by Linn Schwab
“Oh no!” the lieutenant gasped, seeing Mindy spread out on the floor with the broken rung lying at her side. She scrambled to a nearby intercom panel and slapped a button to place the station on alert. Yellow lights began to flash throughout Volaris, and an emergency buzzer signaled a change in status. Veronica leaned in close to the intercom and her voice soon rang out over the station’s address system. “Medical emergency!” she yelled. “Assistance required, level twenty, ladder twelve!” She then rushed to Robin’s side to see if she could be of any assistance. “Help is on the way,” she assured her. “They’ll be here any second now.”
Robin hovered over Mindy’s bed in the infirmary, anxiously awaiting Major Richards’ diagnosis. Mindy had regained consciousness while being carried on the stretcher, but there was still some uncertainty regarding the extent of her injuries. She didn’t seem to have suffered any broken bones, and there were no apparent signs of internal bleeding. As Major Richards filled a syringe with medication, she finally shared her conclusion with Robin.
“Just a mild concussion,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “And perhaps some bruised ribs. Nothing to be too concerned about. She’s very fortunate, though. That was quite a fall she took.”
“What’s that?” Robin asked, looking at the syringe.
“This,” the major explained, “is going to prevent her brain from swelling and causing any permanent damage. I’ve combined it with another dose of sedative so she can sleep her way through some of the discomfort.”
“Mindy,” Robin said, looking down at her friend, “you’ve got to stop doing this to me. You’re going to kill me with worry.”
“I’m sorry,” Mindy whispered, managing a painful smile for her.
Major Richards stepped over to the bed and guided the syringe into Mindy’s arm. Mindy winced and turned her head away as she waited for the sedative to take effect.
“No battleship laps for at least a few days,” the major told her, as if it were some form of deprivation. “You need some time to recover from this. Don’t do anything too strenuous, alright?”
“Alright,” Mindy said. The major gave her an affectionate pat on the belly, then moved away to discard the syringe.
Mindy stared at the wall beside her bed with a look of uncertainty and hurt in her eyes. She had not failed to recognize the fact that the broken rung had been attached to one of them. Could this have been a deliberate act on their part? Were they trying to send her a message? Or had they finally decided just to finish her off? Either way, it saddened her to think that they might do something intended to harm her.
Major Richards stepped out of the room, leaving Robin and Mindy alone for a moment. As Robin sat down on the edge of the bed, Mindy looked up at her with a subtle expression of pleading in her eyes.
“Don’t worry, Mindy,” Robin reassured her. “I’m right here.”
With the sedative now starting to take effect on her, Mindy began to wonder if she might never wake up. The wall was so close to the side of her bed that she could easily reach over and touch it. If their intent was indeed to finish her off, the sedative would soon render her helpless before them, placing her entirely at their mercy. “Robin,” she strained herself to whisper, desperate to accomplish one final objective, “…will you kiss me?”
The request took Robin by surprise. She struggled for a moment to make sense of it. Her thoughts returned to the question Mindy had asked earlier, that she had so casually brushed aside. What exactly does Mindy have in mind, she wondered. Her thoughts were a whirling tangle of uncertainty.
Determined not to disappoint Mindy, Robin leaned down over her, still wrestling with the question of how she should respond. As her face drew closer to Mindy’s, she could see that her eyelids were beginning to drift shut. Surrendering to her own feelings for guidance, she placed her lips on Mindy’s forehead and held them in place for a few heartfelt seconds. Curious to see if that would satisfy her, she ended her kiss with a subtle emphasis, then slowly leaned back away from her. But she would never receive an answer to her question. Mindy had already fallen asleep.
PERSPECTIVES 023
Immediately following the accident, workouts were restricted for several days as repair crews inspected every rung loop on Volaris. Instead of running battleship laps, the girls had been instructed to follow continuous circuits on a single level of their own choice. Finally, on the third day after Mindy’s fall, Commander Jeffries issued her approval for the resumption of normal battleship laps. Now, as the others began their midday workout, Mindy sat alone in the observation lounge with the blanket from her bed wrapped around herself. She was still under orders from Major Richards to avoid unnecessary strenuous activities. To make use of her time, she was studying an extensive list of guidelines for communications protocol.
Standing just outside the lounge, several members of Mindy’s sister squadron quietly observed her from behind as she studied.
“Poor Mindy,” Nancy whispered. “I feel so sorry for her.”
“I’m really worried about her,” Trixie said. “The poor girl’s afraid of her own shadow.”
Zoe sighed. “I wish there was something we could do to help her. She probably won’t last very long as a pilot. I’d hate to be there the first time she fires up a fighter. If something doesn’t change for her, it isn’t going to be a very pretty sight.”
Kelli searched her feelings as she looked in at Mindy. For some reason, she felt a special connection to her. There was something about Mindy’s personality that reminded her of her younger self. If any of them could manage to get through to Mindy, Kelli decided it would probably be her.
“She’s still a part of Robin’s squad,” Nancy said. “Whatever’s going to happen to Mindy in the future, we still need to teach her how to handle her position. One of us is going to have to work with her, no matter how badly we might feel for her.”
