Several cadets shrugged in response.
“Sir, I’m not sure how long we’d have waited,” Nash replied. “True, it was frightening not being able to see, but I think the weave kept us together a bit longer. The weave showed us how we could communicate, though, so I think it was necessary.”
“True, but you forgot about your micomms. Jamming or no, get close enough and you can communicate through them.”
Arion considered that for a moment. Shreg it all, he’s right. Even with the interference, if we’d drawn a little closer we should have been able to talk.
“Also, the weave left you vulnerable,” Grunt continued. “But that’s what training sessions are for, to let you make mistakes here, before you make them out there.
“You did well, though. I’m happy with the progress you’ve made. You still have a ways to go yet, but we’ll get you there. Class is just about over, and I’ll be in my office later if any of you need to talk about anything. Class dismissed.”
Arion’s legs felt weak as he pulled off his helmet and attempted to stand.
“Oh, did I forget to mention that? Don’t worry, as you use Level Five more the effects of coming out of total immersion will lessen.”
Arion and Gokhead helped each other out of the room. After they cleared the door, a text message came in over Arion’s micomm from Gokhead. “Grunt left his micomm open. Want to see something interesting?”
Arion looked over his shoulder.
Arion whistled.
Gokhead shrugged.
UCSB DATE: 1001.325
Star System: Classified, UCSBA-13, Main Hangar
Ever since he’d received his acceptance letter to the academy, Gavit Markus had had just one dream, and this cycle, that dream would come true. Sitting in the pilot’s seat of his Splicer 5000, he looked around the cockpit with awe and wonder as it waited on the flight-deck, a perched bird of prey ready to strike. He ran his ungloved hands over the controls, memorizing the feel of each one. His fingers slipped along the cool darkness of the darkened silicasteel screens in front of him. He couldn’t even remember the last lover he’d caressed with such tenderness. He marveled at the glossy black panels. They lay dark and lifeless for now, but soon they would come to life, giving him a situational view unparalleled by his enemy. His eagerness to take the craft to the skies soared to such heights that he reached for the canopy control—one of the few physical switches in the cockpit. His finger hovered over the release and stopped. She’s not just my bird.
Pulling back his hand, Gavit slid forward in his seat and craned his neck to look at the empty seat behind him. No Splicer 5000 flew without its WSO, the second crew member who served as the real brains of the starfighter. Leaning back in his seat, Gavit looked up at the ceiling of the hangar high above him, then through it and the decks beyond, to the infinite sky surrounding them.
He imagined himself flying the fighter as he had done so many times before—the dream which topped all others. To fly amongst the stars in the fighter his uncle had helped develop, to fly and fight against those that would harm the UCSB, to do what only his uncle had done before, and to make him proud of his nephew.
“You might want to wait until you at least start the engines,” Matt called as he approached.
Blinking twice to pull himself back from his dream, Gavit turned to his best friend and WSO as he neared—his flightsuit on and helmet nestled under his arm.
“Closing up the canopy and putting on your helmet could also help,” Matt added as he reached the fighter. The helmet clinked against the reverse thruster housing as Matt set it down and locked eyes with his pilot. “Missed you at breakfast. Sheol, also missed you at wake up, where have you been?”
Gavit stroked the cockpit’s interior with a delicate touch, reveling in the coolness before he answered. “Couldn’t sleep, woke up about a hect before the rest of you guys, so I went for a walk. Then I grabbed breakfast and headed over here.”
Matt looked over the silver-trimmed midnight blue fighter that Gavit had spent the previous hect memorizing every square centimetra of. “Preflight completed?”
Gavit threw a thumb at the eight-barreled GP-77-8-C Plaser cannon over his shoulder, the immaculate barrels inside their protective faring shining in the light of the hangar. “Just need to pull the safety tags on the weapons and thrusters.”
