Ascent. Chapter Two

Adrian starts his new position in the Armada. He has to navigate the schemes of his superiors while taking on the biggest responsibility of his life.

Adrian lay awake his first night in his new apartment, his thoughts bouncing off the walls and laughing back at him at the futility of trying to fight it. Everything he owned was still boxed up in the living room, looking so tiny. After all the years living in space, where every centimeter mattered, the walls were so long and bare, and the rooms just too big. Sleep flashed before his eyes a few moments, but the clock barely moved.

There were plenty of schemes to notify Tarly. The one he settled on was to just tell Molitor, so he could tell her. After that, he didn’t know what she’d do.

Fighting her aunt’s scheme had a singular option. The courts had declared Tarly would settle her affairs in duels and granted her aunt the right to select a champion. Adrian wasn’t being officially ordered to accept the offer, but he was basically having a loaded gun pointed to his head by honor and noble society to do it. He had to notify his new commanding officer and paint it as a civilian meddling in Armada affairs. That was his only option.

His alarm rang at 0600. He wore his dress uniform to his new position. No trench coat. Armada officer dress was silver, short sleeved dress shirt and slacks, with crimson trim. His shirt had broad, sculpted shoulders with his three red bars on them. It was tailored to his slim figure. Even a ragged lowborn like himself could be shaped into a handsome officer and gentlemen by it.

 Before transferring to Tollyon, he’d folded it so well it came right out of its storage sheath ready to wear. Once he had it on, Adrian paced in front of the bathroom mirror, debating what medals to wear. He had plenty, but in the past had received backhanded compliments for being a showoff for wearing them all.

He settled on a minimalist approach. All he equipped was the gold stripe that designated him as a former enlisted, and the two Stars of Hallard. The stripe meant he wasn’t just a lowborn officer, but a grunt who’d climbed to the officer ranks over a decade. The Stars of Hallard were the highest medal anyone could earn in the Armada.

He’d won the first twenty years ago, as a nineteen-year-old enlisted soldier. Not even a space soldier but uneducated, impoverished cannon fodder with a rifle. There’d been a rebellion somewhere. His division had been deployed as part of the response. The rebels had attacked en masse on landing with armored vehicles and artillery, and they’d been driven across a shallow river into frantically dug trenches.

Adrian and his foxhole buddy had spent the night wading across the river and back, as the cheers and celebratory gunfire of the rebels rattled overhead, and dragging wounded soldiers back. They’d saved over forty by sunrise. One had turned out to be a Major, who eight years later had written Adrian’s recommendation to Officer College.

His military ID granted him a priority express elevator up to the outside of the moon. He reached the towering double doors of the Tollyon Green Academy at 0845, fifteen minutes early. The Academy had been built on the surface of the moon eight hundred years ago. Now, it stood tall, but at the bottom of the vast wishing well. A transparisteel dome rose half a kilometer overhead and spread for far as Adrian could see. The anchorage kept rising beyond the academy and the dome keeping the atmosphere in, for dozens of kilometers. Civilian habs became military shipyards and far above, the vast forms of warships lay at dry dock.

It was summer holiday, and all was empty outside the doors, except for two figures in silver awaiting him at the top. One had three gold bars, a full head of close-cut white hair, and a statuesque figure of Adrian’s height, but far more defined by muscles and overall mass.

Adrian stopped short at the top stop and pressed his fist over his heart in a salute.

Vice Admiral Elmier Mcarron, dean of Tollyon Green Academy, returned the salute. “Professor Adrian Huxton. Welcome to my Academy,” he said and extended a hand.

Adrian shook, and the Admiral’s grip tightened around his joints like a vice, expertly crushing every nerve ending. Adrian grinned through the pain as he always did and shook back enthusiastically until Mcarron released, with arched eyebrows.

The second person, his aide with a gold flag identifying her as such on her collar, stared at his hand incredulously. She was a tall woman with flaming red hair and snow-pale skin. She also had the dress uniform, a dress shirt and skirt with silver tights and crimson heels. A silver sash was around her waist.

