Making of a Starship Captain Ch. 08

[Note: This Science Fiction story is an intense character study with occasional sex scenes.]

Spatial navigation turned out to be surprisingly easy.

They were starting to work on the simulators, which pleased Taylor immensely. They were basically holographic computer screens and controls which simulated ship functions, but for Taylor they were a big step up from running around the perimeter or abstract classroom work.

Interstellar navigation turned out to be surprisingly simple. Plot a point, set a course, and that was it. Oh, there were a few twists. Inside a solar system, one had to be careful of planetary and solar gravity wells. On the rare occasion one was inside an asteroid belt, one had to navigate at a slower velocity. But really, it wasn't that complicated.

Flying in an atmosphere, and landing, was something else.

********

They were in a shuttle, taking turns at the controls. Right now Mohammida was piloting.

"Good, Mohammida, good," said their flight instructor, Lieutenant Healy. Suddenly, the shuttle started to shimmy. They could feel the vibrations in the floor. "Smooth it out, Mohammida, straighten it out!"

Mohammida strained at the controls. She was coming in for a landing over Auburn field, but there was heavy turbulence. Perhaps this hadn't been the best day to do shuttle testing. The shuttle started to bounce up and down. Suddenly, it started to spin about. Mohammida felt herself starting to lose control.

"Inertial dampeners!" Lieutenant Healy cried.

"I'm trying!" said Mohammida, but even as she spoke the shuttle flew over Auburn field and shot like a bullet towards downtown Perth. Suddenly there was a large skyscraper ahead of them.

"For the greater glory of Laquinta!" Mohammida cried, as she plowed into a tall building. The shuttle exploded, obliterating them all in an instant.

********

The screen in front of them went blank. Lieutenant Healy looked down at Mohammida. "Mohammida, did you just plow into a building and yell 'For the Greater Glory of Laquinta'?"

"I might have," Mohammida confessed, looking incredibly guilty. "We were dead anyway. I had lost control."

"That's because you didn't keep an eye on your inertial dampeners. This isn't a suicide mission, Mohammida, you are expected to learn how to land as well as take off."

"Remind me not to fly again with Mohammida any time soon," Cherry whispered in his ear.

Taylor restrained a laugh.

But the incident brought out an underlying tension. The Survey Service had fought three wars against the followers of Laquinta; although Mohammida claimed she followed a moderate, peaceful version of the Book of Blood, this incident only raised further doubts about her.

People discussed it openly over dinner that night. "She may say that she follows a reformed interpretation, but how do we know if we ship out with her that one night she won't go crazy and slit our throats?" Bill Kenilworth asked.

"Mohammida would never do that," said Allyson Harshbarger. "She's not that kind of person."

"So was Jordan Abu Kamal," said Kenilworth. "Remember that incident on the Yorktown, a few years ago? Jordan was a follower of Laquinta too, a reformed one, so he said. He had four spotless years in the service. Then one day he snapped and cut the throat of every watch officer on the bridge. If he hadn't been disarmed by a passing crewman, he could have killed the entire crew during the night watch. No, when I watch a pilot plow gleefully into a building and yell out for Laquinta, it's time for me to fly with a different spaceline."

They all looked over at Mohammida. She was chatting happily with Paula Kenobi at another table.

Mike wondered if they were right. Other former followers of Laquinta had snapped. Could it happen to Mohammida?

********

They continued training on shuttle simulators for several days. After some practice, Taylor found that he handled the controls well enough to get a smile from Lieutenant Healy's face. Cherry Oteri, Sophie Astor, and Andrea Farber also proved to be capable pilots. Ernie Maslarov, however, crashed three times, and Allyson Harshbarger had a tendency to flip over upon landing.

And then, when they were ready, they moved on to real shuttles. The first time Taylor found himself flying a real vessel he felt a thrill of excitement. He took off and landed well enough. When Mohammida's turn came, everyone felt a surge of worry but tried not to show it. Their instructor, Lieutenant Rawlings, was sitting in the copilot's seat. He would take the controls if Mohammida tried to turn this into a suicide mission. So they hoped. But Taylor prepared himself to jump up and take the controls if Mohammida slit Rawlings' throat and set the shuttle into a suicide plunge. Just in case.

