by SF Edwards
Row upon row of dagger shaped teeth greeted him as Joda bounded up the ladder towards him, his four eyes wide. “Why did you not report that the damage was this severe? You should have returned to base,” Joda scolded.
Blazer stammered hard, staring at the Lodran sure that he was about to be eaten. The emotion of the accident descended upon him like a tsunami pounding the shore.
Joda backed off, reading the fear emanating off his student.
“Why didn’t you return when you saw how severe the damage was?” he asked more calmly.
“I didn’t. I didn’t see that the damage was that bad. The sensors didn’t show any of that and it hadn’t looked nearly as severe right after it had happened.”
Joda looked down at Blazer’s main screen. It was off but a maintainer handed him a macomm so he could link into the trainer’s computer. Sure enough, the readings didn’t indicate any of the wing’s current damage beyond the drooped tip. The only readings out of the ordinary were two indicators of opened panels and a note regarding higher than normal stress around the cannon mount. However, the stress was still within normal limits.
Joda looked back down at the wing. “The sensor relay must have been damaged or knocked offline by the initial impact,” Joda commented. Even with the damage and the buckled panels, something still didn’t make sense to him. He clicked a soft button on the macomm to begin a diagnostic on the damage detection system. “Out!” he commanded and backed down the ladder before Blazer followed him.
Blazer stood next to his damaged trainer while the rest of his squadron gathered around staring at the destruction. Even Zithe looked on in awe, stealing occasional glances at Blazer to see if he was all right. True Zithe wanted leadership of the team but he wanted to earn it by defeating Blazer for the honor. He didn’t want it handed to him because of a mistake that removed Blazer entirely.
Arion was the first to approach him. “Are you all right?”
Blazer nodded while Seri walked up opposite Arion. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be OK. Not so sure about my trainer though,” he responded. He looked at the damage from the ground.
The stress fractures in the armored skin ran all across the wing ending right around the wing joint. Blazer felt a tiny bit of luck at that. It seemed like it hadn’t damage the engine buried in the wing root at least. Please God, don’t let the internal damage match the exterior. The modular design of the Splicer line would allow the maintainers to swap out the wing if the damage didn’t go into the engine compartment. If the mounting points or the engine were messed up he was in for a world of hurt.
Silence flowed out across the deck a moment later. Proceeding towards them from one of the personnel lifts, replaced by the rhythmic clicking of heels – no, not heals, claws, the hind claws of a predator to be exact. The assemblage recognized the sound and turned to make room for Chief Flind’s approach.
The massive saurian Rimdook strode up to the broken trainer. He examined it before he even came to a stop with his hand resting on his sidearm while he looked over the craft. His tail moved back and forth with slow, angered strokes when he followed the stress fractures. Then he turned to face Blazer. His artificial eye still examined the trainer while his natural eye focused on the young cadet before him.
Blazer felt sure he looked into his own doom as he stared into that unyielding black eye while the foul smell of the Chief’s breath flowed over him. The scales around his nose and eyes crinkled in disgust as he looked at Blazer before he turned back to the trainer. He opened up one of the popped panels to look inside before spinning about to face Blazer again.
Blazer shivered in his sweat-soaked flight suit. The Chief leaned in close and took a whiff of him from head to toe. How does my fear smell chief? Blazer did his best to stand his ground under that cold reptilian gaze. Focusing on the skin around the chief’s eye and nostril crinkle in disgust and anger, Blazer nearly lost it when he spoke.
“My kind used to eat your kind,” Chief Flind threatened. He turned away for a moment to look at the damaged wing again then back at Blazer, lowering his head down to eye level with the Anulian cadet. “We had stronger stomachs back then.”
That’s no idle threat. During the short and bloody unification war that had ended with the Rimdook entering the Confederation, Rimdook raiding parties had become infamous for eating their captives. It was a matter of pride for a Rimdook warrior. It was proof of how strong they were in comparison to their enemies. It was also widely known that even modern Rimdooks still preferred to kill their meals while they ate them though they swore that they no longer hunted or ate other sentients.
