Another day in the life…

Chapter 44

Monday, September 15, 1924 P.D.

While sipping her juice, Rachel received a call on her uni-link and sighed. She'd had her fill of nosey reporters and HD announcers calling. How did they get my private number?

"Hello, Cadet Mayhew speaking."

Commander Wofford replied. "Top of the morning, cadet. Is Miss Truman there with you?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, you can pass it to her… both of you are to report to McCluskey Auditorium after breakfast, no later than zero-eight."

"Yes, sir… have we done something wrong?"

He chuckled. "No, why would you think that?"

Here at the academy, she always waited for the other shoe to drop. Just think of it as developing your critical thinking skills, Commander Wofford had once told her. As a cadet, one was often notified that he or she had done something wrong, even when one wasn't sure what it was.

"Zero-eight, McCluskey auditorium, aye sir."

She ended the call and poked her friend on the arm. "You too."

So, after breakfast, they went to the auditorium and saw that the Queen, Protector Benjamin, the commandant, Lt. Lee and a photographer from the academy newsletter were there.

"All of you, form up on the stage," the commandant directed, and they formed in their two squads.

Elizabeth spoke. "I didn't bring a squadron of personnel, nor are there any media people with me. I wanted to keep this informal, to personally thank you for your actions yesterday morning. I'm here this morning to award each of you the Monarch's Thanks. It's not a Navy award, it's recognition that I decide upon. Protector Benjamin has something for each of you as well."

She approached Lt. Lee first. "Lieutenant, you were the mission leader, and you made the call for our evacuation. As it turns out, it was the right call."

The commandant handed her a leather-bound folio and she gave it to the lieutenant. "You have my sincere thank you, lieutenant."

"You're welcome, your Majesty."

She moved to Rachel. "Midshipwomen Mayhew, you have my humble thanks for your courage, loyalty, and skill during the events of September 13, 1924 P.D. I wish you the best of luck in the rest of your career."

She gave Rachel a leather-bound folio.

"Thank you, your Majesty."

Her father stepped forward. "Words cannot express the pride I have in you, Midshipwoman Mayhew. I'm pleased to present this to you, the Protector's Commendation Medal. As with the Monarch's Thanks, it's not a Navy award, but one I've decided upon. May you continue to serve with distinction."

He pinned a golden medallion on her chest just above her flight wings and instead of shaking her hand, drew her into a hug.

"Thanks, dad," she whispered and resumed her position of attention.

They moved down the squad to cadets Costa and Pickett, where the two were additionally awarded Wounded In Action stripes. Last were Lt. Tucker and Sergeant McDonald, who were given a Monarch's Thanks, Armsman Commendation Medals, and promotions to Captain and Staff Sergeant.

After the ceremony, the cadets were dismissed to class, but Benjamin asked to speak to her before she left. "The treaty review should be done by Wednesday afternoon," he said. "We'll leave for home Thursday morning, so I won't be seeing you until May."

She nodded and hugged him again. "I'll call before you leave. Tell mom and Jeanette that I love them and have a safe trip home. Tester bless you."

"May the Tester bless you as well, sweetheart."

#

Commander Rossi was giving a brief review of the previous week's material when Rachel, Angela, Trent, and two other cadets trotted inside the lecture hall. He paused and waited for them to take their seats.

"Congratulations to you five. We were reviewing last week's material," he said and pointed a red beam at the smart board behind him. "Today, we'll get to the meat and potatoes of operational scenarios."

Commander Rossi was becoming a cadet favorite for not only the information that his students could really dig into, but the engaging way he delivered it. No other faculty member would have included the words meat and potatoes in their lectures, unless the lecture was about food.

"An operational scenario can be best described as a description of planned, imagined events that includes the interactions of you— the cadets—and the ships or the training base on Thorston. The ship and its systems, the equipment, and the interactions between you and the personnel who are assigned to the ship. If it sounds like practice for your middy cruises, it is."

"The events will be as such: EVA training, hours of flying time for all you pilots, tactical problems, lectures, and surveys."

"As far as the personnel that are assigned to a ship, they have their own lives and jobs that they're busy with, so they won't be too concerned with you. There will be personnel on the ship assigned to assist with training, because there's no way we can have the amount of faculty we need up there."

The smart board moved to the next slide.

"Let's look at Thorston, the academy's primary off-planet training site. Each of you, no matter your career track, will have a part in setting up, maintaining, and taking down the facility."

He saw the harried looks on their faces and held us his hands. "Let me rephrase that… the buildings and power generators are there, but that's it. Cots, chairs, computers, smart boards, rations, gear and equipment for the galley and sick bay— everything is in a warehouse. It'll be your job to get everything up and operational."

He brought up a photo of a large, empty room in a fabricated building. In the horizon of the photo, Manticore looked like a shining marble against the backdrop of space.

"This is what will be the primary lecture room, as you can see…"

#

On Mondays, Rachel had Naval Operations, Advanced System Design, and weapons class before lunch. On this Monday, she sighed when she pushed the button to bring her target closer. When she was at the range, the Marines left her to her armsmen. They had as much weapons experience as the Marines, so having an armsman there left a Marine free to help a needy shooter.

