The Methuselan Circuit (12 page)

Alexander couldn’t help but notice Fjallheim gave him a long dark glance before he left.

“What was that all about?” Alexander said, more to himself than anyone else.

“What do you mean,” Lisa asked, astonished at his naivety. “You go and blatantly ask about something that probably doesn’t exist, and if it does it’s so impossibly secret that even the Commandant wouldn’t joke about it! Zoot Suits are supposedly what Spooks use to get around; they don’t even need ships within a system, just the Zoot Suit. They’ve got another nickname, but it’s not so nice—it’s ‘the Angel of Death.’”

“Lisa’s right Alexander,” James added with a very serious expression on his lean face. “Leave it alone. We’re cadets. We’re not even supposed to know the rumors of stuff like that—unless your dad really was a Spook.”

“He wasn’t, so stop saying he was,” Alexander growled under his breath, throwing James a furious glare.

“Alright Alexander, I won’t say it anymore,” the boy shrugged. “For God’s sake I wasn’t trying to dis your dad; I mean, if he was that’d be cool—really cool. I won’t say it again if it bothers you though.”

“Really Alexander, you shouldn’t take it so seriously,” Treya told him. “People may be afraid of the Terran Rangers, if they exist that is, but they think they’re around to do good not bad. They keep the peace in the frontier where there’s no other law or justice. Why does this freak you out?”

“I just can’t picture my dad blasting people away like the stories say,” he said in a low, hardly to be heard voice. “I can’t see him as that bloodthirsty. He’s my dad, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it Alexander,” Lisa told him. “We won’t say anything more about it; will we?” She looked scathingly at the other two.

“No we won’t,” they promised.

Classes were both exciting and sobering. The first day of any class was always exciting for Alexander. This was even more so. Military History was his favorite, nor was he disappointed. The instructor was Commander Gauge, a tall aristocratic looking woman who nonetheless had a flair for the dramatic events of history.

“You have already been part of the privileged few to see with your own eyes the
USS Iowa
, the flagship of Alexander Galaxus, the first and thus far the only Overlord of the known galaxy.” She paced the room, gazing at every student with her sharp gray eyes as if estimating how attentive they were, or worse, how well they would do in her class. It seemed to Alexander that she was already handing out the final grades before there was even a test. The thought caused him to sit bolt upright. She smiled slightly. “Some of you may simply think the
Iowa
was a neat old wreck, but I assure you, you will think much differently of her by the time I’m through with you.”

Alexander didn’t know whether he worshipped Commander Gauge or feared her; perhaps it was both.

Every Instructor referenced their homework, already loaded in their compads. Privately, Alexander wondered how they were going to do their homework and sleep—then he remembered detention, and groaned. Forget about everyone else; for him it would be patently impossible.

His last class was Weapons Familiarization. The Instructor was Lieutenant Sheur, a Chem. He was tall and lean like most Chem and Golkos, but his eyes lacked any pupils so it was exceedingly difficult to tell what he was thinking. Alexander never realized just how much you could tell from a person’s eyes. He strode up and down the classroom in silence for a full five minutes before he said a single word. At length he sighed, “There will be no levity in this classroom—is that perfectly understood? First of all, we Chem have no sense of humor. Second, weapons do not care whether they are used against enemies or friends; they do not care if they are used accidently or with deadly purpose. There will be no—how do you humans say it—no, Tom foolery. There will be no inattention. If I have to write your parents a letter telling them how you had your bowels blown out through your ear, I will be seriously displeased.”

He stopped and looked them over, his luminous blue eyes turning reddish-purple. Alexander figured that meant he was mad. That was a color to avoid, but he’d have to ask Treya about it.

Lieutenant Sheur began to stalk about the room again. “I will instruct you on the care, maintenance and employment of all Fleet and Legion weapon systems. To ease your misgivings, I must inform you that I am outstanding at my job. If you listen and follow my instructions you will all be competent in weapons employment from the proper use of the combat knife to the use of a long range express rifle. In addition, you will receive a basic familiarization with every type of weapon we employ and many weapon systems of alien,” he smiled at the word, showing his sharp platinum colored canines, “cultures. Before you graduate some of you may even have the opportunity to fire a broadside from a battleship.”

There was a chorus of excited gasps, including Alexander. That seemed to please Lieutenant Sheur. His eyes turned a slightly lighter shade of blue. Alexander took note of that.

“Very well, we have fifteen Terran minutes left in class. Before dismissal I want every one of you to have fired ten shots from a blaster. Follow me to the firing range!” The firing range was conveniently located next to the classroom. There was a long line of firing platforms and each one had the name of a cadet above the platform. Alexander found his and stepped into it. A small gray blaster with a bulbous end waited for him. He didn’t touch it.

“Cadet Johansen, Scott, Barret . . .” the Lieutenant ran through a list of a dozen names. “I did not give you permission to pick up your weapon. You will stand down from your firing platforms and watch. Each of you take two demerits for failure to follow instructions!”

Alexander breathed a sigh of relief. At least this time
he
hadn’t been the one to mess up.

“Don’t be too sure!” Alexander jumped. Somehow Lieutenant Sheur was right behind him. The Chem looked down at him as if reading his mind, and said, “Don’t be so sure that you won’t be next.” His gaze stayed on Alexander for a moment. “I do not put up with any lack of discipline in this class or on this range. Stay attentive and you will almost assuredly learn something that will save your life one day!”

