“I would never have gotten that one,” admitted Cap. “But I think you’re right.”
“That leaves the one about the center of gravity, which I can’t figure out.”
“Why the sudden interest in these riddles on the night before a final?”
Logan put his hands behind his head, laced his fingers, and leaned back. He looked at the ceiling for a moment. Then he said, “My sudden interest was sparked by a visit from Lieutenant Fischer of the State Protection Directorate. He came here to ask about my grandfather. He found the riddles interesting and scanned an image of the card they were written on.”
Cap sat down at the table. “The SPD? Really? Why would they care about your grandfather’s death?”
“I don’t know. He died in a car accident, but they apparently check into any deaths involving anyone significant. Anyway, that’s what Fischer said.” Logan handed the officer’s card to Cap.
“Was your grandfather ‘significant’?” asked Cap, handing back the card after reading it. “I remember seeing him a couple of times a year at your house when we were kids, but I didn’t get the impression he was a heavyweight worthy of SPD attention.”
“Yeah,” said Logan. “He was a pretty well-known physicist, but I don’t think he was influential outside his professional circles. And even if he was, I don’t know if the SPD is investigating as a matter of routine or if they’re onto something suspicious.”
“Maybe they don’t believe the car accident was an accident,” offered Cap.
“That’s what I was thinking, but all I have to go on is these riddles. That’s why I’ve been wasting valuable study time trying to figure out what the ‘center of gravity’ is.”
“What happens when you solve it?” asked Cap.
Logan hesitated for a moment. Then he stood and went into his bedroom. When he returned, he laid the medallion on the counter. “My grandfather sent me this and asked that I keep it safe.”
Cap picked it up and examined it. “Interesting. What did Fischer say about it?”
“I didn’t tell him.”
Cap raised an eyebrow. “Did he ask?”
“Not directly. He asked if my grandfather had communicated with me. I showed him the congratulations card he sent.”
“But you didn’t show him this.” Cap turned it over and ran his thumb over the swirling grooves on the back. “You don’t think showing it to the SPD is what your grandfather would have wanted? It wouldn’t be safe?”
“I don’t know. Something in my gut held me back.” Logan scratched his head. “Probably not too smart to have kept this to myself.”
Cap raised an eyebrow and said, “It’s never smart to play around with the SPD. I’d rethink this if I were you and give Lieutenant Fischer a call. Tell him you suddenly remembered the medallion.”
“You think he’d believe that?” asked Logan, incredulously.
“No, but then you’d be done with it. Think big picture. You’ll be at the National Defense Research Center soon, one of the best active duty postings you can get coming out of Weller Academy. Your grandfather’s career is over; yours is just starting.”
Logan nodded. “I get it. Let the dead bury the dead.”
Cap raised a thumb. “Right on.”
Logan smiled and shook his head. “Nobody says that kind of stuff anymore. You know that, right?”
Cap shrugged and walked away.
Chapter 5
“Here comes Bouchet,” said Logan to Lena, who was sitting in the row behind him.
She looked up from reading some notes and saw the professor. “Right on time, as usual.”
A short man entered the lecture hall. His head was bald, except for a horseshoe of dyed black hair that ran around the back of his head. He wore a blue double-breasted pinstriped suit, white shirt, and a red bow tie with yellow stripes.
“Someone needs to tell him he dresses like a clown,” mumbled Lena.
“Watch your tone. He graduated at the top of his class at Clown College,” replied Logan.
“Okay, everyone. Let’s get started,” said the professor in a loud but rather high pitched voice.
He handed a stack of papers to an assistant and said, “Please distribute these to the students, face down.”
Logan heard Lena popping her knuckles. He turned around and saw she was feverishly reading a page on the small screen of her PDD. He looked down and saw she was unconsciously bouncing her leg under the bench.
“Relax, Lena,” he said.
“I am relaxed,” she replied.
“You have to let your mind focus on something else, even for just thirty seconds. Believe me, it helps.”
She waved the back of her hand at him, fingers down. “Be gone,” she said in a mock imperious tone.
“You’ve got thirty seconds before the final begins,” said Logan. “How much do you think you’re going to learn in thirty seconds?”
Lena did not respond.
“Hey, I’ve got a riddle for you,” said Logan. “What’s the center of gravity?”
“V,” she said without hesitation.
“What?”
“The center of gravity is ‘v’. It’s a kids’ riddle. Now leave me alone.”
Logan considered her answer and smiled. “Oh yeah. Makes sense.”
At the front of the auditorium, Professor Bouchet cleared his throat and spoke. “Ladies and gentlemen, please quiet down. Take your seats if you have not already done so.” He waited until everyone’s attention was on him.
“Welcome to your fluid dynamics final,” he said with a broad smile. “As with the midterm, this is an open-book exam, or, more precisely stated, an open PDD exam. You may refer to your PDD textbook and any notes that are of your own making.”
He walked along the front row of students and surveyed the faces directed toward him.
“However,” he continued, “as you no doubt realized while taking the midterm, your PDD and your notes won’t do you any good if you do not understand the material. My advice is to do your best on each question and move on. Don’t get bogged down. Maintain your pace. You can go back and revisit your answers when you have finished all the questions, although it’s unlikely you will have much time to do so.”