Matt nodded and gave the fighter his own once-over. Gavit traced the steps in his mind. Over the last three tridecs, he’d gotten to know his craft almost too well. He started his inspection at the D-B-6-G Donvarion Bio Cannon that literally clutched the tip of the forward swept wing. The only weapon known to be produced by the enigmatic elder race, it was actually a biomechanical organism. The carapace barrel and outer casing radiated a greenish glow at its thinnest points. Within, the weapon processed a bacterium that formed a highly corrosive compound capable of melting a ship’s hull once fired. The organic-based weapon still sent a slight shiver down even Gavit’s spine. I swear that sensor eye blinks at me sometimes.
The sensor pods tipping each of the cruciform tail surfaces were as spotless as the rest of the fighter. These gave the fighter almost unobstructed views in all directions, and their Do not paint marking still emblazoned the sensor caps. Massive twin engines dominated the rear of the craft, their thrust direction rings immobile and awaiting activation.
Gavit reached his hand out to touch his name imprinted on the fuselage beside him. “Still hard to believe it’s ours, isn’t it?”
In sharp contrast to the Splicer-1000s they had flown before, each crew now had a craft to themselves. Most of these fighters would follow them to their first assignments, returning to the front lines as their cadet crews graduated. Unlike the squadrons, the Monstero Nach’s fighters were not depot refits, but brand new craft, which drew the ire of some other units.
“That it is,” Matt replied, grabbing his helmet off the thruster housing. “Glad we don’t have to share these with another crew.”
“Did you see how jealous Chertsin and his cronies were, when these showed up?” Gavit continued, scratching at the pristine headrest. “No depot refits for us, but factory fresh birds.”
“Having Tadeh Qudas as our squadron commander has its advantages. Hey, everyone else is on their way. We might as well preflight the cockpit before they get here,” Matt offered, tossing his helmet towards his seat before he climbed up the boarding ladder and into the cockpit. Thanks to the low gravity this close to the station’s centerline, Matt was able to settle into his seat before plucking his helmet from the air. He pulled it on as Gavit smiled and did the same. After plugging his suit’s umbilical into the seat and sealing it, a cool breeze of the fighter’s internal oxygen supply washed over his face.
Matt and Gavit settled into their positions and secured their restraints. Matt tapped the activation stud on his main display, and the fighter’s computer system purred to life. A holographic planet with a fighter racing into orbit around it, the Splicer Corp logo, appeared before Gavit as the computers booted up. Within a pulse, the holographic image disappeared, replaced by a checklist.
“Computers and Heads Down Displays,” Matt called out, reading the first item on the list.
“Check,” Gavit replied, activating the triangular secondary screens that flanked his main display.
“Canopy,” Matt continued, the silicasteel covering totating closed with a click.
Gavit smiled when the blue light on his left console confirmed the canopy seal. “Check.”
“Heads Up Displays?”
Gavit activated his HUDs, and a set of annotated circles and lines appeared around him, relaying
all his most needed flight information. “Check. Core status?”
Matt checked the three Photon Energizer Crystals, buried deep between the engines, which formed the heart of their crystallic fusion power source. “Power core is Blue.”
“Life Support Systems?”
“Life Support is at 99%, umbilical still attached. Master Arm switch?”
“Safe. Navigation Systems?”
“Check. Mission Computers?”
“Check. Sensors?
“On Standby. Throttle?”
“Off.”
“Undercarriage?”
“Deployed, always wondered why that was on a ground startup checklist.”
“Old habit, Gavit. We’ll need them down, if we bounce on takeoff. Fuel?”
Gavit shook his head. “100%. Yeah, I know, was just being smart. De-Grav Generators?”
“Well, don’t be. It doesn’t suit you,” Matt laughed. “Primed and ready. We are go for engine start.”
“Hold, wait for the others. Deck is not cleared,” Gavit ordered, halting the procedure as deck hands, fighter crew chiefs, flight crews and instructors crossed the deck to their individual craft.
“I see you beat us all here, Nach Zero Six,” Commander Pio-Tolis commented over the link, her helmeted face appearing in a tiny window of the main display.
