by Tripp Ellis
“It wasn’t a big deal, really.”
“He saved the Federation. And you saved him. I’d say that’s kind of a big deal.”
Chloe grinned. “Okay. Maybe your right.”
Lily was a few years older, but she had a very young looking face. The two of them looked like they could still be in high school.
“Where are you from?” Chloe asked.
“Originally, I’m from West Hermosa. But I spent the last four years in Tricago. What about you?”
“Nova York.”
Sadness washed over Lily’s face. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you there during…”
Chloe nodded.
“That must have been horrible.”
“Yeah. It wasn’t the greatest,” Chloe said with a solemn look on her face.
“Did you lose anyone close?”
“My mom didn’t make it,” Chloe said in a somber tone.
“I’m sorry. I ask too many questions.”
“No. It’s okay. Really.”
“Let’s talk about something more uplifting. Like all the hot guys here.”
“I hadn’t really noticed.”
“Oh my God. You didn’t see that cute blond, what was his name… Kilmer?”
Chloe’s face twisted up like she smelled something bad. “You can’t be serious? You don’t think he’s cute, do you?”
Lily got suddenly self-conscious. “Well, I don’t know, maybe?”
“He’s a first class jerk. Not to color your impression of him or anything. I should just keep my mouth shut.”
“You’re just sharing valuable intel,” Lily said with a smile. “Us girls have to stick together.”
Chloe smiled back at her.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Let’s go grab some chow.”
That sounded like a great idea to Chloe. They stowed the rest of their gear and found their way to the chow hall. It was a standard cafeteria style mess hall with a row of food processors.
Chloe grabbed a tray, a plate, and some silverware and stepped to one of the machines. She tabbed through the menu items on the display. The machine was made by the same vendor who had supplied the Revenant, but these machines were more modern and had a wider variety of selections. They had just about everything. With the punch of a few buttons, you could order up a gourmet meal that would be 3-D printed right in front of you. Steak, potatoes, and sautéed mushrooms would do the trick for Chloe. She punched in her order and a few moments later, a magnificent meal was constructed on her plate. Proteins, carbohydrates, and fats were blended together and mixed with flavoring, coloring, and sweeteners. The mix was pumped through actuator nozzles and sprayed onto the plate, taking the shape of a juicy steak. It looked, smelled, and tasted almost identical to the real thing.
Chloe and Lily took a seat at one of the tables with some of the other pilots from the Revenant. They dug into their meal like a pack of wild dogs that hadn’t been fed in a week.
“I don’t know what it is about slide-space travel, but it turns my stomach into a bottomless pit.” Lily said.
“Me too.” Chloe added an extra pinch of seasoning to her steak. It was juicy and tender. And almost as good as the real thing.
Chloe’s eyes scanned the cafeteria as she ate, trying to size up the cadets. There were 20 students in all. They were the best new pilots from all across the Federation.
Kilmer strolled by the table and sneered. “Who wants to take bets on how fast Johnson gets kicked out of the program?”
Chloe’s eyes narrowed at him. If they were lasers, they would’ve cut right through him.
Lily perked up. “I’ll take that bet. Matter of fact, I bet she takes the trophy.”
“Oh, you’re on,” Kilmer said with glee. “What should we make it? An even thousand credits?”
“Lily swallowed hard. It was a lot of money for her. “You’re on.”
Kilmer laughed and strolled to the next table. Lily turned to Chloe and whispered, “Don’t let me down.”
“I won’t.” Chloe smiled, but she wished Lily hadn’t taken that bet. But it did make her feel good to have a friend that stood up for her.
“What do you say we hit the Officers’ Club and grab a drink after this?”
”That sounds good to me,” Harrison said.
Chloe looked uneasy. “I’m only 19. I don’t think they’ll serve me.”
Lily scoffed. “It’s an Officers’ Club on a training facility in the middle of nowhere. They’re going to serve you.”
