Psychotic Academy

Graduation Day. It was the favourite phrase of every fourth-year cadet at the Academy since time immemorial, or, more accurately, since the Academy opened. But the overall joy of Graduation Day was rather spoiled when you had to organise it yourself. It was the twenty-third century equivalent of having to make your own cat o’nine tails, Hill thought.

Along with a group of cadets from his year, he’d been ordered to put together the programme for the day. His particular responsibility was the organising of the guests who would be turning up later in the day to watch this year’s mob collect their scrolls. It was possibly the most boring job of the day, basically entailing setting out chairs and putting little notices on them designating whose backside was to be parked there.

Luckily for him, he had help. Hill sat back in his chair and watched as junior cadets Wall and Damerell laid out row after row of chairs in a precise order. This was his revenge for a year’s worth of knocks on his door at all hours of the day and night, asking stupid questions. A particularly annoying regular occurrence had been Wall’s habit of turning up at the end of his weekend leave, plastered out of his tiny twisted mind, occasionally clutching some arcane item (Hill winced as he remembered the trouble they had had to go to smuggling one of Tutankhamun’s masks back into the local museum after Wall ‘borrowed’ it at the tail end of a particularly good 48-hour leave), and announcing, “Shcuse me, shir, but could you poshibly point me in the direction of the cadet bunker?” before folding up on the floor. Wall and Damerell had been working for the past three hours, setting out literally thousands of chairs, while Hill sat back and directed operations.

 

Upstairs, in the lighting control chamber, Graham cracked his knuckles as he levered the top off a recalcitrant control panel and set to work persuading it to function once more. He was in charge of organising the lighting for the great day, and was having difficulties persuading the lighting system to do what he wanted to do. He had something special planned to acknowledge his greatness and foil that nasty Richard once and for all. It would have dismayed him to know that he was using the same source of man-power as the aforementioned nasty Richard; in the main chamber, a group of cadets were busy laying out equipment according to the bizarre directions they had been given. Eyes alive with the thought of the glorious scene that would enfold that afternoon, Graham continued his work.

 

Hill stood up hurriedly as another group of cadets came into the room, manoeuvring a large section of podium towards the front. Quickly gathering up a padd, he hurriedly tapped in a set of nonsense instructions to make himself look busy. When one of them approached him, he looked up from his padd with a frown on his face, as if he had been interrupted in the middle of something important. “Yes?”

“Do you know who’s dealing with the entertainment?”

“What entertainment?”

“I don’t know, but there’s a group of musicians outside who claim they’ve been booked for this afternoon.”

“Alright, I’ll go and find out what they want.” Hill left the auditorium, to find a bunch of people clutching violin cases and looking around them. “‘Scuse me, are you musicians?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s right,” one of them said. “Uh, do you know where you’re supposed to be?”

“Yeah, we’ve been told we’re at the back.”

“The back? Okay.” Hill ushered them inside, grumbling at whichever bureaucratic fool had forgotten to tell him that they had booked musicians.

The musicians found themselves a spot at the back, and started fiddling with their cases, although they didn’t actually open them. One of them approached Hill, and drawled, “Say, this is a mighty fine setup you have here.”

“Thank you,” Hill said, and was about to turn away back to his work when the man continued, “I sure would like to see it from the roof.”

“Uh, well, I’m awfully busy I’m afraid.”

“But I would love to see it…”

“Sorry.”

The musician’s free hand grabbed Hill’s upper arm, and began to drain it of blood. “Look, kid, I want to see it now and you’re going to show it to me. Understand?”

Hill decided that he could afford to take a few minutes off. He led the musician up past the lighting gallery, up a myriad of ladders and tiny passageways, until they reached one of the minute cubbyholes usually occupied by tech crews to ensure that all systems actually worked on important occasions. Hill fidgeted uncomfortably as the musician looked around approvingly, then concentrated his stare on the platform. “So, is that where you’ll end up later on today?”

“That’s right.”

“Seems awfully exposed… Thanks, Cadet, you’ve done me a real favour.”

