Ace in the Hole

1          A blonde boy, bright blue eyes wide with an odd mixture of fear and anticipation, walked uncertainly into a large, poorly maintained building. It is the Federated Planet’s Terran headquarters in Terra Prime. Before the almost-century-old conflict between humanity and the fearsome Santeen Empire, the metropolis had been known as New York City. The boy, a slender youth, tall for his ten years could almost feel the age of the building and the weight of its’ involvement in the most momentous events in history, pressing down on his shoulders. He walked through the huge garishly decorated double doors feeling a daunting sense of responsibility. Not quite as awkward as his pre-pubescent chums in school, he felt clumsy nonetheless and completely out of place in the cavernous main hall of the center for interplanetary affairs (a euphemism, as there had been no interplanetary affairs since the conflict had begun). The boy didn’t know why he was so agitated, but there was something strange about this whole situation. It was as if he was being tested again, but he couldn’t imagine what the test was. He decided he was in for a long wait when he saw the two lines of people waiting for admittance to the twin doorways at the far end of the hall. He walked to the end of the long line on the right, designated “campers.” The shorter line on the left was similarly signed “guides.”
         The summons to attend the campers’ annual awards ceremony had arrived the previous day. It was as much of a surprise as the mandatory camping trips had been when he was instructed to attend over a year and a half ago. Strangely, the monthly trips had made sense to his father at the time. He wouldn’t say why, just that it made sense to him.  Almost all types of recreation for amusement had been pretty much lost in the years of conflict. No one would think about wasting time or effort on such frivolous activity while there was so much to do in the struggle against the Bugs. The annual awards ceremony was equally surprising. He had been attending the trips for well over eighteen months and had never heard of any previous annual ceremonies. The summons had arrived during the afternoon and his father had shown it to him at supper. Because the ceremony had been scheduled for the next morning, he had not had a chance to check with any of his friends at class. He now looked down along the line in front of him to see if he could make out the face of one of his chums. Of the twenty or so faces he could distinguish, he saw no one familiar. That was not so unusual in this organization though, he could never figure out how they determined which individual campers were picked for any of the events that were set up. He knew of several boys, who had never been instructed to attend the camping trips at all.
         The same was true for the wilderness homemaking seminars that were started for the young girls at about the same time as the camping trips began. Some of the girls were just never instructed to attend. Shortly after his third trip, the boy’s father told him the trips were very important. He should always strive to achieve the toughest goals attainable and learn everything the guides could cram into his head. When he questioned why he would need to learn so much stuff that he would hardly ever use, his father simply replied, “You will understand it all soon enough. For now, just don’t question the trips and do your very best.”
         The trips themselves were more like school than camping trips with coursework assigned in sailing, celestial navigation, geology, metallurgy, medicine, philosophy, physics and agriculture. The exercises were not exactly what you might consider standard camping fare either. Long sessions under water were devoted to working with heavy materials, assembling and using complex communications installations. These exercises were useless now, of course, since the Santeen were always jamming any kind of wireless communications; and wire-fed transmissions were strictly controlled by the armed forces.
         The boy emerged from his daydreaming just as a man at a table near the right doorway signaled for him to step up. He was more than a little embarrassed to discover that the line had moved all the way to the front, while he was sleeping on his feet. Nevertheless, he stepped right up to the table, handed the man his papers and said, “Camper 1st Class Harley Davidson reporting sir.”

2               During the waning hours of the 30TH century, the revelers and the doomsayers congregated in almost every public open space in the metropolitan area, known as “TIME SQUARE.” The first group was noisily celebrating the approach of the New Year, as well as the New Millennium, while the latter group was equally noisy propounding the apocalyptic end of the world of men.
         The lights of the city turned the darkness of night into a garish sort of daylight, reminiscent of the carnivals and county fairs of the previous millennium. The street traffic and airways surrounding the square demonstrated however, that the current residents had mostly forgotten the celebrations and social functionality of that idealistic ancestry. There was no friendly interaction between the throngs of humanity crowded into the antiseptic streets and walkways. The fear and distrust was unmistakable, making the celebration seem forced and unreal. The World Regulating Agency’s plan, for the long awaited departure of the Visitor was the sole reason for the unusual gathering at the center of the cities’ infamous entertainment district. Initiated by Terra, Mars and the United Consortium for Asteroid Mining (UCAM), the combined peoples and resources of the three major powers in the solar system had been working in a most unusual atmosphere of cooperation and amenability for twenty-two years. This strange aggregate of partners had been empowered to complete the construction, supply and population of the great interstellar starship that now circled the planet. Its current orbit would bring its brilliantly lit lower surface into view of the excited horde of humanity below at precisely midnight. The departure of the greatest mission in the short history of the combined peoples was scheduled for 12:01 a.m. The light show the maneuvering thrusters and the sub-light engines promised was the prime motivation for the mixed crowd of rabble and elite, optimists and skeptics. They gathered together, standing side by side, where they would never have elected to be in the same company under normal circumstances.  The colonists, technicians and scientists with the latest technology of the time were departing on a thirty-six year journey to the Effrates star system.

3           The occupants of the orbiting city would act as interstellar ambassadors. An advance party to the, as yet unknown, species of intelligence that had been discovered twenty-two years prior, via the unlikely, almost forgotten technology of their ancestors.
          This was accomplished in a lost study of the radio frequency signals received from the vast reaches of space. “The Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence” (SETI) had continued its centuries-long efforts decoding and decrypting the numerous signals it received even after the organization was disbanded. Long after the adoption of hyper comm technology had rendered the use of slower-than-light radio frequency waves obsolete, the search continued. The old self-maintaining equipment that was discovered in the collapsed ruins of a long-buried research facility held the key. Hidden deep in the wilderness of the western hemisphere, in the Rocky mountain range, the facility continued to report its findings to an antiquated printing machine. The facility continued its’ monotonous task of interpreting the incoming data until the backup systems failed and none of the fail-safe devices were left to take over. Then the equipment finally rested, alone and patient, awaiting re-discovery and a chance to announce its’ exciting news.                                                                                                                              A man and a boy, trying to capture the feeling of the explorers and the pioneers who suffused the history of the land, stumbled into a collapsed shaft by accident. Not being familiar with the ancient computer language used by the machinery, they reported the find to a wilderness patrol and went home.
Their discovery might have gone unheeded except for the single line of script at the top of the printed report. The patrol officer checked his database in an effort to identify the facility after inspecting the collapsed shaft and securing the area. He had brought back a handful of papers from the out tray on the printing machine. When the only mention he could find in his histories was the SETI project, he was ready to file the papers in the recycler. Walking to the slot in the office wall, the single line of script caught his attention and stopped him dead in his tracks.
The line read “FIRST REPORT OF CONTACT”. The impact of this simple phrase hit him like an electric shock. Once he recovered sufficiently to think clearly he contacted the local university history department. Three days later the news was spreading across the globe like a prairie fire in a high wind.                                                                                                                                  An intelligent entity was sending signals, inviting contact and the          opportunity to meet and share the wonders of the galaxy. Why they might just be able to find the source of the signal and make contact now. Just the thought of meeting other forms of life was the most exciting thing since the idea of colonizing the Red planet had been conceived. The message was translated and interpreted as friendly.                                                                                                                              The intelligence was requesting contact with other civilizations to share knowledge and customs. An immediate effort was made to re-establish the ancient communications systems that received the original signal. After a short time the decision was made to plan an expedition to the co-ordinates in the message. The Effrates star system was identified as the source of the message.                                                                                                                                                                                                                          4      After colonizing Mars and establishing the mining operations in the asteroid belt, the exploration of the heavens had been stalled. Now for the first time in many years there was renewed excitement to once again explore new territory and even more, to meet another form of intelligence Soon, the entire inhabited solar system was buzzing with the news So it was, that the most costly, ambitious venture of the race of man was embarked upon. And it gained a huge following, not only at home, but also in the other outposts man had claimed as his to reign over, throughout the solar system.
        The mighty engines of the AIs, that planned and implemented the existence of the peoples of Terra and other occupied regions of the solar system, put a large portion of their unoccupied data processing resources to work planning “THE BIG JUMP,” as it soon came to be known. Provisions, supplies, machinery, a list of the occupations, specialists and abilities needed to produce the inventory and the starcraft was put together.  A list of the inventory, personnel and procedures involved in making “THE JUMP,” was compiled, and then debated with the public for months. After thoroughly beating the subject to death in every conceivable forum, it was determined that with only a few minor changes (having to do with creature comforts in ship design plus some token concessions to tradition), the original plan of the combined world and industry AIs was the most comprehensive and workable plan available. So it came to be, twenty-two years after the discovery of the faded printout, the throngs gathered in Time Square.  They oohed and ahhed, some with remorse at the huge folly of mankind on this morn of the new millennium, others in awe at the magnificent display overhead. As the appointed time past, the crowning achievement of two planets’ and the largest single business enterprise in existence, lighted the heavens. An aural display of color and brilliance, as had never before been observed by the inhabitants of this solar system was visible for hundreds of miles.
        The display, breathtaking as it was, lasted only minutes before the ambient light in the square overcame the shrinking object the way the yard lights of a rural home will obscure the tail of a great comet on a clear night. But the crowd in the square did not distinguish the disappearance of the starship, from the lights appearing overhead. They did not understand that these were not the friendly beacons of the departing fifty-two thousand souls of the JUMP. Many of the people watching the sky wondered, to themselves at first, then aloud to their companions, whether the ship was actually departing at all as the great circle of lights grew larger and larger overhead.
         In a moment of terrible understanding, the same thought occurred to the many of the watchers. Something had gone wrong aboard the great ship. It was now crashing down on top of the city.  The people, who had spent the last twenty-two years devoting their hearts and souls to the project, were now to be crushed for the effort.
         Panic erupted as the crowd tried to push, heave and crawl over each other in an insane effort to get out of the path of the behemoth’s descent. Only a few of the onlookers recognized that the shape, now descending upon them, did not really look like the familiar sight of the Visitor. Thus, only a handful of the watchers realized what was happening when a pencil thin shaft of green light pierced the night sky. Running from the craft, somewhat easterly, it disappeared behind the buildings, obscuring the horizon. The shaft of light lasted only an instant. After it disappeared, the whole of the eastern horizon was glowing as brightly as if the noonday sun were lighting the entire hemisphere. The panic continued and thousands of people lost their lives in the ensuing crush to escape what most believed to be the product of their ill-advised labors.
5           The people who stayed inside to watch the spectacle on their tri-dees were the first to realize what was actually happening as their view screens abruptly switched, from the view of the panic in the square, to a panoramic scene of the city, as if shot from high above. The green shaft of light was observed as if it were emanating from the camera shooting the scene. It lanced down and away from the lens. As the light made contact with the surface below, the camera zoomed in tight to portray a full-screen view of the ancient statue in the harbor. In one instant the statue, standing gracefully as it had for more than a thousand years, erupted in a brilliant white flash. Where the statue of liberty had so proudly held her torch high above the harbor only a thin cloud of haze hung in the air over the charred and blackened island. This was the only presence left to attest to the one-time presence of Lady Liberty.
         The next moment, the image on the viewers changed to that of a large green face. Oversize multifaceted eyes spaced widely apart over a set of horizontal pincers dominated the face. Covering what appeared to be an open maw the pincers worked back and forth slowly and in unison. The voice that emanated from the image did not seem to be connected to the unmoving mouth, but the message, relayed in one language after another, could not have been misinterpreted.
          “Inhabitants of the planet Terra, we, the warriors of the Santeen Empire, hereby claim possession of this world -- all of its inhabitants and their possessions. We demand total submission to our rule as the birthright of our existence. We will tolerate no interference. You will be granted ten Terran days to prepare for our landing, that you may honor us upon our arrival as befits the occasion of the arrival of the masters of the universe and conquerors of the lesser races. Any puny resistance, such as you might muster, will be squashed without effort and may lead to the annihilation of your kind. We wish to display our munificence to the lesser races by allowing your continued existence on our new world. We expect you to rejoice in your new roles in service to the Santeen Empire. We will accept your total capitulation upon landing. Now, go and prepare to welcome your Masters!”
         The ensuing chaos took several days to die down. Communication with the people was jammed from orbit. The government, of course, was much quicker to respond to the threat and wasted no time initiating plans for resistance to the alien invasion.

6          The Santeen were, of course, technically advanced well beyond the degree humanity had progressed in its short reign on Terra. The power of the invaders’ energy weapons was, undoubtedly, far greater than anything the Terrans could defend against.  However, the indomitable spirit of the human race would not, could not accept defeat without putting up a fight. Thus, when the Santeen craft descended on the major cities of the world, the armed forces of the human race were thrown, with gusto, at the invading enemy.
         Two unforeseen and highly improbable occurrences combined on this day to assist the human forces, else all would have been lost and the rise of human civilization would have been a small footnote in galactic history. The first and more easily believable of the two was the fact the Santeen, an insect life form, evolved on a smaller world than Terra, which carried only thirty percent of a standard Terran gravity. This made the deployment of ground forces by the invaders very difficult, because the aliens were not used to maneuvering at more than three times their normal weight. Furthermore, their equipment and supplies also increased in weight by the same proportion. After the second attempt to land troops and deploy weapons, the Santeen cut their losses in this form of attack, and determined to force submission of the peoples by use of surgical air strikes. The idea of eliminating the enemy by destroying everything on the surface of the planet was dismissed as too wasteful. The Santeen would profit little, other than whatever natural resources were left on the planet, after total annihilation of the surface life forms. Besides, they needed the inhabitants of this world to serve and worship them, for after all, what was the use of being gods without supplicants.
         The second and most valuable occurrence was the discovery that, for all the power and destructive ability of the energy weapons, the shielding providing defense to the Santeen ships was designed specifically to keep the destructive power of the enemies’ energy weapons from damaging the hulls and control systems of their fleet. During the first minutes of the offensive mounted by the Terran forces, it was discovered that the enemy shields had no effect on the archaic projectile weapons used by the jet fighters and ground-based artillery.                                                                                     Also, the Santeen were forced to enter the atmosphere of the planet for their energy weapons to be used at an effective range for surgical precision. Once again, the heavy gravity of Terra worked against their machines and crews. So, invasion of the Santeen continued for almost one hundred years, off and on, because the aliens refused to be deterred by such an impudent, backward race of obviously inferior beings. The Santeen commander could have, at any time in those hundred journeys around this yellow sun, given the order to exterminate all life on the planet, and done so, from the relative safety of orbit. But as stubborn as the populace of this planet had proved, he could see no way of retreating from his original objective, without embarrassing himself in the eyes of his people. After all, a race of primitives like those below, however tenacious they were in continuing this foolish resistance could not hold out forever. Could they?
For the most part, the Santeen went about their business terrorizing the galaxy and conquering lesser enemies, but they left a small force to watch over the planet. These warriors lived aboard the single battle cruiser that harried any important planet side activity, jamming communications systems and conducting regular raids on military targets. The commander returned every few years to check on the progress of the operation or to deliver some new weapons system. It seemed the war was not a high priority to the Santeen, at least to the observers and tacticians on the ground.
         The Santeen, on the other hand, took the resistance of the Terrans very seriously. They were a long-lived species, accustomed to viewing everything in a different light than the puny creatures below.  This population of barbaric humans lived out their entire lives in the same period that the Santeen were just beginning to reach maturity. Indeed, the span of a century (Terran time) was considered a short time to be involved in such a conflict. The commander had no doubt the war would be won long before he was ready to return to his hivehome and finish his useful life, as fodder for his descendant larvae. As it was, he was only just reaching middle age in terms of Santeen physiology.  He had already surpassed seventeen of the enemy’s full life spans.
                                                                       
