Chapter 16: Arsenal Gate

I woke from a dreamless sleep and was glad of that. The most recent events weren’t the stuff that made for pleasant dreams. I rubbed my eyes. The sleep inducer of my seat had been turned off and that meant we were close to my final destination.

After arriving on Palomino, a pleasant garden world, I stayed in a hotel for a week and did some thankfully uneventful sightseeing to pass the time.

Seven days ago, I had boarded a space bus and after a short layover at Corri-Door (This time I decided to remain aboard the bus) I was finally on my way to Arsenal and to a new chapter in my life.

I swung the seat into its upright position and deactivated the opaque privacy bubble. I saw other passengers of the space bus do the same. One of the flight attendant robots floated down the middle isle and started to announce, “Dear passengers we’re approaching Arsenal Gate. We’ll dock at the station in 25 minutes. All passengers with destinations beyond Arsenal system are asked to remain in the lounge area. The space station is a military installation and is off limits to non-military personnel. Passengers with destinations within Arsenal System please gather your personal belongings and prepare for debarkation. Greylines Incorporated cannot be held responsible for items left behind.”

The robot had reached the end of the aisle of this passenger compartment, turned around in a fluid motion and continued, “Arsenal Gate maintains a nitrogen oxygen atmosphere and living conditions suitable for oxygen breathing carbon life forms. Non-humanoid life forms with special needs are asked to remain in their protective suits or keep their life support devices active.

“This space bus will remain docked for three hours and resume its journey to our next destination, the Barrows System. We’ll reach Moon base Nome in seven standard days.”

The attendant robot repeated his message.

I suppressed a yawn and wondered why I never really felt refreshed when I used a sleep inducer and dialed for a drink of water at the Serv-matic installed in front of me. Moments later and half a credit poorer I sipped the cold water.

“You’re getting off at Arsenal as well?” asked a male humanoid sitting next to me.

“Yes,” I answered, putting the film cup into the waste recycler.

I guessed he was about my age. He had white-blond, short-cropped hair. His skin had a rosy shine and his face was covered with freckles. He held out his hand. “I’m Derek Simmons from Harvest 12.”

I shook his hand. “I’m Eric Olafson and I’m from Nilfeheim.”

“I’m certain you’ve never heard of Harvest 12, but then I wouldn’t blame you, no one ever has.”

“Nope I never heard of Harvest 12, but then I don’t think you know about Nilfeheim.”

He smiled. “Actually I do. I saw a National Galactic show about it on GalNet not that long ago. Isn’t that the planet where they have those really big fish?”

“Yep, sure enough that’s Nilfeheim, we call them Tyrannos. Why don’t you tell me about Harvest 12?”

He sighed, “We don’t have anything exciting on Harvest 12. It’s a boring planet, entirely dedicated to raising and growing agricultural products. The planet is owned by SII Agra Corp and is completely terraformed. If there ever was any native life in the past, there isn’t any now. Our entire planet has been sterilized, homogenized, fertilized, leveled and plowed a thousand times over. We have no seasons, weather control and orbital mirrors see to that. The weather is always just perfect for the crops and we have wheat fields as big as continents and that’s about all there is to Harvest 12, just like Harvest 1 through 56, identical cookie cutter worlds. The only differences are crop rotations.” He sounded cynical and sighed, “My father is an agri-bot technician, my grandfather was an agri-bot technician and so was his father. I simply had to get away or I would have ended up doing the same thing.”

“Nilfeheim isn’t all that exciting either. We have really long winters, lots of snow and lots of water. All we export is ice and fish.”

He smiled. “So are you applying to the Academy or are you going to enlist?”

“I’m trying to apply at the Academy first.”

“So am I. I want to become an engineer. One day I’ll have my own Engine Room on a battleship.”

“That’s a tall goal,” said a dark-skinned being, leaning over the back of his seat so he could look at us. “But that’s what I’m dreaming about as well.”

The being was humanoid proportioned, had two arms and three-fingered hands, but his eyes were huge and his ears looked like dinner plates glued to the side of his head. His body was covered by a short black pelt and he had red eyes.

His lower jaw was pronounced and he had rows of sharp teeth. “I’m Mix,” he introduced himself, “And I’m from ThreeOz.”

“I never meet a ThreeOzian,” said Derek. “Where is your planet?”

“I’m from across the Bridge. I come from M31. My race is one of the newest members and I’m the first of my species to try to become a cadet.”

