Citizen X - BP01

by DePrima, Thomas

  "Because of your class rank?"

  "Um, yes, sir."

  "You feel that you should receive special privileges because you finished near the top?"

  "Um, not special, sir."

  "What would you call it, Ensign?"

  "I've, um, always believed that the better students received postings more consistent with their abilities and attitudes, sir."

  "Have you?"

  "Um, yes, sir."

  "Stop umming me, Ensign."

  "U— yes, sir."

  "Are you refusing to accept this posting, Ensign?" Collins asked in an accusatory tone.

  "NO, sir. Absolutely not. I just believed that a mistake may have been made and that it should be cleared up without delay."

  "There's no mistake. You're to report the Perry as soon as transportation can be arranged."

  "Yes, sir," Marcola said smartly.

  "Was there anything else, Ensign?"

  "No, sir."

  "Dismissed."

  Sydnee saluted, then turned on one heel and retraced her steps out of the office. As the door slid closed behind her, the aide asked, "All cleared up?"

  "Perfectly, sir."

  "Good. Good luck, Ensign."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Well, did you get it straightened out?" Katarina asked as Sydnee emerged from the Headquarters building.

  "Commander Collins said that no mistake has been made."

  "What? How could he say that? What else did he say?"

  "That I was dismissed."

  "And you didn't press him to check on it?"

  "No way. He was in that 'How dare you question the decisions of Space Command HQ' mode. I was afraid that if I said anything, I'd find myself posted to a reclamation barge."

  "Yeah. Well, as soon as you reach your post, apply for a transfer. They can't shunt you off to a rec-lam if you're following SOP. Want to go to town?"

  "Yeah, I need a drink— maybe two— maybe even three."

  "Two is about your limit. We haven't graduated yet, you know."

  "So what. Everything is finished except the final ceremony. I'm finished too. I've busted my backside for six years, only to wind up on the worst ship in the fleet."

  "Try to look at the positive side."

  "You see a positive side?"

  "You're bound to be the best damn officer on that ship. You might make captain before any of us."

  "I'd rather be a lieutenant on the Battleship Pholus than the captain of the Light Destroyer Perry."

  * * *

  "Ohhh, my head is killing me," Sydnee moaned to Katarina, who was doing her best to hold the five-foot eleven-inch cadet upright, fully clothed, in the shower. "What time is it?"

  Katarina, an inch and half shorter, was having difficulty supporting Sydnee's full weight. "It's almost 0800. I've been trying to wake you for an hour. You have to get ready for graduation."

  "I don't have anything left to do until tomorrow. I'll worry about it then."

  "Graduation is in two hours."

  "Two hours? No, it's tomorrow."

  "Today is tomorrow. You slept all day yesterday."

  Sydnee came instantly alert. The burden on her sodden, auburn haired friend was immediately relieved. "What? What did you say?"

  "Graduation is today. You slept all day yesterday. You're still wearing the same clothes from two days ago."

  "Impossible. I couldn't have slept an entire day away."

  "It's not impossible for someone who tossed down a dozen Canberra Coolers."

  "A dozen?"

  "I couldn't stop you. I got you outside the bar three times and you ran back inside and ordered another round. I had all I could do just getting you back here without the MPs picking us up."

  "Oh, my aching head."

  "You deserve it."

  "Don't say that, Kat. You're going to your dream job aboard the Pholus. I'm going to hell— ohhh, if I live that long."

  Chapter Two

  ~ Aug 24th, 2284 ~

  Sydnee made it through commencement conducted on the school's largest athletic field, but at the conclusion of the graduation ceremony when everyone cheered, screamed, whooped, and tossed their hats into the air, Sydnee barely made it to a waste receptacle on the sideline where she could toss her cookies instead. Fortunately, her stomach was empty so there was no disgusting mess. All she accomplished was to make pitiful retching noises as her body tried to expel non-existent contents. By then everyone knew of her posting, so no one faulted her condition. They were grateful beyond words that they weren't the one going to the Perry. Even her classmate with the distinction of being ranked number four hundred fourteen of four hundred fourteen students had managed a better posting. She was going to the Destroyer Tokyo, currently on patrol out in deca-sector 8667-1844. It was also in a backwater sector, but at least it was a decent ship, not a bucket from a bygone era.

