In the Blink of an Eye

by Mark Dutkiewicz

  Grabbing his helmet Jeff turned to head for the mayhem of the flight deck. James was quickly at his shoulder sharing encouragement. “We’ve been placed on second alert status with the Tophatters, which means we’ll be sitting in the tubes at the ready in case things get too hairy for the interceptors. Sunshine confirmed we’d most likely be scrambled to pick up close cover when the strike teams are on their way back in.”

  “So we’re babysitting the boat,” Jeff said as the two trotted through the gauntlet of personnel racing about the hanger.

  “Think of it more as dipping your toes in the pond.”

  Pausing at the ladder of his razor Jeff looked at James. “Whatever you call it, I’m a little relieved. I’m not sure I’m quite ready to go toe to toe with the Drac.”

  James gave his shoulder a hefty squeeze. “I don’t think anyone’s quite ready Knight. Ever.”

  Thanking James for the kind words Jeff turned and climbed the ladder. Dropping into the cockpit a crewman followed him up and made short work of securing his domed helmet. As the canopy was lowered, Jeff made himself busy running through his pre-flight checks. The cockpit rocked gently as the tug positioned the razor into line for the next available launch tube. Finishing up his checks Jeff gazed through the polymer capsule surrounding him and nervously listened to the chatter wafting over the radio.

  “Jammer, we have confirmed three Drac heavies’ now at twenty-thousand klicks, Y five-thousand, Z minus fifteen-thousand,” Tungsten’s flight control relayed to the interceptors.

  “Roger that. Twenty-thousand klicks bearing zero one point zero seven. I see them.”

  “Be advised enemy diamond formation. Looks like they’re covering a carrier out there.”

  “Copy Tungsten. Wildcats go weapons free. Be ready for incoming.”

  “Wonder why there aren’t more of them?” someone asked openly.

  “Probably didn’t even know we’re out here. The bastards are spread thin trying to track us. Let’s just make sure they can’t report back”

  “Jammer, Tungsten. Relay from Victoria, there’s a flock of toads on intercept.”

  “They just hit my scanner. Okay boys, let’s give them some bruises. Missile strike on my mark.”

  So absorbed in the dialogue Jeff, embarrassingly so, was caught by surprise when the control tower called down, “Second alert scramble. Odd tubes port, even starboard.”

  The existing chatter as the interceptors initiated contact with their quarry was immediately relegated to a buzz in the back of his head as Jeff quickly cycled through the final launch checks. The launch indicator turned green and in a heartbeat his razor began its wild acceleration down the tube. The razor erupted from the hull twisting away from the large carrier and moved into formation with the rest of the squadron.

  “Diamondback Alpha and Beta flights,” Simmons grunted over the channel, “rendezvous on fleet flank just outside perimeter. Standard two by two cover formation and fill holes left by Tophatters. Gamma and Delta flights keep tight on flotilla. You’ll be assisting the Yellow Jackets from Victoria.”

  “Copy Sunshine,” James answered his voice crackling through the static. “Gamma flight spread out for lateral guard.”

  Jeff moved his fighter to form up on Joanne’s wing and Gamma flight began its first of many slow laps around fleet. Just as he leveled his plane, the almost forgotten chatter from the Wildcats returned to his attention in a bedlam of whooping and hollering. The Wildcats, or at least their missiles, had made contact with the enemy. The jubilation was short lived. Sudden shrieks of pain and terror soon followed. Their quarry had teeth. Jeff could only wonder at the frenzy taking place some ten-thousand kilometers away.

  “Three toads breaking wide. Six-Pack form up.”

  “I’ve got five. I’ve got five.”

  “I see them.”

  The chaotic jumble of rapid fire commands mixed with the sounds of men dying was unsettling. The eerie silence of space only added to the weight. James wasn’t lying. Drones aren’t the real thing.

  “Crap this guy is good. Coming around.”

  “Do you see him?”

  “Yeah I see him.”

  “Shoot him!”

  “I can’t shoot him I’ve got no fucking tone!”

