The Methuselan Circuit (28 page)

The scene faded yet again, but this time instead of curiosity Alexander felt only dread. He knew what was coming. They all looked at him, but before he lost his courage he rubbed the next bead. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee . . .”

When the new file started, he found himself in a warm tropical world standing over a fresh kill. The slain beast was a two-legged carnivore of about two galactic tons. It had a huge horn on its nose, as if it needed it to supplement the rows of sharp tusk-like teeth in its half-meter jaws.

Standing next to the kill was Grand Admiral Khandar, a tall, spare lordly looking Golkos with long silver hair. Stooping over the monster’s haunches was Ambassador Skreen. He tore out a section of the dinosaur’s leg, consuming it with obvious relish. Khandar chuckled and cut a chunk out of the carnivore’s tail. He offered half to Alexander’s father. Alexander grimaced as his father bit down on the raw flesh, but to his surprise it tasted warm and not bad at all. Khandar smiled and sank his sharp teeth into the steak. Nodding and grinning in satisfaction he swallowed his ceremonial kill. Then he tossed the rest on the ground and drew his sword.

“It is time to die Praetorian,” he said evenly, giving Alexander’s father the title of the only soldiers allowed to kill a king.

Ambassador Skreen looked up in surprise, but he said nothing, knowing this was the inevitable end and that he had the honorable position as witness.

Alexander’s father drew his own sword and saluted the Grand Admiral.

“Do not make it quick,” Khandar told him. “I want to feel every drop of life drain from me; it has been a glorious existence!” The Grand Admiral saluted and attacked.

Alexander watched the dual with a mixture of fascination and horror. It did not end quickly, and Alexander’s father did not escape unscathed. Yet in the end, he wrapped Grand Admiral Khandar’s body up with his sword on his breast within a cloth of gold Golkos ceremonial burial cloak. The Grand Admiral’s rank and family crest were embroidered on the cloak. Commander Wolfe pressed a switch on his vambrace and a deadly but small black ship appeared. It landed automatically at the killing site. Instead of placing the corpse on an anti-grav stretcher, Commander Wolfe himself carried the body to his tiny quarters and laid the Grand Admiral on his own bunk, the only one in the ship. Ambassador Skreen paid his final respects and then sealed the quarters. The Commander climbed into his seat without another word and lifted off, leaving the killing site.

CHAPTER 21: The Blue Beam

When Alexander emerged from the experience of an Engram Holo-V, he was numb. It was only when he saw the expression on James face that he realized what his friends must have gone through. The others felt similarly, but James simply shook his head. “I never knew her; I have almost no memories of her, so it’s not like it’s real.” He paused, still trying to make sense of it, finally shaking his head. “I can’t get over it; she was on this ship with me, but I never knew it. God, no wonder Dad’s a drunk!”

There wasn’t much else they could do for James. Alexander turned to the combat report, realizing his next duty was to contact Khandar. It was dry, matter-of-fact and to the point. It dispensed with the drama and emotion of the visual recording, but it did not ignore the unique nature of the assassination, nor the point that it was accomplished under the Golkos code of chivalry. Ambassador Skreen’s narrative was less formal and more true to the tragedy of the event.

Also included was a short but interesting synopsis of both Wolfe and Skreen’s career after the event. Neither Commander Wolfe nor Ambassador Skreen escaped unscathed. The Golkos were furious that Commander Wolfe allowed the Grand Admiral to die according to their code of honor. In fact, when the details of the duel emerged—without Commander Wolfe’s name being mentioned, after all, according to the Terran Pro Consul he didn’t exist—the Golkos public demanded a state funeral and a monument to the Grand Admiral.

The Golkos demanded more satisfaction than the Terran Pro Consul could give. After several unsuccessful attempts to have Commander Wolfe killed in the line of duty, the Pro Consul retired him from service. Rumor was, the Commander was considering venting his growing frustration on the Pro Consul as he really had nothing to lose. He retired quietly to Vashon Island, and the Pro Consul didn’t address his oversight in retirement protocol—he failed to fill out his retirement paperwork and failed to turn in his government issued equipment. They sent him the paperwork via mail and never asked about anything else.

Ambassador Skreen also came under pressure, but that pressure turned him into an operative for the anti-Gaian forces. Unfortunately that led him to his death far from home in a manner far less noble than he deserved.

Leaving the others to watch over James, Alexander crossed the troop transport to where Khandar sat with his flight. Hostile expressions greeted him, not just from Khandar but from his classmates. More than once he heard, “What do you want here, Terran?” and that was from other Terrans!

“He was there at your father’s death,” Alexander said. He motioned Khandar to follow him, and surprisingly the Golkos did just that. Once alone, Alexander activated the Rosary and left Khandar with it. He wandered to a window, wondering what to do next. The view from the window was magnificent. The bright blue and white marble of Terra showed in three quarter phase below with the Academy rotating slowly above it. He stayed there for a half hour or so before Lisa, Treya and James found him, but when he explained what he’d done they were shocked.

“You gave him the files—all of them,” James exclaimed. When Alexander nodded, he put his hands over his eyes and groaned. “What if he gives them to Fjallheim? Did you think of that? We’ll be in the brig for sure, if not on a one way trip to Pantrixnia!”

“Hopefully, he can’t read the files with the engrammatic encryption; those are the dangerous ones,” Treya said nervously. “There’s no telling what the centurion will do if he sees them. He’s been promised the Commandant’s position and he’s already murdered for it.”

“Who’s murdered for what?” asked the unmistakable voice of Centurion Fjallheim.

