The Legion and the Lioness (World Apart Book 1)

by Robert D. Armstrong

  “Wait, what? Xena?” I asked. I was surprised to hear a familiar voice.

  “Hello, Captain. How was your seventy-two-year nap?” The AI asked.

  “Fine.” I spun around on the ladder. “After all these years, you’re still using the same artificial intelligence?”

  “The XU-97 you requested came fitted with this A.I., but she’s learned a thing or two since your day. You’ll be familiar with her. That was the point, just like the ship,” Corvin explained.

  “Right.” This was strange. All this technology customized to make me more comfortable? Sure, it was easy to let this notion feed my ego, I was a legendary pilot to anyone who glanced at my files, but there was something else.

  Converting this ship and my AI didn’t happen over a couple of months. Retrofitting this jet could have taken years. How long did they have me in mind for this mission? Did they keep me under the ice until everything was ready?

  I clambered into the cockpit of the craft. I instantly felt at home. The materials inside the cockpit seemed updated, less cluttered with instrumentation and dials. It even had a new car smell. I glanced over at the copilot seat to my right. I assume that was Drake’s spot.

  Behind us was a second row of seats reserved for targeting officers during bombing runs. I thought of Commander Rotus again for a moment, then I closed my eyes, blocking it out.

  I immediately snapped behind the seats. There was a small hatch that was partially open. I peered around inside, observing a cramped berthing area with four beds. The whole thing must have been about the size of a studio apartment, but with less headroom. To be fair, it was still roomier than my XU-97. It appeared extended by about four meters.

  “I’ve glanced over your performance files, Captain Belic,” Xena said. I tilted my head to the side like a confused dog.

  “Hmm. Okay,” I said.

  “Your marks are high, overall,” Xena responded. I paused for a few seconds.

  “Overall?” I asked.

  “There are very specific evaluation remarks, but there’s no need to delve into them now. It was a long time ago,” she said.

  “Not to me, Xena. I’m ordering you to give me your opinion of my piloting ability.” I smirked and lifted my eyebrows.

  I didn’t remember Xena using dialogue like this, so now, I was interested. Before, Xena would simply remind me of things, a landing gear malfunction for example or relay data on threats.

  “Your files indicate that your reaction time is superior to most pilots, along with your ability to perform extreme maneuvers and handle high G-forces. However, the logs also mention you can be quite, aggressive at times,” Xena said.

  “To be fair, I am a fighter pilot. What is the word before pilot?” I questioned.

  “Fighter,” Xena replied.

  “Exactly. Xena, run a diagnostic. What are this ship’s capabilities?” I asked.

  “Classified.”

  “What? Why?” I demanded.

  “You must complete the basic flight course,” Xena replied. I shook my head.

  “Um, Captain,” Corvin said, bouncing on his toes. I glanced down at him from the ship. He had his arms crossed with a grin on his face.

  I hoped this wasn’t fun for him. An image popped in my mind that he was some sort of fighter pilot fanboy when he was young.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “You and Drake are going up into orbit in the next forty minutes, autopilot will be in control, so you’ll just be along for the ride,” he directed.

  “No control? Not even overrides?” I asked.

  “Not this trip. Xena will be in operational command once the mission starts, which should take no more than two hours total. It’s all very basic, routine familiarization of the new instrumentation and capabilities. At any point if you feel uncomfortable, we’ll descend back into the atmosphere,” Corvin said.

  “Fine. Let’s do it.”

  “Good. Drake, have the men ready two flight suits and helmets,” Corvin said. He lowered his voice and said something else I didn’t catch. Drake nodded at Corvin, then looked up at me and grinned. “Captain, come back down and we’ll have your helmet fitted.”

  “On the way,” I said. A chance to fly. I was making progress. It felt like I was one step closer to Luther.

  Chapter 6

  “YOU have flown this craft?” I asked Drake. He ignored my question, running through a series of checks on the blue holographic screen in front of us.

