by C. G. Mosley
Her jaw was clenched tightly, and her eyes darted away from his. “Nothing sir…it’s nothing,” she said.
Buchanon noted that there was not a hint of fear in her tone. She remained confident despite the angry hulking man behind her.
Stroth stared at her a long moment before finally stepping around her and up to the soldier with the busted lip. “What is going on?” he growled.
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “N-nothing sir,” he stammered.
Stroth shook his head and then looked back to Buchanon. The older general allowed a slight hint of a smile and shrugged. He then looked back at the large man in front of him. “Private, get your ass to the barracks now. Your superior officer will be with you shortly.”
The man saluted and immediately jogged away without saying another word. Stroth then sighed and made his way back in front of Banshee. “Lieutenant, did you punch Private Smith in the mouth?”
Banshee cleared her throat and then wiped the blood away from her nose with the back of her shirt sleeve. “Yessir,” she muttered, her voice steady.
Stroth clenched his jaw and shook his head, clearly disgusted. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“I’d rather not, sir,” Banshee replied.
Stroth inhaled deeply, his shoulders rising when he did so. He then pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. It seemed to Buchanon that he’d had a lot of discussions similar to the one he was having now. “Merissa, if it were not for the fact that you’re about to get off this rock, I’d throw you in the brig until you decide that you’d like to talk about what happened.”
Banshee kept her head held high and stared straight ahead. “Sir, he refused to tell you what happened too,” she countered.
“And he will be dealt with by his superior officer,” Stroth barked back. “You outrank him, Merissa. You outrank a lot of the soldiers based here. When are you going to start acting like it?”
“I have no excuse for my actions, sir,” Banshee replied.
Buchanon noticed for the first time her eyes seemed to drift over to where he was standing.
“Get out of here, lieutenant,” Stroth growled. “I want you to leave on that shuttle with General Buchanon and I hope the next time I see you that you’ve grown up a little.”
Banshee bit her lip and nodded slowly.
“You’re dismissed,” he said, and she trudged away in the direction of the hangar without another word.
General Buchanon crossed his arms and watched her leave. “You say she’s a handful, huh?” he asked, glancing over at General Stroth.
The younger man cracked his knuckles and shifted his feet as if he were trying to ease the tension that had quickly washed over his body. “You just saw the tip of the iceberg,” he grumbled.
Chapter 12
“Commander Stellick, sir,” Jake said meekly as he peeked his head in the door.
Roger had been in his office for over three hours going over the files on every crew member that was to join the expedition aboard the SC Titan. He really was not in the mood for company, but he also knew that he was in desperate need of a break. As he turned his vision away from the small print on the documents he was reviewing, he pulled his reading glasses off and squinted to see who was at the door.
“Ah, it’s P.F.C. Crosby, right?” he asked, as he put the papers aside.
Jake smiled a toothy grin. He was pleased that Roger remembered him. “Yessir,” he replied. “May I come in?”
Roger pushed back from his desk and leaned back in his chair. He gestured for the young man to come in and have a seat. He noticed that Jake had a file folder of his own tucked under his arm. “What can I do for you Crosby?” he asked, eyeing the folder.
Jake came in and cleared his throat as he sat down. He appeared quite nervous and fidgeted with the folder. “I, uh…I brought the paperwork you requested,” he stammered.
Roger’s brow tightened, and he turned his head slightly, confused. “Paperwork?” he asked. “What paperwork?”
Jake again cleared his throat and shifted in his chair as if he were sitting on a cushion of thorns. “You…you, ah…you asked me to fill out another application for the pilot training program…and you asked for my T.A.P. scores,” he said nervously.
Roger nodded as he suddenly remembered. “Yes, Jake, I’m sorry, I completely forgot,” he said apologetically. “That’s been over a month ago, why are you just now getting this to me?” he asked as he held a hand out to receive the file folder.
Jake handed it over. “I know, I just knew that you had a lot going on with the preparations for the mission,” he said. “I didn’t want to bother you. Is it too late?”
Roger put his reading glasses on again and began looking over the application. Everything looked in order and it was evident that Jake had filled out multiple applications before. He then moved on to the T.A.P. scores. “No, of course it’s not too late,” he said as he scanned over the paper. “I see why you’re having an issue getting accepted.”
“Yessir,” Jake said anxiously. “Please tell me what you see.”
Roger placed the documents back into the folder and closed it. “It’s your social skills, they’re very low. You’re classified as an introvert and almost every pilot that gets accepted into the program are outgoing extroverts.”
Jake lowered his head slightly, looking defeated. “I see,” he said softly. “So, you’re saying I’m not a good candidate.”
Roger pulled his glasses off again and tossed them on the desk. “No, you’re not a good candidate Jake,” he said.
“Okay,” Jake said, and he reached for the folder. “I appreciate you looking at it, sir, really, I do.”
Roger pulled the folder out of his reach. “I said you’re not a good candidate, Jake, but that doesn’t mean you just give up.”
Jake slowly moved his eyes from the folder and up to Roger’s. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that though your scores aren’t helping you, they’re still within the minimums required to enter the program. The problem you’re having right now is that you simply don’t have anyone to vouch for you.”
