Pursuing Dreams (The Young Soldier Book 1)

by MK Clark

  Don glanced at the door and frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. He turned to question Tyson, but his friend had already disappeared into the crowd. Surrendering himself to the inevitable, Don entered the room. York was already there.

  “Hey, man. You know what’s going on here?”

  Don answered with a shrug, setting himself down in one of the chairs. “I assume we’ll know shortly.”

  “I don’t like this,” York spat, launching himself off the table where he had perched. “It’s got to do with the Wasps. I know it. That didn’t go so well last time.”

  York was nervous. Don didn’t blame him. As it was, he didn’t have time to answer before the door opened again. An officer walked through and tossed two tablets on the table. Belatedly, Don and York saluted. It went unnoticed.

  “You will read through and memorize the information on these tablets. They will be wiped when you are finished.”

  Don exchanged a wary glance with York. He picked up one of the tablets and began to peruse it. There was a map at the end. It looked complicated.

  “How much time do we have, sir?”

  “Five hours.”

  “Not until the mission start, sir,” he said and somehow managed to keep the frustration out of his voice. “How much time till we must vacate this room?”

  “Five hours, specialist. A guard will be stationed outside the room to make sure you are not disturbed. You will not be allowed re-entry once you leave. You are not to share your mission with anyone, understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  York waited until the door had closed behind the man before he exploded. “Seriously? What the hell is with this mission? It’s not like the Wasps are a secret anymore. Even the Zarweans know we have them.”

  “Maybe that’s why,” Don answered. “The fewer people who know, the less chance there is of something being intercepted. But really, it doesn’t matter. We’d better get started. This won’t be easy.”

  York grunted, but mimicked Don, picking up his tablet and beginning to read. After a while, Don heard him mumbling. He only caught the tail end of what his comrade was saying.

  “Going to have to check each other, make sure we really got it. Don’t want to be getting lost out there.”

  Don didn’t answer. He was beginning to see what Tyson had said about only being told one part. Their notes mentioned nothing about ground troop movement. It spoke only of targets to be sought out and destroyed.

  In the end, it took them a little over three hours before they were finished. The mission itself was simple enough: get to the target, drop their payload. It was the route that was difficult, and if anything went wrong, there were very few alternatives. Still, they had managed to find some. Satisfied, they placed the tables on the table and left. The guard took no notice of them nor moved from his post as they walked down the hall.

  “How long do you think he’s gonna stay there?”

  “Probably till those tablets are wiped,” Don mused. He wasn’t paying a lot of attention. He was distracted by the empty halls.

  “Now what?”

  Don gave him a small shrug. “I figure I’ll head back to the commons, try to grasp what’s going on.”

  “That’s right. Your platoon likes you.”

  “Like is a bit of a strong word,” Don countered. “It’s more that they abide me, or rather, they’ve been ordered to tolerate me.”

  York snorted. “Take what you can get, man. It’s better than unbridled hatred, any day.”

  Don didn’t contradict him; he had a point.

  “Can I come with you?”

  The question made Don hesitate. Bringing York along had not been a part of his plan, but he couldn’t see sending his comrade away. Finally, he nodded. He’d have some explaining to do, but he was fairly certain Tyson would let his wingman’s presence slide.

  When the door to the commons opened, his first reaction was to pause. York took one look at his frown and then leaned over his shoulder to see what the holdup was.

  “Looks a bit empty, man.”

  “So I see,” Don answered blandly and crossed the room to his quarters. He emerged a few minutes later, a note clutched in his hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “A note from my platoon sergeant, telling me what’s going on and what channel they’ll be on if I need to contact him.”

  “He’s an awfully informative one.”

  Don shook his head slightly. “We go way back.” He took another look around the room and then folded the note, sticking it in his uniform.

  “I don’t like this,” York said again.

  “Good news,” Don answered with faked cheerfulness. “You don’t have to like it.”

  I don’t have to like it, he repeated to himself. It was true. Their personal feelings didn’t matter. They were soldiers. All they had do was follow orders.

  On the bright side, Tyson’s note had given him a good idea of what was happening, at least in part. Tyson’s mission and his own were very different from each other, although he had a suspicion that one was a distraction for the other. Beyond that, he wasn’t sure.

  “Come on.” He waved his friend out. “Let’s get going.”

  “Where are we going? Everyone’s gone.”

  “We’ll report in.”

  York gaped at him. “An hour early?”

  Don nodded. “No one was ever hurt by being early. Besides, by the time we get there, it’ll be closer to thirty minutes early. In any case, we can always run a simulation to get warmed up.”

  York rolled his eyes but followed Don out.

  Don’s calculations were right on target. Even so, the additional wait was as frustrating for him as it was for York. By the time they were given the green light to proceed, he was more than ready to begin.

  “Authorization accepted, Specialist O’Hara. Remote viewing and maneuvering capabilities online.”

  Don stretched his fingers and looked around as the walls lit up. The hangar was empty of people, and the hangar door was already open for them.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” he ordered.

  “All right!” York agreed.