7             The man in the white lab coat took Harley down a long hallway lined with sets of doors on each side. The doors were set about three meters apart with 10 meters between sets. There were three sets on each side before the hallway opened into the atrium. To Harley, this room was the nicest place in all of Terra Prime. At least, it was the nicest place he had ever seen during his infrequent trips to town. He had seen the atrium once before, when his class had come to see the planetarium show put on against the transparent aluminum ceiling of the room.
         The cylindrical room was fully four stories high, below the globe of the half-sphere ceiling. Harley and his guide entered at the top level, below the dome. Alloys used in the construction of the dome allowed the transparent structure to damp out the ambient light, until it became black as the darkest night. Stars, as well as planets, moons, asteroids, black holes, comets, galaxies, nebula, novae, supernovae and wormholes, could be depicted via holographic lasers.
         The walls just below floor level would slide open, and a floor, full of reclining seats, slid across the three-story drop, when they were giving a planetarium show. But the dome was clear today. The floor was well hidden behind the wall. As Harley followed his guide along the walkway encircling the outer walls, he could see all the way to the bottom floor. The walls below the walkway, at least as far as Harley could see before they were lost under the tread way he was walking on, were filled with growing plant life.  Behind transparent aluminum encasements, the plants were full of birds and snakes and every manner of lizard, salamander and insect. The floor at the bottom was cluttered with displays of forest, desert and mountain wildlife. Harley’s guide was saying, “If you think this is impressive, you should see the aquariums underneath.” Then they boarded an elevator, and descended to the floor level.
         When Harley walked out at the bottom and looked up, he couldn’t help feeling a little vertigo, as the walls and plants grew out from the side, seeming to engulf him in a huge jungle. The guide hurried him through the maze of pathways through the exhibits and to another elevator. They entered, and Harley looked at the control panel to see if the aquarium was marked. He was amazed to see a panel with numbers marked from LL to 66.          Seeing the shock on Harley’s face, the man smiled slightly, as though used to this reaction.  He said, “It’s not generally known, but yes, there are 66 levels below the atrium.” He punched the number pad for the 24th level and said, “Some say there are even deeper levels, but I’ve never talked to anyone who has actually seen them.”
         They arrived quickly and exited the elevator car, but his guide stopped at the doorway and said, “Just go to the first door on your left and tell the lady at the desk you are here for code yellow finalization. Good luck, boy, I’ll see you around.” He was gone before Harley could even think to ask about the aquarium. Oh well, maybe I’ll have some time after the ceremony, he thought to himself.
         He walked straight to the doorway, entered and stopped at the desk.  He noticed about two-dozen kids, both boys and girls, seated behind the lady at the desk in a lobby.
         “Hello, ma’am. I’m Camper 1st Class Harley Davidson. The guide said I was supposed to tell you I’m here for code yellow finalization. I’m supposed to be here for the annual camper awards ceremony.” The petite blonde, seated behind the desk, smiled as nice a smile as he’d seen since he left home that morning. She said, “Well, Harley, I guess this could be the biggest, and best awards ceremony put on around here in a long time.” She stood, took his summons, and told him to have a seat with the other campers until the last camper arrived.
          Harley felt even more confused as he found a seat and looked around. He found a seat with a good view of the room, but still didn’t recognize any of the kids. A tall, dark-haired man, standing about as straight as any lodgepole pine in the Yellowstone camp, and just about as stiff, entered through a doorway facing the lobby area from the back of the room. He strode purposefully to the blonde at the desk.
         As he spoke with her, a curly haired brunette in a lab coat, entered from the door where Harley had entered, accompanied by a slender blonde youth. Harley was sure he knew this lad from at least one camping trip. That was the trip when they lived underwater for five days, but he only had a short glimpse of the boy at the end of the week, because they were in deep-water gear the whole time.
         The boy checked in at the desk and the blonde got up again. This time she escorted the boy to the lobby and announced that the tall man was Cdr. Ephraim Washington of the Terran Defense Marine Force. Well, that explained the stiff demeanor, but why wasn’t he wearing a uniform?
          “Alright, campers, please follow me to the central reception hall. Follow in single file, and don’t wander off. Now, let’s go.” They followed him out of the room the way he came in. Although now, Harley was pretty sure there weren’t going to be any campers receiving awards at this function. It seemed more like being led off to the dungeons than to a camper party. 
         

8           They arrived in a large auditorium filled with theater-style seating.  The entire first two rows of the left-hand side were already filled with kids.  The commander was gesturing for Harley’s group to fill in the front rows at the right side. There were two men and an older woman seated on folding chairs on the stage area. These three sat with a bearing indicating a military background. As Harley and his new companions sat down, he thought, maybe now we will get some kind of an explanation. 
         The commander ascended the short stairway to the stage and took a position behind a small podium. He began by welcoming the campers to the facility, and then gestured to the people seated behind him. “For the next hour or so, you will be addressed by the people who are behind the camping and homemakers programs you have all participated in for the past year and a half. At this time, I would like to introduce Capt. Louise O’Hanlon, supply and procedural officer in charge of living arrangements, both on base and in the field, for the marine forces of Terra. Capt. O’Hanlon has also been in charge of the setup and provisioning of the camp sites you have enjoyed during your training exercises.”
          The middle-aged woman with graying brown hair stood to accept the short round of obligatory applause. She was a pleasant looking woman, in her mid-fifties, dressed in a beige business suit that would have been at home in the classroom or a corporate boardroom. But somehow, the way she stood stiffly at attention belied these occupations.  Her face implied she was as uncomfortable in these civilian accouterments as they would have looked out of place in the war room.
         As the applause died down, she returned to her chair. The commander introduced the two young men seated beside her: Lance Cpl. Daniel Boxer, physical-conditioning instructor, formerly assigned to the Marine Ground Forces Division of the Terran Marines, now assigned to oversee the physical training of the Terran Marines 1st Elite Camper Division; and Master Sgt. Miguel Rodriguez, Terran military historian and linguistics expert. The two men stood simultaneously, accepted their applause, and resumed their seated positions.
         Cpl. Boxer, a dark-haired youthful-looking man, wearing old-fashioned eyeglasses unknown since the perfection of corrective surgery, produced a huge grin as he assessed the confused expressions of the children seated in the auditorium. The historian, on the other hand, wore an expression of faraway dreams, as though he were already composing the pages of history future generations of recruits would study. To most observers, the stout, compactly muscled image of the master sergeant’s weathered countenance, seemed to carry much more knowledge and weight of responsibility than his thirty-two years would account for.
         The Terran Marines 1st Elite Camper Division! What in the name of the heavens was the commander talking about? For the first time today, Harley felt as though he was about to receive some long-awaited answers to his growing list of questions, rather than simply more additions to the list. By now, most of the normally well-behaved, respectful children were murmuring and buzzing with whispered conversations.  Its accumulated effect was loud enough to drown out even the commander’s efforts to quiet the room. He rapped a wooden gavel sharply on the podium several times before the room finally began to settle down. “I’m sure you all have a great many questions.  We are going to provide you with answers to most of them today, as well as many more that will come up during the remainder of your stay. But, we will need your undivided attention now. We will first give you some background as to why your respective units were formed. Also, what we hope for you to accomplish in the name of humanity and its current civilization.” For this, the children shushed immediately and focused their complete attention on the speaker. “Now to begin with, I ask you to listen carefully as I concede the floor to Sgt. Rodriguez.”
         All eyes focused on the sturdy-looking man as he walked to the podium and cleared his throat as though what he intended to impart was much too important to trust to a cold and untested voice. “Good morning, campers. I will not waste any time getting to the point of this morning’s meeting. We have a great deal to cover. I don’t want to be stuck here through lunch, as I have heard today’s meal will be very special indeed.
         “I wish to talk today, at least in part, about a time that was not complicated by the Santeen threat under which we live today. As you all know from your studies, the Santeen arrived at Terra over one hundred years ago. They have been complicating life for us ever since.  Today, we will learn something about the events in history that led up to the oppression by the star travelers, known as the Santeen Empire.
          “Almost forgotten is the story of our own humble beginnings in space flight. In fact, the struggle of mankind to reach out and touch the nearer planets in our own solar system is not even remarked upon in your coursework. This is due to secrecy and because of our own limited knowledge of how those ventures fare today.  We do know that our original colonization attempts on Luna and Mars were successful beyond our dreams, at least up until the time when the Santeen arrived. We have had no way to communicate with either of our neighbors, since our struggles began. Neither have we had any word from our space-based allies of the United Consortium for Asteroid Mining in the Van Allen belt. At this time, only a handful of people are even aware of another space mission that was begun before the Bugs arrived. This mission was, at the time of its’ conception, considered the broadest, most-important effort the human race ever attempted. Now, however, after nearly a century of war, no mention of the project even appears in our histories. This mission was kept strictly secret after the invasion had begun -- at first because of fear that the human race was to be destroyed. Mostly, in hope that maybe a small part of our race and culture might survive as a lasting reminder we had once existed in this vast universe. After a time though, it was hoped that the mission would be successful and would return with new friends to save us from our eventual destruction. A small hope indeed, to keep us from total despair, as the obvious superiority of our enemies ensured the eventual outcome of our struggle, without some kind of help. We remain convinced that, without some outside intervention, we will eventually fall prey to the advance of the Santeen.
          “In the last several years, we have been working very quietly, on what we now consider our last hope, for the survival of the race in our planetary system. As the Santeen arrived in orbit around Terra, our own interplanetary starship, confidently dubbed Voyager, was departing on a long journey to reach a faraway star system from which we received an invitation to meet another form of intelligent life. Although we cannot be certain our ship was not sighted and destroyed by the Santeen as it departed from our airspace, we still hold hope they evaded the invaders and continued to safely complete their mission. We can only hope that they have by now, learned much of the advanced civilization that sent the invitation.
          Now we know we cannot afford to wait and see if those brave souls, who embarked on that great expedition, will return to our space in time to help. We have been long in planning a second expedition to that star; to either find our long-lost star explorers and ask for their help; or find the race that initiated that ancient message and gain our survival from whatever assistance they may be willing to afford us.
         “All of your parents have been aware of our efforts these many years since your birth. Sadly, we were too concerned with the security issues involved to include you in our planning stages, or your training would now be much further along. When our mission was first conceived, we searched through all genetic and intelligence records. We then cross-referenced these records with our athletic and health records. After this, the records of those who met the criteria (those who scored highest in all categories) were once again matched with those of families who were prone to above-average longevity. The list that remained was the group of people in whom we concentrated our study.
         “When these people married and started families, we closely monitored their offspring for similar talents and abilities. Those children who excelled, were invited to become campers and homemakers. Those of you who excelled in the camps and showed above-average intelligence, ambition and leadership qualities were chosen to attend this awards ceremony.” This last, he spoke with a large grin, “Up until the time we invited you to attend, your parents knew only that you had been chosen as a special group of highly intelligent children to receive special training and assistance in an effort to prepare you for the time when you could take over as future leaders of our world.
          “The parents of the children who were not chosen continue to believe this is true, and so it is. Those children will continue to be trained for this purpose. They are still going to be the cream of the genetic crop, so to speak, of those who were not chosen to train with you. This way, only the parents of those in this room needed to be informed of the higher purpose waiting for those who complete this training.
         “We do, apologize for misleading you. None of you will be held here against your will. Your parents had to agree to allow you to make your own decisions before any of you were invited here. There were only two of the chosen that were not invited, because their parents did not approve. I’m afraid that, again, due to security, these two families will be held in quarantine until this mission is long underway, as will any of you who choose not to participate or are unable to complete the training. All who are put into quarantine will be treated well and afforded whatever freedoms we can control, but you must understand that absolute secrecy must be maintained.
         “Those of you who remain, will be allowed to visit with your families a few at a time so their coming and going will not raise suspicion. Congratulations children, you have been chosen to act on behalf of mankind, to cross the stars and secure aid for our cause. This will be a very long journey. By the time you return, the guides (instructors, service personnel, ship’s crew and the like) will have long since passed away. Because we will not have the time necessary to complete your training in all these fields, you will need to learn much on your trip outward. In this way, you will all still be young enough to take over the duties to make the return trip, when, the fates allowing, you will bring back to Terra the help we so desperately need. I thank you for bearing with me. Now I will turn the floor over to Cpl. Boxer.” With that, the sergeant returned to his seat and the corporal rose to the podium.
         While the speakers were changing, Harley sat dumbfounded, staring at the podium. He came out of his daze just enough to look around at the other campers and notice they all appeared equally shocked. All, that is, except for that boy he recognized from the camping trip. He sat at the end of the aisle grinning like the cat that swallowed the proverbial mouse. This was almost more than Harley could swallow. What the hell was going on? What did all this mean? Did they mean that none of the kids could ever go and see any of their old friends again? They said we could visit our families, but it sounded like the families were going to have to come here. Did that mean that we weren’t to be allowed out of here? Well, he did say no one had to participate, but what about this “quarantine”? Sounded like even if you didn’t participate, you got locked up somewhere.
         On another plane altogether, Harley was struck by the thought that somehow he had been counted among the highest achievers in the camper program. This was almost as surprising as the news of the mission. Harley had never considered himself elite or better than his friends. No, average seemed to be a place where he fit in quite comfortably. Sure, he had done well enough at the coursework and exercises, but that was just because that stuff was kind of fun. He sure didn’t excel in his class. Now that he thought of it, he did seem to get picked to be team captain most of the time for the extracurricular athletic activities, that he and his friends joined through the school, but that was mostly because nobody else wanted to do it. Wasn’t it?
         Then another thought took away his breath, just as if he had taken a hard fall and landed square on his back. He was being asked to go into space! Of all the times, at home and at camp, when he would daydream about going to space and living a life free from those rotten Santeen -- just existing without threat -- he had to shut his eyes and shake his head. This was too much. Wasn’t it just yesterday his father had said he was too young to take the power launch out by himself? And now, here was someone saying they wanted him to go into space to find the answer to the problem that had stumped the best military minds on the planet for countless generations.
          Of course there had been no time for much in the way of research and development, what with the Bugs harrying the planet. In fact, there had been few significant technological advances since the war started. He supposed if there really was some advanced civilization among the stars (and he supposed there could be, since that’s where the Santeen came from), then an answer to the crises might have a better chance of being found there, than by waiting for something to be found here. As he thought about that, he began to feel something in the pit of his stomach -- like a drink of cocoa expanding and sending a warm feeling, accompanied by a sense of mild euphoria through his nerve endings, lifting his spirit, and creating a giddy feeling, he sensed more than felt. Harley made up his mind in that moment. This was surely the best day he had ever experienced. Of course, he would miss his parents and his younger sister, but how could he even think of turning down a chance to go to the stars?
         The corporal interrupted his dreams, as he spoke in a strong baritone voice that was obviously trained to command attention, “All of you, at your ages, have been used to some fairly strenuous physical activity, due to your involvement in sports and the exercises at the camps. But if you choose to remain after today, you will be expected to work very hard to become the best physical specimens possible before D-day. That’s what we’re calling the final day of your departure. The demands of the trip will be heavy enough on the full-grown adults who are in top shape. I’m afraid you’ll also be expected to develop your own bodies to the same extent as they would develop here on Terra. You’ll have to do this while in a low-gravity environment for the most part. This will be more difficult, and will require we develop special training routines and continue with them during the duration of the voyage. Yes, I’m sure you will understand we can’t have you coming back to save us all, just to have you stumble to the ground when you get here like the Bugs did. Right?” There was mild laughter throughout the room. Too many of the kids were just too overwhelmed to appreciate the humor. Harley laughed. The corporal took note of the kids who responded, and those that didn’t. He nodded to himself and continued. “Alright, I’m sure you all have as many questions now as you did when you came in, probably more. I promise you there will be plenty of time to ask all of them before you are asked to make your decision But for now, we want to give you a little time to get this all straight in your minds before we continue to bombard you with the accumulated knowledge of thousands of years. Also we assume that you are hungry. I know that I am. Harley hadn’t had time to think about eating, but he now felt his stomach growl and realized it had been over 5 hours since he had eaten. And that was just toast and juice!
The corporal rapped the podium for quite once again as the campers had grown quite loud after the speech ended. “I have one more announcement to make before we leave. Harley Davidson Marine Camper 1rst class, you have been selected to serve as platoon leader for the yellow team which consists of all the campers on the right side of the auditorium. Sylvia Towner Marine camper 1rst class you are blue team platoon leader. Your platoon consists of all the campers on the left side of the auditorium. Each of you will take your respective teams to the mess hall for lunch. If you will form your teams into single-file lines, you may follow Captain O’Hanlon. I hope you will all decide to stay and participate in this historic endeavor.”  As he finished, the same blonde who brought them to the auditorium stood and ordered them to follow her in single file. Harley was once again overwhelmed at the speed things were happening. He was stunned that he had been chosen as platoon leader, but had the presence of mind to form his team into a line. As they formed he noticed the boy with the familiar face looking at him with a particularly unfriendly expression.

