by Michael Orr
“‘Coolest’?” The AI asked.
“Oh, it’s slang.”
“I understand. If you decide to become my pilot, we will interface and I will be able to learn your brain patterns. Such questions will become rare.”
“Right.” She’d forgotten about the brain interfaces that came with starpiloting. “I’m surprised you already know Global.”
“Your language lexicon was added by the dealer. I will become less formal and awkward with exposure and interfacing. The preprogrammed flight includes a brief slipstream. Is this agreeable?”
“Absolutely!” Trish almost gurgled at the prospect.
The sky darkened, fading into the openness of space. There was no sign of Asherah, but that was to be expected since this dealer was a ways from Wyuki’s main tourist spots. There was plenty of orbital traffic, though.
The ship wound its way through various layers of planetary flotsam and aimed into the openness.
“The nearest planet is Guolm,” the AI told her. “We will arrive there momentarily.”
Space churned, then settled down as the stardrive kicked in. Trish noticed nothing until they exited slipstream and a beautiful green planet leapt into view, eclipsing the space ahead as if by magic.
“I don’t think I’ve ever made such a brief jump.”
“It is purely for demonstration. I am capable of three single-parsec jumps per charge. Smaller jumps can be made in greater number, but my overall range on a single charge is ten lightyears.”
“That’s a lot for a runabout, from what I’ve heard.”
“It is my standard operating envelope. We will make planetfall here so I can demonstrate atmospheric and submerged performance.”
“Sweet!” Trish leaned forward, thrilled to experience planetfall from her own personal cockpit. She remembered the staff yacht’s tantalizing flightdeck when she first left for Asherah, and that same sense of wonder was back. Her belly fizzed at doing this for real.
Guolm’s thick green atmosphere seemed almost fluid as they speared into it, but currents and swirly ink-like clouds whizzed by at blinding speeds.
“How fast’re we going?”
“We are descending at sixteen thousand kilometers per hour.” The ship’s voice was unconcerned.
“Holy COW! Z’at...norrrmal?”
A clear holoview of the area ahead materialized in front of her, providing a real-time image of their flightpath. There was indeed nothing in the way, but their progress was heart-stopping.
“As my pilot, you will be free to select any velocity you wish. I am merely demonstrating my capabilities. This is a thick semi-fluidic atmosphere. In an M-class atmosphere like Wyuki’s we would travel substantially faster. Perhaps twenty-four thousand kph.”
“Jeez!”
There was a noticeable change in the density outside and the ship slowed.
“We will make a wet landing before submerging.”
Trish was captivated by the ship hovering over the green sea and lowering itself into the surface chop. Waves and random spray doused the canopy as Trish adjusted to the awkward rolling. Whenever waves pitched the runabout, slaps and scrapes from inside the cockpit spoke of things not properly secured.
“We’re okay?” She hoped this was nothing out of the ordinary.
“There is no cause for concern. I cannot be damaged by less than extreme arrhythmic surface action, and we would simply dive to avoid such a threat.”
“‘Kay.” Trish braced herself against the motion.
“We are submerging,” the ship announced as green waves washed over the canopy.
Trish held her breath, fully aware how silly it was. But there was no arguing with the survival instinct.
The view outside took on an ethereal quality as light from the surface scattered into a vague, shadowless murk. This time, the flightpath holo appeared without Trish asking. There was nothing ahead, but below them lurked a shallow sea floor riddled with caves. Featureless blobs swam in and out of the openings, reminding her of fish around Earth’s reefs. Sea life apparently acted the same everywhere.
“Can we...?” She stopped herself as the ship aimed for the cave system at a satisfying pace. A minute or two later they faced a cliff pocked with dark entryways. They teemed with colorless things that swam in the viscous fluid by waving their tendrils, looking just like crepe paper blowing in a breeze.
“Can we go in?”
“It would be unwise for the sake of this demonstration. Many caves show signs of instability.”
“Ah.”
“However, we can peer inside.” The ship approached one large opening about seven or eight meters wide and lit up its depths with a powerful spotlight. There was a blinding flash and Trish shielded her eyes as the canopy opaqued to compensate.
