[Note: This Science Fiction story is an
intense character study
with occasional sex scenes.]
The Academy
It was a hot, sunny day in late July when Michael Tiberius Taylor arrived at the Academy in Pensacola, Florida. Pensacola had been the original base of operations for the American Survey Service before it had expanded operations at Kiawah Island in South Carolina and merged with the Australian Survey Service based at Auburn Field, in Perth, Australia. The United States territorial government had turned over an abandoned naval air base for the Survey Service to use in Pensacola. Originally the base was to have been located on a stretch of empty coastline twenty miles south of San Francisco, but environmentalists protested that the life style of a rare breed of omnisexual dung beetle would be disrupted if the base was built there, and so the Survey Service chose Pensacola, finding it a more accommodating locale.
Taylor checked in and was assigned a dormitory room. He was also assigned his cadet uniform, which was as white as an egg. This contrasted with the black, blue, and silver uniforms of Survey Service officers. He would spend three years earning his colors, as would the other cadets. At least, the ones who made it.
But still, Taylor felt some satisfaction as he looked at himself in his new uniform in the mirror. He had come this far. He had beaten all the odds. He would make it.
The Survey Service was notorious for getting large numbers of cadets to quit the Academy of their own accord. Technically, any cadet could be dropped from the Academy for any reason, but the Survey Service much preferred for cadets to quit on their own. The precise term was known as "RFD", or "Request for Dismissal". Approximately 70% of cadets RFD'd in the first year. Taylor resolved not to be one of those.
There was a get-to-know-you session for the new cadets in the mess hall. Taylor met some of his fellow cadets there. They all had very diverse backgrounds.
There was Joanna Martin, an Aussie, the niece of the largest film producer in the world, Elias Martin. She had a charming accent, and a lot of spirit. "It's good to have at least a few of us hear to teach yew yanks how to do things propar," she said.
"You're going to teach us?" said another cadet named John Cambell, a big blonde man who looked like a supermodel.
"Of coarse! Remembar that it was Australia which started the Survey Service in the furst place," said Joanna.
"But the American Survey Service was much bigger," said Cambell
"Size doesn't mattar mistar, if you get there furst," said Joanna, grinning.
The other cadets were also interesting. Taylor met a tall dark haired man named Bill Kenilworth. Both of Bill's parents were Survey Service officers, so naturally they expected him to be as well. But Bill just wanted to become a painter.
"A painter? Then what are you doing here?" Taylor asked.
"Just waiting to flunk out," said Bill cheerfully.
It never occurred to Taylor that someone would come to the Academy with the ambition to fail.
Another cadet was Ernie Maslarov, a self declared "genius", who was also in the program for unusual reasons. He had no particular interest in becoming a Survey Service officer; he just wanted to write a book about the experience.
Taylor got something to eat. Joanna Martin, the Aussie girl, sat down next to him. She had brown hair and a nice smile. "Have you met the othars yet?"
"No," said Taylor.
"Let me point out some of the moar... colorful ones to yew," said Joanna. "Over there is Mohammida Najjar. She's a follower of Laquinta, the God 'o Blood."
Taylor looked confused. "A follower of the God of Blood is joining the Survey Service?"
"I know, boggles the mind, don't it?" she grinned at him as she took a bite out of a pear. "Mohammida says she's a follower of reform Laqunitaism."
"Reform Laquintaism? I've never heard of that."
"Neither had I," said Joanna. "You know all that stuff in the Book 'o Blood 'bout beating your wimmen, and making them cover up in black sheets and stay at home cooking oll day and oll that?"
"Yes," said Taylor.
"Well, Mohammida says the Book O Blood had a few tiny transcription errors in it, and doesn't really mean that. She thinks the Book O Blood wants wimmen to be equal to men."
Taylor shuddered. "If she said those things on Ramada-"
"She's be skinned alive. Which is why she's hear."
Taylor looked at the unassuming brown skinned woman. A female follower of Laquinta, being out on her own like this? It was totally unheard of.
Joanna, her mouth full of food, kept talking. "And over there are the Ming's. One's Ming Wa Ching, and the othar's Ming Wa Chang. Can you tell them apart?"
Taylor looked over at the next table. There were two tall Chinese men sitting there, talking avidly to each other rapidfire in Chinese. "No."
"Don't feel bad, you aren't a racist. They're identical twins."
"Twins, not just twins, but identical twins, both let into the Academy?" Mike tried to wrap his head around the concept.