  9            Lt. Sybil Grant entered her apartment, fuming. Hadn't she long ago committed herself to a career in the service of the planet? Actually, the thought of spending her next twenty years washing clothes, dishes and everything that gets dirty while cooking, attending school events, entertaining other young mothers and discussions of what was the best laundry detergent, or where to get the best buys on curtain rods, did not appeal to her then. And, they did not appeal to her now either!  So now after spending her entire adult life training to be the best in her field, they had the nerve to re-assign her to babysitting?

10          Harley had spent a full week at the marine camp and the reality that he was going to space had finally sunk in. He had decided to approach this training the same way he did the camping training and do the best he knew how to show he deserved his new rank. He was proud that he had been chosen and didn’t want anyone thinking they had chosen wrong. The training was intense and he was physically and mentally exhausted by the time he hit the rack after lessons, but it was a good feeling to work hard to be ready for this exciting mission. The others were mostly hard workers too so they were moving forward quickly. Someone had hacked the computers that controlled the meal menus and for two days the mess served them sweetmeats and ice cream. Harley knew this couldn’t be what they were supposed to be eating, but he figured the people in charge wouldn’t let it go on long, so he enjoyed the treats for as long as they lasted.

11          Sybil Grant sighed with relief, as she settled down to make arrangements for the families of the new campers to have visits scheduled throughout the term of training. This was somewhat difficult because one had to make allowances for work schedules, school schedules, personal agendas and the like. Then, of course, there was only so much time in each week. Not everyone could come at the same time. For lieutenant Grant though, this was simple logistics, with which she was ever so much more comfortable than baby-sitting. She considered the chore a reprieve from the latter and was determined to make such a reprieve last as long as possible without appearing inefficient. She had been in charge of the new arrivals for one full month now and felt as if she would need electric shock or some similarly archaic therapy if this continued much longer. Its’ not that the kids misbehaved or were difficult to get along within any way, in fact quite the opposite was true. These were probable the most personable, well-behaved children she had ever known. It was just that she was used to working with military personnel who took her orders, no questions asked and just did what they were told. These kids were proving to be a lot more interesting than she had ever anticipated though. The only problem was that they were so inquisitive, she found she was spending three or four times as much effort on each of her explanations as she had expected to. After she would answer the first question, the answer would spark ten more -- why this was this way, and that was that way; and weren’t there any other ways or easier ways? Then when she thought she had answered every question they could possibly come up with, someone would invariably ask why, again. She guessed that inquiring minds were all right, but the minds she was used to dealing with took a break now and then. These kids just never let up! Oh well, she shook her brunette curls as she perused the empty schedule she had created. She thought, I’ll just get lost in this for a while and pretty soon I’ll be able to relax and get my mind off them.
          Four hours later the schedule was complete. She had nothing left to keep her from returning to her charges. Wouldn’t you think there would be some kind of conflict with at least some of their parents’ schedules? Not one! Every one she contacted had immediately agreed to the tentative time she suggested. A job she thought would take the rest of the day was finished by lunchtime.
         Well, she supposed Capt. O’Hanlon would be at mess with the kids. She would try to eat at the officers’ mess and see if she couldn’t stir up some adult companionship before she returned to kiddy land. Just as she stood to leave her office, the intercom squealed. The monotone of the com officer paged her to the campers’ mess. She looked toward the ceiling for a moment, as if pleading with some higher power to intercede; and then walked out of the office, resigned to her fate. If this is another misuse of supply codes, they will have liver and onions for the rest of the month! Unbelievable! One of the little brains had broken the supply codes two more times this week. No one could find out how they were doing it. Unless he or she slipped up and they found out who was doing it. There was no way to stop it from happening again and again. The more it happened the more delighted the rest of the gang became. It was almost laughable, except that the guides who were ostensibly responsible for the children were beginning to feel like the inmates were now running the asylum. She had to admit it was embarrassing to be beaten at every turn by a group of school children. Just as Sybil turned the corner and entered the mess, she was knocked off her feet by two young boys, who were locked together at the shoulders, pushing at each other as hard as they could. As she went down, she saw several chairs overturned. All of the kids from yellow team were crowded into a half circle watching the two combatants, now sprawled on the floor on top of the exasperated lieutenant. One of the boys, Harley was his name she thought, the one who was acting-platoon leader for the yellow team, was holding the other boy (Tom Candor, she remembered) in a thumb lock, and demanding he apologize. Tom, who was at least a head taller than Harley and ten kilos heavier, was grimacing with pain, as he blew through gritted teeth and tried to twist out of the hold unsuccessfully. Harley moved Tom’s thumb a fraction of a centimeter. The fight went out of the larger boy. Harley repeated, “Apologize now, Tom, and I will let you up.” The boy grunted, then gruffly spat out, “Okay, I apologize. Now, let me go!” Harley didn’t let go right away, instead he said, “Now when I let you up, you are going to go over to your seat, and act as though your parents taught you how to behave in public. Do you understand?” He created just enough pressure in the boy’s joint so he quickly released his breath again, as he responded, “Okay.” Harley released his grip on the boy and stepped back slightly, watching carefully as the larger boy straightened. Tom looked for a moment as though he meant to argue the point further, but thought better of it, then walked grumbling to his seat and sat down.
          Sybil brushed the bits of food scraps from an overturned tray off her skirt. She tried to compose herself before tearing into the two rapscallions. “Alright, you two!” she managed, “Just what, in the name of Singe, is going on here?” Harley looked a little sheepish as he replied, “Sorry ma’am, we were just going over the proper form for apology. I guess we got a little carried away.” Tom just stared at his empty plate, as though he was not involved in the brief episode at all.
“Okay, Sybil started, everyone take your seats. Now!” She walked to the head of the table behind Harley, who was reseating himself. “Now!” she said. “You! What happened at this table?” She pointed at a rosy-faced youth, halfway between the ends of the table. The boy turned bright red, but answered right away. “Well, Tom came up to the other end of the table from Harley and told Melissa to move, because this was his seat. Then, when she didn’t move, he pulled her hair really hard, and told her to move again. Harley told Tom that Melissa was going to stay right where she was, and that he better apologize to her for pulling her hair, if he didn’t want trouble. Tom just started yelling that he was going to sit at the end of the table, because that’s where he belonged, and he should be platoon leader anyway, instead of Harley. Harley just said that maybe he should be, but as of right now, he was just a bully who needed to apologize to Melissa before things got any worse. That’s when Tom just kinda went crazy and jumped on Harley. They both fell over the chairs and started fighting. Then they both got up and Harley was pushing Tom toward the door, when you came through ma’am.”
         Sybil asked the youngster his name. He replied, “Brad Metzen, ma’am.” “Does anybody else have a different story?” No one at the table spoke. The lieutenant asked Tom, “Well, Tom, have you got anything to say?” The redheaded bully spat, “ Yeah, since when does he have the right to order me around? He’s not my boss. Anyway, I should be the platoon leader instead of him. My Dad is in charge of this mission and I know more about it than any of these creeps do.”
         Sybil was appalled by the vehemence in the boy’s voice, not because she hadn’t seen anger before, but she had come to think of these boys and girls as little ladies and gentleman. At least they had always appeared so on the surface. Well, she supposed some conflicts were bound to arise, but the tone of voice used by this young bully was filled with a loathing more consistent with a captured Santeen than a pre-teen boy. This one would bear watching more closely. “Mister Candor you will go to your dorm now. I will deal with you later, Platoon Leader Davidson. You will compose a full report, detailing what happened here today. Have it on my desk first thing in the morning. Do you understand?” said Sybil. “Yes, ma’am, Lieutenant,” he replied quietly. “The rest of you, understand this: Your platoon leaders were chosen very carefully after considering all qualifications. Those chosen were determined to posses the qualities necessary to command respect and make good decisions when those decisions will affect our mission. Now, until it has been determined that this responsibility is too much for a platoon leader to handle, or a better qualified person is found, your platoon leader IS YOUR BOSS for all intents and purposes. You may not be a cohesive military squad as yet, but you may as well get used to living under a chain of command. If, in the future, any of you have a problem, I will expect you to take it to your platoon leader for resolution. If you are unable to resolve your problem within your platoon leader, you will then be allowed to bring the problem to me. Let me warn you though, if you bring a problem to me, it had better be worth my time. If my resolution of your problem coincides with your platoon leader’s resolution, YOU will then become a disciplinary problem and I WILL resolve all disciplinary problems in a manner that will leave no doubt who was right! Also, if any of you go over my head in an effort to circumvent my authority, you will be out of the program before you know what hit you. Is that clear?” A chorus of, “Yes, ma’am,” was the only sound in the room. “Alright then, go on with your meal; and then report to the 25th-level gymnasium. Mr. Candor I ordered you to your quarters I do not remember giving you permission to eat first. You will leave now!” The young man scowled as he got up and huffed away. The lieutenant could not believe his bad manners. As she walked away, she thought, by gum, that Harley kid is quite a spitfire, all right. A real head on his shoulders, but he remained calm as a battle-hardened marine under pressure. Looks like that was one assignment that couldn’t have been made at military intelligence. It made too much sense.          

12          Walking to his dorm after physical training, Harley wondered what his folks were doing now. That stupid episode this afternoon had, at first, made him angry. Then, as he thought about it more, he decided he had done what was right. That big oaf had no reason to act the way he did. Melissa was kind of snooty, but she hadn’t done or said anything to Tom.
         Ever since they gave him the damn platoon leader’s job, he had decided that if he was going to do it, he was going to do it well. This mission had already changed his life significantly. It was one thing to attend classes and do your chores, while waiting to grow up so you could finally do something. Was he dreaming of the stars and an exciting career in the space corps, or actually a part of a space mission right now? Well, you had to rearrange priorities pretty quickly. The weight of his new responsibilities was heavier than anything he had ever known. That was what had triggered his response to the hair pulling. After all, it was his responsibility to see things like that didn’t happen. So, when it did happen, he felt embarrassed and angry. The anger was mostly directed toward himself, because he had allowed it to start. Embarrassment was simply the result of knowing that if he had been on his toes, more alert to what was going on, he might have seen something that could be done before it started. He thought back to the look on Tom’s face the day they made him platoon leader. Yes, if he had been more on the ball, he should have foreseen trouble in that look.
         “Well, once it started what else could I have done?” he said to the empty hallway. He had done what was necessary. If only the lieutenant hadn’t walked in right then, it could have been settled, over with, and no one the wiser. This leadership stuff sure wasn’t easy, especially with rock noggins like Tom around. That feeling of responsibility was almost overwhelming to him right now. That coupled with the frustration of not being able to handle the job without the lieutenant’s interference. Hell, he could have brought that slob into line himself with just a little more time. Boy, she must think I’m a sorry excuse for a leader! Anyway, that’s what had him thinking of home. To think, just a week ago, I wasn’t thinking of anything, but how to get Dad to let me use the power launch! Then he came to the dorm and let himself in.
          The dorm room, smaller than his room at home even, was still a lot better than sleeping in the bunkroom occupied by the rest of his team. This was the one positive perk for taking on the responsibility of platoon leader. He got his own room. There was everything he needed, so he didn’t mind the cramped quarters. He stretched out on the bunk without even taking his new camper uniform off. They had been distributed after physical training, and it was a good thing. None of the campers had brought anything extra. They had to wear a kind of hooded shift since the first day.
         He thought the new uniforms were really sharp. They were all beige, long-sleeved, button-down collared shirts, and cuffed slacks. There was a patch on the sleeve near the shoulder. It was silver, in the shape of a pointed cylinder with three fins sloping out from the center of the cylinder, and extending to the snubbed end at the rear. This was a replica patch of their ship, the Terran Starship Hope II. The ship they were almost finished building for the mission. Their names were stitched on the front pocket. The ship was also really sharp, thought Harley. They had seen an artist’s concept drawing today, too. Harley was just slipping off to sleep, hoping to dream of flying the new ship, when he groaned aloud, “Oh, that stinking report! He slowly got up from the bunk, and walked to the small desk.