“The interior is highly reflective,” the AI reported, dimming the light for less feedback. Inside, the cavern stretched back to a smooth, undulating wall.
“Z’at...?”
“I believe we are facing a life form.”
“That’s aliv–?”
The back wall leapt forward and the cave itself snapped at the ship!
The AI reacted instantly, dodging sideways and back to avoid the mouth.
“Whoa!” Trish clutched her fluttering chest. “Nice moves!”
She caught a glimpse of the thing just before it recoiled into its lair...like a ginormous blunt-nosed eel with peeled green banana skins flowing down its length instead of scales. The mouth opening, which doubled as a cave, was one big chopper.
Pretty effective if ya don’t wanna bother with teeth, she noted.
“It would be counterproductive to incur damage during the demonstration,” the AI explained.
“Or pretty much anytime, really,” Trish agreed.
“There will be no further attacks. I have activated my bioshields.”
“Bioshields?”
“An electrosensory defense perimeter extending five meters from my hull.”
“A shock field?”
“That is one effect. Others include nervous system shutdown, or electrical failure in the event of a mechanized threat.”
“Handy. Does it know the difference between a threat and the pilot?”
“It is a targeted defense, operating per my own situational awareness. As my pilot, you would be unaffected.”
“That’s seriously cool.”
“Are you prepared to return to Wyuki?”
“Um, yeah.” Trish had lost track of time. “We prob’ly should.”
The Wyukin made his way back from the domed complex as Trish and ship took up their original spot in the sales line. Trish was buzzing from the twenty-five minute demo and had long since let the staff shuttle off the hook.
“Sexy?” The Wyukin met the ear-to-ear grin of his newest buyer.
It took a while to register the ship in Trish’s name, and it would be several days before all Alliance databanks would be updated with her ownership. And then there was the matter of interfacing.
The two-way procedure involved real-time brain monitoring through the ship’s built-in UI. Trish learned as much about the ship’s way of operating as it did about her thought patterns. In flight, she would be aware of the ship’s capabilities almost as if it were an extension of her own body. The ship, meanwhile, was calibrated to anticipate her actions. It wasn’t actual symbiosis, but it beat the heck out of simply clutching a joystick.
She thought about a name for the runabout, but nothing came to mind. And as yet, the AI seemed unconcerned.
After two more hours of prelims she was finally free to ferry up to Asherah. Without her license, Trish could only be a passenger while the AI handled the flight, but it was enough just to sit in her own cockpit as the procedure unfolded.
By the time she settled on her designated pad in Asherah’s cavernous hangar, she’d never been more certain about anything in her life.
39
* * *
CRUSADER NINE – ALLIANCE SPACE – OCT
20, 2371
#This’z Harlowe.# Nine’s omnicom exploded with the dour notes of its captain’s voice.
#Almost two decades ago, the higher power we place our faith in came under attack. Not by weapons of war, but by weapons of thought. Weapons of persuasion. And because our world — our kind — is smothered in darkness, those weapons prevailed. Apostasy has overtaken the human race, and we’ve come out here, out into the Almighty’s own domain, to ensure that we fallen children remain where the Almighty sees fit t’put us.
#We are failing Him.
#When I took command of this ship, I understood that I was being called to lead God’s champion. And yet, we’ve done nothing more than our peers.
#God deserves better...a champion worthy of the role.
#And now, after so long, we have our opportunity! We’ve discovered God’s hidden enemy, and our righteousness will cleanse His realm.#
There was a pause. Then, the stern sound of Nine’s cultural authority broke through the air.
Loni winced automatically at the thought of Surryah.
#You all recognize my voice. Some of you have even taken it upon yourselves to exalt me above our captain.
#The flames of your fury at what’s been done to our lord and what’s been done to we who believe makes you impatient. We understand. We, too, have been impatient as we awaited a sign.