Jake squinted his hazel eyes as he tried to understand. “Yessir?”
Roger shook his head and chuckled in amusement. “Jake, are you sure this is what you want? The program you’re trying to get into, it’s…”
“It’s what I want sir,” Jake cut in. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Roger nodded and looked down at his desk seemingly deep in thought. “Alright,” he said after a minute. “Jake, I’ll pull some strings and I’m gonna get you in, but I want 110 percent out of you. If you don’t give 110 percent, I’ll see to it that you’re pulled right back out.”
Jake’s jaw dropped, and he stared at Roger in a moment of stunned silence.
Roger raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright, Jake?”
Jake nodded slowly. “Yessir, I think so…I just don’t know what to say.”
“How about, thank you,” Roger said as he offered his hand.
Jake smiled. “Thank you, sir, I will not let you down.”
“You better not,” Roger said. “Now I’m scheduled to leave late tomorrow night, but I’ll make a call to get you on the enrollment list for the next time the program opens. It’s usually in late March.”
“Thank you so much sir, I won’t let you down,” Jake said again.
“You’re repeating yourself now, Jake,” Roger said with a chuckle. “Get out of here, get to studying, and work on your social skills.”
“I’ll do that, sir,” he said jovially.
Jake got up and nearly stumbled over the chair as he made his exit. Roger shook his head and stifled a laugh as he returned his attention to the files in front of him.
***
Merissa Voight, or Banshee as she preferred to be called, had taken it upon herself to explore every nook and cranny of the SC Titan during the 80-minute voyage from Mars to Titan. As soon as she
boarded, a good-looking lieutenant named Hayden Carter greeted her and gave her a slip of paper with her cabin number and other pertinent information. Carter appeared to be the same age as her and he had piercing blue eyes that made her heart flutter when she looked at him. He was the type of man that she could not help but feel an attraction to, but she was also very cognizant of the fact that he probably had zero interest in her.
Banshee had a terrible upbringing, and it was one she spoke very little about. Both of her parents had died in a plane crash when she was only four and she’d spent the next twelve years of her life under the care of her aunt and uncle in rural Minnesota, U.S.A. Unbeknownst to her aunt, and practically everyone else that she’d ever met, her uncle spent almost all those twelve years sexually abusing her at least twice a week. Banshee never dared to tell anyone. It wasn’t because she felt that her uncle would hurt her—although he might have. It had more to do with the fact that she was incredibly embarrassed. She could not help but feel that it was somehow her fault.
As she blossomed into a young woman, she ran away from the home she’d shared with her aunt and abusive uncle which led her to a brief period in her life that included drugs and crime. She’d found refuge with other troubled teenagers, all of whom seemed to be running from something in their past. Banshee probably would’ve died in a cold dark alley one night if she hadn’t been arrested for shoplifting in a department store a few weeks before her eighteenth birthday. The judge took pity on her, and since she was a minor, she received leniency that some of her friends did not. She was essentially given an ultimatum. She could return to her aunt and uncle’s custody where the abuse she’d endured would most likely begin again; or, she could speak to a military recruiter where she could potentially find real purpose in her life, and more importantly, a skill that would carry her forward. She considered her options, and as she’d come to hate everything about her world, she thought the logical direction would be the Space and Aeronautics Military Alliance.
The recruiter she was assigned to was young and attractive. In fact, as she thought about it, he reminded her a lot of Lieutenant Hayden Carter. Against her better judgement, she had a sexual relationship with the man that eventually ended badly. Strange as it was, it was only then that her real self-hatred began. Not with her uncle, as one might assume, but it was that recruiter. She’d felt dirty and ugly with her uncle, but the recruiter, someone that was supposed to be helping her move forward in life, had somehow managed to make her feel even more worthless than she already did. Fortunately, the pairing with him was not all bad, as he did give her the T.A.P. test where she went on to make the second highest score ever recorded. Her score being as high as it was, suddenly there was a lot of attention on her from officers much higher than the recruiter and she soon found herself far away from him and all the other terrors she’d experienced in her home state of Minnesota.
S.A.M.A. officials made it clear that any opportunity was on the table and that they’d have her full support no matter which direction she chose. Again, fueled by a deep longing to get as far away from the terrors she’d experienced on Earth, Banshee chose to enter the pilot training program where she could learn to fly Comet fighters. Soaring at high speeds through the vacuum of space appealed greatly to her and she thrived in the program, finishing at the top of her class. Banshee had been a pilot for almost five years now and should’ve moved through the ranks quickly, but unfortunately, she discovered that no matter how far away from Earth she got, she could not outrun the ghosts of her past. Someway somehow, they always seemed to catch up to her and bring out her worst.