Lieutenant Sheur left Alexander’s firing platform and began to instruct the cadets, those that would fire that day, the basics of shooting a blaster. Alexander took special care to do everything the Lieutenant said and nothing more. When it came time to fire, he was surprised at the lack of recoil. He didn’t know why he expected it, but maybe it was because firing the blaster was nothing like it appeared in the movies. There was no kick, but he did feel a flash of heat on his hands and there was an acrid odor of ozone. He hit the target at ten meters all ten times, not always in the center, but still he hit the target. Lieutenant Sheur stopped by his platform and studied the target. Nodding his head, he said, “Not bad Cadet Wolfe, not bad at all. Have you ever fired a blaster before?”

“No sir.”

“Really,” he replied, seemingly surprised. “You mean your father never taught you to shoot?”

“I’ve fired ballistic weapons, sir,” Alexander answered, wondering whether the question was generic or meant that the Lieutenant had heard of his father as well. “We hunt on the island. I’m familiar with both a rifle and a pistol.”

“It has transferred to energy weapons, which is all to the good,” Lieutenant Sheur smiled. “You have the eye of your father.” Alexander gasped at yet another instructor who seemed to know of his father. The Chem turned to walk on, but stopped. Quickly, in barely a whisper, he said, “Be alert tonight on the bridge. There are many ghosts wandering around there, and some spirits that are not wholesome at all!”

Alexander had no idea what Lieutenant Sheur might mean. What spirits could there be on the bridge of the Academy? He put his blaster back in its cradle and left with the rest of his flight.

At the cadet’s mess they ate as a flight. The mess hall encompassed all of Deck 14, the uppermost deck of the Dormitory Pod. It was arranged like a huge wheel with the food dispensers in the center around the hub through which the Tube ran. Radiating outward like spokes on a wagon wheel were the twenty-six flight tables. The other members of Kilo flight were there as well, all seven years worth. The more senior the cadets the closer they sat to the food dispensers. That meant that Alexander was about as far away as he could get and he and his tablemates had to carry their trays a full hundred meters to their table.

There was something of a reward for eating in the mess hall, however. The panels between the spidery support structures were made of transparent aluminum. It gave the cadets a wondrous view of Terra with Luna rising over the blue Pacific Ocean. The best view was from the outermost seats, which was just as it should be. The more senior cadets lived with this wonderful vista for years and they didn’t appreciate it nearly as much anymore.

The food was good. Actually, it was excellent. Alexander had pot roast, mashed potatoes, corn, cornbread and chocolate cake. It was a welcome change from venison. At least they weren’t going to starve him to death. Between mouthfuls they all reflected on their day. Alexander sighed, “It’s hard to believe I was slogging through the mud to feed the horses this morning and now I’m here.” Looking up over his head he could see Puget Sound. He could even pick out the green irregularly shaped form of Vashon Island. He imagined the old farmhouse they lived in, and though he couldn’t see it, he could see where it should be. There, so close he could reach out and touch it with his finger, that’s where his parents and sister were sitting down to dinner right now. They’d be saying grace. That reminded him that he’d forgotten. Quickly he crossed himself and said a silent prayer.

“You religious,” asked James, wolfing down a double cheeseburger as if he’d wanted one for a year but couldn’t afford it—which was probably true.

Alexander never considered the question before. He was Catholic. He’d always had faith. He never even considered why, but he felt pressured to respond. His dad had always said,
when you don’t know the answer just relax and say the first thing that comes into your head, that’s usually as right as you’ll get.
He shrugged back, and said, “I don’t feel so alone, especially in a place like this.”

James took another bite out of his burger and nodded. “Makes sense,” he mumbled through stuffed cheeks and pushed in some French fries for good measure.

“Are you nervous about tonight?” Lisa asked.

He forced himself to say “No, I’m more nervous about getting my homework done and getting through tomorrow on a half a night’s sleep.”

“We’ll help with the homework,” Treya said, and she looked between the four of them. “We’ve all got the same homework. We should all do it together.”

They all nodded and finished up. Everyone had the same idea, so they all returned to the dorm to do their homework. A few senior cadets showed up to welcome them to the Kilo flight. They said a few things that no one remembered and then advised them to break into groups to do their homework. Each group took a few questions from each class and when everyone was done they shared and/or debated the answers. That advice was really worth while, but the most important thing the senior cadets did was to ensure everyone got in a group. Alexander felt he was lucky. He was really lucky to already be with some friends, which was unusual for him. Left to his own devices, he’d probably have spent the day by himself, not daring to join anyone. The senior cadets made sure that didn’t happen. They took the loners or the pairs and put them in groups that needed extra cadets. “We’re all family here; that’s the only way you can get through. No one gets through alone. It’s like the credo for the Service: “Never leave a soldier behind.” It all starts here, so get to know each other and get used to it.”

So, despite the hectic, trying, strange and exciting day in the end they all settled back into a family, which was what they lost in the first place. Every cadet was ready to turn in earlier than they were used to, everyone that is except Alexander. His detention tour began at 10:00 pm; that is 2200 hours military time. That was already later than he was used to staying up, so he set his alarm for half an hour prior and turned in with everyone else, lying down in his third tier bunk still dressed in his uniform. He thought to sleep for a while, but in reality he couldn’t. The trepidation of detention, the excitement of the day, the questions about his father, all of it played over and over again in his mind. He couldn’t sleep. The clock ticked past twenty-one hundred and he decided to give up and open his eyes, but that’s when Alexander nodded off. His alarm rang a few minutes later.