  Jeff gripped his controls tightly. His palms began to sweat inside the insulated fabric of his gloves. He shifted the razor, maintaining formation, and observed three of the fleet’s heavy cruisers descending on the distant carnage. A blue sheen from the ship’s massive ion thrusters reflected off their hulls while powerful deck guns soundlessly stirred. The cannons swept in wide arcs to take careful aim at their targets concealed in a distant field of spherical fiery blasts.

  The agonizing sounds of that distant firefight continued unabated over the radio. The unnerving noise continually pierced his skull and contributed to a growing sense of unease. “Jesus Christ. Fuck! He’s all over—,” a frantic pilot’s transmission cut out. The sound of the static itself was deafening. The constant stream of death filtering across the frequencies left a sour pit in Jeff’s stomach. No few times during the battle did he lose his train of thought and almost collide with another fighter. The first few were answered with quick grunts or curses. Later he was rewarded with harsh words and, when he could see them, obscene gestures. “Watch it rookie,” or “Who the fuck taught you how to fly?” or “Knight you blind shit,” were amongst the nicer admonitions.

  “Jammer to all wings,” the radio crackled after what felt like hours of fierce fighting, “break off attack. Gunboats in range!”

  From his vantage point Jeff could only make out the disks from cruisers engines. That is until the fireworks started. Even at that distance he squinted when the ships powerful beam cannons fountained destruction into space. Blurred bars crossed his vision, an afterimage of the righteous offence the powerful craft meted out. Scant seconds passed after the visceral onslaught before a series of explosions began peppering the distant star field. The celestial display culminated in a supernova like flash of intense light. It was quickly followed by three more brilliant balls and a raucous bedlam of cheering that threatened to overwhelm the radio.

  The celebration died off quickly and Jammer was once again on the radio. “Sunshine, bring up two flights help us clean out any stragglers. Relay from Nightdippers, they’re heading back to Victoria.”

  “Copy Jammer. Okay boys, you heard the man. Time to mop up. Skid take Gamma and Delta back home.”

  “Copy Sunshine, Delta flight on me,” James chirped over the channel.

  Rolling his fighter Jeff followed the flight into landing formation taking up the tail position. In the distance he spied the remnants of Victoria’s Nightdippers corkscrewing into their own pattern. Tapping some controls, he zoomed the sensor image in. Many of the planes bore wounds from the deadly encounter. Long scorch marks marring the once pristine alloys of the sleek craft. A number looked to barely have enough power to even complete the approach. Even in their rough appearance, several planes were waggling their wings. No doubt the pilots boasting to each other of their prowess. The radio still carried the grunts and gasps of the now dwindling combat that Sunshine was now embroiled in. Thankfully the terrifying shrieks had abated leaving him to relax.

  The worst was over and a landing approach was nothing new to him. Even so, coming to his senses brought with it the embarrassment of knowing how he’d handled himself this day. He admonished himself for the lapse. Being nowhere near the danger zone he felt his foibles had no place in his mission. James seemed to share his opinion. Before his boots even hit the deck after landing the lieutenant was there wearing a particularly sour expression.

  “Skid I—” Jeff began to say.

  “Save it!” James rasped. “Get your ass cleaned up and meet me in the ready room.” That was all he said. The man curtly turned on a heel and stalked across the busy flight deck.

  CHAPTER 7:

  TAKING YOUR LUMPS

  The ready room was already a f
amiliar place to Jeff. He’d just never been called into it for discipline. It resembled a college lecture hall with about twelve rows of stadium seating. As Jeff stepped in James was already standing at the center podium presiding over the room actively scribbling into a notebook.

  James barely stole a glance at Jeff before absently saying, “Take a seat Lieutenant.”

  Taking a relaxing breath Jeff straightened his jacket and determinedly strode down the aisle. Choosing a seat in the front row he settled himself as best he could in the high backed chair. Minutes passed. Adjusting himself the chair creaked. It was the only sound heard over the scratching of James pencil, and echoed loudly in the all but empty room. Jeff was no stranger to being in hot water. But he hadn’t recalled being made to sit quietly since sometime in middle school. The sound of the pencil being dragged across the paper was grating on his nerves and he idly wondered if this was part of his punishment.

