by Mia R Kleve
“He can shoot,” Lieutenant Arlichaa said. He was the weapons instructor at the Academy’s range. “He is skilled with a blade, as well,” the Goka added.
Professor Mul-Zinth, a Jeha spoke up. “Candidate Millzak passed his classes in my department. Several instructors took extra time with him. Granted, his scores were far from stellar, but they were passing scores. He has memorized the procedures and the required programs to disable ships, communication devices, and personal slates. He can also program rudimentary searches. What he can’t do himself, he knows how to tie in the patches that all Peacemakers have access to in order to accomplish the mission. In short, as far as computers are concerned, he can get the job done.”
Deputy Selector Bellgrund, the only Peacemaker in the room not assigned as faculty, stood up. “Candidate Millzak will be assigned a commissioning mission like the rest of his classmates. Period. He was selected to attend this academy and has passed the courses, assignments, weapons qualifications, and the physical training, including unarmed combat, required.”
Peacemaker Bellgrund was a Buma and though she was only four feet tall and resembled an owl from the planet Earth, the birth world of Humans, she had the ability to command a room as she was doing now. The fact she held the rank of major had nothing to do with it. It was, in fact, one of the reasons she had been selected to begin training as a Peacemaker Selector on her own commissioning mission before her final year at the Academy so many years ago.
She continued, “Professor Zeemna, you are incorrect in your assumption that Candidate Millzak has never scored more than a marginal rating. Every peer evaluation Millzak has received has been of the highest rating possible. Unlike some sitting at this table when they were Peacemaker candidates, his classmates think highly of him.” The Deputy Selector stared at the Veetanho, letting everyone in the room know who she was referring to.
After a few tense moments, she continued, “A small percentage of his race have the mental capacity to apply as Peacemakers. Few are accepted and attend this academy, even fewer have received their badges. He did not apply…I selected him. As a general rule, I stay out of the Academy’s business after a candidate I select is enrolled. With this candidate, I am making an exception. With all due respect, Dean, you will send him on a commissioning mission.”
Dean Krithnaim smiled at his old friend. “Rest assured, I feel no disrespect. As a matter of fact, your presence here to ensure fair treatment of one you selected is welcome. It does me good to be reminded the candidates at this academy are not numbers…grades, if you will. They are not simply names on an order of merit list. Those learning here and successfully graduating will become Peacemakers. That is no small feat. Though we now reside here at the Academy, we are all, in fact, Peacemakers. We swore an oath to uphold justice. Millzak is a candidate in good standing, regardless of how close he may be to the cut line. He will be assigned a mission. It is just.”
Later, after the meeting was over and the instructors had left to perform the various tasks to prepare candidates for missions or to get ready for the upcoming graduation ceremony, Bellgrund and Krithnaim caught each other up. They were interrupted by yet another old friend.
Hak-Chet stepped into the conference room. “I thought I would catch you two here,” he said.
“Where else would we be?” Bellgrund answered. “Surely not in the auditorium where they are preparing for the graduation. You can have the pomp and circumstance, my friend.”
Krithnaim said, “I, for one, am glad the guild master presides over graduation ceremonies. That’s one tradition that needs to stay in place as long as I am dean. Standing that long in one place is bad on these old paws.”
Hak-Chet smiled and spread his wings slightly. A Sidar resembling a bat-like Pteranodon, the positioning of his wings added to his facial expressions. “You are not that old, sir.”
“I am old enough to consider retirement,” Krithnaim argued.
“You say that every year,” observed Bellgrund. “Hak, it is good to see you again. I take it you are here for a specific graduate?”
“I am,” answered Hak-Chet. “I think he is the one.”
“I hope you are right,” she said. “I truly do.” She let the subject drop, and the three talked for a while about trivial matters.
Finally, Bellgrund said, “Well, I need to go see a young Lumar before I leave Ocono and wish him well on his upcoming commissioning mission. Be well my friends.”
* * *
Chapter Two
Peacemaker Academy
Ocono
Millzak stared at his slate and reread the orders displayed on it. Once he was sure of its meaning, he slowly grinned. He had been assigned a commissioning mission. A follow-up message would be sent shortly with the name of his candidate partner. He thumbed the tab for his notes and went through the list again, comparing it to the gear on his bunk, line by line. Holding the slate in his two upper hands, his other two touched the items, his lips moving as he read the list to himself, sounding out the more difficult words.
A voice from his open doorway called his name. She had waited until he put his slate down after finishing the list. He looked over and down, grinning. “Deputy Selector Bellgrund, I am happy to see you.”
“And I am happy to see you,” Bellgrund said, looking up at the seven-foot-tall Lumar, unable to keep joy from her own face. “I see you are preparing for your upcoming mission.”
“Yes,” Millzak answered. “I have orders.”
“That is very good,” the Deputy Selector said. “In a year you will graduate and be a Peacemaker if you continue to work hard at it.”
“I will,” agreed Millzak with a serious nod. “It has not been easy, but I will not fail. Many times I have to read things again and again.” He indicated his slate. “I have learned to program some things on a computer. That was the hardest to learn. And math, math is very hard.”
