The Turret: Starclan Foundation

by James McAlliater

  Standard Earth Date September 8 3440

  Jock stopped in the middle of the Quad as the crowd flowed around him. Still numb from his father’s death, he was having a hard time focusing on the task at hand. He didn’t even remember how he got this far.

  His mind wouldn’t stop replaying that day at the lake. His mom’s face, her tears. How Agnes, Don, and Sandy had tried to comfort him. And how he had pushed them all away.

  Sandy. She had run to him, and she held his hand as they walked to him.

  Every time he thought of Sandy, he saw the Marine colonel telling him, “Son, there’s been an accident.”

  He saw the vid of his father’s death.

  It all looked so wrong.

  It wasn’t an accident.

  No matter what they told him.

  The world around Jock began shrinking into that private pinpoint of pain again.

  “Well, helloooo, handsome!” The tiny voice squeaked out of a short, olive-skinned girl with shining black hair and bright, smiling eyes. “I’m Angela. Angela Soriano. And you are?” she said, extending her hand while flashing a grin.

  Jock looked at the girl, then her hand, and robotically reached out and shook it. “Jock. MacAlister.”

  “Oh, you’re the brilliant Clan Chieftain I’ve heard about! Wonderful! Here, follow me, and we’ll get through this orientation thing.” Angela snaked her arm around his and started to lead him through the crowd towards the auditorium.

  Jock allowed her to lead him, her arm pulling him into reality as much as it pulled him into the auditorium. Still, he wasn’t watching where he was going when the two in front of him stopped. He walked right into them before Angela could pull him back.

  “Oh, um, sorry!” Jock stammered his apology to the two oblivious people he bumped into. The collision knocked Jock a little further from that pinpoint.

  “What exactly are you trying to say?” The shapely honey-blonde haired girl with her hands on her hips and an amused look on her face demanded.

  “I said, um, that, um, your, eh…” The tall, thin young man stammered.

  Jock looked from one to another. Something here pushed his pain aside, pushed everything connected to that pain into a dark box deep inside his mind. Was it the pretty girls? Or was it that these three didn’t know about his father, and seemed to delight in each moment. Jock thought he could make new memories with them, memories never associated with that horrible pain.

  The futile efforts of the tall thin young man amused Jock enough to snap him into action. “What he’s trying to say is this; your eyes reflect my soul like shimmering pools, and your hair outshines the morning sun; when you smile wise men are but fools, all my senses your beauty stuns!” Jock grinned.

  Both the tall young man and the blonde turned and stared at Jock.

  “Yes, that’s it, exactly!” The tall young man exclaimed, slapping a hand on Jock’s shoulder.

  The blonde turned to the tall one, and then looked back to Jock with glazed eyes. “Say that again!” she asked softly.

  “Your eyes reflect my soul like shimmering pools, and your hair outshines the morning sun; at your smile wise men are but fools, all my senses your beauty stuns.” Jock said in a quiet baritone voice as he smiled broadly at the blonde beauty.

  Angela was staring, mouth wide open, her arm in a vice-like grip on Jock’s arm as the blonde sighed heavily.

  “Hello. My name is Sharon Malone. What’s yours?” The blonde asked Jock. Oh, my! I have GOT to stay near this one! I can’t breathe!

  “I’m Patrick Campbell!” The tall young man chimed in.

  “Jock MacAlister, at your service, Pat, Shar. Here is my new friend, Angie.” Jock motioned to the girl clinging to his arm.

  Sharon looked at Angie, then at Pat, and laughed. “OK, then, Musketeers, let’s get ourselves orientated!” She grabbed Pat’s arm, and Jock’s free arm, and the four of them walked into the auditorium.

  Jock realized he was smiling for the first time in ten days.

  ***

  Zimm’s Lagrangian Scrap and Ship Sales

  L-5 Lagrangian Point

  Standard Earth Date January 6 3441

  The well-worn shuttle-pod slowly drifted past the huge reactor section of the tug. Dennis Trap eyed the massive heat sinks closely, for he had done his research. If the dense metal fins designed to dump excessive heat from the iron-fusion reactors into space were damaged or loose, the multimillion-credit tug could end up as an expensive chunk of fused scrap metal attached to a pilot’s seat.

