[51--D. & A.O.-Fr]

A number of my colleagues were gone that evening.  Whether they went home, to Camp Winsome, or someplace else I don't know.

The next morning, Master Baldwin came personally to my door and got me up.

"What is it," I asked him, still groggy from lack of sleep.

"D&AO," he replied, but didn't elaborate.  I followed him.

"This," he said pointing out a nicely appointed suite of offices near the center of the building, "is Repple Depple.  They are the dispatch desk, responsible for all training and field assignments. 

"They're the guys who promise you a tour in Bangkok, and then send you to the bottom of the ocean for a lark."

"So why are you here, escorting a lone Temporary Third Class?"

"I handle all Special Assignments personally."

"Special Assignments?"  I wasn't sure if I liked the sound of that.

"Yes."

I started to ask him to elucidate, but he pointed to the receptionist.

"Don't stand here all day jacking your jaws at me.  Ask him."

He was a middle-aged man in mufti, not at all happy looking.

"I am here for a Special Assignment," I told him.

"Name and Rank?"

"Temporary Translator Third Class Dani Heywood."

"Danielle?"

"Yeah."

He looked through the list and didn't find me.

"You're not here, Danielle.  Maybe you don't have a special assignment after all.  Are you sure?"

"Yes.  Master Baldwin told me 'D&AO', whatever that means."

"Ah," he said and looked went over to the teletype.  "Here you are."

He ripped a sheet from the machine and brought it over.

He handed me a copy.

FROM: COMMANDING OFFICER, I.S.A. SPACE STATION OPHIUCHUS

TO: INTERNATIONAL SPACE AGENCY PERSONNEL AND ALL SUPPORTING AGENCIES

FORWARD

TO: HEADQUARTERS, U.S. PEACE CORPS, OFFUTT ASP NEBRASKA

FORWARD

TO: T3C DANIELLE LYNN HEYWOOD

ID NUMBER 77-0011301

DOB: 15 MAY 60

DO NOT FORWARD

BEGIN MESSAGE:

TEMPORARY MULTILINGUAL DEBRIEFING ASSISTANCE IS REQUESTED IN GERMAN FRENCH AND ITALIAN LANGUAGES

CANDIDATES FOR THIS ASSIGNMENT MUST BE FLUENT IN AT LEAST TWO OF THESE LANGUAGES BUT PREFERRENCE WILL BE GIVEN TO CANDIDATES FLUENT IN ALL THREE

MILITARY OR POLICE BACKGROUND IS PREFERRED BUT NOT REQUIRED

SECURITY CLEARANCE PREFERRED BUT NOT REQUIRED

PLEASE ROUTE INQUIRIES TO (A30) 360-50A2

ALL PARTICIPATION IS VOLUNTARY

END MESSAGE

"Well," he asked after I read it.

"Well what?"

"Are you going to accept?  I need to log it."

"Translating, sure?"  With radio, I could do that from anywhere in the world.

He handed me a pen.

"Please sign."

I signed and he went over to his terminal and typed in the data.

The teletype started banging away.  We went back over to it and pulled off four copies of my new orders.

"Here you go," he said without much to-do, and handed them over.  "Have a nice trip."

"Trip," I asked Master Baldwin after we'd left the dispatch desk

"Yes.  I don't know what guardian angel you have on your shoulder, Heywood, but he's looking out for you.  This is a sweet assignment."

"Yeah," I told him, thinking it would be nice to stay indoors while my other cohorts sweated, digging latrines.

"The Peace Corps rarely goes to space."

"Space," I asked warily, with more than a little concerned.  "What do you mean space?"

"I mean space.  You don't think they're gonna land Ophiuchus, do you?  It'd burn up half the state."

"Wait, they didn't say anything about going up there!  I thought I'd be translating by radio or something."

"No, they want you there, so there's no mistake.  You should jump at it, Heywood.  Offers like this don't come twice in a career."

What the hell?

"What does D&AO mean anyway?"

"Detach, and Await Orders.  That paper there removes you from Peace Corps  jurisdiction and places you under the space force until they're done with you."

What did I just do?

"You mean, I've only been in the Corps for a day, and already I'm out of it again?"

"In a word, yes."

"But what if I don't want to?"

"Then you shouldn't have signed."

"You mean I'm stuck with it?  I thought this is voluntary."

"No, you could go back and have the old geezer rescind it, but I wouldn't do that.  There aren't a lot of Third Classes who've been to space.  It'll look mighty good when you're up for review for Second Class."

"Oh," I told him.  "In that case, I won't do that."

