"Accusations have come forward lately regarding Candidate Alain Burns's tenure as an instructor at the Officer's Academy in eastern Amato," said the radio on the receptionist's desk. Seth really had nothing else to listen to while he stood waiting for Major Eldon, his commanding officer, to call for him. The receptionist wasn't keen on talking, just kept typing away at her terminal. What could have held her interest, Seth didn't know. Certainly it had to be more interesting than the news. But of course, it didn't concern him, so why would he ask?
But he did know why he was there. Since being given a squad to lead, he'd strived to prove he'd earned the leadership. As far as he was concerned, the mission always came first. However, this was the third time that mind set meant asking more than his squad was capable of.
"A source at the Academy revealed to the candidate's competition yesterday documents which suggest gross negligence on the part of Burns," the radio continued. "As one of the Academy's chief officers, Burns was responsible for many aspects of pilot training including equipment upkeep. The source, a long-tenured technical sergeant at the Academy, claims that Burns's negligence in multiple areas endangered several cadets' lives. This comes as a blow to the Burns campaign, which has leaned heavily on the candidate's military service.
"In other news, peace negotiations have resumed between the Zoidian Council and Sallen Region leaders. Sources close to the negotiations report that talks broke down over the subject of border patrols and the establishment of a large Imperial installation in the Sallen Region. When talks ceased, Imperial military forces were placed on high alert and began regular patrols of the Sallen border. When questioned, Sallen leader Warrick Der Aart stated he would be less likely to resume talks if patrols continued. Sources now say the two sides have compromised on a joint-military installation to be built in the region, comprised of both Sallen and Imperial forces. The base is slated to be named Fort Warrick, which some pundits have suggested was an offer made by the council in order to make Der Aart more receptive to the deal. More on this story as it develops.
"In finance world, Hiltz Systems surprised stockholders when the CEO announced the company would be moving exclusively to military development, henceforth relying on government contracts for income. The company has been successful for over twenty years in the consumer technology sector. In a follow-up interview, the CEO said the current line of consumer products will eventually be discontinued with no replacements in the works. This announcement comes on the heels of Hiltz Systems winning the Army Air Force's New Age Interceptor contract over competitor Novak Industries."
As the voice on the radio finished the news with the local weather, the receptionist's intercom beeped. The receptionist needed only to glance at Seth to tell him to go into the office. From his previous visits, Seth knew that Major Eldon rarely used the intercom to speak with his receptionist. A beep meant he felt the subordinate had sweated for long enough waiting for his meeting. Seth opened the door to see the Major seated at his desk. Seated across from him was Eldon's commanding officer, Brigadier General Nirav, glancing at a debriefing report in his hand.
Eldon was fairly young, for a Major. He earned his position by being an expert in military tactics, not necessarily his combat experience. As a Captain, it was said that he organized a squad of just five Hellcats to subdue over thirty insurgent zoids. General Nirav, on the other hand, was the opposite. He became a General the old-fashioned way – by being patient and growing old. Even the most lackluster military careers garnered enough commendations to attain General status if one waited long enough. Eventually, the Joint Chiefs see your name on a list of the Army's oldest officers and wonder why you haven't been promoted lately. This attitude was not by accident, however. Sufficient rewards were seen as crucial to keep members involved in the military, especially in a time of relative peace such as this.
"Lieutenant Riker reporting, sir," he said, standing at attention and saluting them.
"At ease, Lieutenant," Eldon said. "Have a seat."
Seth knew better. Eldon's favorite tactic was to use his desk as a position of power when dealing with subordinates. Just as gaining the high ground was critical to success through tactical advantage and troop morale, so too was the intimidation factor of the desk. He'd even had his desk and chair raised several centimeters off the floor. Eldon was very good at little things like that. Even the photos on the walls were positioned to show his strength. "Prefer to stand, sir."
"Take a seat, son," General Nirav said. Where respect for Eldon was orchestrated, the respect for an old general like Nirav was expected. He'd put in the time, so anyone under the age of fifty was obligated to hold him in high regard. As such, Seth did as he was told and took the seat next to the General.
"You've developed a reputation, Lieutenant," Eldon said. This was never an encouraging start to a conversation. Especially with a general sitting next to you.
"Could you be more specific, sir?" Seth asked. He dare not say anything declarative until he knew what they wanted of him.
"You actually have several, Lieutenant," Nirav answered. "Excellent pilot, though risky. Mission-capable, but a liability. Impersonal, rough around the edges, subdued, and a danger to the men under your command."
There was much of what Nirav said with which Seth could agree. Indeed, he was skilled in the cockpit. He took risks, but they were only called risks because average pilots wouldn't take them. The problems of other people didn't concern him, so he ignored them. But a "danger to the men under your command?" That was a new one.
"I'm not sure I understand that last point, sir."
"Four combat sorties since Major Eldon gave you command of your squad," said the General. "Three of them ended with your men getting shot down."
"That would be an over-simplification of facts, sir. Corporal Headley disregards my orders to avoid radar contact. On our last sortie, his negligence compromised our OPSEC and the enemy engaged us before we could reach our target waypoint."
"True," Eldon said. "Headley has been an issue and will be removed from active combat and tasked to milk runs. But all the same you do have a tendency to ask too much of your men. Not everyone can fly that ten meters above the deck, Lieutenant."
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" He couldn't say what he wanted to by sticking to protocol.
Eldon and Virav exchanged glances, then the Major nodded. "Proceed."
"I'm afraid I don't see why all our pilots couldn't be held to the same standard. We did all graduate from the same academy."
