Poor Man's Fight (24 page)

“And the cleaning crews?” she asked. “Those are non-rated uniforms I’m seeing, aren’t they? Navy crew and marines?”

“Oh. Them,” Sutton smiled again. “Those are loaners, too. We got ‘em from Fort Stalwart. Everyone in those unmarked vac suits is still in recruit training. They’ll be here doing practical hands-on training soon. It’s part of the new program for enlisteds. Right now, though, it’s all about scraping, scrubbing and painting. Not so different from the life of a non-rate to begin with, to be honest. Much of this recruit company will probably be assigned to this ship after they graduate.”

“
What’s the new program like?” piped up a voice from behind them. Sutton and Andrea looked over their shoulders at Walter Lowney. She kept almost forgetting him.

“Fort Stalwart is training them longer and harder than ever now
,” explained Sutton, “at significantly less cost to the taxpayers than one would expect, I should add,” he offered, tossing Andrea a knowing look.

Andrea pursed her lips. She suspected he was trying to be flirty before, but now that he was trying to offer up political support on the sly, she was sure of it.

“Could we talk to some of them?” Lowney asked. Noticing the wary glance shared between Sutton and Andrea, he added, “You said before that a lot of them would be assigned here when they completed their training. It might be a nice angle.”

“I can’t think of any reason to object,” Andrea shrugged.

“You understand that these guys are still in the middle of basic training, right?” Sutton warned. “They might not be all that talkative. Hell, at this stage a lot of them are still trying to rediscover which way is up.”

“I’ll keep it simple
.”

Sutton considered it, then finally nodded. “How about these guys?” he suggested, gesturing through an open hatch to his left. He strode inside with hardly a pause. Andrea and Lowney followed.

“Attention in the—attention!” blurted out one recruit. Everyone in the compartment came to a ramrod straight stance, dropping their cleaning gear to look straight ahead with their arms glued to their sides. All five recruits looked young, fit, trim and openly nervous.

“You were about to say ‘attention in the squad bay,’ weren’t you…Malone?” asked Sutton.

“Sir, yes, sir!” answered the red-faced recruit.

“Only you should have said something different, right?” he asked. His
gentle demeanor didn’t seem to make the recruit feel any better.

“’Attention on deck,’ sir?”

“Correct,” Sutton nodded. His eyes swept the compartment. “Who’s in charge here?”

“Sir?” blinked another. “We’re all recruits, sir.”

“No squad leader?”

“That’d be me, sir,” said a third. “Recruit Sinclair, sir.”

“Ah. Good.” The commander turned to Lowney. “Fire away.”

Lowney stepped forward, clearly not expecting this degree of formality. “Yeah, but… can they relax at all?” he asked. “I feel like they’re just going to shout out lines from a training manual.”

“The rote answers sound much better when they’re shouted,” Sutton smiled. “Especially by five guys at once.”

Andrea glanced from one recruit to the
next. Despite their stance, they were plainly terrified. “Commander,” she spoke up, “I think he might have a point. We wouldn’t want to impede the media.”

“No, of course not,” Sutton nodded. “At ease, recruits.
Mr. Lowney here is a civilian journalist. He’d like to ask you a few questions. Just speak your minds.”

The group of recruits relaxed their posture, but not by much. The tension in the room remained still palpable.

“What’s your name again?” Lowney asked. “Sinclair?”

“Yes, sir,”
confirmed the nominal squad leader.

“Where are you from?”

“Raphael, sir. New Venice.”

“What are you guys doing in here?”

“Cleaning detail, sir,” Sinclair shrugged.

“And what is this room?”

“It’s, uh…auxiliary port fire control, sir.”

“You think you’d like to be assigned here when you finish recruit training?”

“Yes, sir! Of course, sir!”

Andrea noticed a proud grin on the XO’s face at Sinclair’s response. Lowney asked much the same questions of the other recruits. True to his word, he kept things light. Andrea had almost begun to tune things out before he got to the last of them. It was the red-faced young man who’d called the group to attention when Sutton walked in.

“Why did you join?” Lowney asked.

“I’m sorry, sir?” the recruit blinked.

“Why’d you join?”

The recruit blinked again. He didn’t answer right away. Sutton tilted his head curiously. “It’s a simple question, recruit,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve answered it before.”

“It’s not a simple answer, sir.”

“Try me,” Lowney said before Sutton or Andrea could stop him.

“I had an awful night before the Test, and by the time it was over all my future plans evaporated,” Malone answered. “The navy had a lot of good options, but militaries get misused. I don’t want to die in a war started over some rich man’s lies. My family was against it. I was pretty torn on the idea.”

Andrea’s eyes went wide. Suddenly she
wanted nothing but rote answers from a manual. She glanced at Sutton, hoping to think of a way to get the XO to cut this off gracefully, but the XO wasn’t looking her way. To make things worse, Malone kept talking.

“Then
I heard the lady next to you say people like the pirates that hit the
Aphrodite
don’t stop because somebody asks nicely. So I joined up. Sir.”

Lowney was as stunned as everyone else. “That’s…quite an answer, Malone
.”

“I think we should probably be going now,” Sutton said.

“Recruit Malone,” Lowney asked, ignoring the XO, “have you had any second thoughts?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m with good people, sir. Because I’ve learned how to do things I could never do before. I wanted to go to a good university,” he said, his lips cracking with just the hint of a grin, “but instead I got to go on a spaceship and meet one of the president’s chief deputies. Seems like I did pretty well.” He risked a glance at Andrea. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.
I’m a big fan of your writing.”

