Victoria stood in the front of the room, a long, pen-shaped apparatus held in her hand. When she pressed a button on its side, a fine laser emerged, penetrating the identical sphere projected above the teacher’s desk. As the laser entered the sphere, it struck the front-most pyramid. With that under her control, she moved it slowly away from the focus of the sphere, drifting it toward the orb’s outer edge. In response, the rear pyramid gave chase, keeping an equal distance behind.
She said loudly, working with the pyramids, “Most of you have difficulty grasping combat outside a two-dimensional plane. All combat exists on a single flat sheet. Two opponents maneuver and drift around one another in a tactical, artful dance, until one finds an opening and strikes. Even when you take into account the use of high ground, you’re still altering only the level of the two-dimensional plane to a twenty-, thirty-, or forty-five-degree angle to account for the elevation. Still, however, your combat exists only within that stifling plane.
“For those of you to whom that description applied, you’ll find the shift to three-dimensional combat difficult. You’ve mastered the art of preparing for an enemy in front of you, to the side, or behind, but taking into account an enemy simultaneously below and above you, too, you’ll be forced to expand your thinking.”
Victoria returned to the sphere. Keryn watched her own display, seeing the pyramids move without the distraction of Victoria and her laser moving objects like a marionette.
“Some of the skills you’ve learned in ground training, such as leading a target when firing at a moving object, still apply to space combat. However, even those are modified. Distances in space are distorting to the eye. On a planet, the atmosphere masks great distances. The same can be said for the shape of the planet itself. Objects disappear into a distant horizon when they get far enough away. Therefore, your mind can interpret distance easier due to the planet’s slope.
“In space, however, there’s no horizon to use as a marker, and the size of the ships themselves is misleading. The smallest Duun fighter is still massive compared to normal targets on the ground. Spotting a distant ship during a space battle might mean that it’s literally thousands of feet away, far beyond effective engagement distance. Until you learn the fact that, in space, there are no reference points for distance, you’ll struggle with this crucial part of the learning process. In this classroom, I’ll teach you the basics, but your experience in the cockpit will truly teach you to be a pilot.”
Victoria turned back to the sphere, finally making reference to the pyramids she’d been moving in a dizzying dance. “Most of three-dimensional combat is an incorporation of both mathematical concepts and basic physics. The most basic of these concepts is the simple triangle. Take, for example, the banking ship.”
Using her laser, she turned the front pyramid into a steep climb. Behind it, a fine blue line appeared in the sphere, tracing the path it took on its upward flight. As the front ship pulled away from its pursuer, Victoria paused the demonstration.
“What you’re seeing is the first establishment of a triangle.”
On the screen, the ship’s gradual climb elongated until the single sloping blue line became two lines intersecting at a ninety-degree angle. “Though this wasn’t the exact course the lead pilot took, we can see that the front ship has established two legs of the triangle during its evasion of its pursuer. However, it leaves itself open for attack. How?”
Sasha raised her hand confidently from the back of the room. “Because everyone knows that the hypotenuse of a right triangle is a shorter distance than the sum of the other two legs. Therefore, the pursuing pilot simply has to increase the elevation of his own climb to cut off his fleeing adversary.”
In response to her words, a thin red line was drawn from the two exposed ends of the legs, completing the triangle. Victoria continued the lecture with a faint nod to the proud Avalon student. “The gravitational inhibitors on every Alliance ship mean that you can pull off maneuvers like the one I just demonstrated without fear of crushing gravitational forces during an intense climb. Cast aside your preconceived notions about combat. In space, within an Alliance ship, nearly anything you can imagine is possible.”
Keryn sat entranced, as Victoria lectured for hours on different techniques for assault and evasion during space combat. Pyramids danced throughout the sphere in wild firefights that she struggled to follow. Slowly, Victoria added more and more pyramids to the demonstration, until nearly the whole sphere was filled with a combination of mock ships and weapon fire.