“I’m grateful to be here, helping shape the next generation of officers in the Armada and coming from Tollyon,” he said. Tollyon was fully integrated into the United Systems Republic, but House Venko ruled Tollyon. As it had for the past thousand years. Their influence had dragged considerable industry out here to the last stop of civilization, including elevating the old House Tollyon military Academy into the Armada’s sixth federal military academy. With stipulations of course. Mcarron had been chosen by the Admiralty, but he had to be approved by the Venkos.

“And I’m sure you’ve got some new and very interesting lessons for our incoming freshman class. You’ll see them inside. They’re in week two of new cadet basic training being marched about by the senior instructors, given a basic boot camp before the first term starts,” Mcarron said. The aide grabbed the door and hauled it open. Old iron hinges and hard plastic groaned as they slid open. “Let’s take you to your classroom.”

Adrian got a quick tour from the aide. She led them on and lectured away about the academy’s history while he and Mcarron walked on in silence.

Adrian had been told by a couple of previous instructors that Mcarron liked giving tours to new faculty himself, as he was an avid student of history and the academy had a millennia of it. However, this snub didn’t surprise him.

“The entry foyer was the last of the original, airtight buildings to be put up. If you look at the doors they’re actually all airtight bulkheads,” she said and pointed at the rubber seals around the edges of the front doors. They continued inside. “This is the original configuration. You’ll see uniform issue on the left, where the original EVA ready rooms were.”

“This where new cadets go first?” Adrian said.

She didn’t even look back. “Good thought, yes, it is. We get them uniformed up in their all-white cadet uniforms. They earn their first stripe of crimson after their first year and add more crimson each year until they don the proper officer’s dress uniform on graduation.”

Adrian liked that; a visual motivator to keep their heads down and push forwards to success.

As they went from the entry foyer through the next set of airtight doors to the mess hall, he debated on when best to bring up the Artreyas problem. He decided to save it for last.

“The mess hall was built as a ballroom. The original skylights are long gone, but we can still remove the tables and floors to reveal the original wood. There’s two staff and student balls per semester,” she said. Adrian looked up the old iron hematite columns to the vaulted ceiling as she continued on about the different functions over the years.

“And now we come to the barracks,” she said. “Each class has a floor in the barracks. Every week, a new crew are assigned to airtight door duty. We keep full airtight duties to condition them to life in space,” she said.

The barracks were row upon row of identical wooden doors, all propped open so any staff could inspect at any time. Sure enough, teams of senior cadets in all-silver dress unfiorms were going room by room with their dreaded demerit clipboards. A pile of uniforms went flying out one door. As they passed another, Adrian heard a thump and turned to see a senior throwing the mattress off a bed.

“We have plenty of instructors here, and as a professor you’ll have your own inspection and facilitator duties. However, whenever possible we let the seniors take the lead. Think of this as a leadership laboratory to see what they’re made of in a controlled environment. Not all of us can get live combat experience day one,” Mcarron said. He’d spoken for the first time since they’d actually entered.

“It’s better this way. No one has to die proving themselves,” Adrian said.

“Some would argue that an officer corps is inexperienced until they are blooded in combat, and there’s plenty of that as you well know,” Mcarron said with a pointed stare at Adrian.

This was a test, Adrian thought. “In combat, people can die thanks to bad luck. Even the best soldier can just be shit out of luck one day and take a stray bullet far from the front lines. This way, we can weed out the good from the bad decisively,” Adrian said.

Mcarron nodded and a little smile spread on the corners of his mouth. They entered the academic sections with a lecture from the aide about how Venko hall was the oldest building on campus. It had been originally a war office when the Venkos emerged from their moonlet and began the long war to retake the surface of Tollyon. After that was done, the Venkos had decided to keep their military training in orbit to ensure their officers retained t the tough training that had conquered the world.

It looked that old. The buildings were sheet metal reinforced by structural upgrades. The doors were rounded portals, still bearing their long-unnecessary airtight seals.

“Here you are. Room 107,” Mcarron said. It was a standard university classroom, with stadium seating for eighty cheap plastic chairs in rings of desks tables. Adrian’s desk and podium faced them.

