by Kal Spriggs
She stepped around my gear and moved to her desk. I could feel her eyes on me, but I focused on each individual piece, making sure I'd attached it just right. Being certain that everything was just where it needed to be. There was something soothing about that. I didn't have to think. Everything was under control...
“I think I threatened to kill the supply clerk today,” I admitted to my friend as I worked.
“Oh?” I could feel her eyes on me. I knew she was worried about me. “She probably deserved it.”
I snorted at that. “Yeah, she did. But I didn't like doing it.”
“She'll live,” Sashi sniffed. “Have you seen your drill assignment yet?”
“Yes,” I bit the word out, my anger washing back. “Squad leader for perimeter defense.”
“I saw,” Sashi said after a long moment. She didn't need to say more. Squad leader was normally an assignment for a Cadet Third Class. Normally, me being a Cadet Second Class, I'd have a section command position and a duty assignment working directly for a Cadet Officer. The fact that my “squad” was made up of random cadets and plebes from different companies didn't bode well for me, either.
“You?” I asked.
“A Cadet Petty Officer position with Viper Company,” Sashi sighed.
“That could be good, right?” I looked up from the shoulder pad that I'd been trying to tie into the chest armor. Since there were three points that it had to hook in and none of them would fully connect until the pad was just perfectly lined up, it had been taking me a while.
“I guess,” Sashi leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling. “But it's Viper, you know? They're not really known for trusting outsiders.”
“Didn't Karmazin take over their candidate training?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Sashi nodded, “he took over from Hodges... who's now in our class and who, I guess, is going to be the other Cadet Petty Officer for Training. So I'll be working with him, every day.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Sorry.”
“Could be worse,” Sashi admitted. She gave me a smirk, “I could be a squad leader on perimeter detail with a bunch of people I don't know, right?”
“Hah,” I grunted. But she got a smile back from me. “You're terrible at cheering me up, you know?”
“What are friends for, right?” Sashi's smile faded. “Seriously, though, are you okay?”
My slight smile disappeared and I looked back down at my armor. As I looked at all the work I had to do, still, it was all that I could manage not to fling it into the wall. I wanted to scream in frustration and pound my fists into something. “No, I'm not okay, but I don't really know what to do about it.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sashi's voice was calm, reassuring.
I gave her a look, “Not right now. Maybe not ever. I don't know.” I frowned at her, “When did you get so, I dunno, wise?”
“I've been seeing a mental health counselor for the past few months,” she said with a wry grin. “She and I have had a... lot of conversations. I gather she found me interesting.”
“Oh,” I stared at her, “That kind of thing, doesn't the Militia frown on it?” There was something of a stigma with needing help like that. I mean, if you needed help, didn't that mean you had a problem? I thought about the psychologist I'd seen at the main hospital in Duncan City, after my encounter with Tony Champion's smuggler friends. The psychologist had seemed to think I was mentally unstable, because I hadn't shown much remorse for killing several of the smugglers while defending myself. I didn't want another encounter like that, I'd hated how she'd made me doubt myself.
Sashi shrugged, “The official policies are that if you're getting help, they can't hold it against you. The amount of stuff I've been through... yeah, I needed the help. For that matter, Jiden, the amount of stuff you've been through...”
“I haven't had good experiences with head doctors,” I noted.
To my surprise, Sashi laughed at that. “Yeah, I hadn't even thought about Doctor Aisling.”
I laughed too, as I realized what I'd said. My laughter was a bit bitter, though, with what I'd overheard through my implant. The pirates were after me... I couldn't say it, not even to Sashi, not to any of my friends. How would they look at me if they knew that my parents had died because of me?
How could I look at myself, if that was the case?
“Anyway, the school counselor, she's really good. She's Militia trained, prior service. You might see her. If nothing else, it's nice to talk to someone who understands,” Sashi left it at that.