“Thank you,” Andrea blinked.

Sutton picked his jaw up from the floor. He couldn’t call this inappropriate, couldn’t articulate what was so wrong… but it clearly was. “We’ll be going now. Carry on, recruits.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” the five young men in the compartment answered in unison as Sutton ushered his companions out. Unfortunately, the first turn he took put him and his guests right past an open ventilation shaft on the other side of the compartment.

“Tanner, how’d you know who she was?” they heard a recruit hiss.

“What’re you, blind? I never missed a press conference before I enlisted!”

Sutton coughed loudly as he passed. The recruits didn’t get the hint. Before the visitors were out of earshot, they clearly heard one of the recruits warn, “You’re gonna do burpees until you
die
for that one, Tanner.”

“What? He said to speak our minds.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t fucking mean it!”

“
His mistake.”

Lowney chuckled, flashing through a couple of notes on his holocom. “Not sure if I’ll be able to use that boy’s story,” he shrugged. “
Falls out of pace with my other quotes.”

“That’s too bad,” Andrea thought aloud.

“Hm? I would think that’s a bit more controversial than the president would like.”

“The president appreciates honest dissent,” Andrea said tactfully, “and all the
more so when it’s from someone stepping up to serve his people despite sincere misgivings.” She paused. “The president would call that patriotism.”

Lowney smiled, perhaps a bit cynically, as he continued his notes. Seeing that their company was a bit distracted, Andrea said to Sutton, “I thought that poor guy was going to have a heart attack when you talked to him.”

“Hm?” Sutton murmured. “Oh. I thought so, too, at first. But now I don’t think I was the one who had him flustered at all.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” Sutton shook his head. “I may be a big, important officer, but I’m pretty sure the only person in that compartment that mattered to him was you.”

***

“Fuller:
Los Angeles
, engineering department. Garrison:
Joan of Arc
, engineering. Gomez:
Los Angeles
, deck department. Other Gomez…” Janeka stopped herself. For once, she allowed a slight grin. “Someone in the billeting office has a sense of humor. Other Gomez:
Los Angeles
, deck department.”

Both Gomezes groaned. The other recruits got a good laugh. They sat together, collected on the floor of Squad Bay Oscar, hearing the first duty stations of the company’s navy recruits. The marine recruits were there, too, though they had at least another
four weeks of combat training after graduation before they would learn where they’d be assigned. Until graduation, though, they were all simply recruits, regardless of service branch.

They had trained like that from the beginning, and maintained that cohesion until the end. They had the same PT requirements, the same customs and courtesies, and the same lengthy training with small arms that ate up much of their final two months of training. Only during the company’s three-week “apprenticeship” phase on board
Los Angeles
did the marines and navy recruits separate. Oscar’s navy recruits learned basic helm, navigation and procedures for common ships’ tasks. Marine recruits trained in guard duties, weapons maintenance, and received a surprising amount of sit-down classroom work on etiquette and regulations over the use of force.

Yet they all learned damage control. They all learned to fight fires and plug holes in the hull. They all conducted mock boardin
g actions, over and over, of
Los Angeles
and of other ships linked up to the cruiser. Their apprenticeship phase was the most grueling portion of Oscar Company’s training, but in hindsight, it had also been the most enjoyable.

“Huang:
Resolute
, deck department. That’s a good ship. Congratulations,” Janeka said. Her voice was as low on cheer as always, but Oscar Company had learned to detect nuance. Many were sure that Janeka would show signs of humanity after graduation. Others bet significant money against it.

Tanner sat
toward the middle of the company, all but holding his breath. The hopes and dreams of individual recruits were ultimately the least influential factor in where they would be billeted, but everyone at least got to put in their wish lists. Tanner never got over that first ride on
St. George
. He wasn’t particular about which Vigilant-class ship he might be assigned to, but he knew what names he wanted to hear.

“Jun: Fort Stalwart, clerical department, Raphael,” Janeka read, making a sour face. “Jun, did you ask for this? Do you actually like it here?”

“No, sergeant!”

“Are you lying to me?
Were you afraid you’d miss me?”

“Uh…”

“Are you not sure what answer will displease me more?” she pressed. Jun blinked. Janeka grunted. “Better work on that.” She read more names. Recruits patted Jun on the back as if he’d been sentenced to prison.

“Madison:
Belfast
, deck department. Malone:
St. Jude
, deck department. McAlister:
Rio de Janeiro
, deck department…”

Tanner hardly listened to the rest. He restrain
ed himself from cheering.
St. Jude
was based out of Augustine, the planet on the furthest orbit from Archangel. Augustine was a cold, inhospitable rock, yet one with a pair of universities, several corporate research labs and no small number of tourist traps. Its spaceport had entered a boom period five years ago as Augustine came around in its long orbit to face Hashemite space, and would remain a place of constant activity for several years to come.

By the time Tanner got hold of his feelings and scrambling thoughts, Janeka
finished the list. He glanced around, caught Alicia’s eye and shared a grin. She knew he had been hoping for a corvette assignment. Alicia had her fingers crossed for a spot on
Los Angeles
, but it would be some time before those orders came through.

“People, we’re gonna get back to our field day of the squad bay,”
said Everett, bringing the moment to a close. “We don’t want to spend the last days of training on a cleaning binge, so let’s get it done and make sure we don’t make a mess later.” He glanced at a note on his holocom screen. “Baljashanpreet, Matuskey, Espinoza, Huang, Jun, Malone. My office.”