A Tempest in a Teapot - 1. Chapter 1

It wouldn’t be fair to say Scott hated his current assignment, though it wouldn’t be unfair to say it either.

Terran Confederation Fleet Command required all officers to serve at least one term at the Terran Confederation University for Planetary Sciences. T-CUPS. There was a special place in hell reserved for the person who came up with that.

Scott did not put up too much of a fuss about the assignment because it meant he could stay with his husband while he completed his final semester on his doctorate. Command already cleared him to be assigned to Scott’s new command, the TCS Discovery. The Discovery was a brand-new exploration class vessel that was wrapping up its construction and outfitting with jump engine tests and calibrations.

If Scott had to be stuck on a planet, there were far worse places to be stuck than the T-CUPS campus.

It was located on a thirty-thousand-acre spread in the Finger Lakes region of Upstate New York. The remarkably rural university took advantage of the area’s farming heritage as well as the agricultural specialties of the surrounding colleges to develop methods for sustaining human colonies on distant barely habitable planets. While it was the very opposite of what most space-obsessed guys like himself would want, Scott did like that it was isolated, and he only had to deal with a limited number of people.

The school specialized in isolating groups of people so they could experience what it would be like away from Earth. The isolation was necessary to address the issue of essentially empty colony worlds that most graduates of the university would be living on. Those students who weren’t otherwise selected for the Terran Confederation Fleet or the Colonial Militia, that is.

Scott Masterson, age twenty-two, was already a graduate of the accelerated officer program for the Confederation Fleet. He had done outstanding in his practical as well as the engineering programs, so he got assigned his own ship. The fleet was expanding as fast as they could train people, and Scott had long shown the qualities necessary for being successful in deep space exploration. Wrapping up at T-CUPS was the last thing he had to do before joining his ship for the final shakedown and configuration work. Command took personnel observations at T-CUPS by trained officers seriously to make certain that people unsuited for colony work were screened out or sent to established colonies more suited to their skills and desires.

The Terran Confederation learned the hard way that if you wanted a colony to be successful, you had to send hard-nosed, stubborn, independent, problem solvers. Sending someone who was inclined to wait for help would see death before help could even get there. Unfortunately, society on Earth headed in the opposite direction, preferring people who followed the rules and depended on the government to solve their problems, especially during emergencies. It worked, mostly, on Earth, but it sure as hell didn’t work on a colony.

Scott approached the transport tube in the residence area and selected the 200^th floor of the giant archology. The giant building was a fully self-contained and functioning city. It had all elements necessary for five thousand people to live and thrive. Although, you would never know so many people were there. They did a fabulous job in creating a self-contained learning environment spread all over the building with the A.I. working to keep people isolated to their own groups.

It took a few minutes to walk to the meeting room at the top. It was the first time in the last four months that he had worn his uniform. And he wore the dress blues. Entering the classroom last ensured all his classmates were in the room.

“Officer on Deck!”

Civilians or not, everyone rose.

“At ease. It is time for your assignments. As you have no doubt recognized me, let me reintroduce myself to you. I am Terran Confederation Systems Fleet Officer Captain Scott Masterson. All of you have been evaluated, trained, tested and covertly interviewed. I have also been evaluating you to help provide the placement officers with the peer perspective they need to make you and the Terran Confederation successful.”

“You’ve been spying on us?”

“Everybody and everywhere is monitored at all the times by something. I don’t believe you are that naïve, Mr. Smith.”

“But college is supposed to be about experimenting.”

“It is, Mr. Smith, but most people don’t take it so far as to try to become a doorknob.”

“What do you mean by doorknob, Captain?” another student asked.

“Everyone gets a turn, Ms. West.”

“I didn’t get one. The bastard turned me down.”

“I don’t think his interests lie in what you have to offer, Ms. West. You certainly should not take it personally.”

“Hey, I’m still in the room.”

“Yes, but then you’ve strived for attention your entire time here, so us chatting about you should make you happy. Your assignment is the governmental colony on Proxima. Your skillset will be well-suited there.”

“Great! That’s where I wanted to go.”

“Yes, we know. It works out great that Proxima is what best suits you. Any volunteers for who gets told next?”

A young lady raised her hand.

