Sulieman ignored the resentful glances from the guards. He had over two decades' practice at ignoring resentment from his father's bodyguards. But he didn't have as much practice in recent years. For reasons that he had never quite understood, the guards hadn't accompanied him in the Academy, nor Pilot's School.
"So, will you guys be following me into space?" Sulieman asked as Fort Blackstone appeared in the aircar's windscreen.
The guard who wasn't driving looked back at Sulieman. "How long will you be offworld?"
Sulieman shrugged. "Probably most of the next two or three years." At the guard's surprised look, he continued. "Didn't you guys get briefed?"
"No."
"I'm taking command of a starship. A really, really small one." Should I continue? If I don't, will I be stuck with these guys forever? "The enlisted crew is probably only two or three. If you guys insist on tagging along, I'm sure we can find a stretch of hallway you can sleep in."
The guard gave Sulieman an 'are you kidding?' look. After a moment, he turned away, pulled up his boom mike, and began speaking urgently in it.
Well. Looks like I might finally be winning one.
The aircar grounded at Fort Blackstone's perimeter gate. Sulieman's window rolled down as the gate guard approached.
The gate guard's eyebrows rose upon seeing a mere second lieutenant being chauffeured in such style. "Sir?" he asked as he saluted.
"I hope this is the last time I'll arrive this way," Sulieman replied. He handed over his ID card. "But it isn't my decision to make."
The guard looked at Sulieman's ID, and his eyebrows rose again. "And those with you?"
"Members of the CEO's Guard," Sulieman replied. "Do you need their IDs, too?"
"Only if they're armed," the gate guard responded.
The senior bodyguard pulled his boom mike away from his mouth as he turned to the guard. "We never have before."
"Sir, no matter what your policies and procedures are, this isn't the CEO. My orders only cover the CEO and his immediate family."
"This is his son," the bodyguard replied.
Great. Just what I need. Two sets of guards fighting over procedures.
"Gentlemen," Sulieman interrupted. "Both of you have your own procedures. Obviously, both of your organizations take differing views of my status. But I don't want to be declared AWOL while you sort out who does or does not need to show ID." He looked at the gate guard. "Am I cleared?"
The gate guard returned his ID. "Yes, Sir."
"Thank you." Sulieman popped his door and stepped out. "When you settle your differences, please send my duffle after me." He closed the door before the bodyguard's astonished lunge could drag him back into the armored limousine.
"Where's the nearest base public transport?"
"Sir, go straight for three blocks, turn left, and there'll be a bus stop on the right."
"Thank you." Sulieman walked through the gate and onto the sidewalk. Behind him, he heard the door open, and the two guards collide.
I hope he doesn't have to call for backup. Part of Sulieman insisted he should feel guilty about abandoning the guards to each other.
He might have, except this arrangement gave him something he'd been craving ever since the graduation ceremony yesterday.
Freedom.
Some people would find it odd for Sulieman have more freedom as an officer on active duty than as a civilian. None of those people had grown up under the oppressive, watchful, and authoritative eyes of packs of bodyguards.
Until he entered the Academy, the guards had always been present, always frightening to those that might have otherwise become friends. By the time he had entered the Academy, Sulieman was painfully aware that he lacked social skills others learned as children. Instead, he found obstacles he hadn't expected there.
Jealousy. Most of his fellow cadets believed that all Sulieman earned was due solely to nepotism.
The worst part was that they had half-convinced Sulieman. So he redoubled his efforts, studying an hour or two past the time his roommate pulled his pillow over his head and went to sleep. He stumbled through the Academy in a state of near-exhaustion, pulling higher grades than he had in his life. And he felt off-balance whenever he didn't have the next set of classes to study for.
Sulieman looked back. Two MP aircars were swooping down on the front gate, while another CEO's Guard aircar approached the base at high altitude.
I do hope they don't start shooting at each other. Sulieman wondered if he should go back and defuse the situation. But both sides regarded him as a nonentity. To the MPs, he was just another wet-behind-the-ears butterbar. To the CEO's Guard, he was the irresponsible youth they had to shepherd through the shoals of capital life.
