"Yes," Alice said. "It's on its way." That was a risk, sharing any information about the Merciless or the Fleet was. Watching Peter stare at the Hull Buster, she realized that he found the sight of it encouraging, there was a plan forming in his head.
"You promise to get me a position in your fleet so I can watch my people?" he asked.
"I will do everything I can, and you know what that's worth," Alice said.
"You'll get nine more of these to me today?"
"Absolutely," Alice said, tapping a message into her comm unit to Knud and Faloo, so would get their fabricator working on it right away.
Peter handed the Hull Buster back to Sonny, who slipped it back into its case immediately and slung it over his shoulder. "Then I'll tell my people to start smuggling civilians off world, as you suggested before. I'll tell them they can trust your people. You must come out on stage with me, though. I want them to see your face."
Thirteen
The Shift
* * *
Noah Lucas didn't realize the advantages he gave up by going to sleep for seven hours in his new bunk aboard the Triton. The block of racks he settled into were populated by several of his fellow third watchers, all pilots who were serving the last patrol shift before morning. The greetings were very brief, everyone wanted to get into their racks and rest before training started.
It was difficult. Even with the privacy shutters to his bunk closed, in the relative silence within, the excitement of being aboard the Triton, hearing that Commodore Terry Ozark McPatrick was keeping his command and would be overseeing the training aboard, was too energizing to drift off to. After trying for nearly twenty minutes, he gave up, and let his command and control unit medicate him to sleep.
He woke to an alert alarm that ordered all pilots to muster. He was suited up and following directions with his fellow third watchers, including Pixie who, like Alice, was much shorter than him but difficult to keep up with. She was impossible to miss, with long pink and black hair that was tied up in a row of tails that trailed behind her. On the shoulder of her suit was her fleet mark, the upper half of a silver skull with the name of her ship EXCALIBUR along the bottom in place of teeth. Down her sleeve were five stars, a tradition that Samurai Squadron eschewed, but it marked her as an ace five times over with five verified kills per star. He knew each of those kills fought back, it was one of the new rules about earning an ace star. At last count, he had three.
The main halls and high-speed lifts that took them up through the innards of the Triton were broader, more ornate than anything aboard the Merciless. The deck was black with a mirror polish, the older main corridor they took for half their run was gold, brown and more black on the ceilings and walls. There wasn't much distance to travel to their muster point, and as soon as they emerged into one of the upper hangars, he realized it was a drill. The group who spent the morning sleeping, his group, were the last to fall in and the only ones that seemed out of breath. He was amazed at the size of the class, which included Hal, whose call sign just changed from 'Hot Chow' to 'Traveller,' was among the group of forty-five pilots. "Dammit! I knew I shouldn't have tried to sleep for the full seven hours!" Pixie cursed under her breath.
The hangar had three pristine Clever Class Corvettes lined up and all their fighters were loaded into racks along the bulkheads. A Commander he didn't recognize stood in front of the long line of pilots who were at attention, watching coolly as he and the rest of the third watch fell in line. No one had their helmet up, so Carnie didn't bother with his, only rapidly binding his shoulder length blonde hair up into a tight ponytail.
"Nice of you to join us, Third Watchers!" barked the Commander. "I have to say, three minutes and five seconds from bunk to this muster point isn't bad. You'll do better, though, that'll be your responsibility, Pixie," he said, nodding at her.
"Aye, Commander. I'll have it down to one by the end of the week, Commander!" she shouted back, her voice projected across the hangar, startling a pair of workers who were rolling the last of the fighters into a rack spot fifty meters away. Her voice didn't have much of a high pitch, she projected from her middle, like the Officer's manual suggested.