“You come from Andromeda?” I repeated. “That’s sure a long way from home. Don’t they have an Academy branch there?”

He looked at me for at least a minute without any reaction and then nodded. “Yes, it’s a long way indeed. I’m also sorry for my delayed answer. I had to remember that nodding your head means yes to most humanoids.” Mix made a gesture with his ears. “I think the Navy has two academies in our galaxy, but they’re at capacity with applicants, so they diverted me to here.”

“Almost everything is just as alien to me. What gesture do you use in your culture for saying yes?”

“Like this.” His dinner plate-shaped ears spread away from his head like opening hatches.

“I doubt I could move my ears that far away from my head, even with a lot of practice.”

Derek laughed. “I have an uncle who could say yes the ThreeOzian way just fine. He has big ears and everyone in my family always made fun of him.” He placed his hands to his ears and so simulated larger ears and moved them back and forth.

The black pelted alien chirped in a happy way. “That actually would be a good way for Humans to say yes. Gestures with a meaning are so hard to understand, more so than language I find. The first time a Terran smiled at me I thought he was angry and wanted to eat me.”

“Eat you?” I asked with a surprised tone in my voice.

“The display of teeth is a sign of extreme hostility where I come from and usually means I’m so angry at you I’ll eat you.”

“Does that happen? I mean do folks eat each other where you come from?”

“Not anymore but in the old days they did. It’s against the law to eat anyone now.”

“I’m sure glad they outlawed it. Otherwise, I might smile at a ThreeOzian and end up on his dinner table.” I said with a smile.

“Don’t worry, Human. Your kind doesn’t taste all that good to us.”

Our attention was diverted by someone a few seats ahead pointing at the big view screen that provided passengers with a view of the space ahead of the ship. “I can see the station now. I’m sure glad we’re through that darn corridor.”

“A space bus would be an easy target.” Derek added with a gloomy undertone.

A passenger across the aisle, looking older than most of the other passengers turned.

“I live on Nome Moon in the Barrow System, that’s even closer to GC space than Arsenal and much less protected and we don’t worry too much. The Nogoll, the closest Galactic Council thralls, were kicked out of the GC and the Corridor is actually no longer in GC space at all. The Eternal Warrior sure showed them who’s master in this universe just a little while back.

“Either those black goat heads are already on their way to Pluribus and hope we accept them or our Fleet is preparing to make this part of space Nogoll free.”

Derek didn’t share the same confidence as the older man. “This is still just a space bus and the Nogoll might want revenge or the Kermac made this a gigantic trap of some kind.”

The man laughed. “You worry too much for a future cadet. You forget we still have Admiral Stahl and the Devastator. Whatever else might fail, the Kermac sure don’t want to mess with him. The Goats lost 2000 ships trying.” The man crossed his arms and looked pretty confident.

Evoking the name of the mystical, immortal admiral made Derek smile. “You’re right, the Galactic Community wouldn’t want to make him angry.”

“Who are you talking about,” asked the ThreeOzian.

Derek almost glowed as he said, “He’s an Immortal and 3000 years old. He’s the greatest warrior of all time. They once chased him away, didn’t heed his warnings, so he left for centuries, but when everything looked lost and it seemed we would be destroyed by the Y’All he returned with a huge battleship of unknown origin and incredibly powerful weapons and saved us all.”

“I’m sorry for my ignorance. We ThreeOzians joined only recently and we do come from another galaxy. How can he be 3000 years old?”

The older man across the aisle smiled. “We always welcome new members in our Union. Once you accept Union laws and the Assembly has no objections everyone is welcome. No need to be sorry. As for the Immortals, that’s an old story and no one knows the details anymore, except the Immortals themselves, but it was at a time when Terra was still isolated and Terrans hadn’t discovered faster-than-light travel. A hostile species called the Xunx awoke from an inactivity cycle to once more conquer and destroy. One of the planets that would have been attacked was Terra. They say a godlike machine left behind on Terra, perhaps by the Celtest, awoke and helped humankind to the stars by choosing two hundred Humans, giving them special tasks, secret powers and immortality. Richard Stahl was chosen to be the Warrior and boy did that Guardian choose right. I don’t care so much about the other Immortals that are left but Stahl is my hero.”

“It’s all just myth and legend,” someone behind us grunted. “There are no Immortals, no mystic gods or entities. It’s propaganda and made up stories. I think Stahl and the others are clones or avatars and are reproduced whenever they’re needed.”