Adrian stood at the top and looked down, taking in every desk and chair down to his podium. He breathed in for a minute, taking in the scent of disinfectant and dust. He’d won. His own classroom at last. His own students to shape into the best officers possible. Careers he could start without the pain he’d gone through to begin his own.

“There we are. That passion for teaching. Your degree was in childhood education, was it not?” Mcarron said, smile widening into genuine delight.

“Here it is,” Adrian said. He pulled out his wallet and unfolded the copy of his diploma he always carried with him.

Mcarron and the aide leaned in to read it, as if they hadn’t believed him in any of his previous interviews or piles of paperwork and recommendations.

“Indeed, it is,” Mcarron said.

Adrian walked down the steps, running his fingers over each chair and desk until he reached his own. “I’ll be teaching calculus three, orbital mechanics one and two, and the theory of supply chains, right?” he said.

“Four classes. The orbital mechanics ones are sophomore classes and five credits each because there’s a simulation component. Calculus three is four credits for all levels, and theory of supply chains is a three-credit elective. Personally, I was never a master at math so I’ll be interested to see how you do.”

Adrian translated it in his head that Mcarron would be sitting in on a couple classes. Or, his aide would at least. He placed a finger on the wall behind his desk and the steelwork flickered. The entire wall was a touchscreen. “I learned on a chalkboard.”

“What?” Mcarron said.

“When I was in high school, we learned on a chalkboard. That’s how poor the school was. I did university online between deployments,” Adrian said.

“Did you get free meals with that?” the aide said.

Adrian ignored her.

“There’s something new. I’ve decided to add a fifth class. Don’t worry, it’s only a once-a-week course. Most of our instructors have families, and since you’re a bachelor and a combat veteran I thought you’d be best fit. It’s called Theory of Combat,” Mcarron said.

Adrian turned about slowly. “What am I teaching?” he said.

“What’s combat to you?” Mcarron said.

Had the Vice Admiral ever seen combat? Adrian wondered. “There is an enemy. You kill the enemy before they kill you. Repeat.”

“At its simplest. But how do you reduce it to that? Every man and woman in the armada is going to be afraid going into combat. They’ll have a million little life things weighing on their mind, and maybe even moral qualms about fighting if they haven’t been indoctrinated well enough. That’s what you’re doing. One hour a week on Saturday at noon. For a select group of freshmen. Think of this as an experimental class.”

Adrian changed his mind. Mcarron had definitely seen enough action to know what it felt like to face death. And this class would have Mcarron’s name on it. Adrian was a tool to get this admiral one final legacy at the Academy. “I think I’ve got a lot to tell them,” he said.

“Remember. You have seen about two major battles and a dozen skirmishes, officially. You need to prepare each and every one of your students to face that,” Mcarron said.

“Can I make them do push-ups?” Adrian said.

Mcarron and his aide burst into laughter. “No, save that for the trainers. You’re a professor, it’s undignified of you,” he said. The laughter petered off. “Now. Lunch is in about thirty minutes. You’ll be at the staff table, watching the incoming class and our top seniors at a distance. Do you have any requests?”

“Yes, just one,” Adrian said. “I’ve had a massive distraction to my duty thrown at me by a civilian noblewoman who wants to deprive the Armada of a couple up and coming officers for petty gains. Have you heard about the Tarly feud?” he said.

“Oh, that. I was waiting for you to bring that up,” Mcarron said and crossed his arms.

Adrian’s spirits fell as his entire argument fell away from his tongue. “You got a letter from Lady Artreyas-Grammsara?” he said.

“You could say that. Can I see yours?”

“She wants me to duel a fellow officer of equal rank, who is also stationed on Tollyon,” Adrian said. “There’s a few rules against that. Tarly is an officer stationed in the same location as me. She is of equal rank which makes it a breach of discipline. This legal matter also has no military relationship which makes it a breach of legal boundaries between civilian and military courts.”

Mcarron gave him a demeaning shake of his head. “There are rules, but there are precedents to those rules. Up here, before law there is honor; the unwritten rules that kept the Venkos civilized in the centuries they lived in exile. You don’t murder your enemies while they are your guests, or betray a flag of truce. If two military forces fight, they will avoid civilian casualties. And you will honor the requests of the unfit. You are being called to honor commander.”

