A nod and a hug was his answer.
The embrace lasted the better part of a minute, a comfortable eternity for them both until she drew back and he let her go.
In one smooth motion she picked up her cup and took a drink of tea, it was still a little too hot but kept her eyes from welling up. She put the mug down again and cleared her throat. “If we can't get through this after a couple dozen firefights, then there's something seriously wrong.”
Jake smiled at her and squeezed her free hand. “I have something for you,”
Her eyes widened as he pulled a silvered chain strung through a fortified, rounded gold chip out of his deep coat pocket.
He opened her hand and pressed it into her palm. “Of everyone on the Samson crew I trust you the most. I found this in Wheeler's quarters, in his safe. It's the override code chip for the Triton. I need you to watch things. You'll know if and when you have to use it.”
“But I thought the command security systems were all vocal and biometric.”
“This is the override chip made to reset the systems in case the ship is captured and hacked. Wheeler never got a chance to use it. All you have to do is get to a secure terminal, pop the interface plate open and put it in. After that you can tell the ship to make you the commander and it'll take your biometric scan and whatever passwords you give it. You're already in the system as a senior officer so it makes things even easier.”
She looked down at the chip for a moment then put the chain around her neck, opened her vacsuit enough to drop the chip itself down the front and settle the chain under her collar before
closing up again. It was hidden under her uniform, no one would see it. “ Triton'll be here when you get back, don't worry Jake,” she said quietly. “So will I.”
He nodded and turned away, crossing the distance between her and the door in long strides.
Arrival and Departure
Over the entire black and crimson vacsuit were stretched flexible two centimetre horizontal emitter blades. They fit to form but made Captain Valance feel like he wore something with more substance than the old vacsuits nonetheless. There was a black long coat set up with the same systems and extra armour as well, and as he took the lift down he ran through the systems checklist. The new display system actually projected images to the brain through nerve manipulation, routing information through different parts of his nervous system so they were collected and understood as colour images. There were no cybernetics involved and the technology was only a few years old, refined by Freeground Special Projects. He knew Laura was breaking laws by sharing it and several other technologies added to the command vacsuits, but it was fairly apparent that she didn't care.
Other crewmembers in the lift looked at him quietly, he pretended not to notice. He hoped everyone would have a similarly featured suit eventually. Perhaps not with all the improvements, but there was a great deal of life saving technology that would be useful to most of the crew under dire circumstances.
The lift arrived in Hangar two and he caught sight of Ashley and Stephanie. He shouldn't have been surprised that Stephanie had taken a lift down to the hanger deck to meet her best friend while he was getting familiar with the new command vacsuits. He still held back so he could listen in on their conversation before he was noticed.
“How did it go?” Stephanie asked, looking at the Cold Reaver wide eyed.
“Pretty well, easiest breakup ever.” Ashley replied with a shrug. “Finn isn't the dramatic type.”
“No, with the recruitment run! It looks like you tore half the front end off the ship,” Stephanie exclaimed, shaking her head, arms spread wide to encompass the view of the shredded front end of the ship.
Captain Valance quietly strode around the pile of crates and saw the condition of the Cold Reaver. The front landing gear, debarkation ramp, one rocket launcher, the long range sensor package, two small emergency escape pods as well as a large section of the fore port hull were torn to shreds. The nose had taken substantial damage as well, but its thicker armour had prevented full on decompression.
“Your boy Leland nearly blew the front of the ship off when he fired our entire load of missiles at once.” Ashley replied, gesturing over her shoulder to where Leland March, the wiry security team member was overseeing the unloading of a number of new recruits. Several dozen were already lined up on the deck, their satchels and luggage in front of them. Most of them didn't have many possessions with them, which was the norm.
“Why did you put him at tactical?” Stephanie asked more quietly.
Captain Valance leaned up against the three meter high stack of secured crates and continued to listen in on the exchange. Ashley caught sight of him and started to turn red. “Yates didn't show in time for departure and Leland's file says he's qualified for tactical.”
Stephanie checked and nodded. “You're right. I don't remember screening him. Don't worry, it's not the first time he's screwed up. I'll take care of it, assign him to the quartermaster for inventory until he requalifies on all things security.”
“Sounds like a good idea. In the meantime you might want to put someone else in charge of the new hires.” Captain Valance said, walking towards the pair.
“You mean recruits, don't you Captain?” Ashley asked with a wry grin. She knew she wouldn't be unfairly treated for the damage to the Cold Reaver, though she still looked nervous.
“Right. What took a bite out of the Reaver?” he asked as he took another look at the large gunship.
“Eden Fleet hit the planet just as we were getting ready to go. Finn's doing the damage assessment. He says it's going to be out of commission for at least a few days, most likely more unless the whole deck crew gets on it.”
“More like a month! Next time try landing it ass first! You might not hit every critical system on your way in!” Paula shouted from across the deck from where she was checking one of the engines.
“And it had to happen while Paula's on deck.” Ashley said, shaking her head. “She started screaming before I touched down.”
