by Lance Berry
A concussion blast went off a short ways in front of him, and he squinted through the dirt shower, observing another figure standing still. It was Theo, holding position at the top of the next hill. His Blastrifle was raised, but he wasn’t aiming at any of the sentries. He was standing perfectly still, as was Travis, and it seemed as if he was waiting for something…
Anthony Chang crested the next small rise, heading upwards to higher ground.
In a split second, Travis realized what was going to happen: In all the confusion, and out of sight of the drill sergeant and cadets, Theo was going to shoot Chang in the back. Theo could then move, letting the nearest sentry target and hit him; he could claim later that in the confusion, he was struck and his gun misfired, shooting Chang. No one could contest it, because there would be no witnesses.
Theo Booker was going to kill Anthony Chang.
Travis had to do something–there was only a moment or so to act. But what could he do? If he moved, the sentries would target him, and they might actually hit him before he could stop Theo. But even if they didn’t, what could he do? It was too loud for him to shout out, either to distract Theo or to warn Chang or alert Macavee. And the only other option would be to shoot Theo…but then what? If he did, Travis would face separation at least, prison at most. But if he didn’t, and Macavee found out that Travis did nothing, he would be facing the same bleak future.
He had to think, but there was no time. Chang was moving closer into the position Theo wanted, and the hopelessly angry young man’s finger was tightening on the trigger.
“Travis! Travis, MOVE!”
Travis spun around, startled to see Danielle cresting the hill just behind him. She obviously didn’t expect to see him here either, thinking he must have already moved on. Without warning, a blue-white ball of energy struck Danielle, and her eyes popped wide as the plasma grenade hit her dead on. She fell to the ground, babbling incoherently, drool running out of the side of her mouth. It suddenly came to Travis that he had moved; his heart leapt into his throat, he spun around–and was blown off his feet by a concussion charge that went off only an inch or so away from him.
He tumbled forward down the small rise, rolling on his side a few feet, until he landed at the foot of the hill. He looked up, saw Theo about to fire, and shot to his feet, taking swift aim.
Travis fired once, grazing Theo on the leg–but a beam of charged coherent light grazing someone is bound to take every last bit of attention away from anything else that person is doing. Theo cried out, fell onto his back and clutched his leg in agony, his Blastrifle unfired.
And after that, Travis knew nothing else, as he suddenly felt the hair all over his body stand on end, and a bright white light seemed to come from behind his very eyes as the taser cannon’s bolt struck him. His teeth ground together, he tried to speak but couldn’t, then fell on his back, convulsing. And he was actually thankful as his eyes closed and the deafening sounds of the obstacle course faded away, smothered in a veil of darkness.
Chapter 17
Travis was shocked awake by a blast of cold water in his face. He sat bolt upright, looking about wildly. He managed to calm himself as he recognized the faces of his training cadre and other classmates. It was very quiet all of a sudden, and Travis realized the obstacle course had been shut down. All the weapons were now turned off, and the silence sounded strangely foreign to him now. Macavee was standing over him, an empty pail in his hands, droplets of water dripping off its side. Travis glanced around; he didn’t see Theo anywhere.
“Cadet Rand,” Macavee said angrily through gritted teeth, “you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
Class was dismissed, and Macavee relieved Travis of his Blastrifle and took him to the second floor of Sanderson Administration. They went to Macavee’s office, where he put in a call to Travis’ teachers, letting them know that Travis would possibly miss all classes for the rest of the day. Macavee then summoned Colonel Wentwell to his office. He told Travis to sit down, and didn’t say one word to him the entire time they waited.
When Wentwell finally arrived, Macavee explained to him that Travis had shot Theo, but made no mention of any other pertinent information. According to Macavee, all that could be seen from his and the class’ point of view was Travis standing at the base of one of the hills, firing at Theo from behind. Just as the taser cannon’s bolt hit Travis, Macavee had given the order to shut down the gauntlet. Wentwell was surprised by all this, and asked Travis for an explanation, but the young man choked up. He didn’t know how to respond, or how much to say about the relationship between Chang and Theo. If he told on Theo, he’d be ruining his military career based on evidence only he had witnessed on the obstacle course. Chang hadn’t seen Theo aim at him, so he couldn’t back Travis up. All Theo had to do was say Travis was mistaken, and that would probably be enough for them to decide to separate him.