The chief looked at the fighter once again then to its crew chief. “Assessment?”
“The wing is a total loss. Not sure on the engine yet. The fuselage,” the crew chief looked over the craft again a moment. “I’ll know more after we’ve dismounted the wing and engine.”
The chief walked up to the fighter before spinning about and brought his tail a hair’s breadth from Blazer’s face. Intimidation move, he wants to show his strength and his control. He could just as easily have dropped me to the deck.
The chief reached out and touched the beaten trainer. He pinged
He pinged the metal with an outstretched claw, looking the craft up and down. Scanning it with his artificial eye, he surveyed the joints between wing and engine and engine and fuselage.
“The wing is a write off. The entire plane might be.” The crew chief looked at him perplexed.
“Haul it over to one of the overhaul hangars. We may have to dismantle and salvage what we can,” Flind finished with a growl.
The chief spun about again dropping down to look Blazer in the eye. His foul breath billowed out. “Cadet Vaughnt, you are aware of the punishment levied on a cadet for damaging one’s trainer?”
Blazer nodded, holding back his trembling fear.
“You effectively belong to me. If your negligence led to that trainer being a complete loss,” he looked it over again, “then you can kiss your commission goodbye.”
Blazer swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The chief looked at the trainer once again before turning back to Blazer and rose up to his full height. “You will work to the schedule I assign. The little free time you once had is gone. For your own sake, I hope you are a quick study or can study while you work. But if your work is not to my standards I will wash you out faster than you destroyed that craft.”
The lump in Blazer’s throat made it hard to swallow. “Yes, sir.”
The chief looked across the deck and back down at Blazer then at the crowd gathered around them. “One of my people will come to collect you before your classes. You have a lot of work to do.”
The chief stepped away from Blazer then wheeled about, his pistol in hand. Cadets and deck personnel dove for cover as Blazer held his ground and forced his eyes to stay open as the chief pulled the trigger. Three shots rang out slamming into the upper hydrogen scoop/cooling vent. The rock jammed between two of the vanes, shattered and fell from the spot as if in slow motion in the low gravity.
“The landing gear on that side should be salvageable at a minimum, the rest, I don’t know,” and Chief Flind stormed away.
Joda walked up to Blazer as he stood there in a state of shock. “You got lucky cadet.”
Blazer looked up at him with a questioning gaze.
“You got lucky. Normally Chief Flind is not so lenient. You either impressed him, or…” he went on clutching at the maintainer’s macomm in his hand. His rear set of eyes crinkled with a look of doubt and uncertainty.
Blazer wasn’t sure what to make of that but knew better than to ask before Joda pulled away. The questioning look in his back eyes disappearing.
“I will transmit your debriefs to you shortly. Head to the rest of your classes,” Joda told Blazer. “Dismissed!” he called out to the rest of the squadron.
The squadron snapped off smart salutes at their ins
tructor before heading towards the lifts. Blazer felt glad for the low gravity of the hangar as he was sure that he would have collapsed otherwise. For now, however, he slumped across the deck like a newbie. He slid his feet instead of bounding across the open area. Approaching the down lift, he spotted who he knew would be coming for their sortie; Training Squadron Eleven.
***
When her head crossed the edge of the hangar floor Marda saw Blazer and waved an emphatic hand at him. I wonder how he did at the Proving Grounds. She knew better than to ask for any tips since her squadron had planned to follow a different flight path than his. Their schedules had kept them apart for the last two cycles and she craved to see him again. The look on his face, however, told her that something must have gone terribly wrong.
She looked at the others and Arion moved to block her view. She broke away from her squadron but a look from Bichard stopped her. That subtle shake of his antennae and wave off from his hand told her volumes about staying away right now. Oh God, something terrible must have happened! Ignoring the warning she walked over as swiftly as she could but it was too late. Before she could get close, their lift pad dropped away.