Nirav gave a tired sigh. "You make a valid point, son. We should be able to ask the same of all our officers. But the truth is the bar is set fairly low for graduation. You see, even though we're in a time of..." he cleared his throat. "...relative peace, the joint chiefs are always worried the fighting may start up again. See, a long time ago, some one once said 'It's impossible to simultaneously prevent and prepare for war.' So, the chiefs decided it'd be more prudent to prepare for war, given our civilization's penchant for bloodshed. And, for them, preparing means assembling a sizable cache of weapons systems and officers to operate them. So, about twenty years ago, they looked at the academy's graduation rate, figured they were already spending enough on new weapon systems as it was, so it would be more prudent to reduce the graduation requirements rather than step up the level of training. The results of which, you've already seen."
"Lower class officers have their place," Eldon continued, perhaps fearing Nirav would carry on some irrelevant tangent. "In a large-scale war, they're historically put in charge of supply runs or units deemed expendable, and leadership has always found this practice acceptable. But even in a peacetime as fragile as this, the only true test of an officer is done during combat. Small squads like your's serve to separate the wheat from the chaff, as it were."
Seth looked at the two of them. "And which one am I?"
Nirav chuckled. "You certainly shouldn't have to ask after hearing what we've just told you."
Seth examined them both. The illusion of Eldon's superiority was shattered by his grin. Nirav smiled at the debriefing report in his hand.
"In that case," Seth continued, "where will I be going?"
"Here," Eldon said, handing him a card with an address on it. "Velasco is assembling a new team, and he's agreed with my recommendation. You're to report to Colonel Velasco tomorrow at eleven-hundred hours. You'll want to take the time until then to collect your effects. It's to be a permanent reassignment."
Seth looked at the address. It was at the Yates Installation, where rumors rarely escaped its walls. He would probably do well not to mention to anyone where he was going on the way there.
"Understood, Major," he said, standing. "Will that be all, sir?"
"Not quite, Riker. Take this," Eldon said. To Seth he tossed a small box. Seth caught it, and opened it to see a set of insignias bearing twin diagonal strokes, one more stroke than the insignia on his uniform identifying his rank as Lieutenant. "Stop by the commissary on your way to the barracks and collect your saber. Good luck, Captain."
Seth's new officer's saber was the only decoration his new quarters required. He had placed it upon the dresser opposite the window. Others may festoon their living space with images of home or references to popular culture, but Seth had no need of such trivialities. The saber signified a great accomplishment for him. Officers below the rank of Captain weren't issued a saber for their service dress uniforms. After the talk with Eldon and Nirav, it was clear to Seth why; Lieutenants weren't considered true graduates of the academy worthy of command.
But the time to don the saber would have to wait. The quick briefing he had received from the guard at the gate informed him that his meeting with Colonel Velasco would immediately segue into flight testing, so his combat fatigues would be appropriate attire.
A First-Class Private was standing next to a military-issue sedan, parked on the street outside the Officer's Barracks when Seth started on his way to the meeting.
"Captain Riker, sir?" the Private called, saluting him.
Seth returned the salute. "And you are?"
"Private Carl Sandor. I'm to be your driver on base, sir." Sandor held open the rear passenger door for him.
"For the day?"
"For the duration of your assignment here, sir."
Seth wasn't about to argue with a private. How would that look? He slid into the car and let the Sandor close the door behind them, then waited while he walked around the car to get in the driver's seat.
"How long since boot camp?" Seth asked. The silence from this Private was more uncomfortable than when his academy instructors would stare him down.
"Three years, sir." That was a long time to remain a Private.
"So what's wrong with you?"
"Sir?"
"How were your aptitude test scores?"
"Um, they were fine, sir," said the confused Sandor, "but I don't see how that's relevant right now."
"A full-time driver?" Seth said. "Usually reserved for generals, colonels, and expensive contractors. Why assign one to just a Captain of a fighter wing? Unless there's something wrong with you."
Sandor paused. "I'm unfit for combat, sir. Six months into my first tour found me at the Sallen border conflict. Artillery shell landed close and shrapnel tore up my right shoulder. Nine months of rehab and I still can't carry a pack, so I'm assigned to motorpool. Suits me just fine. Don't think I could be any good in a firefight, anyhow."
"Then why not leave?"
"You want an honest assessment, sir?"
"Proceed."
"Easiest job in the Army. Show up on time and don't get lost. Very low-stress. Good for my trauma issues."
Hard to argue with that logic.
"Well put, Private. Doesn't explain why you're driving a Captain instead of a General."
"This is the Yates Installation, sir. The only reason to assign a Private here is to drive around recently-appointed Captains who have a new-found sense of ego now that they get to see inside these walls. All due respect, sir."
"Understood," Seth dismissed the jab. "Still, three years and still a Private?"
"I lose the post if I get promoted. Pathetic as it sounds, I'm comfortable here."
"Noted."
The rest of the trip to the meeting passed in silence. If Seth was to spend his time traversing the base in the back of a car, he'd have to find something to do if this was all the Private had to say.
Before much longer they stopped in front of a closed-up hangar. The only distinguishing feature was the guard posted at the personnel door. Sandor stopped the car and got out to circle the car and open the door for Seth. If it was going to take this long every time, Seth just might start sitting on the driver's side.
"I'll wait here until you're finished, sir."
"Low-stress job, Private?"
"Yes, sir."
The guard saluted Seth when he approached, but said nothing.
"Captain Seth Riker," he called, returning the salute. "I understand Colonel Velasco is expecting me."
The guard wordlessly unlocked and opened the door to allow Seth to enter.
Inside Seth was met with the sound of a siren, followed by the buzz of sustained cannon fire.