by Terry Mixon
Zia focused on the preflight. Her implants provided the checklist and could even expand on what she should be seeing, so it didn’t take long.
Vitter stood back watching. She was already dressed in her bulky flight suit. Zia would need to change before they launched.
“I’ll go gear up,” Zia said once she was satisfied with the external preflight.
“Locker A-1 is reserved for you, ma’am. It’ll always have your gear ready to roll.”
She smiled a little. “I’m afraid my job is on the command deck, Annette. Sending you people to do what you do best.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a place here. My people respect you.”
That meant a lot to Zia. She knew that once they got into the thick of it, all too many of her pilots wouldn’t be coming back. It was dangerous work.
“Not any more than I respect them. I’ll be right back.”
Zia went into the ready room and waved at the on duty pilots. They were all dressed to launch at a moment’s notice, but were engaged in everything from sleeping to watching entertainment vids to playing poker.
Those who were awake called out greetings as she made her way to the adjacent compartment with the lockers. She quickly stripped off her uniform and pulled on an under suit. It would keep her alive if all else failed. Princess Kelsey had proven that with the one she wore under her armor at Boxer Station.
Once she had the snug under suit on, she climbed into the bulky flight suit and arrayed her survival gear. The more capable equipment would allow her to survive for up to a day if everything went south. A beacon on her hip would lead CSAR to her or any other pilot who successfully ejected from a crippled fighter.
Not that doing so was standard practice, regardless of what Admiral Mertz had done. The deadly little craft could keep a pilot breathing for a week, just based on the emergency supplies it carried. They’d only bail if it were in danger of exploding.
Her helmet was sleek and aggressive in styling. That fit the mentality of the people attracted to the job. Hotshots, each and every one of them.
They’d decorated her helmet with all three squadron emblems, which filled her with pride. The rear of a pilot’s helmet usually only had their own squadron’s badge. They had arranged hers in a diamond with Audacious’s emblem sitting on top.
She headed back out only to run into a pair of the ready pilots. They checked her gear over matter-of-factly. Part of her felt like objecting, but she knew they’d do the same for one another.
“Thanks, boys,” she said once they finished. “Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”
Their leader grinned. “Who? Us? Have a good flight, Captain.”
Vitter was standing next to one of the ready fighters when Zia came out. “Your call sign for this flight is Black Jack One, Captain. I’m Black Jack Six.”
Zia nodded. “Got it.”
She climbed into her fighter. It only took a moment to bring everything online via her implants and she got down to the task of checking every system.
Once she was ready, she opened a channel to Vitter. “Black Jack Six, this is Black Jack One. Ready for launch.”
“Copy that, Black Jack One. Contact flight operations and launch when ready.”
Zia opened a channel to them. “Flight operations, this is Black Jack One requesting a launch window.”
“Copy that, Black Jack One,” Lieutenant Leo Thomas said. “You are cleared to launch at your discretion.”
“Thanks Control. Black Jack One out.”
She sent the command to the magnetic catapult her fighter rested on. It came to life and hurled her down the short tunnel and out of the ship with brutal force, pressing her deeply back into her acceleration couch.
Once clear of the ship, she brought her drive online and it instantly cut the perceived acceleration down to something bearable.
Moments later, Vitter’s fighter appeared off to port. She could see the woman looking at her through her canopy. “Good launch, Black Jack One. Let’s put you through your paces. I hope you studied all the maneuvers carefully, because I’m a stickler for detail.”
Over the next two hours, Vitter taxed Zia’s memory, skills, and endurance. They went through virtually every scenario a fighter pilot needed to perform. Everything except an ejection. That was a bit traumatic for the little craft.
“That’s a wrap, Black Jack One,” Vitter finally said. “You need to work on a few things, but overall, I’m satisfied with your progress. You’re still a greenhorn, but you’ll do in a pinch.”
Damned with faint praise. Zia smiled. She really was on the low-end skill wise, and she knew it.
“I’ll take it, for now, but I’m going to keep practicing.”
“Roger that. Contact control and take us in,” Vitter said. You’ll only have an hour to get cleaned up and onto that fancy bridge of yours before all the lazybones are up.”
Zia called Audacious’s flight operations and got them a return vector. They positively dawdled back to the ship. Once they were in the area, Control gave her priority over a passenger cutter inbound for landing.
Unlike most ships, all small ships used the carrier’s flight decks rather than isolated docks.
The landing priority apparently didn’t sit too well with the cutter pilot. She could hear him arguing with control. He claimed to have a senior officer on board.
Control called Zia. “Black Jack One, this is Control. The inbound cutter is requesting priority in the landing queue. Are you okay with coming around again?”
“Negative Control. Black Jack flight will land first.”
“Copy that, Black Jack One.”
The other pilot shut up once he acknowledged Control’s instructions, but Zia imagined he was pissed. Too bad.
Zia led the way in and put the fighter neatly down in the designated area. Vitter landed beside her.
The cutter took a spot just up the deck and the passenger hatch opened as soon as it settled. A large man with wide shoulders and a grim expression exited and headed right for the fighters.