I grunted noncommittally and went back to my armor. I didn't want help. I didn't need to talk to anyone. I was fine. Maybe if I kept telling myself that enough, it would be true.
***
Chapter 4: So Much For Keeping My Head Down
Saturday drill started off wrong and it went worse.
Everyone had to scramble to get to their positions. I hadn't known it, but Sand Dragon Company's barracks were positioned near our normal assigned drill positions. When the alarms went off, normally the upperclassmen could escort and direct the plebes on the way to their own assignments.
Only this time, we weren't at our normal assignments. My position was on the other side of the Academy grounds. And half of Sand Dragon's First Class Officers were scattered to different postings. It was something akin to chaos as every cadet on the grounds ran off in different directions.
I showed up to my assigned position barely on time... only to find that I was the only one there. I started pinging my assigned plebes through my implant. None of them were where they needed to be, several of them were on their way, but the others were lost and I started guiding them in. But the school communications network was jammed up as everyone else tried to do the same thing.
To my amusement, I stood and watched a team assigned to the opposition force wander through my area, trying to find their assembly point. They were all plebes and I knew, by drill protocol, that I could have shot them down where they stood, but instead I felt pity on them and forwarded them a set of directions with my implant.
I watched them jog off and I wondered if the rest of the day was going to go like this.
***
It took almost three hours for the mess to get sorted out. A full hour of that was everyone trickling into their assigned positions. Some of the Cadet Company Commanders had insisted their cadets assemble at their headquarters before they reported to their positions. That had further delayed things, especially as two of my squad showed up to the defensive position and then had to turn around and race back to report in, just to run back out, again.
The next two hours, though, were worse. After the initial confusion, someone had ordered everyone to stand down while commissioned officers came out to each position to inspect everything. I'd just put my people in their positions and was told to have them come back and assemble for inspection. But the Academy only had a dozen or so commissioned officers and there were thousands of cadets. So we had some time to wait.
What was supposed to happen was a sharp, hard-contact drill to put everyone in the right mindset. What it turned into was a dull waste of time. By the time that Commander Barber arrived, the sun was up and it was starting to get hot. He had an impatient look on his face when he showed up, but I had everyone formed up and ready for inspection. I'd inspected them myself, so I wasn't too worried.
He walked down the line, counting heads and checking them against his datapad. “Everyone's present, good,” he nodded. He was a tall, stoop-shouldered man, his expression intent. He moved with a sort of nervous energy, his head snapping around to look at movement. It was hard for me to picture a more different replacement for Commander Bonnadonna. “Gear looks good,” he noted, “it's not set up to Academy standard, but that can be corrected...”
“Academy standard?” I asked in confusion. Normally we started with our company standard and then, over time, adapted the positioning and wear of our equipment to best suit our missions we
carried out and our own physiques. We kept everything in the same general area so that medic kits and such were readily available and could be found in combat, but that was more common sense than anything. As far as I knew, there wasn't an “Academy Standard.”
“Yes, Rear Admiral Fischer published it after the start of the drill,” Commander Barber noted. “He conducted an inspection and noted differences between uniform and gear wear, he wanted a standardized method to achieve a consistent appearance between companies.”
“But sir,” I noted, “shouldn't we tailor our gear to our missions?”
Commander Barber started to answer and then seemed to think better of it. “I'm sending you the Academy Standard, Cadet Second Class...” he stared at my nametape on my body armor, “Armstrong?!” He blinked at me in surprise. He looked back at his tablet and then back at me. “Admiral Armstrong's... granddaughter? I thought her family was killed.”
“No, sir,” I gritted through my clenched jaw, “I'm the only survivor on-planet.”
“Oh,” he seemed suddenly sheepish, “well. Right. I, uh, transferred you the standard, Cadet Second Class Armstrong. Please disseminate it to your squad and, um, carry on?”
I snapped out a sharp salute, “Yes, sir.” I sort of wanted to shoot him somewhere painful.