  “So, Mr. Trap, Dennis, heh-heh, what do you think? A fine ship, isn’t she!” Tally Zimmer was a dark, sweaty, fidgety little man, his hands rubbing each other or some part of his ruddy face or greasy brown hair at all times.

  Dennis glanced to the left of the reactor. Just past the radiation shield that separated the crew module from the three reactor-plasma drive units, Dennis watched the lunar disk roll past in the background. He still found it hard to believe he was this close to his dream.

  Twenty years he had spent in the Corps, turning young kids into Marines. At first he thought about driving a truck. A little research told him that they’re all automated, and it’s more like riding than driving. But space tugs, now that could fit the bill! No one to bug him, he could pick his own assignments, and do some real piloting. So, he shelled out the credits for the space tug piloting classes, did his apprenticeship, and got his license. Now, if he could swing a little financing at the age of forty-five, he had enough for a substantial down payment for a beat up old tug. With the price of this one, though, he could pay cash, if he negotiated well enough.

  “She’s a nice looking ship. Before I test-drive her, tell me something, Zimmer. I’m curious; why so cheap? You should be asking ten times your price for this tug.” Hell, it’s even got a fresh coat of white and red paint!

  “Well, umm, Mr. Trap, you see…” Tally’s hands rubbed over each other faster as he spoke, “there is a history with this tug. This was the tug that, eh, well, this tug was named, heh-heh, “Thistle”, eh, hm.”

  “So?” So, no one wants it because it has a pansy-assed plant’s name?

  “Mr. Trap, Dennis, the S. T. Thistle was the tug captained by Allison Og.” Zimmer’s hands broke apart and began tugging at his earlobes and collar.

  “So?”

  “You don’t know the story of Allie Og? She murdered over three hundred innocent people!”

  “That cruise ship thing? But, this is a tug, isn’t it?”

  “That it is, sir. But sometimes tugs are, eh, were used by cruise lines for ‘special’ charter trips, far out from Earth. Instead of cargo barges, they haul pleasure barges out past the asteroids, past any, eh, um, jurisdictional issues. Cruise ships don’t have that kind of range or speed. Heh, eh, Allie Og took one of these pleasure barges out past Saturn. Rumor has it she found out the barge was hosting a snuff-cruise; she claimed there was a docking gravity clamp malfunction. When she lit her engines to begin the trip back to Earth, the barge swung around into the engine exhaust cone. The backwash from the plasma drive thrusters crumpled the barge, killing three hundred guests and fifty-six staff. She was convicted of 320 counts of murder.”

  “What the hell is a “snuff-cruise”? Were they sniffing something?”

  “I would rather not speak of such things, Mr. Trap.” Tally’s hands stopped moving as his eyes looked out of his pale face, focused on his shoes.

  “Wait, if there were 356 people on the barge, how did she only get convicted of 320 murders?”

  “Her defense was able to prove that thirty-six of the people on the barge were already dead; they were there to be, um, killed for the…” Zimmer paused, closed his eyes and swallowed hard,”…eh…entertainment of the guests. They were twelve sets of children and their parents.” Zimmer was trembling now.

  “How can…people…who…. wow. Assholes.” Dennis took a big breath as he studied the floor of the pod, looking for a place to spit the bad taste of this story out o
f his mouth. After a moment’s thought, he looked Zimmer in the eyes; “I can understand why the people shy away. I’ll take her.

  “Wha, what? You’re going to buy her, sir? Even after that story?” Zimmer’s face brightened as his eyes lit up.

  “Zimmer, the way I look at it, that tug removed 320 bags of evil shit from the universe. Now, if you can take a couple thousand off as a cash discount, I’ll sign, and you’ll get paid, today. In cash. Where’s the paperwork?”

  “Let me dock the pod, Mr. Trap, and then just follow me, sir!”

  Dennis couldn’t figure out how Zimmer could pilot the pod with his hands rubbing over each other like that.

  ***

  Syracuse University

  Hendricks Chapel

  Syracuse, New York

  Standard Earth Date June 1 3444

  Father Joseph Champlin noticed the pretty blonde girl was back again. She was in her usual position, kneeling at the rail with head down. The Father knew from experience the tears were hidden that way.