Hill then led the way back down again. Once he had returned his charge to his friends, Hill went back to his proper job, namely, bullying Wall and Damerell into doing the work for him.

 

Hill’s day stretched on and on until he saw Graham appear from the gallery, clutching a tricorder and scanning the cabling. He was frowning and talking quite animatedly to his tricorder. Instinctively, Hill dived behind a pillar. As Graham ambled closer, Hill began to hear what he was saying.

“… I don’t understand why they got upset with me over that lateral thruster duct. So it was burnt out! It’s not really that important!”

Hill’s eyes began to cross. Then, Graham stopped to analyse a junction box.

“Hmm, that’s not got the tolerance it needs to take the sort of current I’m going to be putting through it. We’ll have to do something about that.” Graham disconnected the box and walked off.

Hill, smelling a large and extremely malodorous rodent, followed.

Graham went out of the chamber, and into a small workshop, where he opened up the junction box and pulled a ludicrously huge amount of cabling out of it. Hill stood by the door, peeping in. As he couldn’t see what Graham was doing, it was convenient that the other cadet carried on talking to himself.

“… Now let’s see, we’ll have to beef that up, and cross-connect those two…”

At that moment, Hill decided to reveal himself. He stepped out into the doorway and said, “Hi, Chris!”

Graham’s arms suddenly went to warp nine as he threw the bits of junction box everywhere.

“What’s up?” Hill continued, wandering in nonchalantly and picking up a random bit of circuitry from where it had landed. He turned it around in his fingers, looking interestedly at it, until Graham grabbed it back off him and pocketed it with a murderous expression. “Now, now, no need to get violent,” Hill said, moving back a step, just in case.

“What do you want?” Graham asked.

“I was just wondering what you were up to. I’ve finished my jobs for now, and I was just wondering what you were doing, and if you needed a hand.”

“No, that will be fine, thank you.”

“So what are you up to?” Hill asked.

“Nothing that need concern you,” came Graham’s curt reply.

“Aw, c’mon Chris, you can tell me!” Hill adopted his most wheedling tone.

Graham pulled a phaser. “Leave now or I will have to hurt you.”

Hill considered annoyance, but decided instead on getting the hell out of it.

 

When he stopped running, he found himself in front of the main administration buildings. Hill realised that this was not a good place to be. The admin buildings were the home of the seemingly endless number of senior officers who made up the Academy’s teaching complement. Any cadet who got within fifty metres of the place was usually put on errand-running duty. Hill spun round on one foot and was about to accelerate away when a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Ah, Cadet!” the booming voice of Captain Carter, well, boomed. “Jolly good of you to appear here! Jobs all done, eh?” Carter was master of ceremonies for the afternoon’s graduation parade.

“Erm, yes sir.”

“Excellent! Could you just pop in here? I’ve got a little job for you.”

Groaning to himself, Hill reluctantly followed Carter into the admin building. “Right, Cadet,” Carter said, “I want you to nip up to Spacedock and find Admiral Kirk. He seems to be a little late for his pre-ceremony briefing.”

Hill couldn’t really blame the famous Admiral, but nodded. “I’ll get on it right away, sir.”

Twenty minutes later found Hill stepping off the transporter pad aboard Spacedock. It was then he realised he had no idea where to find Kirk. Starting with the obvious, Hill set off towards the dock itself, deciding to start with the Enterprise. He wandered along to the boarding tube, where he found a couple of burly security types blocking the access port. Standing in front of one, he craned his neck back and, squinting at the dim shape that was the man’s head, said, “Erm, I was wondering if I could have a word with Admiral Kirk?”

“Yeah, you and everyone else. Get lost, kid.”

“No, I have orders from Captain Carter at the Academy. I’m to bring Admiral Kirk to Earth for this afternoon’s graduation ceremony.”

The security guard leaned forwards, bringing his face to Hill’s level. Hill leaned back to avoid the man’s breath, which appeared to be set to kill.

