The axispods, each supported on a single stalk-like landing gear were fashioned in the zigzagging slash used to illustrate a lightning bolt. The small ships sat in rows facing the vast forcefield that protected the interior of the landing bay from outside space.
The lower segment of the axispod was for the pilot’s legs; the somewhat off-centre second section exhibited a narrow platform for the pilot to sit, slightly reclined. The upper compartment, still further uncentred, incorporated the command centre and accommodated the upper body of the pilot. Outwardly, the craft had the appearance of a precariously balanced, reclining stack of crates, but evidently, someone with a considerable grasp of inertia and mass had come up with a practical design. The other worrying feature; the craft appeared constructed from flimsy tissue paper and balsa wood; like a model aircraft kit. A second stack of crates, identical to the first was secured to the rear. The idea they would withstand space combat, or indeed the vacuum of space itself caused Laurel to turn to Harry in disbelief.
“It’s so flimsy,” she said, reaching out and touching that, which to her eyes, was nothing more than a fragile toy.
“It fits together like Lego,” Helen agreed, pressing her finger against the tissue surface, and pressing again when it didn’t give way.
Harry shook his head, he had no idea what Lego might be, a flying machine of some sort he presumed, but there would be time for that later. “The pods carry powerful armour, weapons and stealth,” he said, “so they need to be light. It’s a training craft, but we do use them in combat conditions. It’s very sturdy, I promise,” Harry smiled and invited Laurel to climb on board.
Sitting in the narrow forward crate, Laurel felt exposed and unsafe. She watched as the others loaded into individual ships, their instructors climbing into the rear assembly. Harry sat behind Laurel. A metallic arm folded out to Laurel’s left side, and several lights snapped into life over her head. She looked around for the non-existent seatbelt.
“Are these all the controls?” she shouted over her shoulder, not sure if Harry could hear her.
“I can hear you fine,” he answered, “no need to shout. Put your right hand down by your side. You’ll feel an arch.”
Laurel did as Harry directed. Sure enough, there was the arch, at a convenient height for her to reach.
“Push your hand through to the wrist; you’ll get a sensation of the engine engaging.”
The arch tilted against her palm and the cockpit before her filled with stars, the nebula was only displayed in white and grey lines; pinpoint lights trailed and resolved, characters and icons she didn’t recognise littered the entire area.
“What is that?”
“The arch is a cavariform transceiver,” Harry said, “answering to the spit ring. What you see before you is a map of this star system; you might recognise elements from our debriefing.”
“I do,” Laurel said, surprised. “But I don’t understand them.”
“That’s fine. It’s more important it understands you. The transceiver is programmed for local use only and narrow widespeed; you will learn to rely on it. Trust me, by the time we get back, it will make perfect sense.”
“Okay, how do we fly?”
“The ship will respond to your directions, so if you want to move forward, left, right; think it, and the ship will comply. Pull your wrist up to release the docking clamps.”
Laurel lifted her wrist, and a soft vibration filled the compartment.
“Did I just turn on the ignition?” she said over her shoulder.
“Wait a moment.”
The vibration ceased, and in startlingly rapid sequence, armorial panels covered the ship. The only outside view was provided by a second field that lifted and angled to face her. She could see outside as if she was watching with her own eyes. The other ships were similarly encased in sleek black armour.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see this, Harry,” Laurel said, relieved. “I thought we were heading into space in a model aeroplane.”
“I know what that is, my father told me,” she heard him laugh. “This is not a model of any flying craft. Despite its appearance, it’s a fighting vessel, with firepower and shield capabilities that easily matches that of our enemy. This armour usually generates stealth automatically; but this is an exercise, so the ship is visible, even so, you must learn how to lower stealth when the need arises. You’ll discover it’s straightforward to master.”
“Will I be fighting in space?”
“It’s possible, but you have to be prepared for every contingency.”
“You’re asking a lot of us, you know.”
“I realise that. Now, think forward, be precise with your commands.”
The axispod tilted, and the outside view on the panel shifted to where she could see only space and the glory of the nebula. A sudden clunk from below startled her. Focus, Laurel, she told herself, focus.
“The visual acuity of that panel is amazing, Harry.”
“The interface is responding well; when you lost concentration, it put us down. You’re at the threshold of the landing bay. Can you see the others?”
“Yes. When you use the term ‘stealth’, are we completely invisible to the enemy?”
“We believe, that for now, they can’t detect us,” Harry said, “but in the unlikely event of the enemy firing on you, you have to drop stealth to return fire. Even so, we remodulate our stealth rotations because the enemy could theoretically detect us as a paradox in space; up to now, we haven’t had to test that assumption. Their ships don’t use stealth, only their troops wear stealth armour.”
“Right. Do I just think about the weapons and they fire?”
“No, stop asking questions or we’ll be here when the others get back. Are you ready to take her out?”
“What if we run into the enemy?”
“We’re in a region of the League they’ve never entered. We’re safe here.”
“What if I drive straight into the side of this ship?”