  We were strapped in tight inside the ship, ready for takeoff. He was to my right as I stared past the glare from the ceiling lamp on his red tinted visor. Our helmets were unobtrusive, sleek, and edgy, the aggressive lines were not unlike the XU-97 itself.

  “Hey, can you hear me?” I followed up.

  “Yes. I’ve flown this craft, twice. But my duties aren’t centered on piloting,” he replied.

  “Okay, but you feel comfortable in the pilot’s seat?” I asked. This was important in case of an emergency. I needed a copilot.

  “Yeah. Absolutely,” he said with confidence.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “I’m just sure of myself,” he said. He shrugged his shoulders. I knew plenty of pilots that spoke that way. Some would even talk tough and crumble during training exercises.

  “Good.” I panned over toward him. I heard a muffled hydraulic wail under us. Then the craft rocked slightly as it slowly spun toward the large, black hangar exit. A red light flashed on both sides of the door as steam vented upward from the floor in front of us.

  I was sitting in the pilot seat, but for once, I wasn’t in control. To be honest, I was a bit nervous. I didn’t trust many people to fly for me, and this time it was a machine. I glanced down at the flight stick within a dozen centimeters of my right hand.

  “Back in the saddle again,” Drake said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, it’s a phrase people used to say on Earth. I read about it.” He frowned.

  I chuckled. “That’s old, like my great-grandparents’ day.”

  “A little off.”

  “Yeah, a little, but I appreciate the attempt to identify with the Earthling culture.” I grinned. I could see Drake smiling as he glanced over the right wing.

  “Drake, Belic, this is Corvin. As I said before, this is a routine training flight. Just sit back and allow Xena to do all the work. You’ll be back home in less than two hours,” Corvin explained. His voice chimed inside my earpiece.

  “Home,” I mumbled.

  “Thank you, General Corvin,” Xena said. Suddenly, the engines roared behind us. It sounded like my XU-97, but quieter.

  “Is that normal? The sound? Doesn’t seem loud enough,” I asked Drake.

  “Yeah, it’s normal. Hybrid, chemical and electric. The electric engine is solar powered.”

  “More moving parts, more potential problems,” I muttered.

  “I’m not an engineer, but I know these engines are hyper efficient compared to your days.”

  “I would hope so. Electric engine for cruise speeds?” I guessed.

  “Absolutely. And the chemical thrusters are there for extreme situations and provide an insane amount of boost on top of the electric engine. For reference, I’ve heard estimates of over Mach one hundred and twenty in Earth’s gravity,” Drake replied.

  “That’s not only unfathomable, but unfeasible for most anything... I like it.”

  “Yeah, not that we would ever try that. Right?” He stared over at me.

  “Of course not,” I said in a sarcastic tone. Drake chuckled initially before his smile flattened out. His eyes widened. I wondered how he perceived someone with combat experience. He lived in a peaceful civilization his entire life.

  “What about the transit to Earth? How is artificial gravity handled?” I asked.

  “Xena will deploy a space tether, we’ll be spinning for most of the duration,” Drake confirmed.

  I sighed. “At least we’ll have gravity.”

  “So, what’s it l
ike, waking up to all this new technology? Kinda trippy I would imagine?” Drake asked.

  “Not bad, some things are better than expected, some aren’t,” I said. Both the installation design and jet were impressive feats, but I wasn’t blown away by much else. The computer seemed to use similar hologram interfaces to the ones on Earth.

  “Well, we didn’t have enough facility space for all the research purposes, but the reason some things are better than expected is because of your crew,” he said.

  “My crew?”

  “On the way over to Titan, some of your passengers were Earth’s best and brightest. Well, they had children, producing even greater minds. You can thank them for many of the improvements you see. The electric engine for example was designed so that we could study Saturn and its moons, it’s improved since,” he said. Titan should have used those brains to build more weapons, not just research craft.

  “Did the installation just stop? I feel less gravity.” I observed.

  “Of course, for takeoff we stop the facility,” Drake replied.