"Good," the Commander said. "No need to shake the heavens, everyone's listening, Second Lieutenant. So, since we're breaking you up into groups of fifteen, and you're the last group to make it here, we're calling you the Third Watch. Each group is a wing, who leads it is up to me or the Commodore, and as you already seem to be a standout, you, Pizenia Zannen, will be the first Cadet Commander of your group." He touched her shoulder and three small Haven Fleet flags appeared there with a line under them. "I'll shut my trap so the Commodore can tell you more about what this training regimen will be like." He stepped back and barked; "Commodore on deck!"
Everyone snapped to more stiffly than they were standing as the transit car behind them lowered and opened. Commodore McPatrick, or Oz as Minh-Chu called him, strode out. He was in a good mood, walked with a long, easy gait until he stopped in front of them and saluted. "At ease. This is going to be a busy day, so I'll keep my introduction brief. You've all be tested and assigned a rank according to how well you did on your ships. You earned your positions, but you didn't properly earn your ranks. While your Wing Commanders determined that you should have the rank you were assigned, the Fleet has seen problems in how well you follow regulations and approach your jobs in general. Fleet's mission with you, this first group of forty-five, is to verify your skills as pilots, work with you to learn the regulations required to execute your duties properly, and to learn from you. Every one of you has one or more Ace's star. That means you have killed at least five of our enemies while braving the hazards of combat. It also means your enemies could fire back at you. Today, there are Aces who are waking up to find that they have had their stars pulled. It's that last requirement: your enemy must be able to fire back at you for the kill to count towards Ace status." The Commodore looked across the group silently for a long moment.
"Sir, I lost three stars, Sir," one pilot reported.
"Leaving you with two," The Commodore replied. He looked to Hal and smiled. "How many did you lose?"
"None, Sir," Hal replied. "Went to bed with five, woke up with five."
Pixie leaned forward and looked down the line at him, trying not to make it obvious.
"Pixie! How many did you lose?" the Commodore asked, turning towards her with a jerk.
"Five," she replied. "Leaving me with five, Sir."
"That second set of five stars didn't matter as much as the first. They were rewarded for cleanup duty, killing Edxi fighters that were disabled, inert. They couldn't fire back."
"I understand, Sir," Pixie replied.
"I'm sure you all understand, at least on the surface. Now that you know how to kill, have demonstrated that you won't hesitate if given the order to do so, it's time for you to learn a more important lesson; how to help your fellow pilots survive out there. You will learn how to lead them or you will be pushed off the officer track. We've pulled a section of the Apex Program out for you and made modifications to it so you have to complete it under extreme stress. I wish this was a happy morning meet and greet, but that wouldn't be appropriate. This program is high risk, there is a chance of mortality because you will be maintaining a real patrol schedule while you learn to be officers in this Fleet. If you were in the full-length Apex Program I'd play with your head a little and tell you that this isn't a competitive program, but this version of the Program doesn't include that kind of head game. This is a competitive program. You will be compared to your fellow Officer Trainees, and at the same time you must help each other succeed. How you assist your fellow Officers will factor into how successful you are. We have three weeks to turn you into real Officers who can teach and lead members of your squadrons, act independently as commander of your own ship, and lead your people through the worst situations you can imagine as well as help them cope with the 'hurry up and wait' lifestyle that comes with this job a
t times. Now I'm leaving you in the hands of Commander Mars. Good luck, keep your head on a swivel." Commodore McPatrick turned and strode back to the transit car doors.
"That was the good news," Commander Mars said. "Now for the bad news. We're starting this three-week adventure with something the Apex Program calls; 'Suit Week.'"
All their vacsuit hoods deployed, rising up from their collars to envelop their heads in a fitted hood with a transparent faceplate. It didn't bother Carnie, he'd seen the inside of worse suits. "Carnie, Dullard, Gamer and Pixie: your hair is too long, so that's gotta go," Mars said.