“Look kid, let me explain something to you. A Captain Carter does not order an Admiral Kirk. It works the other way around, okay. Now get lost.”

Hill was about to open his mouth and protest further when a different voice said, “Do ye have a problem, laddie?” Ambling up the corridor was Commander Scott, the Enterprise’s chief engineer.

The security guard said stiffly, “This kid wants to see the Admiral. Something about a graduation ceremony.”

“Well, that’s nae problem. Let him aboard on my authority.” Scott grinned at Hill, and followed the cadet aboard. The security guard growled at Hill as he passed, and Hill flinched, but converted the flinch into a need to scratch his armpit. He didn’t think anyone would notice.

Once aboard Enterprise, Hill dredged up the memories of their memory test where they had had to memorise all the fixtures and fittings on the officer’s quarters level of this class of starship, and set off towards the Captain’s Quarters. After his fifth attempt to find the cabin, he remembered that he had in fact failed that particular test. So he resorted to Plan B, namely, grabbing a passing yeoman and asking where the Captain’s cabin was. “Back that way,” the yeoman said, “but I don’t think you’ll find the Admiral in.”

“Oh, has he left for the graduation already?”

“Erm, not exactly.” The yeoman then blushed and hurried off. Hill watched her go, not understanding. He followed her directions until he found the door marked, ‘Admiral Kirk. Knock before entering. No hawkers, circulars or tradesmen.’ Hill knocked. And waited. And waited. Eventually, he realised that the yeoman had been right. Admiral Kirk was not at home. Feeling slightly guilty, but getting a little desperate, Hill tried the door. It slid open.

Inside, the cabin looked as if a torpedo had detonated in it. Clothing was scattered all over the place, a smell of cheap aftershave filled the air, and the screen displayed a message: ‘Jim. Come and get me. Now. Natalia.’ Hill looked blankly at the message. He was sure that there was a clue in there somewhere, but he wasn’t quite certain what it was. A sudden stroke of inspiration led him to ask the computer, “Where is Admiral Kirk?”

“Admiral Kirk is not on board the Enterprise,” came the emotionless response.

“Blast. Computer, is there a crewmember aboard the Enterprise whose first name is Natalia?”

“Negative.”

“Okay.”

That left him with, well, too many options to count. Hill glanced at his chronometer. He had half-an-hour before he had to be back on Earth. He had to hurry.

 

Back on Spacedock, Hill made his way to the nearest information terminal and asked the same question again. “Is there a crewmember aboard Spacedock whose first name is Natalia?”

“Affirmative. Commander Natalia Ivanishkova is Flight Operations Officer aboard Spacedock.”

“Yes! Where is she currently?”

“Commander Ivanishkova is in her quarters.”

“And where are her quarters?”

“Deck 45, Section 41-A.”

Hill set off for Deck 45.

 

On Earth, Graham finished making his adjustments and replaced the junction box, all the while whistling merrily. He hadn’t seen that Richard for some time, which had to be a good thing. While carrying out yet another sweep of the cabling, and making sure his adjustments were in place and well hidden, so that no-one could remove them and spoil the surprise, he found himself approached by one of the musicians.

“Hey, cadet!”

“Yes?” Graham remembered his politeness training. You weren’t allowed to be rude to people unless you had a ‘good reason’.

“Isn’t there supposed to be some big-shot admiral at this ceremony?”

“I suppose so.” In truth, Graham didn’t care.

“Well, isn’t he supposed to be here by now?”

Graham failed to notice the edge in the man’s voice. “Probably. These things usually work out for the best, I find.”

“Yeah, right.”

 

Hill arrived outside Commander Ivanishkova’s quarters, and raised his hand to ring the bell, when he heard something from inside the room. He pressed his ear up against the door, and listened. He heard a high-pitched giggle, then a deeper laugh, then another giggle, then some dubious noises, before a woman’s voice said, “Oh, Jim…”

Hill backed away from the door, blushing furiously. This put an entirely new complexion on things. Like everyone else in Starfleet, Hill knew the stories about Admiral Kirk. He’d put most of them down to myth, but apparently, in this case, the myths were true.