“I’ll teach her,” Kelli volunteered. “Let me work with her.”
Nancy raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
Kelli looked at Mindy again and nodded. “Yeah. I think I can help her.”
“Alright,” Nancy agreed. “She’s all yours. Good luck.”
Kelli moved forward and stepped inside the lounge. Mindy still didn’t seem to be aware of her presence. There was something about the spot where Mindy was sitting that struck Kelli as being a little odd. Aside from just the two of them, the lounge was completely empty at the moment. There were empty seats in every corner of the room, including the more desirable ones with spectacular views of the universe. Yet Mindy was sitting in the one location that was as far from the windows as she could possibly get. Why would she do that? Kelli wondered. Is there something about the windows that frightens her?
Curious, she walked over to the windows, searching for any hint of what might be troubling Mindy. There seemed to be nothing unusual about the view. Just the normal vistas of distant star clusters. No cracks or visible signs of weakness in the window panes. But when she stepped right up next to the windows, she noticed she could look down and see Valhalla, glowing in its full radiant glory, far below the dim lights of Volaris. She let out a sudden, quiet gasp, and turned back around to look at Mindy. I know what she’s afraid of, she told herself. It’s the same thing I was afraid of.
PRELUDE 024
Looking out through a window at one end of the spur, Robin followed the progress of an approaching destroyer as it swung around and prepared to dock with the station. Jenny had spotted the ship while conversing in the lounge and offered to give Robin an unscheduled tour. The two of them had then scrambled down to the spur level in the hopes of observing a docking procedure.
Protruding from the station’s midsection, the spur enabled external docking for craft that were too large to fit inside the hangar. There were three spurs evenly spaced around Volaris, but since the station was operating at reduced capacity, only one of them was currently in use. Each of the three spurs was equipped with four airlocks, and provi
ded ample space for transferring freight and munitions. It was here that destroyers would back up against the station to deliver supplies or rearm if necessary.
A series of loud bumps shook the spur as the destroyer made contact with one of the docks. After a few seconds, the ship settled into place and its moorings engaged with a resounding thump.
“Pretty simple, actually,” Jenny explained. “Just make sure you’re lined up properly, and that you don’t back up too quickly. The magnetic moorings are pretty straightforward. They’re either on or they’re off — just the flip of a switch. Then, once your ship is secured, you just open your cargo doors and you’ll be looking right at the airlock.”
A warning light on the airlock started flashing. The inner doors released and began to slide open.
“Let’s go,” Jenny prompted, ushering Robin forward. “We’ll have to ask the captain’s permission to board.”
When the doors were fully open, several girls stepped out from the ship — all of them wearing destroyer uniforms. Robin recognized the captain right away. The girl with four academic stars on her beret.
“There’s the captain,” Robin said, pointing at Delia.
“You think so?” Jenny asked. “How can you tell?”
Robin grinned. “Trust me, I know.”
“Alright, if you say so. Captain!” Jenny called out to Delia. “Have you got a few seconds?”
Delia stopped and turned to face her. “Yes?” she replied.
Jenny approached her and gestured toward Robin. “This is Captain Starling,” she said. “I’d like to show her around your ship if you don’t mind.”
Delia flashed an understanding smile at Robin. “Christening flight coming up pretty soon?”
Robin nodded politely.
“You’re very fortunate,” Delia said. She glanced back over her shoulder at her ship. “That’s the finest destroyer in the Sentinel Fleet. Just be careful what you touch, though, alright? She has a lot of things that go ‘boom’ on board.”
“Okay,” Robin agreed, then watched as Delia walked away with her crew.
“Well,” Jenny remarked sarcastically, “she’s not the least bit conceited, is she!”
Robin grinned at her and said, “I think she’s just very proud of her ship.”
“Oh, is that why she wears all those stars on her hat!”
Robin laughed. “Come on,” she said, pulling Jenny toward the airlock. “Show me everything I need to know. Maybe this’ll be my ship someday.”
Stepping for the first time into a destroyer, Robin was surprised to discover how closely its interior resembled that of a space station. The walls were covered with hoses and conduits, similar to those one would see on Volaris. If anything, there’d been even less of an effort to conceal them here, leaving them accessible for hasty repairs.
“This is the cargo bay,” Jenny explained. “Everything enters the ship through here. Supplies, fuel, munitions. Everything. Even the crew enters and leaves through here. The room can also be sealed and depressurized so you can open the cargo doors in flight. That makes it possible to perform space walks, make external repairs, recover probes, and so on.
“The ship’s main engines are directly below us, and span nearly the entire length of the hull. There are access corridors on either side of the cargo bay, which allow for maintenance and observation.”
Jenny walked toward the front of the compartment and led Robin through a large bulkhead, into an adjacent corridor. A series of pressure doors lined the corridor, each of which bore a descriptive label.
“This is the mechanical heart of your ship,” Jenny said, pointing to the doors as she walked through the passageway. “Generators, pumps, hydraulics, life support. All the subjects of your favorite repair procedures, right?”