Before any of the pilots could object, not that they would dare, the cleaning system in their suits activated. He clenched his teeth and held still as a buzzing against his scalp told him that he was getting a serious trim from over twenty centimetres long to less than one. He did his best to pretend it wasn't a big deal, but he hadn't had hair that short since he was a toddler. The waste system sucked the hair down into the recycling and management system in the back as it was cut away. "How are you doing in there?" the Commander asked, lightly tapping on Pixie's faceplate.
She opened her eyes and glared for a second before calming down. "Peachy, Sir."
"Oh, she does not like her new cut." He moved down the line to Noah.
"I'm peachy, Sir," he said with a shrug before he was asked.
"Carnie: we don't shrug in this Fleet unless we're off duty and our girl or guy is late for dinner and they're asking; 'are you okay, dear?' I didn't think we were in a relationship, are you under the impression that we are?"
"Sir, no, Sir," Carnie replied officially.
"So, no shrugging. More importantly, I didn't ask you a question. What if I was asking her how she liked her cut, but I wanted to ask you how the plumbing was fitted in your suit? What if you had a problem with the plumbing? Maybe it is too small, and I miss it because of this miscommunication? Why, you could end up with quite a mess down there because you're not a complainer, are you, Carnie?"
"Sir, I am not a complainer, Sir!" Carnie replied, trying not to crack a smile.
"So, you communicate properly and make sure you tell a senior officer if you have a plumbing problem, Carnie," Commander Mars concluded over their proximity radio so everyone could hear.
Noah knew the Commander was having a laugh, but more importantly, he was trying to get him to crack up. He wouldn't give in, and when a few of the other pilots in line started to snicker, he bit the tip of his tongue hard, unwilling to laugh in the Commander's face. "Sir, I understand, Sir."
Commander Mars stared at him through his faceplate for a long moment before nodding and stepping back. "I think he does, but just to make sure, you're all going to study the regulations on conduct in our Fleet and you will take the Officer Qualification test on it in ten hours. Do not dally, this is a huge topic and it is important. Oh, and all three teams: First Watch, Second Watch, and Third Watch will have three hours of patrol to conduct, starting with First Watch, who will be launching in twenty-one minutes. This is not Apex, it is harder because your commanders already think you're fit to be Officers. I am here to test that theory and make sure you get through all the qualifiers required to make whatever rank you should actually have. If you make it through the Commodore's course, we will know for certain that you are ready, and you will have the confidence and knowledge you need to be in command. If you do not make it, we will send you to the War Forge, where you will have the honour - and I do not mean that sarcastically - of training and serving as an enlisted member of our Fleet. I won't waste your time going over curriculum, you can do that on your own. Start studying and taking Qualifiers whenever you are not on patrol. Time will run out before you know it, three weeks is not a long time. Dismissed." As Commander Mars walked past Noah on his way to the transit car doors, he pulled his silk scarf off. "You get this back at the end of training," he said as he bunched the thing up and pushed it into his pocket.
Noah fought the urge to grab it back, and barely had a moment to think before Pixie was right beside him, poking his elbow. "You date Alice Valent, right?" she said, her voice low, much higher pitched than he expected considering the near baritone she managed when she was bellowing earlier.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Good, we need to get Third Watch together to study for this Conduct Qualifier Test. I'll pay part of the comm credit cost if you can get her online to help us."
"I don't think she'll be available, she's pretty busy out there," Noah replied. He didn't want to use Alice as a tutor, especially since he had suspected that she was way behind enemy lines.
"Oh, I guess she's busy being a Captain and everything. Ever take it?"
"I skipped every Qual I could," Noah shrugged.
A hand popped him on the shoulder from the other side. It was Hal; "No shrugging," he chided.
"Dammit, this is going to be rough, I bet none of us have taken this, why the hell would we?" Pixie asked, shaking her head.
"Well, First Watch is getting ready for their first patrol," Hal said. "They gave me command of Second Watch because of my history, so maybe we can all get together in the squad room and push through."
"What? Are you going to read it to us?" Pixie said.