I hope the MPs aren't the ones who back down. There was no doubt that, if it came to shooting, the MPs had more firepower to draw upon. Sulieman was reasonably certain that the CEO's Guard would be unable to stand up to the 1st Aerospace Cavalry Division, the major unit stationed at Fort Blackstone. And it was the CEO's Guard's institutional arrogance that caused the dispute to begin with.
He crossed the street in a break in traffic. How much do they lose by showing their ID, anyway? Even as Sulieman thought that, he knew there was more than that. To the CEO's Guard, there was a Principle involved. That principle was their claim to have unchallenged, unwavering control over everything that might possibly affect the CEO's security.
Sulieman stopped at the sign that marked the bus stop. He pulled out his pocket computer, interfaced it with the sign, and saw the next bus was due in five minutes.
"Wonder what's going on there?"
Sulieman glanced over. An overweight NCO stood staring as two MP aircars blocked the CEO's Guard aircar, at or near the base perimeter.
"The CEO's Guard is refusing to show their IDs to the gate guard," he replied.
"I didn't think they had to."
"That's only true if they're guarding the CEO or his wife."
The NCO glanced at Sulieman, and, reddening slightly, saluted. "Sorry, Sir, I didn't see you."
Sulieman returned the salute. "It's all right, Sergeant. I'm sure the show at the base perimeter is more . . . unusual than a junior officer taking the bus."
The bus arrived then, eliminating the need for further discussion. Sulieman took an empty seat near the front and accessed the bus route as it lifted on its air cushion. This bus would deliver him to the post shuttle port. If the bus arrived on time, he would be half an hour before his preferred shuttle lifted.
Sulieman listened to the clanks as the shuttle docked. It was marginally possible that a detachment of the CEO's Guard had taken supra-orbital fighters and beat him to the orbital station known as Fort Defiance. But unlikely.
The passenger loadmaster opened the hatch. He glanced out the hatch, then turned to the passengers. "OK, time to go, people."
Sulieman unbuckled and pushed toward the hatch. In the informal manner of the Magellenic military, he joined the throng that gently queued to leave, with no accounting for rank.
Outside the shuttle, a clerk was waiting to take them to the passenger terminal. Some of his fellow passengers looked a sickly green, as if the free fall at the station's core was hard for them to take. Sulieman grinned at a private, whose collar showed the winged wrench of a spacecraft mechanic, as the younger man struggled to keep his breakfast down.
At the passenger terminal, Sulieman skipped the baggage claim area, as he was the only passenger on his flight without baggage. Instead, he joined the line to leave the arrival terminal.
"Just assigned here," he said as he handed over his ID.
The clerk touched Sulieman's ID to his console and read the results. "The 2nd Interstellar Communications Squadron." He pointed to a bank of elevators. "Take the blue elevator to Level Three. Room 3059."
Retrieving his ID, Sulieman went to the elevators and pushed the blue call button. By the time the elevator arrived, nearly a dozen others surrounded him.
Sulieman pressed the button for his floor, then slipped to the back of the elevator. Others pushed various buttons - there were over a hundred floor buttons by the door - as they crowded in.
"Grab a bar, everyone," a tall black woman said as the doors closed. Sulieman obeyed, but several others didn't.
The elevator began with a strange backwards motion, then it rotated sideways. A blonde woman bounced chest-first off Sulieman with the elevator's motion. Sulieman shrugged, both hands on the grab bar, as the woman glared at him. That's why you follow instructions in unfamiliar places.
Then the elevator began moving more normally. As it went down, Sulieman felt weight slowly return. The blonde was the first to leave, at level 82.
"Did you know that would happen?" Sulieman asked after the doors closed.
The woman turned. In the less-crowded elevator, Sulieman could just make out the top of an enlisted chevron on her right collar.
"It's not a bad rule of thumb, Sir," she replied. "At many station cores, the elevators are put together in a bank. But they all go down different spokes of the station."
"I thought most stations were cylinders," Sulieman said.
"They are, Sir. But elevator shafts tend to be arranged like spokes, anyway. They're just spokes inside the cylinder."
After this exchange, others in the elevator began talking to each other. Sulieman returned to watching the floor display. The elevator stopped every fifteen or twenty levels, more likely to let people out than take them in. When his floor arrived, Sulieman and the black woman were the last from the passenger terminal. Both headed for the door at the same time.
"You first, Sir," she said.
