Article 23

by William R. Forstchen

  He could see that Brian was again all business. It was going to be an interesting year.

  Chapter II

  "Ships company, attenshun!"

  Justin sneaked a quick look at the assembled crowd. The last time he had attended a meeting of cadets in the great assembly hall of Star Voyager Academy it was both to receive his award for life saving and to hear Thor Thorsson, commander of the Academy, discuss the declaration of non-compliance by the Mars Assembly.

  The room seemed as if it had been empty then in comparison to the thousands who now stood in orderly ranks, arranged by class and company. The senior cadet commandant stood at the podium, her steely gaze sweeping the room for the slightest irregularity or disturbance.

  There was a stir up towards the podium and

  Justin fixed his gaze forward, snapping off a salute as the bosuns pipe echoed in the vast room. Thor Thorsson ascended to the podium, saluted the colors of the United Space Military Command, and then, facing his audience he returned their salute.

  "Ship's company at ease! Be seated!"

  Thorsson stood silent for a long moment, scanning his audience, and Justin felt that calm penetrating gaze sweep over him for a brief second. He sat a little more rigidly, as if he were alone in the room and Thorsson had singled him out for attention.

  "I trust that all of you had a stimulating and exciting summer," Thorsson began in his deep rumbling voice, tinged with the faintest touch of a Norwegian accent. A stir greeted his words, a few of the cadets shaking their heads and chuckling.

  "On behalf of the USMC, the faculty, and the staff of this ship, Star Voyager Academy, I extend greetings to all of you. Now, you've heard this before but you're going to hear it again call it my yearly ritual speech."

  He paused for a moment, his features set in a serious expression.

  "You are the best of the best. Gathered here today are seven thousand young men and women from Earth, the Moon, the orbital colonies, and outward to the farthest reaches of the solar system" he paused again for a brief instant, "and yes, even from Mars."

  No one spoke at his mention of the breakaway colony.

  Justin quickly scanned the room. Only two weeks ago word of Mars' Declaration of Secession from the UN and Colonies Space Commission had come, and over a dozen cadets from his scrub summer class had withdrawn to return home. The holo news had dwelt on little else while he was at home on Earth, and speculation was high that the crisis could very well spread and perhaps even erupt into a civil war.

  "All of you have a tough year ahead. You upper-classmen have heard me say that every year, and you've thought nothing could be tougher than what you just went through; and you've learned that I was right. Those of you who recently survived scrub summer know that you started out with over two thousand classmates back in June, you're returning now in September with a class of thirteen hundred twenty-two. This year's senior class started out just like you and this morning we have two hundred and three sitting in the front rows, with another sixty-seven still out on assignments. I expect that around two hundred and fifty will finally graduate. You can figure out the math on your own.

  "Remember the most basic rule'In space there are no second chances.' You first-year plebes, if you screw it up at this stage of the game, at worst you'll wind up just killing yourself, but by the time you reach your senior year you'll be taking on the full responsibilities of an officer with the USMC and a mistake could cost the lives of hundreds, perhaps thousands."

  He again stood silent. Justin knew what was coming.

  "Yesterday's incident with the Daedalus illustrates that well enough."

  A low murmur swept the room. Six senior cadets and one hundred eighty colonists were killed when a section of an orbital unit suffered a massive decompression. Indications were that one of the six might have been responsible, from a failure to thoroughly check an internal airlock system just moments before a meteor impact punched through three decks. Once the bodies were recovered the six would receive full military honors, but if the fault was ever pinned on any one individual the name would be made public and the mistake openly reviewed. No one ever wanted to be another Cadet Hansen, who was single-handedly responsible for the accidental destruction of the Oak Forest colony and the nearly three thousand residents on board. His name was now synonymous with being a major screw up; "to pull a Hansen" was one of the worst insults an instructor could hand a cadet.