13
The Marines
"Venom, this is 2-2 Alpha.” Kyle shouted into his comm link, assuming the callsign of 2nd squad. The clatter of gunfire rang in his ears. "Venom, this is 2-2 Alpha.”
“2-2 Alpha, go ahead,” a voice crackled back.
“Troops in contact. I need a fire mission ASAP. Grid coordinates 115813. Danger close. How copy?”
Kyle waited a painfully long time for a response.
“That's a negative, 2-2 Alpha.”
“We're not going to make it out of this valley without air support.”
“Sorry, 2-2 Alpha. I’m just relaying the message.”
“Give me actual. Now!” Kyle was furious. The veins in his neck were bulging. His heart was thundering in his chest. The Proxima flu was the farthest thing from his mind.
A few moments later, the LT’s voice crackled back over the line. “2-2 Alpha, be advised there will be no close air support."
“Sir, we are taking heavy enemy fire from an elevated position. We are dealing with an unknown threat. 1st squad is gone.”
“Which is exactly why I'm not sending my only vehicle into the line of fire. You got a straw? You need to suck it the fuck up. You boys need to man up and push the enemy back. This isn’t the Girl Scouts. Venom out.”
“Goddammit!”
“Just once I’d like to see the LT out here in the shit,” Koontz said.
Carson flashed a grim smirk. Then he swung his weapon over the top of the boulder and fired into the fog, aiming at the origin of the glowing orange bolts. Maybe he’d get lucky and hit one of those bastards.
The bolts were spreading out, coming from multiple points on the ridge. Kyle guessed that the enemy was trying to flank them. That’s what he’d try to do.
“We can’t fall back,” Murphy said. “We’d get sliced and diced on that narrow path.”
An energy bolt whizzed past Vasquez. It didn’t hit him, but it was close enough to sear his flesh. He screamed in agony as his skin blistered an peeled around his face and neck. He flopped to the ground, writhing in pain.
“Corpsman!” Kyle yelled.
Corpsman O’Leary was cowering behind a boulder about 15 yards away. He was pinned down under heavy fire. He waited for a break in the action, then bolted toward Vasquez. Orange energy bolts rocketed through the air all around him. He sprinted as fast as he could, then dove for cover as he reached the fallen Marine. O’Leary was completely unscathed.
Kyle’s jaw dropped in awe. The odds of surviving a run like that were about the same as winning the lottery. O'Leary was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.
"Just hang in there, buddy,” O'Leary said. “You're going to be all right." He reached into his med kit and pulled out a pain pen. It was a one-time use shot of Neuromodix—a powerful nerve desensitizing drug. It completely blocked all pain impulses to the brain. But it was a highly addictive substance, if abused. Tolerance and dependency could develop quickly.
Almost instantly, the searing pain that Vasquez felt vanished. His body relaxed and he stopped screaming. O'Leary applied a regenerative compound to his skin to soothe the burn. With any luck, Vasquez would heal in a few days, possibly without a disfiguring scar.
Carson kept firing into the milky sky. The bolt locked forward—the magazine empty. He pressed the mag release button. The magazine dropped out and he replaced it with another one, slamming it into the well. Then he pressed the bolt catch and kept firing. He moved with precision, and the maneuver
seem to happen in the blink of an eye.
Carson had already gone through two magazines. At this rate the squad was going to be out of ammunition before long.
Through the fog, he heard the unmistakable sound of the Vantage’s Hughes & Kessler engines. The low rumble boomed off the canyon walls. A grin curled up on Kyle's lips.
A familiar voice crackled over the comm line. “Did someone call for a fire mission?"
“Hell yes," Kyle said.
“Don't worry, 2-2 Alpha. Big Tex is here to save the day.”
"Roger that."