  The parting with Katarina and her other close friends was a tearful one, all the more so for Sydnee because the others were going to great posts. She couldn't have been more miserable if she had been sentenced to a dark cell on the prison colony of Saquer Major.

  * * *

  With the advent of travel at Light-9790 speed, transportation between commands in the same region could often be measured in weeks or months instead of years, but the war currently raging in Region Two meant that all new Light-9790 warships were being sent to Admiral Carver's fleet. Sydnee's posting was in the opposite direction, so it might well have taken her two years to reach the Perry if not for the new Quartermaster ships now supplying the outer sectors of GA space.

  The Tafton, a single-hull Quartermaster ship of twenty million tons, was Light-9790 capable. It not only ferried ordnance and supplies to distant bases but had also taken over the task of ferrying personnel, a chore previously performed mainly by the older and slower warships. Sydnee would have been perfectly content if it had taken two years to reach her new ship, but the Tafton made the trip to Simmons Space Command Base in just fifty-two days. The Perry, currently scheduled to arrive at the SCB base to resupply, would arrive soon after the Tafton.

  Sydnee contacted the station housing office to have her things moved to the BOQ as soon as the Tafton docked. From there she would morosely await the arrival of the Perry.

  Lieutenant(jg) Sydnee Marcola was at a dockside viewing monitor when the Perry arrived a few days later. The helmsman did a credible job with the dock-and-lock maneuver, and the ship was moored and accessible within twenty minutes of the dock master certifying the seal in the forward cargo bay ramp tunnel. Sydnee was anything but anxious to go aboard, so she headed to the shopping concourse to have a light lunch first.

  She couldn't delay the inevitable forever, so at 1400 hours Sydnee walked out the airlock pier to report to the ship. A lieutenant(jg), functioning as officer of the deck, stood on the pier at the entrance to the airlock tunnel. Two armed Marine sentries were standing at the other end of the tunnel just inside the cargo bay. She handed the data ring containing her orders to the OD and waited while he touched the ring to his viewpad's spindle. The computer confirmed her identity and posting, so he activated his CT by touching the index finger of his right hand to his Space Command ring. When the carrier wave was established, he notified a Commander Bryant that the new lieutenant(jg) was reporting aboard. After a few seconds, he said, "Yes, sir," and added "Carstairs out," to terminate the connection.

  All SC personnel had a miniscule device implanted subcutaneously against the exterior of the skull just behind their left ear when they entered the service. The CT provided two-way communication for officers, in addition to providing a confirmation of identity for many devices on bases and ships. Enlisted personnel received an ID chip for receive-only communications, but it provided identification like the CT.

  "Lieutenant Milton will be down shortly," Lt. Carstairs said to Sydnee. He'll show you to your quarters."

  "Aye."

  The two Marine sentries were out of earshot, so Carstairs, aft
er looking at Sydnee for several seconds, asked quietly, "So, what'd you do?"

  "Do?"

  "To get posted to the Perry. Did you crash a ship or something?"

  "Is that the usual reason for getting posted to the Perry?" Sydnee asked.

  "Just one of many. Some have merely said something embarrassing to a senior officer or diplomat, or perhaps fallen asleep during their watch. We had one guy who was a helmsman who brushed his ship against a freighter while leaving port. He's gone now. He left the service after he fulfilled his educational requirement. So what did you do?"

  "I'm still trying to figure that out. The only time I strayed from the straight and narrow was the day I got my orders to report to the Perry. I went out and got blasted. I slept for a day and half, but it was all downtime."

  "There must be something you did. There always is."

  "What did you do?"