I am so dead, he thought morosely.
“Cadet, I am asking you for an explanation,” Wentwell said forcefully.
Travis’ shoulders sagged, and he shook his head in defeat. “I…I don’t have an explanation for you at this time, sir.”
Wentwell’s eyes widened slightly, and there was almost a look of hurt in them, as if Travis had somehow personally betrayed him. The colonel and Macavee shared a look, and the former turned to Travis once more. “We’ll resume this tomorrow, Mister Rand,” he said ominously. “As for now, consider yourself confined to quarters. Except for hitting the head, you are not to leave your room. Your dinner will be brought to you. And you are not to have company of any kind, and I will see to it that your bunkmates are informed as well, to keep them from trying to circumvent my orders by having company of their own come over. And if I were you, I’d start dusting off my suitcases. Dismissed.”
Travis got to his feet, came to attention and saluted. Neither officer returned. Crestfallen, Travis lowered his hand and quietly left the room.
Travis sat alone in his quarters, staring out the window for hours. Outside, other cadets hurried to class, sat on benches or under trees laughing and talking, or studying quietly. Francis came in once to get a dsp he left on his bed, and seemed almost embarrassed to look at Travis.
“What’s the scuttlebutt, Francis?”
Francis didn’t answer at first. He tried to avoid Travis’ gaze as he picked up the dsp. “We’re not allowed to talk to you, Travis. That’s as much as Wentwell said I could say to you.” He reached the door but stopped in his tracks, trying to decide whether to ignore the rules a moment. He turned back to Travis. “Everyone’s talking about what happened out there. No one knows what to make of it. Everybody pretty much knows you and Theo have had your dust-ups, but shit, man–!”
“They think I would shoot him over it?” Travis shouted as he stood, and Francis took a step back. “Man, how stupid is that! And besides, I’m one of the best sharpshooters in class! If I wanted to do something serious to him, I wouldn’t have grazed him, for damn sure!”
He huffed, exasperated, and tried to speak in a calmer tone. “What do you think?”
Francis considered the question, and finally shook his head in a noncommittal manner. “Sometimes, I don’t think I know anything.” His eyes lowered a bit, and he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Travis plopped himself down into his chair once more and sat for a long while, considering what he would do if indeed the facts never came out, and he was chosen for separation. He had no marketable skills for the private sector, so the only thing he could possibly do would be to attend a remedial college for those types of students who couldn’t make the regular cut at being a soldier. He hated the thought of it; sitting in a class with a bunch of physically lower numbskulls who either didn’t have the heart or wherewithal to make it in the UEF military. He sighed, wondering how much damage this might do to his father’s psyche if–make that when–he heard the news.
About six o’clock, there was a knock at the door. Travis had tried dozing off, but
he was too hungry to do so. His stomach was growling, and he hadn’t been this anxious to eat since he underwent demonstrative discipline the year before. He didn’t want to say “come in”, on the off chance it was Wentwell, testing to see whether his quarantine order was being obeyed, so he instead went to the door and opened it. A plebe stood in the hallway, holding a covered dinner tray. “Cadet Rand?”
Travis nodded eagerly. “Your dinner, sir,” the plebe said, and extended the tray to him. Travis took it, offered appreciative thanks, and hurried over to set it on one of the tables.
“Sir–?”
Now Travis was annoyed. Why the hell was this kid still here? “Yeah?”
The plebe nibbled on his lower lip a moment. “I’m not supposed to say anything, sir. But…well…a couple of juniors stopped me on the way here. I’d be careful if I were you, sir.”
Travis’ brow furrowed. He pulled the cover off the tray, revealing a couple of chicken legs, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, milk and a jell-o cube. Travis took a close look, and realized that mixed in with the gravy were some hunking gobs of phlegm. Moving aside the beans with his fork revealed some dried snot underneath them. Travis frowned, and examined the chicken wings. They seemed alright enough, and the jell-o and milk container seemed inviolate. At least he wouldn’t totally starve tonight.
