets. “Now, as for calling me what you did, regarding the…?” She freed her arms long enough to show two fists, then tucked them back together again. “I’ll admit my method of forcing this confrontation was a bit blunt, but I wouldn’t say it was
that
blunt. Apologize, both of you, and I’ll let the matter drop.”

“Sorry, sir,” Meyun apologized promptly. “It won’t happen again.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, too, sir,” Ia added. “You know I do respect you.”

“I know it won’t, and I know you do. Apologies accepted. One more thing, before I kick you out and send you back for the rest of your study hour,” Bennie said. “Ia…what exactly is a ‘
skut
’?”

“You know, I’m not entirely sure?” Ia quipped, looking up at her friend. “It was a new form of insult being tossed around on my homeworld, back when I was on extended Leave, but nobody ever actually explained it to me. Using it just seemed to fit the moment.”

Bennie chuckled. “Next time, Cadet, if you’re going to insult
an officer? Be
damned
sure you know what that insult means. Particularly if you really mean it.”

“Oh, I meant it,” Ia quipped. “I don’t know what it means, but in that moment, you
were
one. And a total, complete one at that, I’m sure of it.”

Glancing between the two women, who were now smiling at each other, Meyun flopped his hands in a shrug. “Now I
know
the two of you are best friends.”

As much as Ia wanted to protest otherwise, she kept her mouth shut. In her mind, best friends didn’t keep major secrets from each other. Her best friends were her brothers, her family. But if it was possible to call someone a close friend who didn’t know the most important parts of one’s life, then Bennie would be at the top of that list. And, scary as it was to include her Invisible Rock in the Timestream, Meyun Harper was high on that list, too.

I am so
shakked…

“Go on, get out,” Bennie ordered, moving back to the door to unlock and open it. “I’m sure you both have homework to do. I’ll set up weekly appointments for each of you—I’m supposed to be setting up counseling appointments with most of your class anyway, to make sure none of you are getting close to cracking from the strain of the fast-track pace. I’ll just schedule yours back-to-back, so we can have a few minutes of mutual elephant-discussion time.”

Ia pushed to her feet. “Understood, Commander.”

“Thank you, sir.” Rising as well, Meyun followed Ia out. He waited until they were outside, walking through the golden light angling in from the west, where the sun was getting close to the horizon. Glancing around to make sure they were alone, he asked, “So…
will
you plan on spending some of your postgraduation Leave days with me? You never did say an outright yes.”

She sighed, gaze more on the path they were taking back to the dormitory building than on him. “Yes. I
will
go with you to a hotel after we’ve graduated, and try all the things we cannot do while we are still enrolled in this Academy. But between then and now, it is the elephant in the corner, and we must ignore it so that it
stays
in the corner.”

He nodded, but said nothing more. Tucking his
hands behind his back, he strolled along beside her. Halfway to the dorm rooms, Meyun finally spoke.

“I think it has roller skates.”

Thrown off by the non sequitur, Ia blinked at him. “What?”

“The elephant, in the corner of the room,” he stated, shrugging. “I think it has roller skates. What do you think?”

“Ahh.”
Caught off guard by the quip, she scrambled to think of a suitable reply. “I…think it’s…black with gold polka dots?”

That made him laugh, while Ia chuckled. It also released some of the tension still lingering between them. Some, but not all. There was still an elephant between them, after all.

July 25, 2493 T.S.
Hell Week, TUPSF
Vasco da Gama

They tried everything to break her. They tried demoting Ia to the lowest ranks, where she simply performed to her best ability, earning praise from the crew and the other cadets. They tried assigning her to the wrong departments for her skill sets. She asked questions, picked the right people for the job, and let
them
handle the crises afflicting the ship, giving praise when they handled it. The testing staff moved her quarters on board the
da Gama
seventeen times; she just packed and unpacked each time with heavyworlder speed and Marine Corps efficiency.

