Chapter 39

"For our new arrivals, I was telling the class that this year's operations class will be somewhat different, as you'll be entering the fleet in nine short months. When you head off-planet for space training, this class will be embedded in the training. I'll be one of the instructors up there as well. Additionally, the Star Empire is working with so many other worlds, so we'll be learning more about the naval operations of other worlds as well. We'll also have guest lecturers and practical exercises."

He turned on the smart board behind him.

"Aside from my time at the Crusher and instructor training, this is my first assignment off of a ship, so bear with me."

With that, many of the students searched their tablets to find his bio. He was a Manticore native, academy class of 1905, married with two teenaged children. He came up as a tactical officer, having served on a junction station LAC, a destroyer, two heavy cruisers, and a CLAC as an Operations officer. He was selected for the Crusher, then served as an executive officer, and now as an Academy instructor.

"Page three of your texts has a good definition of naval operations; the performance of a naval mission that may be operational, tactical, strategic, logistic, or training. Let's use this academy and your upcoming space training as an example. Think of this academy as a ship, and the commandant as the captain. He is responsible for seeing to it that all of you receive the appropriate and necessary training and education to take your place as officers in the navy. He sees to it that you're clothed, fed, housed, safe, disciplined, and provided with everything you need to ensure your success here. The deputy commandant is, in fact, his executive officer as well as his operations officer. He's the commodore you see roaming about, being the eyes and ears of the commandant."

The class chuckled.

"The commodore was also directed to draft an operations order for your space training. Other faculty and I were involved in this as well, and this was the result."

He pressed a button on his lectern and pointed the tip of his laser pointer at the smart board behind him. "The op-order for your first space training mission."

They saw the title page, Royal Manticoran Naval Academy, Near-Space and Space Training, Fourth Forms, 22-27 September, 1924 P.D. He turned to the next page titled Operational Scenario.

"I won't bore you with the next twelve pages, but it's the scenario that says on these dates, these faculty and staff will accompany three hundred fourth forms to conduct near-space and space training for the purpose of..."

He turned to page titled Mission. "This breaks down who is training, what your training will consist of, where it will be conducted, and how it will be conducted."

He next went to the page titled Logistics. "This outlines your care and feeding. There's even a couple of paragraphs for armsmen and treecats."

The last page was titled Command and Signals. "Since we're going to be on Thorston or a ship, we must coordinate our command and signals with our hosts to lessen confusion and to keep our comms clear. This is of vital importance during EVA training."

He saw the harried looks on their faces and turned off the smartboard. "It's not as bad as you think. The navy has op-order templates; commanders merely fill in the blanks. They never do one by themselves, all senior officers are involved in any kind of op-order."

The class was surprised by a tone that signaled the end of class. "We'll be going over this in more detail next week, enjoy the rest of your day."

"That was actually fun!" Theresa exclaimed as the class steamed from the hall.

"I like how it all ties in with training this year," Lew said, and then, "uh oh. Look."

He nodded his head a trio of first forms all looking at their memo boards, talking hurriedly and pointing in different directions.

"I've got this," Rachel sighed and headed toward the lost trio. "Save me a seat!"

#

At the Harrington Tactical Studies Hall, Captain Petersen started her memo pad and began roll call for her fourth form Tactics class.

"Beadle."

"Present, ma'am."

"Belmonte."

"Present, ma'am."

"Br—"

She stopped and looked up when Miss Mayhew hurried into the hall and took a seat in the aisle with her friends. She nodded and continued.

"Breeden."

"Present ma'am."

As she took roll, she noted the aisles where familiar teams of friends were seated. On aisle seven, there was a quartet of friends that were from the same academy prep program at their high school. On aisle five, there were five buddies who were all from the same town on Sphinx. At aisle three sat Mayhew, Truman, Meadows, Elizondo, Riley, Radford, and Goodson. This was what she loved about the academy: this diverse group of people would be friends for life. Different career goals, nationalities, ethnicities, religion, social and economic backgrounds came together in a team that supported each other and worked great together. Two of them even managed to find their future spouses at the academy! The core of the group, Mayhew and Truman, was inevitable. Both were from families that were recognized for their historical, proven leadership and fierce sense of duty, and the results were two young women that were natural leaders.