13           Sybil Grant slipped into her bed thinking; At least I don’t have to put up with those packing cases the campers are living in. It had been a long afternoon spent commandeering meeting rooms for the parents’ visits. She felt like an idiot when the commander asked where she was holding the visits. It hadn’t even dawned on her that the campers’ quarters were too small to fit the kids and parents. They would need someplace with at least a little privacy. She contacted Cpl. Boxer, and thankfully, he was willing to provide space in the small gymnasium for two families at a time.
          Capt. O’Hanlon, on the other hand, was a different case. She was hard put to find as many meeting rooms as they needed, even if the visitations could be doubled up. They finally worked out a schedule that would work, if all of the regular meetings concerning the everyday operations got done on time. If not? “Oh well, cross that bridge if we get to it. Right, O’Hanlon?” And she closed her eyes just a moment before being overtaken by an exhausted slumber.         

14          Today was the day for the final test of the Hope’s auxiliary booster pack. If all went well today, the pack would be fitted to the ship.
         Sgt. Scott Murdock, a gruff veteran of thirty years this month, was eating a generous helping of ham and eggs at the cafe across the street from his temporary living quarters. He was lucky to get a place so close to the exchange where he worked, but he would still be happy to return to his comfortable little cabin when this job was over.
          Murdock was not tall, but when you were standing face to face with him you got a feeling of immense power. He was not exactly fat either. His wide shoulders and big meaty hands were the product of hard, sometimes backbreaking, physical labor. Over the years, he had softened a little, but none of the men who worked his crews would ever be heard saying that. At least they would not say it within his hearing.
          It had been just over a year since he was sent to the secret backcountry plant of the Old Earth Space Systems Company. This was the closest Terra could come to a legitimate shipbuilder. All of the real shipbuilding firms were stationed in and near the Van Allen belt. This due to the theory it is more cost-effective to build ships where the materials are obtained and processed. Of course, that meant all the mining and materials processing plants were off-planet as well. Since the war started, Terra had put together mining and processing facilities, but nothing like the giant combine in space. Still, when the call came to build two starships, the materials had been obtained. From what Murdock heard, there were a lot of other projects that were now short because of the priority of this order. Top secret, too.
         The first ship had already been shipped to Terra Prime. After today’s test, he felt sure this would be over within a month. He laid his money on the table, a healthy tip for the cute little brunette, who always took care to make sure he had enough to fill him up. Then he rose to make the walk to work.
          It was a short walk, down two blocks, turn left for one more and enter the shabby-looking, two-story brownstone, halfway up the block. Funny, he thought, how these top-secret plans always start out in run-down old buildings. He walked through the front door and straight to a stairway. Descending the stairs, he stopped at the first level, and entered a doorway marked maintenance. A hallway took him to a second doorway. For this, he used a key to enter, and then punched a code quickly into a keypad behind the door. Shutting and relocking the door, he walked to his desk and picked up the military phone. The voice at the other end asked for an extension number. Murdock replied, “266,” and was transferred. The next voice was automated and asked for a clearance code. Again, Murdock replied, then hung up the receiver.
         This was the home office of The Albinville Currency Exchange. Murdock had not had any need to serve customers since he had been here. He guessed it was a good enough cover. His acquaintances in town had asked how he could make a living there. He simply replied that most of his business was done by mail. He hadn’t had to explain further. People weren’t much interested in money exchanges. They didn’t see any way to profit from it -- or gain any enjoyment. When they talked to Murdock, they just talked about other things. Murdock decided he would use this cover again.
          Now he picked up the end of the small rug in front of his desk. Along with the rug, came a small section of the floor. Murdock held the floor section up. He descended the narrow stairway to the hidden basement, and replaced the floor section behind him. The rug would cover the secret door if anyone did manage to gain entry to his private office. Another doorway at the end of the basement took him into a long tunnel that ran straight west, away from the small town. A four-seater electro car waited for him in the tunnel. The driver looked straight ahead. He was just awaiting his passenger. Murdock wondered, as he got into the car, what are they telling these transport drivers anyway? He had been picked up in the mornings and carried back in the evenings for over a year. He had never seen a smile or heard a word from any of the drivers. They just sat face forward with eyes straight ahead during the entire six-mile trip. The few times he had tried to initiate conversations, the drivers had just ignored his overtures, and seemed very nervous. Almost like they thought he was gonna bite their heads off or something. On the other hand, he had almost enjoyed these quiet periods to begin his days and to end them. The quiet time was good for organizing his thoughts in the morning, and unwinding in the evenings. However, the view left a lot to be desired. Two walls, a floor and ceiling stretching out for as far as vision permitted in the dim tunnel. This was far from refreshing. At times, one could imagine all types of hidden dangers lurking behind every shadow. Maybe that was what had happened to the drivers.
         These tunnels ran in all directions from the plant. Murdock guessed they were probably converted from some ancient sewer system or something similar. There were stories that a great city had once been home to millions of people here -- back before the consolidation of power -- when the planet was split up into many nation states. Well, here comes my stop; time to prove this booster idea can get the Hope out of the planet’s gravity, so it can begin the mission. When the driver stopped in front of the big sliding door, Murdock jumped out and entered the plant. His driver was still sitting face forward as he walked out of the tunnel. For a moment, Murdock had a vision of the man sitting at his post all day long, just waiting for Murdock to need his services again at the end of the day.
         There was a flurry of activity in the main hangar, centered on the big quad rocket. Last minute checks were being performed on the computer system, as the booster would carry its own program, designed to get the ship from the ground to the edge of space, where the ships own drive would then take over. The booster pack would then be blown from its moorings, and drift back to the surface, falling back to land safely in the ocean. This idea had been found among some of the oldest records in existence. Apparently, it had been used during humankind’s first efforts to attain orbit around the planet.
         The materials all had to come from the planet itself, before there were any industries in space to provide them. That was the big drawback with this mission. If they could have built the ships in space with material from the Asteroid belt, they wouldn’t need to lift from the surface. They wouldn’t need the boosters. The way he understood it, the first ship would lift from Terra Prime as a decoy. Therefore, it only needed the booster pack to lift it beyond the gravitational pull of the planet. That ship was not even equipped with a real ships’ drive. The momentum gained during lift-off would continue to propel the ship away from Terra at almost escape velocity for a long time. Of course, this wasn’t expected to be necessary for long. It was hoped that the huge Santeen vessel in high orbit would notice the departure, and pursue the decoy. This would give the Hope a chance to leave undetected from the opposite side of the world. The success of this plan rested heavily on the cooperation of the Bugs. If they took the bait and chased after the drone ship, if it took them long enough to overtake and destroy the drone, the Hope would possibly get far enough away to avoid detection. And, if the secrecy of the plan remained intact, And, if the Bugs were sufficiently taken by surprise, it just might work.
          A lot of ifs, but Terra had not attempted to raise a ship since the invasion had begun. There was no reason for them to be watching too closely. There was also the chance they were unaware of the Visitor’s departure. And so, they would also be unaware that the humans had the capacity to produce an actual star drive. As Murdock crossed the space to the booster, he took note of the many technicians and maintenance workers with disgust. How would they ever get this thing off the ground in secrecy with all these people involved? The people who did the majority of the work on the ships and the boosters were a small and select group. The controls that were imposed on these people were stringent. Everyone knew just how important this secret was. The launch date was finally set (though tentatively). The rush to complete construction and testing had made it necessary to bring in many outsiders. The new personnel had all been thoroughly checked out, of course; but still, the more people involved, the more chance someone would let something slip. Just the increased number of workers coming into the plant each day would be a significant breach of security, if spotted by the watchful eyes in the Santeen ship. That was why many of the people in the project were brought in and out each day through the tunnels.
         A young technician stopped in front of Murdock and shoved a clipboard at him. “The programming all checks out, Sarge. The fuel is topped off, the booster is locked down, and all systems are green. Need your signature to begin the test.” The technician, a very capable physicist in his own right, handed the clipboard to Murdock as he spoke. Murdock looked over the final tallies on the critical stats sheet -- even though he had been working with Harve for more than three years and trusted him implicitly. He then signed the test order, saying, “Good work, Harve.” He returned the clipboard and walked to the blockhouse, where the instrumentation received the thrust, stress, vibration and communications signals, from sensors incorporated into the holding basket surrounding the booster.
         As he entered the blockhouse, he depressed a button on the wall next to the door, and a klaxon sounded throughout the hangar. Technicians and maintenance alike began to evacuate the hangar. In a matter of minutes, the facility was secure. Only those in the blockhouse remained within half a mile of the test site.
         “Alright, you guys know the drill. Report!” The seven work stations that would monitor the test all reported green status. Murdock ordered, “Okay, start the countdown.” A large clock above the blast observation window, illuminated and began counting down from sixty seconds. All eyes wandered to the clock during the countdown, but had returned to their screens before the last ten seconds clicked off. At ten seconds, Murdock again ordered, “Report!” Once again, all stations reported green and the test began just as the clock reached zero.
          Fifteen minutes later, all of the personnel involved were ordered to go home. This was good because if the test had encountered any problems, they all would have been looking forward to a long day. As it was, the test area was still going to be quite warm the next day when they returned. Everyone was in a good mood now and Murdock hoped that would carry through to the next day. That would help, because tomorrow was gonna be a long day if they were to get the booster wedded to the ship, securely enough to release the crane.
          He watched Harve lock up, and then walked back to the tunnel to his waiting ride. He felt as if the end were drawing near as he rode back to his office. Maybe he could have a little celebration tonight with that cute little waitress Wendy, if he could talk her into going out with such a used-up old wrench.


15    Harley dragged himself out of his bunk and walked to the fresher. He had rewritten the report three times before he was satisfied the facts were right, and nothing of any importance had been left out. Nothing unnecessary was in the report, and there was no hint of prejudice or judgment that he could see, just an honest reporting of the events. It would be just his luck if the kid’s father wanted him hung out to dry for accosting his little brat. Wait a minute! That was just the kind of stuff his father called, “Being a loser before you’ve ever lost.” Anyway, he had too much else to think about to worry about anything right now! He dressed quickly and left to deliver the report before the lieutenant got to the office.

16          The first item on the schedule posted in the mess was an orientation class for “How to visit your families.” What in the world were they up to now?  Well, the only way to find out is to go find out, he mused.
          Walking to the auditorium, he ran into Melissa coming from her dorm. He informed her that today they were going to learn how not to tell our parents what they had learned, without making them feel left out. She looked at him for a moment, then asked, “You don’t think they’re going to tell us to lie to our parents, do you?” Harley chuckled and said, “Think about it, Melissa. They’ve been telling us things they sure wouldn’t want slipped out to the public. We are somewhat protected here from spilling something important. I don’t know if you have thought about it, but being here in the program, as isolated as we are, is probably more of quarantine than the place they call quarantine. Our parents, on the other hand, are very vulnerable to slipping something in casual conversation with a neighbor, or a fellow employee at lunch. They have to restrict what information goes out of here to protect the project. Make sense?” “Yes,” she replied slowly. “Look,” Harley said, “I don’t mean to say that anyone distrusts your folks or anything, but doesn’t it make sense also, that the less people who know about things like projected schedules, certain types of space training, any number of things that would be dangerous if they were overheard by the Santeen surveillance equipment, the better? I’ll just bet we get a list of ‘do’s and don’ts’ today.”
         She looked at him again for a moment, and then said, “I’m beginning to see why you were made platoon leader.” Harley looked away from her for just a second and muttered, “Thanks.” When he turned back, his face was as rosy as the fair-skinned freckled camper; Brad Metzen’s had been when the lieutenant had ordered him to speak. “Oh, modest as well, are you? You’re turning out to be quite an interesting boy, Harley Davidson!” With that, the brash young girl double-timed away from him and over to a seat next to one of her girlfriends. That was fine with Harley for he felt quite uncomfortable when she looked at him like that.
         The assembly turned out to be pretty much like Harley had expected, except they were much more thorough than he had been in his earlier thinking. They didn’t break until lunchtime. The first visits were scheduled right after everyone ate.

17           Harley’s visit went well. Both his mother and father were full of how proud they were of him. His sister even sat still and listened attentively to what he had to say. She told him his friends had asked about him. She had told them he was at a special school in the city. Arnie Haas had asked, “What’s the matter? Couldn’t keep up with the rest of us, huh?” Bud Weigard punched him in the stomach and that was the last joke. Good ole Bud, thought Harley. Always ready to stick up for a friend.
          The afternoon went well. When the family was walking out, Harley asked with a sly smile, “Hey, Dad, think when I come home I could borrow the power launch?” His father smiled back and stated grimly, “ Son, you come back home, and I’ll buy you a brand new power launch, as soon as the first one rolls off the assembly line.” After they left, Harley went back to his room. He just didn’t feel like being around anyone right now.

18          The communications around here were enough to drive you to the little shops on the outskirts of the city, where you could, for the right price, purchase several hours of intense drug-assisted psychotherapy, guaranteed to make you forget your troubles for several hours. The commander must think she’s losing her grip for sure. The memo had come to his desk three days ago. He had forwarded it to her that morning and she still wasn’t sure what it was about. From the way he spoke in their meeting, he evidently expected her to transport the kids somewhere tomorrow. She didn’t have the slightest idea where, when or why. She rushed to her office and checked for mid-morning mail. Damn, there it was. Oh no, she had to take the kids to Westover AFB for zero gravity exercises at 10 a.m. the next morning.
          Finally after 9 p.m., she arranged with a local school a last minute trip to the planetarium, including a lunch and afternoon seminar on the flora and fauna of the world. What a topic! How, in Singe’s name, had she come up with that? Anyway, the kids would arrive at 6 a.m. and the campers would board their buses as soon as they were empty and the kids were gone. They would drive to Westover, complete the exercises, return to the Terran Federated planets building, and get off the buses just in time for the school kids to board. Great if it all worked that way. Then she had to work out the events she had just promised. This time Louise O’Hanlon had been a godsend. Together they had lined up the materials, the narrators, guides and meals so tomorrow a bunch of undeserving brats were going to get a fun-filled day on the project. And, at her expense as well, all for the use of a couple registered school buses.  She was going back to her room to “get me some sleep”, so she could get up in two and a half hours and drive a bus.