  One of the three other Wasps jerked upward. It shot out into the sky, and he could hear York laughing. His earlier reserve for the Wasps had obviously been discarded.

  Don sighed and followed his comrade out in what he hoped was a more smooth takeoff. He looked back for a moment, memorizing the location of the hangar. Not knowing where the fighters were being held had always bothered him a bit. After a few seconds, the hangar was no longer visible, and Don turned his focus to their mission.

  It took longer than he would have expected for him to realize his muscles were tensed. He took a deep breath and consciously ordered them to relax. He checked his speed and adjusted, quickly catching up with York.

  His comrade sighed contentedly. “Ah, I missed this.”

  Don looked to his right, where he knew York sat in his unit, but saw only the landscape whizzing by. He felt no thrill at what he saw, no relief in sitting in the pilot’s seat. He pondered this for a moment. It didn’t take long to understand. Now that he knew what it really felt like, just being able to see the Wasp’s speed was unimpressive.

  “It’s just like a simulator,” he mumbled. There would be no jolt as he changed direction, no hand of gravity pushing him down as he accelerated. I don’t miss this, he realized with a shock. In fact, he wasn’t even sure anymore why he had fallen in love with the Wasps in the first place. Anyone could learn to do this.

  “Settle down,” he ordered.

  “Don’t be such a killjoy, O’Hara!”

  “Prepare for course adjustment,” Don responded, consulting the information he had plotted into the Wasp’s computer before takeoff.

  “Aye, aye,” came the dejected reply.

  They made their first turn in perfect unison. It would be a while before the next one. In the meantime, they flew low to the ground to avoid detection, dodging and
swerving obstacles as they sped toward them. He was painfully aware of the absence of forces pressing against his body. Was this all he would have to look forward to from now on? How disappointing.

  Yet even in his disappointment, he found he could think more clearly. He could process faster. He could act as if the rules of flight did not apply, because for him, they did not. The Wasp could handle it. It was designed for such abuse. And though they had been trained to understand this, only now did he truly comprehend it.

  The ground dropped away beneath them. Don made a swift direction change and plunged into the chasm. York took a little longer, only catching up after a short, “Stick to me,” from Don.

  The first few targets were outposts. They would have one shot to take them out. If their aim was good, the outpost would have no chance to react. The off-planet space fleet was tasked with taking out enemy long-distance communication channels. This would prevent the outposts’ destruction from being noticed. The space between the canyon walls diminished as they pushed forward. Don felt a bead of sweat trickle down his face. It took every ounce of his concentration to avoid a collision.

  “Holy Mother! O’Hara, I nearly bought it! Slow the crap down!”

  “Can’t,” he grunted. “Gotta be going this fast when we pass by the target.”

  “I know what the notes said, but a few TKs slower won’t hurt anything!” York argued. “Whereas, if I crash―”

  “Then I finish the mission on my own,” Don interrupted him. “If we slow down, we’ll get caught in whatever we hit the target with. Haven’t you realized they didn’t load us up with the normal? No way we can take out an outpost in one shot with just the regular.”

  The answer was slow in coming. “Why wouldn’t they tell us?”

  “It doesn’t matter why,” Don snapped. “Just don’t deviate from the plan.” He knew he should be kinder, but this was not the time for second-guessing.

  “Approaching first target,” York informed him.

  “APRIL, ready missile,” he ordered. He didn’t wait to hear his APRIL echo the command before he switched on the autopilot.

  “Autopilot engaged. Warning: continued use deemed hazardous.”

  Don ignored the warning, his full attention now geared on aiming. Five seconds to the target. Four. He waited, trigger half pressed. Three. Two. He blinked. One. There it was. For less than a second he saw it, and processed. His finger had already moved. The missile was gone, and the target was behind them.

  “Autopilot, disengage,” he said quickly and regained control of the Wasp as the shockwave hit. For a moment, he was disoriented while his brain tried to comprehend the difference between what he felt and what he saw. He pushed the struggle aside, righting the Wasp and speeding forward.

  “You still with me?”

  “Aye, I’m here,” York answered and Don noticed a kind of grimness in his tone. “Hell of a good thing we aren’t inside these suckers. I don’t think we’d have made that.”

  Don shook his head and bit back a frustrated answer. York only ever noticed what was right in front of his face. He took a calming breath. “York, the mission would never be possible if we were actually piloting the Wasps. Not at the speeds we’re going and the gees we’re pulling.”

  This effectively silenced York, and Don knew he’d been harsher than he had to be. To be honest, he’d had more annoying wingmen than York. York really wasn’t so bad. Don was just being a snot, and he knew it. Don sighed. He had few enough friends here that losing one because he had a bad attitude was stupid.

  “Please tell me we’re nearing the next target,” he said, attempting an apology in his voice.

  York heard it; his reply was swift and warm. “What? Are you saying you’re not enjoying this? Or are you just eager to be swatted like a bug again?”

  “Swatted like a bug, definitely,” Don affirmed. “All these twists and turns are making me dizzy.”

  “Dizzy?” York laughed. “What kind of a pilot are you?”

  “I’m not a pilot,” Don answered innocently. “Did you forget?”

