Ambush
People were constantly being disappointed by space travel. That was because most space ships were small, cramped, box-like crafts. Old-style aero travel was glamorous in comparison. Never mind that these ships had some of the most advanced engines mankind had ever produced. Never mind that they had a degree of handling and control that was undreamed of. Never mind that the way they gleefully thumbed their noses at relativistic physics had made the colonization of space a physical reality in under a century. Space ships were ugly, and, therefore, no one was very interested.
This wasn't the case with the Glory. It was an aeronautical engineer's wet dream. It looked like someone had lacquered an eagle and then painted it gold. It stood there in the hangar that was adjacent to Dr Bartholomew's lab, somehow managing to find the self-respect to gleam, even though the room was almost entirely dark.
It seemed to be looking down at Jenny, silently saying to her, "Hey baby, forget these losers, let's go to some uncharted corner of the galaxy and get better acquainted."
"There are forms you have to fill out," interrupted Dr Bartholomew in his nasal whine, "That is, if you are sure you want the command."
Reluctantly Jenny tore her eyes away from the ship, how could she have even dreamed of refusing the commission.
Suddenly, a handkerchief was being given to her.
"You're drooling," said Betty with an evil smile. She was on her fourth cup of black coffee and had spent some time freshening up in the ladies room, so she now looked considerably more human.
If Jenny had not been so totally transfixed by the Glory, she had no doubt she could have come up with a devastating rejoinder to her friends comment. As it was, she just stared up at the ship with a sense of rapturous awe. She was hardly embarrassed at all when she noticed that she had been unconsciously dabbing at the saliva on the corner of her mouth.
Meanwhile, Andrew was looking at the ship a little more critically. He touched it carefully with his index finger.
"Warm," he said, "Its coated with nanotic solar cells? I didn't believe work on them had progressed past the theoretical."
Dr Bartholomew scowled, he had learned to loathe questions from Andrew, "Yes, well, we don't release all of our findings to the press."
"The paint is actually absorbing solar energy to power the ship," Andrew said to her, translating for the layman, then adding, "This new engine must use a huge amount of power."
Dr Bartholomew gave a pained look which Jenny knew meant that Andrew had caught him in a lie. The doctor was spared having to make a response by the Brigadier.
"Perhaps," he said, "Our new Captain Drake would like to take her ship on a test run, I'm sure that the paperwork can wait."
Dr Bartholomew clearly considered this the lesser of two evils.
"Fine," he said, hobbling towards the controls for the skylight. He flicked a switch and the ceiling of the hangar began to split in two.
Space Ports were always located high above any inhabited areas, for safety. Since Dr Bartholomew did so much aeronautics research, his lab was located at one of the highest points of the Academy, and it had its launch pad. Since so much of his work was experimental, it was located very far away from the official Academy space port.
As the skylight fell away, Jenny was treated to a breathtaking view of clear-blue sky unimpeded by any of the space-ships which so frequently cluttered up the sky.
Only it wasn't. Jenny noticed three black dots, in the sky, slowly growing larger before her eyes.
One look and Jenny knew that the Brigadier had seen them too. His body tensed up.
"This is a no-fly zone," he said, staring up at the dots.
Suddenly, the dots were very big indeed. From her courses in aircraft identification, Jenny recognized that they were Mercurian Light Warships. These were small, two-man ships used in bombing runs and in close combat. Everyone seemed transfixed by their approach. They must have been moving at terrific speed because they were now so close that Jenny could read their markings. Now they were close enough that Jenny could see their gun ports beginning to glow red, which, at the time, she recalled thinking was odd.
She remembered what happened next almost as if it was a dream, a barely coherent jumble of thoughts and sensations. She remembered being surprised and a little bit angry when the Brigadier suddenly and with no warning, grabbed her and roughly threw her to the floor. Then she heard the hot sizzle and smelled the faint whiff of ozone which was the hallmark of a ray blast. This was followed by the scream of metal being torn apart like tissue, then the smell of dust.
Something hard hit her head, and she gathered some time must have passed because someone kept screaming, "Are you alright? Are you alright?" at her. It was the Brigadier. Slowly, Jenny noticed that he was bleeding from his leg.
She wanted to tell him that she was fine, but the dust and the smoke which suddenly filled the room made it impossible. She nodded, which seemed to satisfy him, because he leaned backwards, groaning as he did so.
The hangar was covered in rubble. With relief, Jenny saw that the Glory was still in one piece. This was important, but at the moment she couldn't quite remember why. Surveying the room, Jenny noticed that Betty was still standing there, absurdly clutching her coffee cup, while she looked up out of the skylight. Then Jenny saw what she was looking at: the War Ships had veered back around for a second attack run. The gun port on the lead ship had begun to glow, and the only thing standing between it and the Glory was Betty, who stood their staring at it numbly, like a deer trapped in headlights.
Someone should do something, thought Jenny vaguely.
To be continued...
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Monday, October 8, 2007
Retro Tomorrow: Part 5
The Morning After: Redux
"My head hurts," said Andrew as he carefully slid the lid to the Resonator into place, "Is that normal?"
"Yes," said Jenny testily, "Its normal. My head hurts too. Its supposed to hurt after you've been out drinking."
"Then why did we do it?" Andrew asked, his face a mask of innocent scientific inquiry.
Jenny scowled at him, but it was a very good point.
"Oh I don't know," she said after being unable to come up with a compelling reason, "Its just what you're supposed to do after you graduate. Its supposed to be 'fun' whatever that means."
Jenny had problems with the word 'fun'. It seemed that her definition of fun differed from that of the rest of the universe. For most of her classmates at the Academy, fun seemed to involve getting together in a dark room, playing music as loud as possible and drinking yourself sick, with various sex acts to follow where applicable (if any obliging young women were present). As the only woman at the Academy, many of her classmates tried to get her interested in this kind of fun, but she couldn't see in the dark, the music gave her a headache, and the alcohol generally made her sick. Of course, most of her classmates would have been happy to skip directly to the various sex acts but if they suggested as much to her, then they usually found out why she scored top of the class in unarmed combat.
For her classmates, fun seemed to be a destination but for Jenny it was a journey. Most of the time she didn't even realize she was having fun until after the fact. She would think back on some afternoon she'd spent helping Andrew with one of his experiments, or helping Betty try and find that most elusive of objects, the perfect pair of shoes to go with a dress she'd bought, and Jenny would think, that was fun, often in surprise. Jenny usually experienced fun in the past tense, she was usually too nervous to experience it in the present.
Andrew seemed satisfied by this explanation. "One thing bothers me, though, I think that I drank about half a bottle of wine last night. What about you?"
"That sounds about right," she said, "Why?"
"Well, didn't we order three bottles?"
"Ah, that would have been Betty," she said adding to herself: Never go out drinking with Betty again unless you bring along a portable stomach pump.
"She did seem rather intoxicated."
"No, Andrew," said Jenny shortly, "We were 'rather intoxicated'. Betty was sloshed."
Meanwhile, deep inside herself, the fuse had begun to burn.
Andrew busied himself making adjustments to the Resonator.
Finally, he looked up, "I hope she's feeling alright this morning."
Here it comes, thought Jenny and managed to say "She'll be fine."
What she meant, of course, was "If you have any portions of your anatomy which you wish to have painfully removed, then, by all means, continue this conversation, otherwise shut the Hell up."
Andrew wouldn't have been Andrew, though, if he'd ever learned to recognize a subtle hint, and so he said, "Maybe we should have checked in on her?"
"You seem awfully concerned about Betty all of a sudden," said Jenny a little too shrilly, "I mean, considering you could barely remember who she was before last night."
Unaware of the extreme danger he was in, Andrew smiled, "That's funny isn't it. How could I not have noticed somebody as nice as her?"
"Yeah," said Jenny through clenched teeth, "funny."
"I was wondering," said Andrew who was apparently not content to just pull the tiger's tail, he had to splash water on it and make derogatory jokes about its parents too, "Do you think she would mind if I asked her out sometime?"
The words were burning their way out of her mouth before she even noticed, "Look, this is clearly going to be a thing between us, so I just want to say right off that I think it was really unfair how you took advantage of Betty last night."
And that was the thing about Andrew, when you got angry at him, he didn't get angry back, he didn't yell and call you names. He just looked at you with those sad puppy-dog eyes of his and made you feel like a heartless monster.
"I just kissed her," he said, in that kicked puppy voice he always used.
He wasn't going to get out of it, this time, thought Jenny.
"You just kissed her? Is that what you call it? That wasn't a kiss, that was like...mouth sex or something."
"She started it," Andrew said helplessly.
"She was drunk," said Jenny, "You had no right to take advantage of her like that." Adding, to herself, that her righteous anger had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she was positive that in the six years that she'd known Andrew, he'd never harbored so much as an impure thought about her. She was definately not jealous of Betty in the slightest, and more importantly, she was positive she wasn't in denial.
"Oh," said Andrew, "I didn't realize you felt so strongly."
"This isn't about me!" said Jenny, "It doesn't bother me in the slightest who you choose to kiss. Its just that Betty is my oldest friend, I don't want to see her hurt. Why should I care who you kiss?"
In the face of such a grotesque distortion of facts, Jenny at least had the decency to look away.
"I'm sorry," said Andrew calmly, "I don't want anything to come between our friendship, and I would never want to hurt any of your friends, I'll leave Betty alone."
That was another thing that infuriated Jenny about Andrew. He was so damn agreeable. Here she was, with a dozen arguments about why he shouldn't date Betty, and he suddenly blows them all out of the water by agreeing with her.
She sniffed. "We've known each other for six years," she said a bit more quietly, "and its not like you ever even tried to kiss me. What? Were you saving it all up until after we graduated?"
Andrew smiled and even blushed a little bit, Jenny thought it actually looked quite sweet.
"Is that what this is about?" he said.
The tension was drained from the moment, Jenny saw it now, this had all been one of those wacky little mix ups.
"Well, not as such," she said slowly, feeling her own cheeks burning, "I mean, I never even really thought about before, but when I saw you kissing her, I suddenly thought, why couldn't that have been me."
"Oh, I'm sorry Jenny, I didn't realize you felt that way. You're my best friend, but I don't think I could ever date you...."
She cut him off, she understood exactly what he meant. "Yeah," she said laughing, "It would be too weird, right, like kissing your sister."
Andrew joined in the laughter. "Yeah," he said, "and besides, you're way too scary."
Jenny was no longer laughing.
"What. Did. You. Say?" she asked him, and now Andrew wasn't laughing either.
"Well," he said nervously, holding the Resonator in front of him like a shield, "You, um, kind of have the reputation around the school."
"A reputation?" she said in a voice which she did not feel was scary in the slightest, "What kind of reputation?"