  "I repeated a story about my Captain's lovemaking technique that someone learned from a whore on Earth Station Two. He recorded my retelling and it got back to the old man. The next thing I know, I'm in the Captain's briefing room listening to the recording. I couldn't deny it. I found it hilarious that the old man couldn't get it u— er, couldn't get excited enough to have sex until after his partner had spanked him hard a dozen times while telling him he'd been a bad boy. Anyway, he didn't want the story entered into the official records, so he couldn't bring charges or anything. But he could arrange to have me posted to the Perry with a 'pestiferous' in my file. Now no one will take me, even if a transfer was possible."

  "So the rumors are true?" Sydnee said.

  "What rumors?"

  "That everyone aboard the Perry is either a screw-up or a jerk."

  Carstairs stood a little straighter, obviously upset about the comment. "I don't consider myself either. I just repeated one little story to a fellow officer I trusted. It turned out he wanted my job."

  "Did he get it?"

  "Yeah, the SOB managed to get it. And I was sentenced to the Perry."

  "So what does take to get transferred off the Perry?"

  "Transferred off? It'd be easier to grow a pair of wings and fly off."

  "I'm serious. Space Command permits officers and enlisted to request transfers. There must be a way."

  "Only through an act of God."

  "Come on. I'm serious."

  "The war in Region Two has drained the officer complement of all ships in Region One. Even the ones who made it to other ships are still in this Region; they only filled positions vacated by people needed in Region Two. But we're at the absolute minimum complement now, so you can forget transfer as a way off the ship."

  "What's left?"

  "Death, or Separation from the service. I don't recommend the former."

  "Funny," Sydnee said with a grimace.

  "Come on, tell me. What did you do? We'll learn anyway. It always comes out."

  "When it does, let me in on it."

  "You're serious? You really don't know?"

  "Haven't a clue. I was ranked seventh in my class at WCI. I expected to be heading to Admiral Carver's command. Instead, I was sent here."

  "Seventh? Wow. I was only four hundred two. Congrats."

  "Yeah, you can see it really did me a lot of good."

  "Maybe it wasn't you at all."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Maybe someone high up wants to get back at a family member and they're doing it through you by pulling some strings."

  "Doubtful. My dad died at the Battle for Higgins, and my brother and sister aren't in the service. My mom has wanted nothing to do with Space Command since my dad's death. She's remarried now— to a toy company exec."

  "Action toys, like vid games or military items? They frequently have a lot of contact with the military."

  "No, he's into dolls— for little girls."

  "Did your dad have any enemies that would hold a grudge for a very long time?"

  "Who doesn't? But he died sixteen years ago."

  "Some people hang on to their hate for a long time."

  "Like the way you feel about the officer who landed you here?"

  "Yeah, except I'd never take it out on his kids. I'm not a heel. But if I ever get a chance to return the favor to him…"

  "That's another reason I want to get to Region Two. I want to be as far from the bureaucratic bullshy as I can get."

  "Well, you can never get away from it completely. But on the front lines I guess it doesn't seem quite as important. You're too busy worrying about other small matters, such as, 'Will I still be alive for breakfast tomorrow?' Ah, here's Milty."

  Lieutenant Milton strode down the ramp with purpose. "You Marcola?" he asked Sydnee as she stood straighter and saluted. The gentle tone of his voiced belied the exhibited stride.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Come with me, Lieutenant."

  Sydnee nodded to Carstairs and followed along behind Milton, who didn't seem inclined to talk any more than necessary.

  The trip through the Perry was an eye-opening experience for Sydnee. She recalled a movie where a character had talked about an old oh-gee vehicle being held together with spirit gum and prayers. While that description may not have applied to the Perry exactly, it was obvious that the ship was a collection of incongruous parts from a time long past. Milton spotted the appalled look on her face.

  "He's better than he looks. Proper replacement parts haven't been available for a long time, so the engineers have had to use whatever they could find. Some they have to make. But everything works; that's the important thing."