“But Encyclopedia Galactica confirms what the man just said,” complained yet another passenger.

“No machine could put the same fear in our enemies as Stahl can. He and the Devi aren’t holos or simulations,” a woman spoke with a proud smile. “I saw him once.”

Meanwhile, the space station showing on the view screen was getting bigger by the moment. It was a gigantic, elongated spherical construct with a thick ring around its equator. Huge illuminated letters in Standard identified it as ‘ARSENAL GATE.’

The actual Arsenal system, so I had learned, was still a light year away, but no civilian traffic was allowed to approach the system directly and had to go through Arsenal Gate.

Arsenal was one of the biggest Fleet base systems. Several Fleet departments were headquartered here and it was considered to be the best guarded and defended system in the known universe. I read all this in my spare time while I was on Palomino, reading and watching GalNet shows wasn’t really exciting but kept me out of trouble, at least while on Palomino.

The space bus approached an enormous docking gate, from the looks of it it was probably able to accommodate full-size Union battleships. We slipped through the shimmering energy membrane that separated the inside of the dock from space.

The robot repeated its announcement once again and added, “Thank you for choosing Greylines as your transportation service provider. Please consider us again. A ticket kiosk and booking agent can be found in the Civilian Accessible section of the Greylines docking area.”

I debarked with at least 300 beings from all over Union Space to stand in line before the station access doors. A four-armed, non-humanoid giant wearing Fleet uniform and two heavily armed Space Marines in bulky Destroyer suits checked everyone before they let them pass.

“That’s a Petharian,” said Mix. “He comes from Andromeda too but they’ve been members for a long time. They’re as mean as and even stronger than your galaxy’s Nul-Nul.”

“Is it true what I heard, that they’re related to the Y’All?” asked Derek.

Mix wiggled his ears back and forth. “That’s the rumor, but not according to the Encyclopedia Galactica. They do look similar to Y’All that’s for sure.” He lowered the volume of his voice and came closer. “Never mention that rumor to a Petharian if you value your health.”

I too had learned about the Y’All in Gal History and Xeno class, but I never heard of the Petharians or that rumor. “How come you know so much about other species?” I asked Derek.

“I have a subscription to Galactic Geographic magazine. There’s nothing I’d rather read or watch. I’ve collected every issue since 3300 and my mother sends me even older downloads whenever she finds one. She works at the Harvest 12 public library.”

I felt suddenly a little ashamed for never having gone to the public library we had on Nilfeheim.

Derek raised an eyebrow; probably guessing what I was thinking and said, “I didn’t wanted to sound like a geek, but going to the library and going on virtu Expeditions with the GGM was a wonderful escape for me when I was a kid. I’m no data head or anything like that.”

I grinned back. “I know what you mean. I loved Captain Iron Hand virtus and watched every experience the Union Fleet gave me in the information package the recruiter gave me.”

Mix wiggled his ears. “Jane’s Ship Registry was my favorite recording of all the data chips in that package, with virtual tours of every space ship type. I checked out every one at least twice.”

“That’s a lot of ships to check out,” Derek said. “It would take years to see them all.”

“It did, it took seven years to be exact.” Mix said proudly.

The place was enormous. The floor had a coating of a rough, black material. White and yellow markings directed traffic, designated landing areas and places of danger. In the distance behind us stood the huge docking gate. It was so big I was certain you could have stacked five burgs on top of each other, complete with Ragnarsson’s Rock, and shoved it through with room to spare. The emptiness of deep space loomed behind it. Four more space buses had arrived and each added throngs of beings to the long line of applicants.

It took the better part of an hour before it was my turn. The Petharian Fleet officer eyed me up and down with glowing yellow eyes, and it had six of them. Its skin looked like the surface of a barnacle and its voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a steel barrel. “State your name and your home planet. Expose your Citizen ID implant for scanning.”

While I swiped my right wrist where my CIT was implanted across the reader sensor I answered, “Eric Olafson, Nilfeheim.”

It seemed to look at something beyond me; it probably had the data read out projected straight to one of its eyes. “Olafson, Eric. Nilfeheim. Citizenship confirmed. Your reason for visiting Arsenal gate?”

“I want to apply at the Academy.”

“Academy applicants are to follow the red line and proceed to the red waiting room. You will wait there until you receive further instructions. Be advised that if you’re found outside the red marked areas you might get shot.” After saying that the being no longer paid any attention to me and barked, “Next.”