She saw Mayhew's treecat bump her chin and settle on the table in front of her. "More lost lambs, Miss Mayhew?"

"Can I speak freely, ma'am?"

"In my class, always."

Rachel sighed. "Ma'am, well… every time I turn around, there's a lost one, or one that twisted his ankle, one that misplaced her memo pad, and even one that was crying and wants to go home!"

Captain Petersen nodded and leaned on the edge of her desk. "What did you do for Mister Homesick?"

"Took him to his advisor, ma'am."

"Good, that's exactly what you were supposed to do. Now, I want you to think back—"

Hipper and Athena alerted toward the captain. She cleared her throat, stepped away from the desk, and swayed. Diego and Matt shot to their feet and rushed to her. Lew got to her first and helped her to her seat. Both 'cats hopped to her desk, purring and patting her arms.

"Chuck, call sick bay," Matt said calmly and a cadet went to the comm panel by the doors.

"I hope she's going to be alright," Theresa said.

"Look around, there's about two dozen future doctors in this room," Angela said.

Matt took a knee at the captain's chair and was taking her pulse at the wrist. Lew made small talk to reassure her while noting her pale face, flushed neck, and trembling hands. A few other medical cadets were murmuring about her visible symptoms while perusing their medical text. One looked at the other, bemused.

"Huh? You're going into dentistry!"

A few minutes later, the academy medical clinic's new commanding officer, Commander Larabee, and a sick bay attendant swept into the hall. He went to the front of the hall and nodded approvingly at Matt and Lew.

"Good work cadets, but I'll take over now."

"Yes, sir."

He pulled up another chair and ran a diagnostic scanner over her head and chest while the sick bay attendant entered the information into his memo board.

"Meg, your heart is racing. Is this class that exciting?" he asked and continued the scan down her abdomen.

"Can't you just give me something for it so I can get back to work?"

He stopped the scan, pressed some buttons, and chuckled. He showed it to the SBA, who grinned and continued his work. The commander leaned close and whispered something in her ear. She sat back with wide eyes and he patted her shoulder. "Let's get you to sick bay."

He and the sick bay attendant assisted her to her feet and led her out of the hall. The deputy commandant was heard in the hallway and then he came into the class. The class got to their feet and came to attention. He waved a hand and stood behind the podium. "Take your seats, where were we?"

September 3, 1924 P.D.

At flight class, Rachel was performing a pre-flight check on her assigned Javelin when she was told to report to the hangar where the first forms were having their first flight class. Lt. Lee dismissed her from class and she made her way to the hangar. Hipper trotted beside her and Nate strolled beside her.

"I've been all over the place the past few days, sorry about that," she remarked to Nate.

"No need for apologies, the mentoring has been a part of your duties. They're doing better," he replied.

She ascended the stairs to the hangar's pilot house, noted the sixty or so first forms, and reported to the deputy commandant, who was also the flight school commander. Nate stood by the door, watchful as ever.

"Ah, good morning, Miss Mayhew. I was giving the cadets an introductory briefing about flight school, and I thought it would be a good idea for them to see the video feed from your mishap. They need to know what they're getting into."

She didn't know why she needed to be there for a video, but it wasn't for her to question the commodore. "Yes sir."

"Your flight class is going on right now, isn't it?" he asked.

"Just started, yes sir."

"What's on the class agenda this morning?"

"The flight squadron received notification for the Queen's birthday flight, sir."

"Very good. Could you give the cadets here a summary of your flight school experience?"

"Certainly, sir."

She faced the class, many who were staring at her flight suit in interest. She knew the Graysons weren't yet accustomed to seeing a Grayson woman in trousers. Tough, get used to it!

"Before I arrived here, I was already licensed for sting ships, and I checked out on them my first week here. I also received demerits for doing a stupid stunt, so refrain from doing that."

A cadet raised his hand. "Go ahead," she said.