“Excellent, Ms. Vasquez. You have been assigned as a geologist and pilot in the exploration fleet. Further, based on your extracurricular flight training, I have recommended you be accepted into combat flight school for the fleet. They need highly motivated people with diverse skillsets. Your combat flight training in the simulator is outstanding. You have already passed all your required simulator time, and if you choose to go to combat flight school, you’ll be doing all real flight time in the fleet.”

“They are letting me in?”

“Ms. Vasquez, they would be fools if they didn’t. They need motivated people who have the skillset and the desire to be the best. The other thing they need is people to seize the opportunity when it is presented. Every pilot in this room at some point was presented with combat training modules. Only two of you tried them and kept going with them. And you, Ms. Vasquez, were the only one who was already a flight officer.”

“Next? Anyone?”

Nobody volunteered.

“Very well,” Scott said while reviewing his tablet. “Mr. O’Kelly. You need to go to a larger colony world. Did you have a preference between Proxima and Alpha Centauri Four?”

“I wanted to go to a small colony so I can make a difference.”

“Ah, good intentions. You are a journalism major. A journalist’s purpose is to report the news, not ‘make a difference.’”

“That’s not true. Journalists can make a difference!”

“In what way?”

“I would dig deep and find the corruption and expose it in the news.”

“And then what? Make it big and get a cushy job on Proxima or back here on Earth? I hate to break it to you, but there is no corruption in the colonies because there aren’t enough people to corrupt or do the corrupting. If you want to sniff out corruption, there is plenty of it here on Earth. Though the competition is much higher here with so many do-gooders trying to ‘make a difference’ with their good intentions.”

“I’m offended that you think journalism has no place in society!”

“I see you are modeling yourself after the early twenty-first century propagandists who successfully masqueraded as journalists. That sort of thing is a much better fit here on Earth or the colony at Alpha Centauri Four. To be clear here, I in no way said or implied journalism has no place in society. That is your false narrative spin to the words I used.”

“Alpha Centauri Four is the outcast colony! You can’t send me there.”

“There are nine continents on that planet, and only three of them belong to the outcasts. Even they have had their fill of do-gooders and are no longer accepting colonists from Earth. So, no, not the outcast colonies, I meant the administrative colony there. There is plenty of grift and corruption. It’s a wretched hive of scum and villainy. They are always looking for journalists there.”

A hand went up.

“Yes, Ms. Vasquez?”

“Are you deliberately sending him to a colony where it is very likely he’ll be killed?”

“Killed? Heavens no. Humans are too valuable as Lewerren Slaves. I don’t think anyone is killed in the colonies outside a crime of passion or insanity for years. Now, disappearing can happen.”

The young man was as white as a sheet.

“Mr. O’Kelly, you are quite ill-suited to a small colony as you have no technical skills, no farming skills, and no survival skills. When all of those were put on your class lists, you avoided them all. As such, you have zero value to a colony. This limits your options to planets that have a strong foundation of society. That means either the administrative colony on Proxima or the administrative colony on Alpha Centauri Four. You can also choose to leave the program and stay here on Earth, where you can certainly make a difference if you are truthful and motivated.”

“You are discriminating against me because of my Irish descent.”

“Mr. O’Kelly, society has grown up and moved past victimology. Everybody is judged on their own merits and the content of their character. Not upon the color of their skin, the religion they worship, who they love, how they look, how much government they think is enough or their adherence to doomed sports teams. It’s rather pleasant to embrace true diversity and work together to make something greater than the sum of its parts. That’s the ideal of Terran Confederation life. Embrace it. I’m assigning you to Proxima as you’ll be able to follow through on your good intentions and keep those politicians honest.”

“Fine.”

The classroom door crashed open as a Sergeant in his Battle Dress Uniform came into the room. He spotted the Captain and quickly went to him. He handed over a device, which immediately displayed a hologram to read after confirming his identity.

“Captain, there has been a Lewerren attack at Drydock 8. The Discovery was hit but appeared to jump successfully. Retrieve your husband and return to Outreach station immediately. Transport is standing by at the launch facility.”

Scott looked at his husband in the back of the room. “Grab our stuff and meet me at the launch facility.”

As his husband hustled out of the room, Scott addressed the class. “There has been an incident, and I have been recalled to the fleet headquarters. Good luck with your placements. An officer will give you the rest of your assignments as soon as possible. Dismissed.”