by Kal Spriggs
“Interesting,” Doctor Schoeffelk tapped at his datapad. “Any other occurrences? Think.”
I bit my lip, “Last year. There were some times where... where I don't know that it was Ashiri or one of the others doing things, I think this presence, maybe it wasn't as good at making contact, but I think it was what helped me to find out about Ashiri.” I looked up finally to meet his eyes.
“I see,” Doctor Schoeffelk sat back. “You know, Jiden, I have suspected that your connection with your implant, through your gestalt, is a bit stronger than even Alex's.”
I shrugged in response.
“It's a bit maddening, to be trying to put together the puzzle pieces of what that... thing, did to you all.” He didn't say Doctor Aisling's name. Then again, since Aisling hadn't even really been human, it was unlikely that Aisling had really been her name. “But her data set a, well, let's call it a baseline. Most of the others with the Quicksilver implants are within an order of magnitude of that baseline.”
I wasn't certain that I followed, but I nodded for him to go on.
“You and Karmazin are several orders of magnitude outside that baseline. Your abilities to multitask, to control your implant... you do it like it is an integral part of you, much as anyone else might move their hand. The others, they do it as a conscious action... or like Ashiri Takenata, Morgan Andrews, and Joel Boyles, they do it as a sort of partnership with their gestalts.”
“On the one hand, I believed that with both you and Karmazin, your gestalts had completely integrated. The Quicksilver implants are controlled not through an interface, but through an extension of your minds... but then there's the lack of awareness that you have over what they used your gestalts for while they 'tested' them.”
“What?” I asked in surprise. “I mean, Ashiri said that Doctor Aisling had tortured them...”
“That happened as a side experiment, I believe,” Doctor Schoeffelk nodded, “but Charterer Beckman's Project Quicksilver utilized the imprints of your minds in combination of the interface software to create fully functioning intelligences... and the files I've read suggest they used them for everything from traffic control to military encryption.”
I remembered back to some of the tests, to the overwhelming strength I'd sensed then... was that what I had been feeling? Was that the presence?
“It might be related to what they did, I'm going to have to put in some calls to people who might be able to dig into things...” Doctor Schoeffelk frowned. “But the other possibility is that you are more like Ashiri and the others than I first thought.”
“You think I have a split personality?” I asked, my stomach falling.
“It might be that your gestalt fractured, that your subconscious mind has spun off this other identity within your own mind,” Doctor Schoeffelk pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes in thought. “I can't rule it out, even if the scans of your brain haven't shown any signs of that, so far. This could be something very subtle... for that matter, it could be an element of your subconscious entirely, just a dream fragment. Psychology in this area is still something that we've all got a lot to learn.”
“So I could be crazy,” I took a tense breath, “that's great to hear, doc.”
“Oh, I doubt you're crazy,” he replied. “In fact, you're one of the most remarkably stable people I've ever met... which leads me to my next question. Why haven't you taken advantage of some of the counseling sessions I recommended last time we talked?”
My back went up and I almost started out of the chair at the implication. “I don't need--”
“Jiden,” his voice was soft, “I didn't call you weak or helpless, I merely reminded you that the Academy has a perfectly good set of mental health counselors. They are there to help the school's cadets and staff who have experienced trauma. There's no shame in needing some help, Jiden, and believe me, some preventative assistance now might make things a bit easier for you down the road.”
“I'm fine,” I protested. This time I did rise from the chair, crossing my arms across my chest.
“Jiden, three years ago, someone you considered a friend tried to kill you. Two years ago, a teacher here tried to kill you, and last year you were subjected to an experiment that caused considerable mental trauma to all its subjects.” His voice was gentle, “And only two months ago, you lost your entire family. The question isn't whether you need help, the question is whether you'll get help before you can't function anymore.”
I felt tears well up in my eyes. I ground out, “I don't want to.”
“And I don't want to have spent the past few months getting you to a hundred percent just to see you implode from post traumatic stress disorder. You're remarkably well adjusted, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't at least talk to them.”
“I didn't have a very good experience the last time I talked to a psychologist,” I protested.
“Jiden, one of my several degrees is in psychology, so I'll ignore that comment,” he peered at me. “But I am assuming you mean the hospital psychologist you encountered... three years ago?”
I looked away, “Yeah.”
“I read her write up. She said she worried you had signs of clinical disassociation and possible sociopathic tendencies,” Doctor Schoeffelk said it off hand, as if he'd mentioned he liked to take caffeine pills in the morning rather than drinking tea. “Frankly, I think the woman is an idiot. You'd just killed several men who had kidnapped you and most probably planned to kill you. While some people might have some kind of levels of guilt about that, I won't fault you for not being torn up over it. Besides, I've personally seen your compassion towards your friends and family. I've seen your brain, Jiden, you're no more a sociopath than I am.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
“Don't judge the whole field based upon the opinions of one woman. Both counselors here on campus come from good backgrounds in the field and they have plenty of experience in walking people through trauma, especially of the kind you’ve suffered. Please, see them, at least try talking to them. Otherwise, I’m worried that you’ll end up pushing yourself too hard.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said. I didn’t want argue, but I wasn’t exactly happy about the idea. I just wish I had more time. It was something of a lame excuse, but it was still true, I barely had time to sleep, between classes, homework, my regimental position, and drills. Sundays had once been days for me to catch up on sleep and finish off homework, now I spent six or eight hours in a simulator after chapel services and normally spent the rest of the night trying to get caught up in homework.
