by Linn Schwab
SENTINELS
Linn Schwab
Book #1 in the Sentinels saga.
The characters in this book are fictional.
Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 1997, 2012, 2014 by B. Linn Schwab
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced
or distributed in any manner without
permission from the publisher.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9884105-0-3
ISBN-10: 0-9884105-0-8
Cover art by Johnny Atomic
Mystic Winds Publishing
Kalamazoo, Michigan.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
SENTINELS 001
KITTENS 002
POLLYANNA 003
WORMS 004
SENTINELS 005
JOELLEN 006
HORNETS 007
ECHO 5 008
VOLARIS 009
SISTERS 010
SURVIVORS 011
STEEL WALLS 012
PRODIGIES 013
REVELATIONS 014
MINDY 015
WARM MILK 016
SECRETS 017
CAPTAINS 018
STATIONS 019
UNDERTONES 020
PHANTOMS 021
INTIMATIONS 022
PERSPECTIVES 023
PRELUDE 024
FIREFLIES 025
AVIATRIXES 026
INSTINCTS 027
PAWNS 028
SONATA 029
TRIALS 030
PANIC 031
QUESTIONS 032
GHOSTS 033
FATIGUE 034
EMERGENCE 035
HATCHLINGS 036
VOICES 037
REQUIEM 038
ECHOES 039
DETERMINATION 040
OBJECTIVES 041
VALHALLA 042
TRAFALGAR 043
MAELSTROM 044
RESOLUTION 045
SENTINELS 001
Virginia had never felt more insecure. A battle was expected to commence at any moment, and her nerves were already on the casualty list. The carrier Mistral was ferrying Virginia’s squadron into combat, hurtling through space toward an enemy fleet. Soon she’d be scrambling up to the flight deck to pilot her fighter on a perilous excursion. But for the moment, she was still sitting on the ready room floor, waiting for the order that would send her into action, and agonizing — almost to the point of hysteria — over ominous creaking noises coming from the Mistral’s straining hull.
Steel plating gnawed at Virginia’s composure, relentlessly assaulting both her body and mind. The seat of her flight suit provided very little cushion against the cool harshness of the Mistral’s deck plates. An hour of remaining uncomfortably seated had already triggered sharp pains in her behind, and vibrations were a continual annoyance as powerful pulsations coursed through the floor.
A perpetual droning resonated throughout the massive warship as its engines drove it forward under heavy thrust. Vibrations from the engines wracked the vessel’s frame, causing welds to weaken and loosened metal plates to clatter. The rattling of steel plates tormented Virginia; it was a sound that fanned her fears of being sucked into space. If the integrity of the ship’s outer hull plates was compromised, all the pilots in the ready room could be swept away to their deaths.
Of all the various compartments on the Mistral, this was the one room she dreaded the most. Thirty meters across and nearly ninety meters long, it resembled a vast empty shell, comprised almost entirely of steel plates and trusses. Its position at the very bottom of the ship meant that it shared a great deal of its structure with the hull. This combination resulted in a room with most of its surface area outwardly exposed — a fact Virginia was all too aware of, and a source of tremendous anxiety for her.
Reeling from the disheartening effects of her surroundings, Virginia looked to her closest companions for comfort. Sitting all around her on the floor were the other seven girls who belonged to her squadron. She’d been with them now for a little less than two months, but the bonds of friendship had already taken hold. Any one of them possessed the ability to make her feel better just by whispering a few reassuring words to her. Longingly, she looked from one girl to the next, hoping to make eye contact with someone. But all of her comrades remained quiet and still, gazing down at the floor in front of them as if frozen in some kind of melancholy trance. Virginia wanted desperately to get someone’s attention, but an uneasy silence held the room in its grip, and she was reluctant to be the one who disturbed it.
Flustered and distraught, she sighed and glanced up at a clock on the wall. It dismayed her to learn how long the silence had lasted. There were twelve full squadrons present in the room — ninety–six fighter pilots in all — yet not a word had been spoken in over an hour.
Of all the different elements that were vexing Virginia, this was the one that distressed her the most. The lengthy silence was uncharacteristic of her comrades. In the few short weeks since she had joined them, not once had she seen them in this condition. They were all experienced combat pilots, and she’d found herself wishing on several occasions that she could rise to their level of self–confidence.
Troubled by the somber expressions on their faces, she gazed forlornly at the girls in her squadron. They all looked as if they’d been sentenced to death. Is it always like this before a battle? she wondered. Glancing around at the other squadrons, she saw the same empty expression on every face in the room. Though they were all sitting in squadrons of eight, each pilot was alone with her own thoughts right now.
“Why are we still sitting here?” Virginia asked in desperation. The silence had finally gotten to her. If something didn’t happen to relieve some of her tension, she was certain to suffer an anxiety attack.
