Firestar
Copyright© 2009 by Prince von Vlox
Chapter 9
The first few days of Command & Staff School were overwhelming. Corey felt she was being buried in an avalanche of reports, tests, forms and evaluations. She barely had time to send a message to her sibs that she was home. She’d posted a letter she’d written on the ship telling them about her transfer, and she half-expected one of them would call her, but if they did she didn’t get the message.
After the last test she reported to Captain Taylor, the School’s Commandant.
“You’re here because Petra Johnson used her prerogative as an Eldest,” Captain Taylor said as Corey took a seat. She was an older, frail-looking woman with white hair, high cheekbones, and skin drawn tight across her face. “We don’t always accept those recommendations; too often they’re here as a favor to someone, and they can’t maintain the academic level we require. But...” She paged through a report before putting it to one side.
“But...?”
“With these scores I’m surprised somebody didn’t find you earlier. Where’ve you been hiding?”
“Ma’am? Hiding? I was on Auldearn for two years, and several months ago I was transferred to Jellicoe. I wouldn’t call that hiding.”
“Yes, I see that. Still, it’s odd that with your scores and fitness reports it took six years for you to make Squadron Lead.” She sighed. “Your age probably had a lot to do with that. Some of the clerks here think skill and leadership only come with gray hair.” She shook her head. “No matter, you’re here now, and that’s the important thing.
“Petra Johnson recommended we put you in the Command track, and I agree. To put you anywhere else would be unthinkable. Your scores are unusual.”
“Unusual, Ma’am?”
“High enough that we may want to reconsider some of our testing procedures.”
“Some of it could be luck, Ma’am. Captain Johnson told me I shouldn’t rely on it.”
“She has a point. Luck is fickle, and can turn on you in a heartbeat. Speaking of that, I understand Second Squadron from Chalons tried what you did, a head-on attack on an Idenux formation while covered with missiles.”
Corey read the tightness in Captain Taylor’s expression. “What happened?” She felt a hollowness in her stomach.
“Three survived, and their fighters were so badly damaged that they had to be junked. An Alert has gone out to all squadrons to not try that again.”
Corey closed her eyes. Nine pilots dead. She’d been luckier than she realized. She’d probably gotten away with it because nobody had ever done that before.
Captain Taylor closed the folder and tossed it in her Out Tray. “Don’t worry about it, Andersen, we’ll teach you what you need to know to avoid using up whatever luck you have left.” She pulled out a sheet of paper, signed it, and passed it across the desk.
“Here are your classes. We’re giving you a very stiff course load, and for the first few days of the coming term you’ll feel overwhelmed. But if you work hard, you should be able to manage it. Good luck, Student Andersen.”
Corey rose and saluted. When she was out in the hall she read over the list: Basic Tactics, Introduction to Strategy, Beginning Logistics, Historical Analysis, Leadership, and Introduction to Administration. It was a killer of a schedule, and it threatened to keep her busy for more hours than the day held.
An hour later, when she dumped her books and manuals on her desk, her two roommates, Tatiana Silversmith and Robbie Sinclair, commiserated with her
“She left out one class,” Tatiana said, studying Corey’s list. She was a tall, thin blonde with a drawl that told everyone she was from The Archipelago on Setosha. She had served in Scouts with the Frontier Fleet, which gave her and Corey something to talk about. They had been in many of the same places, though at different times.
“I wasn’t aware there was room for another class,” Corey said. She settled on her bed with a sigh. “There’s barely enough time for eating and our morning Physical Training class. What’s missing?”
“Sleep,” Tatiana laughed. “As I see it the only way you’re going to get any is if they assign it to you.”
“Perhaps,” Robbie said. She was a slender Marine of average height and dark hair. “Logistics should give you a chance to sleep. The only reason I can stay awake in that class is because it’s right before my tactics class.”
“I don’t know.” Corey looked at her schedule again. “Maybe I can rig an intravenous drip and sleep when everyone else is eating.”