19           Ringing? What was that ringing? Harley awoke with a start. It was the military phone in his room. A great option except that he had no one to call. He had never even heard it ring before. He got to the wall in one step and answered the noisy appliance. It turned out he was needed to assemble the yellow team in the auditorium for an early update. Whatever that meant. After a quick morning routine, he went out to tell his team the news. He told everyone to assemble in the auditorium at 5 a.m. He could have used the room phone, but never having had the convenience at home, he was not quite comfortable yet with using something as precious as land line communications, for something he could do by simply walking down the hall.
         The work had been hard these last two and a half months, with coursework and exercises starting at 6 a.m. every day and lasting until 8 or 9 p.m. most nights. True to his word, the corporal had run physical training that rendered them exhausted every day, but Harley was more than happy with the way he was “bulking up,” as the corporal put it.
         Harley arrived at the auditorium just in time to see Tom Candor being hauled away by his ear. One of the security guards was not being very gentle as he led the angry young man away screaming unintelligibly. Harley heard the boy yell, “When my father finds out!” but everything else was just lost in his rage. The assembly was to start in a couple of minutes, so he went inside to find a seat.
          When the update did start, everyone sat up straight and took notice, as the commander walked onto the stage. The only other time he had been around was on that first day.
          “Troops, first I want to congratulate all of you who are sitting here today. As of this moment, you are no longer campers. You have just become full-fledged Terran Marines, in an all-new battle group, designated “The 1st Marine Space Corps. Your rank is designated regular cadet, except for the platoon leaders, who are now designated Cadets 1st Class. You should familiarize yourselves with the privileges and responsibilities that go with your rank as soon as possible. You will be provided with reading disks on your way out. Included in these materials are the proper protocols for military personnel, and how you should work to improve your skills and talents to best serve your world, until the time comes when you finally put them to work.”
         “Today, I have some news I think will get the most-tired of you excited again. The ship you will be flying, The Hope II is 100 percent complete and ready to fly.” He stopped at this point to let the words sink in. Then the noise in the room became so intense he couldn’t have continued if he wanted to. He stood on the stage and grinned as the new troops screamed, jumped and traded high fives, until they were out of wind. Now they were ready to sit down and absorb this revelation. When the noise had abated sufficiently, the commander continued, “We knew the construction was finishing ahead of schedule. But, we weren’t sure there wouldn’t be problems in testing. For that reason, we didn’t inform you until we were sure of our new launch date. We did, however, push up your training schedules, in case the new date was confirmed. We have plenty to keep you busy though. You will have to attend short classes today, just to turn in your materials and assignments. The numbers are already in, and everyone here today has high enough scores to pass without these.
         We want you to know how pleased we are with these results. There were fifty campers chosen originally. Out of the fifty, two were quarantined before we began. Out of the original forty-eight, we had to drop one young lady in blue team for health reasons, and one young man in yellow team washed out for scholastic as well as psychological reasons. These figures are far below our projections. The overall class averages are a good deal higher than we had hoped. Okay, troops, you may now attend classes. You will receive personal itineraries before the day is out. Dismissed.”
          Harley picked up his reader disk and continued to his first class. On the way, several of the new cadets were joking about how the troops were going to go down to Old Earth Systems and show those grunts what Space Marines look like. Harley thought, Boy, they just get out of training, and they think they’re salted troops. He didn’t like the sound of this. As he walked into his classroom, he saw the writing on the board.  “Congrats, cadets! Drop your materials in the proper containers and your assignments on the desk. Go to your next class.” Harley’s next class was physical training, so he headed for the gym.
         When he arrived at the gym, Cpl. Boxer motioned to him to join him. He was standing with a uniformed officer, and they appeared to be waiting for something. As he approached the two, Cpl. Boxer said, “Congratulations, cadet, this is Major. Winston of the Marine Protocol Division. Major, this is Space Cadet 1st Class Harley Davidson.” The major looked at Harley as the youth extended his right hand, saying, “Pleased to meet you, sir.” The major just stared. Harley felt himself blush, then raised his right hand tentatively to his forehead, and tried again. “Cadet 1st Class Harley Davidson, sir?” The major returned the salute with a smile. “Don’t worry too much Cadet Davidson, we have a little time to make you a polished Marine. But, I’m glad to see you’re a quick study.” The corporal informed Harley, “I am going to work with the regulars for now. The major will take you and Cadet Towner along for a special leadership course that was designed specifically with the two of you in mind.” “Yes, sir.” Harley replied. The major smiled again, and said, “Come along, cadet, we need to collect Cadet Towner before we can begin.”
         The major was a lot less stiff after they left the gym, but Harley stayed as stiff as he could as they collected Sylvia from her class.
         A sign above the door read “SPACE ENGINEERING.” Harley knew that the girls had received some different training from the boys, but this class had both boys and girls. Harley had not been given any training in this class, so he began wondering just how diverse their training had been.
          When they got to the major’s office, they were told to be seated and wait. As soon as the major left the office, Harley asked Sylvia, “What kind of training have they given you, other than the stuff we had together?” Sylvia replied, “Oh, just the usual stuff, you know, ships’ systems maintenance, troubleshooting and repair. Why, what have they got you doing?” Harley looked straight at her and said, “Nothing like that. We got a lot of quantum physics, celestial navigation, tactical logistics, control systems and gravitational theory.” They looked at each other, and Sylvia said, “Sounds like we were trained for completely different jobs.” Harley thought about this for a moment, and then replied, “Every time I think I’m getting what’s going on, they throw in a new twist. I wonder if they’ve already planned what we’ll name our grandchildren?” They both sat in silence until the major returned.

20          As Sybil picked up the assignments, she smiled, thinking back to the way she had reacted to her assignment when she first got the kids. Now I’m glad I got the chance to work with them. Without these last months to get to know the kids, she would have gone to her grave thinking she had escaped the worst fate in the known universe. Funny, how after she made her decision to join the service, she seemed to forget all the things about being a child that had been important to her. Up until then, it seemed that as the years went on, her mind reinforced the criteria she had used to convince herself that the military would save her from that fate. It had helped her attitude immensely to be assigned a teaching schedule in tactics and logistics. Once that started and she was comfortable once again in a field where she was the expert, the time passed quickly and pleasantly.
         The kids were really amazing. Even when she taught these subjects to regular recruits, there were always problems, due to laziness, arrogance, lack of interest or just plain stupidity. Not these kids though. They displayed an unbelievable amount of insight. They listened like they knew this was important, asked intelligent questions, and there wasn’t a class clown type among them.
         Besides that, once she relaxed and opened up to them, she realized they had individual personalities. Pleasant personalities. Why, it struck her now, that until she met these kids, she didn’t even think of children as real people with interests, abilities, feelings or anything that real people had, after they grew up.
         “Oh, Sybil, how you have deprived yourself! What might your life have been if you had only not misled yourself? Damn,” she whispered, “What now? Will you blubber forever because of what you have missed? No girl, that will only take up more of the precious time you have left. You have wasted too much already.” She had a meeting with the commander in a few minutes, so she put the assignments in her case, and strolled leisurely to the commander’s office.
         The clerk told her the commander was going to be a few minutes late.  She was to go into his office and entertain his other visitor. She walked into the private office, and was surprised to find an attractive young woman.
         The woman looked up at her arrival, smiling sheepishly, and said, “Oh, hello, I’m just waiting to meet with Mr. Washington. We have an appointment. The man outside said I could wait here.” Sybil cringed at the use of the civilian term. “That’s quite all right, Miss, I’m sure that Cdr. Washington will be here soon. I’m Lt. Sybil Grant, Federation training officer. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand to the pretty blonde. The woman blushed, realizing her mistake, and said, “Oh, I’m so silly, of course you use military titles here, don’t you? I’m Kitty Landon. I’m going to take care of the kiddies on the trip. Don’t you think it’s just too exciting?” She took Sybil’s hand and winced when Sybil gave her a hearty handshake. Sybil was instantly alert. Who was this charm school flake anyway? She didn’t even know Sybil, and here she was talking about the mission as if it was a Sunday afternoon excursion. How did she know Sybil was even cleared for this knowledge? “Has anyone briefed you on the secrecy we maintain in connection with our duties here?” she asked, wondering how many people were privy to this girl’s plans. (Kitty? Well, it fit.)  Kitty answered, “Oh sure, but we’re all in on it here, aren’t we?” Sybil took a deep breath and began, “Miss Landon, may I ask what are your qualifications for this position?” Kitty replied quickly, “Well, I just graduated at the top of my class, from Vassar. I have a degree in child psychology. I thought I would be a private school counselor, but when they approached me to apply for this, I thought it would be a kick! Don’t you think so? My boyfriend didn’t want me to go, but I thought it would serve him right for taking me for granted. So, I signed up. Sybil couldn’t believe what she was hearing. They’re going to put this cream puff in charge of my troops? What was going through their minds? Help us, Singe, two weeks with this little pretty, and she’d ruin all the work they had put in up until now. Worse than that, two weeks with them, and she’d be running back to Vassar to escape.
          Thankfully, she didn’t have to endure any more of this because the commander walked in. Sybil threw him a textbook salute and said, “Lt. Grant reporting ”. The commander returned her salute and said, “At ease, lieutenant,” looking at her strangely as she stood down. “Commander, this young woman is Miss Kitty Landon, She has just informed me she is here to take care of the kiddies on the trip.” She finished her statement with raised eyebrows. The commander caught the look, and the sarcasm in her voice. His expression was quizzical as he turned to meet the woman. “Miss Landon, it is a pleasure,” and he extended his hand. Kitty took his hand in a weak grip, and performed a half curtsy, replying, “Why captain, the pleasure is all mine.” The commander coughed, “Ah, that is Cdr. Washington, Miss Landon. I hope you had a pleasant journey. The girl blushed again, and put her hand in front of her smile. “I’m so sorry, Commander, I didn’t mean to demote you, but this military courtesy is so new to me. Actually sir, the trip was a nightmare. The train was so crowded and dirty. I had to get a room and clean up as soon as I got off. I imagine it will take me a week or so to get back to myself.” The commander grunted, and said to Sybil, “Well, I guess the two of you have been introduced. I think now, lieutenant, if you would bring Miss Landon to the cadets’ mess and introduce her to the troops. She can become acquainted with them and have a bite to eat, while I finish some urgent business. Come back here, lieutenant, after you have her settled in.
         I hope you find the food to your liking, Miss Landon. Good day.” As he sat behind his desk, Sybil waited for the young woman    to gather herself together. Then she led the way to the mess. As soon as they left the outer office, Kitty asked, “My, is he always so abrupt?” “Abrupt? What do you mean? He is a very busy man. Did you have a question about his instructions?” Sybil queried. “Well, no,” Kitty answered, “I just feel like I was dismissed from the principal’s office. I thought at least I would be given quarters to stay in, before I went to meet the little darlings.” Sybil had no answer to that. At least not without showing what she thought of the prima donna. So she just said, “Well, maybe you should make the best of the situation, and just try to get aquatinted with your new charges. One thing I would like to warn you about though, I wouldn’t call them kiddies if I were you. These kids have just completed a very tough twelve weeks of training as ship’s crew and the military representatives of our race. They are feeling quite good about their accomplishments right now and I don’t think they would take kindly to any patronizing at this point. Also, we wouldn’t want to undermine their confidence right now, especially since we have worked so hard to make them feel like they are adults, and an important part of this mission.” Kitty looked a little miffed, and said, “I’ll keep that in mind, lieutenant.”
         They walked into mess just as the troops were starting to eat. Sybil led Kitty to the mess line, and got her a tray. She watched as the new arrival picked her way through the line, and then took her to the head of the first table. “Where are Cadets Davidson and Towner?” she asked. Brad Metzen spoke from the head of the table; “They’re attending a special duty and protocol course today sir. May I be of assistance? Cadet Davidson put me in charge of yellow team in his absence, sir.” Kitty giggled almost uncontrollably, then said,” Oh, aren’t you little darlings. Just like real little soldiers.” She giggled once more and continued, “I just know we’ll get along fine, lieutenant. I can take over from here. Oh! They’re just so cute. Okay, boys and girls, you can call me Miss Kitty. And what should I call you now?” Sybil cringed as she left, thinking, damn, what is she going to do to my troops? Then she doubled her pace, back to the Commander’s office.


21          “We need to talk Effram. What is the idea? There is no way I’m gonna let you do this to my troops! You can put me in for court martial right now, but your not going to get away with this!”  “Whoa there, Sybil. Wait a minute. What’s got stuck in your craw now? I admit Miss Landon seems a little young, but the personnel officer assured me she was a top student. All her qualifications check out. What are you getting so excited about?” Her anger abated as she remembered to whom she was talking. She took a deep breath and related everything that had transpired since she walked into his office and met Kitty.
          Effram Washington had known Sybil for a long time. When she came into his office ranting and disdaining even informal military courtesy, he knew better than to read her out like a raw recruit. She was a professional and if she was this upset about the new arrival, he better take her seriously. Besides being a good officer, he relied on her to keep him informed of anything going on he should be aware of. So when he replied to her fears now, he tried to calm her and assure her he cared. Before long he could question her without her going off again, on him and the military in general.
         When she left the office he said, “Okay, Sybil, let me talk to the people who made the selection and find out what went wrong here. I will get back to you. Again, Sybil, don’t worry in the meantime. I promise we will get this worked out so you will not have to lose any sleep. Okay?” Sybil nodded and said, “Yes sir, Commander, and I apologize, sir, for that outburst.” Then she walked out the door mumbling under her breath.
         The commander sighed in relief as she left. “Boy, I sure wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of her in a skirmish. Now, lets see what that idiot personnel officer got me into. And what the hell kind of security do they lack over there anyway?” He picked up the phone as he thumbed through his desk file. “It’ll be a wonder if this operation ever gets off the ground!”

