Demeter (10 page)

“Savings or debit?”

“Savings?”

“There is a balance of one hundred credits. This will be increased by one hundred credits every ten days.” A somewhat tinny voice responded.

“Debit?”

“You have an opening balance of one thousand credits, which will be increased by one thousand credits every ten days.”

“What can one thousand credits buy?” Ryder asked.

“I’m sorry. I cannot answer that question. You may want to review the catalog and menu of your computer.”

After several tries he was able to get a menu to activate. At the cafeteria, he could buy a meal for three or four credits. At the restaurant with the linen table cloths, prices were ten times that amount. “No wonder Miss Li didn’t want to take us there,” he said with a laugh.

Ryder started rummaging through more materials on his bed. The tinny voice returned, making him jump. “Is there anything else we can do to serve you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Ryder replied in an irritated voice.

Among the papers and items that he perused on the bed, he came across a flat card about the size of his student ID card at home. The instructions that came with the card identified it as his new computer. “Boy, that’s smaller than a smart phone,” he said. But he soon discovered that he could expand or contract the screen to any size he wanted by sweeping or brushing his fingers across the surface. According to the instructions, the system could stretch to a wall-sized unit, although the pixilation would become somewhat distorted once the screen size exceeded fifty-six inches. He decided to see just how wide he could stretch the unit, and soon had it covering all of the open space on his floor. The instructions were right. The picture really began to distort after fifty-six inches. He was just looking over more of the instructions when the tinny voice from his bank chip returned.

“Is there anything else we can do to serve you?”

This was getting irritating. “No, I’m fine.” He thought a moment and then tentatively asked, “Good-bye?”

“Good-bye, William Ryder. Feel free to call anytime.”

Returning to the technical guide for his new computer, Ryder was surprised at how easy it was to follow the instructions. He learned that he also had a compact unit that operated remotely off the operating system. It could be inserted into his eye like a contact lens. He had no interest in sticking something in his eye, so he set the compact aside. Finally, about two hours before rising, he dozed off on the bed amongst his newfound treasures.

Ryder awoke to the pestering sound of his sister’s voice in his ear. “Ryder, wake up. You’re late.” Then a little louder. “Ryder!” He jumped.

“Dweeb, leave me alone.”

“Oh good, you’re up. Hey, we’re having breakfast. You are supposed to be to your assignment in about thirty minutes. I’m off. I’ll see you this evening.”

“Huh? What do you mean ‘assignment’? And where do you think you’re going?”

“Becky and I are apprenticed to Joshua for the next few weeks. We need to be down to the terminal in a few minutes, and I’m on my way now. Didn’t you read your assignment last night?”

Ryder realized as his head was starting to clear that he had not finished going through the contents of his package. He started rifling through more papers and materials, and finally found one entitled “Service assignment.” Scanning through the one page, official-looking document, he read that he was to report to the SPC on the 442
nd
floor. The paper gave a map of how to get there, going to the observation deck, then back into the mountain through the door that read “Authorized Personnel Only,” then to an elevator that would take him down to the 442
nd
floor. He was to report to Perthola Steerman, Director of SPC, at 0800 sharp. “That’s in twenty-five minutes,” he said, inhaling sharply.

Ryder was still in his clothes from the previous day. He grabbed a clean shirt, raced into the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and ran his fingers through his now wet hair.
Guess that will do it
, he thought. He grabbed two energy bars from the kitchenette, realizing this was starting to become a bad habit, especially as they didn’t taste that great, and raced out the door. He actually reached the entryway to the 442
nd
floor with one minute to spare. “Made it.” He sighed.

The plaque next to the front door read “Strategic Planning Center.” He took a deep breath and walked in. Inside was a reception area with a young man no older than himself sitting at the desk.

“May I help you?” The young man was tall, even sitting behind the desk. He had flaming red hair, and his face was covered in freckles.

“I’m here to meet with…” Ryder paused, realizing that he had forgotten the name on the paper. He heard a voice from the side.

“I suspect he is here to meet with Perthola Steerman.” Ryder turned and noticed Mr. Small and Cynthia sitting next to each other in a small waiting area.

“I believe that’s correct,” Ryder responded sheepishly.

“And you are?” The young man’s sharp blue eyes reflected impatience.

“I’m Ryder.”

“Ryder what?” the receptionist challenged.

“Oh, sorry, William Ryder.”

“Yes, you do have an appointment. Director Steerman will be with you shortly.” The young man gave a single nod of the head, and Ryder fully understood he was to join the others in the waiting area.

