The Blunt End of the Service

by L. J. Simpson

  “Sir?”

  “A local emergency, Mr. Poulson. One step down from martial law.”

  “Oh,” said Chuck in surprise. “That serious?”

  “Indeed it is, Mr. Poulson, indeed it is. Preliminary investigations indicate that the recent mishaps on Phoenix are not consistent with random malfunctions.”

  “You mean…”

  “Exactly, Mr. Poulson. Treachery. Damned sabotage!” He spat out the last word with such venom that Lt. Primrose took a step backwards. Chuck wasn’t sure if it was through surprise, or just to avoid the commodore’s airborne saliva.

  “Could I ask the commodore why sabotage is suspected?” asked Chuck.

  “I’m afraid that information is classified, Mr. Poulson. Very hush-hush. The walls have ears, you know,” he said, looking furtively over his shoulder. Chuck couldn’t help but follow his gaze. The commodore did have a certain compelling manner. “Don’t worry, Mr. Poulson. Rest assured you’ll be informed on a need to know basis.”

  “Yes, of course. I quite understand,” replied Chuck. “Well, if I can be of any assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask.” Then hoping to make an exit he began to rise from his chair.

  “That’s exactly why I asked to see you, Poulson,” said Jacks, suddenly dropping the Mister, which was enough to keep Chuck seated. “As of today I’m assuming command of this station. Commander Jacobs will retain his present rank and act as my second in command. In order to avoid any confusion in the chain of command, I’m activating your status as an auxiliary officer in the Local Defense Force. You will assume the rank of Sub-Captain forthwith!”

  An officer? Sub-Captain? Local Defense Force? This isn’t going to plan, thought Chuck.

  “You will, for the time being, continue with your normal duties, but as the situation demands you will come under my direct authority. Is that clearly understood?”

  “Well, err, yes. I expect that… I mean…”

  “Good,” said Jacks. “Raise your right hand and repeat after me.” Chuck obliged.

  “I, state full name.”

  “I, st… Charles Armitage Poulson.”

  “Do solemnly swear to obey orders and do my duty.”

  “Do solemnly swear to obey orders and do my duty,” repeated Chuck.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Poulson!” I hereby promote you to the rank of Sub-Captain with all the rights and privileges thereto.”

  “That’s it?” wondered Chuck out loud. “I was expecting something a little more… well, convoluted.”

  “Well, that’s the ceremonial stuff out of the way, but we will be needing you to sign the written copy which is… ah, thanks Adj. Full signature on the top page and initial here, here, here, here and… here.” The commodore briskly leafed through a small mountain of papers.

  “Err, this does seem a rather long document for ‘obey orders and do my duty’, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir”

  “Oh, just the usual legal jargon, Poulson. Lots of mumbo-jumbo written by a bunch of deskbound nannies with no idea of what goes on at the sharp end of the service. Just be a good fellow and let’s get on with it.”

  “Well, if you have no objections sir, I’d appreciate the time to, um, familiarize myself with the contents of the commission. Don’t want to let anyone down, you see,” said Chuck.

  “Nonsense, nonsense, Poulson,” said the commodore with smile. “Dash it man, you’ve been offered a place of honor! Wouldn’t like to see any reluctance on your part.” He paused for effect, but as Chuck continued to stare at the sheaf of papers on the desk a distinct frown began to form across his brow. “And I should advise you that in the event that you decline this commission, you will be automatically re-classified as non-combatant, your civilian status precluding any continued service aboard this military space station.”

  “Sir?”

  “Simply put, Poulson, you can either take up the post of Sub-Captain or take up a seat on the next available transport out of here. Adj?”

  Lt. Primrose tapped a few buttons on her data pad. “The next vessel would appear to be the Grunhilder, commodore. An unladen ore carrier on its way to the Panaxia system. And it seems that the Grunhilder, lacking a Quantum drive, will take approximately nine months to reach its destination.”

