Jane lay back, in the dark, jumpsuit too tight against her skin. The fleet did not have any modicum of fashion sense.
The bulkhead door slid open, and someone slid in. Apparently at one of her new crewmates was done with their watch.
A moment later, the light flicked on, and Jane cringed. The woman who stood in the doorway had skin darker than Janes, dark hair, and brown eyes. She glanced down at where Jane lay on her bunk, then away.
The bulkhead door slid open, and someone slid in. Apparently at one of her new crewmates was done with their watch.
A moment later, the light flicked on, and Jane cringed. The woman who stood in the doorway had skin darker than Janes, dark hair, and brown eyes. She glanced down at where Jane lay on her bunk, then away.
“So you’re the Padder, are you?” The woman asked.
Jane looked away. “Shut up, and turn off the light, sobe.”
The woman laughed. “Fine by me. If you want to lie about what you’ve done, feel free-just understand that no-one gives a damn.”
“Yeah.” Jane said. “That was me.”
The other woman nodded. “Like I said, no-one cares. We’ve got enough half-trained idiots running around that they’re not going to care if they drafted you, sentenced you, or enlisted you. They’re just going to care if you do your job right.”
“Thanks.” Jane said. Honestly, she had come to all these conclusions herself-having someone drill them into her was completely unnecessary.
“I’m Sadira, by the way.” The woman said, turning from where she was grabbing something out of the dresser to extend a hand to Jane.
Inwardly, Jane sighed. She wasn’t going to get out of this without a conversation, so she nodded and shook Sadira’s hand. “I’m Jane Steele, ma’am.” She introduced herself.
Sadira laughed. “For the record, I’m no older than you are-I just went about joining in a way that wasn’t illegal.”
“Which would be what, exactly?”
“I served for a year in the Recon Corp, way out in the back of the beyond. The kind of planet that gets you really well acquainted with the hardships they faced back in the 20th century.” Jane couldn’t tell if Sadira was joking or not.
“Where were yoU?” Jane asked, wondering how she could best lead the conversation to a quick conclusion.
“Unfortunately, that is classified-and that must make me sound way more important than I actually am.” Sadira laughed. “I will say, though, that we were well outside the range of anywhere we’re going in the Fleet.” She shook her head. “Anyway, tell me about yourself, Middie Steele.” Sadira flopped down on her rack, kicking her boots off. Jane could see now that they were actually constructed very differently than the ones she had been issued-they were more rugged, and less polished.
Jane started hesitantly, not entirely sure what to explain to this strange woman. “I was born in the Thirteenth Year of the Republic on one of the worlds on the Arm. It was a Mil-Ind type of world-the kind that actually improved when the Republic privatized Hazzard Technology.”
“So your strike group is Valkyrie?”
“Yeah.”
Sadira made a face. “Pardon my language, but Admiral Dare’s a bitch.”
“Excuse me?” Jane asked, glancing over to the other womans bunk. “She’s not a pleasant person, but she’s an effective governor.”
Sadira shook her head. “Maybe she’s just unpopular in the Recon Corp, but she’s my least favorite member of the Coven.”
Jane frowned. “What’s the Coven?”
“You really haven’t been around here very long, have you?” Sadira asked. “The Coven’s the nickname for the Founders in the service-they tend to send Tactical agents after anyone who calls them the Junta, but apparently calling them witches is alright.”
Jane shuddered. “Lets not talk about Tactical, can we?”
“Fine by me-but they’re just men, Steele.” Sadira said. “Unfortunately, they bleed just like the rest of us. They’re not robots, or aliens, or hell-spawned demons like everyone says they are.”
Jane was silent for a moment, before saying “Maybe not, but you wouldn’t be jumping to defend them if you’d ever really seen them. I’ve seen Tactical agents shoot people in the middle of a street. Oh, they were committing crimes at the time-but if you steal a tablet, you don’t deserve a bullet between your eyes.”
“It was never like that anywhere I’ve been. They’ve been guardians. Harsh ones, but I’ve never seen them do anything a member of the normal police wouldn’t do.”