  He had offered solace and counseling countless times over the previous four years. She had politely refused each time. He prayed for guidance as he walked over to her one more time.

  “Child, it pains me to see you troubled so. You’ve not found the answers you look for. If you won’t let me help you with your troubles, at least let me guide the direction of your search. How are you seeking your peace?”

  Sandy kept her head down. She knew the kind face that voice belonged to.

  “I’ve been asking why…”

  “Sometimes we are not meant to know why. I sense this may be your last time here. Will you tell me what your troubles are?”

  A slight shake of her head was her answer.

  “Then try this, my child. Ask God to take your pain and anger for you.”

  Sandy lifted her reddened face to look at the priest.

  “Father?”

  “You have only to ask, Sandra. When you are ready, I will be here, God will be here. You always have only to ask.”

  ***

  United Space Force Academy

  Commandant’s Office Complex

  Cape Canaveral, Florida

  Standard Earth Date June 18 3444

  “Hey, c’mon! Don’t shove!”

  “Outta my way, pipsqueak!” The dark haired, lanky 6’ 4” Ensign tried to pull the slightly shorter but stockier officer in the crowd in front of him to one side, but found the man’s shoulder unmovable. When the shorter man’s heel dropped down on top of his foot, he let go of the shoulder.

  “OW! Hey! Damn it, Jock! That hurt!”

  Lieutenant Junior Grade Jock MacAlister turned and grinned at his friend, “Now, Ensign Campbell, is that any way to treat a superior officer?”

  “Jesus, Jock, you almost broke my foot! Have you seen our assignments yet?

  “No, I can’t get up there yet. Something, or SOMEONE,” Jock cupped his hands around his mouth, “IS HOLDING EVERYONE UP!”

  “Oh, Jock, HUSH!” came a voice like ringing bells from the front of the crowd. “Got ‘em!” A shapely arm waved three envelopes above the crowd.

  The crowd in front of Jock parted like the red sea, and every eye on every male present focused on the Lieutenant JG holding three envelopes high in her hand.

  “Well, hurry up, Shar!” Pat called.

  Sharon Malone walked slowly to her friends, exaggerating her normally entrancing walk for the benefit of the men in the crowd. Sharon was the complete dream package: what a mother dreams of for a daughter-in-law, as well as what her son dreams of during the night. She had a strikingly pretty face; lovely glacier-blue eyes, full lips, a turned-up button nose, a splendid figure, and constantly blushing high cheeks. Sharon was a great friend, kind, gentle but tough, strong, loyal, and had an astronomical IQ. And Sharon Malone always seemed to get what she wanted, almost. While she qualified for advanced placement to graduate as a Lt. JG instead of an Ensign, she came in second at the Academy to Jock MacAlister. And even though he was her nearly constant companion, escorting her to various functions as well as to the last two formals, she had not been able to entice him into more than a kiss on her cheek. Once Sharon reached Jock and Pat, her show-walk ended. The crowd went back to the task of shoving to get at their assignments.

  “Mr. Campbell, your assignment, Sir! Open it, please!” Please be something good for him! Sharon thought.

  Pat fumbled for a moment. It wasn’t the thought of what could be in the envelope, but the realization that once he opened it he had less than 24 hours to spend with his girl and his two best friends. The four had been nearly inseparable since their first week at the Academy, when Pat had stammered while trying to chat up Sharon, and Jock had intervened on his behalf by ‘translating’ Pat’s puppy love gibberish into Shakespearian sonnets for Sharon.

  “Oh. Well, Okay! I guess.” The four of us will end in 24 hours, whether I open this or not. Even IF Angie says ‘yes’…so…

  “Well, what is it?” Jock prodded his friend. While Pat’s jokes with Jock were almost always physical, Jock was the more athletic of the two. At six feet, one inch and two hundred five pounds, he combined speed and power well enough to win two national collegiate wrestling titles. Jock though always played mental jokes on Pat, but nothing ever cruel. Pat was a good friend, and smart enough to easily qualify for advanced placement himself. IF he had ever studied, which he almost never did. Jock kept telling Pat that he’d be the smartest one of the group, if he only tried a little harder.