It turned out that there was no need for it. Mohammida did well enough, taking off, flying with apparent ease. When she turned to start her landing at the Pensacola field, more than one hand gripped an arm rest, but there was no need to worry. Mohammida landed at the proper landing strip without crashing into a single building. Not even a small one. And she didn't even slit Lieutenant's Rawlings throat in the process. Everyone was quite pleased with the results.

********

Taylor was distinctly surprised by what was taught in his class on diplomacy and first contact. Having been raised in a rigorous World Government curriculum for all of his life, he had learned that unexpected planets always had fragile environments that must be respected. If there were flowers on an alien planet, none could be sampled without horrifying effects on the environment. Even if a planet were a lifeless rock like the Moon, mining for minerals could create catastrophic environmental effects.

As for contact with alien species, Taylor learned in high school that people from Earth were always greedy oppressors and other life forms and even human cultures from other planets were always superior to those of Earth's. Never mind that human beings on Ramada had launched not one but three wars of aggression against the Earth.

It was with some surprise, then when Colonel Calle lectured them with a decidedly different approach. "You land on a planet full of trees and birds. What do you do?"

Cadets spoke up one at a time.

"You apologize for invading a pristine planet."

"You make sure not to harm any of the local species."

"You leave as soon as possible and submit a full report recommending the planet be kept in the same condition for all eternity-"

"No, no, no," said Calle. "You assess the vegetation, animal, and minerals to see if there's anything we can harness. The planet might have incredibly useful mineral resources. Its plant or animal life could produce wonderful medicines that could save lives, or technological advances we can only dream of."

A cadet raised her hand.

"Yes, Harshbarger?"

"But if we do that, wouldn't we be exploiting a lush alien environment?" she asked.

"Very good, Harshbarger! That's exactly what we would be doing," said Calle. He saw the confused expressions on the Cadets' faces. "You all have to unlearn eighteen years of propaganda you've been fed. Empty planets benefit no one. Human beings survive from harnessing the environment around them. You've been taught to place absolute value on empty environments, and zero value on the needs of humans. That kind of thinking has to change."

In short order, Calle had reversed some of their conditioning. "Farber! You come to a planet full of Selenium. What do you do?"

"Recommend strip mining begin at once!" said Andrea, with a brilliant smile on her face.

"Good!" said Calle. "Kenilworth! This planet also has 5000 sub varieties of tiny space beetles. If you do strip mining, one of the 5000 sub varieties might become extinct. What do you do?"

Bill Kenilworth looked confused. "Uh, maybe you do a years long study-"

"Strip mining!" Ernie Maslarov cried out, with a grin.

"Right!" said Calle. "And what if a ship full of activists from Greenwar arrive on the planet to try and stop you, what do you do?"

There was a moment's pause. Then Sophie Astor raised her hand. "Yes."

"Arrest them for entering a closed area, and have them put in medical quarantine for two months, just in case."

"Correct," said Calle, smiling.

********

Colonel Calle also taught them how to deal with first contact situations. "If you meet a culture that is technologically backwards, don't try to introduce advanced technology under the guise of improving their lifestyle. All you'll do is make it easier for them to kill each other."

Andrea Farber raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"Should we hide the fact that we come from a spaceship, from another planet?"

"Use your best judgment," said Calle. "It depends on the situation. But whatever you do, don't say or do anything which would radically upset their belief system. And whatever you do, don't assume the role of their local gods!"

The class laughed. Taylor looked thoughtful.

********

Colonel Calle also taught them how to deal with other cultures. "Say you're invited down to Ramada to parley with the locals. They want to meet in the local manske, but insist your first officer wear a burka because she's a female. What do you do?"

Allyson Harshbarger raised a hand. "You do it. You're on a foreign territory, you have to respect local customs-"

"Wrong answer, Harshbarger. You're not an immigrant trying to assimilate. You're a representative of the United Survey Service, an equal. Other ideas?"

Bill Kenilworth raised a hand.

"Yes?"

"Leave your female first officer behind."

"No, that's just another form of kowtowing," said Calle. "The correct answer is that you change the meeting place. If they claim the manske is holy ground and women must be wearing a burka, then meet them in a place where women don't have to be covered up. Don't give in to their demands, especially the petty ones. If you do, they'll see you as weak, and you'll have one hand tied behind your back even before you begin negotiations."

