Star Guild Episode Zero
Page 5
throttle, slowing his starfighter.
“Connor, you have a bogey on your six. Why are you slowing down?” asked Commanding Officer Eden Gaines over Connor's com link.
“The bad boy doesn't have me padlocked yet, Eden!”
“Stop flathatting!”
Connor grinned. “I bet the blackshoe's ain't liking this. Are they sitting behind you, enjoying the view from Starship Brigantia?”
“Dammit, Connor—”
A long beep interrupted their chatter, letting Connor know the bogey now had him on weapon's lock. In a matter of seconds, Connor would be an explosion of lights brought on by his opponent's ion cannons or photon missiles.
Perfect, thought Connor.
He pushed down on the control stick and pulled back on the accelerator at the same time—slowing down even more. The bogey flew right past him, unable to decelerate or adjust position the way Connor did. Just what Connor had planned for.
“I can't believe he fell for that,” laughed Connor, coming out of a stiff underbelly loop, successfully putting him behind the bogey—a starfighter from Star Guild's Starship Sirona.
A low, muffled whisper spoke through the com link. It was Eden. “Admiral Byrd, let me remind you the Fleet Admiral, isn't happy. He left the room.”
The bogey maneuvered left then right, and Chase followed the bogey as if he had a tow line connected. “This Sirona flyboy isn't very good, Eden.”
“Don't let him fool you,” she replied.
Connor sighed. “How did this guy make it this far?”
The Sirona pilot pulled back on his control stick, bringing his craft into a wide upward loop.
Connor mimicked the bandit's movements, looking through the top of his cockpit window, watching the bluish blaze coming from the ion thrusters that propelled the Sirona starfighter forward. On each side of them, a few miles apart from each other, Connor could see the two starships floating in deep space along with them, observing this space battle championship between their two top cadets for the annual Star Guild Academy Games—SGAG's for short.
When the bandit leveled out, Connor did as well, switching from missiles to lasers. He squeezed the trigger, then heard an explosion through the speakers in his cockpit, indicating the bogey had been hit. A moment later, an image of a chicken appeared on Connor's HDC, something the cadets on Starship Brigantia had downloaded over the Brigantia network and onto Connor's HDC as a joke for any starfighters he downed. The starfighter from Starship Sirona had 'bought the farm'. And the opponent confirmed, by tipping his wing to Connor.
“This guy has good manners, but he has a high drift factor,” commented Connor. “How did he make it this far in the games? They pretty much gave us the gold medal.”
“Well done, Connor,” replied an exasperated Eden. “Bring your bird in. Landing bay doors are open and ready for your arrival. You'll have some happy cadets waiting for you.”
Connor spun his ship around. He was less than a minute away from Starship Brigantia and pressed the landing gear's holographic button on his HDC. “Three down and welded.”
“Well, I hope so. Bring her in. Tube nine.”
Starship Brigantia, a starship capable of deep space explorations, held enough people for a small city, just over 10,000, along with enough food and supplies for months on end, even years—if the aquaponic farms on the ship remained in constant service without issue.
Connor brought his craft's nose toward the starship's landing bay, eying tube nine. He decelerated and the tube opened, showing the red and white lights on the inside used as a guide for pilots. Entering the tube, the tube's magnetics assumed steering and thrust, slowing the craft even more, allowing Chase to relax and let go of the control stick.
“Guild, that was easy, Eden,” he said, as he unlocked his helmet's chin strap and turned off the helmet’s atmospheric field generator.
“The landing?”
He flipped up his polarizing radiation visor. “No, the bandit.” He chuckled. “I should take on the gal who won the games ten years ago.”
“You wouldn't have had a chance against me, Connor,” snickered Eden.
“Well, I broke one of your records today. How long did that last kill take me?”
“Nope, the record stands. I beat you by 2 seconds.”
Connor softly bumped the cockpit window with his fist. “Man! How did I screw up that one? I had it in the bag.”
“Hence, why Admiral Byrd walked out on us. You were showboating.”
“Oh, it's not like he didn't showboat when he was in these games.”
“You're almost at the docking bay now, so I'm out.” The com link switched off.