"Yeah. Well, makes a bit of sense, don't it? If one's qualified, the other's got to be too, right?" Joanna continued. "And over there is Natasha the spy."
Taylor saw a dark haired woman avidly talking to several other cadets. "A spy?"
"Natasha is from Russia. The word is she's a spy for the Russian Federation. The Russians have their own space program, remembar? The word is she's the eyes and ears of the Kremlin."
Taylor looked over at the dark haired beauty. True, it was unusual to hear of Russians applying for the Survey Service... but that didn't necessarily mean she was a spy.
"We have some tyme now. I was thinking of going to see the
Ganymede
. Would you lyke to check it out?" Joanna asked.
"Sure," said Taylor. "Let me just bus my tray." He took his tray to the return area. As he dropped it off, he almost bumped into-
"Allyson," said Taylor, feeling his pulse race.
"Michael," she said, putting a hand on his. "So nice to see you. You're looking... fit... in that white uniform."
"So are you," said Taylor. Truthfully, Allyson Harshbarger filled out her uniform quite well.
"So, we made it. We're here," said Allyson cheerfully.
"Yeah," said Taylor quietly.
"Listen. Mike." She squeezed his hand. "I realize we have some history together. But the past is the past. If I can put it aside, can't you?"
"This was the woman who put a holovid of you having sex on the school message board. This is the woman who most probably leaked your diary to everyone. At every chance she's gotten, she's tried to destroy you," said Anger. Behind him, Want Revenge nodded grimly.
"But we're at the Academy now. Things are different," said Restraint.
"He's right," said Ambition. "If we want to do well at the Academy, we can't hold on to grudges."
"Can't we just murder her when no one is looking, and dump the body somewhere?" Want Revenge asked.
"No," said Ambition firmly.
"How about a little flesh wound, maybe by accident, out at the shooting range? Who could object to that?" Want Revenge asked.
"No," said Ambition firmly. "I'm telling you, if we go after Allyson, we'll just be destroying ourselves. We don't have to be her friend. We just have to avoid hostilities."
"Sure, Allyson," said Mike calmly, pulling his hand away. He found himself breathing heavily as he returned to Joanna.
"Ready?" Joanna asked with a smile. "Let's goah!"
********
On the landing field there was a Survey Service destroyer, a cruiser, a battle cruiser, and a merchant ship. But the only one they had access to didn't fly; it was the very first Survey Service ship, the first ship to use the Varonkov FTL drive. The
Ganymede
had jumped for Alpha Centauri and, miraculously, had come back in one piece.
"Amazing," said Joanna, as they toured the antiquated bridge. "To think they flew in this thing. Look at all the push buttons. I've read that their computers were as big as my hand!"
"Did you see the cracks on the outside of the ship?" Taylor asked. "I heard that they developed on reentry. It's amazing they got back at all."
"It was inevitable," said a new voice.
Taylor turned to see a dark haired woman in a cadet's uniform. "Inevitable?" he said.
"The romanticized urge to travel inside of metallic canisters has long captured the human imagination."
"What?" said Taylor.
"Mike, meet Sophie Astor. Sophie, this is Mike Taylor. Sophie is a Passive Observer," said Joanna, giving Taylor a knowing look.
"Passive Observer?"
"You are very skilled at repeating words, Cadet Taylor," said Sophie, walking forward until she was face to face with Taylor. Sophie could have been beautiful, if she ever smiled. She had long dark hair. Her breasts were small but stuck out somehow on her small frame. But she had a very serious look on her face which drained all the beauty from her.
"What is a Passive Observer?" Mike asked.
Joanna cleared her throat. "A Passive Observer is-"
"You could answer the question, Joanna, or a person who is an actual Passive Observer could," said Sophie Astor. "Who do you think would give Cadet Taylor a more comprehensive answer?"
"By all means," said Joanna, sucking in her lips.
Sophie looked Mike squarely in the eye, and for some reason he found himself getting excited. "A Passive Observer is someone who observes every aspect of reality. Sight. Touch. Taste. Smell. Hearing. A Passive Observer analyzes all stimuli objectively. Dispassionately."
She looked at Taylor for a long moment, as if searching him with her eyes, as if expecting a response, as if she were testing him.
"It... it sounds like fun," said Taylor, not sure what else to say.
Sophie raised an eyebrow, snorted, and turned on her heel and walked off the bridge.
"What an odd person," said Taylor.
"She lykes yew," Joanna said.
"How can you possibly conclude that?" Taylor asked.
"When she stood five inches from yew, and looked at yew really close... I could tell."
They left the
Ganymede