  “I barely noticed,” I said. There wasn’t even a slight judder.

  The hangar doors began to open from the middle in front of us. Dim sunlight darted in as my visor automatically tinted.

  I studied the runway ahead of us. From here, I guessed it was about two hundred meters extended beyond the facility, like a bridge to nowhere. It was elevated several meters off the ground and tilted upward at a slight angle. Blue lights flashed on both sides of it. Ahead of the ramp there was a layer of dull pink smog.

  The blue lights on the runaway turned yellow and began to blink slowly.

  “Ready?” he asked, glancing over at me.

  “Always,” I replied.

  “Captain, I’ve secreted a calming agent into your helmet, very low dose. It will aid you with the anxiety of this evolution,” Xena said.

  “Anxiety? I’m a combat pilot. Isn’t this just training?” I asked.

  “Of course, but we want you to feel at ease,” Xena said.

  “Thanks for asking,” I spouted off, shaking my head. What else were they doing without my permission? It was somewhat frightening how casual they were about it. What was next? ‘Oh, by the way, Captain Belic, we’ve decided to impregnate you with an alien we found on Titan. We didn’t consult with you initially, but we hope this is in your best interest.’

  Give me a break.

  “Launch in five, four, three, two, one,” Xena said.

  “Whoa.” I felt my head pin back. The muscles in my jaw seemed jumbled atop one another. I could feel my eyes sink into my skull. Before I knew it, we were a kilometer off the ground. The rush reminded me of being catapulted off an aircraft carrier, but multiplied by a factor of twenty or more.

  “Yep, that’s fast,” I grunted.

  “Y-y-yeah!” Drake shouted.

  My head rattled back and forth as I spun around, peering through the haze at the installation. Wow. The track was massive, I guessed three kilometers in diameter with a banked incline like a race course.

  The facility atop the track was huge. The outer sections reminded me of two parallel bullet trains. There were twelve gigantic connected terminals in-between. I wondered where my room was from here.

  “I have to say. That’s an incredible feat of engineering,” I muttered, staring at the installation as it disappeared out of view.

  Drake glanced over at me and nodded. “I can’t begin to imagine what you must feel seeing that,” he said. I ignored him. There wasn’t much he could understand about my feelings.

  I saw large mountains and methane lakes disappearing beneath me as we entered dull pink clouds. Before I knew it, the drab atmosphere surrounding the cockpit turned black. We were in space. The low gravity of the moon and increased power of the XU-97 made short work of Titan’s six-hundred kilometer high atmosphere.

  “That was different,” I said.

  “But not nearly the experience leaving Earth I’m sure? With all the colors?” Drake asked.

  “It’s not as pretty, that’s for sure,” I replied.

  I scanned to my left and down. I admired the colossal sphere of Titan beneath me. A glowing, orange stroke highlighted the outer pink horizon line. I remembered seeing the photos from probes when I was young, but this, this was a sight. Even though it wasn’t as vibrant as Earth, it was my first time in another atmosphere.

  I had already orbited the moon and Earth before I was twenty-five, and seeing Earth from space was special. I remembered my first time when I was a trainee at the Naval Academy.

  Sixteen college-aged kids herded into a transport shuttle were blasted off in what felt like a rattle trap. It was essentially an old NASA shuttle shell from the late 1990s refitted, lengthened with improved chemical rocket engines for takeoff, and an Ion engine for moon expeditions. The damn thing felt like it would fall apart while making the climb.

  The next thing I remembered was the silence as the blackness of space overtook our field of view, like a movie theater darkening just before the featurette. The casual conversation between us midshipmen stopped abruptly as the blue hue beneath us stole the show.

  I was overwhelmed with excitement and awe. I thought of all the billions of humans over the generations that looked up to the blackness and wondered what was beyond, and there I was, staring down on them. It was humbling.

  Months later, I came home on leave. I recalled explaining my emotions to my father, Phillip, about the experience. He was a quiet, simple man. He was thirty-six when he first saw the ocean and described that as life changing. I used that to draw a comparison for my space flight.