Well, this should be interesting.
She opened her canopy and shut the fighter down before climbing out. The man was waiting impatiently below her. His rank tabs indicated he was a commander.
“What the hell was that? Didn’t you hear my pilot say there was a senior officer on board?”
Zia held out a hand, cutting Vitter’s hot response off. “I heard you just fine, Commander. This is a carrier. Fighter operations always have priority.”
“Helmet off, pilot. When I’m chewing ass, I want to see who I’m talking to.”
That really tanned Zia’s hide. She had a volatile temper, when she allowed it to rear its ugly head, and this guy was pushing her buttons.
She popped her helmet off and held it in the crook of her arm. She ran a hand through her hair to get it into some semblance of order.
The man glared down at her. “I realize you people think you’re all that and a bag of crisps, but the universe doesn’t revolve around you. What’s your name?”
“Anderson. Call sign Black Jack One.”
“Well, Anderson, you’d better be glad I don’t have time to deal with you right now. You can be sure that once I’ve reported to the captain, we’ll have another discussion that you won’t enjoy nearly as much as this one.”
Zia frowned. She hadn’t been expecting anyone coming to see her.
“And why would that be, Commander?” she asked.
He smiled a bit smugly. “Because I’m your new executive officer. I don’t know how you people have been doing things, but they’ll be by the book going forward. Expect my call, Anderson.”
He turned on a heel before she could respond, and headed for the lift.
Vitter stepped up beside her. “Why didn’t you tell him you were the captain, ma’am?”
“Because it’ll have a bigger impact if I let him find out the hard way. He wanted to make a point by browbeating me, so now he gets to get the same kin
d of treatment.
“I’m a bit concerned that I didn’t hear about this ahead of time. I knew Commander Leonidas was going to receive his own command, but I thought he had another week.”
The other woman smiled knowingly. “The ways of the personnel branch are obscure, ma’am. You know what I think? That if I had orders to a new ship, I’d make sure an at least know what my commanding officer looked like.”
“That’s because you’re a prudent and thoughtful officer. I can see this new guy is going to have a rough time adjusting to how we do business. I should go get cleaned up and get this over with.”
Zia called her steward while she stripped her gear off and told him to stall the man. She took a quick shower, dressed in her uniform, and headed back into the ready room.
She stopped in her tracks as soon as she came in. It looked as though every fighter pilot on the ship was there.
Commander Vitter stood in front with a wicked smile on her face. “Captain Zia Anderson, you have met all of the qualifications to be a fighter pilot in Fleet. It is my pleasure to welcome you to our ranks, but my sad duty to inform you there is yet one more burden to be borne. Attention on the flight deck!”
Every person in the room stiffened, including Zia. She still wasn’t completely used to being a senior officer, and a commander still felt like a superior to the lieutenant inside her.
“The fighter corps has a tradition when welcoming people to its ranks that goes back to before humanity ever left the surface of Terra,” Vitter said conversationally. “One that left a mark on all who accepted our deadly burden. Captain Zia Anderson, are you willing to shed blood for your brothers and sisters? To suffer pain for them?”
That was an easy one. “I am.”
“Then open your tunic.”
That was an odd thing to do, but Zia opened the top of her uniform tunic, exposing her undershirt.
“Once pilots wore wings of metal on their uniforms, not patches sealed into place,” the pilot said. “That meant that our wings had bite.”
She held up a set of metal wings with two long spikes in the back. Zia suddenly knew what was coming.
“Each and every pilot on this ship has shed their blood with these very wings to join our ranks. Your nanites might heal the wounds quickly, but the pain and symbolism mean a great deal to us.”
The woman placed the wings on Zia’s upper left chest and used the heel of her fist to pound it into her captain’s flesh.
The spike of pain was immediate and intense, but Zia gritted her teeth and made no sound. She kept her expression neutral though her chest was on fire.
Vitter waited a beat and pulled the spikes back out. Another pilot stepped forward with a swab and tugged the under tunic aside long enough to wipe away the blood. He applied two dabs of medical sealer to the aching wounds and stepped back.
“Pilots, I give you our newest sister!” Vitter said.
Everyone shouted raucously and crowded around Zia, pounding her on the back and shaking her hand. It was such a powerful moment that it took everything Zia had not to cry, but she averted that catastrophe. Barely.
Once all the pilots had left, except the ready crew, Vitter shook Zia’s hand. “We’re glad to have you in our ranks, Captain. We know you’ll make us proud.”
“That was barbaric, but damned powerful.”
The other woman laughed. “We’re warriors, ma’am. We spill blood for a living. The marines have nothing on us.”
Zia couldn’t help smiling in return. “Well, I suppose I’d better get upstairs and shed some blood of my own.”
She left the flight deck energized. This had been one of those moments that changed people’s lives forever, and she’d never forget it. Now she had to go try to inoculate the new guy with the same bug, as difficult as that seemed to imagine at the moment.
* * * * *
Annette watched her commanding officer walk out with more than a dash of pride. The former tactical officer was shaping up into a fine leader. She still had some growing to do, but that was true for all of them. Particularly herself.