A hand caught her arm as she turned. She tried to pull away until she recognized Blazer’s instructor. “You’re Marda, right?” Temblin asked.
“Yes, I am. What happened?” she implored waving towards the empty pad.
“There was an accident.”
Marda’s eyes shot wide with concern, she looked to where Blazer had disappeared. “How bad?”
Temblin turned around and pointed out Blazer’s trainer across the deck as the tow tractor began to drag it away. From where Marda stood she couldn’t see the damage. A loud bang then rang out before hydraulic fluid jetted out from underneath the trainer and the right landing gear system collapsed with a bone-jarring thud. The trainer fell and the wingtip slammed into the deck. Crews immediately rushed to clean up the spill and get the plane cleared out of the area.
“Oh my God!” she commented as images of Blazer’s distraught face filled her mind. “Is he OK? Was he hurt?”
“No. At least not so far as I could tell. Though I’m surprised Joda didn’t send him to medical.”
“Yeah. He really should get checked out if his plane is any indication of what happened.”
“I’ll put in a call to his squadron commander. She’ll see that he gets to medical,” Temblin stated with a nod of his head.
Marda stared at him. There has to be more, what the Sheol happened?
He nodded and continued. “It was a dumb mistake for both of us. He took his eyes off his flight path to check on the others.”
What aren’t you telling me? He must know how Blazer feels about me. Is he trying to protect me?
“He collided with a natural obstacle that wasn’t in the sims. He’s a damn good pilot though, his skill saved his life.”
Marda had to resist grabbing the man to force him to explain further. “You mean you didn’t?”
“No, I couldn’t… the RCOS had cut out. Sheol! Even if it hadn’t,” Temblin stopped for a moment and looked back across the deck at the trainer. “The RCOS cut out. I should have been able to avoid the bridge for him but, the RCOS! Damn it!” he said as he spun around and leapt back across the deck.
Marda stood there dumbfounded as he raced away. What? How could the RCOS have cut out?
Before she could call out to the man or even take a step in his direction, one of her squadron mates grabbed her by the arm, yanking her towards the briefing pad. “Come on Marda! Worry about your boyfriend later! Let’s go!”
UCSBA-13, Mendrick’s Bar and Grill
News of Blazer’s crash had traveled through the academy faster than he could ever have imagined. By the time lunch rolled around, he’d heard cadets he’d never even met before whispering about his accident in the passageways. He swore that when he entered the cafeteria for lunch that the sounds of conversation lightened a few decibels and that more than a few heads turned in his direction. Ignoring the line, he headed straight to the team’s table. As he sat, he saw Training Squadron Eleven enter.
Still in their flight suits, they’d just returned from their sortie and he could tell by the general mood of the squadron that their flight had gone well. He couldn’t look their way. He couldn’t risk making eye contact with Marda and showing her what a failure he’d become. He wasn’t sure he could take judgment from her eyes. Still his eyes went searching for her. Seeing Marda, he noted that she wouldn’t make eye contact with him. His hearts sank. Why won’t she look my way? Is she that disappointed in me? Is she upset at herself for falling for me? For caring for me? I’m the failure who destroyed his trainer and I’ll be lucky if they don’t wash me out.
Rumors soon began to swirl and Blazer heard all of them from a distance. The admiral had supposedly called for a board of inquiry to investigate the incident. Blazer and his instructor would face the board. He heard that he was going to wash out for sure. After what Chief Flind had told him, Blazer had felt relief. Now the rumors had him on edge once again. He hadn’t realized that the board and not the old deck chief would make the final decision about his future.
During classes, Blazer dug through the regulations trying to find out if losing a trainer resulted in an automatic expulsion from the academy. It did list several options for punishment in non-injury, non-death accidents with some of the consequences listed as expulsion. Blazer was no lawyer and had trouble making out some of the legal jargon. He would be unable to navigate any loopholes that could save him.