“Cows, kid,” Travis said quietly, not looking back at the plebe. “Juniors are called cows.”
Francis and Chang came back to the room around eight-thirty. Theo wasn’t with them, and Travis assumed he would spend the night in the infirmary. Even with modern medicine, a hit from a laser was no small thing to just get over. Neither boy said anything to Travis when they entered, but Chang just looked at him curiously a moment. Travis didn’t speak, not wanting to possibly get either one of them in trouble, should Wentwell happen to pass the room. Travis had to admit to himself he was disappointed that Danielle at least didn’t try to contact him via vid-com or e-mail, but she was probably very mad at him for making her unintentionally take a plasma burst. The room’s silence was a bit more than Travis could take, so he went to the head and stayed there until Taps played. When he came back to the room, his bunkmates were already in bed, so he got under his own covers and did his best to fall asleep. It took a long time, but he finally did drop off.
The next day, immediately after reveille and morning inspection, Colonel Wentwell brought Travis to General Wintemberg’s office, where Macavee sat waiting for them with the General. Travis came to attention and saluted. To his relief, Wintemberg returned. “Have a seat, Cadet,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his across the desk. Wentwell took a seat on Travis’ right side, as Macavee was already sitting to Travis’ left.
Wintemberg leaned forward in his chair and folded his hands on the desk. “Cadet Rand. What are the first and fifth rules in the United Earth Force Uniform Code of Conduct?”
Travis didn’t even have to think about it. “Rule one: ‘A cadet will not lie, cheat or steal, or tolerate those who do’. Rule five: ‘The days of racism and sexism are done. Under penalty of separation, you will never, in any way, verbally or physically threaten or harm another cadet or civilian, based on their race, gender or sexual preference’.”
“Very good,” Wintemberg said in an even tone. “Now answer me very honestly. Do you, in your heart, believe in those two principles?”
Travis nodded slowly but firmly. “Yes, sir. I do.”
“Okay. Then why did you stand by and do nothing, all the times that Theo Booker made inflammatory, racist comments to Anthony Chang?”
Travis’ mouth opened, but no words came out. He was surprised, first of all, that Wintemberg knew anything about the tensions between Chang and Theo. But he also had no idea how to respond to the question. “I didn’t do nothing, sir. I spoke up. I almost got into a fight with Theo over it.”
Wintemberg’s lips curled downward just slightly, and Travis immediately postulated that he had been busted: if the General knew about the arguments Theo and Chang had, then obviously he knew that Travis had indeed come to blows with Theo over the matter. Yet Wintemberg chose to ignore the half-truth. “But you did do nothing, Travis. You had ample opportunity to go to Colonel Wentwell and inform him of the matter. It would have been dealt with, and the incident yesterday would never have happened.”
“We have vid-recorders on the field, Travis,” Macavee said in a calm, measured tone as he picked up the ball from Wintemberg. It was the closest Travis had ever heard Macavee sound like an actual human, rather than an overly hyper football coach. “One of them happened to catch exactly the right angle for us to figure out what Theo was up to. And the first Cadet to finish the slalom–a transfer student named Marion Holmes– happened to see everything. She came forward yesterday afternoon, after class. I had to confer with the General and examine the vid evidence first, before taking her story into account.”
“Be absolutely certain you thank Miss Holmes, the next time you see her,” Wentwell sternly told Travis.
Travis was astonished, to say the least. His fears started to melt away. “Then…I’m okay?” he said to Wintemberg. “I’m off the hook?”
“No,” Wintemberg shook his head firmly. “’A cadet will not lie, cheat or steal, or tolerate those who do’. Each time Booker insulted Chang, hurled ethnic slurs at him, he was stealing a part of that young man’s dignity. His pride. Maybe his hope that he would ever be accepted by anyone, apart from the history of his grandfather. Each time this happened you, Travis, were guilty by default. Because you didn’t step up to the plate and tell one of your superiors what was happening. What is the second rule in the Code of Conduct?”