“Yes, Ma’am, we are preflighted and ready to take off on your signal.”
“Good. Wait until your crew chief clears you, then power up and wait your turn for takeoff.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Matt replied. “Gavit, I’m going under the shroud. Try not to shake things up too much.”
Gavit’s patience wore thin as he watched others perform their walk-arounds and climb into their own cockpits for preflight checks. When the last canopy closed, Gavit turned to his crew chief who had just run into view in front of him. Anticipation growing, he glanced to both sides of his cockpit to confirm removal of exhaust locks from his retro thrusters, then back to his crew chief. Gavit waited for his signal until, locking eyes with him, the crew chief tapped the fighter on the nose and ran for cover.
“Umbilical detached,” Matt commented.
About time, Gavit thought. “We are go for engine start,” Gavit announced, pausing with bated breath and tapping the activation switch on his right console. “Engine One, start!”
“Engine one, up and spinning.”
Gavit’s toes curled as he tapped the second virtual switch. “Engine Two, coming up.” A resonating hum filtered through the fighter as the bar graph on the lower right of his console climbed up, filling Gavit with excitement. As the two Combined Cycle Plasma Drives synchronized, the hum all but disappeared.
“Engine Two is blue. We are go for taxi.” Switching over to the link, Matt called out, “Hangar Control, Monstero Nach Zero Six ready for taxi.”
“Copy that, Zero Six, you are clear. Taxi to tube three char, follow your guide beacons.”
“Zero Six copies, Control. Gavit, you are clear to taxi.”
Needing no more coaxing, Gavit slid the fighter across the guide beacons to his launch tube. He caught the eyes of several other crews, and the disbelief on their faces drew a smile to his own. Slackers. Within a few pulses, he settled the craft onto the deck in front of the launch tube. Giddy with excitement, he watched the doors open. A moment later, the skeletal launch-claw reached out of the darkness to grab hold of his fighter.
Rubbing his hands together, he took one last look at the hangar deck before the docking claw lifted them off it. Smiling, he closed his eyes as the claw pulled them into the dark launch tunnel. The view when he opened his eyes was nothing new. He’d lost count of the times he’d launched from these very tubes in his Splicer-1000. But this time was different. His pulse raced as he neared his dream. “Formation Lights.”
As the lights blinked to life, Matt projected the image of a set of reins in front of Gavit. “Now, don’t make me use those. Lights, check. Undercarriage?”
Gavit chuckled, tapping the controls. “Retracting.” The landing skids withdrew into the belly of the fighter and sealed against the rest of the surface. “Undercarriage retracted. I had an ex who used things like that on me, was kind of kinky. Shields?”
“Primed. Way too much information there,” Matt replied as he activated the fighter’s protective energy cocoon. Small hexagonal units behind the cockpit popped up and stood ready to fire positively charged particles from the port unit, and negatively charged from starboard, into the twin rotating magnetic fields spinning around the fighter. Gravitational deflectors winked on a moment later, jostling the fighter as they reacted against the tunnel walls. “Flight controls?”
Gavit test fired the directional control thrusters, and the docking claw resisted in order to keep the fighter centered in the tunnel. “Check. Sensors?”
“On and scanning. Sensor Imaging System coming on line.” The mini-holographic projector within the panels gave Gavit a nearly unobstructed view in all directions. The only blind spots left were those created by their wings, engines, and the seats on which he and his WSO sat. “S.I.S. fully activated,” Gavit commented, looking down at the closed doors through the floor. “God, I love this thing.”
“No kidding, you’ve had girlfriends you gave a lot less attention to. Launch Control, Monstero Nach Zero Six, ready for launch.”
“Copy that Six, your flight will launch in the third volley.”
Gavit rankled at that, but calmed his nerves as he felt the first flight launch, then the second, and the controller came back on the link.
“Flight Three, ready, steady, GO!!!”