“I know,” Bellgrund agreed. “But you learned, and that is what is most important. How have you been other than your classwork?”
“Good,” answered Millzak, rolling both sets of muscular shoulders like a prize fighter before a bout. “I am good. How are you?”
“I am well,” answered Bellgrund.
“Can I ask a question,” Millzak said with a slight tilt to his head.
“Certainly, you may,” answered the Deputy Selector as she leaned against the doorway.
“Why did you pick me?” Millzak asked. He had been asking himself this question for several years. “I am not smart like some Lumar. The smart ones are business owners and in government. They learn about medicine, and others are teachers. I am not smart enough for that.”
“You are smart enough, Millzak,” she answered. “Never let anyone tell you different.”
“I study hard to remember things,” he countered. “I have learned to use reminders to help me remember. I watch some of my classmates answer questions without looking up the answers to learn them first. Some do not study at all, and they pass. I am not like them.”
“Maybe you are not quite like them,” answered Bellgrund, “but they are not like you. Tell me, have you made friends here?”
“Yes,” answered Millzak, nodding. “I am friends with many. Sometimes I sit, and I talk with them when they are upset, or something is wrong. When they are happy, I am happy with them. If they need help, I help. If they want to talk, I listen. If they need to just sit and sip a drink and stare, I will sit with them. Talk is not always needed.”
“Do they help you when you need it?” asked the elderly Peacemaker.
“Yes,” answered Millzak. “If I need help, I ask them to help me. Sometimes it is to study with them. Many times, they explain things to me again after class. I think, if you need help, you should ask. There is no shame in asking for help.”
“I agree,” Bellgrund said. “You show wisdom beyond your years in believing that. Let me ask you, how do you know when they are happy…or sad? Do they tell you?”
Millza
k stared off for a moment thinking hard. “Not in the beginning. I just knew. I could tell. It is like I can tell when one is not being truthful. We had a class in the body language of a lot of races. I did not understand many of the terms the professor was teaching. The big words can be very confusing, but I passed the exams because I knew what the subjects were feeling. I could tell if they were not being honest. I could see through them.”
“And that, my young Candidate, is why I selected you,” answered Bellgrund with a tilt of her own head. When he looked confused, she explained in more detail, “You gave indications of a natural empath. You have the ability to read someone and determine if they are telling the truth, to know what they are feeling.” She continued. “My fellow selectors thought I was wrong in selecting you, a Lumar with no hope of passing the entrance exams. On my orders, those exam scores were waived. They laughed at the thought of someone reading minds, until I reminded them I had not said that. I did not call you telepathic. No one of any race reads minds. But an empath doesn’t read minds, they read body language incredibly well and feel emotions to a small degree. Beings will tell empaths things they normally keep to themselves, opening up to one they’ve only known for five minutes as if they have known them for five months. Yes, there were many other Lumar who scored higher than you on the tests, but there was no one on your planet with the natural ability you possess. Are you familiar with the Human term savant?”
“I do not know what that means,” admitted Millzak, he picked up his slate. “But I will look it up. How is it spelled?”
Bellgrund waved it off. “It is not important. What is important is you have worked hard, and you are going on a commissioning mission. I am proud of you.”
“You are also afraid,” observed Millzak. “I see it. What are you afraid of?”
The Deputy Selector smiled. “If you tell me how you know, I will tell you my fear.”
Millzak thought hard. Finally, he spoke, “You have your wings crossed as if you are trying to hold your feelings inside. Your eyes squinted slightly when you said the word fear. Your shoulders are tight, and you stood up, away from the door jam, no longer comfortable. You feel…nervous, and I feel it. I am sorry, I do not know what else to say or how to explain,”
“Well, it is enough,” admitted Bellgrund. “You called out the things I was doing without realizing it, and when pointed it out, I admit I was doing those things. I am nervous and a little frightened…for you. I want you to do well on your mission and continue on to graduate. I will be honest with you. I am looking toward retirement. Over the years I have brought many to this academy from the various races in my assigned sector. Most were follow-ups to applications. There have been very few I selected who had not applied. The other Lumar who have become Peacemakers are literally geniuses. They are above average intelligence for any race. You are above average for a Lumar, but not for most other races and you are far from a genius. Before I leave, I wanted to show my fellow selectors there is a wide pool of candidates they have been missing, that they should look beyond scores and grades. Look for other talents.”
“I am your experiment,” Millzak said. The word came out slowly, giving away the fact it was not one used often by him.
“Yes, in a way you are,” admitted Bellgrund. “At least you were in the beginning. Now, I truly want to see you graduate because you want to be a Peacemaker so badly. You have worked hard and refuse to fail. I admire that in you. No one, at any level in the Academy, has worked as hard as you do to simply pass. I don’t think anyone has…ever. There are some who worked hard to be the top of their class, but none have put in everything they had to simply retain their place here. There have been those who failed out of the academy, but they didn’t have the desire and work ethic to pass as you do. Now, I want it because you do.”
