Gateway 2 - Promotion

"Larsen!"

She turned. "Sarge?"

"Colonel Sadler wants to see you."

"Now?"

Sergeant Callaghan laughed. "Now, Larsen."

"On my way, Sarge." She made off in the direction of Sadler's office. Callaghan shook his head, staring after her. He grinned. Tough little bitch. That Tolian didn't know what he was tangling with.

In Sadler's outer office, his secretary, a corporal, looked up from her console. "Yes, Corporal?"

"Larsen. Sergeant Callaghan said the colonel wanted to see me."

The secretary smiled. "Yes, he does." She bent to her intercom, exchanged a few words, and then pointed to a door at the side. "Straight in. The colonel is waiting."

At the door, Larsen knocked with her good hand, waited for the call, and entered the colonel's office, closing the door behind her and drawing herself to attention before him. "Corporal Larsen, sir. You wanted to see me."

"Stand easy, Larsen. Take a seat. Um, how's the arm?"

She glanced down at the sling supporting her broken arm, then at the colonel. "Good, sir. Sickbay says it will be healed in two weeks. The sling is more to rest the arm than anything."

"Glad it's healing. It's no consolation to you, I know, but you were the only casualty in that raid. The IO thinks because your grav-chute failed you were half a klick or more off course by the time you landed, and that fooled the Tolians into checking the wrong area first for the raiding team."

"You mean I led them off the scent?"

"Exactly. But that's not why you're here. Before the raid, Captain Janizi had recommended you for promotion to sergeant. Lieutenant Alson and Sergeant Callaghan endorsed it." The colonel smiled. "Callaghan apparently said it was long overdue, although they aren't quite the words he used. As of now, Larsen, you are Sergeant Larsen." The colonel reached into a drawer and passed over a set of sergeant's stripes. "I wanted to do this personally. Mainly because I wanted to see how you were."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Physically, yes. Mentally? Sickbay says you've been having bad dreams."

"Yes, sir, I have, but not about the rape. About the 'grav-chute failure. The psych-training worked for the physical assault. Anyway, sir, I broke the bastard's neck!"

"The other reason you're here. You've been commended for that. Sirius Star. Your choice - a ceremony when we get back home, or an official award here. Whichever, you put the ribbon on your dress uniform now. Well?"

"Sir, my father and mother would love to be at a ceremony, but it's here where it matters, among the people who were involved, not strangers, or even family. Dad, of all people, will understand."

"As you wish." Sadler said nothing more, but Larsen knew she'd pleased him.

"Is that all, sir?"

"Almost, Sergeant. The ceremony will take place when you have two arms working, but there's one other thing, too."

"Sir?"

"You applied for flitter pilot training, and I'm pleased to tell you your application has been approved. You start in three days, on the fourteenth, and until then you have no official duties. Oh-eight-hundred. Report to Captain Moore in Hangar three." The colonel smiled. "The first part is theory, so you only need one arm to get started."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me, sergeant. You earned it. Dismissed."

"Aye, sir!"

In the outer office, she was about to leave when Sadler's secretary stopped her. "Sergeant Larsen?"

Larsen smiled to herself. This girl was on the ball! "Yes?"

"You'll need this." The secretary held out a little packet, clear, the contents easily visible, and Larsen could see the blue and white of the Sirius Star ribbon. "And congratulations."

"Thank you."

"The word is out that you deserve it." The secretary smiled. "Word sometimes reaches even here."

Larsen shrugged. "Just carrying out my duty."

"It's funny. I spent some time going over records when I was posted here, because the colonel was on leave and I had very little work on."

"And?"

"I made an interesting discovery. Those personnel who carried out their duty seem to be the ones who succeed."

"Oh. Well, yes, I guess." Larsen cocked her head. "May I ask a personal question?"

"Why am I a secretary?"

Larsen flushed. "Um, yes."

The other woman gave her a level look. "I wasn't quite as lucky as you. I got both feet blown off at Laerte. I need to get back to Terra IV for regrowth implants. They're supposed to be ready next month." She shrugged. "In the meantime it's prosthetics, and I don't run as fast as I could. Anyway, me doing this frees up an able-bodied grunt."

Larsen gave the secretary a wry look. "I did it again. Opened my mouth and put both feet in."

The secretary laughed. "Not quite."

"Do you have a name?"

Surprised, the secretary took a moment to answer, but she answered readily. "Of course. Janet Perrault."

"Well, Janet Perrault, off duty I'm Karen. I'll be in the commissary from nineteen hundred, for a couple of hours. I'd like to buy you a drink."