A few minutes later they were all advised that Director Steerman would meet with them in conference room C. Again, with a nod of his head, the receptionist gave them enough information to know exactly where to go. They turned down the hallway and proceeded past two doorways to a third with a large C on it. “I guess this is the place,” Cynthia nervously whispered.

The door was ajar, so they walked into a vacant room that had a round table and several chairs. The wall was polished black stone. The table was shaped out of a speckled granite. The chairs were not made out of stone, but rather a light colored, but solid, wood. Ryder walked over to the window that overlooked the sea and watched the barge-type vessels that were moving up the coast on the still waters. Cynthia joined him and smiled. “I think I will never grow weary of this view.”

“Me either. What’s that over there?” He could see one of the hoppers fluttering from side to side, like it was trying to be a butterfly. He suddenly laughed. “I think they’ve put Dweeb behind the steering wheel again.”

Cynthia rose to Debbie’s defense. “You know, it could be Becky. I suspect that flying the hopper will come naturally to Debbie. I’m not so sure about Becky. I watched her play softball once, and she couldn’t seem to bend her elbows or knees. I don’t think she’s that coordinated.”

“Ahem,” came a throat-clearing cough as a short, heavyset woman entered the room. Her demeanor showed she was clearly in charge. She was wearing a grey jacket and gray slacks with a darker grey strip down the outer side of her pant leg. She had several hash marks up one side of the right sleeve of her jacket, and an insignia of some sort on her collar that Ryder could not decipher. Even Mr. Small stood up straighter as she entered. The woman had that greenish-brown hue that identified her as a Cryellian. Ryder realized that he had not seen that many Cryellians in Europe, perhaps a few dozen. He still found the orange-speckled eyes distracting.

“Everyone, be seated,” the Director said in a clipped voice. “Roger, I see from the reports that you and Miss Li have returned with seven candidates. I thought you were recruiting nine.”

Mr. Small shrugged. “Three of the candidates moved before we were able to recruit them for the trip to Europe. We inadvertently picked up one additional candidate, but she is already doing well. Hence, seven,” Mr. Small stated in a matter-of-fact tone. He did not seem intimidated.

“Ms. Flores, Mr. Ryder, are you aware of why you are here?”

“Something about being drafted for a year,” Ryder responded.

“It’s much more complicated than that. You also have rights to be here. Mr. Small, have you explained that as well?”

“Not yet.” Mr. Small seemed troubled. “The Director-General prefers that conscripts discover Demeter on its own merits.”

“Hmmm…well, his judgment on these Earth matters is something I rely on. If I try to start second-guessing the foolish tactics of Terrans and lieutenants, I’d be in a perpetual state of apprehension and dismay.” She paused. “It is what it is,” she said, and returned to her papers.

“You’re a lieutenant?” Ryder whispered in Mr. Small’s direction.

“Mr. Small is not a lieutenant in the sense of rank. From a Rank perspective, Mr. Small is a major in the DDF, excuse me, Demeter Defense Force,” Director Steerman explained. “He also holds a captaincy in the Sagittarian League, which is extremely rare for people from your planet.”

Apparently, Mr. Small decided to return the favor. “Director Steerman is a colonel in the DDF, and the Cryellian ambassador to Demeter. She is actually the second in command of the joint Demeter Defense Force.”

Ryder decided to take the plunge. “That brings up an interesting question. I have seen plenty of people from Earth here and at Arion, but I haven’t seen a lot of Cryellians in either place. Yet it seems there should be…”

“More of us?” Director Steerman interjected. “Actually, you will periodically see Europe and Arion flooded with Cryellians; however, the Cryellians handle most of the exterior work, space defense, while personnel from Earth handle most of the land-based maintenance and defensive structure. It seems to work better than trying to integrate forces.” She smiled sardonically at Mr. Small.

An awkward silence followed until Cynthia asked, “So what are Ryder and I supposed to do?”

Director Steerman immediately drew back from her thoughts. “You and Mr. Ryder have been selected as trainees in the SPC. Ryder has the heritage and demeanor for strategic planning. In your case, Ms. Flores, you have expressed a special interest in the medical field, which is actually housed with SPC because of the complex nature of medicine both on and off world. Is that satisfactory?”

Cynthia beamed. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

“And you, Ryder?”

“I guess that’s all right. I’ve always enjoyed strategy games.”

“So let the games begin,” Mr. Small said.

Director Steerman made a whispered call on her bug,. Shortly, two escorts were at the door. “Ms. Flores and Mr. Ryder, I believe you’ve met Lieutenant Aster Freeport—and in this case, lieutenant is the right word—and Ensign Duncan Steerman, my son.” The director scowled, and Ensign Steerman turned a bright shade of green. “They will escort you to your new assignments and help with your orientation.