"Who taught you how to fly sting ships?"

She grinned and gestured to Nate standing by the door. "The gentleman at the door."

They all turned to look at the armsman in Mayhew colors and he nodded in acknowledgment.

"Then we moved to the Javelin simulators, which went on for months. After the simulators, you'll have what's called a starter flight with an instructorin a training two-seater. The instructor will take off, get you in the air, and then you'll take the stick. You'll do this twice. If either you or the instructor feel that flying isn't the thing for you, then you'll be dismissed from flight school. There's no shame in it, some people just don't have the knack for it, or it wasn't what they thought."

She looked to the commandant, who nodded for her to continue.

"Come your third year, if you have the required GPA, you can try out for the academy flight squadron. The try-out taxes your abilities and pushes you to the limit, but it's worth it," she said and held up a flight cap she wore in place of the cadet maroon beret. "Only those who are in the flight squadron get to wear these."

"The Queen's birthday is our first mission this year, our flight in the air show. You'll be granted off-island liberty for the festivities. I encourage you to watch our flight; it's a preview of what you can accomplish if you put your mind to it."

A Grayson held up his hand. She gestured for him to continue.

"M'lady, how does your father feel about you doing dangerous things like this?" he asked.

She raised an eyebrow in challenge, which caused Nate to shift his position to take a good look at the cadet who asked the question. Hipper felt his person's annoyance and stood on his back legs to get a look at the cadet, much as Nate had done. A few Graysons shifted in their seats and looked at the cadet in annoyance. She was sure the question wasn't relevant to the class, and she wasn't comfortable discussing personal matters with a stranger that wasn't any of his business. She started to tell him as such, but bless him, the commodore spoke and echoed her sentiment. "Cadet, that's probably a discussion for another time outside of this class with Miss Mayhew if she feels comfortable discussing it."

"Yes sir."

She glanced at his nameplate and saw MDSHP Mueller and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Color me shocked.

He saw her (and her armsman) take note of his nameplate and red tinged his cheeks.

"Moving on, let's start the video feed from the mishap," the commodore stated and nodded to the petty officer manning the HD console.

There was some static and a title screen that displayed, "20 NOV 1922 P.D. MAYHEW FLIGHT MISHAP." She took a deep breath and crossed her arms as the video began. Most people would be surprised to know that she had never seen the video. She never saw a need to, it happened to her didn't it? The video started and she saw herself taxi down the runway and take off.

At the point in the video where the engines were on fire, she noted that the cadets were leaning forward in their seats, absorbed in the events. When her murmured, "Tester, you've got to be kidding me," was heard, the cadets chuckled. The video stopped.

"Miss Mayhew, what were your thoughts at that point?" the commodore asked.

"Disbelief mostly. As you all can see, I had no control over the Javelin. It was burning and falling apart right there in mid-air, and I was trying not to panic, because that would make the entire situation worse."

The video continued and the class again chuckled when her murmured "shit" was heard, but the moment of levity quickly ended when she shrieked upon her ejection from the craft.

"What happened?" the commodore asked.

"My leg broke when it caught the canopy, and the anti-grav unit caught it too."

Which the class saw when she had to deploy the parachute, and they were visibly disturbed when they saw her descend toward the bay. They gasped and winced in sympathy when she hit the water and the video ended when her head fell forward.

"I passed out due to slight hypothermia, pain from my leg, and my head was already spinning when my helmet slapped the water," she explained. "However, this was a freak mishap; the last Javelin mishap was over forty years ago. Javelins are fun and easy to fly, easily maintained, and technologically uncomplicated. When my leg healed, I got back into the cockpit. There was no choice in my mind."

"And now?" the commodore asked.

"I'm the Alpha team flight leader, certified on Javelins and pinnaces, and will be certified on transports by Christmas."

"Thank you, Miss Mayhew. You may return to your class."

"Yes sir."

They stared at her as she walked toward the door, and she was sure that Cadet Mueller saw her annoyed glance before she left the pilot house. The cadet next to him nudged him sharply and whispered, "stupid."