He saw a hand go up. He half closed his eyes and said, “And yes, you may use your PDD’s simware, but understand you won’t have time to program anything.”
The hand went down.
When the tests had been distributed, Professor Bouchet pressed a button on a controller and the number two followed by a colon and two zeros appeared on the room’s view screen. “You will have two hours to complete the exam. You may begin.” The view screen started counting down.
The students turned the exams over and began working. Logan had done a good job anticipating the first few questions and breezed through them. The next two questions were complicated, but once he had sorted out the irrelevant information, he developed a solution that he was confident would work. He looked up at the clock. An hour had already passed.
Logan looked down again and started to read the next question. As he read, his left hand began to twitch. He ignored it. A moment later it twitched again and he felt an aching sensation in his left thumb. He looked at his hand. Shit! He thought. Not now. Not now! His hand began to twitch more frequently. He put it on his lap but the twitching continued. With a sigh, he set down his pencil and closed his eyes. Soon he lost awareness of the classroom, the people around him, and the fact that he was taking a final exam. Everything turned black.
Professor Bouchet sat on a chair at the front of the class. He had a PDD in his hands, which displayed a news article. Clan Attack on Border Town Kills 20, Injures 33. He shook his head slowly as he read the details of how armed members of a border clan had attacked a small frontier town without warning or provocation. They looted it for food and fuel, killing anyone they could find, even the innocents. The attackers had retreated across the Mississippi before local military units could arrive on the scene.
Another article entitled, Anarchist Cell Uprooted in Louisville - Visa Controls Tightened, described how SPD tactical security units found bomb-making materials in several apartments of an abandoned building in Louisville. Five people were arrested, including a local government official. They were suspected to have caused several explosions near government buildings over the preceding year and would face an SPD tribunal within the month. The article discussed the additional measures the SPD was taking to improve public safety, including expanding travel restrictions around Louisville to visa holders only. A spokeswoman was quoted as saying the SPD also needed the assistance of the citizenry to identify strangers or strange behavior and report it to their local SPD office.
Professor Bouchet shook his head and looked up. “Barbarians,” he muttered. He scanned the faces of the students, stopping when he saw Logan. The young man was staring vacantly into the space in front of him. His left hand was aimlessly fidgeting on his lap and his cheeks were bright red.
Bouchet stood and quickly went up the stairs to Logan’s desk row. Slipping behind two students’ chairs to reach him, he leaned down and noted that Logan was clenching and unclenching his jaw muscles.
He whispered, “Are you all right, Mr. Brandt?”
He placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder and gently squeezed. Logan did not respond; he continued to look into the distance, his jaw muscles flexing. Bouchet looked down and saw Logan’s left hand repeatedly pulling at his trousers at the knee, as though picking away pieces of lint. Some of the students had noticed the commotion and watched Bouchet and Logan. Lena looked up from her exam and saw the professor in the row in front of her leaning close to Logan. Bouchet looked left and right and took a deep breath.
“Class,” he said loudly. “Continue with your exams. Mind the clock.”
With that announcement, even those who had not noticed Logan and Professor Bouchet looked up. Bouchet repeated himself more forcefully. “Continue with your exams.” Most complied with the instruction, but a few continued to watch the strange scene unfold.
Bouchet signaled for his assistant to come to him. “Something is wrong. We need to call a doctor,” said Bouchet to the young woman when she arrived.
Just then, Logan blinked and looked up at the professor.
“Are you all right, Mr. Brandt?” asked Bouchet with a nervous smile.
“I’m fine,” replied Logan, but his words were a bit slurred. He rubbed his face with his hands and took a deep breath. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
Bouchet patted him on the back and asked, “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Thanks.” Logan looked around the classroom to see a number of cadets were staring at him.
Bouchet nodded his head. He and the assistant returned to the front of the auditorium.
Logan picked up his pencil and tried to focus on the next question, but the words did not make sense to him. A minute or two passed before he could get back into a rhythm and regain his focus.
Bouchet sat down and continued to read his PDD. He periodically looked at Logan and searched for further signs of unusual behavior but saw none. When the countdown reached zero he called out in a loud voice, “Stop work. Turn your exams over.”
Logan turned over his exam. He had just finished the final question, but he had rushed through it and wasn’t confident that he had provided a complete answer. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He hadn’t failed the exam, but he knew he no longer had a shot at the top grade.
“You feeling all right?” asked Lena as they walked out of the lecture hall.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I just zoned out, I guess. Thanks for asking.”
“Sure thing,” she said.
Lena smiled at him, but Logan thought he detected a hint of silent jubilation behind her dark brown eyes.
“I’ve got close-quarters combat training now,” she said, and patted him on his shoulder. “See you later.”
Logan watched as she turned left and quickly descended a flight of steps. A thought flashed across his mind. There goes our class valedictorian.
Chapter 6
Logan entered the apartment that evening and found Cap and two classmates watching a martial arts competition on the wall-mounted view screen. They were drinking beer and cheering.
