Pursuing Dreams (The Young Soldier Book 1)

by MK Clark

  “Power loss and possible detonation,” Don reeled off. “If no other option is available, a pilot can go dark and let the spatial temperature cool the craft. This leaves the pilot stranded and blind.”

  They turned into the locker rooms and began to strip off their jumpsuits while Don questioned Caleb and he questioned Eli in turn. This continued, as it had for the past few days, for as long as they could come up with things to quiz each other on. To those who inhabited the same part of the Fidelity as Don and his friends, it had become normal to see them walk through the halls as they questioned each other, to find them heads-down as they studied diagrams, or to ignore them as they talked to the walls in the showers.

  By the time they reached the mess hall for dinner, the silence between questions had stretched out to a few minutes as they racked their brains for something new. Don forced himself to eat what was on his plate, despite the fingers clawing at his insides. Then the five boys returned to their table and their tablets to stare down at the pages.

  When Don realized he was reading the same sentence for the seventh time, he decided it was time to retire. He opened his mouth to say good night, and he found he could only emit a sort of strangled croak. The others didn’t even try; they merely twitched spastically in what he assumed were nods or ignored him completely.

  Don placed his tablet carefully in the small drawer at the head of his bunk. He crawled in after it and heard the other airmen already in their bunks wish him good luck. For a long time, Don lay awake, staring at the top of his bunk while the nausea in his gut became almost unbearable. He knew part of the test was a mind game. It was always a mind game. He just needed to play along. But it was harder here than it had been in Basic, and a small voice in the back of his head kept telling him he was failing at it, that they were winning.

  It was a long time before he finally fell asleep, lulled by the conversations around him.

  He was being chased by books twice his size. They gnashed their pages at him and tried to snap him up.

  “You’ll never pass,” Sergeant Cohan’s voice echoed through the nightmare. “You always fail right at the end.”

  His father was suddenly beside him. Only it wasn’t exactly his father; he looked almost transparent, like a hologram. “You should give up and come back home. Go to Commander’s School, now, before your dreams are crushed.”

  “No!” Don screamed. “I won’t! Leave me alone!”

  “You’re a fool, Don O’Hara,” Tyson said and pushed him backward. He fell into darkness and then kept falling. He was surrounded by textbooks. More and more of them appeared, and he found himself being crushed by them.

  Don woke with a yelp, his body and bunk soaked with water.

  “Get up! Get up, you miserable, brainless worm!”

  Don tumbled out of bed, his panic a mix of dreams and this physical reality. His didn’t have time to work out anything before the voice was screaming once more, driving him from the room. He wasn’t alone, either. The other four were hard on his heels.

  At some point, as they stumbled through the halls, fleeing their tormenter, the boys became separated, and Don was alone. As the door to his small room shut behind him, Don turned toward it. There was no keypad or sensor to open it.

  Don shivered. Only then did he register the goosebumps on his wet skin. The room was freezing. He walked slowly to the desk and chair that stood alone in the middle of the room. Waiting on the desk was a test. He couldn’t help but wonder if the others found themselves facing the same challenge.

  He sat on the edge of the chair and clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering. He stared stupidly at the first question and then started as the room filled with a pulsing, high-pitched noise. The light above him began to flicker. Don waited, tense. Five seconds, ten, thirty… Nothing else happened.

  He looked down at the next question, having to squint to see it properly. It’s a mind game, he reminded himself. They just wanted to know if he could perform under pressure.

  I don’t care.

  The thought burst into his head. It was immediate and unbidden. It surprised him a little, but he found he meant it. All he wanted to do was lay his head down, place his hands over his ears, and refuse to continue. He didn’t want to play anymore.

  Still, he kept looking at the test. Ten questions later, he finally found one he could answer. He selected the correct letter. One down. It was a start.

  He blew on his fingers and bounced his legs up and down to keep them from turning numb. He didn’t stay on any one question for too long. He hoped that as he read, more and more answers would come to him. The second time through the test would be better, he told himself. He’d just take a look at everything first.

  Two hundred forty-nine questions later, he wagered he’d answered about half the questions. Head now aching from the blaring noise and flashing lights, Don found himself at the last question.

  This is the only question you must answer. Do you want to pass?

  Yes

  No

  For a moment, Don sat in disbelief. He read the question again. It really did say what he thought. He selected Yes and pushed the tablet away. He dropped his head to the desk and wrapped his arms around his freezing body. He didn’t know how much time passed before the door opened and the tablet was snatched from the desk.

  “Do you want to quit? Is that what this is?” a voice yelled.

  The speaker wasn’t anyone he had seen before.

  “A pathetic monkey like you doesn’t deserve to hold even a toy plane.” He shoved the test in Don’s face. “Blank, the whole first page! Couldn’t even answer the easy questions! Did you just give up? Is that it? You want out?”

  Don bounced his legs, trying to get some feeling back into them. He ignored the man screaming at him and stared at the desk. Leave me alone, he thought. I answered the question that matters. Just leave me alone!

  “Get out of here!” the man shouted. “I’ve never seen such a wretched creature in all my life. Go, you filthy mutt. Go, get out!”