#But now we have it. We know our target and what to do. Harness your impatience, brothers. Sisters. Harness it and stoke its flames. Soon...very soon...those flames will have the fuel they crave and we’ll all become worthy champions for the Almighty. Soon, this crusade — this pure and righteous jihad — will redeem us. May God be appeased. Allelujah!#
Shouts of ‘Hallelujah!’ echoed down the corridor as Loni clung to its shadows. What manner of mayhem were these lunatics planning now?
ESS ASHERAH – ALLIANCE SPACE – OCT 22, 2371
“Ohhhh...MYGAWD.” Trish threw back her head. “I hate this!”
“Whaaat?” Amber didn’t bother looking over.
“Navigation. It’s...it’s...all TRIG!”
“Triiiig...” Amber searched the ethers for a clue.
Trish stared at her: “–onometry?”
“Dooh doooooh, duh dooh dooh,” her friend sang.
“I need a break.” Trish got up and disappeared into her closet. “Check it...” She emerged with her new flightsuit, holding it up proudly. “Aaay...?!” she prompted, retreating back to the closet to put it on.
When she stepped out again, her transformation into hi-tech, high-fashion pilot was striking. The sleek white-with-smudgy-gray fabric dramatically enhanced her startling figure.
“That’s AWESOME!” Amber gushed.
“s’Like paint.” Trish smoothed her hands over the nanofiber protection. “I’ve never worn anything so form-fitting in my life. I know this sounds stupid, but it’s one’a the things that got me inta runabouts in the first place. I had ta have an excuse t’wear one!”
“You’re putting yourself through this...” Amber aimed at the navigation course floating above Trish’s bed, “for a fashion fix?”
“Well, s’not the only reason...but it’s a plus.”
Amber side-eyed her. “You are such a girl.”
EFS ARCTICA – ALLIANCE SPACE – OCT 24, 2371
Life aboard Arctica had grown agonizingly lonely now that Jerrett had another secret to keep. He had to admit, it was a fascinating intellectual exercise to view twenty-fourth century life through a twenty-first century lens and make real-world comparisons. But each observation he made, no matter how intriguing, had to be kept to himself while he tended to duty.
His disciplined mind had little trouble mastering the disorientation from two perspectives, but he’d never felt this alone and disconnected in his life.
And then there was the continuous nag of unfinished business. Memories from the abyss kept Trish ever-present in his thoughts...no ‘off’ switch. Part of him remembered her as the tongue-tied blonde girl at the beach and the rest of him knew her as the dazzling star of the Zodiac Lounge — the one he’d spent a raging night with.
He winced at his handling of the aftermath, wondering if she’d ever forgive him.
Will we even cross paths again?
He gazed out at the light-bathed Alnilam neighborhood, tracing the close-in movements of a frigate escort as it shadowed Arctica. It occurred to his Jay self that this was extraordinarily close to “attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion”...only without the fire.
“My god...this’z real. The human race has actually made it into space. Not in an ‘astronaut’ way, but real Star Trek-Babylon 5 galactic space. And I live there!”
Such ‘wow’ moments were frequent, and Jerrett had to guard himself against losing his train of thought when he was on duty. But it was getting easier.
He closed his eyes and summoned memories of Southern California, riding his GSX-R down PCH.
“Not good,” he warned, as images of Anita photo-bombed the frame. If she was his Scylla, didn’t a Charybdis have to be lurking somewhere?
ESS ASHERAH – ALLIANCE SPACE – NOV 2, 2371
Sitting in her own cockpit for the first time as a pilot candidate was daunting. Trish had been studying since her fourth cruise — ever since Fey agreed to buy her a runabout — and now her brain was cluttered. Navigation, standard piloting practices, right-of-way traffic patterns, landing and docking procedures, proper comming verbiage, legal requirements in both Terran and Alliance jurisdictions... these and scores of other things jangled around in her head.
But now, buckled into her chariot to the heavens, she quieted her mind and put away the head knowledge. This was her first chance in a month to ‘do’ rather than ‘think’.