Her assistant squadron commander, Lieutenant Commander Jake Fiennes, stepped up beside her. “She’s a good one.”
“I was just thinking that. I’m wondering how she’ll handle the new guy. They didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.”
He snorted. “You think? Well, he’ll either adjust or get rolled.”
She gave him a raised eyebrow. “That isn’t the way to think about our new executive officer. I know all fighter pilots are wild cards, but there are limits to the meme. Whatever his personality, we’re going to have to work under his orders.”
Jake seemed to consider that for a moment, and then nodded. “I suppose so. The captain will set the tone, but he’s going to do what he does. We have to make sure our boys and girls don’t raise too big a stink.”
“Good man. How are the deployment plans coming?”
She’d tasked him and the other squadron commanders to devise an attack plan for a fleet action. Fighter deployment was new to all of them and she wanted to have a number of primary, backup, contingency, and emergency plans worked out and practiced ahead of when they needed them.
The notion that people rose up to meet a crisis was wrong. They defaulted to what they’d trained to do. She didn’t want her people to practice until they got it right. She wanted them to be so skilled that they couldn’t get it wrong.
“We have a number of basic strategies worked out,” he said as they walked into her office. “Audacious’s computer had all the plans the previous squadron commanders worked up for various scenarios. We kept that framework in place and broke them down even further so we can practice the basic skills they already had down pat.
“The training we’ve already gotten will slot into the new plans easily enough. Once we get on station, we can launch training flights to stitch everything together. It’ll take years before we’re as smooth as they probably were, but we can be effective much sooner than that.”
She nodded. “That works. I’ll want to see a preliminary training schedule this afternoon. I’ll have my comments back to you as soon as I can to refine what you have. After the training run, of course.”
“Roger that. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get the squadron ready to launch.”
Annette sat behind her desk as soon as he’d left and brought up the Fleet records on Brandon Levy.
Last assigned as the commanding officer on a heavy cruiser. He’d also commanded a destroyer a few years back.
She couldn’t access the sensitive parts of his record, but the theme was there for anyone who looked. Levy was a competent officer with solid skills. He’d have a much better grasp of running a ship than Zia Anderson, even though Annette thought the other woman was doing fine.
The new guy would have two strikes against him. First, his attitude. Second, he didn’t understand the new technology. Not that the rest of them were as far along as they needed to be, but he’d have more ground to cover. Not just skill-wise, but conceptually. Understanding that something was even possible gave one a leg up.
Or an arm.
She held up her artificial arm. The technological marvel still astounded her. When she’d lost it, she’d known her career was over. She’d become a cripple. Someone to be pitied.
Only that wasn’t how things had turned out. The doctors in the command post on Erorsi had the full knowhow of the Old Empire at their fingertips. They couldn’t build a sophisticated arm like this one with their limited facilities, but they’d laid the groundwork.
The doctors on Harrison’s World had built her arm with her piloting in mind. The rehabilitation hadn’t been easy, but she came into it determined to regain everything she’d lost.
Months of blood, sweat, and tears had paid off. It was almost as natural as her real arm had been now. She could perform any task she needed to with as much finesse and dexterity as any uninjured person.
Annette knew she’d have to help the
new guy if they were to avoid a nasty situation where he didn’t grow the way he needed to. The fighter pilots under her command were vulnerable to someone that didn’t truly understand their purpose. She’d have to make sure the new guy didn’t dismiss them out of hand or file them away as glorified cutter pilots.
Unfortunately, it certainly seemed as though Brandon Levy had already put them in that mental space. Tomorrow, she’d make his acquaintance. She’d be a friendly face and make sure he assimilated. That way she could shape his views before they became a problem.
Well, she could worry about him after the training flight. He wasn’t going anywhere. She rose to her feet and headed for the ready room.
Chapter Three
Kelsey arrived at Senator Breckenridge’s home a few minutes early, but close enough to be considered punctual. There was an art to arriving to dinner parties that was a bit hard to understand for the uninitiated. It wasn’t all about being fashionably late.
Frankly, she’d rather have examined the Imperial Scepter, but with Carl and Angela off on their getaway, it wouldn’t have mattered. Only someone with his level of technical expertise could even hope to make head or tail out of something as complex as it probably was.
She’d decided not to tell her father until they had at least a little information. After all, any discovery had already waited half a millennium for them to find. I could hold for a few more days.
The senator’s palatial home seemed a little deserted to be hosting a dinner party. She’d have expected there to be guests already in the landing area or on the balcony overlooking it. The lights were on, and there were uniformed Senatorial Guards there, but no guests.
God, she hoped she hadn’t misremembered the time. Or the date.
She checked her implants as they landed. No, right on time. Something else was going on.
The Imperial Guard formed a cordon around the air car as she exited. There wasn’t any visible tension between them and their senatorial counterparts. They’d no doubt worked together before and coordinated her arrival.
The door to the house opened and Senator Breckenridge came out with a smile on his face. “Welcome to my home, Highness.”