While Hill was trying to decide whether or not to ring the bell, a large Commander from Security appeared. “Can I help you. Cadet?”

“Erm, well, you see…”

“Are you after Nat… Commander Ivanishkova?”

At this point, Hill noticed that the new arrival had a decidedly Russian accent. An ugly suspicion grew in his mind. Deciding to risk his hunch, Hill said, louder than normal, “Oh, is that your WIFE?”

“Yes, that’s right.” From behind the door, the unmistakable voice of James T. Kirk swore viciously. “Now, Cadet, do you want to see her?”

“Um, well, actually, I was looking for you.” He could hear the sounds of clothes being tugged on inside the cabin. Hill blundered on. “I understand you’re organising the security for this afternoon’s graduation ceremony.”

“No, I’ve got nothing to do with the ceremony, I’m afraid.” The male Commander Ivanishkova was friendly enough, but frowning. “Who told you that I was in charge?”

“Oh, must just have been a faulty reading on my orders,” Hill bluffed. “Well, I’m very happy I’ve got that sorted out.” He had been slowly moving towards the Commander, forcing him to move away from the door. Now, he had to get him to turn away from the door. He’d never been that good at improvising stuff, though. In desperation, Hill said, “I’m so happy, I could sing!” Just as his mind said, Sing? Are you crazy?, his mouth opened and sang, “I thought love was only true in fairy tales…”

As he sang, he pirouetted past the Commander and down the corridor. Ivanishkova watched him, turning as he did so. Behind him, the door opened, and Admiral Kirk emerged into the corridor, adjusting his belt. He quickly ducked into an alcove, out of sight. Hill abruptly stopped singing, and said, “Well, I’ll be on my way, then.” Ivanishkova, who looked dumbstruck by the whole affair, nodded soundlessly.

Hill hurried round the corner, and waited. A few seconds later, just after Ivanishkova had gone into his cabin, Kirk appeared.

“Thanks, Cadet,” he said breathlessly. Then, straightening up, he assumed the bearing that the Starfleet publicity holos typically showed, and said, “I assume you were looking for me?”

“Yes sir. I was assigned to bring you to Earth for the Academy graduation day ceremony.”

“Damn! I’d forgotten. Well, lead on, Cadet. I assume you’re graduating today?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well done.”

“Thank you, sir. And, sir?”

“Yes?”

“Your fly is undone.”

 

By the time Hill and Kirk had reached Earth, the ceremony was almost ready to begin. While Kirk was hurriedly briefed on his part, Hill joined his classmates at the back of the hall. In front of them were all the invited guests, and in front of the guests was the stage. Behind them the band were tuning up. No-one was quite sure how the band had turned up, because no-one could remember booking them, but one of the first things Starfleet officers are taught is never to look gift horses in the mouth, so no-one complained.

The guests took their seats, the cadets stood at attention, and the band began to play a triumphal march as the platform party, consisting of Admiral Forster, Commodore Dillard, their aides, and Admiral Kirk, walked down the aisle and took their seats on the stage. Hill was impressed by Kirk’s transformation. An outsider would never know that this was a man who had almost been caught in flagrante less than an hour before.

The cadets took their seats, and Admiral Forster stood to make his speech. “Oh, crumbs! Another year, another class. It never fails to amaze me that every year we turn out so many fine officers. Before me, and, well, behind you, ladies and gentlemen, we have the finest young people in the Federation. They’re dedicated, disciplined and determined. Those qualities will soon be put to the test as they take their places in the fleet. D’you see the logic in that? I remember…”

As Forster continued with his long and rambling speech, Hill looked around him. He found his eyes drawn to where Graham was sitting, not too far away. Graham was grinning. Actually grinning. Hill narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong here.

Once Forster’s speech was finished, Commodore Dillard gave a (mercifully) brief speech, before introducing Admiral Kirk. Kirk stood, and said, “It is a great honour to be here today, to see another class of cadets graduate from the Academy. From what I’ve heard, and from a recent experience, I know that this class is another shining example of all that Starfleet stands for…”

Hill chuckled.

