"News From Home"

“Come on Cliff, Alison’s bringing a friend. I am sure she is … uh … available.”

Cliff slouched further into the old desk chair as he watched Del checking his already perfect hair in the pitted mirror that hung from the back of the door. 

“Available for you maybe … so long as Alison isn’t around.  But I’m not Delmore Jamieson the third.” Cliff deliberately exaggerated the ‘r’ to take the sting out of his bitterness.  He really didn’t want to watch Del go out again.   

“Oh … come on … don’t be stupid,” Del turned and leaned against the edge of the cupboard by the door.  “The girls do like you, you know.  Goodness knows why, ya big oaf.”

“Oh get lost, girlie boy,” Cliff said shortly.

Del laughed.  Cliff had shared this small dorm room with him for five months now and knew he could rag him about his pretty face.  It had taken him two months to get used to it though.  This banter had seemed odd to him at first, coming from his staid family where quiet courtesy was a watchword.   Educated at his outpost home by a tutor he had few of his own age to make friends with.  This large school had been both frightening and new.

Del, however, had seemed comfortable harassing Cliff from the moment he ducked his head under the doorway on the day before term started.  Del had sat straight up on the bed as soon as he saw him. 

“Goodness, look at the size of you boy. And what are those things at the end of your arms, spades? Well, I am sure glad they could work the handle, or you would have punched that great noggin right through the door.”  It had never seemed mean though.  Just friendly.  Cliff felt one of the boys right from the start, largely because of Del. 

“I am Del,” he had said cheerfully, holding out a hand, “and sometimes DJ3 although I hate that, so Del is fine.”  It had been a whole week before he had found out that Del was a Jamieson, one of the great families and regular member of the Council.

He didn’t look so noble at the moment as he and cast his lanky frame backwards onto the narrow bed.  He almost looked petulant.

“You can’t tell me you have work to do,” said Del.  “Its only January and we don’t have another bank of exams for six months.  And I know how meticulous are about getting started on assignments early.  You are probably half done the February logistics paper already.  One night out is not going to hurt the top student in the school.”

Del knew all his excuses in advance.  He was laying it on thick about the top student in school bit though.  That was Del himself.  Cliff had long ago realized his roomie was a bit of genius.  With seemingly no effort Del got marks that, although pretty much the same as Cliff’s, were way ahead of anyone else.  But Cliff worked like a dog for his.

Cliff felt like a bit of a heel.  He had been lucky to get Del as a roommate.  Cliff had been a complete outsider, winning a scholarship to come into the best space academy on earth for his final year of school.  Coming into a place where the rich kids and their cliques were well established, a jerk could have made his life miserable.  But Del had been his friend, right from day one. Del deserved the truth.

“Look,” said Cliff.  “Its just that I am a little low in the card right now.  I just can’t afford to go off campus.” 

Del opened his mouth to say something.

“Wait,” interrupted Cliff.  He levered himself from the chair and flopped down onto his bed, across from Del’s.  It creaked ominously.   It wouldn’t break though. Like everything else in the room it had been around for hundreds of years.  The antique desk lamps, screwed down to the edges of the old wooden desks; and the scratched wooden cupboards either side of the door.  Dorms had been built like this for thousands of years because they were pretty functional that way.

“I know you are going to offer to pay, but I just can’t take that.”  Cliff angled his head into the corner of the bed where the wall met the desk and eyed his feet as they dangled off the end of the other end.  “You paid the last time we went out.  I like you.  I know you’re my friend and I know your family has so much money you wouldn’t even notice a hanger on, and you are generous enough not to care.

“But I would care.  I don’t like feeling like a hanger on.  I don’t want to be a parasite.  So you go out with the boys … and the girls,” Cliff smiled at the ceiling, knowing exactly how many would crowd around.  He briefly imagined Del rolling his eyes at him as the flirty ones called him the hated ‘DJ3’.  “I will say here and work on my math.”

He tilted his head up to look over at Del who was staring at he ceiling. “I’m ahead of you in logistics, the math I need to work on.”