Hal brought up his command and control unit, checked something, then shook his head. "Nothing here says this is something we have to do on our own, or that it's closed file. So, we open the section on conduct, everyone starts the Qual, and we get his thing done while we're learning it."
Noah couldn't help but grin as nearly thirty of them started looking at the requirements for successfully completing the Officer Conduct Qualifier on their comm units or the HUD in their helms and after a few moments there were a few chuckles and smiles. "Yeah, Hal's always right when it comes to research and rules," Noah said. He didn't bother looking it up. "This Qual isn't just about learning Conduct, it's about how we solve a problem."
"Okay, but what are we missing by doing the Qual together, open book? It's gotta be some kinda trick," Pixie said, her expression sour.
"Sure it is," Hal said. "If we score one hundred percent on the Qual, then that's great, we pass, but you're right, it is kind of a trap. If we just pick through the book looking for answers we might miss something about conduct that could bite us in the ass later. Just because we can game the test doesn’t mean that we don't have to read the whole thing."
"So, we do our Qual open book, get our perfect score, then we drill the hell out of the Conduct rules before and after our patrols so we don't get docked for violations for the next three weeks. That's still too easy," Pixie said before looking to Hal. "You're awesome, Traveller. Keep this up and you might get a midnight invitation."
"Red light!" Carnie laughed.
"Wow, right, inappropriate," Pixie snickered.
Hal cleared his throat as he turned away, but not before Noah noticed him blushing furiously, an uncomfortable grin on his face. "Let's get started, we could knock this out in half an hour and practice some inappropriate, er, appropriate conduct."
Fourteen
Crowded
* * *
There were many levels to Peter, and the more time Alice had to listen to the stream of emotions radiating from him, the more she realized how complex he was below the surface. Like so many of the more interesting people she'd known, like Jake, Ayan, Noah, and most of her crew, they mostly seemed to let themselves be guided by surface emotions from moment to moment. There was something deeper in all of them, but it took time to see that, and it felt like she was seeing something private when an emotional response that came from their core came to the surface.
Some of them even had something she was starting to call 'Modes.' Even though she hadn't been an empath for long, she was starting to recognize that some people, like her father, had corners of their personality that worked like lenses and filters, changing some responses, blocking others entirely. Jake had his 'Command Mode' where he leaned into the role of being an official, a representative of
the fleet, and an important ranking member. His role was so important to him that in that mode, he was almost a different person. Alice liked seeing that side of him, it was sturdy, comforting, he was a foundation you could trust under your feet when everything else was getting unstable.
Until that moment, when Alice waited with Peter for the curtain to open, she hadn't seen such a shift in someone that compared. As the resistance leader put a hood and scarf on to cover most of his scars, he was changing modes like her father did when something serious, something important was coming up. Only what Alice felt from Peter was unnerving.
There was pride, a feeling that he had great power, and overwhelming confidence that was so pure that it didn't seem sane. The curtains parted and Peter strode out onto the middle of the stage. As he did so, she could sense that he felt an ownership over the hundreds of people there. Alice hesitated for a moment, then moved onto the stage and stopped a few steps behind him to his left.
Seeing their leader reassured them, but she could still feel their desperation like a wave crashing against her mind. Some of the mad zeal that she picked up from Peter sometimes was coming from that crowd too, rising at the sight of him. All but the desperation spiked when he spoke.
"We face the darkest of times, but I've found a new ally, one who most of you have seen." He turned to Alice and she stepped up beside him.
Hope. A surge of bright hope mixed with excitement came from the crowd so intense she winced. It was so powerful that she almost missed something from Peter. It was sinister, something she'd never felt in anyone before. If she could shut the audience out and listen to him, that would have been ideal, but she did her best to block everything out, and only managed to turn it all down to a dull roar.
"Captain Alice Valent of Haven Fleet has joined us, and she brings the full support of her people with her!" Peter announced to frenzied applause.
Spinward Fringe Broadcast 13 Page 12