She allowed herself a moment to really settle into the cockpit, feeling the seat’s plush cushions cradle her pressure points. Gazed at the glowing trapezoidal holo-display...its bright blues and greens not so much a tool as artwork. Checked the status gauges placed at convenient intervals on the dash for instant visibility. Took in the view through the canopy that sloped downward just in front of her, with its unobstructed forward view and 270-degree field of vision.
Within comfortable reach were the dual grips of the yoke that contoured nicely to her hands, and the spacious footwell that allowed her legs to do whatever they liked even with supplies and extra gear stowed away. It was a compact cockpit, but there was no sense of being cramped. Everything was well thought-out and gave the undeniable impression that this was an ultra-performance vehicle designed for the extreme. It might not have looked like it from the outside, but no pilot would have any doubts.
I love this, she told herself for the umpteenth time, taking a breath. “Asherah Actual, this is Aerion One requesting permission to depart.”
“Standby, Aerion One,” responded someone other than Saia.
She waited...and finally, her moment came.
With the caution of a cat lifting its kitten by the neck, she lofted her very own ship off the pad. It floated upward, light and buoyant like a ping-pong ball floating on a stream of air.
She throttled up ever so slightly and the ship nosed out onto its lighted path.
She was gliding through the hangar on her own for the very first time, now eye-level with the tops of gleaming golden staff shuttles that lined her path. Then she was through the access port and into the immense landing bay, drifting above the huge passenger launches and smaller personal craft awaiting their day.
In front of her loomed the gaping exit to open space. The stars beyond, ordinarily so beckoning, now presented a terrifying prospect. She was about to cast herself into the Deep under her own recognizance.
“Your heart rate and adrenalin are spiking, Trish,” came the calm voice of her newly-christened AI. “There’s no need to be anxious. I’m ready to assist if you have difficulties.”
“Comforting, Aerion. But I’m tryin’ not ta make mistakes, ya know? I’d actually like ta pass my quals?”
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She drifted through the brief static of Asherah’s environmental shields and out into the void, eyes on her panel’s scope. There was no time to celebrate. This practice flight involved a series of drills to simulate ordinary traffic scenarios.
Her scope was instantly alive with targets and she had to fit herself into the pattern with as little fuss as possible. It took three lurching, jolting tries to get anything close to correct, and the effort left her jittery enough to call it a day.
“You look beat ta death.” Saia plopped down in Trish’s guest chair.
“I’m a flying calamity.”
“That bad?”
Trish sent her a faceful of humiliation. “What, ya haven’t been lookin’ in on my progress?”
“I do have a job, ya know.” Saia teased, all encouragement. “But I can.”
“Aerionnn...” She tapped into her screem and searched for the flight records. “Okay.”
The two of them huddled over the screem as a tactical display ran through a record of the flight.
“Oooooh...” Saia winced, watching Aerion’s red blip disperse the organized traffic pattern. Then, “Oh!” as the second try created an all new c-fuck.
Trish slunk down in her pillows.
“Well that worked,” Saia said at the third try.
“Okay?” Trish reached for the dangling carrot.
“Yeah. I’ve had ta deal with worse. The trick is to merge without forcing anyone else t’change what they’re doing. Think of the space you wanna occupy as a ship in its own right. You match it ’n take over its position.”
“Oh,” Trish mumbled, having never thought of it like that.
“The pattern’s always the hard part,” Saia promised. “Once yer past that, s’nothin’. Ya just fly.”
“Says the desk jockey.” Trish frowned.
“Hey, I monitor this stuff all day long. All night, actually. But believe me, there’s a flow. z’Long as you know how ta merge, the rest is just point ’n shoot.”
After some ego triage and catching up on whatever else was going on in the world outside her tunnel vision, Trish decided to skip all further shore excursions and keep a schedule of two sessions per day. At that rate she’d have a chance of being ready for the qualification flight before Asherah left Betelgeuse, their second-to-last stop before home. If she couldn’t do it by Bellatrix, she’d either have to apply for the qual flight back on Earth or wait for her next cruise. And that would mean weeks of sitting on pins and needles just to pick back up where she was right now.