  "You are the best and I expect the best from you at all times," Thorsson continued. "This is a dangerous life you've signed on for, but as they used to say, 'it goes with the territory.' Our territory is space, die endless frontier, the beginning of an adventure that will take us outward into the eternal sea of stars. No frontier has ever been settled without a price and you are the ones who will, more often than not, have to pay that price. We lost eighty-seven cadets last year, and a hundred and twenty-nine were seriously injured. Now, there are some on Earth who whine that the price we expect of our next generation is too high and you know what I have say about that."

  He smiled and many in the room chuckled, remembering the famous and rather scatological statement made before a hearing committee which had been convened to investigate the so-called "unacceptable risks and casualties" associated with the Academy.

  "No society in the history of the human race has ever advanced without taking risks. In your history classes you learned about the great Chinese explorers of the 14th and early 15th centuries who sailed as far as Zanzibar aboard three-masted ships. They were on the very edge of leaping outward, of sweeping the world, but then their new emperor lost his nerve and declared that the risk, the lives, and the money involved were too great. And so it was that less than a hundred years later the Portuguese came to them instead, with disastrous results for that ancient empire.

  "My own ancestors sailed the open seas in then-longboats and perished by the thousands in the doing of it. All of you have learned that most basic of principles taught by history, that they who do not explore, expand, and achieve will be replaced by others who do. I remember one of my favorite quotes, from Scott of Antarctica, the great British explorer who perished on his quest to reach the South Pole. One of his last diary entries made when he knew he was dying stands, in its simple eloquence, as a guiding beacon for the spirit of what we are, in both triumph and defeat. He wrote, "We took risks, we knew we took them, and things have come out against us, therefore we have no need for complaint.'"

  Thorsson stepped from behind his podium and began to pace the stage.

  "That is what we are! Stoic both in defeat and in triumph. That is the spirit which must shape us, and, in the shaping, lead us onward to the stars."

  He smiled softly.

  "For the stars await us. You all know what I have done, where I have been. I first went into space over forty years ago, aboard the last flight of the old United States Shuttle Two. I even witnessed a flight of the original shuttle when I was a boy back in 1997.1 was on the first team to go to Mars and the second team to orbit Jupiter. And yet I would trade all of that, all of it, to be where you now are. And that's not just an old man wishing to be young again. Not at all. For I believe that before much longer you young men and women will lead the way on the journey to the stars.

  "If Earth is our nursery, then the solar system is our playground, our backyard realm of adventures. But pretty soon, far sooner than anyone dares imagine, we will be setting sail for Alpha Centauri, Wolfs Star, Betelgeuse and Sirius. I'm not giving away any great secrets here. Maybe we'll crack the secret of that alien ship we are reassembling and master light speed, or maybe we'll go the long slow way at a fraction of light speed aboard Ark ships, but one way or the other we will go!"

  Justin found himself nodding excitedly. Thorsson had just alluded to the greatest non-secret of everyone involved in space. Nine years back the mysterious raiders, known simply as the Tracs, had staged an attack and destroyed several colonies. Thorsson himself had managed to bag one of the Trac ships, and even n
ow it was reported that recovery teams were scouring a billion cubic kilometers of space looking for wreckage and parts in a painstaking effort to put the ship back together, piece by piece.

  Mankind had known that someone or something else was out there for forty-five years, ever since the SETI project, the "Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence," had confirmed a clear signal being detected from Proximus Gemini. Ten years later the first of three Trac raids had occurred. Who they were, where they came from, what they even looked like was a complete mystery. No one even knew if the SETI programs decision to beam a signal back had been the trigger for the attacks.

  All humanity had to go on was the scattered wreckage of a ship the task of reassembling it equivalent to putting together a million-piece three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle without even knowing what it would look like once it was done. If the machine was ever put back together, and someone could then figure out how to activate it, mankind was on its way to the stars. But even if that failed there was still the Ark ship program of building habitats to accommodate twenty thousand people for journeys of thirty years or more until the nearest star was reached.

  It was one of Thorsson's favorite programs; during scrub summer he had lectured about it to Justin's class. He compared the journey to that of 19th-century colonists and whalers braving the Horn on trips lasting up to a year or more into the South Pacific.