Gavit had just enough time to press his head firm against the headrest. The catapult fired and pressed him back in his seat as the docking claw surged ahead and launched them down the tunnel. It was all Gavit could do not to hoot in delight. He wrapped his hands back around his throttle and stick, eyes locked on the docking claw indicator.
The indicator blinked twice and, with an echo of metal against metal behind him, Gavit felt the claw release. He eased the throttle open to maximum power, resisting the urge to goose the afterburner switch under his left thumb. Acceleration pressed him further into his seat before tripping his acceleration compensators. The safety devices increased their influence, limiting what he felt to three-Gs as a dull purple shimmer met his gaze, shields winking to life.
They shot free of the launch tube and Gavit let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Following the navigation grid projected onto his wrap-around HUD, Gavit guided his fighter into formation with his squadron mates as they orbited the academy. With practiced ease, he slid the craft into the slot position between Marda and Gokhead in Monstero Nach Zero Four and Porc and Nash in tail code MN-05. He didn’t bother with the autopilot, holding his position in the formation with expert care as they circled over the academy. Come on, give me something hard!
Three at a time, the squadron formed up. As Mikle and Acknit’s MN-13 joined at the rear of the squadron, Commander Pio-Tolis slid into lead position and the navigation markers changed, displaying a route out of the asteroid shell.
Surrounded on all sides by other fighters, Gavit guided MN-06 though the turn. They had practiced such maneuvers innumerable times in the simulator, but this was the real thing. Out here, a crash meant certain death in the cold darkness of space.
Glancing side to side and checking his sensor sphere, Gavit maintained position better than the others. “Zero Niner, Zero Six, watch your vector. You’re drifting too close,” Gavit called out, uncomfortable with Dibtel’s position.
“Copy that, Six. Gave it a little too much throttle, sorry,” Dibtel replied, Gadcon’s disembodied voice echoing Gavit’s command in the background.
Still used to maintaining his own communications and unwilling to allow anything to ruin his first flight in the Firehawk, Gavit scolded him. “Don’t be sorry, Niner! Just maintain your spacing! This is precision flight here!”
“All Units, Lead, cut the
chatter and concentrate on your flying. We have a profile to fly, cadets, and we are to stick to it,” Commander Pio-Tolis ordered.
“We had it handled over the WSO link,” Matt told Gavit.
The link went silent in Gavit’s ears as the squadron proceeded through the asteroid shell towards the slipstream vector to Optimus Teg. Gavit still found the view outside the shell a little strange. In the early cycles of the academy, Optimus Teg always waited just at the edge of their vision, a faint yellow orb in the distance. But their orbit was much closer to the local star, opening up the gap between the academy and the giant. Now Optimus Teg was little more than a dot in the void, no different to the unaided eye than the billions of stars that greeted them every cycle.
Gavit eyed the virtual navigation beacon. “Matt, Slipstream checklist.”
Matt’s own eagerness echoed through the shroud link. “Copy that.”
“Slipstream entry vector?”
“Check.”
“Destination Coordinates?”
“Locked.”
“Slipstream drive online?”
“Check.”
“Gravitational profile?”
“Online. Slipstream drive is locked onto target profile. Confirm entry vector.”
Gavit checked the position on their HUD against that of the virtual icon ahead of them. “Vector confirmed. We are go for slipstream.”
“Copy that. Lead, Zero Six, we are go for slipstream.”
“Anxious this cycle, aren’t we, Zero Six?” Commander Pio-Tolis replied over the link. “Good, all units prep and coordinate slipstream with Zero Six, maximum velocity.”
“Copy that,” each fighter’s WSO replied in turn over the main link.
“All units, Six, Navigation computers synchronized,” Matt reported, more as a courtesy to the pilots than the WSOs, as the last fighter’s navigation computer locked in with their own. “Positioning set, ready for slipstream on your mark, Lead.”
“This is Lead, Six, go for slipstream at your ready.”
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