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Part IV
February 19th, 2001
THE ACADEMY
On Christmas day, 2046, Eric went to see his father in Lompoc. The so-called rest home was really a retirement village with individual, small homes in a series of concentric rings around a central shopping area and a park. Robots accompanied the residents everywhere as they walked and talked in the park. Eric got out of the cab, approached his father's house and knocked on the door.
A slender, very friendly and warm looking robot, answered the door and smiled. Its voice was deep and mellow, like a male singer. "Hello. I'm Herbie. Ah ... you look like young mister MacDonald."
"That's me. I'm here to see dad."
"Of course. Let me show you in. But I believe Steve is sleeping. Here, let me take those presents for you," the robot said, bowing slightly.
Eric stepped inside and had a seat in a comfortable leather recliner while Herbie placed the presents under a nicely decorated artificial Christmas tree. The tree was in front of a very large window, perhaps three meters tall and almost as wide that looked out over a green, lush park. The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the hardwood floor and warmed the room. Eric sat back and closed his eyes.
It wasn't long before his father appeared in the living room, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, stretching and yawning. He spotted his son dozing lightly. "Eric!"
Eric jumped up and ran to his father. "So, dad, how's it going?" he said as they hugged.
"Oh, same as usual, here. But how about you, son? How was that first semester at the Merchant Academy? You must have a lot to tell."
"Oh, yes. Indeed, I have a story for you. Um. By the way, got anything good to eat?" Steve MacDonald showed his son into the kitchen and asked Herbie to prepare them ham and cheddar sandwiches, cookies, hot tea and milk. As Eric devoured his sandwich, he recounted all the events of the past few months, omitting some of the details with the young women he had met. As he was winding down, talking about the glorious descent in the shuttle to Port Vandenberg, his father began to roll his eyes around and chuckle.
"You certainly have an unusual way of getting things done, Eric. The Air Force Academy, huh? In two weeks? Pretty impressive."
"I knew you'd be proud of me, dad."
"Well, it's gonna be a little different there, you know. You're, uh, unconventional approaches might not go over so well."
"Oh, don't worry, dad. I won't let you down, I promise. Really."
After the snack, they went for a walk and chatted. Herbie stayed discreetly behind but always within earshot should his master need anything. As the winter sun set behind the distant trees, the Christmas lights in the park's trees came on and a group of carolers, young men and women, approached wearing bright red capes. Eric and his dad greeted them as they passed, then sat on a park bench and enjoyed the sounds and sights of Christmas in the village.
Eric thought to himself, as he took a deep breath of crisp evening air, that it was nice to be back on the good, green Earth.
The first morning that Eric arrived at the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs filled him with awe. As his cab wound its way through the campus, he saw sights that he'd only dreamed of and read about. As they drove along the main road, he spotted a graceful, brilliant white sailplane circling overhead, passed by the famous chapel, saw squads of cadets marching, and gawked at monuments to the famous jet planes of the past. At one intersection, there was one of the old Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptors supported on a giant steel beam, posed as if it were climbing steeply. The sight took Eric's breath away.
Eric wasn't surprised that the first morning of in processing was routine. He was sure that would be the last routine event of his career. There were documents to sign, uniforms to be fitted, the customary humiliating haircut, physical and eye exams, photos and an ID card to be made, and briefings to attend. They finished the day in an auditorium where they watched, as Eric called it, indoctrination holos. When the session broke up, groups of cadets were summoned to private offices. They were told that each cadet would be assigned a mentor, an instructor at the Academy who would personally guide and counsel each of them through their stay. As Eric sat in a small office with five other cadets, looking at the beautiful photos and holos on the wall, the door burst open and in strutted a very large man.
"Room, ten hut!"
Eric jumped to his feet and stood at attention. A very tall, robust looking black man strutted up to Eric and stood directly in front of him, almost nose to nose "Well, well. If it isn't MacDonald, the weasel." Eric was looking directly into the blazing, near black eyes of Major Carl Forney. He was speechless.
"I presume you learned how to talk at some point?" the Major scowled.
"Yes, sir!"
"Gentlemen, we are at war. No one knows yet who or what is out there, but one of our starships was attacked. There is no time for games, and no time for fooling around." Major Forney paused, stepped back, and surveyed the cadets. "If you succeed here, and succeed well, you'll earn gold bars and the privilege of going on to flight school. Maybe, if we survive long enough, the best of you will get to go out there and kick some butt as well. But if you mess up in this school in any way, I'll personally throw your sorry ass out of here." He turned his attention to Eric and squinted. "Have I made myself abundantly clear?"
In unison, they all shouted. "Yes, sir!"