The other girls seemed amused by her question. They didn’t giggle or laugh out loud, but their smiles made her feel self–conscious and naive. She waited expectantly for someone to answer her, but no one else seemed willing to undermine the silence. Nervously, she twirled a finger in her hair and stared down at the floor beside her in embarrassment. It seemed obvious that she’d violated some unspoken taboo and would now have to suffer the consequences for it. But the captain of her squadron sensed her distress, and compassionately offered a reply to her question.
“They won’t launch us until we’re in range,” Kathy explained, mercifully taking some of the heat off Virginia.
Shyly, Virginia looked over and flashed a grateful smile at her. The words had done more for her than ease her embarrassment—it was just comforting to hear Kathy’s voice.
Kathy felt her heart filling with sadness as she studied the look in Virginia’s eyes. It was obvious the poor girl’s nerves were on fire — a clear indication she was going to have trouble. Ever since the sprightful young blonde had arrived, Kathy had been plagued with mixed feelings about her. There was something so mesmerizing about her youthful appearance and her childlike, cheerful disposition that the entire squadron had taken to her right from the start. They coddled Virginia as though she were a little lost puppy, and they had affectionately nicknamed her “Pollyanna.” Yet it was those same qualities that made everyone worry about her because they made her appear so vulnerable.
“Listen, Virginia,” Kathy whispered sincerely, “stay close to me when we get out there, okay? I don’t want to lose you in your first battle.”
Virginia nodded and looked around at her companions. Each of them managed a smile for her, but she could clearly see the looks of concern i
n their eyes. It didn’t do much to bolster her confidence. Is there something they aren’t telling me? she wondered. Am I such a bad pilot that they’re convinced I’m going to die?
She thought back over the past several weeks, to the day she had first arrived on the Mistral. She’d flown with the squadron every day since joining them, participating in maneuvers and mock dogfights. If anyone was concerned about her flying ability, they certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about it to her. And she’d gone through fighter training after turning nineteen—just like all the other pilots. All she was lacking was combat experience. Or was it?
An alarm rang out, disrupting the awkward stillness and igniting a flurry of activity in the room. Three bells sounded in rapid succession, signaling the pilots to line up in formation. Virginia’s reflexes took over for her as she scrambled to her feet and found her standby position. Her station was clearly designated on the floor by a brightly painted circle surrounding her name.
There were ninety–six such painted circles on the floor — one for each and every pilot on the ship. They were laid out in four rows which spanned the length of the room, and divided the pilots into two separate columns. Each of the two columns consisted of a front and rear rank, and stood facing each other across a central aisle. In each column, six squadrons stood side by side, with four pilots in the front rank, and the other four behind them.
Virginia lined up in the rear rank of her squadron. Stacey and Gina were standing to her left, and Patti was standing just to her right. Kathy was at the captain’s position in the front rank, with Sharon, Jill, and Samantha lined up to her left. Once the pilots had all reached their positions, the room fell silent and still once again.
Trying her best not to draw attention to herself, Virginia glanced along the line in both directions. The pilots still had the room to themselves. In the center of the wall at one end of the room was a sloping tunnel that led up to the next deck. Shortly after the pilots were in their positions, their flight commander emerged from the shadows in the tunnel.
Commander Sarens looked just as elegant as ever, with her uniform dress tightly wrapping her body. In the midst of all the pilots dressed in heavy gray flight suits, her sleek black dress was strikingly beautiful. Swiftly and gracefully, she walked between the columns, checking to see that all of her pilots were present. When she reached the midpoint of the formation, she abruptly turned and addressed her squadrons.
“Alright, Sentinels, we’re set to deploy. The fleet we’re intercepting is slightly smaller than ours, but we anticipate a full head to head confrontation. Our enemies are still hoping to wear us down over time. Let’s show them we’re just as determined as ever.” Taking half a step backward, she straightened her body and placed her right fist over her heart in salute. “LIFE!” she shouted in honor of her pilots.
“VAL–HALLA!” they screamed in unison, returning her salute.
A single bell sounded, signaling the launch to begin. Virginia felt her heart skip a beat. Commander Sarens immediately barked out an order: “Scramble squadrons Seventeen and Fifty–One!”
Virginia leaned forward and looked to her right. The squadrons on that end of each column broke formation and sprinted into the tunnel. In less than four minutes they would be out in space. In two minutes, the next two squadrons would follow them. Each wave would deploy only two minutes apart. Virginia’s squadron was fourth in her column. She now had less than six minutes remaining.
With her body trembling now from all the excitement, she took a deep breath and tried to force herself to relax. As she exhaled slowly and lowered her head, the painted letters at her feet stared back up at her in silence:
VIRGINIA SCOT
She was acutely aware that her name was still freshly painted, while the other girls’ names were faded and worn. It was a poignant reminder to her that she was the most inexperienced pilot on the ship — and also that, until just recently, another fighter pilot had been standing here before her.
Virginia often wondered about the girl she’d replaced. Several questions in particular kept swirling through her mind: What was she like? Was she a good pilot? Was she killed, or did she receive a promotion? She guessed that the girl had probably been killed because no one had come forward to tell her about it.