Lieutenant Carter had given her a security badge that doubled as the key to her cabin. When she arrived at the metal door, she hovered the badge over a blinking red light. The metal door slid open, revealing an apartment that measured approximately 20 feet by 20 feet. In the corner there was a tiny bathroom, but no shower. It had been explained to her that there was a bathhouse assigned for all women on her level, but a private toilet would be available in her cabin. There was a small kitchenette against the right wall with a small refrigerator, sink, and stove top. On the back wall, there was a table that she noticed could be folded back into the wall and in front of that there was a sofa and television. On the left wall she found her bed and noticed that it too could be folded away into the wall, though she couldn’t think of a good reason to do it. The cabin, she had to admit, was better than what she had expected, but what she was most proud of was the small round window that allowed her a view of space.
Once she dropped her bag on the bed, she walked over to the couch and turned it so that she would be facing that window. What was going on out there may have seemed bland and boring to many of her other shipmates, but to her, it was beautiful, mysterious and far more interesting than anything going on in her television. Banshee returned to her bed and unzipped the large military gray bag. Inside, she pulled a picture frame out and stared at it wistfully for a moment. As she looked at the man and woman in the photo she began to feel moisture welling up in her eyes. It was the only picture she’d managed to get of her mother and father. Her biggest regret was that they were not there to see what she was now achieving. She hoped they would be proud of her.
After unpacking, Banshee decided to explore the rest of the ship. Her cabin, along with all the other Comet pilots, was found on the fourth deck. The sleeping quarters made up only a small portion of the fourth deck and she assumed that it must have been reserved for pilots only. Being on the fourth deck was fine with her because as she explored the rest of it, she found that it was the place to be for rest, relaxation and fun. The cafeteria was found there, along with a bar, gym, and recreation room that included a small movie theatre. She paid particular attention to the bar because she was certain she’d be spending a great deal of time there. She was pleasantly surprised to find it was already operational with a bartender there to greet her.
“Welcome aboard ma’am,” the man said in a southern accent. “I’m Rayford Compton, but just call me Ray.” Ray was tall, thin, and had a healthy mop of dark hair on top of his head. He wore horn-rimmed black glasses with eyes to match and appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties.
She noticed him eyeing her head to toe. He seemed to be particularly interested in her buzzed haircut. “Alright, nice to meet you Ray,” Banshee said. “I’m Merissa Voight, but I prefer you just call me Banshee.”
Ray nodded and smiled. “Banshee, eh? You must be one of the pilots we picked up on Mars.”
She nodded. “You guessed it Ray. Are you a S.A.M.A. member?”
“Oh, yes ma’am,” he said with a serious nod. “It’s my understanding everyone that will be on this ship is. I’m mostly an old pencil pusher, but I ran the bar on the Lunar colony. Must’ve done a pretty good job since they offered me this gig,” he added with a chuckle.
“And this is all you’ll be doing here?” Banshee asked, sounding surprised.
Ray grabbed a glass and began polishing it. “Well, not completely,” he said. “You’ll probably see me helping up in the cafeteria from time to time.” He paused as he noticed her watching him polish the glass. “Hey, can I get you anything?” he asked proudly.
Banshee smiled. “No thanks, Ray,” she said. “But I promise you I’ll be back.”
Ray nodded and looked on as she walked away.
After she explored the rest of the fourth deck, she decided to move up to the third deck instead of down to the fifth deck. She already knew the fifth deckwas comprised of nothing but engineering and figured she could check it out another time. Once on the third deck, she found that it was mostly comprised of more cabins, but what she really wanted to check out was the two launching bays that flanked either side. To her dismay, she found the doors locked and no one around to grant her access.
Once she arrived on the second deck, she found that it was where she could go to seek treatment if she became ill or injured. There were a couple of laboratories along with officer quart
ers, and the captain’s cabin. She also noticed a sign painted on the wall with an arrow pointing toward the armory, but decided it probably would not be best for someone to find her mulling around there. She’d encountered a lot of crew members on the fourth deck, and almost just as many on the second. The only difference was that on the second deck, she truly felt out of place. The stares that many of the crew members, from both men and women, that were working the second deck gave her made her feel even more out of place. She quickly retreated to the elevator where she ascended to the top deck.
She was surprised to find that when the doors opened, she was on the bridge. There were numerous officers and other crew members scurrying about and all seemed to have some sort of task. In the center of the chaos, and staring out the large viewing port on the front of the bridge, she found General Porter Buchanon. He seemed oblivious to the organized chaos around him.
“Ms. Voight?” a man’s voice called out from her right.
Banshee peered over to find Lieutenant Carter approaching. “Everything alright? Do you need anything?”
She licked her lips and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just exploring the ship.”
“Did you find your cabin alright?” Carter asked. He seemed genuine to her, something she wasn’t used to.
“I did, thank you,” Banshee replied. “It’s very nice.”
Carter smiled widely. “Yeah, I think they’re quite nice myself.” He paused a moment and surveyed their surroundings. “It’s not always going to be like this,” he said, leaning closer to where only she could hear him.
She nodded as they watched people continue to scurry around them in all directions. “I was wondering,” she admitted.
“No, it’s just like this because this is basically her maiden voyage. We are gathering all kinds of data so that General Harry Hightower will be able to review it with the engineers once we arrive at Titan.”
“I see,” she said. “Well, if there is anything I can do to help…”