“Excellent, right...” He looked around, “My next position to inspect is Six Alpha...” He wandered off, looking a bit confused, in the wrong direction.
I knew he was new here, but I was new to this position, too, and I'd consulted the map through my implant and located my position just fine. I would have thought, if he'd been assigned to inspect cadets, that he'd been given time to familiarize himself with the locations... right?
I pinged him on my implant directly to his ear-piece, “Sir, Six Alpha is three hundred meters to the west of our current position.” I did it that way so that the plebes wouldn't know he was going the wrong way.
He looked sharply at me and then at the plebes. He seemed to realize why I'd done it that way and he gave me a sharp nod. I watched as he walked off in the right direction, at least.
Then I pulled up the “Academy Standard” for gear. As I considered it, I had to bite my lip.
Everything was on the front of the body armor. Which was fine, I supposed, for an inspection. But it was cluttered. Ammunition magazines were stacked in tight, so close it would be hard to draw, especially those of us who were small and had smaller body armor. The medic pack was high on the chest on the right side, where it would be hard to reach around everything else. Worse, a lot of the “extra” stuff that we didn't normally carry was now considered “standard.” Stuff like dust filters, which we normally only carried when operating during a sand storm, and gas mask and filters too, which they didn't normally even issue out. From what I'd heard, the different gas mask filters had a short shelf life and once we used them on the masks, exposure to the sand and dust of Century's air pretty much destroyed them within a couple of days.
I didn't like the new “standard” mostly because it was going to add a good twenty pounds of gear and equipment to what I had to carry. I wasn't big. I wasn't made of muscle. I was fit, but my gear already weighed almost fifteen kilograms. I didn't know if I'd be able to walk with all that weight added, especially with most of it stocked at the front center of my body armor.
I did as I was ordered, though, pushing it out to the plebes under my command. “Reconfigure your equipment,” I said. “If you're missing equipment, let me know and I'll take note of it.”
We spent the next thirty minutes doing just that. All of them were missing some of the items. The dust filters were the big one. No one wanted to carry the heavy dust masks around unless it was necessary. Even when we had to wear them, they were a pain that many chose to ignore and just deal with the dust rather than sweat and struggle to breathe through the bulky masks. No one had the gas masks, either, but that wasn't a surprise.
A few minutes after I'd finally gotten the full list of missing equipment together, a team of Cadet Officers came jogging up. I recognized Cadet Commander Woods from Sand Dragon Company, but not any of the others. “Cadet Second Class Armstrong,” he nodded at me, “what's your squad's status?”
“We've been inspected by Commander Barber, sir,” I replied. “I've finished reconfiguring my squad to the new Academy Standard for wear of gear.”
“Oh, that,” he made a face. “I'm not sure what's going on with that, but good job. Most of us are short some of the gear. Just be aware, we're all in a holding pattern while we wait for reset.”
“I've got a list of what we're short of,” I began, “But, sir, weren't you assigned to the headquarters...”
“There's been some changes,” one of the other Cadet Officers interrupted. “Commander Drien assigned us to complete his inspection of the perimeter.” The statement was very neutral. It was also a not-so-pointed hint not to ask any further questions. The Cadet Lieutenant Commander who'd spoken had a star for Regimental Staff on her collar.
“Yes, ma'am,” I replied.
Cadet Commander Woods sighed. “Good job with your people, Armstrong. Forward me the list of shortages with gear and we'll try to get it to you. Carry on.”
“Thank you, sir,” I hadn't finished speaking before they started jogging away. I didn't envy them their task. It was starting to get hot. If they had to tour the entire perimeter...
I didn't understand it, either. We'd already been visited by Commander Barber. Why had Commander Drien sent them out here, as well?
I didn't have any answers to that. I put my squad to work, digging sand out of the trench positions and using it to fill some of the waiting sandbags. It was normally a task we'd do when they'd stop training for some kind of safety issue, but we had the time, so I put them to work.
