Becoming Chosen

An egalitarian society is fine for the Agricultural Crew, but for the Technical Crew it invites too much discussion and, perhaps, innovation and dissention. For them we must fall back on the military structure, even to the point of subsuming family relationships. There can be no higher loyalty than to the ship and the job of maintenance. There is little enough flexibility for the Agri-Crew, but for the Technical Crew, there can be none.

-Vincent Sandoval, Chair of the Technical Crew Cultural Committee, Sealed Archives

Nesbit stood before the classroom, giving the group of nine-year-old’s a completely neutral face. They were sitting two to a desk, all of them in the light tan shirt and slacks combination warn by the youngest of the Tech. Most of them stared back at him, but there were two or three who looked away or fidgeted. He had long ago learned to note the ones who did this. They invariably turned out to be the ones that needed extra attention and correction.

Having made note of the future trouble-makers he spoke. “Today is an important day for you all. Soon you will begin your apprenticeships in the Way of Maintenance. When you have completed them, you will be full members of the Tech.”

There were a few nods and even two small smiles. It wasn’t only problem cases that were identified at times like this. The girl in the front row who sat at attention was one to mark out for possible officer training.

“Up to now, you have been children, and as children you were given certain latitude in your behavior. But your childhood is coming to an end, and it is my duty as First Officer to explain to you what will be expected and why. Before I start, is there anyone here who thinks they already know what I am talking about?”

Half a dozen small hands stabbed upwards, including the girl in the front row. The name badge on her shirt read Sandoval F. “Miss Sandoval?”

“Sir, we must follow the Way of Maintenance, as it was given to us by the Builders, sir!” she all but chirped.

Nesbit favored her with a rare smile. It was always a bad idea to let any of the crew be too comfortable, but with a bright youngster like this, a small amount of encouragement went a long way. “Very good Ms. Sandoval. But there was a second part. Of course we must adhere to the Way, but why must we?”

“Because the Builders knew what we needed to do to reach the new world?” Sandoval asked, less sure of her answer.

“Just so. Our ship is a vast and complicated machine. All parts of it must work for us to survive. This is why the Builders gave us the Way of Maintenance. And why we must follow it exactly. For nearly six hundred cycles this Way has kept us warm and fed and safe.”

Two boys in the back of the room had their heads together. One nudged the other, who raised his hand. Nesbit narrowed his eyes slightly, and in his coldest tone said, “Yes?”

“Sir, my Dad says that we will be arriving at the new world soon. Then all the Way’s will change.”

There was always at least one. Nesbit couldn’t quite see the name plate on the boy’s shirt, but he would be sure to find out. And find out who his father was. It was bad enough that the man was speaking out against the Way, but to do so to his impressionable child was beyond unacceptable.

“We are nearing the new world. In twenty cycles or so, we will be there. But that is far in the future and not what you should be focused on. If and when it is time to change the Way, the officers will instruct you. Until that time, it is your duty to follow the Way as it is taught to you.”

Nesbit could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. The idea of changing the way was so alien to him it always sent a pulse of fear to his stomach. That a child could do it to him made the fear flip over to anger, a much more familiar and comfortable emotion.

The boy’s hand went up again. “What is it?” Nesbit snapped, hoping to intimidate the child into silence. “What will the new world be like, sir?”

Another stab of fear. Had this boy’s father prepped him to ask these questions? Perhaps as a way to undermine him?

“It will be very like the Habitat Modules. I am sure you have all seen video of them.”

This started many of the children whispering to their desk-mates. Nesbit felt himself losing control of the situation. He slammed the flat of his hand on the desk beside him. The crack made all the children jump.

“Silence!” he barked. The talking was cut off like a switch had been thrown. “If this is the level of maturity you have reached, then perhaps I will recommend to the Captain that your transition to apprentices be delayed a cycle.”

It was not really an option, but this class was too young to know that. The threat had its intended affect. Several of the children, including Sandoval glared at the young trouble maker. Hopefully their peer pressure would bring the boy to the right frame of mind. If not, well, Nesbit knew how to deal with that kind. He knew it very well.

The boy in the back stood up. He looked like he was on the edge of crying. He waited to speak until Nesbit nodded his permission.

“Sir, I am sorry, sir. I did not mean to get everyone in trouble. Please, sir, we’ll all behave, just don’t hold us back.”

A chilly smile slipped onto Nesbit’s lips. Perhaps the boy wasn’t hopeless. But he had earned himself Nesbit’s attention for the next few years, regardless.

“I accept your apology, Mr.?”

“Douglas, sir. Tommy Douglas,” the boy spit out.

“Mr. Douglas, it does you credit to take responsibility for your mistake. But it is far, far better to not make mistakes like this. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Douglas said, his face turning red.

“Very well, then this will be the end of it. Sit down, boy.” Nesbit told him, his tone still ice cold. This boy was almost sure to be a problem, but by giving Nesbit a chance to exercise his authority, he had pushed the fear away. There was nothing like commanding respect to put the fears of change and a planet back into the box. Where they should have stayed in the first place.

“Now, let’s return to the roles you will play,” Nesbit told the class.