Captain Valance couldn't help but laugh. “It took me a while to understand, but Angelo's quality control, Paula's the one who keeps things on schedule. Still, there's something to learn from this. We need someone to take control of the SSG, start screening mission crew so we have a good rotation of officers for the Reaver and the Samson.”
“I'll start making that a priority,” Stephanie nodded. “Security aboard ship is under control for the moment and I'm sure Frost would be fine with qualifying a few people for tactical.”
“I'll give you a list of the pilots I've screened,” Ashley added. “Is it true that the Samson's almost ready Captain?”
“Should be all set for a shakedown. I never thought I'd get the chance to see her in such good condition, or with the improvements I had planned, but then I didn't expect to be Captain on a close combat carrier either.”
“Good point. By the way, where did the threads come from?” Ashley asked, pulling the thick material on the arm of his long coat.
“There are suits ready for both of you in the materialization compartment. Only for senior officers. A little something Laura and I put together.”
“Can't wait,” Ashley said as she started for the lift.
“Captain, your ride's ready whenever you are.” Paula called out, gesturing to an open hatchway in the floor beside the wall of the hangar. The passages were made for several pilots to climb down at a time, it led to a sub-deck for managing and loading fighters into drop chutes, where fighters were launched from the ventral side of the ship.
“I want to see that ship looking brand new by the time I get back. Get the whole deck on it if you have to,” he ordered, pointing to the Cold Reaver.
“Like new, my ass! We'd have to start rebuilding using ergranian on that kind of schedule.”
“The reactors are generating ergranian, go ahead and get some from Liam. Add the Triton's stealth treatment to its hull while you're at it.”
&nb
sp; Paula didn't reply, she just threw up her hands and continued her inspection.
“Heading out Captain?” Ashley asked as she turned back to him.
He unslung a survival package hanging from the inside rear of his long coat and held it in his hand. It included emergency power cells, food, water, a compressed bed roll, an extra medical kit and several other critical items. “Just going for a ride, picking up a few wayward crew members.”
“I'd give my next leave to go along,” Ashley begged.
“Sorry Ash, I'm taking this one solo.”
“Good hunting sir,” Stephanie wished him. “Are you sure I can't convince you to take an escort?”
“What could go wrong?” Jake grinned wryly as he took the open lift down.
“Good hunting,” Ashley added.
The lift plate lowered Jake into one of the small airlocks reserved for pilots entering the pre-launch area. The gravity lessened by three quarters and as soon as he sealed his vacsuit the air was evacuated from the small compartment. The hatchway opened and he pushed off, bounding down the catwalk past empty sockets for fighters and small gunships. He stopped at the socket marked with his new call sign; Hitman and looked behind him in time to see his Uriel fighter being drawn along the ceiling. “We loaded her up like you requested.” Chief Angelo Vercelli told him over his communicator as the fighter was turned so its nose was pointed towards its socket and the punter launch doors.
Jake looked the bottom of the black and crimson fighter over carefully, pulled on the four engine pods he could reach and checked the cargo hatches along the bottom. “Two racks of scrambler missiles, a pair of turreted particle guns and two pulse cannons with a wormhole kit, extra fusion reactor and a rescue compartment,” Jake verified as he received the loadout information on his command and control unit. The fighter was turned around so he could inspect it from the top and the canopy opened.
“That's right. Still can't believe the Sol Defence folks have this listed as a fighter. She's a small gunship. How did you do on the qualifier, if you don't mind me asking sir?”
Jake couldn't help but chuckle as he double checked the nose armour. “You know you're supposed to check that when a pilot takes their first flight.”
“Aye, but being the Captain…”
“Well, keep this to yourself but I had to go through the primary qualifier twice. I failed the first time because I didn't bother taking the tutorials or practising in a sim. Thought just because I could fly the Samson and most other standard birds I'd be fine to pass in one of these.”
“That's a lesson most of the pilots are learning. Just goes to show, Sol Def does things differently.”
“And so do we,” Jake replied. Satisfied that his fighter was ready and in good order, he took hold of the handle in the cockpit's upper seat and pulled himself inside. “Looks like everything checks out.”
“I'd hope so, you should have seen the care people put into her when they found out that this was going to be your personal bird.”
Jake closed the canopy and settled into the seat, watching the systems come online and begin their own internal check. “I hope they work just as hard on every one. Last thing I want to see are pilots dying because someone missed a bolt.”
“Don't worry. Fabrication is doing better every day. If you can get us some heavy scrap we'll have a full squadron of varied role fighters in six weeks, maybe less if we can find more people to work down there.”
“I'm just glad we have more pilots than we do fighters. Keep them training together while I'm away, I want them to feel right at home by the time they sit in one of these for the first time.”
“Don't worry, I've dealt with green fighter jocks. Between me and everyone else pushing these people they'll be a fighting squadron like you've never seen before you know it.”