As we worked, I messaged back and forth with Sashi, Ashiri, and Karmazin through my implant. It seemed that the chaos I'd seen here wasn't the exception. Sashi said that Viper Company was in total chaos. Commander Siebert had come through and preemptively relieved their Company Commander, apparently for “gross disrespect” of a superior officer. Karmazin was at regimental headquarters along with Sashi, and they'd both seen cadet officers shuffled around and reassigned, sometimes by Rear Admiral Fischer himself. Everyone was nervous and no one seemed to have any idea what was happening.
In the meantime, my squad actually made good headway, digging out several thick sections of sand that had partially filled a couple areas of the trenches and filling over thirty sandbags. Karmazin passed along a quip that he'd rather be filling sandbags than standing around with nothing to do. Before I could respond, we had our next visitor.
I saw the skimmer coming, so I ordered the squad to assemble, just as it came in for landing. The pilot dropped it almost on top of us, pelting us with grit and small stones, the engines powering down, but not off. The side ramp dropped and short, pudgy figure stepped down off the ramp, followed by a half-dozen officers.
I recognized the stars on Rear Admiral Fischer's collar and snapped, “Squad, atten-hut!”
My squad snapped to attention and I saluted.
Rear Admiral Fischer didn't return the salute, he walked past me and then walked around the position, not even acknowledging my presence. His staff followed him around, some of them walking through my formation, plebes hopping out of their way.
“You're certain this is one of the locations?” He shouted, his voice sounding shrill in his attempt to be heard over the whine of the skimmer's gas turbines.
“Yes, sir!” A Lieutenant Commander answered. “I think...” The turbines drowned out the rest of what he said.
“Oh, for God's sake, shut that thing down,” Rear Admiral Fischer waved a hand. One of his people ran back through my formation and yelled at the pilot. A moment later, the skimmer's turbines dropped pitch and then slowly winded down.
“Now, then,” Rear Admiral Fischer demanded after the noise dropped off. “You said this encrypted signal is coming from this posi
tion?”
“Yes, sir!” the Lieutenant Commander's nametag read Darling. He was stocky and his earnest expression had a harried look. “Look, sir, I'm sure it's just some of the Academy's background equipment or systems...”
“Nonsense!” Rear Admiral Fischer scoffed, “I will not have some hidden equipment snooping on our operations here and broadcasting with encryption that I can't monitor! Find it!”
Lieutenant Commander Darling paced across the site, while my squad and I stood, still formed up. I dropped my salute, because at this point, I figured I looked pretty silly still holding it when I hadn't yet even been acknowledged as being present.
“Sir, I'm not getting any more readings here. Maybe it's shut down or gone,” The stocky officer sounded frustrated.
“Nonsense, just like the ones at the headquarters?” Rear Admiral Fischer sputtered. “No, this is someone playing games with me and I won't have it! I won't, you hear me?! Find the device or I'll have you relieved!” All of his friendly pretense had vanished and his pale face was flushed beet red with a combination of anger and the heat.
My jaw dropped as the superintendent threatened another officer in front of not just his own staff, but cadets and even plebes. That kind of thing wasn't supposed to happen.
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Darling's expression went hard. He tapped at his datapad angrily and then looked around. He seemed to register our presence for the first time. He walked up to me, “Cadet Second Class....” He blinked at me, “Armstrong.” He shot a glance over at Rear Admiral Fischer, who was pacing angrily and didn't seem to notice.
“Sir?” I asked.
Lieutenant Commander Darling seemed to need a moment to collect his thoughts. “Cadet,” I noticed he had avoided using my name, I wondered if it was because he didn't want to attract attention to my presence. “Have you or your squad noticed any equipment that is out of place at this location? Something that might transmit encrypted bursts?”
“There's the monitors, sir,” I noted, gesturing at several of the sensor posts that monitored everything on Academy grounds. Granted, my implant could bypass their encryption fairly easily, but I wasn't about to mention that.