  Don scrambled to do as he was bidden. His cold, stiff joints ground as he stood, and his knees nearly gave out as he raced for the hall that he knew would bring warmth.

  Respite from the noise was short-lived. Out came the man. He shouted directions, and Don stumbled forward, following the instructions.

  Finally, he entered another room, and the man did not follow. There sat the figure of one of his classmates, Philip. The other boy met his eyes. Don could see a sort of wildness in them.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  “Dunno,” Don said, rubbing his chest as he tried to warm his body. “Where’d you come from?”

  “Written exam. You?”

  “Same. Some exam, huh?”

  Philip scowled. “I don’t think it’s over.”

  The door on the opposite side of the small room opened, and they both turned warily toward it. It revealed only darkness. They waited. No one came through it.

  “I think,” Don started, “that we’re supposed to go in there.”

  “I get that feeling, too,” Philip answered.

  Neither of them moved.

  “Right.”

  “Yeah, I’m not much interested, either.”

  “Probably won’t pass if we don’t go.”

  Finally, Don stepped forward. He paused at the door and peered into the next room.

  “What do you see?”

  “A wall.”

  “Sorry?”

  Don stepped to the side and waved Philip forward. Beyond the door was a hallway that disappeared into darkness on their left and right.

  “Got a preference?”

  Don shook his head.

  “Left, then?”

  “It’s as good a choice as any,” Don said and motioned for Philip to go first. “You chose; you lead.”

  Philip scowled but moved forward into the hall. He paused for a moment, then turned to Don with a shrug.

  The two walked quietly int
o the shadows. Their eyes adjusted to the dark as they moved farther from the open door. The hall turned sharply once and then again after that. They came to a split and took the right. More turns, and doors opened as they passed, although they agreed not to enter them. Then they came to a dead end.

  “It’s a maze,” Don finally said.

  “For the love of everything pure and perfect, why would a maze be part of our exam?”

  Don shook his head and turned back the way they came. He had a hunch, something he wanted to test. He backtracked till he reached the last turn the hall had taken. Instead of turning, as the hall should, a door blocked their way back. He hadn’t noticed the doorway when they had first passed through. Now, however, the dim light made sense.

  “It was so we didn’t notice.”

  “What?”

  “The darkness. It was so we didn’t notice there were doors. See? We can’t go back.”

  “Brilliant.” Philip turned from the door and began to move away. “Then I guess we’ll have to take that side hall up here.”

  Not long after, Don noticed a light coming from around the edge of another door. He peered around the side and then ducked back behind the wall. Philip opened his mouth to question Don but was interrupted by voices from inside the room.

  “What was that?”

  “We’ve got company.”

  Don grabbed Philip’s wrist and scrambled away from the door, down a right fork and to another hall.

  “How good is your hand-to-hand?” Don gasped.

  “Okay. Yours?”

  “Fair. They’ve got weapons. We’re gonna have to disarm them before they get a shot off.”

  Philip nodded. “Did they have any thermal imaging on them?”

  Don shook his head in answer.

  “Good,” Philip continued, “then we can use this darkness to our advantage”

  The voices that had followed them were getting louder, and Don fought the urge to keep running. “There were four of them,” he whispered from where he crouched.

  “Clear!” called a voice, near enough to make Don’s heart race with anticipation.

  Philip pointed to himself and then to the ceiling. Don nodded and braced himself against the wall. Philip hoisted himself up on Don’s back and began to inch his body toward the ceiling, hands and feet planted against opposite walls of the hallway.

  Don leaned back against the wall, hardly daring to breath as the figures made their way to where the boys waited. Don could hear the rustling of cloth, accented by the thud each boot made upon the deck. They were right around the corner now.

  There was a whoosh of air as a body came into view, weapon extended, ready to fire. Don grabbed the barrel and twisted away as he yanked the soldier forward. A shot fired away into the dark. Don slammed his knee into the man’s abdomen. He felt his bones crunch against something hard.

  The man grabbed Don by the leg and threw him to the ground as his partner rounded the corner. Philip dropped onto the second man, wrenching the gun to point toward the ceiling. Don’s soldier looked over at his partner, and Don took the opportunity to hook the back of his soldier’s ankle with his foot, pulling the man’s leg out from under him.

  When the scuffle finally ended, Don sat against the wall, panting. He prodded at his knee here and there, wincing a little.

  “You okay?”

  “Just bruised, I think,” Don answered.

  Philip nodded. “Right. Well, I don’t know where your other two are. Maybe they went down the other fork, but they probably heard our little ruckus.”

  Don picked up the MAG-R4 he’d acquired and pulled the MELBA rig from his opponent’s unconscious form. Philip did the same, securing his own rig as they jogged away. Philip took the lead on the way back to the lit room, while Don limped behind him.

  A quick scan of the room showed them it was empty, with one door on the opposite wall. They were only a little surprised to hear the door slide shut behind them after they entered. Then Don heard a clunk and a hissing sound. Vents opened in the floor, and a hazy gas rushed toward their feet.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Philip exclaimed.

