Pursuing Dreams (The Young Soldier Book 1)

by MK Clark

  “The worst kind, the kind that requires time to fix. But we can fix it.”

  “I might remind you that time is not one of the luxuries we currently have in abundance, hence the need for this operation.”

  “Yet you will have to find some. This is a delicate process. Things happen. I am not a god. I cannot wave my hand and make these problems go away. I―”

  “All right, enough. I understand.”

  “How is it on your side?”

  “We seem to have chosen well. Everything is progressing as planned.”

  “What of O’Hara? I have not heard anything about that young man in a while.”

  “Thank the powers that be! We have kept a close eye on him. Despite the volatile nature of his career, he has mostly stayed out of trouble.”

  “Nice to hear he appreciates the freedom he’s been given.”

  “Hardly, doctor. He seems quite content to infuriate every one of his superior officers. Needless to say, he seems to be having a hard time settling down. All the same, he is doing well himself. It seems his father was right: a hands-off approach works the best.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t believe I said but.”

  “No. However, your voice did.”

  “Mmm. Well, the next few months should be interesting. They’ve decided to become more involved in his placement. At least he’ll see some familiar faces.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Of course you know. You have made him your personal hobby for years. However, I am not interested enough to pressure you for an answer.”

  “That’s a first.”

  “What I am interested in is when I will be seeing the boy. As I’m sure you are well aware, I have not seen him since he was fourteen. He is long overdue for an appointment.”

  “I don’t believe it is necessary. As I said, I have been able to keep a close eye on him. His behavior has not changed.”

  “Your opinion means nothing. The order was every two years—”

  “I will take care of it.”

  Chapter 22

  March 28, 627 T.A.

  Don sighed and set his duffle bag down, rolling his shoulders from the stiffness. He was being transferred again. It was just one more stop on his never-ending journey.

  He glanced around at the dingy halls and decided the food stations would be substandard and overpriced. He’d better just wait it out. His ride would be here soon enough. There’d be sufficient food available after that, and he wouldn’t have to question whether it was safe to eat. Until then, he’d just have to find a way to entertain himself.

  Don picked his duffle bag back up and headed down the hall. There wasn’t much to look at. Fatigued and stained walls, shops that stayed alive simply because there was nothing else around.

  Life on the edges of civilization was certainly striking. But it was the people who were the worst. Sullen faces and eyes harboring dashed hopes and dreams. Life here was a dead end. They weren’t the forerunners of a great expansion, as they had been told. They were just the shmucks who’d been duped into believing it. Now they were too far in debt to leave. He’d seen it all before.

  “Lovely,” he said to himself and then glanced at his watch. Thank goodness for short layovers. He headed back toward the gates. It was less gloomy there.

  His jaunt had taken only a little over twenty minutes, but by the time he got back, there was already another pilot waiting. This piqued his interest a little. He didn’t hail the other till he could see the pilot’s face.

  Recognition stopped him in his tracks. “Syke?”

  The boy looked up and grinned when he saw Don. “Long time, no see, my man. How’s things?”

  “They’re―” Don paused and shrugged. “What are you doing here?” he asked instead, dropping his bag.

  “Waiting for a ride, same as you.”

  Don nodded. “Same one?”

  “That would be something, now,” Syke answered with a tinge of longing. “It just hasn’t been the same since Venom. I’d like to fly with you all again.”

  Don took a moment to look the other over. He was slumped in his chair, but Don would guess he’d gotten a bit taller. Still, something was missing. Don couldn’t quite place it, but he looked less wild, less cheeky.

  “You got promoted,” he said, indicating Syke’s rank.

  Syke raised an eyebrow. “Against my better judgment, yes. I warned them not to do it, but I’ve apparently survived long enough, they thought I needed a reward. Then again, maybe they just lost a lot of higher-ranked pilots and are compensating. I see you jumped, too.”

  “Just to a senior pilot.”

  “But no one can treat you like a rookie now.”

  Don laughed. “No one’s treated me like a rookie for a while, Syke.”

  “Because you don’t act like one,” Syke answered matter-of-factly, “an’ that just comes with time.” Don didn’t say anything, and, after a moment, Syke continued, “Guess we can’t call you General Nugget anymore, huh?”

  Don shrugged. “Been a long time since someone called me that, too.”

  “So what they call you?”

  “Whatever they want. I move around too much for anything to stick.”

  Syke frowned at this. “That’s different. Never heard of a nomad pilot before.”

  “Not really,” he said, and explained immediately. “No one is too keen on having the general’s son around for long. I don’t see how that’s any different at all.”

  “Hmmm,” was all Syke said, then his eyes focused on an approaching figure. “We got company.”

  Don turned.

  “Specialist Martin?” the man asked, and Syke nodded. The man turned to Don. “Airman O’Hara?” He didn’t wait for Don to reply. “Your Hopper is waiting. Follow me.”

  Don slung his bag across his shoulder. The man was already turning to lead the way. Don glanced over at Syke, who motioned him not to wait.

  “Well, it looks like we got a stroke of luck, after all,” he said when he’d caught up.

  “Looks like,” Don agreed.

