“I’ll take this one,” Roger said, picking a high bunk. I shrugged and picked the one next to him. I didn’t really care if I got the higher or lower bunks, but it was the principle of the thing. “Who’s going to be First Ensign?”
We looked at each other. Traditionally, the First Ensign — or the First Lieutenant — was the officer who had held that rank the longest. Lieutenant Hatchet’s service pins had suggested that she’d been a Lieutenant for at least seven years, surprisingly long. She should have been promoted to Captain or rotated out of the zone years ago. We, on the other hand, had received our commissions together and we had all served an equal amount of time. It might have been barely two days, but even so, we were matched. There was no obvious First Ensign.
“Sally probably has the best claim,” Muna said, from her bunk. She was already stripping down to put on her standard uniform. I carefully didn’t look at her. “She’s the only one who didn’t earn so many demerits.”
“Yeah, but that’s not tradition,” Roger said. I rolled my eyes. It was evident that Roger was angling for the post himself, and equally evident that Muna and Sally were against it. I didn’t know why. As far as I knew, we all got on fairly well, even though we came from very different backgrounds. “Tradition says…”
“Tradition says that we need someone who has served longer than the others,” Sally pointed out. “Remind me; which of us has a fair claim to serving longer than the others?”
“No one,” I said. “Why don’t we just pull straws for it?”
“John, that’s not going to work,” Roger said. “We might as well play cards for it.”
“Not bloody likely,” Rolf said, from his bunk. “I’ve seen you pulling an ace from your sleeve before.”
“Enough,” I said, tightly. “None of us has a real claim to the position. If we cannot elect someone, then we need to go to the First Lieutenant and ask her to rule on the subject. Does anyone have more than two votes?”
There was a brief argument, which concluded with Sally and Roger having two votes each, me having another two, and Muna having the last one on her own. “I nominate Sally for the moment,” I said. “I dare say that we’ll have a clear First Ensign soon enough with the Lieutenant, right?”
“True,” Roger agreed. One of the more significant punishments was retroactive beaching for a short period of time, effectively wiping out someone’s service record. A man who had served for ten years might end up having legally served only eight — and therefore was no longer senior to nine-year officers. I had no doubt that the Lieutenant would be quite happy to use the punishment if she felt we deserved it. If she carried on, we’d end up being legally children, or unborn babies. “Shall we get dressed?”
I nodded, stripped myself, and pulled on my standard uniform. Unlike the dress uniform, it could be dirtied without incurring any penalties, although I doubted that the First Lieutenant would allow us to pass without at least a sharp reprimand. I checked myself in the mirror and was relieved to see that I looked reasonably neat and tidy. Roger made a great show of removing his talisman; Muna removed her headscarf without saying a word. Her dark eyes were unreadable. I opened my carryall and transferred the remaining clothing and equipment into the drawer. It was unlocked, but by long convention no one apart from the Captain could demand it opened. I trusted my fellow Ensigns. Besides, there was nothing valuable in my drawer.
“Remember to keep the room tidy,” Sally said, calmly. As First Ensign pro tem, she was responsible for ensuring that we took care of our quarters and drawing up the cleaning rota. It would be one of her tasks in the immediate future. “Ellen, put that bra away. We don’t want to see it.”
“We do,” Roger said, innocently. Sally fixed him with a look that would have made a rampaging tiger back down. “Sorry.”
“So you should be,” Sally said. The laws against sexual discrimination prohibited any awareness of differences between male and female cadets. I had often though that that particular regulation was stupid — I couldn’t help being aware of their femininity — but parts of it made sense. Sexual relationships between cadets and ensigns were forbidden. “Now, shall we go?”
We made one final check of our appearance and allowed her to lead us from our cabin up towards the bridge. It was my first time on a real starship and I gazed around me with interest, drinking in the sights with open wonder. The noise of the starship’s engines as they built up the immense power reserves needed to trigger the Jump Drive seemed to be singing in my ears. It was something out of my dreams. We passed a handful of crewmen who looked at us oddly, perhaps envying us our smart uniforms and career prospects, before we stepped onto the bridge. The First Lieutenant inspected us carefully — no demerits this time, thank goodness — before presenting us to the Captain.
The bridge itself was something of a disappointment. I had expected something out of the latest movie, showing a glistening place of magical technology. Instead, there were a handful of consoles and a single chair in the centre of the room. I felt my gaze linger on the chair, and the man seated in it, for a long moment. The Captain’s chair was only for the Captain. It was a serious offence for anyone else to sit in it.
“Captain,” an officer I didn’t recognise said, “we have received clearance to depart from Orbit Seven.”
“Finally,” the Captain said. He didn’t sound happy, but UNPF regulations were firm on the subject of disengaging from orbital stations. “Ensign Walker, would you care to take the conn?”
Me? I thought. It took me a moment to realise that I was even being addressed, or that the Captain knew my name. “Yes, sir,” I said, trying desperately to remember the procedure from the Academy. I had never docked anything larger than a Flitter or Bug in real life. I’d done well on simulations, but… I swallowed my nervousness and leaned forward. “Pilot, confirm that we have disengaged from the locks.”
“Not confirmed,” the pilot said calmly, although there was an undertone of nervousness in his voice. He knew just how badly I could fuck this up, all right. “We are still locked to the station.”
I cursed my mistake silently. “Confirm that the docking tube has been evacuated and depressurised,” I ordered. I could hear my heartbeat thundering away in my ears. I was sure that everyone could hear it, right across the bridge. “Disengage from locks and order the station to retract the tube.”
The display altered slightly. “Tube retracted, sir,” the pilot said. The starship was now flying free. “The station confirms that we are cleared to depart.”
“Bring up the drive field and manoeuvre us away from the station,” I ordered, searching my memory desperately. “Clear two hundred thousand kilometres from the station, and then prepare to bring up the Jump Drive.”
“Aye, sir,” the pilot said. I could feel a faint thrumming though the deck as the starship slowly moved away from the station. The drive field was pushing us towards the jump coordinate. “Target star?”
“Terra Nova,” I said, firmly. The Captain had said that we were going there first. I also expected that he would countermand me if we were going elsewhere. “Select jump coordinates as appropriate.”
“Very good,” the Captain said, warmly. I flushed. “Still… how many waypoints do you think we will need?”
I hesitated and finally took refuge in the regulations. “UNPF regulations state that starships must have at least four waypoints between Earth and the destination star,” I answered, carefully. “Five, sir?”
“Four will be sufficient,” the Captain said. He keyed his console. “Engineering, this is the Captain. Clear the Jump Drive for activation in…”