Stars Fell on Alabama

by M. Alan Marr

  Dev gently ushers Chaz to his side. “Lateral passages like this one are rounded, like tubes,” Dev says, pointing to the circular construction where they are. “Chevrons at the top indicate the way to the keel. You’ll see in many deck spaces white boarders called forelines, oriented toward the bow. When they fire the acceleration engines, it’s helpful to orient yourself facing forward. You’ll see them on catwalks, small spaces, and even in larger areas where you might get knocked off balance.”

  Dev turns a corner and they enter a larger corridor. “Main corridors like this lay fore and aft, generally along the keel line, and are rectangular. Chevrons up at the crossbeams in these spaces indicate whether you’re going forward or aft. Airlocks and escape hatches are all outlined in blue and green hash marks. If there’s a call to abandon ship, immediately head to one of the these hatches. Don’t wait for me if we get separated. The escape hatches will either put you directly into, or lead you to the nearest lifeboat or rescue capsule. If there is a red boarder lit up around the hatch, don’t open it; it’s not safe.”

  Chaz nods, “Red is bad, okay.”

  Dev points to small lockers spaced along the bulkheads marked by a sideways eight. “The light blue lockers hold oxygen masks. If there’s a hull breach or atmospheric crisis, don’t think about it, just grab a mask and put it on.”

  “What’s that symbol? Looks like an infinity sign.”

  “It’s the way we write a double-o.”

  “Why double-o?”

  “O2?”

  “Oooooh.”

  Dev leads Chaz into a personnel lift, and heads up to another deck. The doors open, and they are on the move again. The acceleration forces subside slightly, but unlike the very stable ride on the Recon ship, Chaz notices this vessel actually feels like it’s moving. Warship Adonis reaches cruise speed and begins re-deploying her great masts, the mechanics of which can be heard throughout the ship as they lock into place.

  Chaz looks up toward the source of the sound.

  “They’re deploying the masts,” Dev replies. “The sails will be next.”

  Outside, the enormous sails unfurl to capture solar wind and energy and quantum-level particles, all of which will benefit the ship while in transit. As the sails catch the solar wind, Chaz feels the deck sway suddenly and is surprised at the sensation of wavelike motion inside the vessel.

  “Whoa—what’s that?”

  “The sails just unfurled,” Dev says. “I’m sorry, there are a lot of factors that impact the flight. It may take some getting used to.”

  “I’m a Navy man, Dev, high seas are nothing new to me.”

  “You’ll be just fine.”

  “I’m surprised, though. The Recon ship was pretty smooth.”

  “That’s because we were only using the engines. You feel it more when the sails are out. On large ships like this one it’s almost impossible to maintain static gravity across the entire vessel.”

  “Does the Recon ship have sails?”

  “It has a set of topsails. We use them mainly for long duration flights. Recon ships have large engines and are very powerful in relation to the size of the ship.”

  Dev and Chaz approach the entrance to the Quarterdeck, where two armed guards flanking the open hatch stand at attention as Dev approaches. He motions to Chaz then himself to indicate they are together. The sentries allow them to pass. Inside the entry they pass two short staircases on either side leading down to a lower deck area. Chaz looks around discreetly, peering over the railing, to the other fully manned half deck below. He follows Dev as he winds his way through the Quarterdeck stations and notices the other officers’ reactions to Dev’s presence.

  Chaz thinks, being a Flight Commander and Aviator of the Crown is as lofty as it sounds. Every officer either nods or stands a little straighter as Dev passes. Chaz notices the other officers have rank insignia on their shoulder boards reminiscent of the collar bars worn by the US Navy. Dev’s shoulder boards are, so far, the only ones here with actual stripes. As they walk around a large status chart, Chaz sees the edge a much larger navigation table. Pilot stations are forward of the navigation table, like on the Recon ship, but are set up as dual two-man positions. And just like the Recon ship, the Quarterdeck has a seating area forward of all stations. Chaz turns to the navigation table focuses on an officer wearing shoulder boards nearly identical to Dev’s. Chaz thinks, Three stripes, but slightly different. He must be the CO. From the officer’s profile, Chaz imagines he could have been born in India were they on Earth. He is standing alone on the portside of the navigation table contemplating the display. Three junior officers stand on the opposite side. Chaz can tell they are juniors just by their body language and countenance.