22          Sgt. Murdock, telephone. Line one,” the intercom blared, as Murdock banged closed the last inspection hatch. “Damned interruptions! How was a man supposed to get anything done? He had been sure this morning he would have all of the final inspection reports ready to go by quitting time. The inspections were done, but the reports hadn’t even been started. It was just one thing after another.
         He picked up the phone by the blockhouse door. “Murdock,” he said. The voice at the other end was urgent. “Murdock, where have you got planned for the Hope’s crew? “Whad’ya mean, where have I got planned?” demanded Murdock. “If you want me to put ‘em up, why not stick ‘em on the Hope?” “Put them in the Hope? Hey, that’s not a bad idea. How soon will it be fully provisioned?” Murdock thought, Hell, it’s just like the military. Well, let’s tell the left hand, what were up to over here on the right hand. “Hell, guy, this ship has been provisioned, and fully loaded for two days. We finished the final checks today. They can fly outa here tonight, far as I’m concerned.” The voice was silent for a moment, then, “Okay, Murdock, that works out. Figure on putting them on the ship. They should arrive the day after tommorrow. It’ll take two days for them to get there, okay?” “Sure” Murdock replied. “I s’pose ya want me to tuck ‘em all in too?” “That won’t be necessary, Murdock. Just don’t scare them all away, buddy. See you later.” And the connection was broken.
          “Harve!” yelled the big man. “Take these reports and do the best you can with them. I’ll pick ‘em up in the morning. I’ve got to get ready for company.” He left the paperwork with the technician, and hurried out to the tunnel.

23          Major. Charles Winston was an easygoing sort once he was sure of the people surrounding him. It was this mission! Dealing with civilians always made him uncomfortable. Lately, civilian contact had been disturbing his ordered military existence, almost daily. He thought the biggest problem was their selfishness. Military personnel were thoroughly ordered in their everyday life, as well as their career paths. They knew exactly where they stood in every conceivable situation -- what their jobs were, whom they were responsible to, and who was responsible to them. They knew what to expect from life in the service, and lived with it. Fairly happily too, because what they got from life was pretty much what they expected. Civilians, on the other hand, seemed to think having their way was somehow their birthright. When something didn’t go the way they expected it should, they complained. Even when they should have known that, the people they were complaining to have no control over the outcome. Time after time, he had told civilians orders had come down from this office, or that office, and immediately been bombarded with demands he reconsider their case, or countermand those orders. As if orders were like flexible guidelines from a soft old grandmother that you could ignore, or change to suit your personal needs. When you told a soldier orders had come down, it was, “Yes, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?” That was the end of it. Maybe that was why he liked his new job so much. Training young people to think, and act, in an orderly, specified and predictable manner was, in a way, like saving lost souls, like enriching everyone’s existence by removing another civilian nuisance from the playing field. So, when he returned to his office, he felt good. By all reports, these kids -- no strike that -- these cadets were turning into the pride of the corps. That Harley was a born leader according to the lieutenant. Charles was impressed as soon as he laid eyes on him. His eyes took in the entire auditorium within moments of his entrance. Charles had watched him survey the situation in an instant, when the guards were removing that head case, Candor. But he had kept his composure, and handled himself very well indeed, when introduced. He felt the boy instinctively knew he had left his childhood behind, and had accepted this as his destiny.
         This Sylvia Towner had been highly praised for her ability to understand the most complicated engineering schematics, and to solve some very difficult mechanical scenarios. These same scenarios had given fits to the graduating class of engineers at the most renowned technical institute in the world. Yet, she had been able to identify the cause, and determine the proper remedy after only three Homemaker seminars, and a two-and-a-half month, crash course given her at the “base camp,” as it had come to be called. Her astonishing insight had been responsible for a major design change in the life support system on the Hope. She had simply reported to her instructor one day, after being shown the schematic of the system, “I understand the need for multiple backups, sir, but shouldn’t the waste air be cycled through the hydroponics lab, as a matter of course, rather than recycled separately? Then, if something goes wrong with the atmosphere in either the lab or the ship’s supply area in life support, they could each be contained separately, and a backup air supply could be maintained. Only in case of catastrophe, of course.” Well, you can imagine the chagrin of the designers, when the schematic was sent back with the changes penciled in by a student in the camper program.
         Harley and Sylvia sat quietly while the Major took a seat behind his desk. “Cadets, I bet you both have some questions. Everything we have done in the past twelve weeks was pretty well preplanned. You have not been given much voice in your training or your social activities. The time has come for this to change. You have done an excellent job of all that was asked of you. You have done so without the kind of social, emotional or psychological problems one would tend to associate with a group of your age. Your seriousness and dedication, thus far, have allowed us to change our plans. We would like to get some input from you on how you see yourselves living aboard the Hope. We think if you have any ideas about changes that might be made when planning this long journey, we might do well to hear you out.
          In case you haven’t got the idea yet, you two have been selected as the two most likely to succeed as it were. The testing and the observations of your instructors has only confirmed our original choice. If all goes as planned, by the time you reach the Effrates system, you will have taken your places as captain and chief engineer of the Hope’s mission. You will have ample time to prepare for this responsibility during the trip out. How you perceive the mission will change over the years, and as you change, we hope there will be regular discussions, the idea being, not to forget about the plight of those of us who remain behind. Remember always, you are the only hope left for all of the people who have worked so hard to make your mission possible.
         Now, keep in mind I have not forgotten that you have questions. But I want you to go wherever you can study together, read your materials and discuss them as to how they will apply to you. Then I want you to study this part of the master plan for long-term space flight, and discuss any changes you think might improve the plan. Finally, I want you to read this history of the “big jump” before we speak again.” He handed both the master plan and the history disks to Harley, and said, “Is that clear, cadet?”  “Yes, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?” Harley replied, as Sylvia said “Yes, sir.” The major smiled broadly and replied, “No, that will be all. Dismissed.” The two rose saluting as they stood. The major returned their salutes and the cadets marched swiftly out of his office.
         The major smiled again as he watched their departure. Yes, he thought, this was definitely the way that things should be.

24             “After all, lieutenant, it’s not like we have months left to search. I mean lift off is scheduled for three days from today. Even if we found someone else, we wouldn’t have time to train or observe the new person. At least we know that Miss Landon isn’t a pedophile or anything dangerous. After a few months experience with a military operation, she could come around. You yourself said she seemed genuinely excited about the journey.” The commander was almost pleading with her to accept the young woman, even though he knew she was right. It would have seemed funny if the outcome didn’t strike her as so thoroughly wrong. She almost agreed, but a picture of the woman standing at the head of the mess table, cooing about how the “little darlings” were “just like real little soldiers” ran through her mind and she couldn’t go through with it. “Commander, you may be right about her eventually coming around. But I don’t see how you can take the chance that she would instead fight every effort to become a proper tool for molding this elite military corps. Honestly, sir, do you see this woman as anything approaching the kind of person to guide and advise these cadets during their maturation and training? Sir, I’m afraid I wouldn’t even trust her to handle the kind of natural problems one might expect of youngsters entering puberty.” The commander looked at her closely. This last statement had gotten his attention. Sybil knew if she lost him now, she would not get another chance, so she pressed on. “Look, Commander, there is still space on the ship. If you could even assign someone to go along to train and advise her, I would feel like we weren’t just abandoning the kid’s needs to get the mission going on time. I mean at least there would be some kind of control in place.” The commander hid a slight smile, as he held his chin in his hand. This gave him the appearance of being lost in concentration.
         After several moments, he looked at Sybil very seriously, and replied, “You may have a valid point, Lieutenant, so I’m going to offer you a kind of compromise. I still don’t have the time to initiate a search to find a suitable officer, make the offer, and bring whoever is found up to date on all aspects of the cadets’ training. As far as that goes, I’m really not comfortable with the amount of training Miss Landon has been given in that regard. But there is someone right here who would fit the bill if only they could be talked into taking the assignment. It would, of course, have to be on a strictly volunteer basis.” Sybil looked hopefully at the senior officer. “That would satisfy me, Commander. When do you think we could have their answer? I could start a search on my own in the meantime.” The commander replied, “Well, I don’t know, Sybil. How long would you need to make up your mind?”
         Sybil nearly fell out of her chair. She looked at the commander as though she thought he was playing a practical joke on her, and she wasn’t laughing. “You can’t mean me, Commander. Why, I haven’t even been checked out for space. We don’t even know if I could handle weightlessness.” The commander could feel the purse tightening at the top of his net. He almost had her, but he still needed to pull the net in. “Well, Sybil, I’ve explained my dilemma. I’m afraid you are the only choice I have. Now, this is the deal? If you will agree to go, I’ll authorize the space. We can test you for weightlessness and physical condition tomorrow. But if you refuse, the mission goes as originally planned. That’s it. Take it or leave it.” Sybil was stunned! How could she go? How could the commander put her in this position? “Ahh, do you think I could sleep on it for the night, sir?” “Yes. Yes, of course, Sybil. I’ll expect your decision first thing in the morning though, and I’m going to set up the tests for tomorrow, just in case. Go ahead now, and think about it. Dismissed.”
         Sybil was dazed as she left the commander’s office, and started wandering toward her room. The commander smiled as she left, thinking about how worried he had been, when he arranged for the tests, last night. Now, however, he was confident of the lieutenant’s answer.
25          Harley awoke and looked immediately to the clock next to his bunk. He was anxious as a ten-year-old waking for a family vacation. Well, why not, he thought, as he rolled out and headed for the fresher. Today was the day, they all left for London. His study time with Sylvia had gone quickly, but they had talked until midnight last night. The journey plan, as they now referred to it, was in its final form, changed only slightly from it’s original version, but both of them were now thoroughly familiarized with every detail. The commander had grilled them for two hours that first morning, then assigned further research, on several subjects. They had started to learn to work with each other right away. Kinda like they were on the same wavelength, at times, making comments at the same time, only to look at each other and laugh, because they were saying the same things. She really knew her stuff, though, thought Harley. I’m sure glad they found her. They had talked about going to the ship. Both agreed that since this was going to be the first time any of the people outside home base would see the cadets who were going to be trusted with the fruits of all their efforts, they should make a good showing. That was why he was up and ready at 4:30 a.m. They decided that a, sort of, training session was in order to let the troops know what was expected of them. They also wanted to spend a little time brushing up on their close order drill. “After all, they should look like what they were supposed to be, right? Marine Space Cadets!” The only way they could make time was to call the assembly at 5 a.m.
          He felt like whistling as he walked to the gym but thought better of it as he noticed how quiet it was in the hallway. He made the last turn, before the gym when he saw Lt. Grant standing at the gym entrance. He stopped to salute, hoping that nothing had gone wrong, when she said, “At ease, cadet. I heard what you were doing this morning. I thought I better meet you here.” Harley must have looked like he just lost his puppy, because she laughed and said, “Oh, don’t get all worried. I didn’t come to take over your meeting. It’s only right for you to get your troops in line before you depart. I just thought if you’re going to act like a leader, you ought to look like one as well.” Just then Sylvia arrived. Both Sybil and Harley greeted her warmly, dispelling her fears of some kind of hitch in the preparations. Then Sybil took control. “Now have either of you thought about how anyone watching you lead your troops is going to be able to tell you from the troops?” They looked at each other baffled by the question, and Harley asked, “Well, isn’t the 1st class cadet insignia what tells ‘em?” Sybil looked at him sternly. “Well now, son, that’s fine for the ship’s crew and troops, but for formal occasions, that will never do.” The cadets didn’t quite know how to respond. They just stood there looking at each other and the lieutenant. “Hrumph,” she grunted, “Alright then, it’s got to be the old tactics division to the rescue, again.” Then she reached behind the gymnasium door and retrieved two new military dress covers, handing them to the platoon leaders, saying, “Well, If I’m going to go along on this fiasco, I’ll not have my troops embarrass the corps, due to inappropriate attire. Not if I have anything to say about it!” Both cadets took the headgear with large smiles. Then the significance of the lieutenant’s words sunk in. “Going along?” shouted Harley, as Sylvia grabbed the officer in a very unmilitary embrace. They all talked at once, then once again, Sybil became the pseudo-stern officer, and played down her own role, “Now, let’s not go on about an old combat tactician, who just found that the planet could do without her services at home. It’s time for your troops to arrive, and I’ve got a lot of things to clear up before this afternoon. So get to it now, and make us all proud of you on the trip to London.” With that, she threw them a smart salute, and walked swiftly away from the gym. Harley and Sylvia looked away, at the same time. Harley could have sworn he noticed a bit of moisture in the lieutenant’s eyes as she hurried away.
         Sylvia said wonderingly, “Well, what do you know? That crusty old soldier is just a pussycat under that bluff and bravado. What next? The sun turns blue? Then the cadets were arriving, and all thoughts turned to the mission at hand.
           The assembly had gone well with only a few missteps, and the troops were all anxious to be on their way. Harley got his gear together, and wrote his parents a long letter, trying to say all of the things he felt as he prepared to leave. It was much harder now that he was leaving. He was going to be gone for a long time, and he didn’t think he would ever see them again. When that thought first hit him, he almost wanted to give it all up, but he got through it. This was the best thing he could dream of, and he just couldn’t miss out on it.