Connor entered the last phase of the landing tube, where it lowered like an elevator onto a landing pad. Men and women wearing dark blue Star Guild military uniforms stood cheering as the platform made its descent, finally clicking in place and resting on the docking bay floor.
Connor looked around, enjoying the feeling of being revered as the cadets and officers chanted his name. He felt proud. Someday, just like his great grandfather and his deceased father, he'd be a captain, steering a starship across the vastness of space.
He closed his eyes. Who was he kidding? Star Guild stuck around in one sector and one sector only, where nothing happened except for the Star Guild Academy Games.
Then he nodded to himself. He'd change that. He'd somehow get out of this sector and to many more beyond. He'd take his people on adventures, show them exactly what he felt he intuitively knew—that life is teeming everywhere in the universe.
He pressed a button and released the pressure inside his cockpit, opening the cockpit canopy. The sound of clapping and cheering filled his ears. He stood, thrusting his fist in the air and yelling, “Brigantia! Gold medal!”
The crowd cheered even louder and he placed his hands on the railings, feeling the cold ebb metal on his palms, and quickly made his way down the ladder and onto the docking bay floor.
People gave him hugs and patted his back, enlarging his already ridiculously big smile. Not only did he win the gold, successfully continuing Brigantia's long tradition as the starship with the most wins in competition history, he also won a loot of money.
Thanking his congratulators, Connor quickly made his way out of the docking bay and to the main hallway that led to the SGAG judge's office. Even though he wanted to stay and relish the victory with all of his cadet trainees and Brigantia docking bay crew, he wanted the money more.
$25,000 bulvas in my banking account. Who said life wasn't easy?
He turned the first corner in the hallway, then stopped on a dime, his boots squeaking and scuffing the floor.
There stood Eden, eyeballing him, lips pursed, tapping her foot. She held a digital HDC pad in one hand, her other hand on her hip. He wanted to run over and kiss her high cheekbones and mess up her short brown hair, just to fool with his superior. Most of all, he wanted to take her on a date and lavish her with his winnings, because unlike Eden thought, she was a true beauty—one that most men rarely noticed. She unknowingly hid it well.
“You didn't do as well as I thought, Connor.” She pressed a button on her pad and a holographic vid hovered above it, bringing in a full tactical view of the dog fight that Connor had been in no more than ten minutes ago. “Start,” she said, and the hologram began to play. “Pause,” she muttered, and the vid halted. “Do you see what you did here?”
Connor, standing next to Eden, looked at the vid, seeing his starfighter in a wide turn, his opponent about to easily curl in behind him.
She pointed at the image. “What starfighter type were you flying?”
Connor gave her an odd look. “Thunderbird RR7.”
“The most important aspect of a dog fight with a Thunderbird is speed control.”
Connor rubbed Eden's back.
She shot him an angry look. “What are you doing?”
“Just rubbing some luck on ya',” he winked. “Looks like you need it.” He bit his lip. “I
knew what I was doing out there, Eden. You don't need to question my motives. I won.”
She sighed. “This isn't a joke, Connor. I'm your instructor, not your friend. Let me—”
Connor walked past her, smiling. He spoke over his shoulder, “I'm off to collect my winnings.”
“Get back here young man!” she said, watching him walk away. She stomped her foot. “I'm not—” She stopped herself, wondering why she was acting like his mother and not his senior officer.
Connor ignored her, not worrying about the repercussions he'd receive when he got back from the SGAG's judge's room where the blackshoes were awaiting his arrival—an arrival that would be sooner than they expected. It didn't matter, he was getting his money. He couldn’t care less about what they thought.
He rounded another corner, seeing happy cadets pass him, congratulating him.
“Where are you going?” a young man shouted, walking in the opposite direction down the hallway.
“To get my goods,” Connor laughed.
He gave Connor a thumbs up and kept walking, disappearing around a corner.
Connor made his way to a door labeled Judges. “Open,” he voice commanded the door. The door slid upwards and Connor walked in to see several astonished faces, except one.
“Sit,” said Fleet Admiral James Byrd, the admiral of Starship Brigantia and admiral to the entire Star Guild fleet. Admiral Byrd wasn't one of the judges.
What's he doing here?
The room was filled with men and women in black shoes and Star Guild dark blue uniforms, differing only according to their rank. They were standing