"Well, remember that guy during our second year who said you had a nice ass during P.T. and how he had to use a walker for the rest of the semester and his roommate said he used to wake up at night screaming?"
"Yeah," said Jenny, "What about him?"
"Well, that was kind of scary."
"I send one sexist pig to the infirmary, and I'm branded for life."
"Then there was that guy two years ago, who you kicked in the...um...midsection. Then there was the time....."
"Look," said Jenny plaintively, "If you're just going to bring up every person I've nearly crippled, then I think this is going to be a very unfair conversation."
"Uh..." said Andrew.
"Look," she said, advancing on him, "You've seen me almost every day for the last six years, right?"
"Uh...yes?" hazarded Andrew, his grip on the Resonator tightening.
"Exactly!" exclaimed Jenny, a great point won, "And you've seen that I can be an extremely sensitive person when people aren't mouthing off to me."
"Uh...." said Andrew who was clutching the Resonator like a talisman.
Jenny's eyes narrowed.
"That's right isn't it?" she prompted her voice promising untold dangers should this not be the case.
"Oh, yes, yes," replied Andrew quickly, "Of course. The model of sensitivity."
"There were probably plenty of times you wanted to kiss me, you were just too shy, weren't there?"
"Uh...." said Andrew,whose knuckles were growing white.
"I said 'Weren't there?'" shouted Jenny, the shrinking violet.
"Uh, Jenny," said Andrew, "If I drop the Resonator, chances are good that we will both die in a horrible explosion. Do you want that?"
Jenny blinked, as if assessing the situation for the first time. She had made a quite significant incursion into Andrew's personal space, causing him to lean backwards in a remarkably good imitation of a Limbo dancer. She noticed that he had begun to sweat, which she decided to attribute to his hangover, and not to the fact that she was, in any way, frightening him.
She backed off, sniffed again, and took a minute to smooth down her uniform. Andrew seized the opportunity to put his invention down next to the door of Dr Bartholomew's lab.
"So," said Jenny, choosing to pretend that the last five minutes had never happened, "What's this doohickey supposed to do anyway, I've been helping you with it all night and I still have no idea."
Andrew was so grateful to be back at a subject he understood, he was more than willing to join in the group Amnesia.
"Its a machine that generates a beam of low level vibrations. The effect should be negligible on solid objects, but on fluids, it should be quite explosive."
"Like," said Jenny with mock innocence, "A cabinet full of chemicals like the one in old Barty's lab."
"Exactly, Ms Drake, full marks."
"Andrew, my friend," she said, their argument, if not forgotten, at least postponed, "You have a frightening mind. I only hope it never falls into the right hands."
Andrew threw the switch. Jenny felt a dull throbbing somewhere behind her temples.
"It will take a minute," said Andrew grinning, every bit the mad scientist.
Jenny waited in breathless anticipation. Nevertheless it gnawed at her that people at the Academy thought she was scary. She might be a trifle irritable, its true, and maybe she might be a little hot tempered, and, yes, she might not be the most friendly person in the world, and, OK, technically, she did seem to get into more than her fair share of fights, and fine, a few people might have had to undergo emergency surgery, but it just wasn't fair callling her scary.
The sound of exploding glassware interupted her revereies. Andrew gleefully shut off his machine.
Fine, she decided, if they wanted scary, she could do scary. She threw open the doors to the lab and strode in like she owned the place.
Oh dear, Dr Bartholomew," she said, "All your chemicals seem to have exploded."
To be continued...
"My head hurts," said Andrew as he carefully slid the lid to the Resonator into place, "Is that normal?"
"Yes," said Jenny testily, "Its normal. My head hurts too. Its supposed to hurt after you've been out drinking."
"Then why did we do it?" Andrew asked, his face a mask of innocent scientific inquiry.
Jenny scowled at him, but it was a very good point.
"Oh I don't know," she said after being unable to come up with a compelling reason, "Its just what you're supposed to do after you graduate. Its supposed to be 'fun' whatever that means."
Jenny had problems with the word 'fun'. It seemed that her definition of fun differed from that of the rest of the universe. For most of her classmates at the Academy, fun seemed to involve getting together in a dark room, playing music as loud as possible and drinking yourself sick, with various sex acts to follow where applicable (if any obliging young women were present). As the only woman at the Academy, many of her classmates tried to get her interested in this kind of fun, but she couldn't see in the dark, the music gave her a headache, and the alcohol generally made her sick. Of course, most of her classmates would have been happy to skip directly to the various sex acts but if they suggested as much to her, then they usually found out why she scored top of the class in unarmed combat.
For her classmates, fun seemed to be a destination but for Jenny it was a journey. Most of the time she didn't even realize she was having fun until after the fact. She would think back on some afternoon she'd spent helping Andrew with one of his experiments, or helping Betty try and find that most elusive of objects, the perfect pair of shoes to go with a dress she'd bought, and Jenny would think, that was fun, often in surprise. Jenny usually experienced fun in the past tense, she was usually too nervous to experience it in the present.
Andrew seemed satisfied by this explanation. "One thing bothers me, though, I think that I drank about half a bottle of wine last night. What about you?"
"That sounds about right," she said, "Why?"
"Well, didn't we order three bottles?"
"Ah, that would have been Betty," she said adding to herself: Never go out drinking with Betty again unless you bring along a portable stomach pump.
"She did seem rather intoxicated."
"No, Andrew," said Jenny shortly, "We were 'rather intoxicated'. Betty was sloshed."
Meanwhile, deep inside herself, the fuse had begun to burn.
Andrew busied himself making adjustments to the Resonator.
Finally, he looked up, "I hope she's feeling alright this morning."
Here it comes, thought Jenny and managed to say "She'll be fine."
What she meant, of course, was "If you have any portions of your anatomy which you wish to have painfully removed, then, by all means, continue this conversation, otherwise shut the Hell up."
Andrew wouldn't have been Andrew, though, if he'd ever learned to recognize a subtle hint, and so he said, "Maybe we should have checked in on her?"
"You seem awfully concerned about Betty all of a sudden," said Jenny a little too shrilly, "I mean, considering you could barely remember who she was before last night."
Unaware of the extreme danger he was in, Andrew smiled, "That's funny isn't it. How could I not have noticed somebody as nice as her?"
"Yeah," said Jenny through clenched teeth, "funny."
"I was wondering," said Andrew who was apparently not content to just pull the tiger's tail, he had to splash water on it and make derogatory jokes about its parents too, "Do you think she would mind if I asked her out sometime?"
The words were burning their way out of her mouth before she even noticed, "Look, this is clearly going to be a thing between us, so I just want to say right off that I think it was really unfair how you took advantage of Betty last night."
And that was the thing about Andrew, when you got angry at him, he didn't get angry back, he didn't yell and call you names. He just looked at you with those sad puppy-dog eyes of his and made you feel like a heartless monster.
"I just kissed her," he said, in that kicked puppy voice he always used.
He wasn't going to get out of it, this time, thought Jenny.
"You just kissed her? Is that what you call it? That wasn't a kiss, that was like...mouth sex or something."
"She started it," Andrew said helplessly.
"She was drunk," said Jenny, "You had no right to take advantage of her like that." Adding, to herself, that her righteous anger had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she was positive that in the six years that she'd known Andrew, he'd never harbored so much as an impure thought about her. She was definately not jealous of Betty in the slightest, and more importantly, she was positive she wasn't in denial.
"Oh," said Andrew, "I didn't realize you felt so strongly."
"This isn't about me!" said Jenny, "It doesn't bother me in the slightest who you choose to kiss. Its just that Betty is my oldest friend, I don't want to see her hurt. Why should I care who you kiss?"
In the face of such a grotesque distortion of facts, Jenny at least had the decency to look away.
"I'm sorry," said Andrew calmly, "I don't want anything to come between our friendship, and I would never want to hurt any of your friends, I'll leave Betty alone."
That was another thing that infuriated Jenny about Andrew. He was so damn agreeable. Here she was, with a dozen arguments about why he shouldn't date Betty, and he suddenly blows them all out of the water by agreeing with her.
She sniffed. "We've known each other for six years," she said a bit more quietly, "and its not like you ever even tried to kiss me. What? Were you saving it all up until after we graduated?"
Andrew smiled and even blushed a little bit, Jenny thought it actually looked quite sweet.
"Is that what this is about?" he said.
The tension was drained from the moment, Jenny saw it now, this had all been one of those wacky little mix ups.
"Well, not as such," she said slowly, feeling her own cheeks burning, "I mean, I never even really thought about before, but when I saw you kissing her, I suddenly thought, why couldn't that have been me."
"Oh, I'm sorry Jenny, I didn't realize you felt that way. You're my best friend, but I don't think I could ever date you...."
She cut him off, she understood exactly what he meant. "Yeah," she said laughing, "It would be too weird, right, like kissing your sister."
Andrew joined in the laughter. "Yeah," he said, "and besides, you're way too scary."
Jenny was no longer laughing.
"What. Did. You. Say?" she asked him, and now Andrew wasn't laughing either.
"Well," he said nervously, holding the Resonator in front of him like a shield, "You, um, kind of have the reputation around the school."
"A reputation?" she said in a voice which she did not feel was scary in the slightest, "What kind of reputation?"
"Well, remember that guy during our second year who said you had a nice ass during P.T. and how he had to use a walker for the rest of the semester and his roommate said he used to wake up at night screaming?"
"Yeah," said Jenny, "What about him?"
"Well, that was kind of scary."
"I send one sexist pig to the infirmary, and I'm branded for life."
"Then there was that guy two years ago, who you kicked in the...um...midsection. Then there was the time....."
"Look," said Jenny plaintively, "If you're just going to bring up every person I've nearly crippled, then I think this is going to be a very unfair conversation."
"Uh..." said Andrew.
"Look," she said, advancing on him, "You've seen me almost every day for the last six years, right?"
"Uh...yes?" hazarded Andrew, his grip on the Resonator tightening.
"Exactly!" exclaimed Jenny, a great point won, "And you've seen that I can be an extremely sensitive person when people aren't mouthing off to me."
"Uh...." said Andrew who was clutching the Resonator like a talisman.
Jenny's eyes narrowed.
"That's right isn't it?" she prompted her voice promising untold dangers should this not be the case.
"Oh, yes, yes," replied Andrew quickly, "Of course. The model of sensitivity."
"There were probably plenty of times you wanted to kiss me, you were just too shy, weren't there?"
"Uh...." said Andrew,whose knuckles were growing white.
"I said 'Weren't there?'" shouted Jenny, the shrinking violet.
"Uh, Jenny," said Andrew, "If I drop the Resonator, chances are good that we will both die in a horrible explosion. Do you want that?"