But I was still a little worried. 

Space!

***

I had to go seem more doctors, this time the Flight Surgeon, and they ran a number of tests to ensure I could handle the trip.  I have no idea what they were looking for.

Then I sat for an hour lecture on space flight safety, which was painfully similar to those five-minute pre-flight demonstrations that airline stewards do, only it never seems to end.

After all the talk on the dangers of radiation and decompression and hyperthermia, I expected them to cart me off and bundle me up in a spacesuit, but they just stamped my paperwork and sent me straight out to the launch pad.

Or at least what I thought of as the launch pad.  Once I left the Hexagon I was in a world anew.

It was mind-bogglingly enormous, a concrete diamond-shaped tarmac a mile per side with a chevron shaped building at one end and a cluster of dome buildings or tents at the other end.  I really couldn't tell which.

There were rockets standing upright on their fins, idly reaching for the sky.  Some were sleek black machines, with neo-gothic lines and pointy noses.  Others were more robust, looking more top-heavy like post-modern water towers.  A few of the most dart-like had single engines but most had three, or even six.

The smaller ones were placed in a ring around the cluster of domes, but the bigger ones—and the bulk of the maintenance vehicles, ground-equipment and workers to service them—were nested in the crux of the vee.

There was a fence all the way around it.   My driver took me to one of the cage-like gates.

The guard outside was young, but looked very bored.  He was the charcoal grey of the Space Force and was armed with a very menacing weapon.

He took my newly minted ID and paperwork.

"Step out of the vehicle, Miss Heywood."

I did so.  

"Wait, this says 'O' under sex."

I hadn't noticed that.  'O' for other?  If so, hurray for the Peace Corps.

"What does that mean, ma'am?"

"What does 'O' mean?  I don't know, obvious?  Officious?  Maybe Obstinate?"

"Why doesn't your ID match your appearance, ma'am?"

"What should it say?"

"It should indicate your sex, ma'am.  Now please step into the cage."

Uh-oh.  I think I pushed him too far.

The door on the cage slid open, and I could see there was another guard inside the little shack. 

"Your name, ma'am," he asked as I stepped up to the window.

"Danielle Lynn Heywood."

I handed him the ID.

He took it and started looking on a roster.

"Don't bother Kerry," the first one said, stepping up beside me.  He still had my paperwork and orders.  "She ain't on the list.  D&AO orders, but her ID don't match."

"Don't match what?  If there's no list, how do you know?"

"It says 'O'."

"What says?"

"Her ID.  We need to call up to the Hexagon and find out what gives.  I never heard of them sending a PC to space anyway, have you?"

"No, but I've seen stranger things.  Lemme see them orders."

Tweedle-Dim handed them over.

"The orders is fine.  What business you got in space, hon?"

"I'm a translator," I told him and pointed to my new silver badge.

"What language you speak," Dim asked, leaning up against the shack.  He was trying to make time with me.

"English, Esperanto" I counted on my fingers, to emphasize how many, "Spanish, Latin..."

He was already regretting asking.

"French, Italian, German,"

"That's enough, Miss."

"But I'm not done.  I also speak Old English, some Gaelic, a touch of Old French, Old High German..."

I'd run out of fingers.

"I said you're done.  Now grab some sky."  He motioned to the hurricane fence with his gun.

Nobody had ever threatened me before, at least not with a firearm.  I was mortified, but more to the point, frightened.

Kerry was still on the phone, and I doubted I could get his attention.  Did they really think I was a terrorist or something?

"The fence," Dim said, still twitching the muzzle of his gun at me.

"Take it easy," I warned him.  "You could shoot somebody."

The look in his eye told me that would clearly make his day.

There was a sign above the window I'd missed before.  It said "Use of Deadly Force is Authorized."

They weren't kidding.

"Ma'am," he said, with a hint of stress in his voice.  "I asked you step back.  Now, step over to the fence and climb it."

I did so, not sure what the point was.

"Now stay there," he said, once my feet were both off the ground.

I suppose it does put one in a compromising position.

"Carl," Kerry said from the shack, "get her down from there.  I just had a Colonel chew my ass out.  He said if I couldn't read, maybe I be a bus boy."

"Heh," Carl said, "what else?"

"A bunch of stuff I didn't understand.  You can come down, Miss.  You're cleared."

I jumped down off the fence and went back to the window.

"Can I have my paperwork and ID back?"

He gave them, apologizing as he did so.  As I was exiting the other side of the cage, I heard him ask Carl "what does officious mean?"