Jane shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. I have no idea who you are-I’d really rather not talk about the Founders or Tactical with you.”
“You think I’m an informant.” Sadira said coldly.
“You practically said so out loud! Listen, normal people don’t call the rare occasion when a Tactical agent bleeds ‘unfortunate’.”
Sadira didn’t say anything, grabbed some nightclothes, and stormed off to the head to change-there was precious little privacy to be had.
As she walked through the small rec area that was at the center of the ships living quarters-the Warbler was designed to be tethered to a Strike Group, but could in theory be alone in space for weeks at a time-she heard someone say her name.
“Midshipman Steele!”
Jane froze, then turned slowly. A man, easily twice her age stood in the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. The name badge on his uniform identified him as ‘Jae Ali’.
She snapped to attention, then saluted. “Yes, sir!”
He shook his head, and smiled. “At ease, Ms. Steele. We’re onboard a ship that will enable Fleet to lock us up with each other for extremely long periods of time if they so require. We’re not going to stand on formalities-though of course, discipline is entirely different.”
“Understood.” She barely stopped herself from saying ‘Sir’.
“I don’t believe we’ve met, formally, yet-I just got back from my interview with the Skipper, and she seems... Special.”
“I liked her.” Jane said, only then realizing that she still had her arms stiff at her waist, and loosening them.
“Oh yes, Commander Shan has built herself a reputation in certain circles. She’s viewed as one of the best young commanders since the Founders.”
“Then with all due respect to them and her, then what did she do to get assigned to this?” Jane gestured around her, at the cramped confines. “This is practically a glorified fighter.”
Ali smiled. “I hope to prove you wrong in that-I served on one of these Oscen gunships in the Republic-Imperiata war, and they pack more firepower and survivability than anything this size has a right to. However, I digress. Mrs. Steele, I’ve been going over the ships roster with the Skipper, and we’ve noticed something troubling about one of the other members on the crew. Does the name ‘Chase Burton’ mean anything to you?”
Jane’s heart leapt. “Yes!”
Ali’s face hardened. “Understand, Midshipman Steele, that no-one cares about your personal relationships. He’s just a fellow soldier to you, understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She said, not caring that it was a lie. Chase had been transferred to the same ship as her-that made the fact that they had been discovered all worth it.
“While we’re embarked-by which I mean on the Warbler-you’re brothers-in-arms. When we’re docked with a Carrier or Station, or planetside, do whatever you want to-unfortunately, we can’t stop you. But if the Skipper or I catch a whiff of either of you acting out of line with the other, there will be consequences. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” She repeated, nodding, still lying.
Ali sighed. “A word of personal advice, soldier, though I know you won’t heed it: Don’t do anything with him while we’re embarked. I know you both Padded to get in, I know your history with him-your Dossiers make that quite clear. You’re dismissed, soldier.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After changing, she stepped back into the Middie’s Bunkroom, in a far better mood that was only partially dampened by seeing Sadira’s Recon Corp boots propped up at the end of her bed.
As Jane stuffed her uniform into her trunk, she heard Sadira say, “It’s because of my father.”
She froze. “What was that?”
“My father worked with Tactical. That’s why I didn’t mention my last name-he’s one of only half a dozen or so Tactical agents whose identity is publicly known outside of Tactical itself. He wrote a book on it. He’s not a household name or anything, but for someone with a particularly pronounced hatred for them... Well, I don’t advertise it.”
Jane looked down. “What made him get out? Had to spy on too many innocent people? Got ordered to commit one atrocity too many?”
“No. He lost an arm.” Jane said nothing, and Sadira continued. “It was during one of the last battles of the Republic-Imperiata war. There was this prison, called Gladius, that was one of the last holdouts of Imperiata resistance. His unit was sent in as an advance force, took some hits... He lost an arm.”
Jane bit back a retort of ‘serves him right’.
“They were a different organization back then, Jane.” Sadira said. “They were literally ‘tactical’-Special Forces units that were used for nuts that were particularly hard to crack. And a lot of his friends were already planning on leaving the service after the end of the war.”