26          They had arranged more busloads of kids today, but these kids were going to spend the night, as the cadets were taking their buses out of home base. The buses were fueled, and ready to go when Harley arrived at the garage. He formed the cadets who had already arrived into a single line and told them to “Stand at ease until the rest show up.” When the troops were at full strength, he had them pack into the buses and take seats. The buses were crowded, but they only had to ride as far as the docks where they would transfer to a waiting submarine. All of the troops were excited as none had ever been inside a submersible craft of any kind before. They only carried what they could fit into their pockets as their gear was coming after them in a separate transport. The ride went quickly. Before they even got settled, they were unloading at the docks. A naval officer greeted them as they debarked and spent a few minutes briefing them on shipboard etiquette. Then he told them to follow him, and Harley went into action. He formed the column, and marched them after the officer, just like a platoon of well-trained regulars. The officer looked surprised, as Harley turned them smartly onto the gangplank and ordered them to “fall in below decks.” He turned to the young man and said “Cadet Davidson, isn’t it?” “If your troops are as well disciplined as they appear, this won’t be near as long a trip as I had anticipated.” Harley stood at attention and replied, “You wont have any trouble with them, sir. They are marine cadets.” The ensign looked dubious, but said “Very well, then let’s go aboard and make weigh.”
         After the cadets were assigned quarters, they were allowed to go ten at a time to the observation deck and watch until the order was given to submerge. After that, there wasn’t much to do, or see, until they made port. So Harley spent a lot of time reading or talking with Sylvia.
         Only one of the cadets had trouble with seasickness, even he was much better after they got to open sea. The trip passed uneventfully, and they were mostly just bored by the time they reached the British Isles.
         Once again, they boarded a bus and were taken to a small factory just outside of London. After the sub, the cadets were ready to get in a little exercise, but they were taken into the factory right away, and led to a long tunnel beneath the surface. At the opening to the tunnel were several small cars with long flatbeds connected to the rear of each. The cadets were loaded onto the flatbeds, and taken for a long ride through several sections of an underground system. There, at the end of their ride, was the large door that would give them the first glimpse of their new home. They lined up at the doorway, and waited for the ensign to trigger the lock mechanism.
          As soon as the door opened, the troops were greeted by, of all people, their families! The military air the troops had been maintaining for the long trip dissolved, as they realized who the crowds of waiting visitors were. They moved toward their folks, almost as one, shouting and laughing as they ran. Lt. Grant was among the visitors, smiling at the unmilitary display and wondering why. It had been the commander’s idea, but she thought she liked it anyway. She had not cared for the commander’s recent ideas very much. She still wasn’t sure why she had agreed to go along, but at least she wasn’t leaving anyone dear, like these cadets were. “Well, this was the last time they would have with their families, and she wasn’t going to spoil their happiness this time, even for decorum.”
    The troops spent the evening with the visitors. After a tearful sendoff, the cadets were shown their ship’s quarters, and allowed to settle in. Harley was impressed with his cabin. It was just off the male bunkroom where the lines of racks were all visible to him as soon as he opened his cabin door. Sylvia’s cabin was in the same place, off the female bunkroom. These quarters would be theirs until they were about five years into the trip. This was ideal for keeping an eye on some of the more adventurous cadets. Also included in the cabins were, private freshers, desks, comm units, and actual closets.
         Their first look at the ship had been when the parents surprised them at the tunnel doors. They got a better look after the commotion died down. All of the cadets were awestruck. The sheer size of it would have dwarfed the factory if eighty percent of the construction weren’t under ground level.
         The mess for the cadets was down one level on the fourth level inboard, from the outer hull. The outer two levels were escape pods, exercise areas and surplus stores, respectively. The reactor cores, life-support systems, recycling systems and power storage facilities were at the center of the ship with the hydroponics farm wrapped around them. This allowed the zero gravity sections of the ship to serve as low-maintenance areas, and provided one standard gravity at the outer hull. Growing their foodstuffs at eight hundredths of a standard gravity would produce large fruits and vegetables in a fraction of the time it took on Terra. It also provided the densest mass at the center of the spinning ship in close to zero g. The storage areas near the outer hull carrying the bulk of their supplies would spin at the fastest rate, creating a strong gyro effect for attitude stabilization. The hydroponics deck was shared with the animal husbandry facility. This arraignment would also allow for the fatting of the food stock at a much-increased rate. Harley was more impressed all the time. Yes, he was going to like his new home. He went to sleep that night, and dreamt of flying through the strange environments of a conglomerate of conceived worlds. Some he had seen on tri-dees, and some that were the product of his own active imagination. In the morning, he awoke with a renewed sense of adventure, and an eagerness to get on with it.

27          Scott Murdock was pleased. He was set for a troublesome day when he arrived at the launch site, as it was now being called. But these kids were remarkably well behaved, and as far as he could tell, they knew what they were doing and were anxious to get on with it. The kid that was in charge of the group, cadets, he had heard them called, was just like a little wharf master shouting orders, and directing the movement of goods to storage or work areas.
         He had seen them moving some of the bigger stuff his crew had secured for lift-off. He was concerned they would ruin his carefully planned distribution of weight, and affect the lift-off trajectory. He hurried to the boy in charge, and began to complain, but the boy simply said, “I hope you don’t mind, sir. Cadet Towner was going through the inventory storage chart this morning, and discovered that if the replacement parts and tool cages were moved forward in the “H” section hold, the load would be more equally lateral, while giving us more room where we need it for the retooling shop and for onboard repairs.” He had handed Murdock the charts with the changes marked in red.
         Murdock took the information and scanned it quickly, thinking, Oh no, what have they gotten into now? It took him about two minutes to refigure the weights and mass of the recorded changes. Then he took another look just to be sure. Well I’ll be damned! These changes did look better than the scheme he had Okayed on the original chart. “How the hell did these kids figure that out by simply looking at the plan?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, sir. Cadet Towner always seems to come up with a more efficient way to do things than the normal course. We just try to take it in stride and thank Singe that we’ve got her.” With that he excused himself and went back to issuing orders to the cadets. Murdock stood back and watched for a while before deciding he could use a crew of kids like these. He wondered if there were any left out of the original possibilities, who were available now.

28    By noon, the bird was ready to fly. The pre-flight checklists were started, and the countdown was begun at takeoff minus sixteen hours. If all went well, the ship would fly at 4 a.m. the following day. The flight crew would see the ship into deep space, then revert to their shipboard occupations of teachers, maintenance workers, medical personnel and caretakers until the cadets were old enough and trained enough to take over these responsibilities.
         Eventually, the cadet’s current quarters would be turned into a nursery as it was assumed that some of the cadets, as they matured, would pair off and produce their own offspring. Murdock entertained the thought, as he had many times before, that if he lived long enough to see the hoped-for return of the rescue mission, he would probably be greeting the next generation of Terrans born and raised in deep space having never seen the planet of their origin. As always, this spurred the fear that Terra might not be able to hold off the Bugs long enough to see the return of Hope II. An instant later, he brushed the thought from his mind, as the idea of losing was counterproductive. All of the people remaining behind would need to concentrate on what was needed to survive until the help they so desperately needed arrived.
          It was going to be a long night. Murdock walked to the coffee pot behind his observation seat in the blockhouse. He poured coffee, as he watched the countdown on the panel above the electronics screens. Well, he thought, this is it. If we get this thing off in the morning we’ll have nothing to do but hold on ‘til the Bugs take control or the mission returns. At least the Bugs hadn’t caught on so far. He walked back to his seat and looked over the technicians’ screens, sipping his coffee, as the time grew nearer and nearer to launch.

29          The cadets would strap in at 3:30 a.m. They would not eat until the Hope was accelerating past the outer planets. This would give them a chance to get used to the change between the heavy g of lift-off and the lighter g of acceleration in space. Hopefully, they could get any queasy stomachs settled by then. Harley was trying to get a little sleep before he had to strap in for the lift. There wouldn’t be any sleeping for at least twenty hours after lift, and he wanted to be as sharp as he could then. The cabin had seemed so comfortable earlier when he was stowing his gear. Now he wondered how he would keep from going stir-crazy in the next five years. The rack seemed to be full of lumps, the walls were closing in, and the hum of machinery around the ship seemed deafening. He tossed and turned, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position, but the racing of his thoughts kept anything from working. Great, he thought, I’m gonna be in fine shape by reveille. He was just staring at the comm unit light blinking on the wall and then the cabin speaker was announcing thirty minutes to strap down.
          He didn’t remember falling asleep, but the crud at the junction of his eyes and nose told him he must have slept for quite a while. He jumped out of his rack and started getting ready. The butterflies were already wide-awake and flying around in his gut. He dressed quickly and made the small bed.
         Leaving the cabin, he found the cadets on his side dressed and waiting for him. He formed the unit and marched them down the corridor to the turbo lift. They took the lift down, ten at a time, to the third level from the center of the ship, where the lift couches were installed on gimbals to cushion them as much as possible during the takeoff. These would be removed and stored after the ship reached maximum velocity. This area would then assume its normal function as sickbay. The gravity at this level would only be about .4 standard g, the idea being that medical problems would respond to treatment better at low g. Making sure all of the cadets were secured in the couches, along with all other non-essential personnel, Harley and Sylvia left together for their respective stations. Sylvia would observe the engineering crew as they performed their duties. Harley had a couch on the bridge. He would observe the flight crew and assist the captain, if there were problems. The planners of the mission had decided that the cadets would probably be the captain and chief engineers by the time they reached their destination. They should begin to learn as much as they could right from the start. After all, they wouldn’t be able to observe another lift until the return trip; and by then the original crew might not even be around.
          Harley wished Sylvia well, as they split up at the engineering deck where she got off the lift. He rode up two more levels before getting off, and walked the rest of the way to the bridge.

30          The bridge crew acknowledged his arrival quietly, and then returned to their jobs. The moment Harley had been dreading had arrived. He walked up to the captain to get it over with. “Cadet 1st Class Harley Davidson reporting for duty, sir.” he declared as he held his salute in front of Capt. Thomas Condor. The captain looked at him as he returned the salute and said, “At ease, cadet. I’m pleased to finally meet you Davidson, I’ve heard a lot of good things about you. Welcome aboard.” Harley released his salute with a sigh of relief, not loud enough for the captain to hear. He had been plenty worried about how the captain would respond to him ever since they got the names of the flight crew. Capt. Condor was the father of the cadet who washed out of the program. It was pretty obvious the cadet had assumed he would be in Harley’s place now. If the captain felt any animosity toward Harley now, it was not apparent in his demeanor. The captain was smiling and speaking in a very friendly manner as he told Harley, “The rest of the crew has already strapped down, Davidson. Only you and I left. Shall we?” Harley responded, “Yes, sir.” They took their positions next to each other in front of the main viewscreen.
          As Harley strapped in, he couldn’t help noticing the bridge looked much different now with the crew in place. All the screens were blinking and beeping. He could feel the anxiety in the room as the crewmembers reported the status of the ship’s systems. Harley put on the headset connected to the side of his command seat and could hear the voices of the blockhouse crew reporting the launch conditions and readiness status of the external systems. They sounded so calm and businesslike that they had a calming affect on him. He listened to the chatter of the bridge crew again and thought they too sounded less tense as the soothing voices from outside repeated, “Systems all green and go for launch.” Looking over at the captain, Harley thought, He doesn’t look like he has a care in the world. He decided that was the way he wanted the cadets to see him.
         He took a deep breath and tried to affect a relaxed posture. He noted the med readings on the bottom of the control console beside his armrest. The readings for blood pressure and heart rate were slightly elevated from normal, but they were slowly dropping as he practiced deep breathing to steady himself.
          He was stunned when the voice in the headset reported, “All systems go for launch in two minutes and counting.” This was it, he thought, as the captain turned to him and said, “Swallow anything in your mouth now son and hold your teeth together when the count gets to ten seconds. We don’t want to bite our tongues off, in case we need them to talk with, right?” Harley managed a small smile as he did what he was told.
         When the voice sounded the “Booster pack lit” signal he braced for the expected pressure of lift-off, but nothing happened. He looked at the viewscreen for some sign of trouble, but saw the tops of the cranes sliding by beside them and remembered that the acceleration would take a while to be felt.
         Twenty seconds later the skin on his face felt like it was trying to switch places with his ears and his body was sinking into the acceleration couch. He thought he would be lost in the cushions. He felt tingling in his hands and his eyes felt like someone was trying to push them into his skull. His sight had just begun to waver when a jolt went through the ship and a mechanical voice announced, “Booster pack separation and main engine ignition accomplished.” At the same time the pressure of the main engine boost could still be felt, but the ship had broken free of the planet’s gravitational well and the extreme force of lift-off was gone.
         The captain was the first to react, ordering aft sensor reports. The sensor readings were displayed on the main screen and showed nothing out of the ordinary. If the Santeen had observed anything other than the decoy ship’s departure, they would become visible as soon as they breached the planet’s horizon. There would be no communications with the planet now. If the Bugs figured out what was happening, the only way they would know is when they saw the huge starcraft coming after them. The decoy ship was heading directly away from the planet in the opposite direction. They wouldn’t even know what happened to it before they were out of sensor range of the planet and the Santeen. The tenseness of the preflight countdown was nothing compared to the electricity he could feel now, with every eye on the bridge watching for any sign of pursuit.
         The full-power boost of the main engines was increasing their speed exponentially, every minute, as they accelerated away from their native home.
          “Communications reports a message received from long range captain,” reported the bridge comm officer. “The Bugs have ordered the decoy to halt and prepare to be boarded -- or be destroyed, sir.” “Good, let’s hope that keeps ‘em busy long enough to fade out of sensor range,” replied the ship’s senior officer.
          In another two minutes the Hope’s sensors could no longer reach the planet’s horizon with any acuity, and the entire crew responded by exhaling the breath they had been holding fearfully. The atmosphere on the bridge slowly changed from electric to a sort of calm like that just before a storm. Capt. Condor released his restraining straps and got up from his couch. “Alright, troops, we’ve only got about thirty-six years. Let’s get started putting life together on board. Cadet Davidson, I expect you will want to check on your troops, but I want you back on the bridge in time to start the ship to spin. I don’t want anybody out of strap down until full spin is achieved. Is that clear?” “Yes, sir, understood,” was all Harley could manage, as he unstrapped and headed for the sick bay.
         The moment he left the bridge he had to reorient himself as the bridge was centered on gimbals, which swung the floor toward the back of the ship during acceleration. The same thing happened to the cadets’ lift-off couches. But the floors of the ship were facing out from the center, and would not feel like floors until the ship was put into spin. For now, Harley felt as though he was going to be pulled back to Terra. He tried to stop his fall to the bottom of the ship by using the handrails that lined the passageways.  As he allowed himself to be pulled toward the lifts, he started trembling all over and had to lean against the corridor wall to get his muscles under control again. He was glad that didn’t happen ‘til he got off the bridge. There wasn’t anyone to see his lapse, thank Singe.
         Feeling a little steadier, he continued to the sick bay hoping everything had gone well there. When he came to the rows of couches, he saw that no one had gotten up or appeared to be in any difficulty. That was good. No one had passed out, or at least, if they had, they were okay now. They were all trying to ask him what was up at the same time. Using one of the cables that had been strung between the walls in the sick bay, he was able to make his way over to the couch where Lt. Grant was strapped in. He announced, “The takeoff went off without a hitch and the last we know, the Santeen were busy trying to deal with the decoy ship. Think we’ll probably be able to get away. At least we saw no sign of pursuit before we went out of sensor range.” Cheers went up at that and Harley felt good about the cadets’ attitude as he sat on the side of the lieutenant’s couch. “Looks like we’ve got about five and a half hours to wait ‘til we can unstrap, Lieutenant,” he said. “The captain doesn’t want anyone up before we get to full spin.” Sybil gave him a ten-gallon grin, and replied, “When your troops are a little better seasoned, cadet, you will all learn to enjoy your enforced rest breaks when and where you can. Just consider this a nice job when you’re on duty. Harley grinned, too, and said, “We’re surely glad you decided to come with us, Lieutenant.” Then he stood to check on the cargo before he had to be back on the bridge.