Jenny blinked, as if assessing the situation for the first time. She had made a quite significant incursion into Andrew's personal space, causing him to lean backwards in a remarkably good imitation of a Limbo dancer. She noticed that he had begun to sweat, which she decided to attribute to his hangover, and not to the fact that she was, in any way, frightening him.
She backed off, sniffed again, and took a minute to smooth down her uniform. Andrew seized the opportunity to put his invention down next to the door of Dr Bartholomew's lab.
"So," said Jenny, choosing to pretend that the last five minutes had never happened, "What's this doohickey supposed to do anyway, I've been helping you with it all night and I still have no idea."
Andrew was so grateful to be back at a subject he understood, he was more than willing to join in the group Amnesia.
"Its a machine that generates a beam of low level vibrations. The effect should be negligible on solid objects, but on fluids, it should be quite explosive."
"Like," said Jenny with mock innocence, "A cabinet full of chemicals like the one in old Barty's lab."
"Exactly, Ms Drake, full marks."
"Andrew, my friend," she said, their argument, if not forgotten, at least postponed, "You have a frightening mind. I only hope it never falls into the right hands."
Andrew threw the switch. Jenny felt a dull throbbing somewhere behind her temples.
"It will take a minute," said Andrew grinning, every bit the mad scientist.
Jenny waited in breathless anticipation. Nevertheless it gnawed at her that people at the Academy thought she was scary. She might be a trifle irritable, its true, and maybe she might be a little hot tempered, and, yes, she might not be the most friendly person in the world, and, OK, technically, she did seem to get into more than her fair share of fights, and fine, a few people might have had to undergo emergency surgery, but it just wasn't fair callling her scary.
The sound of exploding glassware interupted her revereies. Andrew gleefully shut off his machine.
Fine, she decided, if they wanted scary, she could do scary. She threw open the doors to the lab and strode in like she owned the place.
Oh dear, Dr Bartholomew," she said, "All your chemicals seem to have exploded."
To be continued...
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Retro Tomorrow: Part 4
The Morning After
There was something wrong with the sun, she had conculded. It was far too bright, it looked like a laser beam shining through the windows in Dr Bartholomew's laboratory.
There was something wrong with the floor, too. The whole building seemed to be swaying, which was odd, since the Academy had been built to withstand nuke attacks. Still, there was no denying the the whole room was swaying.
She conceded that it could possibly be her that was doing the swaying, but dismissed this out-of-hand because of the obvious fact that it was impossible to move without experiencing soul-crushing pain.
She remembered waking up, of this much she was certain. There was that first beautiful, peaceful moment where she lay there not knowing who she was, not knowing where she was, and being only dimly aware of that terrible throbbing behind her eyes.
She had gotten up. Apparently she had gone to bed wearing her clothes, which was quite convenient. Then there was a bit of time that she couldn't really remember and then she was in the elevator heading up to Doctor Bartholomew's lab. Then, another little time lapse, and she was standing in the lab, with the far too bright light shining through the windows and the floor swaying unsteadily beneath her feet.
It was very important that she be here at this time, she knew this to be the case, and, just like the wobbling floor trying to trick her into thinking her legs were unsteady, there were people here who were staring at her, they were going to try and tell her that she shouldn't be here.
One of these people was looking at her, he seemed quite concerned. He was the Brigadier -- see, everything was fine, they couldn't trick her.
"Good lord, Betty," he said with surprise, "You look a sight."
The name Betty rang a bell. They were trying to trick her again, they didn't think she knew her own name. Well, she'd show them!
"Yes sir, I know," she managed to say, wondering how it was possible for your tongue to hurt. Then, defying all known laws of physics, managed to pull her arm up and give some vague manner of salute. That would teach them, she thought.
"Ah," said the Brigadier, looking his secretary up and down, "I imagine the three of you made rather a night of it," he said, obviously hoping to confuse her, but she would have none of it.
"Wanted to be here, sir," she said through lips which felt calcified, "When Jen got here."
"So," said another voice, and now Betty's mind had really started to work at full speed, it only took it a few seconds to recognize the voice as that of Dr. Bartholomew, "It appears that Lieutenant Drake has decided to accept the commission. Well, well, well, I didn't think she had it in her."
From out of nowhere a warm mug had materialized in Betty's hands, and the Brigadier was, not unkindly, motioning her to drink. She recognized the smell. Betty's mind pulled out a file card which read "Coffee." She took a tentative sip, and that was, indeed, what was in the mug.
Suddenly, the world was a much kinder place. The floor stopped wobbling as much as it had been, and the sun seemed much less bright. Coffee, Betty decided, was good. Coffee was her friend. She took another sip of her friend, and things fell into focus.
They had gone out last night to celebrate. There was wine. Now that Betty came to think of it, she'd had rather more of the wine than either Jen or Andy. She had felt entitled, this was first time since they had met that Andy had taken any notice of her. He had even spoken to her, almost like a real human being -- granted Jen had prompted him rather alot, but still, she had felt that deserved some kind of celebration. Then the night got rather blurred, still she was sure, at some point during the night, Jen had decided to take the commission, and Betty had decided that come hell or high water, she would be there for her friend when she formally accepted it.
All of this would explain why she was standing there amid a rather surprised crowd of onlookers in the middle of Dr Bartholomew's lab with the worst hangover in history, and wearing -- with great trepidation she looked downward -- the pink and purple party dress she had been wearing the night before, which had been quite fetching and appropriate in the Officer's club last night, but which now made her look like a rather wilted violet. And, yes, there it was, the huge wine stain right in the middle of her lap, which had seemed so uproariously funny last night. Then, so as to make the moment complete, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a computer screen -- it had taken her almost forty-five minutes to get her makeup just right last night, this morning it made her look inhuman, and, now that she thought about it, her face felt oddly gritty.
She was about to ask the Brigadier if she could borrow his laser pistol to shoot herself, but the throbbing in her head gained a certain strange resonance, as if, somewhere, just out of earshot, a siren was wailing. The Brigadier seemed to notice it too, for he cocked his head quizzically.
Before either of them could say anything, though, they heard the rattling.
Dr Bartholomew kept a shelf filled with vials and beakers of various multicolored liquids which he used in many of his experiments. He kept a painstakingly close watch on them, demanding his lab assistances fill out detailed forms documenting which chemicals they had used, and for what purpose. Whenever any of the containers began running low, he was sure to get them refilled as soon as possible.
Now, all the various vials and beakers had begun to shake. Now they began to rattle. The non-noise was getting louder (well, it gained strength, anyway), everyone had begun to notice it, like a silent vibration inside your head. Finally a vial rolled off the shelf and shattered. Before Dr Bartholomew could say anything, a sealed beaker exploded, and then another and another, in a shower of multicolored liquids.
Betty looked down at her coffee mug and noticed the liquid was splashing around as if very anxious indeed to get out of the cup. Suddenly the cup leapt out of her hand, seemingly of its own accord, and shattered on the floor. An instant later, all the remaining containers exploded in unison. A second after that, the throbbing in their heads ceased.
The door to the lab slid open. In walked Jenny Drake, in the full dress uniform of a captain, the merest hint of a smile played around her lips.
"Oh dear, Dr Bartholomew," said Jen in a tone that could have caused a small frost, a look of complete and utter innocence on her face, "All your chemicals seem to have exploded."
Dr Bartholomew sputtered, incapable of coherent speech, he pointed his arm, accusingly at her.
"Hello, Brigadier," she said, tossing off a perfect salute, "I'm here to accept my commission."
Then, Jen noticed Betty standing there, "Oh God, Betty," she said, the ultra-cool persona momentarily forgotten, "You look awful."
Still, thought Betty, it could have been worse, at least -- no scratch that, because at that moment, Andy walked into the lab, with an indentical air of nonchalance, wearing the dress uniform of a First Lieutenant. Naturally, she was the first person he looked at. Then, something strange happened. Instead of drawing back from her in shock and revulsion, he gave her a rather bashful and totally uncharacteristic smile.
Then she remembered, the reason she had drunk all that wine, was to build up her courage. After dinner, Jen and Andy had walked her back to her apartment -- okay, they had carried her, but she had kept them entertained with funny stories and amusing banter -- now that she thought about it, possibly another mistake on her part. When they got to her door, Jen had left her to hang off of Andy while she, Jen, opened the front door. Betty had seized the moment, and had wrapped her arms around Andy and kissed him full on the lips. Betty was pleased to note that while Andy had seemed surprised at first, he quickly responded with an enthusiasm which met, and quite possibly exceeded her own, to the point that Jen had to pull them apart so that she could get Betty to bed.
Now, Andy stood there in his dress uniform and smiled at her.
Betty's head was throbbing. Her mouth felt like sandpaper. She was drenched with hot coffee, and the smell of the spilled chemicals was making her want to vomit.
This was the best day of her life.
There was something wrong with the sun, she had conculded. It was far too bright, it looked like a laser beam shining through the windows in Dr Bartholomew's laboratory.
There was something wrong with the floor, too. The whole building seemed to be swaying, which was odd, since the Academy had been built to withstand nuke attacks. Still, there was no denying the the whole room was swaying.
She conceded that it could possibly be her that was doing the swaying, but dismissed this out-of-hand because of the obvious fact that it was impossible to move without experiencing soul-crushing pain.
She remembered waking up, of this much she was certain. There was that first beautiful, peaceful moment where she lay there not knowing who she was, not knowing where she was, and being only dimly aware of that terrible throbbing behind her eyes.
She had gotten up. Apparently she had gone to bed wearing her clothes, which was quite convenient. Then there was a bit of time that she couldn't really remember and then she was in the elevator heading up to Doctor Bartholomew's lab. Then, another little time lapse, and she was standing in the lab, with the far too bright light shining through the windows and the floor swaying unsteadily beneath her feet.
It was very important that she be here at this time, she knew this to be the case, and, just like the wobbling floor trying to trick her into thinking her legs were unsteady, there were people here who were staring at her, they were going to try and tell her that she shouldn't be here.
One of these people was looking at her, he seemed quite concerned. He was the Brigadier -- see, everything was fine, they couldn't trick her.
"Good lord, Betty," he said with surprise, "You look a sight."
The name Betty rang a bell. They were trying to trick her again, they didn't think she knew her own name. Well, she'd show them!
"Yes sir, I know," she managed to say, wondering how it was possible for your tongue to hurt. Then, defying all known laws of physics, managed to pull her arm up and give some vague manner of salute. That would teach them, she thought.
"Ah," said the Brigadier, looking his secretary up and down, "I imagine the three of you made rather a night of it," he said, obviously hoping to confuse her, but she would have none of it.