  “And another nine months back. Maybe more if it’s fully laden,” nodded the commodore. He sucked in his breath, and then a broad smile reappeared upon his face. “Mr. Poulson, where would you like to spend the next couple of years?” Chuck picked up the pen.

  “Splendid fellow, stout man! Knew you’d see it my way. Quite envy you, to be honest. Young fellow like you, universe stretched out before you, battles to be fought, honors to be won. And the ladies too.” He gave Chuck a knowing wink. “Nothing like a handsome man in uniform for attracting the fillies! Exciting times await!”

  Chuck nodded and did his best to return the smile. He signed on the dotted line, initialed here, there and everywhere else until the commodore gave him a friendly slap on the back.

  “Good to have you aboard, sub-captain,” he said as the adjutant opened the door. “Dismissed!” As soon as Chuck was out of the door Commodore Jacks rolled his eyes and looked across at Lt. Primrose. “Is he the last one?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  “Thank God for that. Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel. What a shower – wherever did they find them all?”

  “Not what you expected, sir?”

  “On the contrary, exactly what I did expect but I suppose beggars can’t be choosers.” He rose from his desk and sat back on the sofa, legs stretched out and arms behind his head. “Well, they may not be the finest body of men but at least I still have you, lieutenant.”

  “Why thank you, sir.”

  “And you lieutenant, very definitely do count as a fine body. Now why don’t you lock that door and come and sit over here,” he said patting the sofa with his hand.

  “Is that an order, sir?”

  “You can volunteer if you like.”

  “Is this going to be hazardous duty, sir?”

  “Might involve a few risks, Dolores, but no-one ever said the service wasn’t without its dangers. Has its rewards as well though, Dolly my love.”

  “Whatever would the admiral say?” said Primrose, locking the door and joining Jacks on the office couch.

  “Giles? That old fool?” snorted Jacks, putting one arm around Primrose’s shoulder and resting his other hand on her ample bosom. “You know what his problem is, don’t you?”

  “What would that be?” she said, leaning into Jacks’ embrace.

  “He never learned how to mix business with pleasure.”

  “Hello sir,” said Penny. “How was the meeting with the commodore?”

  “A complete disaster. My new contract,” grunted Chuck, slapping a large wad of papers on the desk. “Say hello to Sub-Captain Poulson.”

  “Really, sir? That’s great news! Now I can salute you properly,” she said, springing smartly to attention and delivering a perfectly executed, regulation salute.

  “I wish you’d stop doing that.”

  “Can’t have that sir. Not now you’re a ranking officer. Rules and Regs are quite clear on the matter. Could get into a lot of trouble. Good news is that if we are working together we only have to salute twice a day.”

  “That often? Couldn’t we just make do with one at the start of the week?”

  “Twice a day. First thing in the morning and last thing at night. Unless we’re on the night shift, of course, in which case it’ll be first thing at night and then–”

  “Yes, yes, I get the idea, Pen,” sighed Chuck. “Penny,” he continued, “Tell me again, how long is it you spend at that academy of yours?”

  “I’m in my last year, sir. The last of five.”

  “You know, Penny, even if I wanted to be Sub-Captain Poulson, has it not crossed your mind that since I only lasted three weeks at the academy I might be just a little light on military training?”
/>   “Well…” began Penny.

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, that’s no training. Bugger all. Can’t even salute, unless you’re happy with a Boy Scout salute,” said Chuck, waving two fingers in the vicinity of his left ear.

  “I think it’s the handshake that scouts do with the left hand sir, not the salute. Anyway, it’s easy enough. Watch me. Just swing your arm out, longest way up, shortest way down. Some people like to give a little wiggle at the top,” she said, giving a little demonstration, “But personally, I think it’s a bit ostentatious.”

  “Whichever. Either way, let’s assume for a moment that I’ve managed to master the art of the salute, with or without the wiggle. Would that make me a bona fide, honest to goodness officer? A leader of men? Master of tactics and strategy? I have a sneaking feeling that the board of governors at your academy would be hoping for rather more than a neat salute.”