With a shrug, Sulieman led the way out. On the wall opposite the elevator was a sign with room numbers. He turned in the direction of descending numbers and began walking.
After his third room, Sulieman realized he had made a bad decision. If his destination was down this hall, it was a long way down. He stopped, facing Room 3959, and pulled out his pocket computer again. It interfaced with the station's network, then displayed a map of the station.
Blue Sector, like the other rainbow-hued sectors, was a wedge of the station, running from one end to the other. Zooming in for detail, he saw that the nondescript rooms he had passed were quarters for senior officers assigned to the station garrison. Further study showed his destination was a kilometer and a half down the hallway.
He keyed for transport, and saw that a tube station was available. In fact, if he had gone left instead of right, he would already be there.
Sighing, Sulieman turned and strode to the tube station. Sulieman arrived in time to see a car leave without him. Sulieman meditated on his navigational abilities while he waited for the next car.
Sulieman took the tube to the station nearest his destination without further wrong turns, although he kept studying the map just in case.
The numbered "rooms" were much farther apart at this end of the station. Squadron or battalion crests decorated most of them. Room 3059 was no exception. The crest showed a five-point star with lightning bolts trailing from its bottom. A circle surrounded the lightning bolts, and more lightning bolts surrounded the star. The entire crest was depicted in unappealing shades of blue-green and yellow-orange.
Sulieman studied the crest, trying to imagine it on his uniform. Then he shrugged and pressed the admittance key.
Inside were administrative offices for the squadron. Sulieman studied the doors, then went to S-2.
Most of the workstations in the room were empty. A private glanced up, then snapped to attention as Sulieman entered.
"New arrival," Sulieman said as he handed over his ID.
The private touched the ID to his workstation, then looked at the screen. "Yes, Sir. You're to report to Company C, Captain Perez."
"Shouldn't I check in first?" Sulieman asked as he received his ID back.
"You just did, Sir," the private replied. "We were expecting you. As far as I know, everything's in order."
"Is this the usual procedure?"
The private looked at Sulieman. "Sir, usually Sergeant Cragg handles incoming officers. But he's not here. And your record is flagged to send you to your company commander immediately."
"Ah. It's just that the Academy, then the Pilot's School, had a more elaborate checking-in procedure."
"Sir, officers are managed differently than enlisted. It's entirely likely that you'll be back, but I don't know why. But, even if Sergeant Cragg were here, you'd see Captain Perez first."
"Which way to Captain Perez, then?"
"Sir, if you turn left outside the door, he's about fifty meters down the hall on the right."
Sulieman had enough time to wonder if he was in trouble before he found the door marked Company C. He pushed the admittance pad and stepped in.
An older man wearing the three stripes and three rockers of a First Sergeant stopped pacing and turned to face Sulieman. After studying him a moment, he turned to an open door.
"Cap'n! Lieutenant Osmanli's here!"
"Lieutenant! Get in here!"
Sulieman marched through the door, stopped the correct distance from the desk, and saluted his first real commander.
Captain Perez was a pale-skinned, dark-haired man of perhaps thirty. He studied Sulieman from under lowered brows. After a moment, he touched the switch that closed his office door. After a moment more, he returned the salute, allowing Sulieman to drop his hand to his side.
"Lieutenant. Do you know why I asked to see you first?"
"No, Sir."
"Lieutenant, I had a call an hour ago. From the CEO. He wants to talk to you. And he doesn't sound happy." Perez leaned forward and steepled his hands. "What kind of security breach did you manage to do, Lieutenant?"
"Ah. We appear to have a difference of opinion, Sir."
"You're not answering me, Lieuteuant."
Sulieman took a deep breath. "Sir, you're aware of who my father is?"
"Lieutenant, what does . . . " Perez paused a moment, then twitched. He laid his wrists on the optical pickups on his desk, then closed his eyes. After perhaps five seconds, he opened his eyes and studied Sulieman more closely. "Lieutenant, I admit the possibility hadn't even occurred to me. I thought there wasn't much chance of the CEO's son being assigned to my command. I had assumed the name was a coincidence."
"Sir. I wish I didn't have to disillusion you."
Perez twitched a bitter smile at that.
