Free The Methuselan Circuit by Christopher L. Anderson Page B

officer, but he never says anything about it. I figured he never did anything interesting.”
     
    “Sounds like he was a Spook,” James smiled, giving Alexander a dig in the ribs.
     
    “He was not!” Alexander said vehemently. The Spooks, or Space Rangers as they were unofficially officially known—there was no official recognition that they existed but everyone knew they really did—they were almost mythical figures in Service lore belonging to both the Fleet and the Legions. Supposedly they were assassins, spies, lawmen—whatever the powers that be needed them to be. They kept the peace in nasty places, but they kept it violently. The military would neither confirm nor deny their existence, but the mere rumor of a Spook or a Ranger on a frontier world or even in a backwater town on Terra was enough to make the bad people melt right back into the shadows.
     
    “Alright, sorry Alexander, I was just kidding,” James said and he shrugged. “Thing is, at least you have a Dad that Served. I don’t even know why I’m here. I’m not officer material. I’d be happy just to be a Settler—really. This is for kids like you that have big ideas, or kids like Lisa with big brains. I’m not going to get too comfortable. Pretty soon they’ll realize their mistake and send me packing, but it’s not going to be on Terra! I’ll go anywhere, just not there.”
     
    “Well you’re here now, and you’re in our flight,” Alexander said, pointing to his compad. We’ve got to twenty minutes to eat and forty minutes before we’re due in class, so we better get going.”
     
    Indeed, they were among the last to leave. Realizing this they hurried out of the rotunda and headed for mess hall. On the way out the starboard corridor they passed beneath the watchful eyes of the Commandant, Admiral Hinohosa and Centurion Fjallheim. Out of all the cadets leaving the auditorium the three officers picked them out and followed them with their eyes, muttering under their breath.
     
    #
     
    “What are the odds that three cadets from the same small town would end up in the same class?” Augesburcke asked the question as if talking to himself. His voice was barely above the rumble and the buzz of the exodus of cadets.
     
    “Astronomical,” Centurion Fjallheim said, his perpetual scowl deepening.
     
    “Less than that,” Admiral Hinohosa added gravely. “I checked the records. There haven’t been any more than two from the same town of that size in the last seventy-five years; that happened only twice, and each time the students had parents who graduated from the Academy.”
     
    “Alexander Wolfe’s father did serve,” Augesburcke reminded her.
     
    “Yes and young Alexander fits the Academy profile very well. He has some confidence issues because of his size but his leadership quotient is quite high. However, the parents of the other cadets have no such history, at least no history I can find. One has a mother in the FBI, but he doesn’t stand out academically. He’s got a high determination profile more suitable to a Settler—he’d stand a very good chance of being a Community Leader. The young lady scores extremely high academically,” Hinohosa told him. “Even more intriguing to me is the fact there was a fourth candidate. She lost her slot because of attitude problems in the First Flight ride, but she was by all the data the most qualified candidate from the town, maybe even the most qualified candidate in the entire class.”
     
    “If she is all that then we may still have to deal with her next year,” Augesburcke growled. “For now, we have these three; three cadets that shouldn’t be here—not all at once.”
     
    “Should we separate them,” Centurion Fjallheim asked. “If there’s something behind this other than coincidence perhaps we should make complicity that much more difficult.”
     
    “No, as the great warlord Lincoln said of his cabinet; let’s keep all the dangerous people in one spot