Eric navigated his way back to his assigned dormitory, mumbled to himself about his fortune in drawing Major Forney as his mentor, stowed his gear, and pulled out the vid-pad that he was given. He curled up in bed and started doing some research on the Ultranet. He checked the news feeds and found out that there had been no encounters with the extraterrestrials except for the attack on the Lovell as it entered the Kuiper belt, at 34 astronomical units from the sun. The United States, Russia, China, and western Europe were talking about and gearing up for war, but the general feeling was uneasy because they didn't really know what to expect or how to prepare.
It was a crisp Monday in late February when Eric arrived at the airfield for his first flight instruction. It had snowed a few days before, but now the sky was blue and crisp, and the sun had burned off the few inches of snow from the runways. He walked along the tarmac until he found hanger C and entered through a side door. All by itself, in the middle of the hanger was a beautiful, white Nimbus 16 sailplane. At first he didn't notice, but then he saw that there was a woman sitting in the cockpit. Eric approached and watched her as she appeared to be dictating to a vid-pad. As he came up to the plane, she looked up, saw him, and climbed out of the cockpit. Eric observed that she was tall, perhaps 180 cm, and had long, light brown hair, some of it streaked with pale shades of red. She was wearing a grey, one-piece jump suit, dark sunglasses and a baseball cap.
"You cadet MacDonald?" she asked, tossing her hair off her face with a quick movement of her head.
"Yes ma'am."
"I'm cadet Chandler Whitcomb. Junior class. I'm your flight instructor." Eric was surprised. Once again. Ever since in processing, nothing ever happened at this place that he expected. She motioned for him to follow. "Help me push the hanger doors open." As they both leaned against one of the hanger doors, Whitcomb took off her sunglasses and appeared to be sizing him up. "How much do you weigh?"
"About eighty-six kilos. Why?"
"Center of gravity calculations. Are you sure you're not too tall for flight school?"
"I'm just under the limit ma'am. Hope I don't grow any more." Eric got to see her face close up for the first time as they talked. She had high cheek bones and a slim nose. Her eyes were light grey and wide-set. She had a steady, composed gaze.
"Call me Chandler. Ever been in one of these sailplanes before?"
"No ma'am."
"It has a small jet engine. Sailplane pilots only use it for takeoff, but we added some fuel tubes in the wings and run the engine lots more. You'll do all your flying in the Nimbus while you're here."
"A glider?"
"Actually, it's flight characteristics are a lot like the advanced fighters. More so than the business jets and old trainers we used to use. When you get to flight school, then you'll start in a T-49."
"Yeah, I read about those. Way cool."
"Tell you what. Go out there and lift the right wing. Don't pull. Don't push. Just lift it off the ground while I push the plane out onto the taxiway."
Eric did so while he watched the strong, lithe woman grab the edge of the canopy and push on the plane. Her long hair blew about gently in the crisp breeze, and he decided that he was quite thoroughly, completely in love.
During the early evening of April 7th, 2047, the S.S. Lovell, retrofitted with new defenses and heavily armed, along with its newly commissioned sister ship, the S.S. Haise, prepared to leave Earth orbit and head for the Kuiper belt at Right Ascension 6 hours. Eric was in the dining hall, eating dinner with Chandler, his new SO, watching the event on the big screen holos. Shuttles with cameras hovered all around the two starships and sent back magnificent images. Some shuttle shots were from above, framing the Lovell against the snow capped peaks of Tibet. Others sent back views from below, and the warships gleamed silvery and white as the unfiltered sun reflected off their hulls, creating a stark contrast against the blackness of space. As the two starships accelerated slowly and moved majestically forward, the news broadcasters were busy dramatizing the event to epic proportions.
Eric pulled out his vid-pad and looked for news items that listed the crew members. He found out that seventy percent of the original crew were aboard the Lovell -- the rest replaced with experienced combat marines, weapons operators and a group from the Corps of Engineers including fifty heavy duty robots. Captain Boudreau was still in command. Newly promoted First Lieutenant Harris was also aboard, along with Sergeant Garcia. He recognized some other names as well, acquaintances from his first voyage. Absent were Major Forney who, of course, was busy making his life miserable at the Academy and Lt. Colonel Kelso whose whereabouts he could not determine.
Chandler watched Eric staring intently at the vid-pad. "What's up?" she asked.
"Just checking on the Lovell's crew. I have some friends on that ship."
"How bad was it? The first time you were attacked, I mean?"
"I was scared as hell. I didn't think we were gonna make it home."
Chandler reached out and touched Eric's hand. "I hear our ships are armed to the teeth now," she said as she looked up at the screens.