Lieutenant Commander Bobby Tex Wilson was a good ol’ boy from Wiscova, New Earth. He had never been to Texana. And he certainly hadn’t been to Texas. No one had been back to Earth in over two centuries. But he loved old Westerns, and he could quote every John Wayne movie verbatim. He had a slow southern drawl and was rarely seen without a cowboy hat. It wasn't in regulation, but the LT couldn't do much about it. He was a Navy pilot. His job was to get the Marines where they were going, and provide support. He had the final say about what happened to his ship, no matter whose mission it was.
Kyle could hear several Firestorm rockets launch from the Vantage. They streaked through the haze and blasted the ridge-line. Kyle couldn't see the explosions directly, but the detonations illuminated the entire valley with a warm amber glow. Kyle heard the Vantage rip through the sky and circle back around for another run.
“Much obliged, Tex,” Kyle said.
“I ain’t going to let no 2nd lieutenant tell me what I can or can’t do with my bird." Tex launched another round of missiles, blasting the hillside. The explosions rumbled through the canyon, rattling the boulders. Kyle could feel the vibrations under his feet. The comforting amber glow dispersed through the haze.
But this time, the enemy returned fire. Blazing bolts of energy vaulted into the sky. All it took was one hit. The Vantage erupted into a ball of flames. Kyle could hear the horrid sound of metal shredding apart. The Hughes & Kessler engines sputtered. What was left of the fuselage plummeted to the ground, crunching into a twisted carcass on the hillside.
Kyle’s eyes widened, and he gulped with fear. His heart leapt into his throat. “Big Tex, this is 2-2 Alpha, over?”
Carson knew there wasn’t going to be a response, but he kept trying.
14
Chloe
Chloe felt like she was going to die. She was gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. She was a few minutes into the morning run and was seriously regretting the previous night’s trip to the Officers’ Club. She had one too many Flaming Phantoms, and she could taste breakfast creeping up in the back of her throat. Her temples were throbbing and it felt like an elephant was standing on her head.
Cash jogged past her like she was standing still. “What’s the matter Ensign? You cadets have a little too much fun at Afterburners?”
Chloe could barely mutter a response.
“Maybe you turds will figure out you’re here to learn something. Not to party.”
“I’m here to learn, sir.”
Cash shook his head. He’d heard it all before. He kept running and led the pack. He was in better shape than any of these kids. Kilmer was the only one who finished the run in the allotted time.
The worn-out cadets were hunched over on their knees, sucking wind on the landing pad, trying to maintain some type of formation.
Cash marched up and down the line. “You people are pathetic. If you can’t complete this run in under 16 minutes by next week, I will performance drop you. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir,” the cadets responded.
“Get into the classroom. Move it.”
The cadets hustled into the main structure and filed in the classroom. They removed their helmets and took their seats.
“I know you’re all wondering what the hell running 2 miles in SK-7 flight suits has to do with becoming a great pilot. But if you get shot down and find yourself stranded on some alien planet somewhere, you’ll be thankful you have the conditioning to survive.” Cash surveyed the class. “I’d like to introduce to you the CO of this outpost, Commander Tom Scott. He’s one of the finest fighter pilots in the fleet. Pay attention. You might learn something.”
Commander Scott stepped into the classroom. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” the class responded.
“We’re going to jump right into the deep end. You all know how to fly, or you wouldn’t be here. The purpose of this Academy is to instill in you the critical decision-making skills that will help you excel in the heat of battle. There is no time to think out there. You must be able to act on instinct. Command and control of the spacecraft must become second nature. It must be an extension of yourself. You can’t hesitate or be distracted by fumbling for controls. A split second is all it takes to end up as space debris.” Commander Scott strolled between the rows of desks. “I know you are all anxious to get into the cockpit of a Stingray, but before we let you fly a space craft that costs a billion credits, you’re going to have to prove yourself. As advanced as the Stingray is, you may encounter enemy fighters that are more advanced. You’ll need to be able to outmaneuver a faster and better opponent. I know we all like to think that we are the most advanced civilization in the galaxy, but that’s just not the case. And there are plenty of unknown life forms out there. Today, you’ll be flying Z 71 Mustangs. And you’ll be going up against the latest Stingrays.”