"Wanted to be here, sir," she said through lips which felt calcified, "When Jen got here."
"So," said another voice, and now Betty's mind had really started to work at full speed, it only took it a few seconds to recognize the voice as that of Dr. Bartholomew, "It appears that Lieutenant Drake has decided to accept the commission. Well, well, well, I didn't think she had it in her."
From out of nowhere a warm mug had materialized in Betty's hands, and the Brigadier was, not unkindly, motioning her to drink. She recognized the smell. Betty's mind pulled out a file card which read "Coffee." She took a tentative sip, and that was, indeed, what was in the mug.
Suddenly, the world was a much kinder place. The floor stopped wobbling as much as it had been, and the sun seemed much less bright. Coffee, Betty decided, was good. Coffee was her friend. She took another sip of her friend, and things fell into focus.
They had gone out last night to celebrate. There was wine. Now that Betty came to think of it, she'd had rather more of the wine than either Jen or Andy. She had felt entitled, this was first time since they had met that Andy had taken any notice of her. He had even spoken to her, almost like a real human being -- granted Jen had prompted him rather alot, but still, she had felt that deserved some kind of celebration. Then the night got rather blurred, still she was sure, at some point during the night, Jen had decided to take the commission, and Betty had decided that come hell or high water, she would be there for her friend when she formally accepted it.
All of this would explain why she was standing there amid a rather surprised crowd of onlookers in the middle of Dr Bartholomew's lab with the worst hangover in history, and wearing -- with great trepidation she looked downward -- the pink and purple party dress she had been wearing the night before, which had been quite fetching and appropriate in the Officer's club last night, but which now made her look like a rather wilted violet. And, yes, there it was, the huge wine stain right in the middle of her lap, which had seemed so uproariously funny last night. Then, so as to make the moment complete, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a computer screen -- it had taken her almost forty-five minutes to get her makeup just right last night, this morning it made her look inhuman, and, now that she thought about it, her face felt oddly gritty.
She was about to ask the Brigadier if she could borrow his laser pistol to shoot herself, but the throbbing in her head gained a certain strange resonance, as if, somewhere, just out of earshot, a siren was wailing. The Brigadier seemed to notice it too, for he cocked his head quizzically.
Before either of them could say anything, though, they heard the rattling.
Dr Bartholomew kept a shelf filled with vials and beakers of various multicolored liquids which he used in many of his experiments. He kept a painstakingly close watch on them, demanding his lab assistances fill out detailed forms documenting which chemicals they had used, and for what purpose. Whenever any of the containers began running low, he was sure to get them refilled as soon as possible.
Now, all the various vials and beakers had begun to shake. Now they began to rattle. The non-noise was getting louder (well, it gained strength, anyway), everyone had begun to notice it, like a silent vibration inside your head. Finally a vial rolled off the shelf and shattered. Before Dr Bartholomew could say anything, a sealed beaker exploded, and then another and another, in a shower of multicolored liquids.
Betty looked down at her coffee mug and noticed the liquid was splashing around as if very anxious indeed to get out of the cup. Suddenly the cup leapt out of her hand, seemingly of its own accord, and shattered on the floor. An instant later, all the remaining containers exploded in unison. A second after that, the throbbing in their heads ceased.
The door to the lab slid open. In walked Jenny Drake, in the full dress uniform of a captain, the merest hint of a smile played around her lips.
"Oh dear, Dr Bartholomew," said Jen in a tone that could have caused a small frost, a look of complete and utter innocence on her face, "All your chemicals seem to have exploded."
Dr Bartholomew sputtered, incapable of coherent speech, he pointed his arm, accusingly at her.
"Hello, Brigadier," she said, tossing off a perfect salute, "I'm here to accept my commission."
Then, Jen noticed Betty standing there, "Oh God, Betty," she said, the ultra-cool persona momentarily forgotten, "You look awful."
Still, thought Betty, it could have been worse, at least -- no scratch that, because at that moment, Andy walked into the lab, with an indentical air of nonchalance, wearing the dress uniform of a First Lieutenant. Naturally, she was the first person he looked at. Then, something strange happened. Instead of drawing back from her in shock and revulsion, he gave her a rather bashful and totally uncharacteristic smile.
Then she remembered, the reason she had drunk all that wine, was to build up her courage. After dinner, Jen and Andy had walked her back to her apartment -- okay, they had carried her, but she had kept them entertained with funny stories and amusing banter -- now that she thought about it, possibly another mistake on her part. When they got to her door, Jen had left her to hang off of Andy while she, Jen, opened the front door. Betty had seized the moment, and had wrapped her arms around Andy and kissed him full on the lips. Betty was pleased to note that while Andy had seemed surprised at first, he quickly responded with an enthusiasm which met, and quite possibly exceeded her own, to the point that Jen had to pull them apart so that she could get Betty to bed.
Now, Andy stood there in his dress uniform and smiled at her.
Betty's head was throbbing. Her mouth felt like sandpaper. She was drenched with hot coffee, and the smell of the spilled chemicals was making her want to vomit.
This was the best day of her life.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Retro Tomorrow: Part 3
Into the Darkness
The third sub-basement of the Stellar Patrol Academy had been designed as some kind of a bomb-shelter back in the days of the Mercurian Wars. Technically it was off limits, but somehow Andrew had discovered it during their second year at the Academy. It had been crammed full of forgotten debris, but Andrew had cleared it out.
Jenny couldn't help but laugh at that. In Andrew's lexicon "clear out" was synonymous with "detonate with explosives, let the flames burn away most of the trash, and wash out the ashes with a pressure hose." The thick walls of the sub-basement contained most of the blast, but you could feel the building rattle seven stories up. He was brought before the Brigadier for that one -- they both had been, since Jenny had been the one to help him set the charges.
She could still remember the look of abject horror on the Brigadier's face. He had asked Andrew where he had gotten the explosives, and Andrew had quite blandly replied that he'd made them out of some supplies in the janitorial pantry. After hearing that, the Brigadier had wisely decided not to make too much of the whole incident. Andrew was allowed to use sub-basement as his personal lab, and if, every few months, the Stellar Patrol mysteriously came into possesion of a new kind of weapon or a device which suddenly advanced the field of electronics by five years, then that was a happy coincidence.
That was the kind of person Andrew was. Some people spoke Terran, some spoke Venusian, Andrew spoke engineering -- sometimes to the exclusion of anything else.
They were the oddest couple at the Academy: Jenny, the best pilot on campus, and Andrew the eggiest egg-head that the universe had ever seen. She had a hard time explaining the nature of their dynamic, but next to Betty, Andrew was her closest friend.
Love had never been an issue between them, even if Jenny hadn't known about Betty's feelings for him. He was like a brother to him, and she was like a sister to him -- she supposed -- at the very least she was a vague presense which hovered around him that didn't annoy him very much.
She stood there watching him now, with a mixed feeling of maternal affection and total exasperation. He was standing at his workbench, still wearing his dress uniform from the graduation ceremony yesterday, utterly engrossed in soldering together his latest arcane invention. Apparently finished, he put down his soldering iron, and looked at the mug which was sitting at his left hand. He sniffed it.
"Still warm?" he muttered in surprise.
"I just put it there," said Jenny with a sneer, and Andrew looked up myopically at her, seemingly for the first time.
"Oh, Jenny," he said sipping the cocoa, "Is it dinnertime already?"
"Closer to lunch," she said, "actually, I just came down to talk with you."
He looked relieved that he wouldn't have to leave his invention, and went back to work on it.
"Friends do that, occaisionally," Jenny said tentatively, "Talk to each other, I mean."
Andrew gave no indication that he'd heard her.
"When they want each other's opinions," she tried, "When its, you know, important."
Andrew kept working.
"I went to meet with the Brigadier this morning," she said, because hope springs eternal.
Andrew kept working. Great empires were founded, blossomed for a time, and died. Mountain ranges rose and fell. Andrew kept working.
"And you know," said Jenny, sensing that it really didn't matter what she said, "I was thinking the two of us could strip naked and make mad passionate love on the floor here."
Andrew kept working.
"Damnit Andrew, I'm trying to talk to you here!" she screamed. For a moment her voice reverberated against the stone walls of the lab.
Andrew looked up.
"I'm sorry, Jenny," he said "Did you want to tell me something?"
"He speaks!" she cried, "Its a miracle."
Andrew took off his jacket. "If the floor's too cold for making love on," he said, as he began fiddling with his belt, "We could always go up to my room."
For an instant, Jenny was gripped by a feeling of total horror, then she noticed he was smiling.
"Kidding," he said gently, "People never think I'm listening, but I am."
"Well, gosh, I wonder why they think that?" she said, as her heart started beating again. "Andrew, its normal for both parties to participate in a conversation."
He had the decency to look a bit chagrinned, "I know," he said, "Now that's we're done with the Academy, I've made an action list of goals I wish to accomplish. Becoming more skilled at human discourse is right there at the top."
She could have pointed out that one of the best ways of becoming more skilled at human discourse was to stop referring to it as "becoming more skilled at human discourse," but she didn't have the heart, at least the poor guy was making an effort.
"Let's sit and talk," she said, "You know, the way us humans usually do when we want to discourse."
***
When Andrew had taken over the third sub-basement, Jenny felt that it was only fair and just that she claim a corner of the large room for herself -- after all, she'd almost been expelled along with Andrew. She kept a decrepit bookcase down there, filled with all the books she no longer had space for up in her dorm room, there was a computer terminal, and a couple of chairs. Jenny and Andrew now sat facing each other in these chairs, both holding a mug of cocoa.
"So," said Jenny.
"So," said Andrew, "Is the Brigadier giving you command of the ship with the new Neutrino engine?"
Jenny was dumbfounded.
"Betty told you," was all she could manage to say.
Andrew looked confused, "Uh, no. I planted a bug in Doctor Bartholomew's lab. They've been talking about nothing but the Neutrino engine for the last week now. When he was called to a meeting with you and the Brigadier, I just assumed they'd be giving you the command. You're the best student in the academy."
Betty blushed. Andrew could be quite sweet at times. Though neither of them would admit to it, a friendly rivalry had existed between the two of them ever since they had come to the Academy. It took alot for him to admit she was the better student. She wondered, if the situation had been reversed, if she would have been so gracious in admitting defeat -- of course, it the situation wouldn't be reversed because she was the better student. Inwardly she gave a smug gloating laugh, outwardly she smiled graciously.
Then, suddenly, he realized what her friend had said.
"Wait a second, you planted a bug in old Barty's lab?"
Andrew grinned and went over to a monitor screen. He turned it on and there was the hunched figured of Dr Bartholomew muttering to himself and working on a piece of lab equipment.
