by Linn Schwab
Virginia nodded. Patti had been her previous partner. She hoped that Zoe wouldn’t meet the same fate.
“Alright,” Jenny continued, “you’ll be getting Hornet blacks in a couple of days. It takes a while to get new uniforms this far out from Valhalla. So in the meantime, you’re gonna have to make due with your grays.
“Now,” she said, “I do realize you just got here, Virginia, but I want you and Zoe to go out and get a little practice time in together. There’s still an enemy fleet in this area, so we need to get you up to speed as soon as possible. Okay?”
Virginia nodded and stepped back out of the room. As Zoe got up to follow her, Jenny stopped her and whispered some instructions in her ear. “Remember, she’s still a little green yet, Zoe. We’re gonna have to build her confidence up, so try not to be too hard on her.”
“I hope you made the right choice,” Zoe said. “Because you know what’s gonna happen if she can’t keep up with us. She’s gonna end up falling behind, and that’s gonna be the end of her.”
“I know,” Jenny said, expressing some regret. “I may not have done her any favors by selecting her. Just see what you can do to get her ready, okay? Hopefully she’ll have what it takes to get through this.”
“I’ll do my best,” Zoe said. “And I really hope for her sake that my best is good enough.”
In a clean swath of space out in front of the fleet, Zoe led Virginia through some easy maneuvers, then settled into a figure eight pattern to test her capabilities. “Hang with me now, Virginia,” she said. “I’m going to start building up a little more speed. I want you to hold a steady distance off my wing.” As she increased her velocity and tightened her turns, it became clear that Virginia was struggling to keep up with her. She was going to have to back off a little and increase the level of difficulty in smaller increments.
“Come in a little closer, Virginia. It’s okay if we bump a little in practice. There’s nothing right here for us to crash into.” She waited for Virginia to close in tighter, then began to increase her speed again. This time Virginia did a much better job of maintaining a steady gap off her wingtip. After a few complete figure eight circuits, she began to alter the pattern a little to see if she could throw her off. To her surprise, nothing she tried seemed to phase her. It seemed Virginia’s confidence was growing stronger by the minute.
“Very good, Virginia!” she remarked. “I want to try a little target practice now. It looks like there’s a wreckage field not too far away from here. Let’s see if we can find something there to shoot at.”
Zoe veered toward the wreckage field and passed by a few smaller hull fragments before spotting the remains of an enemy light cruiser. “Cue up a rocket,” she instructed Virginia. “We’re gonna make a run at that cruiser.”
“Okay, I’m ready,” Virginia answered.
“Alright, I’m going to give you a specific point to aim at.” She searched the side of the ship’s hull for a target. The name San Diego was painted near the bow. “See the ship’s name?” she said. “I want you to try to hit the ‘e.’”
No sooner had the words left her lips when a rocket flashed forward from Virginia’s left wing and slammed straight into the side of the wreck. A cloud of smoke still obscured the impact point when the two of them passed over top of the vessel.
“Well, that didn’t take long,” Zoe said. “Let’s swing back around and see how you did. Did you mean to fire that off so quickly, or did you just accidentally trigger the button?” She waited for a response, but Virginia didn’t answer her. “Virginia?” she said, looking around. Virginia wasn’t off her wingtip anymore. “Virginia, where are you?” She felt a slight touch of panic setting in until she spotted Virginia’s plane, hovering motionless a short distance off the cruiser’s starboard side.
“Are you alright, Virginia?” Zoe asked, pulling her fighter to a stop alongside her. She looked over at Virginia and noticed she was staring straight out in front of her with a blank expression on her face. Following the direction of Virginia’s gaze, she soon discovered the reason for her silence. Floating only a short distance away from them were the tattered remains of a Sentinel fighter with the number ‘57’ painted on the tail.