How was I supposed to fit in a couple extra hours to do something I really didn’t want to do?
***
I was more than a little distracted as I walked back to the barracks. I had plenty of homework to do, I had operations and contingency plans to review, and I had my midterm flight simulation exam scheduled tonight with Commander Siebert. I should have been thinking about those, but instead I was thinking about whether Doctor Schoeffelk was right. Was I pushing myself too hard?
It was the soft sound of quiet sobbing that penetrated my mind. I froze, only a few steps away from the door to the room I shared with Sashi Drien. I was right outside of Ashiri Takenata’s room, I realized, the one she shared with Donovan. Her door was closed. She almost never kept it closed, not unless she was gone.
I moved over and rapped on the door. The sobbing cut off and I heard Ashiri clear her throat, “Come in.”
My hand trembled a bit as I opened the door. I didn’t know what was wrong, I didn’t know if I could help, but I was afraid.
Ashiri sat at her desk, her eyes red-rimmed. She wiped at her nose and tried to smile, but her lips quivered, “Hey, Jiden. I thought you would be studying.” I could see that her roommate wasn’t around.
“I had my physical exam with Doctor Schoeffelk,” I replied, stepping into her room and closing the door firmly behind me. “Now, what’s wrong?”
Ashiri looked down, her brown eyes
welling up. “It’s... I’m sorry, I was hoping that I would be finished before you got back.”
“Finished?” I looked around in confusion. I saw that Ashiri’s wall locker was open and empty. Her gear was packed, her uniforms in a carry bag. “What’s going on?”
Ashiri crossed her arms, still not looking up. “I talked with my course counselor today. I’m... I’m failing three of my classes. Two of them, I think I can pass, but the third one... Commander Siebert’s class, I’m just too far behind.”
“What?” I demanded, “Ash, why didn’t you say something? We’re friends, you can study with me, and we can get you back on track--”
“No, Jiden, we can’t,” Ashiri looked up, “believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve got the make-up classes and the additional honor violation assignments from last year, plus the full load this year. It’s too much. And I spent over thirty hours in Commander Siebert’s simulators last week. I can’t do everything, Jiden. I tried, but it just means I was failing all around. I’m taking a setback.”
“You’re what?!” I stumbled back, leaning against the door so I wouldn’t fall. My knees felt weak and I felt more than a little dizzy. “But Ash, that means...”
“I’ll graduate a year late. I know. I’ll be back next year,” Ashiri gave me a nod. “It’s okay. I’ll take a bunch of these assignments home with me. I’ll finish them there, get some time to get my focus back.”
I stared at her, “Is there anything I can do...”
“No,” Ashiri shook her head, her black hair tossing back and forth. She rose to her feet, “Look, Jiden, I wasn’t going to tell anyone, I thought it would be easier if I just cleared out.” I didn’t ask if she meant easier for herself or for everyone else. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone, not until after I leave.”
“But... no,” I sagged down, back to the door, curling up into a ball. This was too much. “Why? Why are you giving up?”
“I’m not giving up, I’m taking a knee for a minute to get myself in order,” Ashiri protested. She came over and reached out her hands, pulling me up to my feet. She glared at me, “This is the smart thing to do. Career-wise, I’m showing that I know there’s an issue and I’m dealing with it, so they won’t hold this against me. Not like if I actually tried to finish out the semester with a bunch of failures. I’ll be back next year, better than ever.”
I tried to tell myself that she was right, but I couldn’t help a horrible feeling that I’d never see her again. On impulse, I leaned forward and hugged her. “Dangit, Ashiri, you better be back here next year.”
“Yeah, well you had better be the Regimental Commander or something,” she grumbled at me, hugging me back. “And keep your assistant position open for me, too.”
I laughed at that, “I see how it is, you just wanted to get in a position so you had friends in high places.”
“If I wanted friends in high places, I’d have gone to Karmazin, not you, shorty,” Ashiri laughed back. She gave me a final squeeze and then stepped back. “I’ll be fine, Biohazard.” Her expression went serious, “Are you going to be okay?”
I stared at her, not really sure. I forced myself to meet her eyes, knowing that she was struggling with this far more than she’d let on. She’d been crying. She needed assurance, and here I’d been like a dead weight. “Yeah,” I met my best friend’s eyes and lied to her face, “I’ll be fine.”
***
Chapter 9: Probably Not The Best Decision On My Part
I wasn’t in the best mood as I showed up for Commander Siebert’s midterm flight exam. My uncertainty over Ashiri’s departure continued to gnaw at me. Stepping into the simulator room, that uncertainty reached a peak as I saw that the layout had changed rather drastically.
