“No, sir!” Katie replied.
"You brought the eye and ear protection that was issued to you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Don it."
Yes, sir," Katie answered before doing as directed.
“You have no reservations about your ability to safely and proficiency handle this weapon on this firing range?”
“No, sir! No reservations.”
“Very well,” the Coach said, handing her the rifle. It was a standard twenty-two bore bolt action target rifle as used by shooting ranges, marine and otherwise, throughout the Solar System. Katie had spent long hours when on Ceres practicing with an identical weapon. Sam had been a stickler for safety too.
Katie stepped away from the rest of the cadets and took the rifle. Katie was careful to keep it pointed both down range and away from the other cadets and the Coach. She held it firmly with her trigger finger along the side of the rifle, and most definitely not on the trigger. Katie checked the safety was on and then ejected the magazine before checking it was empty. Careful where the barrel was pointed at all times, she raised it until it pointed at the sky. Katie pulled back the bolt and peered up the barrel, making sure there wasn’t a round up the spout and the weapon was truly unloaded.
That done, she returned the weapon to a rest position and looked to the Coach for further direction.
“You will observe that Cadet Kincaid was careful where the weapon was pointed at all times, and did not assume it was safe and unloaded,” the Coach announced to the entire group. “This is the minimum standard required of all of you at all times.”
“I know you have had weapons issued to you for drill purposes,” the Coach said. “As you are doubtless well aware, they do not have breech blocks and are not operable. You will be given breech blocks and blank ammunition for your Spring preparation for BOTC, but even then those weapons will not be as dangerous as these target weapons.”
The Coach looked around at the cadets, making sure each individual was paying attention. “A twenty-two does not have the penetration, nor does it do the damage of a higher caliber weapon, all the same it can severely injure or even kill an individual. Understood?”
Another chorus of affirmation. By now, if they hadn’t already learned it, they knew the military way was to repeat something until it lodged securely in the brains of students. The military mightn’t teach the most complicated topics, and it might simplify or omit parts of what it did teach, but there were no gentleman “C’s”. The military expected one hundred percent retention. They told you what they were going to tell you. Then they told it to you clearly and loudly. To finish up, they told you what they’d told you.
At that point, if you didn’t remember what they’d told you, they figured you had no excuse.
His lecture complete, the Coach directed Katie to assume the prone position at one of the firing stations. After she’d done so assuming the position in the manner her friend Sam had taught her, the Coach walked a slow semi-circle behind her. At one point he nudged her sprawled out left leg slightly with his toe.
That done, he turned and proceeded to give a lecture on the position.
Having finished his lecture, he crouched down beside her. Passing her a narrow magazine full of ammunition, he spoke in a quiet, amused tone. “I’d hoped you’d make some mistakes I could correct for the benefit of your teammates.”
The big moment finally came.
“Cadet Kincaid, on my word you are to fire a single round down range at the middle of the target immediately in front of you. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Very good. You may fire.”
The rifle only had open iron sights, and Katie hadn’t had a chance to check them. Still, she was going to give this her best try. Katie took a breath and slowly letting it out with the bullseye in the middle of sight picture, the dot right on it, she squeezed the rifle’s trigger. BANG!
Even with ear protection, even firing only a twenty two a gunshot was loud.
The Coach pulled out a set of binoculars and gazed down range. “Hmm,” he commented before kneeling to hand them to Katie.
Carefully putting her weapon down facing down range, Katie took them.
Katie had hit the bullseye dead center. Sights must have been properly zeroed in. Good.
She handed the binoculars back to the Coach. He stood.
“A very good shoot,” he announced to the rest of the cadets. “Let’s see if you can repeat that. Assume firing position, load a round, and wait for my word.”
Katie did and once again fired on his word. Once again, he inspected the target with the binoculars. He frowned. He kneeled down beside her and, handing her the binoculars, spoke. “You seem to have missed the target completely this time, Cadet Kincaid,” he said.
Katie looked down range at the target. “I don’t think so, sir. I think I put this round exactly where I did last time. Right through the same hole.”
The Coach looked less than pleased with this assertion. Stony faced, he replied, “Very well, then make another hole to the right and touching the current one.”
The Coach stood, and they repeated the firing routine again, Katie aiming just a little to the right. Katie was worried. She was good, but she also knew she’d been lucky. The slightest thing could put a shot a bit off, even a little breeze would do it.
This time the Coach didn’t look anywhere as near as grim. It was difficult to tell. He seemed determined not to give anything away, but she had the feeling he was pleased, and maybe a little surprised.
This time, looking at the target, she saw a second hole to the right of the first, just kissing it. Also to her disappointment a fraction higher. “It’s a hair higher I’m afraid, sir” she said.
“If you can do that consistently in competition, I’ll be happy, Cadet Kincaid,” he replied. He handed his binoculars to the other cadets. Passing it around, they made quiet noises of appreciation. Katie was embarrassed at how happy that made her.
Shortly her moment in the sun was done though, and she got to watch each of the other cadets demonstrate what they could do.