“Scramble squadrons Thirty–Four and Twenty–Seven!”
The command refocused Virginia’s attention. She watched the next two squadrons break and run for the tunnel. She now had less than four minutes remaining. Her heart was beating frantically now and her legs felt as if they were going to give out on her. She concentrated on trying to slow her heart rate, but there was very little hope of accomplishing that; her body was wound up far beyond her control.
“Scramble squadrons Sixty–One and Seventy!”
The squadron standing to the right of Virginia’s suddenly turned and sprinted for the tunnel. Only two more minutes of waiting remained. Virginia winced and glanced beside her at Patti, beginning to feel just a little lightheaded. Patti winked and gave her an encouraging smile, and directed her attention to the other girls around her. Virginia felt her spirits rise as she glanced from each of her companions to the next. They smiled at her and flashed her nods of assurance. It seemed like her squadron was coming back to life, and they were clearly trying to send her a message. Everything was going to be alright! They were all going to look out for her!
“Scramble squadrons Forty–Three and Fifty–Seven!”
Fifty–Seven! It was time for her to go.
Virginia spun to her right and darted toward the tunnel. The first few steps seemed sluggish — like she was mired in a bog, with the weight of her flight boots holding her back. But then she was sprinting full tilt across the floor, with the rest of her squadron running right along with her. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream; her whole body felt like it was lighter than air. The painted circles on the floor passed beneath her like a blur and the entrance of the tunnel seemed to be rocketing toward her.
The two squadrons raced along side by side, shaking the floor like thunder with the force of their footfalls. They burst into the entrance of the tunnel together and sped upward along the incline until they reached the hangar entrance. At the upper end of the tunnel, they were forced to pause for a moment as they waited for the pressure door to swing open. The flight deck was recovering from the previous launch cycles. The door would swing open when the pressure was restored.
With only a matter of seconds remaining, the girls exchanged a few hasty embraces. Gina peered somberly into Virginia’s eyes and leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Be careful, Virginia,” she whispered. She then stepped back to let the other girls in.
“Remember, Virginia,” Patti advised, “try not to make sudden throttle adjustments.”
“And don’t build up too much speed,” Stacey reminded her. “Momentum can be your greatest enemy in combat.”
“And always try to stay close to someone,” Samantha added. “You’re an easy target if you get singled out.”
Virginia was deeply moved by their affections. She struggled to fight back the threat of tears. Now was not the time for her to get misty–eyed or she might not make it out of the flight deck alive.
A sudden loud hiss startled the girls. The door’s pressure seal had just been released. The massive portal began to swivel open.
“Let’s go!” Kathy yelled, leading the way.
Both squadrons streamed through the door together. They spotted their planes and immediately swarmed across the flight deck. Each girl had her own personal fighter with her name emblazoned just under the canopy. They were lined up along the outer walls of the flight deck, facing inward and angled toward the rear of the ship. Each plane was already prepped and ready; their tanks had been filled and their wings were bristling with armaments.
Virginia felt a shiver pass through her body. The sight of all those fighters was exhilarating. With their horizontal win
gs and vertical tail sections, these potent craft were sleek and beautiful — capable of operating not only in space, but also in planetary atmosphere. Each plane was armed with four large rockets and carried four heavy machine guns mounted in the wings.
Virginia eyed the barrels of her guns with apprehension. They seemed almost benign to her in appearance, but she was well aware of the havoc they could wreak in combat. The four of them possessed horrific firepower and could even slice through the hulls of lightly armored ships. But their menacing presence offered little in the way of reassurance. The enemy possessed similar forms of weaponry, so anything Virginia had at her disposal would also be pointing back at her as well.
After climbing up the rungs on the side of her fighter, Virginia pulled herself into the cockpit, swung her feet up and over the sill, and plopped down into the padded seat. She pulled her card key out of her breast pocket and slid it into its slot on the console. The ignition display flashed her name back at her and authorized her to operate the fighter.
Preflight instructions raced through her mind. It was important to complete them in the correct sequence so she could get her plane launched without delay. Every second was critical right now. Her hand trembled as she reached for the power switch and locked it into the ACTIVE position. The entire cockpit suddenly flared to life. She pressed the CANOPY button and began to strap herself in. The transparent canopy lowered into position, isolating the cockpit with an airtight seal. Virginia checked the status display and verified that everything seemed to be in order. The magnetic moorings were already set, keeping her plane firmly fixed to the floor. Now she had only to ignite the main engines.
With her fingers resting gently on the ignitor controls, she grasped the throttle lever with her left hand. She took a deep breath and pushed the throttle forward, applying steady pressure until it read: .005
She closed her eyes for an instant and flipped the ignitor switches forward. Both of her engines thundered to life and she could feel her seat gently rumbling beneath her. She positioned her feet on the pedals and grasped the flight stick in her right hand. Subtle vibrations feeding back through the flight controls were a welcome reassurance that her plane was alive. Now, along with the rest of her squadron, Virginia was ready to exit the flight deck.