  James remained bent at his work never speaking a word louder than a quiet mutter. That is until Jeff reached into his pocket for his cigarettes. He was tersely told, “Don’t even think about it.” Scritch, scritch, scritch, the pencil rasped. Resigned to what would be an extended wait, Jeff leaned back stretching his legs out to cross his ankles before him. Scritch, scritch, scritch, the pencil continued turning into a strange beat over the steady hum in the air from the ships engines. Without realizing it, Jeff began drumming his fingers in time to the makeshift tune.

  The steady repetitive sound lulled Jeff into a trance which was broken when James announced loudly, “Sunshine!” Jeff jumped to his feet turning at attention. Catching a glimpse of the ships clock he found it’d been two hours since he first sat down.

  “Back on your ass Knight, I’ll deal with you in a moment,” Simmons growled. Gesturing towards the far corner James nodded closing his notebook and heeled the man across the room. They huddled there for a time speaking quietly. Jeff was sure he made out mild laughter under the hushed voices. He leaned forward on the chairs attached desktop straining to hear until the commander glanced back at him. His eyes briefly cut to slits before turning back to continue the conversation.

  Closing his eyes, Jeff dropped his head back. Well, there goes your career, he thought dejectedly. I’ll be joining Chuckles at some outpost now. Where’d they hide her again? SD two something? The fancy was short lived. “On your feet Knight!” Simmons barked making Jeff scramble to comply. “Heard you had a couple of…incidents while flying cover today,” he began. “I trust this was an isolated case. I don’t like being wrong about someone and it sure as hell doesn’t look good in my reports.”

  “Sir,” Jeff said formally, “it was an inexcusable lapse in judgment. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damn right it won’t happen again! You’re relieved combat status until I say otherwise.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing Lieutenant! Skid, give this sad sack his new assignment.” Simmons took a long look at Jeff before striding deliberately from the room sharing one final disgusted grunt.

  Jeff, feeling humiliated to his toes, waited for the commander to leave before quietly saying, “Skid I—”

  “Don’t try to explain Knight,” James cut him off. “This was expected.”

  A perplexed look painted Jeff’s face. “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t.” James flashed a wry smile. “Knight. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is ready for the shit that’s out there. We expected more time to groom you. A lot more time. Did you honestly think we’d send an untested pilot out to mix it up in the first sortie we came across? You’ve been on board for barely under a year and have had your wings for far less than that.”

  “This was a test?” Jeff asked incredulously.

  “More of a hazing,” James laughed. “Sunshine likes to get a feel for his new pilots. You already know simulations don’t cut it. But with this accelerated training schedule he didn’t have time to really put you through the wringer. Even if you were you’d still be assigned close cover patrol until he was happy.

  “Space combat is a very disjointed experience,” James continued leaning back against the podium. “The silence can be overwhelming. Especially when the only thing you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Combine that with those blood curdling screams and…well, you get the picture. It’s a lot to get used to. Sunshine wanted to see what kind of mistakes you make. How you deal with it. What your adjustments will be. Everyone snaps their first time out, it’s unavoidable. It’s what you do afterward that’s important. Do you wash out? Turn in your wings? Or do you stand tall and take your lumps like a man.”

  “Okay. So…what’s next?”

  “Starting tomorrow you’ll be paired with a veteran pilot for routine fleet patrol. It’ll give you time to get acquainted with deep space and deal with any nerves you may have if the Drac suddenly pay us a visit. Essentially you go through the motions until Sunshine lets you off the leash, and you don’t have to worry about little mistakes. By the time he’s comfortable you’ll be ready.”

  “Gonna be hard to sit around waiting…wondering if I’ve got what it takes,” Jeff mumbled sullenly.