  When they boarded their Hopper, Don noticed the striking contrast it had to the station. It was clean and shiny. That was a good sign. Yet, he saw Syke’s frown deepen. Something was bothering him deeply. Don did not ask. Syke was always the person who could be counted on to speak his mind when he was ready to.

  The flight took only a few minutes. The Hopper landed with a thud, and the hatch opened before they had their restraints off. Don jumped to the floor of the docking bay and made a small bow as Syke followed him. “Welcome to your new home, the Pilgrim.”

  “I believe that’s my line.”

  Don spun on his heel in shock; he knew that voice. There stood Eli, wearing the same small smile Don had come to miss. He held out a hand; Don clasped it wordlessly.

  “Welcome home, Don.”

  “Whe—? How?” he didn’t know what to ask first. “It’s really good to see you!” he finally managed.

  “So you here, too, eh, Preacher?” Syke drawled from somewhere behind him.

  “Same to you,” Eli answered politely. “Read any of that book yet?”

  Syke shrugged. “Here and there.”

  Don looked on in utter confusion. Eli motioned for them to follow. “We have much to talk about. I think you will be genuinely interested in what we have found out.”

  “We?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Don suddenly felt wary. He knew the look of disquiet that he’d seen on Sykes face was now mirrored in his own. Eli led them to the pilots' quarters, which as far as Don could see contained only Space Jumpers.

  “Is this―?”

  “Not yet,” Eli interrupted. He showed them where to store their bags for the moment and then ushered them out.

  “Should we be concerned?” Syke finally asked.

  Eli pursed his lips. “I see you haven’t learned any patience.”

  Syke grinned impishly.
They entered a room containing fewer bodies than the first. Eli scanned through them, and then his eyes locked on to one. Heads turned to identify the intruders. Someone gasped. Then a body hurtled toward them, scooping Don and Syke into a collective hug.

  “I knew it!” It was a voice he would recognize anywhere. She had spoken in his ear so many times. “I knew you’d come. As soon as I saw Eli, I knew it.”

  For the first time in a long time, Don felt a lump form in his throat.

  “Good to see you, too, Xena,” Syke answered in a muffled tone. “Mind letting us breathe?”

  Lana pulled back from them, her glare made less threatening by the unshed tears in her eyes. She pushed Syke roughly from her and then turned back to Don. “Hey, Nugget.”

  “Hey, Lana,” he managed.

  “Miss you on my wing, kid. Glad you haven’t done anything stupid while I’ve been gone.”

  “Well, now,” Don said as he made a face, “I never said I hadn’t done anything stupid.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Although,” he continued quickly, “I’m still alive. Therefore, nothing too dangerous.”

  “In other words,” Syke interrupted, “he still flying on borrowed luck.”

  Before Lana could let loose, Eli stepped in. “Thought we’d give them the low-down together.”

  Lana nodded slightly and glanced back at the group she’d been with. “See y’all later.” They let her go without protest. “Lots of reuniting on this ship,” she explained as they walked. “Of course, that’s unavoidable with as many Space Jumpers as they’ve got here.”

  “Would you two just tell us what’s going on?”

  Lana glanced over at Eli. “Didn’t you tell them anything?”

  Eli hid a smile. “The wait was good for them.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Lana rolled her eyes. “Boys.” She stopped at some railing and turned to face them. Don looked over and saw they had made it back to the hangar, albeit a deck above. “Let’s not keep them in the dark any longer.”

  Eli stepped forward. “When you stepped off that Hopper, what was the first thing you noticed?”

  “There are a hell of a lot of Space Jumpers on this Cruiser,” Don answered.

  “More than you know,” Lana said quietly. They looked at her questioningly.

  “This ship,” she said, motioning with her hand, “is almost completely manned by Space Jumpers.”

  “Most of them are very experienced Space Jumpers.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  Eli and Lana traded looks. “We think it’s an experiment.”

  “We think they’re trying to see if it’s possible to have a spaceship that contains only Space Jumpers. If they can, then think of what they could do.”

  “They could settle the problem of growing hostility on ships among the different branches.”

  “They could expand their forces.”

  Lana regarded them as they absorbed this information.

  “In other words,” Eli continued, “this could be a turning point in the war, if it works.”

  Syke put up a hand. “You said mostly run?”

  Lana nodded. “Upper-level officers are Space Fighters. So far, they don’t seem to have a problem with us.”

  “Everyone on the bridge, control rooms, hangar deck chief?”

  Eli shook his head. “Some of the bridge crew are ours, as well. Not the CO or the XO, but I think we’ve got the navi and the com officer.”

  “The hangar chief is theirs,” Lana allowed. “The rest of the crew that aren't ours are former SJs and only a few regular Space Forces personnel.”

  “Well,” Don said and leaned back against the rail. “This certainly is an unexpected turn of events.”

  They all looked at him in silence.

  A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “My stay may be more permanent than I thought.”

  Syke understood instantly. “Our Don,” he expounded for the other two, “is a regular ol’ nomad. Just can’t seem to settle down, this one.”

  “That is only because he’s been waiting for the right company,” Lana answered smugly and put an arm around his shoulder.