Tatiana laughed. “Don’t do that. If you succeed, they’ll hook us all up. Now you’d better go find where your classes are. If you don’t you’ll be late, and you don’t want that.”
Corey rummaged through the mass of books and papers she’d been issued and finally found a map of the school. “If I’m not back in an hour send out a search party.”
By the first break day--the ninth and tenth days of a tenday were always break days--she found time to call her sibs. On the off chance that Heather was in her lab, she called there first. One of the technicians told her that Heather was doing field trials on another continent and was not available.
She didn’t know the number for the place where Sonia worked. She couldn’t remember the name of the company either, so she called the Red Ridges Family Compound in First Landing. Each Family maintained an Official Residence in the capitol. Some were nothing more than an office and a receptionist, but most also had rooms for anyone from that Family visiting First Landing. They also served as a central contact point for Family members who moved around a lot or otherwise couldn’t stay in touch.
“The number I have for Sonia Jolene Andersen is over three years old,” the girl at the Residence said. “I don’t know how much good it will do you.”
“It’s better than nothing,” Corey said. “Sonia said she’d started a new job, but she didn’t say where it was.”
“Aye, Ma’am. If you get a more current number, please let us know.”
Corey tried the other number, and an older-sounding woman answered the comm. “Who’s calling, please?”
“I’m Sonia’s sib-sister, Corey Jolene.”
“Ah. Well, I’m sorry to tell you, but Sonia hasn’t worked here for some time.”
Corey looked at the last letter she’d received; Sonia had written it, and it seemed like she was all right. “Do you know where she is?”
“No, Ma’am, I don’t. One day she came in and gave her notice. We forwarded her things to her Family’s offices here in First Landing, and haven’t heard from her since. Surely she would have told them where she was.”
“I called them,” Corey said, “and they didn’t know. I was hoping she might have told you.”
“Well, if you do find out where she went, let us know. We’re like a family here, and there are several people who miss her and would like to say hi.”
“I’ll let her know,” Corey promised.
Disappointed, Corey went out with Tatiana and Robbie that evening. It was nice to get the school out of their heads for a few hours, but it wasn’t the same as spending time with her sibs. Robbie and Tatiana partied a lot harder than she did, and she kept trying to shush them as they staggered back to the School, arms around each other, singing at the top of their lungs.
The next day, as she was passing the front desk--Tatiana had thrown a pillow at her when she’d suggested breakfast--the clerk called her over. “Student Andersen? I have a message for you, Ma’am.”
“Message? Who from?”
The clerk pulled a small envelope out of a niche behind her desk. “This came from a Sonia Jolene Andersen. It says here she’s your sib-sister.”
Corey nodded. “Aye, she is. I wonder how she found me? I’ve been trying to get hold of her since I arrived, but haven’t been able to get a number.”
The clerk shrugged. “This came through Navy Mail, Ma’am, it wasn’t a comm message.” She handed it across, along with a clipboard. “I need you to sign the register, please.”
Corey signed for the letter, and then tore open the envelope. There was a single piece of paper inside, with a number written in Sonia’s scrawl.
“May I use your comm?” Corey asked.
The clerk shoved the unit across the desk. “Be my guest.”
The comm was answered by a receptionist with a nasal tone. “Who’s calling, please?”
“I’m Sonia Andersen’s sib-sister Corey.”
“Oh, yes Ma’am, you’re on the list. I’ll put you right through.” The line clicked and buzzed with a strange hollow sound that vaguely reminded Corey of an intercom circuit on a ship with too many open ports.
“Analysis and Evaluation, Sonia,” said a familiar but tired-sounding voice.
“So there you are,” Corey said. “I’ve been trying to find you since I got back.”
“Corey! What are you doing here? We thought you’d be gone for months, or maybe longer. When you were here last I sent you a note to give you my number, but you never called.”
“I just got it.”
“But I sent it several months ago! Never mind, where are you?”
“I’m at the Command & Staff School here in First Landing. Where are you? I don’t have much time off, and--”
“Stay there,” Sonia interrupted. “I can be there in 20 minutes. Oh, wait until Heather finds out you’re back. How long are you going to be here?”