  Thorsson slowly scanned his audience as if he were already searching for volunteer crews who would leave Earth forever, and in spite of the fears and anxieties he had yet to completely ditch about space flight, Justin knew he would go if Thorsson asked him.

  "There is one thing, though, one thing that can stop us from fulfilling our destinies," Thorsson said at length, interrupting Justin's thoughts. "And it is not the Tracs. Oh, they're out there that's one of the reasons we must go forward, to meet them in their backyard, and not ours. Perhaps we can make an arrangement with them, but history shows that more often than not when two cultures collide, the weaker one will suffer. For that reason alone we must forge ahead. But that is not my fear, not now. Rather it is the events sweeping our system the separatist movements."

  Justin looked over at Matt and saw his friend shift in his chair. Matt was in quiet support of the movement, and he feared that maybe the UN had issued some sort of decree or was about to require an oath of some sort. If they did, he knew Matt would refuse, if only as a matter of principle, being a very pig-headed solar sailor.

  "As you all know, two weeks ago the Mars Assembly issued a decree of noncompliance with the United Nations and Colonies Space Commission, and also with the USMC. The Assembly has called for and I quote, 'A First Continental Congress of Space to decide whether these colonies shall declare themselves free and independent states.'

  Matt smiled and nodded his head, and Justin saw more than one of his classmates doing the same.

  "I want to emphasize right now that this is not a declaration of rebellion, no matter what the holo newscasters might be shrieking about, either from Earth or anywhere else. When you've been around awhile, you learn that if you've heard it on the news, chances are you better not believe it especially when it's one of those blow-dried fools doing the pronouncing rather than the people who are actually involved in the story.

  "Those of you who were here for scrub summer know we lost a dozen cadets from Mars and two instructors who decided to return home. Now I want to make something damn clear to all of you."

  The mere fact that Thorsson had just used the mildest of profanities caused a stir in the audience and the entire hall became as silent as a tomb.

  "We are all brothers and sisters aboard this ship and in the service, united by the common dream of leading humanity to the stars. That is why I fought for twenty years to have this Academy created, it is why I refused postings far more senior than my current rank simply so I could be here with you, our future. We will not, and I repeat, we will not let the politicians and hotheads of either side destroy that bond. It will not be. destroyed never!"

  His words echoed in the assembly hall like the crack of a rifle.

  "If I hear of any cadet, staff, or faculty member who uses the word 'traitor' or otherwise attacks a shipmate for supporting either side, I can promise you that you will have a very swift passage home. Do I make myself clear on this?"

  No one in the audience even dared to move. In his brief exposure to Thorsson over the summer Justin had come to regard the man as a stern but kindly grandfather. Now he was seeing another side, one that was as hard as steel, and, if needs be, capable of bringing down a career without batting an eye.

  "I want to make something clear here and now. I pray to God every day that this crisis shall pass us by; that together we can go forward and explore space." He paused, and he leaned forward as if speaking personally to each cadet.

  "But if that should not be, if in the weeks, months and years ahead this crisis should spin out of control and we find ourselves arrayed against each other, I want you to remember what I have said today more clearly than anything else you ever learn here at the Academy."

  His voice dropped to a near-whisper and all present strained forward so as not to miss a single word.

  "We were comrades, we are comrades, and we shall always remain comrades. Never forget that never!" said Thorsson, and his voice echoed in the assembly hall. "If on some terrible distant field of conflict you should find yourself facing those with whom you once served if you look across that open stretch of space and on the other side are comrades with whom you once bunked, shared a meal, and knew without hesitation that you'd share your last sip of water, your last gasp of air if that day should ever come, remember what we were here this morning. That we few were once shipmates, united in common cause. You will have to do your duty, as your training commands, and as your moral obligation requires, but do it with honor.

  "And know that all conflicts end none can go on forever. There will come a day when you will have to bind up the wounds, care for the injured, orphaned, and widowed among your own comrades-in-arms. And then, together, continue the quest to the stars.