  “Take your point, sir. Did you mention it to the commodore?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “So what did he say?”

  “Apart from that I’d look good in the uniform?”

  “Well, I’m sure he’s right about that,” said Penny.

  “At the end, I think the commodore said something about everything being ‘tickety-boo’. Yes, I’m sure that’s what he said.”

  “Tickety-boo, sir? Can’t say I’m familiar with the expression. What’s it mean?”

  “Absolutely no idea, but he certainly seemed pleased enough,” said Chuck, leaning back in the chair in despair. “Penny, the man is completely bonkers. We’re at the sharp end of the service, don’t you know? Well if that’s the case I can only wonder what it’s like at the blunt end. Then he went on about me being in a place of honor. You’d think we’d been invaded by a band of marauding aliens bent on the complete annihilation of the human race. Place of honor? Backs to the wall and save the last round for yourself?”

  “Do we have a last round for ourselves, sir?” asked Penny. “Last time I checked this station was completely unarmed”

  “Just as well. I dread to think what that man is capable of when he has something that shoots. The depressing thing is that he had me sized up in no time at all. Plucked, stuffed and oven ready in thirty seconds flat. Never been so comprehensively outmaneuvered in all my life,” he said gloomily.

  “Ah well, sir, that’s why he’s a commodore and you’re a sub-captain. If you don’t mind me asking, how did he persuade you?”

  “Simple,” said Chuck. “He just gave me the choice between sub-captain and two years on the good ship Grunhilder.”

  “The Grunhilder?”

  “The Grunhilder. The next ship out of here. Some obsolete ore carrier on a thousand year mission to the arse end of the universe.”

  “That doesn’t seem quite right to me, sir. Let’s have a look.” Penny brought up the flight schedule on her terminal and checked down the list. “Yes, I thought so, sir. The next ship out is a shuttle down to the surface, followed by the mail packet to Panaxia. It’s lovely there at this time of year…” Then noting Chuck’s pained expression she resumed. “Sorry sir. It looks like Commander Jacobs was right – the commodore isn’t quite as bonkers as he seems.”

  “Oh, hooray for him.” Chuck took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “As a point of interest, do you have any idea what a sub-captain actually is?”

  “Not exactly, sir, though I suppose that if a sub-lieutenant is slightly below a lieutenant, then a sub-captain might be just below a captain?”

  “That can’t be right. It would make me superior to Commander Jacobs.” He picked up his contract and flicked through a few pages. “Suppose it’s all in here somewhere. God, it’ll take me a week to read all this.”

  “Would you like me to take a look? I expect most of it is similar to the one I signed before coming here.”

  “Be my guest,” he said, tossing it over.

  “My, it’s a bit heavier than mine,” she Penny, weighing it in her hands. “I, Charles Armitage Poulson… I have a cousin called Armitage, you know. We always call him Army. He lives in a mining colony on Maris Prime. At least I think he still lives there. I haven’t heard from him since the uprising.”

  “Uprising?” said Chuck.

  “Oh, it was a few months back – made the local news but probably didn’t get as far as here. It was a bit like ‘no taxation without representation’, except the other way around. They didn’t mind paying the taxes but didn’t see why they had to have representation. Once they were represented in parliament they found themselves answerable to it, which was the last thing they wanted. Up until then they’d been running the colony all by themselves without any trouble but once the central government got involved, everything came under executive scrutiny and then it began to be regulated. The more regulations they created, the more bureaucrats they needed to administer them. And of course the more bureaucrats there were, the more regulations they thought up. Then half the kids growing up on the colony figured that it would be a safer bet to join the administration than spend the rest of their lives digging rare metals out of the ground, which was in any case becoming more difficult day by day on account of all the regulations, so in the end everything ground to a halt. Too many bean counters and in the end, no beans. Last thing I heard, the mining guild burned down all the public buildings and frog marched entire administration onto an outbound freighter.”

  “Any reprisals by the government?”