Travis’ head lowered slightly in shame as the rule came to him. “’You are now part of a unit. That unit is now your family. A soldier will always kill or die for their family.’”
“’Part of a unit. That unit is now your family’,” Wentwell repeated. “You have to defend your family by whatever means, whenever the situation arises, Travis. It’s not ratting on a friend that you would’ve been doing if you came to me. You would have been protecting a brother.” Wentwell crossed his legs as he sat up a little. “I understand that in spite of his prejudice, Booker was dating cadet Christina King.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that the two broke up shortly after this semester began?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I interviewed Booker last night, in the infirmary. He and Miss King argued quite a bit about his stance on Chang and Asians in general. She was quite fond of Booker, but he was unable to get past his preconceptions on the supposed untrustworthiness of Asians…or his belief in the stereotype of the dutiful, subservient Asian woman. He believed that it was Miss King’s duty to go into work in the private sector rather than fulfill her military career, and stay home raising their children while he went to war. His plan for their relationship was nothing more than a hot meal from his barefoot and pregnant wife when he came home on shore leave. Were you aware of that?”
“No,” Travis said, genuinely surprised.
“Naturally, Booker blamed Anthony Chang for the breakup with King. That was the final unhinging for him, and why he decided to take care of Chang on the obstacle course. If it wasn’t for your decisive action, he would have done it, too.”
“But I’m still not in the clear, because I never told any of you.”
“Do you think you should be?” Wintemberg asked.
Travis considered a moment before answering earnestly, “No, sir. I don’t. I should have said something earlier, and I was misguided. I didn’t want to wreck anyone else’s career, but I should’ve done everything I could to protect Anthony, who is my brother.”
The three officers looked to one another, satisfied. “I believe the young man’s learned his lesson,” Macavee told the others. Wintemberg uncrossed his fingers and leaned back once more. “True enough. But with any lesson-any hard lesson in life–there are consequences. And with consequences comes p
ayment for such knowledge. Cadet Rand–ATTENSHUN!”
Travis jumped to his feet, coming to attention immediately. Wintemberg rose, and the other officers stood as well. “Cadet Travis Xavier Rand. Your quarantine is over. You can resume your classes and you may freely move among your classmates once more. In spite of your heroic actions on behalf of your roommate, you must still be penalized for your earlier inaction to inform your immediate superior of highly serious infractions of the UEFUCOC. Ten demerits, standing as of now.”
“Ten demerits!” Travis couldn’t help but blurt out. The officers stared at him, and a small huff of air escaped his lips before he could stop it. “Forgive me, General…sirs! But I’m only a yearling! I have two more years to go, and if I get ten more demerits in that time, I won’t pass from the school!”
Wintemberg nodded soberly. “That’s absolutely right, Cadet. I guess this means you’d better be very, very careful from here on out.”
The group was dismissed, and Macavee went to his own office while Wentwell and Travis left the Administration building. The two had their own destinations to go to, but they walked on the same path for a short while. The sky had become overcast, which was a rarity at this time of year; the so-called “June Gloom” had long passed. After a little bit, Travis got up the courage to ask, “So what’s going to happen to Theo?”
“He’s already been separated. We’ve informed his parents, because he’s being held in stockade at Clinton-Reese Military Base in El Cajon, pending trial.”
“Trial?”
“Attempted murder is a very serious thing, Cadet. Don’t worry; the recording we have clearly shows what Booker was up to. And Cadet Holmes’ sworn affidavit is the clincher. You won’t have to testify before the JAG. More than likely, Booker will get a long term in prison.”
“But he’s only seventeen…”
Wentwell stopped abruptly and jabbed a finger pointedly into Travis’ chest. “He had the faculties to attempt to commit an adult crime. He therefore has the responsibility to accept adult punishment. You’re a good cadet, Rand, but you need to get your head out of your ass when it comes to this abhorrent naïveté in relation to how the world really works, that you insist on displaying!”