By the end of the instruction, Keryn’s eyes watered from strain, and her head ached. She tried to retain all Victoria taught, but she felt the fabric of her understanding unraveling. The concepts were foreign and complex, leaving her concerned about how to apply ideas she barely understood to real-life aerial combat.
Frowning, she replayed the most-recent demonstration, squinting hard to track the individual movements of dozens of small fighters, as they wove through one another’s machine gun and rocket fire to maneuver close enough for a kill. She already knew how the battle ended and marked the winning ship. Still, she couldn't see what it did that was so remarkable that it defeated so many opponents.
During her training as a warrior, Keryn always kept aces up her sleeve in every confrontation. She watched her opponent’s subtle body language and facial expression, learning his strengths and weaknesses. Choosing from a vast repertoire of battle techniques, she always found one that exploited her opponent’s weaknesses and left her victorious.
In the cold alloy of a spaceship, however, she couldn't see her opponent’s face. She could only see the darting ship and its bristling arsenal. Could the ship’s movements reveal insight into the pilot’s weaknesses? If not, what chance did she have to overcome the damning firepower of those she would face not only in the Academy but some day in a real confrontation with the Terran Fleet?
“I want the class to split in two,” Victoria ordered from the front of the room. “Half of you move to my right, half to my left.”
To Keryn’s relief, she saw Iana move to her side, while Sasha and her cronies went to the other.
“For the next few hours, I’ll place all of you in direct conflict with your classmates. Each of you will have a uniquely colored pyramid representing your ship. The defensive values of all your ships will be the same, as well as maneuverability and weapon systems. The only thing that sets you apart from your peers is your imagination and what you learned from this class. Take a second to study your ship schematics and select a color. We begin shortly.”
Each of the displays before Keryn’s group had the same sphere. As students chose their colors—Keryn settling on a vibrant red that matched her tattoos—she took a second to read the cadets’ expressions. Some showed faint traces of fear, revealing concern over their inadequacies. For others, confidence and bravado were proudly displayed, though Keryn wondered how much of that was for show and how much was genuine ability.
Frowning, she noticed that Zalide, Sasha’s Uligart boyfriend, was among the members of her group. Somehow, she couldn’t help wondering if he was sent by the Avalon to judge the abilities of the cadets on her side of the room to get an edge on them. She couldn’t escape the feeling, though, that his bravado was warranted.
Keryn exchanged worried glances with Iana shortly before Victoria broke the silence.
“Begin!”
The pyramids being held in suspended animation began moving under the control of the dozen cadets in her group. Ships dodged and wove through one another’s fields of fire, seeking vulnerable targets. Keryn tilted hers into a spiral, barely avoiding a barrage of missile fire from a passing ship. She returned fire weakly on a distant target, which maneuvered easily out of range and avoided her rockets.
Spotting a deep-blue pyramid drifting slowly through the sphere, she sensed easy prey and moved closer to attack. Flashing across the broad sphere, she quickly closed the distance on what she assumed was a damaged opponent.
To her surprise, the ship banked quickly at the last second, looping behind her to open fire. The hull integrity of her ship dropped rapidly on her display, as machine gun fire tore through her flimsy ship. Shortly thereafter, her bright-red pyramid exploded in a shower of sparks. Keryn was dead, the first one of her group to be eliminated.
She cursed herself, as she leaned back in her seat, biting back tears of frustration. Wallowing in self-pity, she barely noticed the figure standing behind her. Turning in her chair, she saw the instructor’s black uniform.
“Never, ever, underestimate an opponent,” Victoria whispered, while the other students continued their competition. “Underestimating anyone will lead to your death.”
“How am I supposed to know which one’s the easy prey?” Keryn asked hoarsely. “I attacked the one that seemed like the easiest kill, and it backfired on me.”