"Any particular reason?"

"Two. One, a little guilt for being so insensitive. Two, I recognise the name, and I remember Laerte." About to go on, Larsen paused when Perrault held up her hand.

"Stop right there. Yes, I'd love to have a drink, but only if I can buy you one back. About twenty-hundred, if that's okay? I don't finish here until nineteen hundred and I'd like to eat first."

"That's fine. See you then, Janet."

"See you then, Karen."

Larsen let herself out of the office and headed for her quarters. A thought struck her. As sergeant, she now qualified for a cabin of her own. She grinned. Cupboard, or cubicle, would be a better description, but at least she'd have a door to close behind her.

In non-com territory, she found Callaghan doing some paperwork. "Sarge?"

Callaghan grinned. "Yes, Sergeant?"

"Yeah, right. Mike, I want to thank you."

"For endorsing your promotion? Long overdue, Karen, long overdue. You earned it a dozen times, and I'm very pleased to see it happen."

"Thanks, Mike. Commissary from nineteen-hundred? I'm buying."

"In that case, yes. Do I pass the word?"

"Please. Would Captain Janizi come?"

"Why don't you ask her? She's standing behind you." Callaghan grinned as Larsen flushed and turned. The lean redhead behind her smiled as Larsen came to attention.

"Easy, Larsen. Congratulations, Sergeant, both on your promotion and your Sirius Star."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"And just where is it you're inviting me to come?"

"Commissary, from nineteen hundred. I'm buying."

Janizi nodded. "I'll stop by, sure, but I won't stay long. I don't want to cramp your style," she added with a smile. She turned to Callaghan. "Is the report on the re-organisation ready yet?"

"On your desk, Captain."

"Thanks. See you later, sergeants." She went out.

Larsen looked at Callaghan. "Re-organisation?"

"Not your concern, Sergeant. You're being transferred."

"Take that idea and stuff it where the sun don't shine, Mike. Tell!"

"We need someone to replace you, so Ewen gets her stripes."

"Great! Sally's good."

"Which is why she gets them. Apart from that, a couple of inter-squad transfers, and I take the replacement grunt in my squad. Two actually, as each of the four squads is getting extra personnel."

"We finally move up to twelve?"

"

We

do. You're moving on, remember? But yes, twelve, so we can finally work the buddy system properly. Three groups of four, in pairs, so everyone has another to watch their back."

Larsen grinned. "Not before time, Mike. Maybe I'll get to fly you in somewhere."

Callaghan grinned, then his smile faded. "Can't think of anyone I'd rather have do it. Make us proud, Karen."

"Do my best, Mike. You have my word on it."

The evening was enjoyable, with genuine good wishes from the others in Captain Janizi's command group. Janizi stopped by, accepted a drink from Karen, bought everyone in the squads a drink, and was careful not to outstay her welcome, leaving shortly after twenty-hundred, just as Janet Perrault limped in, leaning on a stick, looking around for Karen, who stood and waved. Perrault nodded and made her way across.

Callaghan was next to Larsen at that moment, and turned to her. "You invited Perrault?"

"Yep."

"I'm glad," the big sergeant said quietly. "She's had a rough time."

As Perrault limped across to join them, Callaghan stood, waiting, then, as Perrault moved into the group, Callaghan drew himself to attention and saluted the startled secretary.

"You honour us, Corporal Perrault."

Perrault stared at him for a moment, then grinned. "Bullshit, Sergeant, absolute bullshit."

Callaghan grinned back at her. "If you say so."

"I do."

Larsen touched her arm. "Drink?"

"Just a beer, please, Karen."

"Coming up." Hmm, interesting. Definite electricity between Callaghan and Perrault. Don't meddle, Karen, it's their business.

It was almost midnight when she finally tottered off to bed, only slightly drunk. She knew that a cabin would be ready for her the following day. She knew, too, that she wouldn't need the privacy for anything intimate, as Andy Bennet had told her, somewhat shame-faced, that he felt intimidated by her being a sergeant. It was only an excuse and they both knew it, but their quick affair had cooled and it was a face-saver for both of them.

In her bunk in the room she shared with two other squad corporals, she lay back. Three days free! She gave a wry smile. Best read up on flitters.

* * * * *

Captain Moore was an untidy bear of a man, his uniform always seeming rumpled, a perpetual sour look on his face. He regarded her, unsmiling, hands on hips, for a long moment when she reported to him.

"So you want to be a flitter pilot, Larsen?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"God knows why, so I won't bother asking you. Okay, name the three alternative propulsion systems used in Navy flitters."