“More honorable than stabbing a friend and comrade in the back?” Adrian said.

“Friendships do not belong in work. We’re brothers and sisters here, not friends.”

“And Artreyas-Grammsara is neither of those. She never was a soldier. She’s shitting on the will of a dead soldier, the late Lord Rear Admiral Artreyas. He fought alongside The Founder himself,” Adrian said.

“Indeed. And she is not welcome in our circles. However, she is welcome to prosecute her inter-house claim. You may refuse her call. You will find yourself refused by much more,” Mcarron said. He patted Adrian’s shoulder. “New star system, new friends. You can find quite a few here. I promise you, whatever anyone thinks of you, if you prove useful enough you will go far. This academy posting with cadets of some of the most esteemed Armada dynasties will take you far.”

Adrian watched him and his aide go. He opened his comp and dialed Molitor.

Got him on the second ring. “Hey, Adrian. I’m doing a staff briefing for Admiral Venko the Lesser himself in five minutes.” Molitor had been picked as the aide for the four-bar commandant of Tollyon star system itself.

“I need to speak to you. I’m forwarding you a message right now. I’ve got a serious problem. Don’t risk your job over it but I need help,” he said.

“Wait. What the fuck did you…” Molitor trailed off as he read the message. “When do you see her?”

“Don’t know. I’m just waiting and hoping they decide on someone else. Anyways, Vice Admiral Mcarron told me fight the duel or its my career and…” he bit his lip before panic could spill out.

“I will talk to Venko the Lesser when I get the chance. I’ll lobby on your behalf as much as I can on my first day on the job. His big brother did personally pin one of those Stars of Hallard on you.”

“Yeah, because I helped win him a battle,” Adrian said. “I don’t know if the Venkos will care if I’m not useful to them. I’m angry, I just want my fucking job and my two dear friends.”

“I know. I have to go. Call you after.”

Adrian headed out. He was met by the rhythmic tap, tap of a double column of freshmen marching in file. Heel to toe, heel to toe, every step in-synch. Their heads were locked dead ahead. He smelt the perspiration off them, red-faced from exertion and sweaty, all their features melding into their identical black uniforms. Two seniors in dress silvers led the column. More patrolled the length of the corridor, yelling corrections as they went.

“Are you going to greet that officer up there? He might be your next teacher!” the young, brown-skinned woman in the lead bellowed.

As each freshman passed Adrian, they waved their black caps over their head. “Good morning, sir. Good morning, sir. Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning cadet,” Adrian said over and over.

The day went slowly, loaded with introductions to all the other staff and full review of a dress parade from the cadets. The staff were a functionally welcoming bunch, with the usual demeaning slights from the nobles. The cadets saw the two Stars of Hallard and were too terrified, even the nobles.

Adrian finished the day with no word from Molitor. He locked up his classroom door, pressed the key fob into his little chest pocket, and headed out.

A civilian in a black business suit waited at the front doors. He was standing so still amidst the marching cadets and departing staff, he caught Adrian’s attention immediately. The man met his gaze and nodded.

Adrian strode over. “I know who you’re representing,” he said.

“All I care is that you know how to lift a sword and how to beat the pretender Tarly. For the record I know everything. Including that you have a daughter and want to see her,” he said.

Adrian stopped short. “If I say no right now, and walk away, the Lady will be left with an inferior champion, who will doubtlessly lose. I’m sure she’s got a lot more to lose than I do.”

“Colonel. When you were a Captain in charge of the supply depot for the Larang System, you agreed to divert supplies so Venko the Greater’s forces would always get their deliveries first, at the cost of every other command. You’ve made plenty of deals in your time to climb the ranks. This is just one more. So please, let’s talk as adults,” he said.

“You ever gone into battle? Known that any moment your life would end?” Adrian said.

The man blinked once, and smirked. “I’m sure you are far braver than me.”

“No. I’m saying I’ve at least bled for something greater than my own power,” Adrian said.

“Very well. Now if you’re done, we have to talk about one more person you’re going to kill.” He waved his hand like a recruit waving their hat and walked out the door. Adrian smarted and followed.

A black maglev limo waited outside. The man tapped a door and let the gullwing hatch rise. He waved Adrian inside.