  “Commander Vijay,” Dev calls amiably.

  The Indian-looking officer’s head turns. He smiles and speaks jovially. “Commander Dev. You live, sir.”

  Dev smiles. “I do, sir.”

  They shake hands. “We’ve been worried about you. Welcome aboard, my friend.”

  “Thank you, sir, it’s good to see you.”

  Vijay engages in some mock chiding for the benefit of the juniors. “Six months and nary a word, sir. The Admiralty,”—he notices Chaz—“was . . . beside itself.” Vijay pauses, looking at Chaz and then turns to Dev.

  “Fleet Commander Vijay Parnel, I present Lieutenant Commander Chaz Ronaldi.”

  Vijay slowly turns his head toward Chaz, but holds his eyes on Dev a half-second longer. “Sir.”

  Chaz nervously straightens up. “Commander.”

  Dev leans in and whispers discreetly, “Vijay, Chaz is an Earth resident.”

  Vijay looks at Chaz and reacts in a surprised, and quite normal tone of voice. “You’re from Earth?”

  Chaz feels all eyes on the Quarterdeck on him now. “Uh, yes, sir.”

  The junior officers at the table exchange confused glances with each other.

  “Commander Chaz is a commissioned officer in Earth’s naval forces. His current billet is pilot of atmospheric transports.”

  “Well done, Commander,” Vijay says to Chaz. “Welcome to a larger world.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Chaz replies, somewhat nervously.

  Vijay looks at Dev curiously. “Why did you bring him?”

  “It’s a long story, Vijay, but Chaz and I are mates.”

  Vijay smiles widely. “I cannot wait to send a cable to my wife, sir.” He gladly shakes Dev’s hand again and then again with Chaz, Vijay’s smile now beaming. “Nala has been trying to marry Dev off since our first days as Midshipmen.”

  “It’s true.” Dev laughs. “She is relentless.”

  “I don’t know what she will do now,” Vijay jokes. “She will go apoplectic.”

  Concerned with all the activity, Dev looks at the nav display. “Vijay, what’s going on?”

  Vijay’s levity is short-lived. Back to business. “There’s been an attack.”

  “Where?” Dev says poignantly.

  Vijay gestures to the hologram. “Lyra.”

  “Tech world,” Dev says to Chaz, then back to Vijay, “How bad?”

  “The fleet has responded, but intelligence is limited. Warship Calibos has not reported in since declaring the area safe. Communications with the Crown has now become problematic. We’re underway now at flank speed and full sail.”

  Dev studies the navigation display. “ We’ll be in the trough soon. Flank speed should carry us ahead of the curve; take at least half a day off our transit.”

  “I concur,” Vijay says. “My friend, you’re not billeted here, but I could use your talents at navigation. May I press you to stand third watch?”

  “Whatever I can do to help, sir.”

  “My thanks, Dev.” Vijay calls out to someone on the half deck below and motions for a crewman to come. “Have quarters issued to Commanders Caelestis and Ronaldi.”

  “Sir.”

  Vijay looks at Dev. “Do you want separate quarters?”

  “No, sir.” />
  “Third watch will have us in position to best use your talents, Dev.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get settled. We’ll speak later. Hopefully we’ll know more soon.”

  The crewman hurries up the few steps to the Quarterdeck, stands at attention, then leads Dev and Chaz out and down the corridor to the lift, walking several paces in front of the officers. Along the way, Dev speaks quietly to Chaz. “It would be best to use your naval rank while you’re here.”

  Chaz replies quietly, “Very well.”

  “Crewman, I’ll need a uniform,” Dev calls. “And the third watch duty roster.”

  “Right away, Commander.”

  The crewman brings Dev and Chaz down the lift and through a corridor to a set of officers’ quarters appropriate for two people. The quarters are about the size of a standard hotel room. There is a small sitting room with a couch, and a dining table for two. The next compartment is very small and contains a bunk and separate hygienic facilities. Dev dismisses the crewman, who momentarily stands at attention and then smartly departs.