“Heeeyyyyy, Logan’s back from the last final of his life!” yelled Cap. “His final final! We’ve been waiting for you. The Re-Ded mixed martial arts finals are on – come watch. Then we’re all going out.” He pointed at the two cadets sitting on the couch and then at Logan. “All of us. You’re coming, too. No excuses!”
Logan smiled and put his hands up. “Sounds good, but first I’m going for a run.” He turned and walked to his room.
Cap followed him and stood in the doorway. “I know what you’re up to and it isn’t going to work.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Logan without looking at Cap.
“You’re going on a twenty-kilometer run with no intention of going out tonight.” He stepped forward and patted him on the back. “But not this time, my friend. We’re done with Weller Academy. We’re going our separate ways soon and who knows if and when we’ll see each other again. I mean these guys.” He pointed toward the living room with his thumb just as the two cadets let out loud cheers as one of the martial arts combatants landed a series of powerful blows. “You and I grew up together so you’re stuck with me for life.”
Logan’s smile faded and he looked at Cap. “I had an episode,” he said. “I had a seizure right in the middle of the final. Barely finished in time.”
Cap folded his arms and leaned against the door frame. “Shit. I thought the meds were supposed to stop those.”
“I guess not.” replied Logan. “If Bouchet reports this up the chain, they’ll reevaluate me. They gave me the all-clear three years ago, and I haven’t had a seizure for five, but if this gets out there’s no way the army will trust me with anything more dangerous than a pencil.”
“So what?” said Cap in an encouraging voice. “You’ll just be a regular Flat Foot infantryman. No big deal.”
“Do you think they’ll give an infantryman who suffers seizures a weapon? Not likely.” Logan threw his book bag on his bed. He sat down on the corner of the mattress and ran his hands through his hair. “Damn it!”
After a moment, he looked up at Cap. “I don’t care about being able to drive a tank or shoot a rifle, but I don’t want to be separated from everyone else. I don’t want to be the guy who spends his active duty years riding an office chair with ‘unfit for combat’ written on the top of his personnel file.”
“What are you talking about?” said Cap dismissively. “You won’t be in an office. You’re slated for National Defense Center. You probably won’t even be required to serve in a combat unit. You’re a research and development guy.”
“Thanks, Cap, but you know that’s bullshit. Everyone who’s fit does at least one year in a combat unit. And if I don’t do that one year, what are my chances for advancement? Even at the NDC. They’ll always look at me as being somehow deficient.”
After a few moments Cap said, “Fuck it. They won’t find out. As far as Bouchet knows, you just zoned out. Now get changed. We’re going out.”
“I’d rather not,” said Logan. “I need go for a run, clear my head. And besides, it’s a Tuesday night.”
“So what?” asked Cap. “You’re done with finals. Take my advice for once and live a little.”
Chapter 7
Cap handed everyone a shot of whiskey, then he placed four glasses of beer on the table in front of them. Raising his glass to eye level, he looked at each of his companions in the eye and said, “Logan, Ben, Hector - a toast to the end of school and the beginning of our lives.”
The others raised their glasses and gulped down their whiskey. Cap coughed after he swallowed. “Damn it, Mick!” he yelled at the bartender. “Wash the bathtub before you make the whiskey!”
An attractive young woman standing behind the bar shr
ugged and said, “We make the whiskey in a bucket. The gin is made in a bathtub, fly boy. And if you don’t like it you can get the hell out of here.”
Cap winked at her and smiled, but she turned away to pour a beer for a balding man in a rumpled brown suit.
Ben passed around the glasses of beer. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Here’s something to wash down that suspect whiskey.”
“Thanks, Ben,” said Cap. He took a long drink and smiled. “Better,” he said, smacking his lips. “Better get another one.”
“So why’d you insist on coming to this stinking hole of a bar?” asked Hector, a short stocky man with curly dark hair. “It should be closed down as a threat to public health.”
“Simple,” said Cap in a voice loud enough for Mick to hear him. “Mick is in love with me, and I wanted to give her a goodbye kiss before going on active duty.”
Mick was pouring a beer from the tap. “You never give up, do you.” She handed the beer to an overweight man in a collared shirt a size too small. She looked at Logan and said, “Why don’t you introduce me to your handsome friend?”
“Who? Logan? He’s not your type,” said Cap.
“Tall, strong, and handsome is exactly my type,” she said, allowing her eyes to linger on Logan for a moment before she turned and walked toward the other end of the bar.
Cap looked at Logan and said. “She’s too much woman for a boy of your tender disposition. She’d only break your innocent heart.”
“Thanks for protecting me,” said Logan with a smile. Then he looked at Hector. “Where’s your active duty station, squid?”
“Charleston,” he answered with a smile. “Warm weather and beautiful girls.”
“And scrubbing floors in the hold of a fifty-year-old coastal cutter,” added Ben, a skinny man with a weak chin and a thin beard.
“Like hell,” Hector responded. “I’m assigned to a new destroyer, Hampton, and lieutenant JGs don’t scrub deck floors.”
Logan looked at Cap and Ben. “Why is it that whenever you talk to a lieutenant junior grade they always shorten it to ‘JG’?”
The Navigator (The Apollo Stone Trilogy Book 1) Page 3