“… However, although I don’t want to be a killjoy, I have to point out that life is going to get very much harder from now on. From now on, you’ll be plunged into situations you can’t even dream about, on an almost daily basis. You’ll face challenges to your skills, your morals and your ideals. But, I suspect you’ll face those challenges head-on, with the same enthusiasm and dedication that every other Starfleet officer shows…”

 

The musician who had talked to Hill earlier in the day reached down and picked up an unopened violin case. Quietly, he made his way out of the hall, and began to climb the ladder towards the observation gallery Hill had shown him earlier. When he reached the gallery, he opened the case, and pulled out a dark black object that did not by any stretch of the imagination resemble a violin. He then attached a barrel, a stock and a sight to it, and raised the assembled phaser rifle to his shoulder, zeroing his sights in on Admiral Kirk. Then, he set the rifle down, and waited. He needed a distraction before he took his shot, something to cover his actions so he could get away.

 

Kirk’s speech finished, and Dillard said, “Might I now ask Admiral Kirk to present the graduation scrolls to this year’s class?”

“You may,” Kirk joked, then looked upset when nobody laughed.

The cadets stood, and began to file slowly towards the stage. Hill saw Graham fiddling with something in his hand, and began to wonder what on Earth the other cadet was planning. He knew Graham had altered the system somehow, but couldn’t figure out what. As they moved slowly towards the platform, Hill followed the cabling running along the side of the aisle with his eye, looking back towards the rear of the hall, past where he had been sitting, past the musicians…

The musicians. One of them was missing. It was the one that Hill had talked to earlier. The one Hill had shown the observation platform earlier.

“Seems awfully exposed…”

Hill looked up to the platform, and squinted. Sure enough, there was someone up there. Realisation hit him. He’d given directions to an assassin. Hill dived out of the queue and dashed back up the aisle.

 

Graham watched as the cadets in front of him collected their scrolls, and marched smartly off the platform and out onto the parade ground outside. In just a few more seconds, everyone would know the true greatness of Graham.

 

Hill threw himself at the ladder and clambered towards the observation platform. He had to make it up there before the assassin pulled the trigger. Reaching the first level, he hurried along past the lighting gallery, and began to climb the next ladder. Halfway up, his hand touched an exposed wire. The mild shock he received did him no harm, but he shouted, “Ouch!” before he could stop himself.

The assassin heard the cry, and realised someone was on their way up. He hoisted the last ladder up onto the platform, cutting off access from below. Then, he turned his attention back to the stage. A sixth sense was telling him to wait for a diversion to present itself.

Hill reached the final ladder, and realised just before he began to climb that it wasn’t in fact there. The platform was out of his reach. He dashed off down the corridor, and found the access to the lighting grid. Steeling himself, he climbed out onto the grid. Below him was a colossal drop and the audience. Slipping was not an acceptable option. He crawled out along the grid, looking for some way to work his way across to the observation platform. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any way across. There was a gap in the grid that was too big to reach across. Hill looked around rapidly, desperate for inspiration. An idea struck him. It was insane, but insanity was all he had to work with. He crawled as fast as he could towards the set of big lights that were illuminating the stage.

 

Graham watched as the last cadet in front of him advanced across the stage and collected her scroll. Then, as Commodore Dillard’s voice announced, “Cadet Christopher Graham!”, he pressed a button on the control device he was holding. Nothing happened. Graham thumped it again, and the lights began to dim. Smoke gushed from hidden positions, and martial music blared out from the speakers. The only lights left on were a large spotlight illuminating Admiral Kirk and one set up to track Graham’s progress across the stage. Graham, grinning maniacally, strode forwards.

 

Hill watched as Graham’s pyrotechnics display kicked in, and cursed. Then, he returned to the business of disconnecting a power conduit from one of the now extinguished lights.