They were all good. Most of them hit some part of the bullseye with most of their shots. None of them were as good as Katie. Ha.
On the way back, Susan walked beside her. “You’re a good shot,” she said. “Can you ski?”
“I can learn,” Katie answered.
“I’ll help you,” Susan announced.
Katie thought that was forward, but she needed all the help she could get.
“Great,” she said.
“You should know, Kincaid,” Susan said. “Biathlon is a lot of fun and you’re going to be good at it, I can see, but it’s not a high profile sport, and it’s going to use up a lot of your time. You need to plan around that.”
Katie wasn’t entirely sure what the other cadet meant. She had figured out reputation and time management were important, just not how, and how you controlled them.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
* * *
Henry was troubled.
Couple of weeks into the first semester, and he and Wolf were having their final mentoring session with their first year cadet charges, Katie Kincaid, and Colleen McGinnis.
Looking around the girl’s room, spic and span, everything proper military style, and in its right place, Henry felt a certain impressed pride.
They’d gone from raw civvies to proper soldiers in the span of just a few short weeks. It was a minor miracle repeated every year. Still a minor miracle for all that.
Wolf was having a quiet conversation with Colleen. She remained on the diffident side for an Academy cadet. Not as self-confident as the Academy liked to teach its members to be, but she was coming along fine and neither Henry nor Wolf had any worries for her.
Katie Kincaid on the other hand, she was a different sort of fish.
Katie Kincaid was a square peg in a round hole.
Henry was an idealist. Pragmatic about
methods, but idealistic when it came to goals. Second year wasn’t as rough as first year, but no cadet ever had enough time to do everything they’d ideally like to. Henry and Wolf had shown the girls everything they needed to know about keeping their room in good order and maintaining proper military deportment personally. The second year cadets could have counted their job done and nobody would have blamed them. They had their own tasks to attend to.
Henry wanted to do more than that.
Henry wanted to give Katie a good start. He wanted to give her the advice she needed if she was to succeed at the Academy. He wasn’t sure that was possible.
The session had started off well. Katie had been beside herself with happiness at having qualified for the biathlon team. Katie had been a touch concerned with the demanding schedule it’d mean.
Henry was looking at that schedule right now.
It was crazy.
For senior cadets, and first year cadets that had no other priorities, it might be doable. For a first year cadet who was going to have to play catch up in a variety of areas, it was a disaster. And that was before taking social issues into consideration.
Henry looked up from the hardcopy schedule and at Katie, who was sitting at her desk. “This is a very demanding schedule,” he said. “You’re going to be spending almost all your spare time, and a lot of time you ought to be studying, on the road to get to events all around the country.”
“We’ll be competing at the national level right away,” Katie replied. “The Coach says if we do well we could end up making it to the continental, even the world, championships. So a lot of the events aren’t close by. The sport is still more popular in Europe than here in North America.”
Henry didn’t groan. He felt proud of that. Except for Susan Fritzsen, none of her teammates were going to be fellow first year cadets. Also her education had been two years shorter and not the same as the rest of the cadets. Henry didn’t care how good a memory you had, or how sharp you were, you couldn’t know things you’d never been exposed to.
Also the biathlon would preclude further exposure to other sports, meaning that when the biathlon season was over Katie would be participating in those sports without having improved from her current inadequate level. It wouldn’t impress her peers who’d she’d be practically speaking still a stranger to.
How to say all that diplomatically?
“The Academy places a heavy emphasis on being well rounded and working well with one’s peers,” Henry said.
Katie frowned. “I don’t want to just scrape by at things I’m not good at,” she said. “Who’s that going to impress?”
Henry tapped the hardcopy schedule with a finger. “This is going to cut into your already limited study time,” he said. “It also means that the only time you’ll be seeing your fellow cadets is in classes. Means you won’t get to know them hardly at all. A lot of them already know each other from having gone to the same schools and because their families share the same social circle.”
“I’ve got an extremely good memory,” Katie said. “I’m good at academics.”
“You’ve got two years less schooling than your peers, and in a different system,” Henry replied. “I’m quite sure there’s plenty you know that the average cadet here doesn’t, but it doesn’t matter. What you’re going to be tested on, what your instructors and peers are going to evaluate you on, is the body of knowledge they already share.”
“I’m really good at studying,” Katie replied. “I’m not bragging, it’s a fact.”
“You’ve got a lot of catch up to do, and not much time,” Henry insisted. “You’re going to be tired a lot of the time. Come Christmas, you’re going to wonder what happened. It’s a dirty little secret that the Academy is not a great place to excel at academics. It’s just not given a high enough priority. Sports, military exercises, and socializing with your peers all take higher priority than excelling academically. Most cadets coast on what they’ve already learned. That’s not going to work for you.”
Katie managed to look both puzzled and stubborn. “Socializing?” she asked. “I don’t plan to go into politics.”
“Bad news, Cadet Katie Kincaid,” Henry said with mock formality. “You are in politics. As a cadet and junior officer, it mostly consists of keeping quiet and asking how high to jump when given a task. Maybe keeping an eye out for small ways to look better than your competition. But when you reach the middle ranks, promotion and even just getting your job done starts getting very political in the Space Force. If you don’t know the right people and how to influence them, everything you try to do will die in the bureaucratic swamp.”
