by Danny Loomis
Now everyone watched with rapt attention, trying to absorb the big picture. When the screen blanked after the last two Wasps exploded, number 26 raised her hand. “Sir, I could’ve sworn—did one Wasp sneak off from the rest of us at the first? Thought I saw it heading out, but when I looked again it wasn’t there anymore.”
Jankowski gave a nod. “Yes, you did see a ship. Which brings up a question: Thirty, why did you pick the stealth option for your ship?”
His face heated. “Uh-seemed the best choice in the circumstances, Sir.”
Jankowski smiled. “It also meant you were the winner, without even firing a shot. Good choice, number thirty.” She faced the class. “Remember to consider all factors for an event like the melee. Number thirty just demonstrated the importance of understanding how to use all the weapons in your arsenal. An important lesson.”
A hand was raised, number 28. “But Sir, he didn’t destroy anyone. How could he be the winner…”
“You need to pay attention to the rules, twenty-eight.” She hit a button, bringing up the original mission orders. “As you can see, it says you had to be the last one alive, not that you had to kill off anyone.”
A short pause while scanning the class, and she continued. “The important thing we wanted to get across was that if you used strategy and tactics, you increased your chances of winning drastically. Surprisingly, only two students thought to team up to kill off everyone else. Normally we have at least two or three pairs in a class for the free-for-all. Number 30 just used another tactic, and got to watch everyone die.”
The rest of the day was spent in simulators, with the OIC choosing scenarios for the students to try. To ensure everyone had a partner to fight, teams five and six combined for this phase. Irish found himself killing off the opposition too fast, and quickly scaled back. He spent at least thirty seconds letting his opponent chase him before turning the tables.
“Last dogfight coming up,” Jankowski announced over their radios. “I notice number twenty-one and thirty are having too easy a time of it. I want the other eight of you to attack those two, starting in ten seconds.”
“Number thirty, go to tac eight,” a deep voice said.
He flipped his com switch to the eight setting. “Thirty’s up.”
“You take everything high and right. I’ll take low and left. Meet you in the middle, okay?”
“Sounds good.” Just then the screen cleared, showing a field of asteroids ahead with Wasps streaking towards them. He loosed his first two missiles, unaimed, at the approaching mass and bounced his ship upwards at seven gravs. A quick flip of his wrist and he jinked right, particle beamers firing at two Wasps that appeared to his front, only a handful of kilometers away. Both exploded.
“Heading to the asteroids,” he said, hitting max G’s while dumping chaff. Five missiles swerved towards the decoy, while two continued towards him. He spun his ship, firing his particle beamers at the missiles. One exploded, while the other veered off-course. Irish barely had time to marvel at what had just happened before three Wasps charged in. Split seconds before two blaster beams caught him he was in the asteroids and dodging behind the largest he could find.
His chest was warm, Snowflake in its element. Irish relaxed, absorbing the input he now realized was coming from Snowflake to keep him alive and kicking.
* * *
He knocked on Jankowski’s door. “You sent for me, Sir?”
She gestured to the chair next to her desk. “Have a seat, number thirty. Not bad shooting in the workhorse today. Not bad at all.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Now the only question is, how’d you get the reflexes of a Manxes? Your reaction speed looked to be at least twice that of everyone else.”
He bobbed his head. “To be truthful, my reflexes are the same as everyone else’s.” He indicated his head. “It’s the bio link they installed that’s the culprit.”
She leaned back, face bland. “Explain.”
“Over a year ago, I was badly injured during a mission. They installed a bio link that was supposedly meant for pilots of Dreadnoughts. It went a little haywire and started sprouting thin wires throughout my brain. Almost killed me.”
Jankowski’s eyebrows rose. “A Dreadnought chip?”
He shifted around uncomfortably. “Yes, Sir. They had to put ninety percent of it into hibernation so I’d survive.”
She leaned on the table, a questioning look on her face. “Your medical records show that chip was removed during your last mission because of head wounds you received. That right?”
“Um—yes, Sir. The Edoans put one of their own chips in. About twice the capabilities of ours, and apparently a lot safer.”
“Why haven’t we heard about an upgrade in the works? I’d think enabling everyone’s bio chip would…”
He raised a hand. “Excuse me, Sir. But the Edoans won’t allow that particular technology out of their hands. I only got it because—well, because my squad and I had done something they highly appreciated.”
She smiled. “Yes, and since someone in our government apparently pissed them off, only a government liaison is allowed in their system, now.”
Irish nodded soberly. “I heard about that, Sir. Too bad someone didn’t tell the jerk they sent as Ambassador just how important, and independent-minded, they are.”
A quiet chuckle escaped her when she stood. “Sounds like a normal political meeting occurred. Anyway, I appreciate the explanation. Most of this information is under the ‘need to know’ portion of your file.” She leaned over and tapped him on the chest. “Now how about explaining why you’re touching your chest when you get nervous or focusing on something important? And don’t say it’s a nervous habit; it was noted you had a low-level emission from your chest bone, something no one’s ever seen before.”