Jenny gave a hoot of laughter. "Andrew, this is great! Why didn't you tell me about it sooner?"
Andrew shrugged, "I built the transmitter during finals week, I figured you were a little preoccupied to notice."
At the mention of their final exams, Jenny shuddered. He was right about that, if it didn't have to do with angular momentum or heat transfer rates, Jenny hadn't wanted to hear about it.
"I figured we could use it to see when the Doctor is out of his lab," said Andrew, "and give him an appropriate going away present."
Dr Bartholomew was the Stellar Patrol's most respected scientist, but the bane of all Academy students' existence. He taught at the Academy. He was never the most personable of individuals, but he had developed a particular dislike to Andrew whom he viewed as a threat to his position in the Patrol, and Jenny because -- well, because she was a woman and Dr Bartholomew had some rather antiquated ideas about the position of women in society.
Jenny grinned at the thought of giving the old bastard something to remember her by.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked him.
Once again, Andrew shrugged, "You're the one who's the bad influence, after all."
They both laughed. During their third year at the academy, after they had been written up for the umpteenth time for some rules infraction, one of their instructors had written that "Cadet Sparx is a brilliant young man, but too easily led astray by the bad influence of Cadet Drake." This caused them both much amusement when they read it, because at least half the time, the ideas for the various misadventures which landed them in trouble came from Andrew and Jenny merely went along for the ride. Andrew blamed this on his natural scientific curiosity. Jenny felt that it was actually the real person inside Andrew trying to get out from underneath all that science. Whatever it was, Jenny felt it was her duty as the official "bad influence" to encourage it whenever possible.
"We could take apart all his lab benches."
Andrew shook his head, "No, they did that to him two years ago. How about if we hide all of his text books?"
This time Jenny shook her head, "I think that crosses the line from mischievous to criminal. Knowing Barty, he'd try and have us charged with grand larceny."
Then, something happened to Jenny. It might have been the stress of the day. It might have been the sights and smells of their special hideout, and the thought that this was one of the last times they'd be sitting here like this. Whatever it was, it was like a hammer blow to Jenny's heart, and she felt close to tears.
"You know," she said to Andrew, "I'm going to miss all this."
"You mean when you take your commission?"
Jenny threw up her hands in frustration, "Why does everybody assume that I'm going to take the commission?"
"Aren't you?"
"Somebody's tried to steal that engine twice now. Taking that commission is like signing my own death warrant."
Andrew tried smiling his "helpful smile", it had never worked very well, and today it made her feel like hitting him.
"You never know," he said, "third time lucky."
"For who? Them or me?"
"I'm just trying to be helpful," said Andrew sheepishly.
Jenny looked at her friend. The words started pouring out of her before she even knew what she was saying.
"Look," she said, "I have no right to ask you this, but if I take the commission -- I say, IF I take it -- would you be my First Officer?"
It was worth it just to see the look of surprise on Andrew's face.
"You really want me to be your First Officer?" he asked dumbfounded.
"Of course I do, dummy," she said to him with a smile, "You're my best friend in the Academy, aren't you?"
Best implies that there's more than one, said a tiny, treacherous voice in Jenny's head.
I have lots of friends, replied the rest of Jenny's brain defiantly.
Name two, said the voice.
Well, there's that guy in....well definately that girl in...or was it....
Waiting, said the voice impatiently.
Jenny gave up, I've always thought the quality of your friends was more important than the quantity anyway.
Whatever, said the voice fading into the background.
Wow, thought Jenny, I've just graduated from school, I have almost no friends, I'm about to sign up for a suicide mission, and now I'm losing arguments with my own subconscious. Just think, a hundred years ago I'd have been just some little housewife in an arranged marriage -- what a triumph for women's liberation.
"I guess," said Andrew drawing her back out from inside her own head, "that if you're the 'bad influence' then I must be the 'good influence.'"
"I guess so," said Jenny, even managing to give him half a smile.
"So, as 'good influence,' I guess its my duty to go along with you -- to make sure you don't get into any trouble, you understand."
Andrew is going to keep me out of trouble, she thought, God help us all.
"Its a dangerous assignment," she said. She couldn't bear the thought of her friend signing on without knowing all the risks.
"Ha!" said Andrew snapping his fingers, "I live for danger!"
Seeing him this way, she just had to laugh.
"No Andrew, you live for test tubes."
"Well," he shrugged, "This would be a boring world if a fellow couldn't take on new interests."
"So, you'll be my first officer?" she asked.
"If you take the commission," he reminded her.
"If I take the commission," she added.
"If you take the commission, I'll be your First Officer."
"Are we good?" she asked him.
"We're good," he told her, "Now, that that's out of the way, let's get back to the topic of what we can do to old Barty's lab. I've been doing some experiments with low level microwaves which I think you'll find most interesting...."
Andy walked over to the workbench, and Jenny followed him. If she had to go, she'd go out with a bang.
To be continued....
The third sub-basement of the Stellar Patrol Academy had been designed as some kind of a bomb-shelter back in the days of the Mercurian Wars. Technically it was off limits, but somehow Andrew had discovered it during their second year at the Academy. It had been crammed full of forgotten debris, but Andrew had cleared it out.
Jenny couldn't help but laugh at that. In Andrew's lexicon "clear out" was synonymous with "detonate with explosives, let the flames burn away most of the trash, and wash out the ashes with a pressure hose." The thick walls of the sub-basement contained most of the blast, but you could feel the building rattle seven stories up. He was brought before the Brigadier for that one -- they both had been, since Jenny had been the one to help him set the charges.
She could still remember the look of abject horror on the Brigadier's face. He had asked Andrew where he had gotten the explosives, and Andrew had quite blandly replied that he'd made them out of some supplies in the janitorial pantry. After hearing that, the Brigadier had wisely decided not to make too much of the whole incident. Andrew was allowed to use sub-basement as his personal lab, and if, every few months, the Stellar Patrol mysteriously came into possesion of a new kind of weapon or a device which suddenly advanced the field of electronics by five years, then that was a happy coincidence.
That was the kind of person Andrew was. Some people spoke Terran, some spoke Venusian, Andrew spoke engineering -- sometimes to the exclusion of anything else.
They were the oddest couple at the Academy: Jenny, the best pilot on campus, and Andrew the eggiest egg-head that the universe had ever seen. She had a hard time explaining the nature of their dynamic, but next to Betty, Andrew was her closest friend.
Love had never been an issue between them, even if Jenny hadn't known about Betty's feelings for him. He was like a brother to him, and she was like a sister to him -- she supposed -- at the very least she was a vague presense which hovered around him that didn't annoy him very much.
She stood there watching him now, with a mixed feeling of maternal affection and total exasperation. He was standing at his workbench, still wearing his dress uniform from the graduation ceremony yesterday, utterly engrossed in soldering together his latest arcane invention. Apparently finished, he put down his soldering iron, and looked at the mug which was sitting at his left hand. He sniffed it.
"Still warm?" he muttered in surprise.
"I just put it there," said Jenny with a sneer, and Andrew looked up myopically at her, seemingly for the first time.
"Oh, Jenny," he said sipping the cocoa, "Is it dinnertime already?"
"Closer to lunch," she said, "actually, I just came down to talk with you."
He looked relieved that he wouldn't have to leave his invention, and went back to work on it.
"Friends do that, occaisionally," Jenny said tentatively, "Talk to each other, I mean."
Andrew gave no indication that he'd heard her.
"When they want each other's opinions," she tried, "When its, you know, important."
Andrew kept working.
"I went to meet with the Brigadier this morning," she said, because hope springs eternal.
Andrew kept working. Great empires were founded, blossomed for a time, and died. Mountain ranges rose and fell. Andrew kept working.
"And you know," said Jenny, sensing that it really didn't matter what she said, "I was thinking the two of us could strip naked and make mad passionate love on the floor here."
Andrew kept working.
"Damnit Andrew, I'm trying to talk to you here!" she screamed. For a moment her voice reverberated against the stone walls of the lab.
Andrew looked up.
"I'm sorry, Jenny," he said "Did you want to tell me something?"
"He speaks!" she cried, "Its a miracle."
Andrew took off his jacket. "If the floor's too cold for making love on," he said, as he began fiddling with his belt, "We could always go up to my room."
For an instant, Jenny was gripped by a feeling of total horror, then she noticed he was smiling.
"Kidding," he said gently, "People never think I'm listening, but I am."
"Well, gosh, I wonder why they think that?" she said, as her heart started beating again. "Andrew, its normal for both parties to participate in a conversation."
He had the decency to look a bit chagrinned, "I know," he said, "Now that's we're done with the Academy, I've made an action list of goals I wish to accomplish. Becoming more skilled at human discourse is right there at the top."
She could have pointed out that one of the best ways of becoming more skilled at human discourse was to stop referring to it as "becoming more skilled at human discourse," but she didn't have the heart, at least the poor guy was making an effort.
"Let's sit and talk," she said, "You know, the way us humans usually do when we want to discourse."
***
When Andrew had taken over the third sub-basement, Jenny felt that it was only fair and just that she claim a corner of the large room for herself -- after all, she'd almost been expelled along with Andrew. She kept a decrepit bookcase down there, filled with all the books she no longer had space for up in her dorm room, there was a computer terminal, and a couple of chairs. Jenny and Andrew now sat facing each other in these chairs, both holding a mug of cocoa.
"So," said Jenny.
"So," said Andrew, "Is the Brigadier giving you command of the ship with the new Neutrino engine?"
Jenny was dumbfounded.
"Betty told you," was all she could manage to say.
Andrew looked confused, "Uh, no. I planted a bug in Doctor Bartholomew's lab. They've been talking about nothing but the Neutrino engine for the last week now. When he was called to a meeting with you and the Brigadier, I just assumed they'd be giving you the command. You're the best student in the academy."
Betty blushed. Andrew could be quite sweet at times. Though neither of them would admit to it, a friendly rivalry had existed between the two of them ever since they had come to the Academy. It took alot for him to admit she was the better student. She wondered, if the situation had been reversed, if she would have been so gracious in admitting defeat -- of course, it the situation wouldn't be reversed because she was the better student. Inwardly she gave a smug gloating laugh, outwardly she smiled graciously.
Then, suddenly, he realized what her friend had said.
"Wait a second, you planted a bug in old Barty's lab?"
Andrew grinned and went over to a monitor screen. He turned it on and there was the hunched figured of Dr Bartholomew muttering to himself and working on a piece of lab equipment.
Jenny gave a hoot of laughter. "Andrew, this is great! Why didn't you tell me about it sooner?"
Andrew shrugged, "I built the transmitter during finals week, I figured you were a little preoccupied to notice."