“You can’t. One League ship can’t crash into another League ship, they have a proximity repel, but you can collide with civilian ships and other planetary bodies; that’s why we purposely brought you here, so you don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Just raise your hand again to re-engage the interface; it will open a launching sequence, you can lift off without it in an emergency, but until you become used to flying, we won’t overwhelm you with information.”
Laurel saw Xavier waiting at the landing bay door, Marta’s ship nearby. Then the ship pushed forward, and Harry settled a moment of panic, reassuring her he was at the ready. Laurel told herself it would be like taking a driving lesson in a dual control car.
“Does it reverse?” she asked.
“If you order it.”
“What if I’m thinking right, left, reverse? What happens?”
“You won’t be able to confound it, if that’s what you mean.”
A few minutes later, after spending a few minutes awestruck by the impressive, exterior view of the huge, lily pad-shaped consular ship, Laurel decided that flying in space could be likened to swimming underwater. Space is a vast ocean, encompassing, buoyant, pressing in on the left and right and above and below. All you have to figure out is where you want to go and try to determine which way is up. Right now, Laurel wasn’t sure about either of those things.
“Are we upright?” she asked, having to unclench her jaw to speak; she hadn’t previously noticed the tension throughout her body; tension brought about by her extreme concentration not to turn her gaze to the nebula.
“It doesn’t matter too much,” Harry’s voice came from over her shoulder. “Only in relation to objects and other ships, but yes, we are upright. Open your eyes and follow the starchart; it’ll answer those questions.”
Laurel hadn’t realised she’d closed her eyes, or how Harry knew she had. She thought left and right, even tried saying right and left in different contexts, but the little ship didn’t r
espond to tricks, reading more from her thoughts than her words. She stopped, reversed, spun around upside down and whooped as she went. The others were doing the same thing. Harry indulged her for a time, recalling his own training days, before getting her back to the task at hand.
“Get into the custom of reading the charts; they give coordinates and…”
“Tells us if we are standing on our heads?”
“That too, you might not see it yet, but they provide an extensive view of the space around the ship.”
Laurel realised she was concentrating solely on the centre of the star chart, but when she moved her eyes to expand her view, her head began to spin, and the metallic arm containing the weapons console, so close and reassuring to her at first, now felt confining and oppressive.
Harry apparently had a system of seeing what was going on in front. “The dizziness will pass,” he instructed, “look down, then up, and stop closing your eyes.”
Laurel did as he said, and it did make her feel better. “Was that space sickness?”
“Disorientation episode. The ship will sense it and compensate for momentary lapses, but in combat conditions, it can’t nurse you. Are you okay now?”
“Fine, thanks. It was only temporary.”
“Good. We’ll try a brief burst of widespeed as well, Laurel. You’ll use it often.”
“How does it differ from travelling at the speed of light?”
“Widespeed is simpler, I believe. Every ship has widespeed capabilities to some extent, depending upon its needs. Cargo ships, salvage vessels; none of them require so much velocity. League ships are the fastest. Widespeed emanates from the hull, employing infinitesimally small waves, flow fields which are continually present in space. These waves contain an energy particle, easy to exploit in space. Unfortunately, we can’t capture them to use planetside. Once the field generates, the waves respond and carry us at the required speed. That’s the shortened version.”
“That’s amazing. Would we have these in our universe?”
“Presumably. Soul Mongers must have travelled at widespeed in your space, but the Transcender is located outside your solar system.”
“If they only knew.”
“Maybe one day they will. Now, as you’ve learned, the ship can be manoeuvred by neurological response to thought, but same as weapons, widespeed needs a manual initialisation. See the circle on the star chart? Touch it to configure the hull.”
Laurel touched the circle; nothing happened. “Have I confused it?”
“No, you can’t feel the configuration. The circle is larger now, can you see?”
“Yes.”
“Use a voice command. I’ve preset the coordinates for training exercises, so you can only say, ‘short’. It will make the jump and return us here.”
Laurel said “short” and registered a blast of swirling mist, and they were back where they started, this time facing away from the consular ship. She’d barely blinked. The other five ships were lined up in a row.
“What are they doing?” Laurel said, bewildered.
“They’re going to fire on you,” Harry’s voice came back at her. “You have to defend yourself. Don’t worry; it’s a simulation.”
Each ship registered multiple hits to Laurel’s axispod.
“I suppose pieces of us are floating in space right now?” she said, accepting she wasn’t doing too well. But to Harry, it was just another opportunity for her to learn.
“You need to trust your instincts,” Laurel didn’t see the grin on his face. “As you see the spark on the panel, instruct your ship to evade, feel it, don’t just see it. It will advise you the type of missile, its yield and its trajectory, but it won’t stand by while you deliberate. I understand it’s possible for empaths to discern what is going to take place before it happens.”
“Like Chloe’s TV programs?”
“In this case, what your opponent has in mind.”
At first, Laurel watched intently for indications the other ship had fired, but in the second salvo, she managed to evade 50% of the missiles. Then she tuned into instinct and dodged 70%. Excitement and adrenaline seized her, and she laughed, imagining this was what it would be like inside a computer game, carefully dismissing a subconscious reminder that one day, it would be for real.