“Oh my god,” Zoe said with remorse. “I’m so sorry, Virginia. I wasn’t even thinking. I should have known better than to bring you here.” The fighter was too far away from them to read the name that was painted on its side. But Zoe knew Virginia must be wondering which one of her comrades the plane had belonged to. Perhaps she was even trying to work up the courage to move in for a closer look. And Zoe knew the best thing she could do for her right now was to make sure she didn’t get a closer look.
“Come on, Virginia,” Zoe said, giving her wingtip a gentle nudge. “Let’s go back to the Tempest now. I think we’ve had enough for today.” It took a little while for Virginia to respond, but eventually she turned her fighter around and followed Zoe in the carrier’s direction. As the two of them passed by the San Diego, Zoe looked for the impact point of the rocket Virginia had fired at it. The letter ‘e’ had been completely blown away. Only a very precise hit could have done that.
When Zoe climbed down out of her fighter, Jenny was waiting on the flight deck to greet her. Virginia had parked her plane nearby and was still sitting in the solitude of her cockpit, staring blankly off into space, in no apparent hurry to climb down and join them.
“What happened?” Jenny said to Zoe, concerned by the look on Virginia’s face.
Zoe sighed and shook her head in despair. “I messed up, Jenny. I messed up bad. I couldn’t blame her if she never speaks to me again.” She gave a brief explanation of what had transpired and asked what Jenny thought they should do.
“Let’s just give her some time,” Jenny said. “You can’t really rush through something like this. All we can do is try to be supportive. We won’t get anywhere by trying to push her.”
When Virginia finally climbed down from her fighter, she had no idea how long she’d been sitting there. She was certain several hours must have passed, and that the evening meal period had come and gone. At some point, the deck crew had refueled her plane and replaced the one rocket she’d fired off earlier. She thought that maybe they’d tried to speak to her, but she wasn’t too sure about that either. The only thing she really was certain of was a pressing need to locate Zoe. Now that her mind had worked through the fog, it was time for her to set things straight.
The first place she tried was her squadron’s quarters. The ship was definitely on evening time. Jenny and the others were all in their beds, but Zoe was nowhere to be seen in the room. “Try the mess deck,” Nancy suggested. “Sometimes Zoe likes to sit there and read.” Moments later, Virginia found Zoe in the mess deck, sitting by herself on a bench in the darkness, staring out at the stars through a large bay window.
Virginia quietly sat down beside her, close enough to ensure that their sides were touching, but avoided looking at her directly. It was a tenuous, nonverbal gesture of friendship — apology, support, acceptance. Forgiveness. A guarded expression of a willingness to bond, while at the same time holding her slightly at a distance.
“You wanna talk?” Zoe offered, hopeful she could smooth things over with Virginia.
Virginia stared down at the table in front of her and said, “I’d like to finish our practice flight.”
Zoe grinned in satisfaction. She sensed this was just what both of them needed. “Absolutely!” she said. “Let’s go shoot the hell out of something!”
A second wreckage field was the destination this time, a short distance removed from the previous site. Zoe hoped this particular field would be clear of bad surprises in the form of destroyed Sentinel warplanes. She was anxious to get started on the business of blasting things, and had already cued up one of her rockets, when her scanner alerted her to a possible threat — a heat source somewhere within the debris.
“Virginia,” she said, “is your scanner detecting a heat signature?” Bu
t before Virginia had a chance to respond, there was a brilliant flash from the wreck of a destroyer, and a barrage of rockets came hurtling toward them.
“Look out!” Zoe yelled. She tried in vain to avoid the ship’s rockets. In an instant, her left wing had been blown away, and her fighter was spinning out of control, with both of her engines damaged and sputtering compulsively. And what had appeared to be a lifeless enemy destroyer was now headed straight for the Sentinel 6th Fleet.