At the mention of their final exams, Jenny shuddered. He was right about that, if it didn't have to do with angular momentum or heat transfer rates, Jenny hadn't wanted to hear about it.
"I figured we could use it to see when the Doctor is out of his lab," said Andrew, "and give him an appropriate going away present."
Dr Bartholomew was the Stellar Patrol's most respected scientist, but the bane of all Academy students' existence. He taught at the Academy. He was never the most personable of individuals, but he had developed a particular dislike to Andrew whom he viewed as a threat to his position in the Patrol, and Jenny because -- well, because she was a woman and Dr Bartholomew had some rather antiquated ideas about the position of women in society.
Jenny grinned at the thought of giving the old bastard something to remember her by.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked him.
Once again, Andrew shrugged, "You're the one who's the bad influence, after all."
They both laughed. During their third year at the academy, after they had been written up for the umpteenth time for some rules infraction, one of their instructors had written that "Cadet Sparx is a brilliant young man, but too easily led astray by the bad influence of Cadet Drake." This caused them both much amusement when they read it, because at least half the time, the ideas for the various misadventures which landed them in trouble came from Andrew and Jenny merely went along for the ride. Andrew blamed this on his natural scientific curiosity. Jenny felt that it was actually the real person inside Andrew trying to get out from underneath all that science. Whatever it was, Jenny felt it was her duty as the official "bad influence" to encourage it whenever possible.
"We could take apart all his lab benches."
Andrew shook his head, "No, they did that to him two years ago. How about if we hide all of his text books?"
This time Jenny shook her head, "I think that crosses the line from mischievous to criminal. Knowing Barty, he'd try and have us charged with grand larceny."
Then, something happened to Jenny. It might have been the stress of the day. It might have been the sights and smells of their special hideout, and the thought that this was one of the last times they'd be sitting here like this. Whatever it was, it was like a hammer blow to Jenny's heart, and she felt close to tears.
"You know," she said to Andrew, "I'm going to miss all this."
"You mean when you take your commission?"
Jenny threw up her hands in frustration, "Why does everybody assume that I'm going to take the commission?"
"Aren't you?"
"Somebody's tried to steal that engine twice now. Taking that commission is like signing my own death warrant."
Andrew tried smiling his "helpful smile", it had never worked very well, and today it made her feel like hitting him.
"You never know," he said, "third time lucky."
"For who? Them or me?"
"I'm just trying to be helpful," said Andrew sheepishly.
Jenny looked at her friend. The words started pouring out of her before she even knew what she was saying.
"Look," she said, "I have no right to ask you this, but if I take the commission -- I say, IF I take it -- would you be my First Officer?"
It was worth it just to see the look of surprise on Andrew's face.
"You really want me to be your First Officer?" he asked dumbfounded.
"Of course I do, dummy," she said to him with a smile, "You're my best friend in the Academy, aren't you?"
Best implies that there's more than one, said a tiny, treacherous voice in Jenny's head.
I have lots of friends, replied the rest of Jenny's brain defiantly.
Name two, said the voice.
Well, there's that guy in....well definately that girl in...or was it....
Waiting, said the voice impatiently.
Jenny gave up, I've always thought the quality of your friends was more important than the quantity anyway.
Whatever, said the voice fading into the background.
Wow, thought Jenny, I've just graduated from school, I have almost no friends, I'm about to sign up for a suicide mission, and now I'm losing arguments with my own subconscious. Just think, a hundred years ago I'd have been just some little housewife in an arranged marriage -- what a triumph for women's liberation.
"I guess," said Andrew drawing her back out from inside her own head, "that if you're the 'bad influence' then I must be the 'good influence.'"
"I guess so," said Jenny, even managing to give him half a smile.
"So, as 'good influence,' I guess its my duty to go along with you -- to make sure you don't get into any trouble, you understand."
Andrew is going to keep me out of trouble, she thought, God help us all.
"Its a dangerous assignment," she said. She couldn't bear the thought of her friend signing on without knowing all the risks.
"Ha!" said Andrew snapping his fingers, "I live for danger!"
Seeing him this way, she just had to laugh.
"No Andrew, you live for test tubes."
"Well," he shrugged, "This would be a boring world if a fellow couldn't take on new interests."
"So, you'll be my first officer?" she asked.
"If you take the commission," he reminded her.
"If I take the commission," she added.
"If you take the commission, I'll be your First Officer."
"Are we good?" she asked him.
"We're good," he told her, "Now, that that's out of the way, let's get back to the topic of what we can do to old Barty's lab. I've been doing some experiments with low level microwaves which I think you'll find most interesting...."
Andy walked over to the workbench, and Jenny followed him. If she had to go, she'd go out with a bang.
To be continued....
Friday, September 7, 2007
Retro Tomorrow: Part 2
Friends and Lovers
Jenny walked out the door. As the Brigadier had predicted, Betty was waiting for her right outside the door.
Before she could say anything, Betty gave her an enormous hug, "Congratulations!" she yelled.
Well, thought Jenny as she tried to extricate herself from her friend's grasp, her heart is in the right place, at least.
"That's such great news!" gushed Betty, "I'm so happy for you!"
Jenny tried to smile but only made it halfway.
"Yes," she said, "Most people wait years for a chance to die for their Planet, I get a chance right out of the academy." She hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but the news had thrown her for a loop.
Jenny walked out the door. As the Brigadier had predicted, Betty was waiting for her right outside the door.
Before she could say anything, Betty gave her an enormous hug, "Congratulations!" she yelled.
Well, thought Jenny as she tried to extricate herself from her friend's grasp, her heart is in the right place, at least.
"That's such great news!" gushed Betty, "I'm so happy for you!"
Jenny tried to smile but only made it halfway.
"Yes," she said, "Most people wait years for a chance to die for their Planet, I get a chance right out of the academy." She hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but the news had thrown her for a loop.
"Oh come on," said Betty, "He wouldn't have suggested you if he thought it was really dangerous."
Jenny laughed. She loved her godfather fiercely, but had no illusions about him.
"Oh come on Jen, he loves you, you're like a daughter to him."
"Yes," said Jenny, "he's also got a soft-spot for animals, but I've never seen him turn down a steak."
"That's really one hell of a thing to say, Jenny," she said. It was only the second time in her life she'd heard Betty say a four-letter word.
It wasn't what you might call a prestige position. Before Betty, the Brigadier usually went through about two secretaries per year. He was NOT an easy man to work for. Still, Betty persevered. She was constantly complaining about him: how sloppy he was, how vague, how disorganized, how demanding. There had been plenty of times she could have sworn Betty was close to quitting. She had never realized how fond she really was of the old man.
"No," said Betty with that irritating finality of hers, "He wouldn't ever do anything to put you in danger, I know him."
"So," said Betty, "Does this mean you're not going to take the commission?"
"You have to Jen. You know how sexist most of the people in the patrol are. It'll be years before you get your own ship otherwise. And when you do, it'll probably be some fluff assignment like piloting a Tour Ship around the Academy."
"I could live with a fluff assignment," she said quietly.
"People keep telling me that," Jenny replied, "I wish I had your confidence."
Betty was the only person in the Academy who called Jenny "Jen", and she was the only person who would ever think of calling Andrew Sparx "Andy." She was a person who was deeply uncomfortable with full names.
Betty grinned that sickening grin she always got when she talked about Andrew, " Does he, you know, talk about me?"
Betty turned bright red and gasped. For a moment, Jenny thought she was going to have some kind of seizure.
"No, not really. The only time I can get him out of his lab is for meals, and then he only talks about his damn research. Take it from me, new developments in fusion engines are not as interesting as they might seem."
That was why it was so mystifying to Jenny that she fell for Andrew from the first moment she saw him, despite his almost total indifference in her. For the last six years, she had been pursuing him like a lovesick puppy. It was actually quite nauseating. He was reasonably good looking, and was, deep down, a nice enough guy despite a lack of any kind of social skills, but falling in love with him was like falling in love with a physics text book.
Jenny considered this. "Best implies that there are more than one of us. I'm his friend, I'll grant you that much. I make sure he eat regularly and showers once a week whether he needs it or not. Really, I'm not much more than his chamber-maid when you think about it."
"Have you tried dressing up like a test tube?"
"Betty, this isn't healthy. Andrew's a really nice guy, but lets face it, if he can't examine it under a microscope, then he's not interested."
Jenny grabbed her ears convulsively, "I so do not want to hear this! Betty this is like that guy you fell for in High School, the quarter-back."
"Betty, he robbed a bank."
Jenny began to feel that nagging headache she got whenever she became emmeshed in her friend's love life.
Betty's eyes suddenly lit up and Jenny had that familiar sinking feeling.
"You have to take Andy aboard your crew on the Glory. He could be your second in command!"
"Oh, you mean on that commission I haven't decided if I'm going to take."
"Please Jen! It will be so good for his career!"
"Career? Does Andrew have a career? I thought he was just going to work in that lab of his until the school declared the thing a bio-hazard and kicked him out."
"He just doesn't know what he can accomplish, with the right help from us, of course."
Jenny put her arms on her friends shoulders.
"Betty, you are my best friend in the world, and I love you like a sister, but you are going seriously 'round the bend on this one."
"Please, Jenny," Betty only used Jenny's full name when she was desperate to get in her good graces.
Jenny sighed. It was useless trying to argue with Betty when she had her heart set on something. It was like trying to argue with an earthquake.
"Fine," she said, "If -- and I mean if -- I accept the commission, and if they let me pick my own crew, and if I can get Andrew to concentrate on something other than his experiments for two seconds, then I will ask him to be my second-in-command."
To Jenny's great surprise, Betty hugged her.
"Oh, Jen thank you! You won't be disappointed, Andy will make a wonderful First Officer. I've got to go now, but maybe the three of us can have dinner tonight to celebrate."
The three of them, thought Jenny, being me, her and Andrew. Jenny watched her friend bustle off down the hall. She hoped it was pretty in whatever alternate universe that Betty lived in.
Jenny walked off sullenly down the hall. Well, now she had her First Officer, but she still didn't know if she was going to take the commission.
To be continued...
Betty's eyes suddenly lit up and Jenny had that familiar sinking feeling.
"You have to take Andy aboard your crew on the Glory. He could be your second in command!"
"Oh, you mean on that commission I haven't decided if I'm going to take."
"Please Jen! It will be so good for his career!"
"Career? Does Andrew have a career? I thought he was just going to work in that lab of his until the school declared the thing a bio-hazard and kicked him out."
"He just doesn't know what he can accomplish, with the right help from us, of course."
Jenny put her arms on her friends shoulders.
"Betty, you are my best friend in the world, and I love you like a sister, but you are going seriously 'round the bend on this one."