“First of all, treat every opponent as if they’re still alive and fighting strongly, so you can’t be surprised by their withheld firepower.” She leaned forward and hissed the next words into Keryn’s ear. “Second, I’m not training a coward who attacks only the weak and lame. I want pilots with the fortitude to fight straight for the strongest enemy on the battlefield. Always remember that.”
Keryn’s face flushed with surprise and shame, as Victoria stood and walked away. Looking back at the sphere, Keryn saw only three pyramids still remained, the dark blue among them. Scanning her group, only a Lithid, an unfamiliar Avalon, and Sasha’s boyfriend remained.
Within minutes, the dark-blue pyramid performed amazing acrobatics and destroyed the other two opponents. As quickly as it began, Zalide and his dark-blue pyramid were declared the victors. Sasha’s boyfriend set her up to take a fall from the beginning. Keryn was ready for a second chance.
Victoria ran them through the exercise six more times before giving them a break for dinner. Over the next six battles, Keryn wound up in last place two more times. Her best finish was sixth of the twelve students. Zalide finished first every time.
By the time the group broke for dinner, Keryn was emotionally exhausted and ready for a meal and bed. Victoria gave them little hope of rest.
“Eat well and relax,” Victoria said. “Talk among yourselves to figure out where you went wrong during the competitions. Learn from your mistakes. I offer you that advice, because your night is far from over. Once you finish eating, I expect you back in your seats, ready to continue. The next part of your training will test your abilities in the air and find out how much you learned during classroom instruction.”
Keryn, crestfallen, knew the major concepts of three-dimensional combat still eluded her.
“When you return, we’ll put you in the cockpit and see how well you do behind the controls of a simulation.”
CHAPTER TEN
Tucking her arms under her head, Keryn stared up at the plain white ceiling above her bunk. Though her muscles still ached from physical training, her brain felt like a ball of lead. All day, her class learned tactics, applied them to mock battles within the spheres, and ended the day in a virtual cockpit. Pitting new cadets against computer-simulated targets enabled Keryn to experience the nuances of controlling a fighter during combat simulations, trying to grow accustomed to three-dimensional battles in space. She failed miserably.
The cockpit felt constricting throughout the exercise. Her throat tightened, as silvery digital threads created the full cockpit from the blank computer program. As the metallic alloy closed around her like a coffin, she felt her heart race from claustrophobia. Growing up on the Wyndgaart home world, with its wide-open spaces and freedom, the simulation made her incredibly uneasy.
Throughout the simulated battle, she never shook the feeling of confinement and captivity. Her piloting skills suffered, resulting in her ship’s being destroyed all five times she ran the program. She’d been so confident at the start of the day. As the sun set, and she unwound in the room she shared with Iana, Keryn felt defeated. Doubt crept into her mind. For the first time since arriving, she wondered if she was cut out to be a pilot.
I could help, the Voice whispered in her mind. I’m capable of more than just making you a warrior. Let me help.
Keryn rolled on her side to face the bare wall. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any.”
Spare me, the Voice said harshly. Do you honestly believe I like seeing you like this?
Keryn wiped away tears that threatened to spill down her face. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she told the empty room, “especially not with you.”
Someday, you’ll realize that I’m very much a part of you. You can’t turn me off like throwing a switch. The embarrassment you feel right now—believe me, I know you’re swimming in a pool of self-pity—is something I feel, too.
“Like you actually care.”
I do, Keryn. I have only one purpose, and that’s to turn you into the greatest possible warrior. Right now, we’re both failures, and it’s mainly because you’re so adamant about fighting me. I could offer assistance and make you great. Instead, you wallow near the bottom of your class, because you can’t grasp the nuances of space combat. Let me help you!
“No,” she growled. “I got here without you. I’ll graduate without you, too.”
Fat chance. Not the way you’re going.
A knock at the door interrupted her before she could offer a harsh retort. Keryn rolled over, rubbing away as much of the puffiness around her eyes as she could.
“Come in,” she called hoarsely, her voice thick with emotion.