 

The assassin smiled in the darkness. He’d been right to wait. The spotlight illuminated Kirk perfectly. He lifted his rifle, and quickly checked it over, then levelled it at Kirk.

 

Hill wound the length of cable round his wrists, and looked across at the observation platform. He had seconds to act. Taking a deep breath, Hill jumped.

“Ooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhsssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttt!!!!!!!!!”

The audience, already taken aback by Graham’s entrance, flinched as the cry from overhead reached their ears. Everyone, Kirk included, looked up to see what was going on. Graham’s good mood abruptly evaporated as he realise that that Richard had upstaged him.

 

The assassin heard the cry, and lifted his head away from the sight for a second to find out what the racket was about. All he saw was a dark shape swinging rapidly towards him. His eyes widened, and he tried to duck, but he was just too late. Hill impacted with him boots-first, and the assassin was thrown off the platform and fell down to the level below. Hill swung away, and realised his predicament. In the rush, he’d only thought his plan out as far as stage A: taking out the assassin. Now, he realised what stage B was likely to be. He looked over his shoulder, and saw the rear wall of the hall approaching rapidly. He began to whimper.

Those below watched as the cadet swung back, and winced as he made his bone-jarring connection with the wall. Then, the cable began to unravel, and he descended slowly towards ground level.

Kirk was the first to recover, and, straightening his tunic, said, “Congratulations, Cadet Graham. Good luck.” Graham snatched the scroll from Kirk, and stomped off the stage.

They picked Hill up, and returned him to his place in the line, where he was just about capable of standing unassisted. Then, the graduation ceremony continued. When it came to Hill’s turn, he hobbled across the stage and collected his scroll as ordered. Kirk held him back for a second, and said, “I guess that’s two I owe you now.”

“Uh, right. Whatever.” Hill staggered on, out of the door, and into his place on the parade ground.

Once the last cadets had collected their scrolls, the audience and the VIP’s moved outside. Forster called the cadets to attention, then he and Dillard presented them with their ensign’s rank pin. Graham grabbed his and shoved it in his pocket, scowling all the while. Hill took his, saluted, then fell over. “Oh, gee! Somebody get a doctor!” Forster and Dillard scooped him up, and handed him over to the medics who had hurried out to collect him.

 

Later that day, when Ensign Hill had regained consciousness, he had a succession of visitors. The first was Admiral Kirk.

“How you doing, kid?” Kirk asked.

“Erm, not too badly, thanks, sir. The doctors reckon I’ll be out of here in a few days.”

“Good. Listen, do you know where you’re going to be posted yet?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Good. I figure I owe you a favour, Ensign.”

Despite his groggy state, Hill heard the tone of Kirk’s voice, and the excited thought entered his head: He’s going to post me to Enterprise! He sat up in his bed.

“How do you fancy science duty aboard a starship?”

“Very much, sir!”

“Excellent! Well, there’s an opening aboard Endeavour, and I know her captain, so I’ll put a word in for you. How’s that?”

Hill was crushed. “Yeah, great, sir.”

“Glad that’s sorted. Well, good luck in your career, Ensign.”

A little later, Commodore Dillard came to see him. “Afternoon, Ensign. Do you want to know about that assassin you K.O.’d?”

“Yes, I suppose so, sir.”

“Turns out he was an Iotian gangster, sent by one of the lesser crime-lords on that planet to extract revenge on Kirk. Apparently, they weren’t happy about the cut they were getting under Kirk’s deal. Anyway, he confessed to everything, and he’ll be doing a few year’s rehabilitation on Tarsus before you know it. Well done, Ensign.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Finally, Graham came in.

Hill stiffened as Graham leant over, plumped his pillows for him, then yelled, “I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU RUINED MY GRADUATION FOR ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Chris, I didn’t do it deliberately!”

“YES YOU DID!!!!!! YOU MUST HAVE!!!!!!! YOU ALWAYS DO!!!!!!”

“Honestly, I didn’t set out to spoil things for you!”

“DON’T LIE!!!!! I KNOW YOU DID!!!! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!!!!!!”

“NURSE!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”