“What?”
“That’s a fact almost every other cadet here knows,” Henry said. “Bet Colleen here, who’s a famous wallflower, knows it.”
Colleen and Wolf had been watching Henry and Katie talk without saying anything. Colleen at first looked alarmed at being drawn into the conversation. The surprise on her face turned to a glum expression. When Katie turned her way, Colleen gave her a little nod of affirmation.
Wolf looking on gave a slight shrug. Just one of those unedifying little facts of life everyone knew, but didn’t like to talk about, he seemed to be saying.
“So I have to consider appearances,” Katie plowed on. “Won’t helping an Academy team win in national competitions look good? Again, not to brag, but I’m that good at this. Not so good at swimming, or obscure Earth history, or playing basketball or baseball, but at running, navigating, and shooting I’m outstanding.”
“Problem is,” Henry said, “not whether it looks good or bad, but that it means you’ll be constantly gone for your first six months here. Your fellow cadets won’t get a chance to know you one way or the other. Come Christmas you don’t just have exams, you’re also subject to evaluation. It includes a peer evaluation that gets a high weighting. You and all the other cadets in your year and squadron have to rank each other.”
“And they’re not going to be fair?”
“I imagine most of us try,” Henry said, “but who are you going to rank higher a friend or someone else you know, or someone you don’t know at all? Somebody’s feelings are going to get hurt. Whose are you going to worry about the most?”
“It’s not confidential?”
“Theoretically, but in reality it doesn’t take long to figure out who ranked who how. Can’t prove anything, but everybody gets a pretty good idea.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow,” Henry agreed. He didn’t like it either, but he owed it to the girl to be honest with her.
“That stinks.”
“It does, and no one likes it, but that’s the Space Force,” Henry said. “It’s a small incestuous family where everybody knows everybody else. You live in a fishbowl, and you’re constantly jostling for position. At least if you’re ambitious and planning to stay in.”
“And I’m an outsider.”
“You are.”
“Ouch.”
“Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t join the biathlon team,” Henry said, “but look at your options. If you can do okay at cross country or even manage to learn to play basketball acceptably, those might be better choices. It’s going to be hard no matter what. All you can do is your best and hope it works out.”
“Do I have any chance at all?” Katie asked.
“Yep,” Henry said, hoping he was being honest. “We’re not bad people and some of us are actively cheering for you. Like you said, there are things you excel at. You’re a fast learner. You’re hard working and smart. The Academy wants you to succeed, even if it’s not sure how to help you do that.”
“Okay, I’ll think about what you’ve said,” Katie replied. “I do think it’s best to aim high, to play offense rather than defense.”
“That’s all I can ask,” Henry said. “Remember, there are times for offense and times when a defense is necessary.”
“I will,” Katie promised.
“Good,” Henry said. He’d
done what he could.
* * *
The day after Second Year Cadet Vane’s revelations, Katie got another surprise. There was mail waiting for her after classes. Genuine, hardcopy, physical “snail mail”. It was an artifact of a kind Katie had never seen before except in old vids. A cream-colored envelope, made of heavy textured paper, and maybe eleven by fifteen centimeters in size. The back was blank, but the front was fascinating. Her address at the Academy was handwritten in the middle in vivid blue ink in a clear bold hand.
In smaller letters in the top left corner there was another address. “Admiral (ret’d) Katrina Schlossberg, Green Mountain Estate, VT, USA” it read.
Katie was no expert on the addressing of physical mail, but the address seemed lacking to her. Katie also wondered who the hell Admiral Schlossberg was and why she’d sent Katie a letter of some sort.
It was rather exciting.
The mail room was off the foyer. A distinct anachronism, but in keeping both with the Academy’s attachment to tradition, and its paranoia about relying on modern electronic networks. Katie figured if aliens managed to hack human networks they were all doomed anyway, and that falling back to passing pieces of paper around wasn’t a viable backup option. She also wondered if she was to voice that opinion, if the response wouldn’t be to add signal flags into the mix. If she’d had time for it, she’d have been concerned by how anti-technology the Space Force was. It’d been a surprise.
As it was, she simply resisted the urge to try and open her mail there and then and headed back to her room.
Entering that room, she found her roommate sprawled on her bed studying a textbook.
“Ever hear of an Admiral Katrina Schlossberg?” Katie asked Colleen.
“The Dragon Lady?” Colleen replied. “Who hasn’t?”
“Me?” Katie responded with chagrin. She didn’t like feeling ignorant, and it’d proved all too common an experience at the Academy so far.
Colleen sat up, taking a cross legged sitting position on the middle of her bed. She shook her head. “We’ve got to catch you up on all this some time,” she said. “I don’t know when. Schlossberg was a real hard ass, but fair when she was on active service. She’s supposed to still have the ear of most of the higher brass. Admiral Collison is supposed to be an old flame of hers.”
Katie Kincaid Space Cadet Page 6