"Anyway, Sir, when I arrived at Fort Blackstone, the CEO's Guard insisted on not showing their ID to the gate guard. I showed mine, and managed to slip inside while the CEO's Guard argued with the gate guard. When I left the gate, the gate guard was keeping the CEO's Guard from chasing after me. It probably went downhill from there."
"Surely this isn't the first time you've entered a military installation with them?"
"Sir, for some reason, they didn't feel a need to guard me at the Academy. Or at the Pilot's School. But they were acting like they thought I needed guarding again, now that I have a real assignment, rather than training."
"Perhaps, from their point of view, you do."
"Perhaps, Sir." Sulieman shrugged. "But I can imagine them trying to put a half dozen on board when I take Sendmail outsystem."
"But a Messenger doesn't have that much life support!" Perez objected.
"I didn't think so, Sir. And the sooner we dissuade them of this, the better, I think."
Captain Perez nodded, then waved at the chair. "All right, Osmanli. I want to hear your discussion with the CEO, however."
"Yes, Sir."
Perez turned his comm console to face Sulieman. Sulieman punched in his father's private comm combination. After a brief pause, the screen lit up with Selim's face.
"Sulieman! Why did you abandon your security like that?"
"Dad, my security was around me. Your security got huffy about showing ID cards. And I didn't want to be declared AWOL while two sets of guards argued over who took precedence."
Selim looked confused. "My security?"
"Dad, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a military officer now. I've got a job to do, and waiting while the CEO's Guard decides whether of not it will deign to follow the rules keeps me from that job." Sulieman cocked his head in sudden worry. "Or am I a military officer? Is this -" he waved at his uniform, "- just a sinecure to keep me out of trouble?"
Selim stared at Sulieman for several seconds. "They say that letting go is hard. Until now I didn't know what they meant."
Sulieman watched as Selim drummed his fingers. "Very well. I'll tell the Guard to treat you like a military officer from now on."
"Thanks, Dad."
"What if there's a security alert?"
"They can pass it on to CID. If it's serious enough, and the MPs are sufficiently overworked, they might wind up guarding me again. But I'd like them to work together, not fight each other."
"I'll pass that along."
Selim cut the connection. Sulieman turned the pickup back to Captain Perez.
"That was . . . interesting," Perez said.
"Yes, Sir. Most fathers would have had similar discussions before the son left for the Academy. Or at the Academy gates. Sometimes Dad's a little slow on the uptake."
"Too busy working?" Perez offered.
"Maybe, Sir. On call, all day and night, every day. With the most efficient signal battalion we've got to make it easy to get in touch with him." Sulieman thought a moment. "Yes, he's distracted by work pretty often."
Sulieman looked at his new commander. Captain Perez seemed less unhappy with him than when he'd walked in.
"If we're lucky, Sir, you'll be able to forget who my father is now."
Perez grimaced. "I doubt that'll be possible."
"Anyway, Sir, please treat me like any other second lieutenant."
"Since I've never had a second lieutenant as a subordinate starship commander, this won't be difficult. You're in a class of one, no matter how I look at things."
Perez thought a moment. "Have you checked in at Battalion?"
"Yes, Sir. The Private at S-2 said I had, anyway. But he seemed uncertain if they'd need me back."
"Well, if they ask for you, you'll just have to trot back and take care of whatever it is. I'd give you the new-command briefing, but your crew is due today, and I'd prefer to only say these things once." Perez drummed his fingers, then opened his desk. He pulled out a data card and handed it across.
"This is the commander's version of your people's personnel records. Since you're commanding a starship, you're officially a commander. Technically." Perez let a small smile escape. "You've only got Nonjudicial Punishment authority, and that's only when you're outsystem. So don't let it go to your head."
"No, sir. If you've got nothing else, I'll study these records."
Perez cocked his head. "Do you know what you're looking for?"
Sulieman shrugged. "Not as well as you would, Sir. But I figure, the more I know, the less chance of me sounding like an ignorant butterbar."
"As opposed to an informed butterbar?" Perez chided.
Sulieman shrugged. "Everyone makes mistakes, Sir. And newbies tend to make more. But I like to keep my count as near zero as possible."
"I applaud the sentiment, Lieutenant. The next office is free. You can study the records there."
"Sir." Sulieman came to attention, saluted, and marched out of Perez's office.