"Please, Jenny," Betty only used Jenny's full name when she was desperate to get in her good graces.
Jenny sighed. It was useless trying to argue with Betty when she had her heart set on something. It was like trying to argue with an earthquake.
"Fine," she said, "If -- and I mean if -- I accept the commission, and if they let me pick my own crew, and if I can get Andrew to concentrate on something other than his experiments for two seconds, then I will ask him to be my second-in-command."
To Jenny's great surprise, Betty hugged her.
"Oh, Jen thank you! You won't be disappointed, Andy will make a wonderful First Officer. I've got to go now, but maybe the three of us can have dinner tonight to celebrate."
The three of them, thought Jenny, being me, her and Andrew. Jenny watched her friend bustle off down the hall. She hoped it was pretty in whatever alternate universe that Betty lived in.
Jenny walked off sullenly down the hall. Well, now she had her First Officer, but she still didn't know if she was going to take the commission.
To be continued...
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Retro Tomorrow: Part 1
Part 1: The Beginning of Tomorrow
Jenny Drake's stomach gave a lurch as she stepped out of the pneumatic Transport Tube.
"Six years at the academy," she thought to herself, "and I'm still not used to these things. Fine pilot I'm going to make."
As always, when she felt nervous or out of her depth, she pulled out the pocketwatch which her father had given her when she had been accepted at the academy. It was a massive, silver-plated thing, that had belonged to her great-grandfather. She popped it open, more out of habit than anything else, and read the inscription on the inside cover. It said:
This was something of a Drake family motto. She liked thinking of her great-grandfather using this very same watch. Though he had died over fifty years ago, it cheered her up, knowing they had this common bond.
She happened to glance down at the clock face, and recalled that one of a pocket-watch's more prosaic uses is keeping time. The watch said 10:06, and it still kept perfect time. She was late for her meeting.
Had anyone passed Jenny in the hall, they would certainly have been surprised at the stream of expletives issuing from the mouth of this seemingly demure young Stellar Officer. Once she reached the office of Brigadier Cornwall, she smoothed down her skirt, did her best to tidy her hair, took a deep breath, and knocked on the Brigadier's door.
The door opened at once, and Jenny was greeted by the kindly face of Brigadier Cornwall. Jenny stood at attention and gave him a smart salute. The Brigadier took a puff on his pipe before languidly returning the salute.
"Ah, Drake," he said, in that same imperturbable tone he always used, "You're a bit late, but never mind, come in, come in."
"Late, isn't that just like a woman," sneered the Doctor.
The doctor looked about to say something, but Jenny cut him off.
"Course I told him that was out of the question," the Brigadier went on, "So we settled on you instead."
The warm glow withered and died a quick and painful death.
"The best student in the academy."
Jenny looked up suddenly, "The...the best?"
The Brigadier grunted in the affirmative. Students at the Stellar Academy were never told their grades, unless they were failing, it was felt to place an unfair degree of competition among the students.
Betty pulled a sheet of paper from her notes, "Its true, Jenny, you graduated at the top of your class. Some of the best marks in Academy history -- well done."
Betty smiled, "He was a close second. You did better at flight school."
"The ship containing the Neutrino drive is called the Glory. Currently, Dr. Bartholomew's staff is examining it on Lunar One. You will assemble a crew, travel with the Doctor to Lunar One where you will take possesion of the ship. You will then fly it to the government testing facility on Mars, running a battery of tests en route."
Slowly the words began filtering up through Jenny's brain: fly, ship, crew.
"I'm sorry, sir, I thought that I was going to be, at most, co-piloting the ship. Do you mean I'm going to be Captain?"
"That's exactly what I mean," said the Brigadier with a smile.
"Oh, its going to be one of those conversations, is it?" said the Brigadier with resignation, "Fine, then I'll tell her myself. A ship outfitted with this Neutrino engine was due to be flown to Mars over a month ago. However, when it was on the launching pad, the pilot fell ill. The medics thought it was food poisoning and the launch was postponed. Very well, it could have been food poisoning, only, that night, while the ship was in hangar, somebody tried to break in. Our chaps scared them off, thankfully."
"Really, sir," said Agent Johnson, looking more than a little pale, "All of this is classified information, you shouldn't even have access to this."
Jenny Drake's stomach gave a lurch as she stepped out of the pneumatic Transport Tube.
"Six years at the academy," she thought to herself, "and I'm still not used to these things. Fine pilot I'm going to make."
As always, when she felt nervous or out of her depth, she pulled out the pocketwatch which her father had given her when she had been accepted at the academy. It was a massive, silver-plated thing, that had belonged to her great-grandfather. She popped it open, more out of habit than anything else, and read the inscription on the inside cover. It said:
The Future Is Forever
This was something of a Drake family motto. She liked thinking of her great-grandfather using this very same watch. Though he had died over fifty years ago, it cheered her up, knowing they had this common bond.
She happened to glance down at the clock face, and recalled that one of a pocket-watch's more prosaic uses is keeping time. The watch said 10:06, and it still kept perfect time. She was late for her meeting.
She raced down the chrome and plasteel hallway as fast as her heels could carry her. Her first official meeting since being inducted into the Stellar Patrol, and she was going to be late.
Had anyone passed Jenny in the hall, they would certainly have been surprised at the stream of expletives issuing from the mouth of this seemingly demure young Stellar Officer. Once she reached the office of Brigadier Cornwall, she smoothed down her skirt, did her best to tidy her hair, took a deep breath, and knocked on the Brigadier's door.
The door opened at once, and Jenny was greeted by the kindly face of Brigadier Cornwall. Jenny stood at attention and gave him a smart salute. The Brigadier took a puff on his pipe before languidly returning the salute.
"Ah, Drake," he said, in that same imperturbable tone he always used, "You're a bit late, but never mind, come in, come in."
He gallantly waved her into his office. As always, the room smelled of pipe smoke and peppermints. There was quite a crowd in there already. In addition to her and the Brigadier, there was Betty, the Brigadier's long suffering secretary, some civilian gentleman whom Jenny didn't know, and -- inwardly, Jenny cringed -- Dr. Bartholomew.
"Late, isn't that just like a woman," sneered the Doctor.
Betty glared daggers at the man, "I think the Lieutenant, can be excused a little tardiness, its a long walk up here from the Academy barracks."
The doctor looked about to say something, but Jenny cut him off.
"Not at all," she said, in the most clipped, military-sounding tones she could muster, "No excuse for it, I can only beg your pardon, Brigadier."
The Brigadier gave an enormous, hooting laugh, "Don't be silly, girl, Jeremy just got here himself, didn't you Jeremy."
As always, Dr. Bartholomew looked slighly ill when faced with someone calling him by his Christian name. "I was in the middle of some very important lab work when I got..." he began, rather too stridently, but the Brigadier cut him off.
"Yes, yes, old chap, quite so," he said dismissively, and then turned back to Jenny who was still standing at attention. "As for you, young lady, stand at ease. Remember, I've known you since you were in diapers, no need to be so formal, you'll strain something."
Jenny stood at ease. She looked across the room where Betty was suddenly taken by an odd coughing fit. When she recovered, she became very interested in tidying up a pile of papers sitting in front of her.
"Excuse me, Brigadier," said the civilian, a trifle impatiently, "If we could get on with things, I do need to catch a transport back to Washington."
"Certainly, dear boy, certainly," said the Brigadier. "Lieutenant Jennifer Drake, this is Agent John Jameson, of the IIA."
Betty winced.
"That's James Johnson, sir" said the Agent, a trifle irritably, the Brigadier had that effect on people.
"Yes, yes, quite so. He and his people have a new rocket thingamiebob that wants testing. Its got a new type of engine in it, Neutronic-something-or-other."
"A Neutrino Engine," said the agent, stretched almost to the breaking point.
"That's the chap! Very experimental, very hush-hush. Agent Jameson," here, agent Johnson twitched slightly, "Said he had to have my very best man to put her through her paces."
Here, Jenny felt a warm glow of pride.
"Course I told him that was out of the question," the Brigadier went on, "So we settled on you instead."
The warm glow withered and died a quick and painful death.
"The best student in the academy."
Jenny looked up suddenly, "The...the best?"
The Brigadier grunted in the affirmative. Students at the Stellar Academy were never told their grades, unless they were failing, it was felt to place an unfair degree of competition among the students.
Betty pulled a sheet of paper from her notes, "Its true, Jenny, you graduated at the top of your class. Some of the best marks in Academy history -- well done."
"But," said Jenny, stunned, "I would have thought Andrew...."
Betty smiled, "He was a close second. You did better at flight school."
All military decorum momentarily temporarily forgotten, Jenny beamed.
"Which is why we called you up here," said the Brigadier, bringing her back to earth, "You're a good pilot, a damn good pilot, but you've got no experience. That's why I want you to take this Newtonno thingie...."
"Neutrino," corrected Dr. Bartholomew.
"That's it, and put it through its paces. Handles like an absolute dream, I hear."
"If I could interrupt," interrupted Agent Johnson, "Perhaps I could give a more cogent synopsis of your mission."
"No doubt you could, dear boy," said the Brigadier, all smiles, "Cogitate away."
"The ship containing the Neutrino drive is called the Glory. Currently, Dr. Bartholomew's staff is examining it on Lunar One. You will assemble a crew, travel with the Doctor to Lunar One where you will take possesion of the ship. You will then fly it to the government testing facility on Mars, running a battery of tests en route."
Slowly the words began filtering up through Jenny's brain: fly, ship, crew.
"I'm sorry, sir, I thought that I was going to be, at most, co-piloting the ship. Do you mean I'm going to be Captain?"
"That's exactly what I mean," said the Brigadier with a smile.
Agent Johnson handing her a small cream-colored envelope, "The Brigadier speaks very highly of you, Lietuenant Drake. Here are your commission papers, all you have to do is sign them and the command's yours."
"I'd like it known," said Dr. Bartholomew, "That I have protested this decision most strenuously."
"I understand, sir," said Jenny mildly.
The doctor looked surprised, "You do?"
"Yes, sir," continued Jenny, "You're a sexist pig, sir."
"Well, you can't argue with that," murmured the Brigadier, "That's a nasty cough you've got, Betty, maybe you should report to sick bay."
"No sir," said Betty, shuffling her papers furiously, "I'm fine, just a little tickle in my throat."
"Now, this is all very jolly," said the Brigadier, "but I think its time you told our Lieutenant the rest of the story."
Agent Johnson's face went blank, "I don't know what you mean, sir."
"We're all friends here, Jameson, no need to be coy."
"Its Johnson, sir, and I really have no idea to what you are referring."