After his last class, he retreated to his quarters. He didn’t want to see anyone. He felt embarrassed enough by what had happened. He sensed the questioning gazes of everyone as he walked back to the dorms. He didn’t go to dinner, opting for the leftovers in their fridge while he did his homework and studied the regulations once again.
His bunkmates wandered in after several hects. Finding him there, Arion took it upon himself to cheer Blazer up. “Your homework’s done and reading the regs again isn’t going to help. We’re going to Mendrick’s,” he stated with authority.
“No! I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“Tough shreg,” Arion replied as he pulled Blazer out of his seat. “Bichard, if he resists, grab his legs. We’re going.”
“Knock it off, Arion!” Blazer growled.
“Blazer! Mendrick’s the best place to clear your head and it’s the only place where we can get you drunk.”
Blazer shook his head. Getting wasted was the last thing he wanted.
“Exactly! We can get you plastered. Then the nanos in the drinks will scrub you clean and get all the nastiness out of your system. I go at least once a decle for a cleanse,” Bichard nodded in agreement.
Blazer stared back at Bichard, incredulous. Bichard frequents Mendrick’s like that? I had no idea, but, he’s right. Nanobots laced the drinks and barbiturates at Mendrick’s. A cadet could get hammered at the bar and upon leaving the nanos would activate and scrub the body of all the impurities before they made it to the command building next door. Once the nanobots finished, they deactivated, flushed away later like any other waste. They left no hangover or other ill-effects.
Blazer gritted his teeth, but agreed and Blade Force met in a secluded corner of the pub. Blazer couldn’t believe his luck as he sat there. He imagined all his hard work falling apart like an ice sculpture someone took a hammer to. He played out the accident in his mind again. The conclusion was the same each time. It was his fault. He shouldn’t have looked away; he should have stayed focused on the mission. The platitudes his friends fed him did little to boost his broken confidence, they hadn’t had any problems.
He stared at the food placed in front of him. The steam that wafted off the meal was inviting. Vacnit was one of his favorite dishes but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. His grandmother used to make a fantastic recipe of her own and it always cheered him up. Now it just reminded him of his failure.
Seri squ
eezed his shoulder. “Blazer, it’s going to be fine! They won’t you wash out for this.”
“What about the board of inquiry?” he asked. He knew they had heard the rumors too. “Is it real?”
“It’s real,” Seri replied. All eyes shot towards Seri. “Look, whenever there’s an accident they call a board. They’re going to pull everyone’s flight and data recorders, check the satellite records and they may even call in you and your instructor. It’s standard procedure.”
“Then why is everyone so on edge about this one?” Blazer asked. The tone of how everyone referred to his board told him that something more was going on.
She looked around to make sure no prying ears listened. “If the board finds you to be entirely at fault,” she bit her lip thinking of the best way to proceed. “You could be washed out of flight training.”
“Wait a cent. If I wash out of flight training, then I’m totally out of Special Ops too!”
“No. There are Special Ops training squadrons that aren’t in the Flight Training Program. You will be excused from this team though.”
Blazer sat back in shock. Not only would he lose his chance to fly but he would lose his friends. They would force him onto a team full of strangers. He tried to say something. The words caught in his throat, allowing only a few jumbled nonsense sounds to escape his lips.
Seri squeezed his shoulder, trying to reassure him. “Look. I’ve checked. They’ve never washed a cadet out of the Flight Training Program unless they completely destroyed their craft. Even then, it was only if they were doing something beyond stupid. You were in the Proving Grounds, and that is one of the single hardest courses any cadet has to fly. They won’t wash you out of the program…”
“Oh yes they are!” an unfamiliar, yet at once recognizable voice called out, approaching their table.
Cringing, Blazer turned to address the newcomer. The sight of Chertsin and the rest of his squadron put Blazer on edge. Still dressed in their flight suits, sweat glistened from their foreheads. They had only just landed from their turn at the Proving Grounds and poured into the pub to celebrate. Chertsin rushed up to them and stole an empty chair from a nearby table. He jammed it in between Blazer and Seri, careful to remain out of Arion’s reach.