“Alert! Alert!” Zoe screamed into the intercom, “Enemy destroyer closing on the fleet!” She knew there were fighters out on patrol, but it looked like they were too far out of position to intercept the enemy destroyer in time. In her mind, she already knew what to expect. The enemy’s intentions were obvious to her. They would try to take out a carrier or battleship, then attempt to escape amidst the resulting devastation. As if to drive a stake right through her heart, the destroyer appeared to lock in on a target. It was rapidly closing in on the Tempest, and there was nothing Zoe could do to intervene.
“No!” she pleaded in a helpless panic as she watched the destroyer set up for its attack. The ship would make a run for the side of the carrier and attempt to lay a spread of torpedoes along its hull. If the attack run proved to be successful, the target would be completely destroyed. Jenny, Nancy, the rest of her squadron — everyone on board the Tempest would die. It would be a devastating loss for the Sentinels, and a horrific personal tragedy for Zoe. Just as her despair seemed to reach its peak, though, a spark of hope raced into her field of view. A single Hornet had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, and was bearing down swiftly on the enemy destroyer. In the midst of the momentary chaos and confusion, she’d somehow failed to account for Virginia.
Four fighters could easily take out a destroyer. Three could manage it without much of a struggle. Two would find it to be a difficult challenge. For a lone fighter, though, it was a near impossibility. For Virginia to have any chance of saving the Tempest, her attack would have to be virtually flawless.
Zoe gasped and held her breath as the first rocket streaked forward from beneath Virginia’s wing. The rocket exploded on the side of the destroyer, just to the rear of the ship’s bridge windows. That’s a weak spot! she realized. She knows exactly where to hit them! A second rocket impacted on the ship in the same location where the first had connected. If Virginia could land a third rocket there, the destroyer’s hull would be torn wide open, almost certainly killing the entire crew.
Something emerged from the front of the destroyer. The first torpedo had just been fired. At this point there was no longer any question that the Tempest was going to suffer some damage. Another rocket from Virginia’s fighter blasted the side of the destroyer’s hull. A brilliant flash appeared through the ship’s bridge windows, followed by darkness and a puff of black smoke. The enemy ship had met its demise just as its torpedo found its mark. A tremendous explosion rocked the Tempest, resulting in considerable damage to the hull. A gash had been torn in the starboard side, rendering the ship unsuitable for combat. It would definitely have to be taken out of service and transferred to a shipyard to undergo repairs. But Zoe’s alert call had provided enough warning for all of the inner hatches to be sealed.
When the ship’s final damage assessment had been completed, all of her pilots had survived the attack, and 120 of her 3400 crew members had perished. 120 young women that Virginia couldn’t save, and she blamed herself for every one of those deaths. Yet she seemed to be the only member of the Sentinel 6th Fleet who remained unconvinced that she deserved to be a Hornet.
WORMS 004
Peter walked sullenly toward his flight commander’s office, dreading the decision that had to be made. An entire day had now passed since the battle, but Markey and Alex had still not returned. Nor had there been any communication from them. The fleet could sit and wait for survivors no longer. It was time to move on and redeploy somewhere else. If Markey and Alex were still alive, there was nothing more Peter could do for them now. The sign on the office door read:
Commander Joel Ingman
UES INDEPENDENCE
How ironic, Peter thought to himself as he paused just outside the commander’s office. We’ve come all this way to conquer a planet, and we’ve brought along a carrier called Independence. Has our frustration turned us into hypocrites now?
“Come in, Peter,” Commander Ingman said to him, the instant he became aware of his presence. The commander was seated behind a large wooden desk, staring down at some kind of operations report. “Any sign of them yet?”
Peter simply shook his head, knowing the commander could see his reflection on the desktop.
Commander Ingman took a deep breath, then leaned back in his chair and looked up at Peter. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We can’t wait for them any longer. We’re going to have to get under way now.”
“I know,” Peter said in a tone of acceptance. “Thank you for at least giving them a chance.”
The commander pressed an intercom button on his desk. “Bridge?” he said, then waited for a reply.
“Bridge here,” a female voice responded.