“So in other words, no, I can’t trust you.” Jane spat, glaring at Sadira. Thank you for at least being honest about that.”
“I didn’t know why I thought I’d trust you.” Sadira said bitterly.
Jane ignored her. If she was going to be stuck with an informant for the rest of her enlistment, she didn’t have to be happy about it.
Jane looked away. “Shut up, and turn off the light, sobe.”
The woman laughed. “Fine by me. If you want to lie about what you’ve done, feel free-just understand that no-one gives a damn.”
“Yeah.” Jane said. “That was me.”
The other woman nodded. “Like I said, no-one cares. We’ve got enough half-trained idiots running around that they’re not going to care if they drafted you, sentenced you, or enlisted you. They’re just going to care if you do your job right.”
“Thanks.” Jane said. Honestly, she had come to all these conclusions herself-having someone drill them into her was completely unnecessary.
“I’m Sadira, by the way.” The woman said, turning from where she was grabbing something out of the dresser to extend a hand to Jane.
Inwardly, Jane sighed. She wasn’t going to get out of this without a conversation, so she nodded and shook Sadira’s hand. “I’m Jane Steele, ma’am.” She introduced herself.
Sadira laughed. “For the record, I’m no older than you are-I just went about joining in a way that wasn’t illegal.”
“Which would be what, exactly?”
“I served for a year in the Recon Corp, way out in the back of the beyond. The kind of planet that gets you really well acquainted with the hardships they faced back in the 20th century.” Jane couldn’t tell if Sadira was joking or not.
“Where were yoU?” Jane asked, wondering how she could best lead the conversation to a quick conclusion.
“Unfortunately, that is classified-and that must make me sound way more important than I actually am.” Sadira laughed. “I will say, though, that we were well outside the range of anywhere we’re going in the Fleet.” She shook her head. “Anyway, tell me about yourself, Middie Steele.” Sadira flopped down on her rack, kicking her boots off. Jane could see now that they were actually constructed very differently than the ones she had been issued-they were more rugged, and less polished.
Jane started hesitantly, not entirely sure what to explain to this strange woman. “I was born in the Thirteenth Year of the Republic on one of the worlds on the Arm. It was a Mil-Ind type of world-the kind that actually improved when the Republic privatized Hazzard Technology.”
“So your strike group is Valkyrie?”
“Yeah.”
Sadira made a face. “Pardon my language, but Admiral Dare’s a bitch.”
“Excuse me?” Jane asked, glancing over to the other womans bunk. “She’s not a pleasant person, but she’s an effective governor.”
Sadira shook her head. “Maybe she’s just unpopular in the Recon Corp, but she’s my least favorite member of the Coven.”
Jane frowned. “What’s the Coven?”
“You really haven’t been around here very long, have you?” Sadira asked. “The Coven’s the nickname for the Founders in the service-they tend to send Tactical agents after anyone who calls them the Junta, but apparently calling them witches is alright.”
Jane shuddered. “Lets not talk about Tactical, can we?”
“Fine by me-but they’re just men, Steele.” Sadira said. “Unfortunately, they bleed just like the rest of us. They’re not robots, or aliens, or hell-spawned demons like everyone says they are.”
Jane was silent for a moment, before saying “Maybe not, but you wouldn’t be jumping to defend them if you’d ever really seen them. I’ve seen Tactical agents shoot people in the middle of a street. Oh, they were committing crimes at the time-but if you steal a tablet, you don’t deserve a bullet between your eyes.”
“It was never like that anywhere I’ve been. They’ve been guardians. Harsh ones, but I’ve never seen them do anything a member of the normal police wouldn’t do.”
Jane shook her head. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. I have no idea who you are-I’d really rather not talk about the Founders or Tactical with you.”
“You think I’m an informant.” Sadira said coldly.
“You practically said so out loud! Listen, normal people don’t call the rare occasion when a Tactical agent bleeds ‘unfortunate’.”
Sadira didn’t say anything, grabbed some nightclothes, and stormed off to the head to change-there was precious little privacy to be had.