“Of course you’re better in logistics,” said Del, still staring at the ceiling, “more room in that monster head of yours to carry around all that detail.” 

They lay there in heavy silence for a few minutes.

“You know,” said Del.  “I feel like a jerk. I forget that you’re a scholarship student.  Look, I’m not gonna just stop going out because that would probably make you feel guilty too.  But I did want to go out with you tonight.  So I’m gonna fire a quick email to Alison and cancel out.  Let’s go down to the Common and shoot some pokie.  Next time you have enough money to go out let me know … don’t wait for an invite.”

Cliff thought for a moment.  He should really press Del to go out on his date, but shooting some pokie sounded like a great idea.  “Deal,” he said, “and if we team up maybe we can win enough to go out tomorrow.  I don’t object at all to you putting up the stakes …”

Del was still laughing as they left the room.

* * *

Sandhurst Academy was several hundred years old.  It was one of the first schools of its kind, built shortly after the Collapse on the site of an ancient military school in the British Isles.  The dormitories were shaped roughly like a six-pointed star.  The points were the wings and the centre was the common.  This is where Del and Cliff went to shoot the pokies.

Cliff had never seen pokies before he had arrived.  They were like big black cockpits on gimbals.  Del had explained it after Cliff had somehow folded himself into the cockpit for the first time. 

“Like all the best games,” Del had began, “shooting pokie is simple.  Once you shut this door and operate the controls the box zooms around like you’re flying it. The inside of the box is like a giant v-helmet.  You will be surrounded by are shapes and different coloured lights.  Each time you fire it up it’s all different.  Some lights you shoot.  Some are your friends.  You can hide behind the shapes and stuff. You can play against the machine but playing against other players is the best. 

“Other schools will have fancier games with fancier graphics.  They may be prettier but pokie is still the best ground level, 3D flight and fight training there is.”

“Why is it called pokie?” Cliff had asked.

“I dunno,” Del had replied. And before he shut the door, whereupon Cliff had ‘died’ almost instantly.

He had become hooked on the game though.  He had to make sure to ration his playing time or else he would fall behind on his academic work.  But he was dedicated and Del was, of course, superlative.  They had become a terrific team.  Del was just a brilliant flier, his box turned on a dime, and his reflexes were fast, very fast.  He seemed to intuit what an opponent would do before they did.  Cliff had to be more methodical and careful.  He always remembered where the shapes were though the course of a game.  He also always remembered the tendencies of their opponents.  It was only two months before they teamed up in the top flight and only another before they became the school’s top pokie team.

“See any patsies?” muttered Del, as they entered the common. He had come to rely on Cliff’s judgement of people. 

“Not yet, they’re all juniors and you scare ‘em so much they have to cross their legs.”

Betting was technically not allowed so it had to be slightly covert.  Cliff noted the juniors looking up at them and moving to one side as he circled the room.  Then he saw them.  There were eight of them and only a year behind Cliff and Del.  One of them wandered up to a first year student who was waiting patiently for his turn at the pokies and whispered something in his ear.  The kid turned and opened his mouth to say something.  Then thought better of it and turned to go.  The others were doing the same.

Cliff glanced at Del.

“Saw it,” said Del, “jerks.  They need a lesson but they won’t take us on.  Not even all together.  Not for coin anyway.”

“He will if we have bait,” said Cliff, and he reached out a hand and snared the young student as he was walking quickly past.  His jaw was clenched, jutting his chin out and his face was red.  He spun and looked up at Cliff.  He was obviously as mad as all getout and not at all intimidated.  Perfect.

“What … sir.”  The kid had guts.  Better still.

“Call me Cliff, we aren’t on duty.  And this here is Del.  What’s your name?”

“Uhh … Jalen ... sir.”  The kid was starting to look confused now.

“Well, are you any good at the pokies Jalensir?”  Cliff could almost feel Del trying not to laugh, but the kid was finally smiled.

“Uh … I guess so  … uh … Cliff.  I have beaten everyone else in my year.”

“Perfect,” said Cliff.