Ryder got paired with Lieutenant Freeport and followed him down a series of hallways that led to a large room, but no other people. “Okay, grub, looks like I’m your nursemaid this week. This is the simulated control center. I’ll be introducing you to systems, then take you through some elementary scenarios.”

“Look, if we’re going to work together, can we knock off the insults. You can call me Ryder? What do you want me to call you?”

“How about Lieutenant Freeport?” came a snarky reply.

“How about Aster?” Ryder responded neutrally, holding out his hand.

Aster stared at Ryder for several seconds and finally released a long breath, “Okay, Aster will be fine, but don’t try it with Duncan. I’d stick with Ensign Steerman with him for a while.”

“Why? What did I do to him?”

“You got us both grounded for a week,” Aster responded dolefully as he started working the controls of the computer.

“Grounded? You seem a bit old to be grounded. And how did I manage to do that anyway?” Ryder snapped back.

“Well, it was a stretch that we were able to get to Arion to see you grubs—sorry, I mean Terrans—arrive.” Aster’s voice softened a bit. “We wanted to see what you looked like. So we took the last couple of days of our leave to see you. That was supposed to be it, but we wound up creating a bit of an incident. Once we were found out, Duncan’s mother had a fit. She grounded our entire squadron, so you can imagine how popular we are in the squadron right now. By the way, that unpopularity extends to you as well.”

Ryder stood in awe. “To see us? There are thousands of us all over Demeter. What’s to see?”

“You don’t know?” Aster seemed genuinely surprised.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, it’s not my place to say then.” Aster leered. “You’ll have to get Major Small to brief you.”

Ryder tried much of the rest of the day to get more out of Aster about but to no avail. On the other hand, Aster was very informative on the setup of the Simulated Control Center. It was a gamer’s dream world. Holistic, three-dimensional shapes came across the walls and center of the room. Ryder tried to count how many different computers were operating at a given time, but he couldn't figure it out as the systems interfaced seamlessly.

Ryder and Aster started with simple two-dimensional graphics, and then moved to two-dimensional pictures of the inner views of the interior of Demeter. Ryder then learned how to manipulate the views into three-dimensional settings. After that, Aster showed him the exterior views, including visualizations up to a light year in all directions. They went back to sightseeing the interior of the waters and islands of Demeter. Aster finally said, definitively, “Enough. I’ve had enough for one day. Tomorrow we can get into the simulations.”

“But we’ve hardly started,” Ryder complained.

“I agree, but we worked right through lunch, and the facilities lock up in another thirty minutes. Steerman is probably ready to do a dead drop from the observation deck by now, with or without a chute.”

Ryder suddenly realized the grumbling sound he was hearing had been his stomach rebelling against his lack of lunch. He looked at the wall clock and realized it was after 1800. “Okay, what time do we start tomorrow?”

“How about eight hundred?”

“How about six hundred?”

“Let’s settle for seven hundred, then. But I’m having lunch tomorrow.” Aster smiled sincerely for the first time all day.

Cynthia was waiting for Ryder as he came out the “Authorized Personnel Only” door. “Well, how was your first day? I didn’t see you at lunch. I ate with Duncan.”

“Duncan. He lets you call him Duncan?” Ryder queried suspiciously as he pushed the button to the elevator to take them up to the observation deck level.

“I didn’t give him any choice.” She laughed. “He seems to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.”

“Yes, I can imagine. I suspect everyone on his team would like to strangle him right now.” Ryder added in an off-handed manner as they entered the elevator.

“What do you mean?” Cynthia looked truly curious.

“Well, he and Aster led a spy mission to Arion, just to see us arrive. They weren’t supposed to make contact, so they wound up getting their whole wing, or team, or squad, or something grounded,” Ryder said as they arrived at the 445th floor.

“That’s not the only thing I learned,” Cynthia whispered conspiratorially. “He’s the son of the Director.”

“Yeah, we both heard that.” Ryder automatically blocked the elevator door open for Cynthia as they emerged from the elevator.

“Well, as the Director’s only child, he is likely to inherit her seat eventually. It’s kind of like some nobility class thing up here,” Cynthia said as she walked the view area of the observation deck. “This is so beautiful.” She exhaled slowly, taking in the vista. Turning back toward Ryder, she said, “He was already unpopular with a lot of his peers. It showed, even when eating lunch. He would have been eating alone if I hadn’t insisted that we eat together. No one else wanted to be around him.”