The red line was one of several differently colored light bands in the floor and after following the red line for about a kilometer through a featureless corridor I reached a red door revealing a waiting lounge with rows of bionetic chairs. To the left were large windows, allowing a view into deep space and the brisk traffic of small and large spacecraft. Another wall was taken up by a row of Serv-matic vending machines. The wall facing the entrance had recruiting posters, for the Fleet and for the United Stars Marine Corps. There also was a small podium and a lectern. The room started to fill with humanoid and non-humanoid beings. I walked over to the view ports and gazed outside. Just then a wedge-shaped battleship of the new Uni design emerged from the station, dwarfing a heavy destroyer nearby as it gained speed and disappeared.

“That was the USS Melbourne.” It was Derek who had stepped next to me. “Have you ever seen a battleship for real?”

“Yes, one landed on Nilfeheim.”

“I wonder what mission they were on, maybe patrolling the Nul-Nul border, or hunting pirates.”

Mix joined us as well and he said, “My people fought a long war with the Briaaad and we were about to be conquered. You can’t imagine our wonder and awe as we saw an entire squadron of those Union battleships appear in our system, blasting through the Briaaad invasion fleet like a Nastooh wind through a Nolch forest.” Mix’s red eyes became even bigger. “We applied for membership to the United Stars the very next day, and one day I’ll be aboard one of those ships visiting other worlds. Repaying with my service what you all have done for us.”

A fish-faced Ult overheard Mix and said, “The Briaaad made one big and fatal mistake - they fired on a Terran Explorer ship and angered the Terrans. Everyone in this galaxy knows you don’t make Terrans angry.”

Before anyone else could say anything, a humanoid female in a black uniform stepped behind the lectern and her voice was obviously field-amplified as she said, “Welcome aboard Arsenal Gate, Academy applicants. I would like to thank you all for coming this far and considering a career in the United Stars Spatial Navy. By doing so you showed your willingness to serve and protect this federation of civilizations and do your share to make it work. Some have come here after visiting a recruiting office. Some of you might have simply boarded the space bus to Arsenal Gate to see what would happen.

“All of you will have a chance to be evaluated. Before we ship you to Arsenal we need to test you. It’s an exhaustive process, including a battery of tests to find out if you meet the qualification requirements. Those requirements are of a physical and mental nature. Some of the tests we have you perform are to make sure that no agent of a hostile civilization gains access to the Academy or Arsenal.

“Once you step through that door next to me you are Fleet personnel. You have no rank but you’re subject to all Fleet rules and regulations. Civilian laws and rights have no meaning. You must follow orders and do what you have been told. Failure to comply can result in punishment and dismissal.”

She paused and looked from one end of the lobby to the other. “I’m not here to discourage you. We welcome you and the Fleet needs officers and personnel. But we don’t want anyone who has doubts or isn’t here to fully commit to this choice of career.

“Now is the time to think about it. If you feel you made the wrong decision coming here, simply remain in this room and you’ll receive free passage back to your home world or any other place in the United Stars territory you choose.

“You’ll be compensated for your troubles and receive 500 credits and a free dinner. No civilian record will be kept of this decision and it won’t affect your citizen status.”

A man dressed in some sort of transparent purple plastic-film suit and not much else raised his hand. “Excuse me; did you say we get free passage to anywhere and 500 credits?”

The woman sighed and nodded. “Yes sir, that’s correct.”

The strangely dressed man got up. “That’s sounds good to me. I’m out of here.”

To my surprise seven more decided to take the money and leave. I wondered why anyone would make this trip just to get 500 credits.

Mix answered me. “There are some individuals who do that every three months. They travel from Academy to Academy get their ticket and the 500 and go on. They have no intention to join. That man in the plastic garment has probably done that a hundred times.”

I gasped, “And the Fleet doesn’t keep records on that and lets them get away with it?”

“I don’t know but I’m sure the Fleet keeps records of everything and they know about it, but what are a few thousand credits to the Fleet? They spend ten times as much every micro-second just for floor polish.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I read their minds.”

“You are a telepath?”

He nodded. “Not as good as the Saresii but my Heidelberg Psi Index is at 223.”

“Don’t get caught. It’s against the law to read other folks’ minds.”

“No, it’s not. It’s illegal to pry into it but I can’t help but overhear what they transmit. It would be same as to make overhearing a conversation illegal to any being that has ears.”

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