Sleep deprivation was nothing new for her, though it did cause several of the others to stumble. They were given slightly more sleep than the recruits back in Basic had been allotted, but never quite enough. On the last day, with everyone—even Ia—numb-tired from constant alerts, battle scenarios, engine breakdowns, stellar anomalies, pressure-suit drills, and more, the orders Ia had anticipated finally echoed through the ship’s intercom system.

“Cadet Ia, report to de bridge on de double. Acting Keptin Wong, prepare to transfer command of de
da Gama
to Cadet Ia.
”

Pausing just long enough to lock and web her cleaning equipment so it wouldn’t go flying about in sudden maneuvers, Ia
left the upper lifesupport cabin at a fast jog. Her uniform was damp and dirty in several places from mopping up spilled tank contents, she hadn’t had time for a shower in three days, and she hadn’t dared eat a heavy meal the last time one had been served.

A deck and three bulkhead seals later, she had reached the brain of the ship, the bridge. Unlike the old seafaring ships, the bridge on a Space Force starship was buried deep in its interior, behind layers of extra plating and redundant circuit relays. This one was located slightly above the middeck, and on the Frigate Class slightly to the aft as well, but otherwise more or less centered.

Cadet Wong unstrapped himself from the captain’s console. Saluting Ia, he stated crisply, “Acting Captain Ia, you have the bridge.”

She saluted back. “Thank you, Cadet Wong. Report to Acting Lieutenant Jinja-Marsuu in lifesupport, on the double.” Dropping into the seat, its cushions still warm from his body heat, she strapped herself in and entered her command passcode, then toggled the intercom system on.
“All hands, this is Acting Captain Ia. I believe we have only a matter of hours left before the end of Hell Week, so prepare for the absolute worst they can throw at us. But don’t worry. Obey my orders, put your trust in me, and I’ll do my best to see that we make it through.”

She didn’t bother to request a greenlight from all stations. They had been at this for a solid week, with the non-cadet crewmember swapping out every eight hours in different duty shifts, the same as their evaluators. But not the cadets being tested. In space, there would be no chance for a greenlight ready-check. Whatever happened, whenever it happened, they would have to be ready for it as they were.

Right now, Ia was tired enough that skimming the timestreams took more energy than she wanted to spare, because right now, the probabilities were just about dead even that any single one of a dozen different scenarios would be played upon them. The level of confusion was not quite to the point of forming a grey mist over the streams, but it was close.

Swapping channels, she contacted the Special Forces captain she had met on her first full day at the Academy, the chief officer of the DoI oversight team assigned to evaluate each and
every cadet in Class 1252.
“Acting Captain Ia to Captain Rzhikly, the
Vasco da Gama
is ready for orders.”

“Your orderz are to rendezvous vit Battle Platform
Freeman.
Coordinates are being zent to your left secondary—”

“Query, sir,”
Ia interjected before he could order the start of the simulation.
“Is the location of Battle Platform
Freeman
at the rendezvous point widely known, or a military secret?”

“Vhy do you need to know dat?”
Captain Rzhikly asked, his confusion conveyed in his tone.

“It might have a bearing on my command decisions, sir. As the captain, I’d know in advance if its location was public knowledge, or if it had been secretly moved to this location for whatever reason.”

“Ehhh…
fleep a coin!”
he ordered over the comm.

A couple of mouths twitched upward on the cadets around her. Ia quickly patted down the front of her shirt, squirmed in her seat, and dug a handful of brown tenth-credit chits out of her trouser pocket.
“Right. Heads, it’s a secret rendezvous; tails, it’s a widely known location.”

Flicking the quasimetallic coin with her thumb, she tumbled it up, down, and deftly caught it in her left hand, slapping it onto the right one. Lifting her hand away, she displayed the “heads” side of the iridescent chit balancing on the back of her hand toward the observation pickups in the ceiling.

“Heads, sir. The rendezvous coordinates are a military secret. I will keep them as a secret for my eyes only, and relay only directional instructions to the crew.”