Yes! Reading up was a Good Idea, Karen. "Sir, the basic Mk2G flitter uses a liquid fuel system..."

Moore stopped her pretty soon after that, a slightly less sour look on his face. "Been reading up on it, Larsen?"

"Yes, sir. I had three days free, a cabin to myself, and an arm I'm not supposed to use fully yet," she said, lifting her arm in its sling. "Reading seemed the best thing to do."

"Reading won't make you a pilot, but intelligence and initiative go a long way to help. Colonel Sadler tells me you're the youngest combat sergeant in the fleet. Did you know that?"

"No, sir!" she said, unable to conceal her surprise.

"I thought not. Well, you are, so there. It helps to be young if you're a pilot. Ever had sub-lim teaching?"

"Psych-training, sir, that's all."

"Positive result?"

"Yes, sir. When the Tolian officer raped me, I was too busy working out ways to change the situation to worry about it being a rape." A fleeting grin crossed her face. "I think it annoyed him."

Moore tried not to smile. "Not as much as breaking his neck would."

She fought a giggle. "No, sir, I guess not."

"We have a simulator here in the hangar, the pilot deck of an actual 4C. The controls of the 2G, the 3B and the 4C are pretty much identical, which means you pilots can switch from one to another easily, and the 4C deck can be re-programmed to be one of the others. There are some minor control differences, not enough to be significant. I want you to go play with the 4C for the rest of the day. Chow is twelve hundred to thirteen hundred, and you can take ten minutes every hour for a drink or comfort break. I'll trust you to have the intelligence not to overuse your injured arm. Two other trainees join us tomorrow. They're being transferred from one of the cruisers. After they arrive time on the simulator will be on a rota. You're the only trainee from the

Andromeda

this time around and frankly, I want you to do well, but today will be your only chance to get any advantage, and I'm only doing it because of your arm. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me," said Moore, his perpetual miserable look returning. He looked her in the eye. "Do well, Larsen. Do it for the

Andy

. Okay?"

She smiled. "Aye, aye, sir!"

"Get that smirk off your face, and get into the simulator. You

should

fasten the harness, but the initial stuff is trivial, so don't bother. Plenty of time for that when you have two arms to use."

The next two months passed in a blur for her. The other trainees were both men, both junior lieutenants, and both slightly contemptuous of a mere sergeant, and a young, female sergeant at that, who had the temerity to train as a flitter pilot. That was at first. After she outperformed them in the initial tests the contempt turned to irritation. When she continued to outperform them the irritation became annoyance, even anger, but in Lieutenant JG Peter Mackay the annoyance was directed at himself, not Larsen. The same couldn't be said for his fellow

Betelgeuse

officer André Ducalse whose annoyance and anger was directed anywhere but at himself. At Larsen, at Moore, at the flitters, even at Mackay. He seemed incapable of accepting that he wasn't the best. After one exercise, Mackay came over to Larsen.

"Sergeant? May I have a few minutes of your time?"

"May I ask why, sir?"

"So that you can tell me how in hell you got that flitter to stop so fast and so precisely on the target area, that's what."

"Let me get this straight, sir. You, an officer, are asking me, a mere sergeant, and female at that, how I performed a manoeuvre that you performed perfectly adequately yourself. Is that it, sir?"

Mackay nodded, giving her a wry grin. "Exactly so, Sergeant Larsen. I want to improve my own performance, and as you seem to be the best of the three of us at what we're doing, it seemed best to ask you. So? Your sarcasm is apt, and earned, but I do learn eventually."

Larsen grinned. "Buy me a coffee, sir, and I'll tell you how I do it."

"A coffee? That's your price?"

She nodded. "A coffee."

"Bullshit, sergeant. The coffee's free, so what is your real price?"

She regarded him solemnly for a long moment, then drew a breath. "Within the limits of rank, and sex, treat me as a trainee flitter pilot like yourself, and not as a piece of lizard shit you happened to step in."

Mackay flushed. "Ouch. Is that what I've been doing?" She held his gaze, saying nothing, and after a moment Mackay nodded. "I've been working with Ducalse too long. His attitude rubs off. Sergeant Larsen, I apologise, unreservedly, and I promise, from now on, to do exactly as you request. Okay?"

She smiled. "Okay."

"Well, allow me to fetch you a coffee, Sergeant, and then will you tell me your flitter-landing secret?"

"Yes, sir!"