Treya, James and Lisa looked dumbfounded—and guilty. Alexander, already stinging from their hauling over the coals and finding out his father was truly a Spook felt the weight of self pity heavily on his skinny shoulders. “That’s my fault,” he admitted grumpily. “I was telling them about the three bodies I found. Whoever did it won’t have any qualms taking care of some nosey cadet—so I don’t want to know anything more about it—it’s none of my business.”

Centurion Fjallheim was so taken aback by Alexander’s admission that he turned around to leave, but he glanced over his shoulder before walking away. “This is a departure for you, Cadet Wolfe, common sense that is. I don’t know whether or not I’m truly disappointed in you.”

“Yes sir, I’ve got exams to study for,” Alexander said, and he left the window for his seat. The others followed, but he was done talking. He immersed himself in his homework and readings, ignoring the others. That didn’t work for long. He found he couldn’t concentrate on anything serious, so he played computer games, losing himself in the meaningless rituals of escapism. Nothing his friends could do or say would get him out of his funk. When they finally docked, Alexander fulfilled his duties as flight Lead and then retreated to his bunk where he closed the curtains and continued studying.

The dinner bell rang, but Alexander wasn’t hungry. His friends tried to get him to go, but he steadfastly refused, instead catching up on his gaming. The same went for the next day and the day after. After a few days of self imposed exile, he began to actually enjoy it. He was catching up on his work and no longer distracted by what was going on outside the Academy. The only real downer was Z-Crosse. He seemed to have lost his desire for the game. He no longer had the competitive chip on his shoulder and without that he was getting pummeled. Still, he didn’t get angry; he took it in stride. During Saturday’s game against Khandar’s flight he started in goal. As usual, Khandar went out of his way to take cheap shots at him. Alexander took it stoically, and it was soon apparent to everyone that his heart wasn’t in it. After he let in a half dozen goals in the first quarter, Corporal Breen, a small wiry legionary who served as their coach, scratched his head. “What’s going on Cadet Wolfe? You were better in goal on your first day when you didn’t know which end of your zoots was up!”

He shrugged and sat on the bench.

His flight never caught up after falling so far behind and Alexander was roundly ignored after the game; but that was fine with him. It wasn’t fine with Lieutenant Mortimer though. She called him in after class the following Monday.

“What is going on Cadet Wolfe?” she asked sternly. “You’re scores have fallen sharply over the last two weeks.”

“I’ve turned in all of my assignments Ma’am,” he insisted.

“You’ve turned them in—that’s true,” she frowned. “Yet I note that your work and especially your conclusions do not correspond with your classmates. Have you been working with your study group?”

“No Ma’am,” he admitted.

She stared at him with her perfectly blue eyes, reminding him, “Cadet this curriculum is not designed for an individual. It is designed as much for teaching you new knowledge as for teaching you teamwork.”

“I prefer to work alone Ma’am.”

“Then you will fail alone and flunk out of the Academy,” she told him firmly. “No one gets through the Academy as a lone wolf, no pun intended.”

“My father worked alone,” he replied belligerently.

Her expression turned to one of surprise. Almost immediately her brows furrowed and her blue eyes became glacial. “It isn’t your father who is throwing away the opportunity of a lifetime Alexander.” That jarred him. Lt. Mortimer had never used a cadet’s first name—ever. He sat up, now attentive. “I understand you have trepidation concerning your father’s service.” She hesitated, but then added, “The service required by the Fleet and the Legions is not pleasant nor glorious yet it is the service required of us. To have done your duty well and honorably is as much as the empire can ask. Without that service, well,” she shook her head and turned on her desktop Holo-V. The hologram of riots in Terran cities played out on her desk. “Look at them,” she said with contempt. “Look at them whine and complain over not getting enough handouts! Their whole existence is enabled through entitlements, and now they riot because they want what we Citizens work for! If it wasn’t for our service Cadet Wolfe, these people would starve!” She shook her head and punched the Holo-V off in disgust. “They are the mob; they can be used, but I don’t know if they will ever be useful.”

She looked hard at him. “Get back into your study group—that’s a direct order. I will not have my star pupil flunk out of the Academy. I have high hopes for you, Cadet Wolfe; I have extraordinarily high hopes for you! Don’t you dare disappoint me!”

Whatever else she may have been, Lt. Mortimer had a way of spurring even the most petulant boy on. Alexander hated to admit it, but he really didn’t want to disappoint her. When he exited her classroom his friends were waiting for him. This time, he looked up and recognized them.

He shrugged, “I suppose I have to follow orders.” He looked at them and sighed, a shade of a smile on his face. He was embarassed, but he said, “Thanks for not giving up on me guys. I don’t know why you didn’t, but thanks.”

James punched him in the shoulder. Treya tweaked his ear. Lisa bumped him with her hip. “Come on, we have to get to Professor Nussbaum’s class!” They walked down the corridor on the way to the Tube, but before they got there and announcement came over the loudspeaker.

“All cadets report to the Tube for a Presidential address, repeat, all cadets report to the Tube.” They looked at each other. Since they’d started at the Academy, there was never any occasion for the entire Cadet Corps to gather. They didn’t know what to expect, but they hurried to the Tube. When they got there Centurion Fjallheim was directing his sergeants who were directing their corporals who were directing the flight leads to get the cadets in formation. A huge Holo-V floated in the center of the Tube and the cadet classes were arranged in concentric circles around it. As the formation took shape it reminded Alexander of a virtual stadium, only instead of seats the cadets stood at station-keeping, maintaining the formation in zero-G. It took some doing, but as drill was an everyday occurrence in one way or another, the cadets got it.