There was an audible gasp among the students. It wasn’t a fair matchup.
“Not only that, you’ll be flying against myself and Instructor Cash, and a squadron of the finest pilots in the galaxy.” Commander Scott had a devilish grin on his face.
The cadets all knew what they were up against.
“You’ll be flying in pairs deep into the Otari Nebula. You’ve each been assigned a patrol grid, and the details of your mission have been transferred to your PDUs.”
Chloe pulled her PDU from a pouch in her flight suit. She began studying the instructions.
“Your mission will be to patrol the region and intercept any hostile forces. As with all combat situations, there are no rules. Good luck out there.”
The cadets scrambled to their fighters. Each cadet had been assigned a particular craft that was prepped and waiting on the tarmac.
Chloe locked her helmet into place and the suit pressurized as she ran toward her Z 71. The Mustangs were older than the Phantoms. There was no way one of these things was going to be able to keep up with a Stingray. Chloe climbed into the cockpit and pulled the canopy shut. She pressed buttons and flicked switches to power up the craft. The control panel illuminated with an amber glow.
The Z 71’s were built before the First Verge War. They belonged in a museum. They weren’t as sleek and angular as the Stingrays, but they had elegant curves. They were true classics, and Chloe appreciated the opportunity to fly one. She engaged the vertical thrusters and lifted off the tarmac. She could instantly feel that the joystick wasn’t quite as responsive as a modern fighter. It had a little play, and wasn’t as twitchy. It was going to take some getting used to.
The squadron of cadets elevated into the sky, and each pilot paired off with their wing man.
Chloe throttled up, and angled the Mustang through the upper atmosphere—there wasn’t much of it. Despite its age, the Z 71 had power, no doubt about it. The thrust slammed her against her seat and pulled the skin on her face. For an instant she wondered if a lifetime of excessive acceleration was going to give her more wrinkles. If so, it was a price worth paying to enjoy this kind of speed.
Soon, the NSSWC was a tiny spec behind her. The Otari Nebula lay ahead. It was a stunning array of colors that transitioned from blue to green to purple. You weren’t going to get these kinds of views sitting behind a desk, punching numbers into a computer.
Lily flew alongside her in formation. Her callsign was Bananas. Chloe wasn’t exactly sure what that was in reference to. She hoped that Lily hadn’t earned the name becau
se she was bat-shit crazy.
“Proceed to sector 23115.27,” Chloe said. “Keep your head on a swivel. There’s no telling where Commander Scott is going to be. They don’t call him the Ghost for nothing.”
“Roger that!”
They entered the hazy nebula, and visibility was greatly reduced. It also seemed to interfere with the sensors. Long-range communications became garbled at best, and impossible at worst. Even communicating with Lily was difficult. The comm line was filled with static and distortions.
“The game just got a lot tougher,” Chloe said.
“Say again?”
Chloe repeated the phrase and Lily was finally able to understand her.
Their patrol route took them to the middle of an asteroid belt. It provided a plethora of places for Commander Scott and his squadron to hide. Chloe could see why the NSSWC relocated here. There were endless training scenarios that could take place in an environment like this.
She glanced to her scanner—there were no enemies in sight. But the immense amount of interference over the comm line led her to believe that the scanners were probably experiencing the same difficulties. Her blue eyes scanned the milky nebula in all directions. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of movement in the haze. “Inbound bogeys, 2 o’clock high.”
15
The Marines
The air was filled with the screeching howls of the enemy. It was like some type of victory celebration. Carson’s face twisted in anger. “Big Tex, 2-2 Alpha, over?”
Still no response.
The mangled wreckage burned, billowing black smoke into the milky haze.
The fighting had stopped. No longer were orange bolts of energy dotting the sky. It seemed the enemy was going to take their victory and retreat. Carson could hear the howls fade into the distance. All that was left was the wind and the rain. With any luck, Big Tex’s assault took out a few of them.