“Jalensir,” chimed in Del, “we have a little proposition for you, and I am paying the stakes.”

* * *

Del and Cliff, strolled over to the pushy student.  Whose name it turned out, was Bertram.  Which absolutely delighted Del.

“Hey Bertie,” said Del.  “Did someone make you king of the pokies?”

Bertram was no fool. 

“No Del that would be you.  Would you care to go first?”

“Don’t be a jackass Bertie – and call me sir please.  Do you think I would act like you and push these kids out of the way when they need practice?  Well, actually, you need the practice more than young Jalen here, but still no way to toss him aside.”

“Sir? I am not sure I understand.”

“Well … young Jalen isn’t much of a player at all.  But for a fourth year student you are really poor.  You do need the practice more than him.”

“Uh … I respectfully disagree sir.”

“You do nothing respectfully, you’re a jackass.  But I can prove your idiocy at the game, there would be a small wager of course.”

“I am not going to take you on for money sir, I am not that good yet.  But I would love to play you for sport.” 

“Hmmmm … how about you your gang of eight against me and my pal Cliffy here?”

“No deal sir, I have watched the two of you play.”

Cliff watched with interest.  Del was playing him like a fish, but would he take the bait. 

“I guess we need a handicap somehow … well, the machines are all the same so we can’t jimmy those.  How about you guys take on some extra team mates?”

Bertram thought for a minute.  “Let me talk to my roommates.”  That was important info for Cliff.  Unlike seniors, the fourth years lived eight to a room, and if these were roommates then they were probably very tight.

Bertram huddled with them and came back a moment later. 

“We still won’t do it that way.  We think the best handicap is for you to take on an extra.  A passenger.  A first year.” 

Bertram shot a look at Jalen as he said this.  He was almost bouncing on his toes so Cliff rested a heavy hand on his shoulder before he gave the game away. 

“… and,” said Bertram looking triumphant, “he has to survive.”

 “What, him?” Del looked stunned and jerked a thumb at Jalen. “You want us to risk 200 Cs carrying a squirt?”  You would never have guessed this was the plan all along.

“Two hundred Cs?”  Bertram licked his lips, before going on more firmly, “Yeah … two hundred Cs.”

“Deal,” said Del, then he turned to Jalen.  “Just remember the plan Jalensir.  I am point, Cliffy will slide in behind me.  You ride under his belly like a calf sucking milk.  Your job is to shoot downward … and that is it.”

Not only did Jalen follow instructions to a T, but he was talented.  Bertie had been good too, very good, but not good enough.  It only took them about two minutes to win their two hundred Cs.

Bertram was already waiting as the three of them exited their pokies.  He was smiling, a bit ruefully, but smiling.  “Learned a lesson today sir, and it wasn’t in the pokies.  We’ll credit your card in the morning.”

“Thanks Bertram,” Del answered, and then he too smiled. “but split it three ways sixty-six to each of us … oh … and don’t call me sir.”

Cliff watched amazed as Bertram laughed.  Del had really charmed this guy, maybe he really had learned a lesson.  Bertram nodded to Jalen and then started to leave.

That was when they saw the Major enter the room.  The Major was the assistant head, he was ramrod straight and tougher than steel.  He marched straight toward them.  Everyone in the room came to attention.  He stopped in front of Cliff and Del.  Cliff could feel the sweat beginning to pool in his armpits. 

“That wasn’t particularly discrete was it?” 

“NO SIR!” they both shouted.

“Hmmm,” the major’s dark eyes were set deep in his head.  Cliff tried to look into them but he could just tell the Major was staring directly at him.  He seemed almost sad rather than angry. 

“Senior Hughes, you will come with me.”

“Yes, sir!” said Cliff, stepping forward.

Astonishingly, Del interrupted, “Permission to speak, sir.”

The Major’s head turned slowly and he fixed his gaze somewhere to Cliff’s left, ‘Yes, Senior Jamieson?”

“I was involved too sir, I should go with Senior Hughes.”

“Me too sir!” said Bertram, stepping forward.  Jalen said nothing but also stepped forward.  Cliff was suddenly very proud of his fellow students.