The automated calibration systems checked his body type, eye line and within moments the fighter was ready to react to his actions through the manual flight controls, eye movements and general body motions. Older fighters had pedals, extra hand controls and even neural links. While Sol System Defence combat vessels had all but the neural links, the control systems could be calibrated to respond to more subtle movements, and getting used to having that kind of control, to maintaining that kind of discipline took time and patience. While a pedal and flight stick movement may send the fighter rolling to the side, the turn of the pilot's head and shift of his shoulders could aim the guns, designate a missile target and get lesser utilized engine pods turned in the right direction for the next manoeuvre. At the same time the systems in the cockpit could also determine the difference between a head motion meant to change the focus of the weapons suite and one that was the result of a sneeze.
The cockpit formed to him and jacked into his vacsuit as the clamps lowered the fighter into its punter socket. Emergency ejection systems sealed onto his boots, waist and shoulders, also providing firm anchoring restraints so he wouldn't jostle around in the cockpit as he manoeuvred. He watched as the thick armoured launch doors in front of him were quickly drawn inside and moved to the left and right. The bright nebula outside bathed the nose of the fighter and the empty seat just below and in front in golden light. I wish Minh were here. He'd probably spend so much time in the cockpit that we'd never see him aboard Triton, but I'm sure he'd be in his glory.
Jake regained his focus and ran through the systems check as he had done in several tutorials and simulations over the weeks he had given the crew to train, knowing that at the very least Deck Chief Angelo Vercelli was listening. Other officers who had access to Flight Deck Control may have been eavesdropping and watching as well, and when he was sure everything was in order he contacted Flight Control. “Ready for launch.”
“Everything checks out fine on our end, Captain. Good hunting. Punting in five, four, three, two, one.”
As the fighter was ejected nose first out of the bottom of the ship, Jake was thankful for the inertial dampeners, keeping him from being crushed into his seat too hard. In under two seconds he was five kilometres away from the Triton and he gently turned his fighter so he could watch it shrink off into the distance. It was true, no simulation could prepare you for the rush of being forcibly ejected out of the bottom of the ship. The Triton was nothing more than a speck of metal glinting under the light of a thousand new stars in the nebula behind him.
He looked over the Navnet broadcast the Triton's flight deck was maintaining and verified he was clear of the four fighters patrolling nearby before checking other systems.
“Jake?” Alice said on his personal comm.
“Hi Alice,” he responded as he checked his course. It was preset to take him directly to Pandem, but double checking the math was a good habit to maintain.
“Are you all right?”
Another simple question that reaches deep, he thought to himself.
“I mean, you've put the ship in order, given us time to train and even gotten us organized enough to take on recruits without breaking a sweat. Triton is just about ready for anything, but are you okay?” Alice asked quietly.
In that moment, a split second of clarity that was as surprising as it was rare, he knew what to say. “I'm more myself every day. Now I just have to find out who that is.” He began the reaction inside the extra fusion reactor he had installed in the small optional component bay of the Uriel fighter.
“You know I'm here, right? I might not be installed in your C and C unit, but I'll never be too far off.”
“I know, thank you Alice. You've got a handle on the Triton?”
“A death grip. We'll be here when you get back.”
“I wouldn't feel the same with anyone else in the command chair,” he said through a smile. “Nothing like leaving family in charge. I'll see you soon.”
“Good hunting Jake,” she said before closing the channel.
Jacob Valance locked his course in and began pouring all of the main and secondary reactor's energy into the wormhole generator to create the most hi
ghly compressed passage through space possible. After a few seconds the energy was released into the space in front of the fighter and a wormhole entry point formed. Jake fired his engines and disappeared.
A Good Vantage Point
Ashley couldn't help but take a good look at Alice as she walked towards her along the long padded railing guarding the edge of the top level overlooking the massive park and garden. It took only weeks for the woman looking over the Botanical Gallery to become as iconic and well known on the Triton as the Captain himself. Overhead was the holographic facade that simulated a calm evening. The false sky was starry, featuring a waning moon crossed by a few white clouds, the digital representation warned anyone inside that the massive botanical gallery would be watered soon. It would be raining in just under an hour.
Alice was in her old fashioned flight jacket, a weathered garment that looked like it was made of real leather. Her sidearm, the same heavy weapon the Captain used, was strapped to her leg, and her brown hair hung around her shoulders, stirring a little in the slight breeze. She was as mysterious as the Captain. Looking at her, listening to her getting along with the night crew on the bridge when she was around for the early portion of the evening shift demonstrated two sides of the woman that were distinct, completely separate.
On one hand she was a calculating commander, always watching the general status display. On the other she was easy going, didn't mind having a laugh with the bridge staff as long as they were still doing their jobs. The real puzzle was that she could switch between the two at a moment's notice. That was the only part of Alice's personality that convinced Ashley that she was once an artificial intelligence.
Other than that, she was a confident, intelligent, often charming woman. If Ashley could choose a big sister, or even a young mother, it would be Alice. She was noticed as she came within a few meters of her and Alice looked up from the view below and gave her a slight smile before returning her attention to the people far below.
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