Dropping the coin in her shirt pocket, Ia studied the coordinates on her left secondary screen, then closed the file, locking it to her command passcode. She tapped in a quick query to identify their ship’s location in the simulation, and noted that they were just a single star system away. That suggested they were going to be hit hard and fast before they could even leave this system. Another touch of the controls pulled up information on both systems, this time on her right secondary screen.

“Right. Anything else we should know about this simulation, Captain?”

“Just get your ship and her crew bekk to de Platform, Cadet. Scenario beginz in five…four…tree…”

“All hands, brace for
anything
,” Cadet Bruer muttered. A
couple of the others laughed mirthlessly at that. The green lights indicating the pause between simulations faded out, leaving the normal white-spectrum lights glowing softly overhead. Ia was the last cadet to be given the captain’s position. Their last test had begun. From this point forward until the end of the exercise, they were to treat everything as if it were real, from actions to reactions, ranks to regulations, essentials to emergencies. Just like they had all week long, whenever they were freed from the verdant glare of the green overhead lights, this was all presumed to be real.

Nothing happened.

In fact, nothing happened for several minutes. Ia didn’t trust it. There were still too many choices for the testers to pull on them. She spent those minutes checking the database records on the local system, and the system where they were to rendezvous with the Battle Platform. Tired as she was, reaching deep enough into the timestreams to gauge the probability of which scenario would actually be picked would be too exhausting. There were too many choices, and she had to stay too close to the real world to be able to react in time.

It was better to stay loose and flexible right now, and that meant having plenty of information at her fingertips. They were on the fringe of Terran space, not far from the Tlassians and the Choya. Neither system was inhabited, which would cut down on the potential for civilian casualties—crossing off at least three possible scenarios on her precognitive list—but then neither was fully mapped, either. That added at least two more possibilities. Ones which, at FTL speed, made her nervous.

“Helm, slow to one-quarter Cee. Shields up and sensors on full. Navigation, get us the system buoy pings, on the double.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The ship lurched as it slowed across the lightspeed barrier. Centuries ago, either Einstein or the people who followed him had made a major mathematical mistake. Faster-than-light travel was quite possible, but the Terrans had reached for the stars believing it was impossible, developing other-than-light technology instead. It took the other races of the Alliance to introduce them to the gentler, healthier, if slower FTL method of interstellar travel.

“Sir?” Bruer asked from his position at the gunnery system. “Insystem speeds? You only want to go a quarter the speed of light?”

“This system is only partially surveyed. I don’t want—”

CLANNNGG!

The ship rocked, jolting everyone in their seats. The interior force fields snapped on, cutting down on the bad bruising the restraint straps would have delivered. They cut off a second later, just as loud klaxons blared in the eerie up-and-down stuttering wail of a hull breach.

“
That
to happen,” Ia finished, teeth clenched. “All stop! Report!”

“All stop, Aye, sir!” Cadet, or rather, Commander Vizzini called back, hands working the helm controls.

“Captain, hull breach on Decks 2 and 3, starboard bow,” Abbendris reported from her position at the ship systems station. The decks rumbled with the application of the thruster fields, and everything swayed forward. “We’ve lost L-pod 1 and P-pod 1, sir.”

“Do we have casualties?” Ia asked.

“No one was in those pods, sir,” Bruer reminded her. “The last scen—
Ah
, the last duty watch didn’t need them to be manned.”

“All hands report for greenlight,”
Lieutenant Abbendris ordered over the ship comms.
“Repair teams suit up and report to Decks 2 and 3, Section 1 interior airlocks.”

“Captain.” That came from Cadet, or rather, Lieutenant Shinowa, stationed at the navigation post. “System buoys are silent. I’ve tried pinging them, but I’m getting nothing. We’re flying blind on lightspeed wavefronts only.”

“I’m not getting a ping on any of the system hyperrelays, either,” the communications officer, T’siel, warned her.