  “No idea,” said Penny. “Though I don’t imagine they’d have been very pleased to have all their nice shiny offices reduced to cinders. Can’t poke the government in the eye and expect to get away with it, can you?”

  “I suppose not. Six months ago, you say? Well, at the speed the government usually goes about its business, your cousin probably still has plenty of time to get out of Dodge. I’d guess he’s safe enough.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about Army, sir. He can look after himself. You should meet him; you’d get on like a house on fire.”

  “I’m sure we would, but right now I’m more concerned with that darned contract.”

  “Right. Where shall we start?”

  “How about the bit that discusses rights and privileges?”

  “Perhaps I’d better start from the beginning, sir. Let me see… Legal aspects of and pertaining to the contract… Witnessing thereof… Summary of ordinances… Summary of military law, rules and regulations... Organization of the service, Oh, here we are, Military hierarchy and the chain of command.”

  “Great, what’s it say about sub-captains?”

  “Um… nothing. We’ve got admiral of the fleet, admiral, vice admiral, rear admiral, commodore, captain, commander, all the way down to midshipman. No… it’s not there. Oh, hang on a minute – Appendix D: Quasi autonomous ranks.” She flicked to the end of the document. “Area commanders are, at their discretion, authorized to introduce temporary, auxiliary ranks with powers and responsibilities appropriate to the prevailing situation.”

  “That sounds like the one!”

  “Sub-captain… sub-captain… Oh, here it is.”

  “And…?”

  “Well… It isn’t terribly clear to be honest, but as far as I can make out you are an officer... but only just. You can still give orders to everyone that you used to–”

  “I never gave orders to anyone anyway.”

  “Yes, but you could have done, theoretically. According to this, as a sub-captain you cannot give direct orders to any commissioned or non commissioned officer of the regular forces, though you are obliged to obey any orders given to you by an officer holding the rank of commander or above. Technically, you can give orders to the rank and file like me, but since the only person to accompany the commodore was his adjutant, you won’t find many around here.”

  “Ah, I see. So I still can’t give any orders to the people I couldn’t give orders to before but I have a new boss.”

  “That’s about it.”

  “Anything e
lse?”

  “Well, you will still receive remuneration according to your existing contract with the operators of O1 but you are entitled to an allowance with which to purchase a regular uniform [optional].”

  “I could do with a new pair of boots,” said Chuck.

  “Simple. All you have to do is present yourself at the quartermaster’s stores at sector HQ, but don’t forget to get a chit before you go.”

  “Sixteen light years for a pair of boots? Think I’ll pass on that. Is there anything else?”

  “You also qualify for free haircuts, legal advice and marriage guidance, that sort of thing. And… there’s some stuff about the eventuality of death whilst on active service. Not sure if that will be applicable though… Oh, well I never… Do you still have both your kidneys, sir? Oh, never mind – I doubt it will come to that, though you might consider writing a last will and testament if you haven’t already done so. All sorts of funny stuff can happen if you don’t.”

  “Like not getting buried in one piece?”

  “Actually, not getting buried at all. Didn’t you know, sir? If you don’t specify your preferred funeral arrangements your remains become the property of the state. Might get a nice send off if you’re lucky, but just as likely you’d be chopped up for research or worse, used as a live target.”

  “Don’t you mean dead?”

  “I was talking about the ammunition.”

  “Ah.”

  All the Ops crew found themselves with new ranks. Chuck, Guns Graham and Bernie Stevens were ‘promoted’ to sub-captain while the rest of the crew were dubbed sub-officer, which was, as far as they could ascertain, the very lowest form of officer ever recorded in the annals of military history.

  Commodore Jacks breezed about the station issuing a stream of directives. Extended leave was suspended, security tightened and visiting ships and personnel were confined to a small part Alpha Section. Every morning Jacks flew over to Phoenix, leaving Lt. Primrose in charge of his HQ. He returned each evening with fresh tales of woe. The situation on Phoenix showed little sign of improvement and as the days passed Jacks grew more and more cantankerous.