  York had no chance to reply. His APRIL directed his attention behind him. Drones. Where had they been hiding?

  “I’m on it,” York told him, peeling off and heading for the Zarwean drones. “You take care of that outpost before it becomes a problem.”

  “Got it,” Don answered. It was difficult not to look and see where York had gone, but he needed to focus. There should be a split in the canyon at any moment. He checked his guidance system and barely managed to locate it before he was there.

  The outpost was just beyond the turn. They were expecting him. It didn’t matter. The explosion that followed behind him engulfed their fighters and nearly caught him in its licking flames.

  “Talk to me!” Don shouted, catching himself once more looking to his right, where he knew York’s unit should sit.

  “Easy,” came the answer. “Both drones down, and by the billowing cloud, I’d say you took care of our problem.”

  Don ignored the implied question. “Be careful coming through there. No telling what kind of remodeling that did.”

  “Aye, aye, no worries.”

  He rounded another bend, coming face to face with a second drone cluster. He dodged them, shooting one down on his way but leaving the rest strung out behind him in futile pursuit. “Think we’re getting closer. I just picked up some friends.”

  “Understood. I’ll clean ‘em up on my way to you.”

  Suddenly, Don burst out of the canyon. He could see a vast city below him. Don scanned the area, using his speed to avoid enemy contact as he got his bearings.

  The canyon had opened into what looked like a giant crater. Nearly every inch of it was filled by the complex city. For a moment, Don forgot his mission, completely overwhelmed by what he saw.

  His APRIL woke him from his daze with a warning. Don glanced down and saw a cloud of enemy fighters headed his way. “We're in for some serious company,” he told York. His brain was working furiously, trying to find a way around them. He had to make it as close to the center as he could.

  “Holy Mother!”

  York had arrived. Don spared a glance back. “York, hang a left, go around the edge, and then aim for the middle. You’ll never get through this.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Don pulled his Wasp back, shooting straight up. It was a maneuver they would not expect. The Zarweans knew from experience what the human gravitational flight limitations were. Don could use that against them. A moment of confusion was all Don needed.

  He got it.

  He rose over the fighters and then plummeted toward the city. If they missed him now, they’d destroy the buildings below and their own people with them. They’d have to aim very carefully.

  “How close to the middle do we have to be?” York sounded worried now.

  “As far as you can get,” Don said. He could see a new wave of fighters heading toward him. He checked his back. They were keeping up with him pretty well. “Where are you?”

  “Thirty kilometers from the wall.”

  Don checked his readings. He was nearly at the center, but he knew he wouldn’t make it past this next group. “Close enough,” he told York. “Drop the package.”

  He didn’t wait to hear York’s response but followed his own order. He’d have a minute to make it back to the canyon. Don made a sharp turn, hoping to send the two groups of approaching fighters hurtling into each other.

  He was about to look for York when the landscape disappeared, leaving the inside of the unit dark. “Remote signal terminated,” his APRIL informed him.

  “What?” he asked stupidly.

  A signal beeped. York was trying to contact him. Don accepted it, and York’s image popped up in front of him. He looked just as confused as Don felt.

  “You, too?”

  Don nodded.

  “I thought we were supposed to have a minute!”

  “I guess they lied.”

  York’s ey
ebrows came together sharply. “Why the hell did they bother briefing us at all?”

  “York,” Don said sharply. His comrade’s mouth snapped shut, and Don knew he did not have to continue with the warning.

  “What now?”

  Don shrugged and jumped down from the console. “Let’s go find out.”

  The picture of York blinked out. Don snatched his APRIL and crawled out from the unit. He wasn’t surprised to find that York was not the only one to meet him on the floor. One of the technicians was waiting for them. “Specialists, you are dismissed.”

  “Sorry?”

  Don and York exchanged confused looks. “But the mission―”

  “Please don’t ask me questions. I don’t know any more than you do. This is what I was told.”

  Don nodded. “Thank you, sir. We’ll go now.”

  The technician smiled gratefully, and Don dragged York from the room.

  “But what about the rest of the mission?” York protested.

  “York!” Don exclaimed. “We were dismissed! The mission is over. What else do you want? I don’t know what’s going on, either.”

  York quieted down but continued to stalk beside him. Don’s mind was racing. They needed to find out what was going on. More than that, he wanted to see how the rest of the battle was going. He wanted to hear how the Hell’s Angels were faring.

  “We’ve got to get to the hangars,” he finally said.

  York perked up at this. “Why?”

  “There will be pilots there re-fueling or docking. We can pump them for information.”

  York broke into a jog. “Good plan,” he called back.

  He showed no sign of slowing, and Don found himself matching York’s pace. The closer they got, the more they were forced to dodge medic teams and clusters of other soldiers. They completely passed by a pilot before either of them registered what they saw.

  Don skid to a stop and doubled back. “Pilot!” he called. “Yo, pilot!”

  The man turned; his scornful look was not lost on them. Don did not hesitate. He pulled at the chain around his neck, dragging out his pilot tags. The man’s eyes latched onto them. Scorn turned to confusion.