The Major’s eyes focused back on Cliff.  “Friends of yours Hughes?”

“Yes sir! This is Undersenior Bertie, sir, and Pledge Jalensir, sir!”  There were stifled snickers around the room.  Cliff knew what he was doing.  He did not want to disrespect the Major, or add levity for levity’s sake.  There were two hundred other students in the room, and by bestowing nicknames on them in public, in front of the major like this he had just made them legends.  That was the least they deserved from him.

The Major’s mouth twitched slightly.  He obviously knew his motives, and respected them enough to let it slide. 

“Very well, the Colonel has asked to see you.  It has nothing to do with … whatever may have gone on here earlier.  But it may be difficult for you and it pays to have friends at times like this.  Senior Jamieson, U.S. Bluefield, and Pledge Holland.  You may accompany us.”

As the marched from the room Cliff heard Del mutter behind him.  “Bertram Bluefield? Parents must have hated you …”  Cliff could have sworn he saw the Major’s shoulders twitch as the marched along.

Once out of the dorm complex they crossed on a breezeway past the tall buildings that housed the classrooms to the Head’s house.  It was an imposing home as befits the head of one of the best schools in the world.  Cliff had only been here twice before, and both times he had been forced to wait in the hall before being called in.  He dreaded it.  The chairs were uncomfortable, especially for one of his size.  And he always sweated like a pig when he got nervous. 

They did not have to wait though.  When the Major pushed open the big double doors, the Colonel was waiting for them in the front hall.  He didn’t seem surprised to see an entourage. 

The Colonel might have been the Major’s older brother.  Same size and shape, same black eyes and dark, dark skin, and he also seemed sad somehow. 

“Men, you wait here.  Hughes, please come into my office.”

The Colonel’s office had big double bay windows looking out down the breezeway they had just marched up.  Large book cases lined most of the walls. There was a small model of a C-class destroyer in the corner.  The Colonel pointed to the red chair in front of his desk. 

Cliff watched him slowly circle the desk and sit down in the big chair behind it.  He fidgeted briefly with a piece of paper on his desk for a moment.   Then he looked up from his desk right into Cliff’s eyes, and Cliff knew then it would be terrible news.

“There is no easy way to say this son.  This is an email I have just received from your Uncle.  Your father has died.”

It was the last thing Cliff expected.  He stared at the model in the corner.  The glass case was carefully polished, but the little C-class inside was a slightly dusty.  He felt a tear on his cheek, but didn’t feel any in his eyes. 

“How Sir?” he had to force the words.  His heard his voice waver but he couldn’t control it.  “Some kind of accident?”

“Yes.  His was a hard occupation, and very dangerous.”

The little model was so detailed.  It even had tiny battle scars on the right side of the nose, and scorch marks around the missile ports.  It was definitely a labour of love.  Cliff knew his father would have appreciated it.  He loved attention to detail.  It was what kept him alive so long.

“Do … do you know what happened?” 

“I have no details. He was a mine manager.  We can both guess.”

“Yes sir.”  Cliff didn’t know what to think about.  He tried to picture his father’s face but couldn’t.  All he could see was that damn model in the corner. 

“Hughes?” Cliff dragged his eyes away from the model. “Did you want a few minutes here?”

“No sir, I would rather return to my dorm sir.” 

“Okay then,” Cliff realised that the Colonel fingers were flexing slightly where they rested on the desk.  His face was calm, and reserved but the fingers gave the game away.  Only they showed his agitation.  He had never seen the Colonel look discomfited by anything.

“Hughes, I have arranged for you to miss classes tomorrow.  You have an appointment with the MO at 0h-nine-hundred.  This is not optional.  I have reserved tight beam time for you to contact your family at 14 hundred hours tomorrow.  It was the best I could do.”

Cliff was astonished.  He had never had tightbeam time before.  In fact no student he knew of had. 

“You may go Hughes … and I am sorry.  Terribly sorry.”

The Colonel’s face was stern and sad, and something in it made Cliff know he meant it.