Chapter 2

The three divisions were lined up in their grey uniforms with not a hair out of place, every button and shoe shined to perfection. This was the culmination of six months of training, six months that had taken civilians and turned them into spacemen. The senior division — formed up in two ranks — contained the officers, eighteen of them being commissioned as Second Lieutenants and four — the best of the class — passing out as First Lieutenants.

The two lower divisions contained the ratings and were formed up in three ranks, one hundred and eight men and women who were trained to run the new ships of the Fleet Auxiliary under the guidance of the officers.

Admiral Hargreaves, Commander in Chief Taskforce Earth looked over the graduating class and smiled, the speeches were just about over. The band had played and the students had passed in review, all that remained were his final words and they’d be free.

“And so it is with great pleasure that I congratulate you all and wish you well for the future.”

Admiral Hargreaves came to attention on the dais and the Sergeant Major running the parade called out, “Three cheers for the Admiral, hip hip...”

As the third cheer died away a swarm of caps flew into the air and the students broke away chattering, cheering and smiling at one another. Commodore (Brigadier) Bushman moved up to the Admiral and waited.

“How did it go Dan?” the Admiral asked.

“Not bad at all, Admiral,” the Commodore said, “Mr Kirk really did finish second overall and deserved to qualify as a First Lieutenant. The rest, well it seemed strange having concubines in some of the classes but I didn’t make a fuss about it and I’m fairly certain that half the instructors never even twigged on. It helped that most of them were pretty intelligent to start with and missing out the military side of things always seems to fit well with Auxiliary people.” He looked over the milling throng, “Give them a couple of months to find their way around a ship and they should manage the basics pretty well. I’m still not sure how they’ll get on if it goes tits up — and no — I’m not changing my mind about sending out experienced people with them. Their very expendability is what makes this whole idea viable and I’m not going to counter that.”

Admiral Hargreaves turned to his companion and grinned, “Couldn’t agree more, Dan, so don’t go getting in a flap about it. Tors promoted a Marine to officer for the same reason though I’m willing to bet that two years from now, any of them that survive will be able to name their own job and get it.”

“True, but that’s two years away,” he caught the SCPOs eye and nodded towards the refreshments tent, “if we go and get a drink the ‘graduates’ will join us and you can see for yourself how they’ve done.”

“Lead on Dan, speech making always brings on a thirst,” said the Admiral.

Across the parade ground Jean-Paul Kirk, newly promoted to First Lieutenant was gathering together the rest of his crew, and smiling at the label. They really were a crew now and he was going to be the man in charge.

Wendy Simons had finished fourth in the class and had also been commissioned as a First Lieutenant, Fay Horten had finished fifth — much to her disgust — and was the senior of the Second Lieutenants graduating. Gail MacDonald, Hannah Cambell and Rhonna Evans had all successfully completed the course and were wearing the single bar that signified a Second Lieutenant.

As the cluster of new officers crossed towards the refreshment tent and the informal meeting with the Admiral, a lone figure in the uniform of a Marine detached herself from the crowd and moved forward to join the group.

Jean-Paul was the first to spot her, “Gabby!” he called out excitedly, “They didn’t find you another job then.”

“No Jaypee,” she halted, “Sorry, Sir,” she said putting up a salute grinning wildly.

Jean-Paul waved at her, “Pack it in, it’s party time,” he said as he slipped an arm around her. “What have you been up to while we’ve been slaving away here?” The pair of them had stayed in contact but censorship had restricted what they’d been able to say and as busy as they’d been they hadn’t bothered trying to find a way around it.

“What do you think,” she said exasperatedly, “I’ve been doing the same thing as you lot, officer school to teach me how to do my job properly, God it was hard — but oh so boring,” she said with feeling.

“Well hopefully things will go on being boring,” said Jean-Paul, “but without the hard work,” he concluded with a grin.

“Come on, let’s get this over and done with,” he said leading them into the tent, “You really shouldn’t keep an Admiral waiting, you know.”

The newly named Confederation Space Ship Pytheas sat on the end of a docking arm just waiting for her new crew to arrive. Her journey from the holding yard to Earth had been slow under the command of a Darjee crew — who’d handed her over to the humans as soon as they could — and then gone home.

She’d spent all of the available time since her arrival linked with the station’s AI getting herself updated on the current situation and in particular with the foibles of her new masters, these humans. It had taken time to assimilate the differences between this aggressive race and the normal requirements for trading in the Confederacy but — after scanning all the available information on the Sa’arm — she understood the need.

It felt right that the weapons were back on their mounts — and now that the Darjee had departed — had been activated. She — and the data concerning humans indicated that a ship should have a female persona — didn’t think it was right for a ship to be anything less than one hundred percent efficient.

She’d watched and logged the actions of the space station staff as they’d made the required changes, removing the empty carriers and fitting the new habitat units. Adding weapons to the shuttle, stocking the various replicators and hydroponics units in the main hull and all the other intricate details necessary to prepare her for operations.

Now there was just a hand-over crew aboard who — like her — were waiting for the arrival of her real crew.

At that moment her prospective captain, Jean-Paul Kirk was standing at the end of the boarding tube looking through the clear windows at the ship he was about to take command of. The Pytheas looked like a very stretched space shuttle with cylindrical pods strapped to her top and sides. She even had stubby wings and a vertical tail to assist with atmospheric manoeuvring, not that you’d want to try it without dumping the pods beforehand. She was painted in the light grey so familiar to fans of the Enterprise in that old sci-fi series Star Trek and looked about as threatening as a Volkswagen Beetle, something which Jean-Paul had no problems with.