  “I’ve been assigned to the staff of Admiral Alimonte.” Those words mean our friendship has 24 hours to live. But I like it anyway! Pat grinned.

  Sharon squealed with pride and joy as she hugged her friend, and Jock slapped him on the back.

  “Great news! That’s a prime assignment, Pat! Now, Jock, Mr. First-in-my-class, it’s your turn!” Sharon handed Jock the envelope. Is it too much to ask that we have the same assignment? Please? Of course it is! But, please?

  Jock looked at it for a moment, took it from Sharon’s lovely hand, and promptly stuffed it in his shirt pocket. “I already know where I’m going. Shar, you go next.” They’ll not like it. I have to be ready for that. I want this last day to be a happy one for all of us. I don’t want to lose their friendship. I don’t want any of us to remember this day with sadness.

  “Always the gentleman, hey Jockie?” Shar leaned over and kissed Jock’s cheek lightly, then lightly blew in his ear before she pulled back. “OK, here goes! In twenty-four hours I report to…here! I’m assigned to be an associate professor in naval history and battle tactics while I study for my PhD. Jock, that’s a policy/command career line!” Sharon just stared at nothing for a full minute before Jock spoke up. NO, no, no, no! Jock won’t be anywhere near here, he’ll be on Mars station or a patrol cutter or something far away, I know it! Don’t cry, it’s THE assignment I’ve been working for these last four years, how can it disappoint me so?

  “Pat, this is a record for her to be silent. I’ve got it at 75 seconds and counting….” Is she going to cry? What’s wrong?

  “You!” Sharon lightly slapped Jock’s cheek. “This is an honor, but it means at least three more years before I get into space! Still, it IS an honor!” But it’s too much time away from…away from YOU! Sharon felt her eyes filling, but could not take them off of Jock.

  “Shar, are you telling me you did NOT try for that assignment?” Pat knew the answer before he asked.

  “Well, of course I did!” It means I get to stay here and never see these two and Angie for at least three years! “Now, Jock, spill it! Where are you going?” They NEVER give two of these. Still, he has the highest grades ever here; he would get whatever he asked for. Please?

  “You didn’t do what I think you did, did you?” Pat was concerned about his friend. He asked for a Turret! The damn blockhead asked for a Turret!

  Jock pulled out the envelope and opened it. He pulled out the paper and glanced at it.

  “Whoo-hoo!
I’ve been assigned to command a Turret! Asteroid Defense Station 1437, to be specific. Just what I’ve wanted since I was a kid!”

  “God, Jock, how could you!” Don’t cry. At least he won’t meet anyone better for two years. Unless…no! Please, not that! What was the number? 1437? OH, NO! Maybe that’s not the number. I’ll recheck it later.

  “Geeze, buddy, that’s a one-way ticket to nowhere for your career!” Damn it, Jock, they’ll forget all about you out there! Three years and they’ll decommission them all, and you with them!

  “It’s also a prime automated weapons development research station, so I get to experiment on what I think is cool! Anyway, for right now, who cares? I got what I wanted, for once! Now,” Jock draped an arm around each of his friend’s shoulders, “How are we going to celebrate?” I’ve got to keep them focused, and then make them take the oath. Before I get too drunk to remember it!

  “We could go back to my place!” Shar grinned at the two men. Sure, it’s a long shot, but….

  “You learned how to cook? Great! I have to find Angie, first.” Pat quipped. There’s the softball, Jock.

  “What are you cooking, Shar?” Jock added. A long fly ball to deep center field… Usually when the guys ribbed Sharon, they double-teamed her. It made it much less personal. And, it helped each guy keep things light.

  “Well…Angela’s at Mama Rooney’s.” Damn! Shut out again. Maybe later, after a few beers!

  “Lead on, my Queen!” Jock chuckled.

  “After you, Princess!” Pat echoed.

  “My two knights in shining armor!” Sharon laughed as she put an arm over the shoulders of each man and the three walked out of the hall. I’m gonna miss this!

  ***

  Skytop Apartment Complex

  Syracuse, New York

  Standard Earth Date June 18 3444

  “Sandy, are you sure you don’t want to come home for the summer? It’s not much of a drive in. Your friends, your mother and I would love to have you for a little while longer.”