Millzak nodded. “I believe you. Thank you for selecting me…and for caring. I will not let you down.”
“I know you won’t,” Bellgrund smiled. “You don’t know how to fail. Sometimes it’s good to not know something.”
* * *
Professor Zeemna walked into the Assignments Office, moving past the two desks and the assistants working at their consoles, to the administrator’s office. The Otoo sitting on his raised stool looked up from his computer and stopped what he was doing.
“Professor Zeemna,” Administrator Bwagoln said. “What brings you to my office? If it is about the commissioning assignment detail message, as soon as I add this last one, I will be sending them all at once to the candidates.”
“No rush, my friend,” Zeemna said waiving it off. “No rush at all. I know you have been putting in long days this close to the end of the year.”
“Well, yes,” answered Bwagoln, relaxing. One of his small pincers swiped across an eyestalk. “I tell you, I will be glad to get into some water when this day is through. I tend to get ‘crabby’ the longer I am away from it.” The normally somber administrator laughed at his own joke about his race’s resemblance to the Earth animal.
Professor Zeemna laughed along with him. “I came to help you out with the last one. I believe you received a last-minute addition to the list I sent earlier this week.”
“I did,” agreed Bwagoln, “a Candidate Millzak. I haven’t pulled up his file yet to see where he would be best utilized. I admit, I do not even know his race. Between commissioning assignments and the assignments of graduating Peacemakers, they tend to run together.”
“I sympathize with you. Send him with Candidate Zerze,” suggested Zeemna. “He is number one in the class and will be the valedictorian. There is no one close enough to catch him. I understand he is going to the Trindlark System where there is a labor problem along with other issues.”
“Why, yes,’ Bwagoln admitted. “It seems like a financial issue, having to do with profit sharing and wages in that dual-planet system. How do you know Zerze is assigned there?” Both eyes on the end of their small stalks narrowed.
“You mentioned it last week,” said Zeemna dismissively. “Since there are two problems, I suggest Millzak handle the financial issue with the profits and pay while our future valedictorian handles the labor issue on the sister planet. Two planets, two assignments. We will grade them on the success of their own assignments, of course.”
“I suppose,” Bwagoln said slowly.
Zeemna smiled and pushed her dark goggles up her nose. “The sooner you finish the assignments and send them out, the sooner you can get under some water. Besides, I hate to see you working so hard and so late, my friend.”
Bwagoln thought for a moment, turned back to his computer, and quickly started typing. He touched the screen and finished the assignments. He sent the assignment detail messages in bulk. “Done!” he exclaimed. “Thank you for the suggestion. It is much quicker when you don’t have to peruse a candidate’s file with years of classes and evaluations. Now if you will excuse me, I intend to go get wet.” He started gathering his things.
“Think nothing of it,” the Veetanho said as she turned to go. She looked back over her shoulder and said, “We should do lunch during the break sometime.”
She walked out grinning to herself.
* * *
Chapter Three
Trindlark System
Trading Station
The two Peacemaker Candidates sat in the waiting area on the trading space station in the Trindlark System. Each waited for a system shuttle to take them to the planet of their assignment. The station was strategically located between the two planets in the star’s habitable zone. One planet was sparsely populated, the center for system mining, and the other was like so many other colonies across the galaxy, home for the miners and the businesses that grew up in a new place.
This system was occupied mainly by Caroon, a race known for mining. The corporation owning most of the mining was not headquartered in the system, so local business was managed by a subcontracted company of Veetanho which used Blevin for security. There was no further information in the mis
sion brief.
Millzak looked over at his mission partner, a SleSha, and said. “You will go to one planet, and I will go to the other, right?” Their translators and ear-pieces handled the communication easily. Affixed to each of their coveralls, in the shoulder area, was a small speaker able to do the same should the situation warrant.
“Right, Millzak,” Peacemaker Candidate Zerze answered. He reached up and touched the Peacemaker badge affixed to his uniform with the small pincers on his limb. It was almost identical to an actual Peacemaker’s badge. He couldn’t quite feel its weight through the clothes against his exoskeleton. That area of his body didn’t have many nerves except inside. Sometimes he wondered if the wasps he resembled on Earth were made the same way, though so much smaller. “You will handle the issue on Trindlark while I take care of the problems on Gondlo. Our brief doesn’t say exactly what the issues may be. Going in without a preconceived notion is part of the training but don’t worry, though the request for Peacemaker intervention was made, those above us have determined a couple of candidates can handle it.”
“That is good,” said Millzak, “but we are not a couple. We are two. Wait, a couple is two. A few is three or more. We are a couple.” He nodded his head after figuring it out.
“It will be fine,” Zerze said. “We don’t even have to go incognito.”
“In what?” asked Millzak.
“It means ‘in disguise,’” laughed Zerze. “Remember, sometimes a Peacemaker must conceal their identity on missions.”
“I remember,” Millzak said. “Something you are not.”
“Exactly,” Zerze grinned as well as his facial features would allow, imitating many other races when they were amused. Sometimes he was nearly as excited as his friend when the Lumar learned something new.