“Several months.”
“That’s the rest of the year! This’ll be great!”
“Not really, I’m up to my ears in class work. I can barely squeeze out time to see you, and today’s an off-day.”
“It’s better than you being light-years away! Don’t move, I’ll be there in 30, well, 40 minutes.”
It was closer to an hour, but Corey finally saw Sonia get off a bus at the stop across the street. She’d been sitting in the alcove at the main entrance, reading the latest issue of the Command & Staff Journal. There was an article about a battle she’d been in the year before. Her memory of the fight didn’t match the account in the Journal. She wondered if there was someone she could write to about that.
“Hello, stranger,” Sonia said as she came up the steps. There were lines on her face and her clothes looked slept in. She stopped and looked around at the flowerbeds lining the walkways. Unlike the rest of the base, somebody had made a conscious effort to beautify the grounds of the school.
“Are you sure this place belongs to the Navy?” Sonia touched a pale yellow flower growing next to the steps. “This looks so ... I don’t know ... pleasant. It’s almost livable.”
Corey laughed and gave her sib a hug. “It’s just a disguise. The insides of the buildings are like ships fresh from the builders: gray and sterile. We’re not allowed to paint the halls like we would the corridors on a ship. If we had time to paint they’d assign more classes instead.”
“So how’ve you been, when did you get in, why didn’t you call earlier, and--”
Corey held up her hand to stem the flow of questions. “Before we talk, let’s find a place to eat. I don’t have any classes today and I’ve been craving some real food.”
“Really? You’d think they’d serve real food here.”
“I don’t think they want us to forget what it’s like on a ship.”
Sonia made a face. “That makes some weird kind of sense. I saw a place to eat a couple of blocks away. Let’s go there.”
The restaurant had a table-crowded patio surrounded by trees. Gulls from the nearby river wheeled overhead. To the west, framed by a pair of older buildings, were a range of cloud-wreathed mountains. A gentle breeze caused the leave of the trees to stir, and helped hold down the summer heat.
Corey ignored the view and scanned the menu. There were so many things to choose from she almost didn’t know where to start. This was so different from life aboard a ship, or even in the cafeteria at school.
“So what special class are you taking this time?”
“I’m a regular student with the full course load,” Corey replied without looking up.
“Oh? What are you taking?” Sonia laid her menu to one side and placed the back of her hand against the shunt plate to order.
“I’m on the Command Track.” Corey made her choice and ordered as well. “I’m taking Evil, Pure Evil, Mayhem, Organizing Murder, Running, How to be an Eldest, and Agreed Upon Lies.”
“Uh, what?” Sonia looked confused. “Those can’t be the real names, of course.”
“Of course not, I was just teasing you. Those are the nicknames the students have given them.” Corey leaned back and stretched. “I’m taking Logistics, Administration, Tactics, Strategy, Physical Training, Command, and Historical Analysis. People in the Navy can have a pretty raw sense of humor.”
“So Administration is Pure Evil?” Corey nodded. “I can see that. I guess the other names make sense, too.”
“You should hear what the Marines call their courses,” Corey said, laughing. It felt so good to sit out in the open like this. She’d only been able to do it once on her last visit.
“I’ve met a few Marines,” Sonia said, laughing along with her. “I’d believe anything you told me about them.”
“So how’ve you been? And how’s Heather? Where is she, by the way? I called her lab, but they just told me she’s on the other continent.”
“That’s where her test site is. She’ll be there for at least the next tenday with her new flower. She’ll probably cut it short when I tell her you’re here.”
“Want to bet? You know how she can get.”
“Well, true. Last year she missed an Eldest’s Tea because she was in the lab working on some carrots.”
“I thought you said she did something wrong,” Corey laughed. “I would have given anything to get out of those Teas.”
“It doesn’t get much better when you’re older,” Sonia said. “The young girls are nice to you, that’s different, but you still have to...”
“ ... sit up straight, keep your mouth shut and speak only when spoken to.” Corey nodded. “I remember Aunt Alexa telling us that over and over.”