Normally it was laid out with four rows of five simulators and a few big displays on the front wall for instructors to monitor things. Commander Siebert had changed things, though. Now there was a row of seats in the back, with room for the whole section. There was also only one simulator, square in the middle of the floor, with several displays on the far wall showing the pilot’s screens. Behind the simulator was a large holographic projector that showed a battleship and two destroyers.
I recognized the scenario, Battleship Over Terrapin. It was one of the approved tactical scenarios, one of the ones I’d trained with even as a Plebe. It was one of the hardest ones, too. Against computer opponents, normally I could win it two times out of three. Against human opponents, I had a fifty-fifty chance of winning.
I wasn’t the only cadet here, either. About half the section had arrived and most of the rest filed in behind me as I stepped into the room. What is going on?
Commander Siebert stepped into the room.
“Class, Atten-hut!” someone called and we all snapped to attention.
“At ease, cadets,” Commander Siebert’s gaunt face split in something like a grimace, probably meant as a smile. Her cold eyes swept across us and I couldn’t help but shiver a bit at as that gaze swept over me.
“Tonight we are doing your final exam. I understand that Commander Pannja preferred to have you come in separately for your exams, but I’d rather you all had the opportunity to learn from one another.” She said that with heavy emphasis, but after dealing with her for two and a half months, I knew that she meant she wanted us to watch one another fail.
I felt a spike of rage slam through me. Ashiri had admitted that Commander Siebert’s long course hours had been part of why she’d chosen to take a setback. The officer clearly enjoyed the fact that she had pushed us all so hard, and now she was going to add public humiliation to the mix. Even worse, we’d have to sit here all night watching each other try and fail, then go to our classes in the morning. I hated this woman, hated her so much that I could barely breathe, barely focus enough to hear her words.
“Take your seats, ladies and gentlemen,” Commander Siebert went on, her voice as cold and dead as normal. “I’ve sent you all the order of precedence. As Cadet Second Class Hodges is doing the best in the section, he’ll be up first. Just remember, do things as I’ve instructed and you’ll do just fine.”
We moved to our assigned seats. Hodges was first, Thorpe was just behind him, and then there was me. I wasn’t sure how I was in third place in the class. Maybe she’d just lumped everyone in after those two. Both of them had adopted her tactics and there was no question in my mind that the two of them would gleefully sacrifice the digital lives under their commands in the simulation to get their passing grades.
The question that I faced, was if I would do that, too.
I’d done as instructed twice more over the past few weeks, and both times I’d come away feeling sick to my stomach and covered in sweat. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. An officer might be called upon to sacrifice their people, but they shouldn’t plan for it, they shouldn’t be desensitized to it. If there was another way, a way to accomplish the mission without serious losses, that should be the way it was done.
“Cadet Second Class Hodges, you’re up,” Commander Siebert gestured. The setback rose from his chair, throwing the rest of us a confident smirk as he swaggered over to the simulator and took a seat. “As in your flight training, you will be graded on overall performance, based upon kills of enemy ships and how many of your own vessels remain at the end of the scenario. A passing grade requires that you destroy the Battleship and its two escorting destroyers before the reach orbit over Terrapin.”
Kyle raised a hand, “Ma’am?”
“Yes, Cadet Second Class Regan?” Siebert asked, her voice crisp and detached.
“Are we required to have any surviving fighters?”
“No, although that will leave you with a seventy percent, barely passing,” she replied. “I’ll remind you all that this midterm represents forty percent of your grade, so if you’ve been struggling with making your ten passing hours in the simulator every week, then your overall grade may be quite low, if you do poorly on this exam.”
&n
bsp; Her lips quivered slightly, almost as if she were trying not to laugh at our expressions. Having seen her smile, I didn’t want to hear her laugh. “Don’t worry, however. If you fail the initial attempt, you’ll be allowed to retake it tomorrow night. I’d encourage all of you to attend in order to provide a boost of morale for those of your classmates who will need to retake the exam.”
Tomorrow was Friday. She’d as much as told us that we wouldn’t get any sleep tonight or tomorrow night, right before drill the next morning. It was such a petty, mean little detail that I gritted my teeth until they creaked, raw anger boiling inside of me.
“You may begin, Cadet Hughes,” Commander Siebert said, stepping off to the side to observe.
Huges was from Viper Company. He’d had a run-in with Kyle last year during the Plebe’s time at the Grinder, and after some questions had been raised about exactly why some of his plebes had fired on some of Kyle’s Cadet Instructors, he’d taken a setback to avoid a full investigation. I didn’t much like him and he seemed to be Commander Siebert’s favorite student.
The scenario played out pretty much as I’d expected. Hughes might be an arrogant jerk, but he knew how to handle his warp fighters and he understood Commander Siebert’s Krendel technique. We watched the holoprojector as he whipped his three fighter squadrons through several maneuvers, lining up attack runs on the three ships they faced. The three ships came in at Terrapin, clustered together to provide overlapping fire. Hughes plotted the courses carefully and lined up the attack runs so that one of the three squadrons was just enough ahead of the other two that the enemy could focus fire there... while the other two altered course at the last second. I noticed the three ships all used a standard ripple-fire defense, designed to cover multiple sectors as quickly as possible. It wasn’t the most accurate method of fire, but against a massed fighter strike, it was fairly useful.