"Rob, I can shoot long guns just fine, but when it comes to pistols, my average kill shot percentage the past two years is 85%. That leaves a 15% chance for my opponent to kill me," she complained. "Like I told Nate last year, if someone decides to pull a pistol on me, it'll be their lucky day."

He stifled his chuckle. "M'lady, not all is lost," he said and pointed to locations on the target. "See this neck shot? That's disabling and they won't be shooting back. All the person will be thinking about is the pain and trying not to bleed out. This shoulder shot? The person can't move this arm. The gut shot? Disabling too, I can't think of anyone being able to work through the pain and trauma of a gut shot."

She made a face thinking about pain and trauma. She had been through that before, and she didn't relish the thought of inflicting it on someone else, even an enemy.

"Targets out!" the range officer called out.

"If the unfortunate day comes that I ever must shoot someone, I just want to end it quickly. No suffering," she said and ran the target back out.

"Of course, m'lady, you're not a killer."

"Shooters prepare to fire! Ready on the left!"

A Marine lifted a green paddle.

"Ready on the right!"

Another Marine lifted a green paddle.

"Shooters, you may fire once your target appears!"

She raised her weapon and took her stance, mentally repeating breathe, relax, aim, squeeze, shoot! while Robert analyzed her stance and grip to see if any helpful adjustment could be made. When she finished off the magazine, she switched the selector to safe and placed it on the counter in front of her.

"M'lady, I noticed that just before you shoot you lift your right heel off the floor, just a bit. And your left hand looks as if you're stretching it. Maybe on the next magazine, you should…"

#

During lunch, she half-heartedly listened to her friends chat while she looked over her homework for her next class, Advanced Propulsion. The class was amid a fascinating unit of study about both nuclear fusion and fission. They were analyzing important papers published by prominent scientists from both Manticore and Grayson. Commander Sarvis, not to be outdone by the popularity of Commander Rossi, was trying to arrange for one or more of the scientists to visit his class for a lecture or two. She felt a hand rest on hers and saw that Matt had been trying to get her attention.

"Sorry love, I got caught up in this," she said.

"You, me, dinner tonight?" he asked. "I heard that there's a good place down the road from the gate, one of those little places we've never went to."

"Sounds great, as long as I get a full plate. I'm always famished after coup class."

Her prediction would ring true. She, Petty Officer 2nd Class Dailey (black belt 2nd rank) and two brown belts were tasked to help with the newcomers, who were now at their sixth session. By now, all those whose hearts weren't in it were weeded out, so the true believers were left. After stretching and warm-up exercises, she bowed before she stepped onto the mat. Seven first forms (Mueller among them) and four second forms stood off the mat. She tapped the black belt around her waist and spoke.

"With proper training and hard work, this can be yours in ten years or so," she stated.

Behind her, the experienced students had started sparring. She chuckled when she heard Max's surprised grunt when he caught a leg to the stomach.

"What I've seen from you looks promising. You could have chosen karate or boxing, but you're still here, so get ready. Tonight, we'll go hands-on with some basic moves. You'll have some bruises and pulled muscles tomorrow, but if you have real trouble moving around in the morning, please visit sickbay. For now, let's get started. Pads, mouth guards, and headgear on, if you will."

"Pat, come on up."

Patrick Mueller bowed and stepped on the mat, flattered that they could be on a first name basis in this place and that she felt comfortable enough to do so. Occasionally, a m'lady would slip through, but habits of a lifetime were hard to change. When he straightened, she took a stance and he wasn't sure what to do. Faster than he could think or react, she caught him with a quick strike to the head. Not enough to hurt, but enough to know that he'd been tagged.

"You must always be prepared once you step onto the mat. The best way to not get hit, well… is to not get hit. Pat, throw a punch, go ahead."

He did so and she easily slapped it aside.

"I know you're not used to this, but you need to throw a punch like you mean it. Again."

He put more force behind the next one and she slapped it aside.

"Good, now let's look at it slower. Put your arm back up."

When he did so, she placed the back of her hand against his wrist and slapped his hand away, while keeping her other hand up.

"Did everyone see? You must do this fast and keep your other hand ready, to prepare for your next move and your opponent's next move. Again."

Pat raised his fist to her face, which she slapped away and caught him on the side of head with her other hand. While he was wondering what had happened, she took hold of his headgear and brought his head down. Stunned, he found his nose a centimeter from her knee.

"It's going to be a long class," one of the observers murmured.

"Okay, while Pat steps off the mat and reflects on what happened, Tomlin gets a turn with me. Vella, you're with Price."

Petty Officer Dailey motioned for another one and he looked at his name tape. "Nakano, you're with me."

By the end of class, most were blocking strikes to the head. Getting knocked repeatedly to the head, even with headgear on, was enough motivation to try and stop the strikes. It was a challenge, as Rachel, PO Dailey, and the brown belts moved so fast. PO Dailey called an end to class and they stepped from the mat.

"I'm sure a good time was had by all, but you'll want to take an analgesic before bed tonight. You had headgear on, but you took repeated strikes to the head. There might even be some neck pain from your heads snapping back. It gets better, I promise. So, what was tonight's primary lesson?"

"To not get hit," First Form Vella stated.

"Good! On Thursday we'll work on blocking body blows, and then tie that into tonight's lesson. Dismissed."