“This is Commander Ingman. Inform Admiral Sands that our count is complete. We’re ready now to get under way.”
“Yes, Commander,” the operator replied.
He released the intercom button. “Excellent pilots, Alex and Markey,” he said.
“Two of the best,” Peter agreed.
“Both of them are going to be sorely missed. As will the gallant battleship New Jersey.”
Peter stared at the commander in silence, aware that his apathy was readily apparent.
“You don’t like battleships, do you, Captain Straydel?” the commander observed, thoughtfully.
Again, Peter made no attempt to respond.
“I should hope,” the commander said, “that even you appreciate the significance of battleships.”
“Of course,” Peter responded flatly. “There were twelve hundred and sixty–eight men and women on board the New Jersey. It was a tragic loss, Commander.”
The commander nodded in agreement. “I don’t mean to belittle human life, Peter. You know me better than that. But battleships are a key component of our fleet. They account for a tremendous amount of firepower. Are you saying that you don’t care about that?”
“Why should I care about battleships, Commander? Those things are a menace to the entire universe.”
Commander Ingman seemed intrigued by his response. “How so?” he asked, showing genuine interest.
Peter chose his words carefully and tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Their primary objective seems to be just firing off as many rounds as they can — hosing down the heavens with sixteen–inch shells, with no consideration whatsoever for who or what might happen to get in their way. They don’t concern themselves with us little guys. We’re little more than bugs on the windshield to them.”
The commander shook his head as though he didn’t want to believe what he was hearing.
“You can shrug it off if you like,” Peter said. “But I’ve seen what one of those shells can do to a fighter. And it happens more often than you might think. Our pilots may be safer without the New Jersey, Commander. I’m just sorry her crew had to go down with her.”
Commander Ingman sighed in frustration. His approach wasn’t working. If he was going to get Peter’s cooperation, he would have to try a different tactic. “Alright, Peter,” he said, “just forget about battleships for a minute and give me your honest opinion on something. What the hell are we doing out here?”
Peter looked at him in silence. The obvious response wasn’t worth mentioning. Everyone knew the answer to that. Commander Ingman was clearly trying to make a point about something, but he hadn’t given Peter enough to go on just yet.
“We need to win this war, Peter. We need to get this thing over with. This escalation has been going on for far too long. We build more ships and put more combatants in space. The
y build more ships and put more combatants in space. We can’t afford to keep doing this, Peter. We’re just playing footsie with these enemy fleets when what we really need to do is focus on storming the planet.”
“I know,” Peter said. “But if we can’t find some way to punch a hole through their defenses, storming the planet will never be anything more than just a fairy tale. Besides, our orders come from those worms in Command Central. They’re the ones you need to convince.”
“Worms?” the commander said, chuckling a little. “Sounds like you don’t have much respect for them.”
Peter shrugged. “Worms, weasels, whatever you want to call ‘em. All I know is that we’re out here fighting while they’re sipping tea in a conference room somewhere. And just to be clear, it’s not just the fact that they aren’t putting their lives on the line that earns them so much contempt, Commander. But just how much respect do they expect us to have for them when they aren’t even willing to make the trip out here?”
Commander Ingman nodded in agreement. “They’re all make–believe generals anyway, you know. Completely lacking in combat experience. There hasn’t been a war back on Earth for, what? Going on four hundred years now?” He leaned forward and stared directly into Peter’s eyes. “What would you say, Peter, if I told you Admiral Sands was up for promotion?”
“Promotion? But he’s already a four star admiral.”
“That’s right. Which means, they’ll have to make room for him in Command Central. I’m sure you can appreciate the significance of that.”
Peter seemed lost in thought for a moment. “An actual admiral in Command Central?”
“I thought that might get your attention. No admiral has ever advanced that far. Not since the beginning of the war, anyway. And since he has firsthand knowledge of the actual war zone, his presence there could prove to be very beneficial. Wouldn’t you agree?”