  Once in private, Chaz drops his military composure. “Holy shit.”

  “A lot to take in,” Dev says.

  “If you want me to stay in military mode, I need to know the breakdown of your rank structure and protocols.”

  “Will do. Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah, I need something to offset that wine.”

  Dev takes a computer pad off the table. “This icon here will call the stateroom attendant.” Dev pulls up a menu and taps a few icons. “I just ordered a meal service brought in. I made a couple of selections I think you’ll like.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Listen, I’m going to need to try and get some sleep if I’m to stand watch on the Quarterdeck.”

  “I’m too amped up to sleep,” Chaz replies. “But I’ll be quiet. Is there something I can read about your branch of service?”

  “Yes. First, I’ll cue up a primer for you so you can read Tertian easier. You’ll already understand most of what’s written. The unusual symbols are mainly what we call inflection notes to give a sort of visual context to what you’re reading. They’re not difficult to learn. You’ll also notice that vowels often appear as compound letters combined with the consonant. Double-Es are written as sort of a vertical staff with three horizontal lines across. A-E is a compounded letter with three small horizontal lines attached to the right-hand stroke of the A. E-A is just the opposite. Double-O looks like an infinity sign. Proper names, species, officer ranks, are always capitalized. Likewise for designated spaces on a ship . . . Quarterdeck, Flight Deck, etcetera. If you write anything, please make sure you do it properly. It’s considered poor form not to.”

  “Okay. I’ll read up on it. Is there something on military protocol and maybe some history on Trieste?”

  “There’s an excellent series in the academics library you may like,” Dev says. He points to the wall screen. “That’s a multi-function display. It can work independently or in concert with the pad. I’ll give you the basics on that before I turn in.”

  “Cool.”

  “I should also get you checked out on the privy.”

  “The what?”

  “The space toilet.” Dev says. “But first, let’s go over our rank structure. You’ll encounter most of these here, so let’s start with that. There are a lot of enlisted ranks, but as officers, we generally just refer to the enlisted grades in fleet service as crewman. But there are gunners, techs, corpsmen, and so forth, just like the military on Earth.”

  “Okay.”

  “Officer ranks are displayed on shoulder boards. Enlisted personnel have their insignia in the same place, but no shoulder boards. So if you see shoulder boards, you know it’s an officer. All officers begin as OIs, or Officer Initiates. It’s a general term that covers all branches of service. OIs bound for the fleet start out as Midshipmen. Those in the terrestrial service start as Infantrymen.”

  “Any rivalry between the services?”

  “Some, mostly while at school, between the Mids and the Infants.”

  “Infants?”

  Dev chuckles. “They don’t like when we call them that.”

  “I thought you guys were more respectful of one another.”

  “That’s hardly a slander,” Dev says. “You guys don’t joke about the Air Force?”

  Chaz laughs. “All the time, but we’re savages.”

  Dev rolls his eyes. “Okay, after OI, our ranks follow similar convention as the Navy. First commissioned rank is Ensign, because back in the old days, the junior-most officer was the ensign bearer; the holder of the flag.”

  “Got it.”

  “Next are the Lieutenants. I believe your military has multiple designations in that rank,” Dev says.

  “Yes. Lieutenant junior grade and lieutenant in the Navy; first and second lieutenant in the Air Force.”

  “Here, a Lieutenant is a Lieutenant, unless they have a numerical designation, in which case they hold higher office to one who doesn’t.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “On warships like Adonis, the First Lieutenant is second-in-command. Adonis also has a Second, Third, and Fourth Lieutenant in its primary command structure. We use similar conventions within fighter squadrons. In some of the larger Admiralty commands, you might even see Eighth, Ninth, or Tenth Lieutenants.”

  “Tenth Lieutenant?” Chaz gasps. “Wow. How long does it take to make First Lieutenant?”

