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....

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.

"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.

"And how long have you worked for 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."

Betty looked liked she'd just been slapped.

"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.

She and Betty had grown up together, they were practically sisters. When they were children, Betty had always seemed a little frightened whenever "Uncle George" came for a visit. When they had graduated from school, Jenny applied to the Academy and, miracle of miracles, was accepted. She was elated, but the two friends were heart-broken that they'd now be living on seperate planets. That was when Jenny's father pulled a few strings and bingo, Betty had a job as the Brigadier's secretary.

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.

"Betty," said Jenny, "My Unlce George is the nicest man in the world, but he's my commanding officer. To him, I'm just like any other officer under his command. If he sees a job that needs doing, and thinks I'm the right fit, he's going to get me to do it, no matter what the risk."

"No," said Betty with that irritating finality of hers, "He wouldn't ever do anything to put you in danger, I know him."

Betty was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a Pollyanna. She actually one of the most cynical people Jenny had ever met. She was fiercely loyal, though, and if she ever decided you were worth befriending, she would be your friend no matter what, whether your particularly deserved it or not. She wasn't a reformer, she didn't try to change people to be the selfless noble souls she knew they could be. Instead, it seemed that she would stubbornly maintain her worldview until the rest of the world gave up in exasperation.

"So," said Betty, "Does this mean you're not going to take the commission?"

"I really don't know, Betty."

"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."

Suddenly, and against her will, her mind conjured an image of that ill-fated pilot, attacked by hostiles and faced with the choice of dying in the vacuum, or blowing himself up. She imagined him engaging the self-destruct mechanism present on all Patrol vessels. She wondered if she could ever have that kind of force of will.

"I could live with a fluff assignment," she said quietly.

Betty patted her friend kindly on the shoulder, "I know you'll make the right decision," she said.

"People keep telling me that," Jenny replied, "I wish I had your confidence."

"Listen," said Betty in an attempt to change the subject, "How's Andy doing? I haven't seen him since graduation."

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.

"Andrew?" Jenny shrugged, "He's fine. I suppose. I doubt he even noticed graduation."

Betty grinned that sickening grin she always got when she talked about Andrew, " Does he, you know, talk about me?"

"Yes, constantly," said Jenny, "In fact, he told me that he's planning to take you on a surprise trip to the Moon, next week."

Betty turned bright red and gasped. For a moment, Jenny thought she was going to have some kind of seizure.

"Really?"

"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."

Betty's almost constant interest in Andrew was one of the things Jenny could never understand about her friend. Betty was the kind of girl most men would kill for. She was tall, shapely, blonde and almost painfully good-looking. She could cause air-car accidents by simply wearing a short skirt. She could have any man in the Stellar Patrol. She was the type of woman that men would go to war over, if she'd let them.

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.

"Come on, Jenny, you're his best friend."

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."

"How can I get him to notice me?"

"Have you tried dressing up like a test tube?"

"I'm serious, Jen!"

"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."

Betty gave a strange little smile, "I wouldn't mind if he...."

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."

"Jordan was a very sensitive guy, no one ever gave him a chance."

"Betty, he robbed a bank."

Betty thrust out her jaw defiantly, "This would be a better place if people weren't so quick to condemn others just because of what they do for a livning."

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...

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:

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...