  "An officer at WCI was under the impression that the Perry had gone to the scrap yard decades ago."

  "He was scheduled to go twice, but he got a reprieve both times. First they turned him into a training ship for the War College. When he got too old even for that, they mothballed him. When war with Milor broke out, he was restored to service, without any upgrades, so the newer ships could be sent to fight the Milori. He's fine for simple interdiction work. We're not likely to come under fire."

  "Um, Jones class ships are said to be a little light on armor."

  "He ain't a Prometheus class battleship, if that's what you mean, but his plating isn't all that far from spec for pre-Dakinium Light Destroyers. His main handicap is his speed. He's only rated for Light-162."

  "162? That's not much faster than an old freighter."

  "Not much, but enough. Most freighters with homeports in Region One can't exceed Light-150, while freighters coming in from the Clidepp Empire are pretty much limited to Light-75. Their government ships are mostly rated at Light-150 and they haven't wanted to invest in newer military ships with higher speeds, so they restrict private ownership of faster vessels."

  "How can they enforce that?"

  "They can't, which is just one more reason why things are heating up over there. The government can't catch smugglers and pirates who have faster ships, so things are falling apart faster and faster every year. Here're your quarters, Lieutenant."

  Sensors normally opened a door automatically when anyone entered the area immediately in front of the door and stopped while facing the door. The exceptions were quarters and private offices, hazardous materials areas, and restricted access locations. Since these were Sydnee's assigned quarters, the doors should have opened immediately.

  "Computer, acknowledge the presence of myself and Lt. Marcola at her quarters," Milton said.

  Through her CT, Sydnee heard, "Acknowledging the presence of Lt. Mark Milton and Lt(jg) Sydnee Marcola at her quarters."

  "Computer, why isn't the door opening?"

  "The door is open, Lieutenant."

  "Computer, the door isn't open. Open it."

  "The door is open, Lt. Milton."

  "Computer, the door is not open. Override sensor data and open the door."

  "Overriding sensor data and opening door," the computer confirmed.

  "Computer, the door still isn't open," Milton said a second later.

  "T
he door is open, Lt. Milton," the computer said.

  "Good grief," Milton said. "Try the bulkhead sensor, Lieutenant."

  Sydnee reached out and waved her hand in front of the sensor. The door remained closed.

  "Whack the bulkhead just beneath the sensor," Milton said.

  Sydnee hit the bulkhead just beneath the sensor with the flat of her fist. The door slid noiselessly open.

  "I saw a specialist from engineering do that one day. He said the sensor board is located there and sometimes a circuit switch hangs. A healthy whack frees it."

  "There are mechanical switches on the circuit cards?"

  "The Jones class was designed a century ago, and you probably can't find an original electronic part anywhere on board. Who knows where they get the replacement sensor boards for the doors. Maybe they come out of those buggy old twentieth-century computers they used on wet navy vessels."

  "I can't imagine how this ship escaped the scrap yard."

  "A question we've all asked ourselves at times. The Captain will see you in his briefing room at 1530. I suggest you not be late. He's a stickler for punctuality."

  "I don't know my way to the bridge."

  "You can find the ship layout maps on your computer. It's all set up with the ID and passwords you used at the WCI. You can change them if you want. Good luck, Lieutenant."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Outside of protocol situations, I'm just Milty, unless you've screwed up and my tail got caught in the wringer for not stopping you."

  Sydnee smiled for the first time in days. "I'm Syd," she said, extending her hand.

  "Welcome aboard, Syd," Milty said, taking it and shaking it lightly. "I know the Perry isn't anything like the new ships, but this old bucket will grow on you if you give it half a chance. It's never let its crew down."

  "Thanks. Milty."

  "See you later Syd."

  Sydnee entered her quarters as Milton headed back the way they'd come. So far, the two officers she'd met had seemed like decent types. Maybe the Perry wasn't the worst place she could have landed after all. It had to be at least a step above a reclamation ship.

  * * *