  Don could hear a panicked note in his voice. He raced to the closest door and examined it quickly before turning and doing the same to the other one, no weaknesses that could be quickly exploited, just keypads.

  “We’ve got to unlock them. They can be unlocked.”

  “Great!” Philip snarled as the smoke reached their knees. “Got the code? Have any guesses? We probably have another ten seconds.”

  Frantically, Don scanned the room again, and then turned his eyes to the keypad while Philip pointed his MAG-R4 at the other one. Philip’s keypad exploded in sparks and smoke, but the door didn’t budge. Seconds ticked away.

  There. Something was a bit different about these. “An ident card!” he said, turning excitedly to Philip. “Please tell me you have one of their ident cards!”

  Philip scrambled with his belt. After a moment, he pulled a small electronic card from one of the holders. Don snatched it from his hand and held it to the reader.

  The door opened, and the two boys scrambled from the room. The cloudy air swirled around them. Don stopped abruptly when his eyes landed upon the figures of two officers he hadn’t seen before.

  The men did not introduce themselves. Instead, they ordered the boys to disarm and follow them. Don shed the weapon and belt he’d commandeered, and followed the first of the two officers out. Philip was left with the other.

  Don stumbled a little as they walked. A headache had been building since he’d woken. Now, it pulsed behind his eyes. But it was more than that. His head felt heavy, and his thoughts almost sluggish. Something wasn’t right.

  Soon after, they entered a training room Don immediately recognized. Full Mission Training simulators filled the room. Don didn’t have to be told what to do. He climbed into one of the FMT simulators and waited. Once the door shut, he sat in the dark, wondering if he’d ever actually woken up or if this was, in fact, still a dream. He pulled his Adaptive Piloting Reactionary Interface Link from his neck and plugged it into the simulator before wrapping his fingers around the stick. They didn’t seem to want to hold on.

  The gas, he realized. The gas did this. Before he could identify what else it had effected, words flashed across his NOTAM screen.

  Mission objective: Destroy all enemy spacecraft.

  The lights inside the simulator clicked on. They were a familiar mixture of green, red, and white. It was the perfect copy of the inside of a Cobra. His HUD switched to project an image of the starry space around his Cobra, and had he not entered the simulator moments before, he would have believed he was truly flying.

  Usually, this was the enjoyable part his day, but now he could not shake the tightness in his chest. He ordered the APRIL to begin running a check of the Cobra’s systems. All the primary flight controls were in working order, but his left wing showed damage, and his EGT and turn coordinator were not responding.

  An alert sounded, and Don let his gaze drop to his two radars. He was alone, with five enemy fighters closing in. He didn’t move. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think.

  Don swore loudly, willing his brain to work. He needed to move. If he didn’t move, he was dead. He didn’t want to die. Move! There, a moment of clarity. His hands reacted, moving across the controls.

  He flipped the Cobra to face his targets and locked on to the middle one. He fired a missile, hoping it would hit, and turned to the next. He squeezed the trigger, and lasers began to fly past him. He could feel some of them hit the Cobra and stayed aimed at them as long as he dared before breaking off to save his spacecraft.

  When he came about, three were behind him, one was in his sights, and the fifth was off the radar completely. Don dropped two countermeasures to draw off enemy missiles and concentrated on the bandit in front of him.

  There was a flash as the Zarwean fighter exploded. Don flew straight through it, praying h
is Cobra would stay in one piece and not hit the debris. At the same time, he hoped his pursuers wouldn’t be so lucky. It was a stupid plan, a crazy plan. The only plan his clouded mind could come up with.

  His body slammed against the side of the cockpit, and Don realized through the blinding pain that he had forgotten to strap himself in. The pain was good. It focused his thoughts and cleared his mind. His Cobra shook violently as enemy shots found him. Don tried to brace himself with his legs, just enough so he could begin defensive tactics.

  Lights blinked all around him, and his APRIL spouted warnings at him. He had no time to pay attention to any of them. His vision streaked, unable to focus on any one thing as his Cobra spun. He slammed the stick forward, trying desperately to regain control.

  A single thought was prominent in his mind: You are going to lose. He punched the VHF radio, despite knowing no one was there, and slammed his foot onto the thrusters at the same time. The radio fizzed as the panel sparked. Don pulled his hand away quickly. The ammeter, VHF, and one radar all went dark.

  Somehow, he locked on to an enemy and shot his second missile, and last, thanks to whomever had planned this damned mission. It hit, but the Zarwean craft remained intact. Don yelled in frustration and turned his guns upon it. It blew up while he felt his own fighter taking more hits. Then, the screen went black.

  Breathing heavily, Don tumbled out of the simulator’s cockpit, blood trickling from a cut above his eyebrow. Major Fox stood waiting for him. Don straightened quickly and saluted, his whole body trembling.

  “Follow me, please.”

  “Yes, sir!” Don said, voice cracking. And he did, winding through doors and halls on wobbly legs, wanting only to be done. His head and knee throbbed painfully. He wasn’t sure why the major was there, or what he was going to be forced to do next. Don kept going only because his brain wasn’t working well enough to consider stopping.