31          Back at the blockhouse the pad crew of the Hope was monitoring the decoy ship, now that Hope was out of sensor range. The Santeen ship was alongside the decoy, but for some reason they were slow in moving on the dummy ship. A call came in and Murdock answered. After several moments listening, he hung up the receiver and grinned at his crew. “Well, boys, it seems some sharpie in Terra Prime had the idea to equip the decoy with an artillery cannon resembling a huge copy of the Bugs’ energy cannons and a comm unit transmitting a warning to the Santeen ship to “stand off or be destroyed.” They’re not sure what to do. A general laughter permeated the blockhouse and the word was spread by intercom to the rest of the facility.
         The standoff went on for almost an hour before the Santeen starcraft fired upon the mock Terran craft. Then the jury-rigged shields held just long enough for the decoy to fire one projectile at the enemy ship. Planet side, observatories recorded the hit and the pictures showed a hole, just above what the tacticians had determined was the space-drive control station, big enough to drive a tank through. If that didn’t disable the ship’s space-drive, it at least would cause major problems for a while. If nothing else, it would be a major irritation if they were to try to pursue the Hope.
          The celebrations of the planetary forces were short-lived; however, as the enemy ship retaliated with an energy beam that demolished the decoy launch site in an instant. The site, of course, had been cleared as soon as the decoy was launched, but the attack was a strong reminder of what the Santeen were capable of if they decided to forego their current strategy of suppression and commence an all out attack. As sobering as the attack was, the people who knew about the mission felt, for the first time in their lives, the end of their struggles were a real possibility.                           

32          The rest of the trip beyond the outer planets was uneventful.  Harley returned to the bridge just as the klaxon sounded, for the initiation of spin. He strapped in beside the captain and waited with the crew for the automatic systems to complete their cycles and provide a stable atmosphere within the Hope.
         The systems were making adjustments to the air pressure, climate and oxygen levels, as well as putting the ship into spin to provide gravity to the floors. Five hours later the captain announced, “Full spin is accomplished. All personnel to your duty stations.” He turned to Harley and ordered, “Cadet Davidson, please inform Lt. Grant and Miss Landon they may start the cadet’s space-time preparations now.” Harley unstrapped again and walked to the shipwide comm unit where he announced the new orders. He wished he could be down there with them now, but he knew that the captain would release him when he was ready.
         When he returned to his command couch, Capt. Condor addressed him again, saying, “Cadet, from now on, I want you to spend at least three hours per day on the bridge. Usually, I will have you here with Lt. Cdr. Swanson for your pilot training, but there will be times when I will have you here on my watch. Make the appropriate arrangements with your instructors and immediate superiors. Also, I think it’s time for you to consider whom you will assign as your assistant. You may consider cadets from both teams, but I suggest you check with Cadet Towner, as she will be looking for one as well. You are dismissed for the present, but be prepared to check with Lt. Cdr. Swanson as to what time she wants you to be on the bridge from now on.” Harley saluted the captain, and responded, “Yes, sir.” He walked once again out of the bridge, feeling quite good about the walk to the lifts this time. The floors were once again acting like floors, even though they used to be the walls.
32          By the time he reached the sick bay, Lt. Grant had the cadets removing the lift couches from the floor and carrying them to the cargo holds. They would be reinstalled in the auditorium after the sick bay was operational. Harley pitched right in and started carrying couches with the yellow team, as Sylvia had her blue team removing them from the floor. He was surprised at how light they were in the reduced gravity of the sick bay. As he carried his couch onto the lift and began the ascent to the cargo hold level, the couch became so heavy he could no longer carry it by himself.
          When the lift door opened onto the cargo level, he found his team struggling to drag the seats across the corridor to the cargo hold doors. The cadets and the couches were so tightly packed in the hallway no one could get past the cargo door. Harley looked around for just a moment before spotting a cadet near the front of the traffic jam arguing with another cadet about who was going to go through first. He started climbing over the mass of couches in an effort to reach the squabbling cadets. As he approached the two, he overheard part of the argument.
         Cadet Herrerra was saying,“Come on, Wes, we can’t move these couches ourselves. We need to double-up on them and clear the corridor before any more come up.” Wesley Harmon, on the other hand, was arguing that if Manuel Herrerra would just get his couch out of the way, he would be able to get his own couch into the hold without any help. Harley arrived just before the two cadets could start throwing punches and said, “Alright, cadets, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Cadet Harmon, get in front of this seat and lift one end. Cadet Herrerra, get in back and the two of you carry it to the hold. When you get done with that, come back here and carry another. The rest of you split into teams of two and do the same thing. We’ll settle this argument when the work is done.” The cadets all responded and the mess was cleared up in a matter of minutes.
         When they got back to the lifts, Harley pointed to the two combatants and said, “You two, report to the yellow team barracks and stay there until I get back. The rest of you, lets go finish this job before they send someone looking for us.”
         It took only three more trips to complete the move.  Harley told the cadets to go to the sick bay and report to Lt. Grant to see if she needed any further assistance. He went to the barracks to confront the two. He couldn’t believe they were fighting already. Then he remembered that Cadet Harmon was always trying to show off how strong he was; and kind of belligerent about his ability to do anything by himself, whenever someone tried to help him. Herrerra, on the other hand, was quiet and more steady. Harley recalled that the cadet was usually among those who were trying to help others, during the same kind of situations.
          He came to the barracks and saw the two cadets sitting on their bunks. Herrerra was trying to talk to the bigger Harmon, but the other cadet was simply scowling back at him, ignoring what was being said. Harley took control right away, saying, “Okay, you guys, one at a time now. Cadet Harmon, what was your problem up there?” Wesley Harmon was already in a very defensive posture as he replied, “Sir, this guy couldn’t handle the couch. He wanted me to help him carry his. I can carry a couch by myself. I figured, why should I slow down when I could just keep going and get more work done faster than if I had to help the weaker ones with theirs. They should have split up themselves and helped each other. That would have let us who could handle the job, keep going and get the work done faster.”
         “Cadet Herrerra, what do you have to say about that”? asked Harley. “Sir, maybe Cadet Harmon was right. I just thought this was a team effort. If some of us weren’t strong enough to carry the couches in the higher g of the outer levels, we should double up on them and get the corridor cleared before more couches came up the lift and made the problem even worse.” Harley considered both answers for a moment, then responded, “Look, Manuel, I think you had the right idea. I want to talk with you in my cabin later. Wesley, I’m only going to tell you this once. I want you to listen closely. This was a team effort. If, and when we ever get to the Effrates system, we may run into any and all kinds of problems. I want to know my troops are working as a team and helping each other, whenever they need to. You are a very strong person, probably stronger than any other cadet on the mission. That will be very valuable to us in times to come. But believe me, when I tell you there will be times when even your strength will not be enough to do what needs to be done, and you will want help from your teammates to do the job. We are all spacers now. If we learn to work together as a unit, we may just be able to accomplish the thing we were sent to do. If we don’t, do you even want to think about failing?” Wesley hung his head and responded, “No, sir, I sure don’t. You’re right, sir. You won’t have any problems like this with me again.” then he looked at Cadet Herrerra and said, “Look, Manuel, I’m sorry, you were right. I hope we can be a team. I promise I will try very hard from now on to help the other cadets whenever I can.” Manuel said, “I know you’re a good person, Wes. I think your gonna make a fine space cadet.” Both cadets smiled and shook hands. Then Harley said, “Good, I hoped it would work out this way. Go ahead and catch up with the rest of the team now, Wes, I will be along as soon as we are done here.”                             
         Most of Harley’s life he had not had to make many decisions for himself. His parents and teachers had pretty much told him the way things were to be done or what to do in most situations. Maybe that was why he liked being the team captain in sports or the times he was picked as team leader on the camping trips. He enjoyed making decisions and felt good when he was recognized for making the right ones. But this platoon leader job was different. He worried every time he had to choose, whether determining what instructions to give at assemblies or sorting out the details in a conflict between cadets. That was why he was worried now. He was going to ask Manuel to be his assistant and he didn’t want to be wrong. The decisions he made now all seemed so much more important than the simple ones before the cadets.
         Manuel Herrera was so excited that for a moment he couldn’t respond, when Harley asked him to serve as his assistant. In fact, for a short time, Harley was sure the cadet was going to faint or at least cry. When he finally got his emotions under control, he said to Harley, “Sir, I would be most pleased to assist you in any way I can. You can count on me!” Harley told him he was sure he had made the right choice. And he really was. Manuel thanked him effusively as they left the cabin. Harley felt good once more about making the right decision.
         The rest of the first day was spent with the cadets assisting the regular crewmembers in setting up the sick bay, tool and die shops, classrooms, auditorium, gymnasium and stocking the stores and hard inventories where they belonged. The cadets were all kept so busy that by the time the work was done, they could barely get through their meal without falling asleep. Lt. Grant announced that because of the long day, the cadets were going to be privileged with the next morning off. The crew was so tired that a weak cheer was all they could manage before they wandered off to their racks and collapsed into slumber.
                                                                                             
33          Two and a half years had past since the launch of the Hope II and the trip out had thus far gone about as expected. The cadets had performed well above the planner’s expectations. Beyond that, the routine of shipboard life had followed the predictions of the planners almost to the letter. Until today, that is! 1st Lt. Harley Davidson had just celebrated his thirteenth birthday at the morning meal. 1rst Lt. Sylvia Towner approached him as he was leaving the officers’ mess. “Harley, could you get away this morning and meet me in the tool and die shop?” she whispered. Sylvia was an outspoken person most of the time. Harley had never seen her whispering and acting so secretive. Rather than demand an explanation, he decided to see what was the problem first. “Okay,” he responded, “Just give me time to get Manuel to cover for me in the staff meeting; then I’ll be right down.” Sylvia thanked him in a whisper then hurried away before he could ask any more questions.
         Harley had made a lot of friends onboard among the cadets as well as the crew, but his relationship with the young engineering genius had grown to mean more to him than any others. She made him feel comfortable when she was around and they could talk to each other about anything that was bothering them. He supposed part of that was due to the responsibility they shared in charge of the two teams of cadets. He knew it was also more than just that. They would spend time together helping each other on projects and assignments, just because they liked being together. He knew there was talk among the teams that linked them as more than just friends, but he didn’t think there was anything to it. Just talk. He didn’t really care. If they wanted to have something to gossip about, that was fine. He didn’t see anything wrong in being linked with the smartest person on the ship. Also, working with Sylvia on some of her pet projects had forced him to learn more about engineering than he would ever have learned from his classes. He had to, just so he could understand what she was trying to do. Was that it maybe? Had she gotten herself into some kind of trouble with those crazy gravitronics experiments she had been working on? Well, he’d find out soon enough.
         Manuel was happy to help as usual. Harley arranged to meet him again just before he went to the bridge for his afternoon watch, and then hurried off to the shop.

34    The shop was deserted when he arrived, as was usual unless a part needed to be fabricated or repaired. Sylvia usually had the place to herself to work on whatever had her attention at the time. But even Sylvia wasn’t around now. Harley wondered where she had gotten off to. It wasn’t like her to ask him down here to meet, then not show up. He was just starting to worry, when she walked through the door and shut the hatch dogging it behind her. This too was unusual as the hatch was always open when she worked.
         “Follow me,” she urged, as she walked to the far side of the shop pulling a small chip from her shop coat pocket. Harley followed, his curiosity getting the better of him now. Sylvia was inserting the chip into a power allocation station underneath the workbench. Then she lifted one end of a box with a dish of some sort pointing away from the box. “Help me get this to the hoist,” she grunted. Harley lifted the other end of the box and they carried it to the hoist where she hooked a chain to the bottom of the device. “What the heck are we doing, Syl’? Harley couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. “Just watch and you’ll see,” Sylvia replied, as she moved a large cart underneath the hanging device. She hit the button on the hoist control and raised the box about five meters off the floor. Then she pointed to the cart and said, “See the ingot in the cart’? Harley shook his head, still bewildered by her behavior, but willing to watch as she continued. “Now look at the scale on the top of the hoist’. Harley looked up and saw the reading on the scale. “Yeah, okay, so the chain, hook and box weigh thirty-five kilos. So what, Syl?” “Just watch this,” she said as she plugged the power cord from the box into the power allocation station. She grabbed the power control switch that was midway along the power cord and said, “That ingot weighs 250 kilos. Watch it as I turn on the power.” She turned the control switch increasing the power to the box and the ingot began to rise in the air along with the cart. They rose to a level halfway between the floor and the box and hung there suspended. Harley was getting a little tired of the game now and said, “Okay, Syl, you’ve made a powerful electromagnet. Why all the secrecy?” “Not quite, Harley, read the scale now.” Once again, Harley looked up at the scale and read thirty-five kilos “Wait a minute, Syl, this can’t be right. We know the reading was thirty-five before. If the ingot weighs 250, it should read at least 285 now, plus the weight of the cart!” “Exactly,” Sylvia beamed. “Don’t you understand what this means?” “Ah, the scale is broken?” Harley tried. “Arrgh!” Sylvia scowled, “Haven’t you been paying any attention during our talks? This proves my theory about being able to generate an artificial gravity field. Harley, if I increased the power to the box enough, it would pull the floor below and even the hull of this ship into a position halfway between the floor and the dish. You see the field is generated in front of the dish and is powerful enough to hold itself in place against the small amount of pull exerted by the minor mass of the ship itself. It would take a small planet’s gravity well to exert enough force on even this small projector to dislodge it from its position in space. That’s why the scale doesn’t read the extra weight of the ingot. The field is too strong to be affected by such a small mass.” Harley began to understand and asked,” So what can we do with it? Can we generate our own gravity for the ship now and turn off the spin?” “Well sure, but we need the spin for other things like ship stabilization,” she replied. “Well then, what’s the big deal, Syl?” Sylvia showed her exasperation for just a moment before she replied, “Just think for a minute, Harley, If we could mount a working model in front of the Hope and point it back toward us, we could pull the ship after the projector in short pulses and reach the Effrates system in maybe two weeks instead of thirty-six years!” Harley could only stare at her with his mouth hanging open. She had to shake him by the shoulders to get his attention. When Harley had regained enough composure to speak, all he could think of to say was, “Are you sure?” Sylvia replied with a smile, “Well, the two week thing might be a little ambitious, but yes, I’m sure about the capability to decrease our travel time drastically.” She frowned for a moment then continued, :Of course, there are a lot of things about bending the fabric of space and traveling faster than light we haven’t proven. We would have to conduct more tests before we actually initiated a drive of this sort. Harley isn’t it worth a try if we could get back to Terra with help in say five or ten years instead of sixty-five or more?” Harley only had to think for a moment before answering, “Okay, Syl, what’s our next step?