He jumped when she tapped his chest. “Uh-well-even though it’s not something that’s classified, I was told not to advertise I had it.”
Jankowski perched on her desk. “Okay, start at the beginning and tell me.”
Irish leaned back, trying to relax. “Besides giving me the new bio chip, the Edoan leadership gave me a small crystalline structure that looked like a snowflake, about two centimeters in diameter. Said it was some kind of alien communication device. No one had ever been able to find anything out about it for over a hundred years. It seemed to become an interface between my biological brain and the bio chip. No one knows why, or can even begin to copy its design.”
“Where’d it come from originally?”
“No idea. It was found in a cave on Edo, but nothing else was around it.” He shrugged. “That’s about it.”
“I just realized while you were talking. You’re the one who got the Orion Cluster awarded two-three months ago.”
At his silent nod, she continued. “I’ve got to get with Admin and make sure they update your records to include that. And no, I won’t spread that gossip around.” She stood once more. “Okay, that’s it. At least now I understand. Just a cautionary note, though, try to scale back on your reflexes. You can go hog wild in the simulator when by yourself, but cool it when you’ve got an audience.”
The following week was what they’d all been waiting for. Now they could start the actual flying of Wasps. But first, the preparatory work had to be learned.
“When you get to the tailfins of the Wasp on your walk around, pay close attention to this…” Jankowski kept talking, touching various portions of the Wasp with her wand’s laser beam. All five of her team followed around the aircraft. Although they’d covered this in class, it was different when the real thing was in front of them. He stroked the tail of the ship when they passed under it. Damn, these were beautiful creatures…
Jankowski’s voice cracked out. “Number thirty, quit fondling that Wasp and catch up. We’ve got better things to do than watch you make love to it!” His face heated and he hurriedly stepped out. Shit. She must have eyes in the back of her head.
M
inutes later they gathered around the front of the ship. “Unless you’ve been alerted to do an emergency launch, you will always do a walk around inspection of your Wasp. It will save you a potful of hurt later on.” She eyed each of them. “Before you fly solo, you have to satisfy your training instructor, which means you’ll be in a two-seater Wasp until that individual is satisfied with your performance.” She looked at all of them.“Questions? No? Then move out and get suited up for your first flight.”
They trotted towards the interior of the closest hangar, Irish bringing up the rear. Finally, now they could fly the real thing.
The instructor in the two-seated Wasp trainer taxied them to the take-off point. “Alright, me bucko, your turn. Show me what you got.”
Irish hesitated. “Can I do a combat take-off?”
A chuckling sound came over the intercom. “Only if you’ve done ‘em before, and a simulator don’t count.”
“About 25 or so. That enough?”
This was met with a second of silence. “Um-sure, go ahead.”
The accelerator slammed forward and he pulled back on the steering yoke. The Wasp shot forward and up, close to a 75 degree angle. Within seconds it had powered through the sound barrier, bringing a squawk from the trainer. “Shit, man, you almost made it to vertical! Okay, now go to the carrier we got parked up there and show me a perfect landing, willya?”
Thirty minutes later, Ian approached the front of the huge, cigar-shaped ship that looked like a honeycomb was attached to the front. In actuality, it was the recovery bays for Wasps and shuttles. Up to 45 at a time could land. The carrier was large as a Superdreadnought at four kilometers long and one wide. Its armor was much thinner than other ships, making it depend on top-of-the-line stealth generators plus dozens of anti-missile lasers and smaller missiles for defense.
“Once around it,” the trainer said. “I always enjoy lookin’ at these babies.”
“You got it,” Irish said, thoughts echoing his. He’d enjoyed the time spent on one. Lots of room, compared to other ships of the line.
A slow creep forward was called for when landing. He powered down to a crawl and entered the square space, not even noticing when passing through the force screen that kept air in. A soft touchdown and he taxied to the rear of the landing zone, stopping when a red light blinked on the bulkhead of the landing area.
“Okay, now we wait until everyone else lands,” the trainer said. “Wouldn’t want to collide with someone when we take off.”
Ten impatient minutes later, he received the go signal and zipped from the carrier. Another turn around the ship and they descended, where he made a smooth landing. Pivoting his ship around, he was once more ready for takeoff.
“Not bad,” the trainer said. “Another five times, if you please.”
Irish groaned. This could get old in a hurry.
* * *
The weeks fled by while they busied themselves with the fundamentals of flying in space. Not only singly, but in groups. There were specific formations for attacking smaller ships, to include Vipers. The same with Battlecruisers and Battleships. Different variations could be made, depending on the circumstances when attacking. All these were ground into their brains until they could perform them in their sleep. At least they were beginning to feel that way.
“Damn, didn’t think I’d be glad to walk away from a Wasp,” groused number 26, rubbing her backside. “Feel like my ass is attached to the plane.” They’d just finished eight hours of straight flying, going through every formation they’d learned. At least that portion of the class was finished, since all of them had been given a green light.
She lengthened her stride. “Day after tomorrow we start live fire exercises, and then…”
“And then we get our final field exercise,” number 29 said with a fist pump. “Damn, we’re almost there!”