“Of course now that we’re older we’re allowed to talk quietly among ourselves, the emphasis being on the word ‘quietly.’”
Corey leaned back when the waitress brought their food. “So, anyway, where are you working? You never said in your letter.”
“I ... um,” Sonia looked down at her plate. “It’s just an office job. I ... uh, I evaluate information that comes in, do some analysis for the owners, and write reports for my boss. It keeps me in spending money. It’s not as exciting as what you do, or as big a brain-killer as Heather’s job, but you wouldn’t expect it to be.”
Sonia dug into her food, eating like she was starving. “Did you say you were here for the rest of the year?”
“No, you said that. I’m supposed to be here for seven more months, though there’s a rumor that they may cut a few corners and graduate us early. There’s a war on, you know.”
“I’ve heard something about that,” Sonia said. “I also heard that the Fleet is expanding again, and they need officers.”
“That’s probably it.” Corey paused to take her first bite of splithoof fillet. “Ah, this is good. The Navy makes you appreciate real food when you encounter it.
“All right, enough of that,” Corey said, waving her fork. “What’s going on at home? Your last letter is probably still trying to catch up with me.”
“My last three more likely,” Sonia said. “Well, Cousin Janet is pregnant, and it’s a boy. I think I told you that.” Corey nodded. “All right. She’s doing fine, and so are a couple of other pregnancies; no other boys, so far. At least we haven’t gone through a bad spell like we did a few years ago when every pregnancy ended in a miscarriage.” She took another bite, chewing slowly. “Anyway...” The rest of the afternoon flashed by. It was like the civilian food, much appreciated and finished all too soon.
A tenday later, as she was leaving her Tactics Class, the instructor, Captain Alexander, called Corey to one side. “I have a pass for you,” she said, taking a card out of her desk. “It’s to Building 4.”
“Building 4?” That building had been off limits since classes had started. Construction crews had been busy there since the term had started, and there were plenty of rumors about what the new classrooms there would be like.
“Why don’t you stop by the upstairs lounge in Building 4 after classes are over today.”
“Any particular reason, Ma’am? I have a logistics test coming up that I want to study for.”
“You’ll understand when you’re there.”
Puzzled, Corey pocketed the pass and headed for her next class. This wasn’t the first time Captain Alexander had sprung something on her. The last time she’d been invited to a discussion by Captain Josie Davenport. The woman had found an Idenux base, and rather than wait for help, had jumped in and taken the place apart. During the Question Period some the officers who were present had objected to Captain Davenport’s tactics. Captain Davenport hadn’t backed down, saying ‘they might not have fully understood the opportunities she saw.’ The discussion that followed had been acrimonious and fascinating at the same time. Corey wondered what she was in for this time.
She took her time walking across the Quadrangle between the buildings of the school. The sun was warm on her face, and a breeze found its way between the buildings. This was far better than anything she’d experienced on a base during her deployments. She wanted to stop and soak it all in, but she had dinner and homework, and a nagging question about what was in Building 4.
There was a checkpoint just inside the door of the building. The gal made a great show of consulting her list before reluctantly admitting that Corey was allowed inside. “The elevator will take you to the lounge, Ma’am,” she said as she gave Corey back her pass. “The elevator is shunt controlled as an extra security measure. When you get there, report to the officer you see.”
The elevator took her to the top floor where a Third Officer was working at a table in the far corner. Corey approached her.
“Student Andersen reporting,” she said, saluting.
“Student...” The Third Officer ran her finger down the list in front of her. “Ah, yes, Andersen.” She gestured at a nearby couch. “Why don’t you have a seat? You’ll understand in a few moments.”
“Aye, Ma’am,” Corey said. She settled on the couch with her logistics textbook and began making notes. She’d learned to distrust any test where the instructor let you bring your textbooks and notes with you.
A few minutes later a different elevator dinged, and the door opened. Commander Young, wearing his white uniform, stepped out, looking around. Corey dropped her pencil in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, rising.