As she walked through the small rec area that was at the center of the ships living quarters-the Warbler was designed to be tethered to a Strike Group, but could in theory be alone in space for weeks at a time-she heard someone say her name.
“Midshipman Steele!”
Jane froze, then turned slowly. A man, easily twice her age stood in the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back. The name badge on his uniform identified him as ‘Jae Ali’.
She snapped to attention, then saluted. “Yes, sir!”
He shook his head, and smiled. “At ease, Ms. Steele. We’re onboard a ship that will enable Fleet to lock us up with each other for extremely long periods of time if they so require. We’re not going to stand on formalities-though of course, discipline is entirely different.”
“Understood.” She barely stopped herself from saying ‘Sir’.
“I don’t believe we’ve met, formally, yet-I just got back from my interview with the Skipper, and she seems... Special.”
“I liked her.” Jane said, only then realizing that she still had her arms stiff at her waist, and loosening them.
“Oh yes, Commander Shan has built herself a reputation in certain circles. She’s viewed as one of the best young commanders since the Founders.”
“Then with all due respect to them and her, then what did she do to get assigned to this?” Jane gestured around her, at the cramped confines. “This is practically a glorified fighter.”
Ali smiled. “I hope to prove you wrong in that-I served on one of these Oscen gunships in the Republic-Imperiata war, and they pack more firepower and survivability than anything this size has a right to. However, I digress. Mrs. Steele, I’ve been going over the ships roster with the Skipper, and we’ve noticed something troubling about one of the other members on the crew. Does the name ‘Chase Burton’ mean anything to you?”
Jane’s heart leapt. “Yes!”
Ali’s face hardened. “Understand, Midshipman Steele, that no-one cares about your personal relationships. He’s just a fellow soldier to you, understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She said, not caring that it was a lie. Chase had been transferred to the same ship as her-that made the fact that they had been discovered all worth it.
“While we’re embarked-by which I mean on the Warbler-you’re brothers-in-arms. When we’re docked with a Carrier or Station, or planetside, do whatever you want to-unfortunately, we can’t stop you. But if the Skipper or I catch a whiff of either of you acting out of line with the other, there will be consequences. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” She repeated, nodding, still lying.
Ali sighed. “A word of personal advice, soldier, though I know you won’t heed it: Don’t do anything with him while we’re embarked. I know you both Padded to get in, I know your history with him-your Dossiers make that quite clear. You’re dismissed, soldier.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After changing, she stepped back into the Middie’s Bunkroom, in a far better mood that was only partially dampened by seeing Sadira’s Recon Corp boots propped up at the end of her bed.
As Jane stuffed her uniform into her trunk, she heard Sadira say, “It’s because of my father.”
She froze. “What was that?”
“My father worked with Tactical. That’s why I didn’t mention my last name-he’s one of only half a dozen or so Tactical agents whose identity is publicly known outside of Tactical itself. He wrote a book on it. He’s not a household name or anything, but for someone with a particularly pronounced hatred for them... Well, I don’t advertise it.”
Jane looked down. “What made him get out? Had to spy on too many innocent people? Got ordered to commit one atrocity too many?”
“No. He lost an arm.” Jane said nothing, and Sadira continued. “It was during one of the last battles of the Republic-Imperiata war. There was this prison, called Gladius, that was one of the last holdouts of Imperiata resistance. His unit was sent in as an advance force, took some hits... He lost an arm.”
Jane bit back a retort of ‘serves him right’.
“They were a different organization back then, Jane.” Sadira said. “They were literally ‘tactical’-Special Forces units that were used for nuts that were particularly hard to crack. And a lot of his friends were already planning on leaving the service after the end of the war.”
“So in other words, no, I can’t trust you.” Jane spat, glaring at Sadira. Thank you for at least being honest about that.”
“I didn’t know why I thought I’d trust you.” Sadira said bitterly.
Jane ignored her. If she was going to be stuck with an informant for the rest of her enlistment, she didn’t have to be happy about it.