  I remembered his dark brown eyes hollowing out as he struggled to envision it. He nodded his head slowly and smiled. “I can’t imagine, but I’m glad you were lucky enough to see it,” he said softly. He looked down, rubbing his callused hands together.

  When I saw his eyes, I knew I made the right decision to be a naval officer. I wanted travel and adventure. I inherited that from him. Pictures littered his office of exotic lands and foreign countries.

  Circumstances as a single father kept him nailed down, consumed by the weekly grind as a construction contractor. He put my brother and I through school though, paid every dime.

  I felt a tear roll down my left cheek as I realized I would never see my father again.

  “Captain, I’m detecting your heart rate is elevating. Do you require medical—”

  “No, Xena, she’s good,” Drake answered. I noticed him leaning around to have a look at me. He might have thought I was emotional viewing his home world.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  I glanced out toward my Earth for a moment out in the distance, it appeared as a faint star. Like all the other planets in our solar system, it was possible there were no humans there either.

  The thought left an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. There were so many questions, and my introduction to this Earthbound voyage seemed to sail on urgency.

  I wondered if part of their rush was to distract me from the obvious fact that I was alone. My family, my friends, my planet. Gone. Luther was the only anchor linking me to existence in this world, and hope was all I had.

  “Alright, Xena, what’s next?” Drake spoke up.

  “Proceeding to orbital revolution,” Xena said.

  “What? We’re doing a full revolution?” I asked.

  “It won’t take long, believe me,” Drake insisted.

  “If you look right in front of you, you’ll see a flight stick similar to your old XU-97. See it?” Xena asked.

  “Yes, the flight stick in my XU-97 had directional control, vectored thrust,” I said. I noticed the throttle moving automatically under Xena’s control. A holographic display faintly appeared in front of my visor, allowing me to see the XU-97’s speed without obstructing my view.

  I reclined back in my seat a bit and began to relax. It seemed whatever medication they gave me was doing the trick. It didn’t make me sleepy or unintereste
d, just extinguished some of the anxiety I had about my situation.

  Titan was off to my left and slightly obscured by the ship. I bobbed my head up slightly over the cabin line to get a better angle, but no sooner than I did, Xena rolled the craft to give me a wider viewing angle from my seat. Now, the moon was in full view.

  “Whoa, okay,” I mumbled. She did it on purpose. Despite being a slight gesture, it felt eerily invasive. Maybe I was paranoid, but her reaction time to my body language was impressive.

  “Captain,” Drake said. He nodded off to his right. I wasn’t terribly fond of the way he said my name, it sounded borderline authoritative.

  “What?” I said nonchalantly.

  He snapped toward me. “We’re coming around the backside of the moon. What you’re about to see is—”

  “Saturn,” I anticipated.

  “Yes, but the scale from here... Let’s just say it’s quite impressive,” he explained.

  “Thanks for the heads up. Get the vomit bucket ready.” I grinned. I was fine, especially on this soothing medication.

  I could see Saturn’s rings flaring out below and above Titan. I began to see the gas juggernaut’s horizon line coming into view.

  “Lots of lore and stories from people who live here about Saturn. It’s very important to many Titans,” he said.

  “Yeah, Earth’s moon provided folks with crazy superstitions and ideas too, mostly in the early days of human history, though,” I replied.

  “Some see Saturn as a life giver. An equilibrium. A tilt of Saturn’s orbit of twenty five percent would throw the entire solar system into chaos. It’s possible there wouldn’t have been life on Earth without it,” he said.

  “Interesting.” I gasped as Saturn appeared in all its glory. Xena slowed the ship’s throttle to twenty percent and tilted the craft to give a better viewing angle of the giant in full view.

  The rings casted a dark shadow on Saturn’s bright atmosphere, like a giant black paintbrush stroke across a white canvas. I also observed a blue green aurora that danced across the northern hemisphere.