Commander Young seemed just as surprised, and approached her cautiously. “They finally let us off that rock,” he said. “We were there only a week, but from what you’d said I thought we’d be there longer.”
He’d used a word she didn’t recognize. “A weak? What does loss of strength have to do with time? Unless you’re already feeling the radiation. Or is it the number of hours in the day? That must be it. They’ve got to be different than what you’re used to, and it threw your body clock off. You’re still adjusting, and you’re tired all of the time.”
Alan had to think back over what he’d just said. “Ah, I said a week. That’s a unit of seven days. That’s one of the traditions we brought with us from Old Earth when we colonized New Republic. Surely you use something like that.”
“Our ancestors wanted a clean break with Old Earth,” Corey said. “There are a number of traditions and habits that they refused to use.” She paused, trying to find the right word. “A collection of days ... we call that a tenday. There are three tendays in a month, 14 months in a year, and a several extra days tacked in here and there to make the calendar work out right. Of course our day is shorter than on Earth, so that means the unit of time isn’t the same.” She shook her head. “I will have to sit down and calculate the difference.”
“Don’t put yourself through the trouble,” Alan said. These were a different people with different ideas, he reminded himself.
“Are you going to be on the ground for very long?” Corey asked.
“Several months,” Alan replied, “your months. The doctors said six months was the maximum we could stay on the surface without suffering any permanent injury.”
Corey nodded. “You must have really impressed them. Normally visitors who aren’t part of the Families have to stay at the protected station in the Ring. I’m told the shielding reduces the radiation there to less than Earth Normal.”
“We insisted that we needed fresh air and blue skies,” Alan said. “I haven’t been outside in nearly a year.” He frowned. “A ring? There’s a ring around your planet?”
“When we came here there were quite a few rocks orbiting the planet,” Corey said. “I think something like 99% of them were in a ring, and when we went back into space we collected the others and put them there, too. That includes a number of much larger planetoids. Students taking Astrogation get to work out the orbits of some of the rocks in the Ring with all of those larger rocks influencing them.”
She walked over to the window, conscious of his bulk right behind her. She pointed toward the mountains lining the eastern horizon. “If you look carefully you can see part of it. At night the Ring looks like the base of an arch. We’re far enough from the equator that it appears to be about a finger-width wide.”
Alan followed her finger. He could see a streak rising from the horizon. It disappeared in the darkness of the overhead sky, though he could see individual lights moving in the same arc.
“I thought it was nearly sunset,” he said. “Why is the sky so bright in the east?”
“That’s the Nebula,” Corey said. “During the day it appears as a bright patch in the sky. At night it fills most of the sky, washing out almost all of the stars. Some say it’s bright enough to read by, though I have never tried that myself.”
Alan could see an aurora flickering brightly to the Northeast. That was a reminder of the radiation that was probably washing through him even as they spoke.
“Our star is only moderately active,” Corey said when she saw where he was looking, “and we get a lot of stellar wind from the Nebula. When we were younger my sibs and I used to sneak out and watch the sky for hours.”
“Sibs,” he said, retreating to a nearby couch. “You’ve mentioned them before. Is that what you mean by sib-sisters?” She nodded. “I’ve heard the term, but I didn’t know what it meant. They’re your biological sisters?” Corey nodded again. “Then why do you call them sib-sisters? What’s the difference between a sib-sister and a sister? I have a sister, for instance.”
Corey was silent for several seconds. “We have ... when we have babies we have them in threes,” she said, “except for boys, of course. When we have boys we only have them one at a time. My sib-sisters--Heather and Sonia--when my mother birthed me, she birthed them at the same time.”
“Triplets,” Alan said, understanding lighting his face.
“Triplets?” Corey looked puzzled. “Oh, you mean three of a kind. But why have a unique word for something that’s normal?”
“It isn’t a normal with my people,” Alan said. “It’s actually pretty rare in the rest of the galaxy. I didn’t notice any men. Where are they?”
“We’re ... each Family...” She stopped, and Alan could see the flush rise to her cheeks.
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