From then on, the relationship between Larsen and Mackay was one of mutual respect, a situation baffling to Ducalse who seemed mentally unable to accept his constant third place in any performance targets the trainees were set. Matters began to come to a head when, in one of the final exercises, Larsen's flitter responded sluggishly to the controls. Not a lot, but enough to give her third in the exercise to Mackay's second and Ducalse. Back in the hangar, Mackay looked across, eyebrows raised in query. She shrugged and he turned away to follow a beaming Ducalse to their quarters to change out of the flight suits. Larsen watched them go and then went back to her flitter.

Corporal Tanaka, a grizzled veteran, was her service crew chief and was about to commence refuelling operations on the flitter Larsen had been using.

"Corporal Tanaka?"

"Sergeant?"

"Joe, that flitter flew like a pregnant brick today."

Tanaka's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, Karen?"

"I'm asking, Joe. Was it sabotaged?" She shrugged. "Not enough to damage anything, just to slow it?"

Tanaka stared at her for a long moment. "I'll find out," he said at last.

"Thanks, Joe. I owe you one."

Tanaka grinned. "Just keep beating Ducalse, Karen, and consider it repaid."

She smiled back at the crew chief. "Do my best. Joe. Check Mackay's too, please? And Ducalse's?" The crew chief gave her a slow smile.

"Consider it done."

"Thanks, Joe."

She was surprised, later that afternoon, to be told by Captain Moore that Colonel Sadler had requested her attendance in his office after they had finished for the day.

"Do you know why, sir?"

Moore nodded. "I do, Sergeant, but it's not for me to say." He gave her one of his rare smiles. "You don't need to worry, I can say that much."

"Thank you, sir. Are we finished here?"

"We are, Sergeant, so don't keep the colonel waiting."

It had been a while since she'd been near Sadler's office and she was surprised to see a different secretary, an older private, bespectacled, almost motherly. She looked up at Larsen's entry.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Larsen. The colonel wants to see me."

"Yes, he does. Just a second."

"Before you buzz through, can I ask what happened to Perrault?"

The secretary smiled. "She went back to Terra IV on medical grounds. Her new feet were ready. She should be back here on duty soon."

"Here?"

The woman shook her head. "I meant on the

Andy

. Not here, it's a permanent post for me now."

"Like it?"

The woman nodded. "I do. My eyes aren't up to combat or permanent screen work, radar and the like, but an office I can manage no problem. And the colonel's a good boss."

"Glad to hear it. Buzz me in now, please?"

"Sure thing, Sergeant."

In his office, the colonel smiled to see her. "Easy, Larsen. Take a seat. Captain Moore tells me you're a natural as a flitter pilot."

"That's very kind of him, sir."

The colonel gave her a wry smile. "You may have noticed, Sergeant. Captain Moore does not offer praise lightly," he said in a droll tone.

Larsen fought a grin. "I had noticed, sir."

"I thought you might. Larsen, we're setting up a new experimental strike team. Two flitter pilots are needed, and I don't want to take existing team pilots out for what might be a failure. I mean only as an idea, and not the individual, by the way. I discussed this with Captain Moore and he recommended you instantly, so consider yourself in."

"Thank you, sir!" She paused. "May I ask who the other pilot will be, sir?"

"Of course. The other pilot will be Lieutenant Mackay. Any problems with that?"

"No, sir, none."

"Lieutenant Ducalse is senior to Mackay, but for reasons I will not go into, Ducalse is being transferred back to his cruiser as flitter pilot." The colonel gazed at her for a moment. "There is one other thing, Larsen."

"Sir?"

"Forgive me if I digress for a moment. As a sergeant, you're junior. Not the absolute junior, although you're pretty low in the pecking order, but none of the non-coms I've spoken to has anything but respect for you. No, don't say anything for the moment. Were you an officer, you'd be the most junior lieutenant in the fleet at the moment. Not the youngest, but definitely least seniority. The experimental strike team we're designing requires that the flitter pilots are officers, as they may be required to make command decisions involving the strike team they're carrying. Some squad officers might object to a sergeant telling them what to do. With me so far?"

"Yes, sir," she said, wondering where the colonel was leading.

"A flitter pilot who is an officer has absolute authority in anything related to the flying or landing of the flitter, and can overrule even a chicken colonel like me. Larsen, when you qualify as a flitter pilot, and Captain Moore tells me it is a nod through, on the day you get your wings you will also be promoted to lieutenant, junior grade."

She just sat for a moment, astonished, and Sadler frowned. "You okay, sergeant?"

"Sorry, sir. I'm fine, just a little surprised, sir."

"Understandable. Say nothing to anyone, as yet. There are still some formalities to consider."