  “It depends, and it’s not necessarily progressive. If the Adonis First Lieutenant transfers to say, an Admiralty command, he may be accepting a numerical billet farther down the chain, but overall, he’s still a Lieutenant.”

  “So, if a Lieutenant has a number, they outrank one who doesn’t.”

  “Exactly.” Dev nods. “Next are the command ranks: Lieutenant Commander, and Commander.”

  Chaz interjects, “In the Navy, we always said lieutenant commanders were the commanders of lieutenants, is it the same here?”

  “Sort of,” Dev replies, and then explains further. “Lieutenant Commander is most often a transitional rank. When a First Lieutenant is initially granted command of a ship they will promote to Lieutenant Commander. They’ll typically hold that rank for a couple of years at which time there is a comprehensive review of their service.”

  “How comprehensive?”

  Dev chuckles. “You stand before a bunch of Admirals who pick apart your entire record all the way back to your Midshipman days.”

  “Holy shit. Why so detailed?”

  “To be promoted to Commander means you are empowered to fully act on behalf of the Crown. Commanders often face ever changing variables are granted a lot of discretion and autonomy, particularly out in the field.”

  “Okay.”

  “By far, the most plentiful commissioned rank in our service is Lieutenant. It’s not at all uncommon for officers to spend the bulk of their careers, and even retiring, as Lieutenants.”

  “Wow. If you retired as a lieutenant in the Navy you’d have to be a total screw up.”

  Dev continues, “Officers will often add their division to their rank when they feel it’s helpful to let you know what they do. The exception being Flight Lieutenants. They usually let everyone know they’re Flight Lieutenants.”

  “A little ego involved there?” Chaz says.

  “Of course.” Dev laughs. “But, generally, unless needed to emphasize their division, they will usually just refer to themselves by rank, or numerical rank. It’s slightly different for senior officers. I’m a Flight Commander. Vijay is a Fleet Commander; the CO of this warship. There are also Battalion Commanders, Medical Commanders, and so on. Commanders typically add their division to their rank. As a Flight Commander, I have wings on my uniform, or I’m wearing a flight suit, so it’s pretty obvious what I do.”

  “I thought they called you Recon Commander back on the ship.”

  “They did. They were addressing the co
mmanding officer of the Recon ship.”

  “Oh, I get it.”

  “Post-Command are the Flag ranks of the Admiralty and Field Marshals, but you won’t encounter any of those here.”

  “You don’t have captains?”

  “Captain was a rank reserved for oceanic vessels and has reverted to a civilian rank.”

  “What about commodores?”

  “Some,” Dev replies. “We have a Commodore of the Citadel. Our largest shipyards each have a Commodore to oversee operations and ship movements; a post that used to be called the Port Admiral, but that changed after we went from the oceanic to the trans-atmospheric. Occasionally, the Admiralty will designate a Commodore in the field when a group of warships require a central command officer.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “No. It’s pretty rare to have operations involving more than one warship. Commodore is usually the last stop before promoting to Admiral. It allows for Flag Officer presence in the field and provides a direct link to the Admiralty. It’s actually a pretty big deal. Promoting to Admiral is quite rare. We generally don’t risk our Admirals by sending them into the field.”

  “Sounds like a cushy job, being one of your Admirals.”

  “It’s not. The weight of responsibility our Admirals bear is enormous. Here, in the field, officers make decisions and try to stay a few steps ahead of the game. Admirals have to stay decades ahead of the game.”

  Chaz nods. “And what do Field Marshals do?”

  “Field Marshals command our terrestrial garrisons. The Yeti don’t always attack from the high ground; when they reach the surface it’s like an onslaught of wild dogs. The garrison soldiers handle that.” Dev punches up the display screen to show the rank insignia. He points to the screen and continues, “Okay, shoulder board insignia is easy: one silver bar for Ensign; two for Lieutenant. The way to distinguish between the senior Lieutenant designations are the small gold squares added to the head-side of the shoulder boards. First Lieutenant has a single gold square. Second has two, and so on. It’s pretty intuitive. If you see gold squares, just add them up. Anything beyond Fourth Lieutenant, the insignia are smaller and logically arranged.”