Laurel took her place in the line-up as Helen’s ship became the next target. They each took turns. Xavier, Laurel and Marta did well, but none of them scored as high as Eli and Chloe, both showing an impressive ability to avoid almost anything fired at them.
The entire exercise left them exhilarated and falling over each other in congratulations when they reunited back in the landing bay.
Helen could only manage, “Wow!” several times over, and Chloe and Marta couldn’t stop laughing.
“I loved it,” Marta laughed, breathless with excitement. “War games! I must have some latent aggression in me after all. Those little ships were so manoeuverable. Pacifism be damned!”
Chapter 14
“You were amazing, Chloe.” Marta and Laurel were full of praise for their young friend, and Chloe glowed with delight. She looked up to the three older women of the group, and their opinion meant a good deal.
“So were you! But did you see Eli?” Chloe turned to Laurel. “Laurel, you’re getting these ‘senses’ and ‘feelings’, but this was the first time I really, I mean really, ‘felt’ something. I don’t know; perhaps it’s just because we’re getting to know each other so well.”
Chloe went back to giggling and rehashing the fun with Marta and Helen. Eli was striding towards them; for the first time, a smile lit his face. Harry clapped him on the shoulder in congratulations at an outstanding first attempt at piloting. Xavier, less enamoured with the whole adventure, merely shook Eli’s hand, then went to join Laurel, who’d extricated herself from the happy gathering.
“Not as excited?” he said as they watched the others expounding their abilities as flyers.
“No,” she said, lost in thought.
“No?”
Laurel laughed. “I mean, yes! It was intense! I was watching Eli with that smile on his face; just a few days ago…” she shook her head, incredulous at the change in Eli, in all of them. She grinned at Xavier. “You must admit, he was good. Look, he’s even scored a hug from Helen.”
“Yes, he was,” Xavier agreed. “Where he goes from here on will be interesting.”
Laurel nodded. “It’s moving fast, Xavier. Eli and Chloe are so young; I hate the idea of them being caught up in a war.” She turned to him. “Perhaps we didn’t think it through.”
“We can’t go back to what we were, Laurel,” Xavier said, placing a gentle, fatherly hand on her shoulder. “Neither can they. This is their reality now, and I don’t believe we can interfere with the choice they made. Indeed, I doubt the League would listen to any objection we raised. Eli and Chloe are both considered adults.”
Xavier was right. Laurel could only choose for herself, and she’d made her choice. She only hoped it was the right one.
Many gym and pilot training sessions later, the six whole souls converged on the junior crew galley for supper. The galley offered a gathering place for lower-ranking officers and shipboard civilians alike, and that day, newly inducted as honorary crew members, access was granted to these crew facilities. Laurel hoped Harry would come with them; it had been his idea to integrate them into ship’s society and believed the informal atmosphere of the junior galley might be a good place to start. She knew the crew would be curious and she thought his presence might ease the way somewhat. But Harry couldn’t be with them this first time, so they were left to navigate this important event without him. Xavier was sure Harry’s absence was deliberate; just to see how they coped.
The junior crew compliment ran into hundreds, but on this occasion, the galley was relatively quiet. Individuals, in groups or singly, sat at tables or on the wide cushioned seats by the viewports. Some acknowledged the six newcomers with curious smiles and a r
aise of their hand in welcome, but none made any attempt to speak. They knew about the whole souls of course, and that there might be a language barrier if they attempted conversation.
As they made their way through the room, Laurel found being around, so many new people in one place affected her. The sensation wasn’t negative, these people were welcoming, but…she turned to Marta, who was gauging Laurel’s reaction.
“Could it be we’ve become used to each other’s company over the past couple of weeks?” Marta suggested with no prompting. “What’s your view, Xavier?”
“We may have taken the first step in recognising the difference between them and us.”
“I don’t like the sound of, ‘them and us’,” Helen said as they grouped around a table, sharing a sense of being outsiders.
“If we accept Harry’s explanation,” Laurel looked around, trying to ignore the tingling in her head. “These are half-souls, same as our instructors. We’re expected to see something that sets them apart. I don’t know. I feel like it’s us who are ‘different’.”
“Maybe that’s the comparison,” Marta was rubbing her forehead.
“What do you feel, Marta?”
“Same as you, Laurel. Something inside my head.”
“If these are half-souls and the invaders are half-souls,” Eli speculated, “and the invaders dress up like the natives, how will we tell them apart? To be honest,” he pointed at Laurel and Marta. “I’m not sure I can ‘feel’ what Marta and Laurel feel. I can ‘feel’ the mechanism of the food dispensers. I can ‘feel’ the harmonics and rotations in the lighting systems, ship-wide, and I can feel the weapons and controls on the axispods.” He glanced around and lowered his voice, “And I ‘feel’ we’re not the same as them, but I can’t ‘feel’ they’re not the same as us. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Marta,” Laurel leaned forward and matched Eli’s whisper. “The guy to your left, the one who’s especially interested in us. Is there something that sets him apart from the others?”
Marta glanced casually at the man, as did the others, and the man was caught out mid-stare. Marta looked back at Laurel. “You mean the glow, the luminosity below his left clavicle. I didn’t see it when I first came in, and he was staring at us then. It’s only now you mention it.”
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