********

"I don't think Colonel Calle has a very progressive approach to intercultural contacts," said Allyson at dinner.

"He is right about one thing," said Mohammida. "If you show weakness, my people will exploit it."

"Mohammida, dear," said Allyson. "I have studied the Ramadhan culture. While there are certainly some zealots, overall the Laquintans are a loving people, with a rich, vibrant culture. I think if you studied them further-"

"I am from Ramada," Mohammida said. "And you might have a different view of my rich, vibrant culture if you were a fifteen year old girl forced to marry a seventy year old man."

"Those are just stories, spread by Laquintaphobes, to spread disinformation-"

"It happened to me," said Mohammida, her dark eyes flaring. "Like most World Government progressives, you don't know a thing of what you are talking about."

For a moment, all that could be heard was the awkward clattering of forks and knives. And then Ernie Maslarov said, "Isn't the pudding good tonight?"

********

Lieutenant Commander Sarah Blade was put under house arrest.

The news travelled like wildfire. Sarah Blade was confined to quarters, and charged with having inappropriate fraternization with members of the Cadet class.

Taylor's heart thumped heavily in his chest as he waited for the MP's to come and get him.

He looked around for them nearly every moment during morning exercise; his eyes were glued to the door in Colonel Calle's Diplomacy and First Contact class; and he looked around in Shipboard Mechanics, which had a guest lecturer in place of Sarah, an old man named Commander Bruce Finney.

The MP's didn't come. Instead, came an announcement, over all their Pads.

Lieutenant Commander Sarah Blade was being held pending a court martial for improper fraternization, and fraud. She was known to have had inappropriate contact with Cadets. All Cadets who had inappropriate contacts with her were required to turn themselves in. So far Sarah had named two cadets, Gerard Makolin and Bill Kenilworth.

Bill Kenilworth?

Taylor was shocked.

But Sarah hadn't named him.

Taylor was surprised, in more ways than one. He had had hints that Sarah was sleeping with other cadets, but he didn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. But now he couldn't deny it.

They must have put pressure on Sarah to get her to name Gerard and Bill. And yet... she hadn't named him. Why? Could it be that Sarah felt genuine affection for him, and was trying to protect him?

And then there was the biggest question of all. Should he turn himself in?

"Don't do it!" said Ambition. "Under no circumstances turn yourself in!"

"It's the right thing to do," said Integrity. "Here we are, trying to become a Survey Service officer, and you want us to lie?"

"Not to lie. Simply not to volunteer information!" said Ambition. "If Mike turns himself in, everything he worked so hard for will be wasted. His life as a Survey Service officer will be over even before it begins!"

Taylor felt his head pounding. He felt great cognitive dissonance. He couldn't decide what to do. He needed someone to talk to. But who could he possibly talk to about this?

Without realizing it, his feet carried him to Cherry's quarters. She was alone, her roommate was somewhere else. "Mike," she said, looking up at him. And in that glance, it was clear she knew everything. "Close the door," she said quietly.

*********

"How could you, Mike?" she asked, and there were tears in her eyes.

"I don't know!" said Taylor.

"How could you not know?" Cherry asked, with pain in her voice.

"I have had a... difficult history with girls," said Taylor. "Sarah said she could help me."

"Help you? By fucking you?" Cherry asked. Somehow, when she said the word, it sliced through Taylor's gut like a knife.

"She said she could teach me... how to do things better." At the time, Sarah had been thoroughly convincing, but now, here, in Cherry's room, Taylor's explanation sounded lame even to his own ears.

"So you had the best kind of tutor after all. The horizontal kind," said Cherry bitterly.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," said Taylor.

Cherry's face screwed up. "Why her and not me, Mike? You could have had me, any time you wanted!"

"Really?" said Taylor.

"You stupid fucking fool! Don't you know?" She searched his face. "Is it really possible you didn't know?" She stared at him. "Yes. Allyson was right."

"Allyson lied about me-"

"But one thing she said was right. You're clueless about women," said Cherry. "It's a blind spot, Mike. One you're going to have to overcome if you're going to become a good Survey Service officer."

"How? By having more sex lessons?"

Cherry shook her head. "No. By learning what's right in front of your face, and how to show a certain kind of... initiative." She saw the confusion in his face and frowned, turning away.