Robin groaned and rolled her eyes. It was bad enough just learning how to operate a ship without having to know how to fix everything. But Commander Jeffries had made it clear to the girls that for every hour they spent learning how to operate these systems, they’d spend several more hours learning how to repair them. As yet, though, the topic of repairs had only been touched on briefly since the main focus for now was just learning how to fly. There’d been a few brief lessons on welding and soldering, but no detailed instruction on troubleshooting procedures.
Just to the left of the first bulkhead door was another that led toward the front of the ship. Jenny touched a control panel on the wall, prompting the door to slide open for her. “Here’s the magazine,” she said. Robin peered in from the corridor. “You can see how the torpedo tubes are offset to account for the angled nose of the ship. The racks of reloads are stacked here along the rear wall, and straddle the tracks of the auto–reloader. Each firing tube has its own track of rollers. If one of them becomes inoperable, an adjacent track can sometimes compensate for it. Depending on the extent of the damage, of course.”
Robin nodded to indicate she understood.
“Let’s climb up to the bridge,” Jenny suggested, pointing directly up at the ceiling. Just outside the magazine door was a ladder stretching upward to another small corridor. At the center of that corridor, facing the nose of the ship, was an open bulkhead that led to the bridge.
“Alright,” Jenny said, “here we are. Just as you imagined it, right?”
Robin studied the interior of the bridge, trying to take in as many details as she could. The seats were covered in black upholstery, but everything else was either metal or glass. In the center of the room was a freestanding console which was shared by the ship’s captain and radio operator. There were reinforced windows on the front and side walls, and overhead monitors showing various exterior views. Beneath all of the windows were banks of consoles covered with a myriad of gauges and switches.
“It seems kind of dark in here,” Robin commented.
Jenny shrugged. “She’s asleep right now. You need a key to wake her up.” She reached into her breast pocket and withdrew her key, then raised her index finger to her lips. “Shh,” she signaled to Robin. “I’m going to commandeer Delia’s ship.” She flashed a mischievous grin at Robin and slid her key into the ignition slot.
A cascade of illumination swept across the bridge as gauges and status lights flared to life. The air was filled with a symphony of beeps and chirps, and the unmistakable whirring of complex machinery steadily spinning up to operating speed. A pleasant–sounding, disembodied female voice clearly and precisely announced, “CVS Calypso, Congo–class destroyer, Captain Jenny McNeil commanding.”
Robin’s eyes shot open in wonder. “You did all that just by inserting a key?”
“Absolutely. Pretty dramatic change, isn’t it?”
Robin nodded and looked around the bridge in fascination. “But you’re a squadron captain,” she said in confusion, “not a destroyer captain.”
“And you’re just a squad captain,” Jenny reminded her. “Robin, give me your key for a moment.”
Robin pulled her key out and handed it to her. Jenny held the key up in a gesture of display, then removed her own key from the ignition socket and quickly replaced it with Robin’s key. A brief hiccup in power ensued during the transition, then the same pleasant female voice as before announced, “CVS Calypso, Congo–class destroyer, Captain Robin Starling commanding.”
Robin gasped in surprise. Her eyes opened wide in disbelief. She felt a swell of emotion rise up inside her — a surprising mixture of pride and humility. Two feelings so diametrically opposed that she would never have guessed they could coexist together. Overwhelmed by a momentary tingly sensation, she leaned against the back of the captain’s chair for support.
“Wow,” she said, drawing in a deep breath. “People have been calling me that since I was eight years old. It’s funny how a machine can make it sound so much more important.”
Jenny rested her hand on Robin’s shoulder. “Interesting observation,” she said. “It never would have occurred to me.”
“Weren’t you a squad c
aptain too?” Robin asked.
“No, I was never a squad captain. Or a destroyer captain. I only became a captain as a result of attrition in my fighter squadron.”
“Oh,” Robin said, her voice tinged with sorrow. It was clear to her what Jenny meant by “attrition.” Both of them reflected in silence for a moment.
“So,” Jenny said, “what should we go over, now that we’re here?”
Robin’s eyes scanned the bridge for something of interest. On the rear wall was a large red handle, partially concealed by a protective metal cage. The word ‘SCUTTLE’ was neatly stenciled across the handle. It was a word Robin was unfamiliar with. “What does this one do?” she asked. Its location seemed a little odd to her, being so far removed from any other controls.
“Don’t ever mess with that one,” Jenny cautioned her. “That’s the control that blows up the ship.”
Robin looked at her in confusion. “Why would you want to blow up your own ship?”
“I have no idea. But that’s what it does, for whatever reason. Just don’t be tempted to test it, okay?”
Robin shuddered. “Show me something else.”
“Okay. Well, you know the layout. Captain and communications operator sit here in the center. Directly in front of you is the helm operator. You can see she has a variety of controls that allow her to fly the ship. She can use push–button mode for normal flight, or she can use the manual controls when flying into combat.
“To her left is Michelle’s station. Navigations. Pretty much just a standard computer console. To the right of the helm is Katrina’s station — auxiliaries. And then along the starboard side are the systems and weapons consoles, where Sheri and Phoebe are going to be sitting. Any questions?”