  “Depends on the CP,” he warned.

  Eli grinned. “That won’t be a problem.”

  Don looked from Eli to Lana. Then he turned to Syke.

  “I know what you thinking, man, but it’s not gonna be her,” Syke said carefully.

  “I was there when she left. They graduated her.”

  “Graduated her? Can they do that?”

  Eli’s face fell a little as he looked from Don to Lana and seemed to realize what Don was thinking. Lana nodded. “Yeah, they can. Yo-Yo had been fighting it for months. We were her last assignment as a Space Jumper. She knew that.”

  Eli continued hurriedly, “The CP is cool, though. I promise, Don, he’s not going to pawn you off. In fact,” he said, glancing at his wrist, “we should probably be heading to the PCC about now.”

  Lana nodded. “You two were the last ones. He wanted to address us when you two were settled in.”

  “I’d hardly say we was settled in,” Syke drawled. Then he winked and pushed himself off the wall. “Lead the way.”

  Lana steered Don around, refusing to drop her arm until she had to. She pointed things out as they walked, chatting so much that Don and Syke hardly had to say a thing. When they reached the briefing room door, she gave him another squeeze. He smiled understandingly and took a seat beside her, Syke and Eli behind them.

  The room filled quickly. There was not a pilot in sight over the age of twenty. It was a strange feeling for Don. He was so used to being part of the detested minority.

  Finally, one of the older pilots walked to the front of the room. “Now that we are all gathered,” he started with a genuine smile, “I wanted to welcome you officially. I am Second Lieutenant Titus. I look forward to working with all of you.

  “As of yet, we have no official orders.” He paused, and some of the geniality faded. “I am certain you have all had a good look around. I think we all realize we have not been told the full story behind our assignment here on the Pilgrim.”

  There were nods and murmurs, but no one offered anything more. They were all waiting for Titus to finish.

  “I cannot pretend to know or understand what the purpose is. I have heard discussions suspecting some sort of experiment or test. Our ship’s name seems to support these speculations. Whatever the case may be, I can only hope that we will all perform at our best. In this way, let us prove to them that we are up to the challenge.”

  There was a collective cheer. Don looked over his shoulder. Eli caught his glance and leaned forward. “Yeah, he gives a good speech. Still, I think you’ll like him. Just give him a chance.”

  “I always give them a chance.”

  The cheering had died down. Titus smiled again. “I would be happy to take this time to answer as many questions as I am able.”

  “Short and to the point,” Don whispered. “I like that.”

  Lana smirked. It was quickly apparent that there were no questions.

  “Okay,” Titus continued, “if I could please have a word with Specialists McAllister, Gray, Tinder, Bracht, and Martin? The rest of you are dismissed.”

  They all stood. Don turned to look at Syke. The troubled look was back. Don set a hand on his shoulder and then filed out with the others.

  “Anybody got a clue?” Lana asked.

  Both Don and Eli shook their heads in response.

  “Then I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  It took longer than any of them expected. When the remaining few pilots trudged out, their faces were unreadable. Titus and Syke were last.

  Titus paused when he saw them. “Ki? Amal? O’Hara?” he asked, eyes moving from one to the other as he spoke their names. They saluted in turn. Titus laughed quietly then turned to Syke. “I see what you mean, Specialist Martin. Your request is granted.” He gave the three
one last look, smiled, and continued past them. Syke’s mouth twisted as Titus walked away.

  “So?” Don asked.

  Syke let out a sigh and seemed to thaw. “The good news is that we’re all in the same flight. The bad news is that I’m in charge.”

  Not long after Titus’ welcome speech, Don found himself once again before the lieutenant’s interested gaze.

  “You understand,” Titus began, “why we must have this conversation?”

  Don fought the urge to roll his eyes. Did he know why? Of course he understood why! He’d only stood before four or five other CPs in the last few months and had the same conversation.

  “Sure,” he said, then shrugged. “I hear I’ve got quite the reputation.”

  “That, you do,” Titus laughed. “In fact, I’ve received quite a few letters describing you in, well, uncomplimentary terms.”

  Don pursed his lips.

  Titus saw and nodded. “Yes, I thought you might enjoy that. What I want to know is why? You have yet to have a CP who has not transferred you the first moment he or she could. Not a single one of them has a good word to say about you, despite your impressive flight record. Why is that?”

  Don’s eyes flashed defiantly. “Sir, I believe you would have to ask them.”

  Titus sighed and sat back. He studied Don quietly for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was amiable. “Well, I can see why you weren’t much liked by the others. You are far too ready to take offense. You are looking for a fight even with those who have no quarrel with you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Don answered as was expected.

  “Understand this, O’Hara. I am not your enemy. Unless you give me one, I see no reason why we cannot work with each other.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  Titus’ head tilted quizzically. “Just like that?”

  “Yes, sir.” Don nodded. “Just like that.”

  Confusion was now written across the older boy’s face, but he shrugged, deciding not to pursue the subject. “That is all I wanted to hear. You are dismissed.”

  Don saluted and turned. When he reached the mess hall, he heard his name called and located the table. “Hey, Gunner,” he answered when in earshot. “How’s things?”