"Yep. They both have monster magnetic field generators. To deflect proton beams. And they've each got a heavily shielded Tokamak driving four X-ray lasers."
"Do we have directed energy proton weapons?"
"Not yet," Eric said. "I hear it's gonna take another year before those weapons are ready. I sure wish we knew more what we're up against."
"Think they'll attack Earth?"
"No one knows. We don't have a clue how many ships are out there. I guess they could have, if they wanted to." Eric looked up at the screens again.
As the two starships faded into the star-filled black sky, becoming tiny points of light, Eric, along with billions of men and women on Earth, quietly bowed their heads and prayed.
A week later, Eric was in Karate class, engaging in sparring practice, when one of the instructors approached. "Cadet MacDonald?"
"That's me."
"Major Forney wants to see you right away."
"Like, now?"
"Like five minutes ago."
"Tell him I'm on my way."
The door to Major Forney's office was open. Eric knocked briefly and stuck his head through the doorway. Major Forney was pacing. "MacDonald? Come in. Have a seat."
Eric, still in his gee, sat down on a black leather couch and waited. The Major continued to pace, looking at the ceiling. Finally, after a few minutes, the Major went to his desk, sat down, folded his hands together, and looked at Eric with a mixture of intensity and sadness. "Cadet MacDonald. I ... I wanted to tell you this before it hits the news." He paused and looked away, staring at the wall for a second.
"Go ahead, sir."
"I am told that the Lovell was lost in combat. All hands. The Haise is badly damaged and limping home. ETA is three weeks."
Eric was at a loss for words. At first, he just stared at the Major. "Are we sure?"
"Yes. The Captain of the Haise has confirmed it. Some of the bodies were recovered."
"What happened?" Eric heard himself ask, but he was growing numb.
"The Lovell and the Haise engaged three of the extraterrestrial ships. The Lovell apparently destroyed one of the enemy ships but took heavy enemy fire from the other two and broke up. The Haise thinks they crippled a second ship. It went adrift. The third pulled back,. The Haise was badly damaged in the encounter and is on emergency power. They boarded what was left of the Lovell and recovered forty-one bodies. Out of two hundred and sixty. They estimate a week to repair and get underway."
"Any fatalities on the Haise, sir?"
"Don't know yet. Maybe. Listen. I know you had friends on the Lovell."
"It's okay, sir. It's okay." Eric stood up and almost lost his balance, shaken from the news. At that moment, he swore to himself that, someday, he would make the ETs pay for killing Laurette.
"I dropped a file onto your vid-pad," the Major continued. "Check it when you get back to your quarters. And take the rest of the day off. You'll hear this on the news soon enough. If you need anything, anything at all, call me."
Eric never did remember the walk back to his dormitory. When he got there, he slouched into his desk and absently looked at his vid-pad.
Personal History Record: Short Form, 1st Lieutenant
Laurette Ashley Harris, 562-22-1003
Born, 7 March 2020, Honolulu, HI.
Graduated Escambia High School, Pensacola, FL,
2038. SAT: 765/800
FL state swimming champion, 2037, 2038.
U.S. Olympic team, Munich, 2038. Silver: 100m
freestyle, Bronze: 100m butterfly.
U.S. Olympic team, Montreal, 2042, Gold: 400m
I.M. relay, Gold: 50m and 100m freestyle, Silver:
100m butterfly.
Entered USAF Academy, Sep 2042. Graduated, May
2046, with highest honors. B.S. Astronavigation.
Commissioned Second Lieutenant.
Assigned S.S. Lovell, July 2046. Promoted to
First Lieutenant, March, 2047.
Killed in action, April 14th, 2047 on board
S.S. Lovell in deep space. No remains recovered.Eric got up from his desk, delirious with confusion and pain. He blinked back tears as he flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Then he reached inside his gee and pulled out the St. Christopher's medal that Laurette had given him. He turned it over and looked at the initials, L.H., with blurry eyes as he struggled to remain in control. Slowly, clutching the medal,. he curled up into a fetal position, and pulled the covers over his shoulders. Then, for the first time since his mother died, he wept uncontrollably.
Copyright 2001 by John
Martellaro, All rights reserved. Quantum Threads banner
artwork by Tracy Haynes.
About the Author
John Martellaro lives in Colorado at 2,800 meters above sea level with a Ph.D. wife and two cats, Nikki and Data. He holds a B.S. in Astrophysics and an M.S. in Physics. His hobbies, include amateur astronomy, downhill skiing, bicycling, and listening to piano solos. His personal Macs are a B&W G3/400 with a flat screen Studio Display and a blueberry iBook.
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