After a moment, Taylor said, "Should I turn myself in?"

"No, definitely not!" Cherry abruptly turned to face him again. "Never! Don't do that!"

"But what if Sarah names me?"

"She hasn't. And she won't," said Cherry.

"We can't be sure of that. And what if the Survey Service figures it out? They seem to know everything."

"If they knew everything, you'd be on a stratoliner back to Cambridge right now, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose," said Taylor.

She put a finger to his lips. "Don't, Mike. Resist the impulse. Say nothing, do nothing."

"But it's not honorable...."

"Life is not about being perfect. Life is about doing what's right. And it's not right for your career to be destroyed over this." Suddenly the tears were flowing again. "You're going to be a good Survey Service officer, Mike. Better than most of us, I think. Don't throw it away. Don't throw it in the atomizer for nothing."

Taylor felt shocked as he watched her sob. Why was she crying?

********

Taylor was called to the Commandant's office two hours later.

Sarah was there, in her full dress uniform, looking somber. She was flanked by two MP's in front of Captain Nigel Jesters, the base administrator. Jester had a reputation for being very tough on the Cadets. And of course Commandant Renton was there, smiling at Taylor blindly as he entered the room.

"Ah, Cadet Taylor. You're looking good today! Thank you for coming," said Renton. "Please, have a seat."

Taylor sat.

"By now you must have heard about the little trouble Commander Blade has gotten herself in."

Taylor nodded.

"Commander Blade has named two Cadets she... fraternized with. It seems she traded sex for better test scores."

"Sir?" Taylor was confused now.

"That's how we caught her," said Renton. "She was adjusting the test scores for some of the Cadets. That's definitely prohibited. We offered the Commander a deal, where she will be allowed to retire and avoid a court martial, in return for naming her accomplices. She named two cadets, and only two cadets."

"Sir?"

Renton stared pointedly at him. "We were wondering if there might be more."

Taylor risked a quick look at Sarah. She avoided eye contact, looking down at the floor.

"We heard that she was tutoring you, Cadet. Is that true?" Captain Jesters asked.

Taylor matched gazes with the Captain. "Yes sir."

"Did Commander Blade offer to raise your test scores in return for sexual congress?"

"No sir!" said Taylor.

"Did you have sexual congress with Commander Blade?"

Taylor hesitated for only a half second. "No sir!" He felt Captain Jester's eyes on him, as well as the Commandant's.

Renton nodded slowly. "Cadet Taylor, would you mind if Captain Jesters asked you a few more questions?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Guards, please take the Commander back to the holding area."

Taylor watched helplessly as Sarah was taken away. "What will be done to her, sir?"

"If she's telling the truth, she'll be discharged. She'll even get her pension."

"And if she's not?"

"Well, that's another kettle of space fish, isn't it?" said Commandant Renton. "Nigel, you may begin."

For the next fifteen minutes, Taylor was given the most thorough exam in Shipboard Mechanics he had ever had in his life. Jesters asked him question after question. Taylor wasn't always sure of the answers, but he stammered through them. Finally, when Jesters was done, he looked anxiously from Jester's face to the Commandant's.

There was silence for a long moment. Then Renton said, "Well, whatever else has gone on, you've certainly learned your Shipboard Mechanics."

Taylor resisted giving a visible sigh of relief.

Renton turned to Jesters. "Nigel, can you give me and the Cadet a few moments?"

Jesters nodded, and got up and left.

After he was gone, Renton turned to Taylor, and stared at him.

Taylor shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Then Renton said, "Do I know you, Cadet?"

Taylor's eyebrows lifted.

"I get the distinct feeling we've met before," said Renton.

"Sir?"

"I once addressed an audience at a grade school in Pennsylvania, and spoke one on one with a student afterwards who had interesting questions about space exploration. Was that you?"

"No sir," said Taylor.

"I also used to belong to a yacht club many years ago, and the marina manager had a son who sounded a lot like you. Was that you?"

"No sir," said Taylor. His heart sunk. Renton really didn't remember him.

"Hmmm," said Renton. "Then, I don't suppose you would have been that little boy who sat next to me on the Arcturus while we were waiting to see if we were going to plunge into the heart of a fiery sun together?"

"You remember!" said Taylor joyously. Suddenly he realized Renton had been playing with him. "How did you know?"