  “Don’t be such a martyr,” James scoffed with a chortle. “It takes time. Shit. You should have seen me my first time. Everything I knew was from the Pacific Fleet. The silence out there. It was just…deafening. I was so disoriented and shook up from the combat I couldn’t remember the landing procedure. Cemented my handle to boot,” he laughed. “Skidded the length of the tunnel. Took maintenance two weeks to pound out the ruts I put in the deck.”

  “Well, at least that’s not hanging around my neck.” Jeff managed a weak smile.

  “Ugh,” James grunting at Jeff’s continued somber tone. “Of all the pilots on this tub, why’d I get stuck mentoring the one that shows incredible talent but turns into a whiney little bitch when things don’t go as planned.”

  “Hey!” Jeff crowed. “I’m no whiney bitch!”

  Grabbing him by the shoulders James smiled. “Sure you are Knight. But under the circumstances I guess I can’t blame you.” Whipping Jeff about-face he gave him a shove up the aisle. “Go have a drink and relax.”

  Jeff took a few stumbling steps catching himself on a chair. He briefly glanced back at James who playfully made a shooing motion while mouthing go to him. Looking at his boots a moment he shook his head. “For what it’s worth,” he said turning back to James, “thanks for giving it to me straight. Doesn’t help the sting but—”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” James mocked cutting him off. “I promise by tomorrow morning you’ll be seeing things much differently. Now get out of here, you’re depressing me.”

  Jeff didn’t know how to respond other than a mumbled, “All right.” Turning he drug his feet a little on the trip to the hatch. Stepping through he waited for the doors to hiss close behind him before crossing his arms and leaning back on the cool metal with a sigh.

  “How ya feeling Knight?” Joanne’s voice startled him.

  His head whipped over to look at her and once again he was chastising himself for being jumpy. “Like a colossal ass,” he grated in answer.

  “Yeah, I figured as much. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “I don’t know. I think I just want to get in my rack.”

  “Oh pish,” she scoffed, “go mope on your own time. I want a drink. And so do you.”

  “Not going to take no for an answer huh?”

  “Knight, if I’m going to be stuck flying patrol with you for the next month, then you’re going to have a fucking drink with me.” Stepping up to him she firmly punctuated, “Got it?” with a stiff two fingered jab.

  “Sunshine got something against you too?” a hint of bile tinged his voice.

  “Shit no,” she laughed. “I drew the short straw on that one. Skid gave me the assignment before your ass was even cleared for flight duty.”

  “I really think—” he began before Joanne cut
him off saying, “I really think,” in a mock whine. “Stow it Knight, we’re getting a drink and you’re going to like it.”

  Grabbing his arm, she all but dragged him down the hall. He ultimately succeeded in wrenching the limb free and began straightening his jacket. A mischievous smile bloomed on her face as if to accuse him of not appreciating her affections. It was followed by a failed attempt at conversation. The words simply washed over him as his mind churned. It was simple navigation, he thought. Shit, it’s just formation flying! How the hell could I fuck that up? All that time in simulation, with all the crap they did to distract me. And I can’t even handle combat I’m not even involved in? Some pilot I am dad.

  Lost in the self-loathing thoughts he was barely aware of their arrival at the Pilots Lounge before someone called out sarcastically, “Hey look who walked in. It’s Apple Bottom and Drifter!” The culprit wasn’t hard to find. His raucous laughter at his own joke quickly drew Jeff’s eye to three aging pilots. By their looks they had more drink in them than they should have.

  “Don’t listen to them Knight,” Joanne soothed. “Just a bunch of washed up jocks trying to relive the glory days.”

  “Gonna fight his battles for him too Apple?” the man harassed and stood up unsteadily. About a hand shorter than Jeff, his once dark hair had more than a few streaks of grey giving it a salt and pepper appearance. His face was leathery accentuating the dark circles and crow’s feet that ringed his eyes. Though they held the glaze of too much drink, the experience behind them was impossible to miss. This was a combat veteran that, bad attitude or not, earned him some liberties with the crew.

  “Shut up Six-Pack, you’re drunk,” someone in the crowd shouted.