Irish smiled, matching their stride. “Since I was the last one down today, I guess that means I’m buying first round at the Club tonight?”
A chorus of voices kicked in and all of his team stepped up the pace to their quarters. He nodded to himself. Yes, they’d done well. Felt good to be part of a team.
* * *
All thirty cadets filed into a regular sized classroom, to attend the last lecture prior to starting their final week of training. He slouched in his seat, rubbing his eyes. Too much time in the simulator last night. This time, though, all five of the team had been practicing formations together. The final exercise would be some kind of attack by them on one of the ships currently on station in the Alamo system. The team wouldn’t find out until Monday which of them would be team leader for the exercise. Even so, they could practice over the weekend if they wanted to.
“Ten-Hut!” barked McIntyre’s voice.
Startled, Irish jumped to his feet and braced. Damn, this was the first time they’d come to attention for anyone other than the commander since the first day of class. An officer in navy dress whites strode down the aisle, a Lieutenant according to the tabs on his shoulders. His face looked familiar…
He reached the podium and scanned the class. “Be seated, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Lieutenant Leslie Grant, from Sector Intelligence.”
Recognition flooded through him, along with a moment of disquiet. Of course. Last time he’d seen this character, he was a Major in the Confederation’s army. Things tended to happen when he showed up, too. Must’ve been through rejuve treatment since he looked at least twenty years younger. All his hair was light brown now, the grey streaks gone.
“Welcome to your strategic intelligence briefing, everyone.” He scanned the audience, a slight smile on his face. “Prior to your graduating, it’s required to brief you on what’s happening militarily. As you know, we recently declared war on the Alliance Hegemony.” A picture appeared behind him on the screen, depicting a roughly circular gathering of 30 stars. “They’ve been attempting to expand for some time, and finally have begun to do so in earnest.” An elongated picture of seventy stars representing the Confederation appeared, with red arrows pointing inward from the galactic west.
“These incursions began several months ago. As you see, two of them only went in a short distance.” He directed a laser dot to the arrow penetrating a third of the way into the ovoid of stars. “This one, however, was their main thrust. To date, they’ve invaded five star systems, ending in the one called Eire.”
Chills ran down his spine. Eire! Hopefully his family was okay.
“The reason the Alliance stopped at this point is because Eire has a government that recently became friendly with them. Once the other systems are subdued along the route leading to Eire, they plan on establishing a fortified beachhead. To do this, they’ve committed five Wings of ships and five Army divisions.” Another image appeared on the screen, this time a large metallic ovoid. “This ship is also with their task force at Eire. It first appeared in the Edo system, where it was instrumental in all but wiping out a task force we’d sent there. Twelve of our ships, to include one carrier and almost all of the Wasps were destroyed.”
There was a susurrus of sound from the cadets at this. It had been kept secret until recently just how badly the Confederation had been mauled in that first battle.
“In answer to this the Confederated Planets not only declared war on the Alliance Hegemony, we have stepped up our production of ships, convinced eight more planets to join the Confederation who had been neutral until now, and have dramatically increased the aid we receive from the Federated Planets. Earth itself has begun production of military material for us, something they haven’t done with anyone for many years.
“Which brings us to the need for Wasp pilots,” he said. “Due to technological advances, the Wasp has been significantly improved. Several planets were already producing a total of 40 Wasps per month, and we’re now raising that number to 150. This will ensure the ten carriers we already have receive their combat load of Wasps, plus enough for the other fifteen
that will be coming on line this year.” He paused, taking a drink.
“We have ten Wasp flight classes being conducted, two to each planet with a major air base on it.” Grant gave another glance around the class. “We expect members of this class to be assigned to the carrier Cranston, which came out of its building dock two weeks ago. You’ll arrive just in time to take part in its final space trials.” Everyone, including Irish, was vibrating in their seats at this news. Hot damn, a carrier!
Grant brought the star map back up showing where the Alliance had started its attack. “We have already begun our counterattacks on two of the planets they invaded, with plans in the works for the others. We hope to seal off the path into Eire quite soon. The primary concern tactically and strategically remains with the large ship I showed you. It is, in essence, a moving fortress. From what we’ve been able to find out, its armament…” He continued on for several minutes. Finally, he shut off the last picture.
“Are there any questions?”
A cadet on the far side of the room came to parade rest. “Sir, speaking as a Wasp pilot, what chance do Wasps have against that ship, either singly or in numbers?” Irish shuddered, the memory of multiple explosions surrounding the beast of a ship while it casually swatted the Wasps from space.
Grant shook his head. “At this point not good. Normal tactics have proven fruitless to date. However, with the addition of the blaster we might be able to have some effect on it. That’s being studied now.”
Another cadet stood. “How many of those ships does the Alliance have?”
“Only the one, I’m glad to say,” Grant said with a smile. “Once it was identified which ship building facility had produced this monstrosity, a raid was recently conducted to make sure they couldn’t build any more for several years to come.”
After two more questions, the class became silent. Grant scanned the class one last time. “If there aren’t any more questions, I wish you well in your next assignment.”