The door opened, and Iana stuck her head in to scan the room. Seeing no one but Keryn, she opened the door the rest of the way and walked in, looking perplexed.
“Why’d you knock?” Keryn asked.
“I thought you might’ve brought someone home with you. I heard you talking when I came to the door. I would’ve felt terrible if I barged in while you were with someone.”
Keryn couldn’t suppress a laugh. Mourning her own failures, spending time with a man, especially a fellow cadet, was the furthest thing from her mind. Seeing Iana’s hurt expression, she quickly regained her composure.
“Believe me, Iana. I was definitely not with anyone.”
“Then maybe you should be. You’ve been cooped up in the room crying into your pillow since class ended. You need to get up and out. Let’s get a drink at the Academy’s bar. A change of scenery will do you good.”
Keryn shook her head. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I’d rather sit in the dark.”
“Come on. You need to get over today. It was one day. You’ll get better.”
“And if I don’t?” She voiced the question that plagued her ever since class ended in disaster.
“You will.” Iana sat beside her on the bed. “Everyone struggles in the beginning.”
“Not everyone,” Keryn replied, thinking darkly of Sasha and Zalide.
As if reading her mind, Iana said, “Forget Sasha for one night. Forget the Academy, too. Tomorrow is a whole new day.”
“Tomorrow,” Keryn replied in mock exasperation, collapsing backward onto the bed and covering her face with her hands. “I don’t even know what the hell Victoria meant by aerial jousting, but I already have to do it tomorrow.”
Laughing, Iana tugged Keryn’s shoulders, trying to make her sit up again. “It can’t be all that bad. Who knows? Maybe joust is code for delicious desserts.”
Giggling with her, Keryn shoved her playfully off the bed. She was glad to have Iana around. Even at her darkest, her Pilgrim roommate was capable of making her laugh.
“See?” Iana stood. “Now you’re laughing. Since you’re in such a good mood, there’s no excuse why you can’t join me at the bar for a few drinks.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Keryn said, still smiling, “but I really think I’ll pass tonight.” She stopped Iana with a raised hand. “Just give me one night of wallowing, then I’ll go to the bar with you.”
Iana narrowed her eyes an
d stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “Fine. Enjoy your pity party. I’m still going out. I’ll look so ravishing, all the guys will forget I’m a Pilgrim and will line up at the bar to buy me a drink or take me home. Unfortunately, I’ll have to tell them they can’t come home with me, because my roommate’s too busy feeling sorry for herself.”
“Oh, get going!” She threw a pillow at her. “Have a good time tonight. I mean it.”
“Wish you were coming with me. We’re damn near unstoppable together.”
Both laughed, as the door closed behind Iana. Still smiling, Keryn lay back on the bed, tucking her arms under her head and returning to staring at the ceiling.
Part of her longed to leave the room and join the others, but a deeper ache of shame burned in her chest. The Wyndgaarts were a proud race, but Keryn had done little of which she could feel proud.
Closing her eyes, she ran through her combats and subsequent defeats repeatedly, remembering every painful maneuver with crystal clarity. She sought the one revelation that would help her succeed tomorrow, and, with hope, during the rest of her time at the Academy. No matter how many times she replayed the day’s events, however, she couldn’t figure out what she did wrong, or what Zalide did that was special enough to result in his repeated victories.
As she grew tired and irritated by the thought of her failures, she considered the coming day’s training. Before the end of class, Victoria stood at the front of the room with a deep frown. Keryn wasn’t the only one who performed dismally during training, and the Avalon instructor was disappointed.
“Spend tonight thinking about your failures,” Victoria said, visibly upset. “Tomorrow, take the lessons from today and apply them in combat. You won’t have the safety net of knowing your losses are only in a simulation. Tomorrow, your combat will be real, your losses painful. For your first time this year, but far from the last, you’ll have the opportunity to experience the aerial joust.”
Burden of Sisyphus Page 8