The Brigadier looked outraged. "You don't know to what I'm referring," he repeated back to the man in an nasal imitation of his voice, "You're a member of the Interplanetary Intelligence Agency for heaven's sake."
Agent Johnson's face was pointedly blank.
"Oh, its going to be one of those conversations, is it?" said the Brigadier with resignation, "Fine, then I'll tell her myself. A ship outfitted with this Neutrino engine was due to be flown to Mars over a month ago. However, when it was on the launching pad, the pilot fell ill. The medics thought it was food poisoning and the launch was postponed. Very well, it could have been food poisoning, only, that night, while the ship was in hangar, somebody tried to break in. Our chaps scared them off, thankfully."
"Really, sir," said Agent Johnson, looking more than a little pale, "All of this is classified information, you shouldn't even have access to this."
"Boy," said the Brigadier, "Do you think I reached this exalted rank by virtue of my charm and good looks?"
The agent shot daggers at him with his eyes.
"Good," said the Brigadier, "Now kindly be quiet and let me continue. Remember, I gave you the chance to tell her yourself.
"Two weeks after the first launch attempt," he went on, "They tried launching it again. This time they even got it off the lauching pad. It was halfway to the moon, when an unidentified ship tried to intercept them. The unknowns disabled our boys' booster rockets, and ruptured the hull, with every indication they intended to let our boys asphyxiate and walk off with the Neutrino engine. Fortunately, our Captain managed to trigger the self-destruct mechanism on the ship. Unfortunately, when it blew, it took out the unknowns as well, so we still don't know who's behind the plot."
"The enigne in the first ship," said Doctor Bartholomew, "was only the second such engine we have managed to build. The one powering the Glory is the original prototype Neutrino engine. It represents ten years hard work on the part of my staff. If this one is destroyed, it will be at least five years before we can build another. So you can see why I am hesitant to give the mission to an untested woman."
"Yes, thank you Jeremy, as valuable a contribution as always," said the Brigadier. "So you see, my dear, that there seem to be malicious forces at work who will not want you to reach Mars with the engine."
"Is it that valuable," asked Jenny.
"It could easily reduce the time spent in space travel by 75%," said Doctor Bartholomew.
"You understand, Lieutenant Drake," said Agent Johnson, "That the IIA will do everything in its power to minimize the risk."
"Yes, Agent Johnson, I understand perfectly," said Jenny, the simple cream envelope was feeling quite heavy in her hands, "The IIA will do everything in its power, but just to be on the safe side, you might as well send an expendable pilot, like someone, oh, I don't know," here she made a great show of thinking, "someone right out of the academy, hence my commission. "
Betty nearly jumped out of her seat, "Jenny, you deserve that promotion, everyone knows that."
"Thank you, Ms Welles," said the Brigadier taking care to emphasize Betty's position as a civilian -- even Dr Bartholomew had a military commission -- "You're opinions on military postings are most valuable, but not really on topic."
Betty turned pink and sat down. That was as severe a reprimand as the Brigadier usually gave out.
"As it happens, though," he went on, "Your opinions mirror my own. Still, that's not the point, is it? You were about to hand over an assignment to one of my pilots, Agent Johnson, without adequately informing them of the risk involved. In my book, that's not playing the game."
"Sir," said Johnson, "As much as I respect your command, I really must protest your sharing of classified information with individuals without the appropriate security clearance. I feel obligated to tell you, I will have to report this to Commissioner Abel."
The Brigadier's eyes narrowed, "Where do you think I found out about this in the fist place, young man?"
There was an awkward pause, while the Brigadier let Johnson stew. Finally he said, "Very good, very good. That's all. Lieutenant Johnson, if you choose to accept the commission please report to Doctor Bartholomew at ten-hundred hours tomorrow. You have 24 hours to make your decision."
"Yes, sir, thank you sir," said Jenny.
Brigadier waved away these words of thanks. "This meeting is concluded. Everyone is dismissed."
People began to file out of the office, as Jenny was about to leave, she heard the Brigadier call out to her.
"Lieutenant Drake, a brief word if you don't mind."
Obediently, she waited until the room was empty and then went to sit across from the Brigadier.
"So," he began, in a tone much more gentle than he had been using in the meeting, "the first woman to graduate from the Space Academy."
Jenny nodded.
"The first woman to graduate from the Space Academy," she repeated.
"Have I told you how proud I am?"
"Thank you," she said, feeling herself blush, "Uncle George."
He gave her a look of mock severity, "That's insubordination, you know. You're an officer now, I'm to be addressed as Brigadier Cornwall, at all times."
Jenny smiled, "I'm sorry, Uncle George."
The Brigadier shared her smile, "That's better."
They sat for a moment, sharing the silence. Jenny had never felt a great pressure to talk around the Brigadier. She had known him all her life. When he wasn't posing as the stereotypical British Bloody Fool, he was basically a quiet man. He wasn't really her uncle, he was her godfather. He'd been friends with her father throughout his whole life. Jenny would visit him in the summer at his rambling country house in England. She remembered playing chess or fishing with him. They could spend an entire afternoon together and not say more than two words to each other, and yet these were some of her fondest memories of him.
Finally, he said "Don't be fooled by that idiot from the IIA, it is a dangerous assignment."
She nodded.
"They wanted somebody from the academy," he said, "No, not wanted, insisted. I think its very much as you say, they want someone expendable. I chose you, because at least you're someone I trust."
This surprised her. He knew he loved her like a daughter. He'd practically adopted her after her father died. It was still a shock to hear that he trusted her. She felt a huge swell of pride at the admission.
"Thank you, sir."
"Still, no one would blame you if you turned it down."
"Its not a bad deal for me, though," said Jenny with a smile, "Out of the academy one day, and my first commision, a state of the art ship to pilot, and a free trip to Mars."
The Brigadier shook his head and laughed, "I felt it was the least I could do, seeing as I forgot your birthday."
"You remembered my birthday," said Jenny, scowling, "You sent me a china doll."
"I thought you collected those things."
"I did," said Jenny, "When I was seven."
"Yes, well," mumbled the Brigadier, "If it gives you any pleasure, I'll forget to send you a Christmas gift."
"Thanks uncle," said Jenny grinning nastily, "I'd appreciate that."
"Fine thing, give them a diploma and suddenly they lose all respect."
He glanced at his watch.
"Actually, my dear, you'd better leave. I have another meeting soon and I'd better get ready. Besides, Ms Welles is no doubt breathlessly waiting outside my office to talk to you -- clever devil that she is."
Jenny got up, "Thank you uncle, I mean that."
"Yes, yes," he waved his hand dismissively, "Remember, you've got a whole day to make your decision. I know you'll make a good one."
Jenny turned and went out to face her future.
To be continued...
Betty nearly jumped out of her seat, "Jenny, you deserve that promotion, everyone knows that."
"Thank you, Ms Welles," said the Brigadier taking care to emphasize Betty's position as a civilian -- even Dr Bartholomew had a military commission -- "You're opinions on military postings are most valuable, but not really on topic."
Betty turned pink and sat down. That was as severe a reprimand as the Brigadier usually gave out.
"As it happens, though," he went on, "Your opinions mirror my own. Still, that's not the point, is it? You were about to hand over an assignment to one of my pilots, Agent Johnson, without adequately informing them of the risk involved. In my book, that's not playing the game."
"Sir," said Johnson, "As much as I respect your command, I really must protest your sharing of classified information with individuals without the appropriate security clearance. I feel obligated to tell you, I will have to report this to Commissioner Abel."
The Brigadier's eyes narrowed, "Where do you think I found out about this in the fist place, young man?"
There was an awkward pause, while the Brigadier let Johnson stew. Finally he said, "Very good, very good. That's all. Lieutenant Johnson, if you choose to accept the commission please report to Doctor Bartholomew at ten-hundred hours tomorrow. You have 24 hours to make your decision."
"Yes, sir, thank you sir," said Jenny.
Brigadier waved away these words of thanks. "This meeting is concluded. Everyone is dismissed."
People began to file out of the office, as Jenny was about to leave, she heard the Brigadier call out to her.
"Lieutenant Drake, a brief word if you don't mind."
Obediently, she waited until the room was empty and then went to sit across from the Brigadier.
"So," he began, in a tone much more gentle than he had been using in the meeting, "the first woman to graduate from the Space Academy."
Jenny nodded.
"The first woman to graduate from the Space Academy," she repeated.
"Have I told you how proud I am?"
"Thank you," she said, feeling herself blush, "Uncle George."
He gave her a look of mock severity, "That's insubordination, you know. You're an officer now, I'm to be addressed as Brigadier Cornwall, at all times."
Jenny smiled, "I'm sorry, Uncle George."
The Brigadier shared her smile, "That's better."
They sat for a moment, sharing the silence. Jenny had never felt a great pressure to talk around the Brigadier. She had known him all her life. When he wasn't posing as the stereotypical British Bloody Fool, he was basically a quiet man. He wasn't really her uncle, he was her godfather. He'd been friends with her father throughout his whole life. Jenny would visit him in the summer at his rambling country house in England. She remembered playing chess or fishing with him. They could spend an entire afternoon together and not say more than two words to each other, and yet these were some of her fondest memories of him.
Finally, he said "Don't be fooled by that idiot from the IIA, it is a dangerous assignment."
She nodded.
"They wanted somebody from the academy," he said, "No, not wanted, insisted. I think its very much as you say, they want someone expendable. I chose you, because at least you're someone I trust."
This surprised her. He knew he loved her like a daughter. He'd practically adopted her after her father died. It was still a shock to hear that he trusted her. She felt a huge swell of pride at the admission.
"Thank you, sir."
"Still, no one would blame you if you turned it down."
"Its not a bad deal for me, though," said Jenny with a smile, "Out of the academy one day, and my first commision, a state of the art ship to pilot, and a free trip to Mars."
The Brigadier shook his head and laughed, "I felt it was the least I could do, seeing as I forgot your birthday."
"You remembered my birthday," said Jenny, scowling, "You sent me a china doll."
"I thought you collected those things."
"I did," said Jenny, "When I was seven."
"Yes, well," mumbled the Brigadier, "If it gives you any pleasure, I'll forget to send you a Christmas gift."
"Thanks uncle," said Jenny grinning nastily, "I'd appreciate that."
"Fine thing, give them a diploma and suddenly they lose all respect."
He glanced at his watch.
"Actually, my dear, you'd better leave. I have another meeting soon and I'd better get ready. Besides, Ms Welles is no doubt breathlessly waiting outside my office to talk to you -- clever devil that she is."
Jenny got up, "Thank you uncle, I mean that."
"Yes, yes," he waved his hand dismissively, "Remember, you've got a whole day to make your decision. I know you'll make a good one."
Jenny turned and went out to face her future.
To be continued...
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