  "If you live by that pledge, if you temper yourselves to honor, to charity and yes, to love, no conflict will ever divide you. Such things will pass, and I suspect that it will be you who shall make them pass if you remember. For there is a higher calling for all of you and that calling is simple it is a single word, and that is Destiny.

  "You, the generations of the 21st century, are destined to save humankind from its follies on Earth, and the follies it contemplates on its path to the stars."

  His words drifted away into silence. Justin felt a curious stinging in his eyes, and was embarrassed until he looked around and saw more than one of his classmates on the edge of tears as well. Thorsson surveyed his audience, his eyes shining.

  "Good luck to all of you, and God bless you."

  "Ship's company, attenshun!"

  Justin came to his feet with the others and stood at rigid attention as Thorsson stepped down from the podium to stand with the faculty. Minutes later, to the barked commands of the upperclassmen, Justin filed out of the assembly hall and double-timed down the long corridors towards the first-year plebe barracks. He thought he knew the ship but was soon completely lost as they were led to a distant section that had been off limits during the summer session. Sector F-7, Deck Nine, with .41 gravity. For Justin the gravity felt decidedly pleasant, but he could see more than one of the offworlders, especially those who had lived on the Moon or in zero-gravity environments, huffing a bit under the strain.

  At last he started to recognize some of the side corridors, having passed through them briefly earlier in the day to drop off his gear. Turning into Corridor T, he and Matt came to the door of their room and, stopping on either side, the two snapped to attention.

  Several minutes passed before Brian Seay appeared and stopped at the end of the corridor. The last of the cadets came racing past, looking nervously over at Brian as they stumbled into place b
y their rooms. Justin brightened as he saw Pradeep, their third roommate from the summer, fall into place beside them. Finally a cadet he vaguely recognized as having been with another company during scrub summer came and joined them. Justin gave him a sidelong glance. The cadet was tall and thin, with pale blue eyes and a look he found disquieting. It was a vague, undefinable something, a certain way of walking, an air of superior disdain, as if he were already a senior cadet forced to associate with mere plebes. The cadet gave Justin a sidelong glance, not friendly, but not hostile, either.

  "All right, plebes, listen up and listen good."

  Brian now started to walk slowly down the corridor.

  "You are now Company A, Second Battalion, first-year plebes. Heaven knows how you made it this far just looking at you makes me want to get sick, turn in my stripes and jump ship with the first ore carrier heading out."

  Brian started into his harangue about how disgusting, miserable, nauseating, and generally unpleasant they all were. In the distance Justin could hear echoes from other corridors, as company commanders from other units launched into similar tirades. At the beginning of the summer it had left him shaking and darn near in tears more than once; as Brian stopped in front of him, he felt a bit of the gut churn, and braced himself.

  Brian fixed him with an icy gaze of disdain, as if he were looking at a loathsome insect. "Ah, the brains of the outfit," Brian snapped. "Passed Intro to Astro-Navigation by one point. Good heavens, Bell, if that stretched your pea brain, I can promise you that first-year Astro-Nav will make sure I don't have to look at your ugly face again come next semester. Boy, you are nothing but a hick from the cornfields of Indiana and when I'm done with you, you'll wish you had stayed there."

  He continued on, harassing Matt over his accent, and then moved on, attempting to make life miserable for everyone. Half an hour later, after chewing everyone out, he went through the ritual of reading the ship's General Orders "Article Twenty-Three, If any member of the Service while aboard an active-duty ship conspires to commit mutiny, and such offense occurs in a time of war or emergency mobilization, the commanding officer shall have, within his powers, the right and privilege to summarily execute the offender, by agreement of those staff officers on board who are in good standing, if the actions of the offender do jeopardize the safety of the ship or mission of that ship. If a member of the Service under those above listed conditions should strike an officer, the punishment shall be summary execution with the agreement of those staff officers on board who are in good standing.' "