Adrian was hit by the air conditioning as he entered. The temperature dropped by ten degrees. He found himself facing two bodyguards in purple and silver armor, clutching rapiers. They slid aside, revealing a grey-haired woman in a purple sweater. She smiled like a picture of an old grandmother. Adrian had never had a loving old grandmother. Maybe he had, actually. His memories growing up were all poisoned. He saw the idea of a sweet old grandmother.

“Hey,” he said.

“Why hello Colonel. It’s an honor to meet you,” she said and smiled sweetly.

Adrian knew he couldn’t exchange insults with her. He’d already gotten stung badly by her hired minion. He’d gone straight through all Adrian’s accomplishments to stick his heart. That wouldn’t go away. The falsely sweet grandmother would do worse. He thought for a few seconds. Then decided to just sit there silently. Until the smile softened into confusion.

“Do you know why you’re here?” she said.

“Yes.”

“Have you decided what matters to you?” she said.

“Maybe.”

“Well. Are you going to accept, or are we going to have to destroy you? I’ve got sixteen charges I can file for you laying hands on that detective. Then I can complain to the Venkos at one of their daughter’s birthday parties next week.” The granny smiled like a shark.

“You want me to refuse?” Adrian said.

“No.” She gaped.

“You sound like you’d enjoy destroying me. I feel I’d serve you better by refusing and letting you. I could let you pick a lesser champion and watch Tarly tear you to shreds,” Adrian said.

Please take the fight, he begged silently.

Please fight me.

“Well.” She paused, and bit her lip. “No. I’d enjoy having my rightful title that my weak fool of a brother never should have inherited. I can get far more satisfaction from that. My brother thought like a lowborn. He just wanted to win his wars then go home in sit in his garden. Our family could have been as highly ranked as the Venkos now, but after the great rebellion he just went home. And he gave his title to his one child who was following in his irreverent footsteps. A father seduced into doting on his daughter. You have no idea how much the wasted potential burned me all those years.” She sucked in a deep breath.

“Now, you are going to fight that duel for me and in payment I’ll.” She paused and sucked in a breath. “Hmm. What should we give the Colonel to make this honorable?”

“You suggested healthcare for himself and his daughter,” the man said.

“Yes. That’s right. I’ll put you and your newly discovered daughter on my healthcare plan. Whatever ails either of you will be treated for free in the best hospitals possible. Forever,” she said. She opened her comp from a lavish gold wristband and typed up a few things. “See, in writing.”

Financially, that was a fantastic offer. But it was so empty below the surface it barely registered to Adrian.

“You know that if Tarly defeats her three brothers, you will have no legal heir in the family line,” Adrian said.

“So? I’ve got plans saved up for after this victory. I’ve waited for this title my entire life. I’ve coveted it more than anything you can dream of And now I’ll finally have it,” she said. “So accept the offer. Do the honorable thing.”

“Why do you think I can win?” Adrian said.

“I know your type. You are a lowborn who wants more than just being another soldier. You’re a starving shark around power. Your hunger gives you strength to claw through steel chain link fences to eat that little bit of power. You will fight your hardest and I’ve access to videos of your sparring with the pretender, so I know you are at least on par with her. Now win or go down under me. And, if you are stupidly loyal enough to the pretender to get injured somehow ahead of time, I’ll destroy you anyways. Goodbye” She waved him away with false cheer.

Adrian opened the hatch himself and stepped out.

“Colonel,” the man said and emerged after.

Adrian spun around and stared at him.

“A word of wisdom. You thought your rank made you a little important. People like you and I will never be important. We are the movers for them, the ones who are truly important.” He swept an arm back towards the dark void in the open hatch. “Remember that. And good luck with your new position.”

Adrian trudged away without a further word. He headed down the sidewalk to the monorail station. Soon as the limo blew past, he whipped out his comp.

It rang on its own, just as he found the keypad.

-Tarly.

---

Hello friends, thank you for reading my latest story. This is a mini-serial in six parts. If you liked part one and can’t wait for the rest, please show your appreciation by liking and subscribing. Every subscription matters.

Thank you, and see you next week.