“Wait I just…” She was tapping furiously on her pad, but when she looked up and saw his glare, she stopped. “Sorry, yes, go sleep. Thank you, sir.”
“I tell you what, when we finally step down from endless alert status, we’ll develop this together, but you have to answer me one thing first.”
“Of course,”
“Why are you doing this? You’ve just started, so you’re not going to get a promotion out of it. Most likely the squadron leaders will either ignore your idea completely or give me all the credit for it. Isn’t your free time worth more than this?”
“Because…” she paused. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Um… in the mess hall? Do people ever not?”
“I guess not.” She glanced around quickly, but no one was paying them any heed. “Do you know why you’re pulling so many alert shifts?”
“Because I’m probably the best pilot on the ship?”
“Because you can be trusted. You’re not the only one suffering either, all of the Cold Sabres are getting hit with twice the flight time because there’s no one to share it with. The CAG won’t put Undying on carrier defence, or intercept, or even QRF. He barely trusts us with recon.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to preserve her calm. “I want my squadron to be better than that, but I can’t change them. I can’t give this ship another combat squadron, but I can give it one more dependable pilot. I can be better than I am, and that matters. It matters to the future of the Undying, it matters to this ship, and it matters to me.”
And there it was. The explanation of how someone so kind had gotten into the murder business. How someone worked twice as hard as her colleagues, with no expectation of real gain. She saw a gap, a hole where fourteen other pilots weren’t pulling their weight, and she was doing her damnedest to become fourteen people worth of filler. She was doing it because, if she didn’t, someone would get demoted, or hurt or killed or just plain overworked. She was too good for them, not just the Undying but probably the entire Armed Forces of the Constellation.
What did you say to that?
“You’ve got a great attitude,” he said. “I’m glad we’re on the same ship.”
She fairly beamed in response, reminding him that she was just a junior Lieutenant, and he was at the top of the carrier’s kill board. Still, a little positive reinforcement couldn’t be a bad thing.
He gave her a farewell nod, returned his tray to washup, and headed for his barracks.
He had Debris Policing Detail in four hours, and for the first time was looking forward to it. DPD was two hours walking the Recovery Deck with nineteen other pressure suited unfortunates, to remove anything that might pose risk to a returning space craft. No one liked it, the monotony was maddening, but after days in the cockpit, at least it would be a chance to stretch his legs. For the time being at least, it seemed it was the closest thing to down time he was getting.
He set his alarm and slept. Sleeping quickly, and in almost any condition, was a skill any long-term soldier picked up. In truth, he had it better than most, Navy Officers were never far from a real bed. The ground pounders often had to sleep in whatever conditions nature provided, even if those conditions included periodic enemy mortar fire.
He woke up feeling surprisingly rested, but a glance at his clock brought an unsettling realisation. He’d slept in, almost through his entire DPD. Established veteran or no, the deck officer was going to tear a strip off him for this.
He dressed as quickly as he could, and double timed his way to the recovery deck. He’d basically missed the whole assignment, but it was better to be late than absent.
But when he arrived, the deck officer told him he wasn’t needed. A Lieutenant from the Undying had taken his shift.
****
Constellation Carrier CNS Arcadia
Bryson IV Local Sector, Bryson System
27 April 2315
Tarek mechanically pulled on his flight suit, aware that today, of all days, his head needed to be in the game. The explosive reaction to what he’d thought was a kind gesture, was occupying a great deal of his thoughts. There is a sense of betrayal that goes with the backfire of any well-thought-out gift, and this one felt particularly unwarranted.
Had he somehow gotten it wrong? He’d been completely confident in the information and its source. Had something changed? Did she hate the gift or just the way it was given? Was there another Kyra Rease and the information had gotten mixed up?
He barely saw the hangar deck as he wandered out to his craft, and it wasn’t until he put his first hand onto the ladder that he cut back to the present. It wasn’t the normal ladder that slid up a docking collar into the Warhorse. This was a hook-on ladder hanging from the cockpit lip of a Snowhawk. A ladder that was lesser but a ship that was somehow so much more
Tarek smiled a rare smile as he climbed the ladder past the assignment badge: Kelly ‘Clumsy’ Smart. Convincing her to let him impersonate her on this patrol had been almost impossible, and in the end, he’d had to resort to his power to find the one argument that would work. He wasn’t proud of it, but he was trying to save her life, if that didn’t make it right, then it certainly made it the lesser of two evils.
Of course, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, there was a voice at the back of his mind that asked if the True Want of keeping her alive had really necessitated him flying a fighter again. All those ‘details’ that were subconsciously filled in, ultimately came from him. Could he honestly say that no part of him wanted the chance to fly a Snowhawk again, even if it meant manipulating a friend?
It didn’t help that being in Kelly’s fighter felt oddly invasive. He could adjust the settings, but she had fought, sweated, and even bled in this cockpit, and the smell surrounded him. Her little touches were everywhere, the user-defined screen configurations, the spare oxygen tank she’d added after Catchphrase, and even a photograph of her with her arms around the ugliest English mastiff he’d ever seen.
“Looking sexy today, Kelly,” a flight tech said wryly as he passed up Tarek’s helmet and pulled away the ladder.
A few ground crew were, as a matter of necessity, in on the plan, and despite the fact he knew the quip was coming, Tarek still smiled as he pulled on the helmet. In time, he’d make peace with using his power against Kelly and deconstruct what had gone wrong with Rease, but for now he was Silver again. Now he was back in the cockpit of a starfighter. He had flown a lot of craft in his time, and there really was nothing like it. It had all the kick of a roller coaster, but the rails were what you made them. Freedom with an afterburner.
The anticipation of once again controlling such force built as he sealed and pressurised the canopy. His fighter was towed onto the launch elevator parallel to Wraith’s Snowhawk, its distinctive ghostly wingtips just a metre off his. Her tinted visor turned towards him and she gave him the thumbs up just before the two aircraft descended into their respective launch racks.
The elevator slid into place and then he was alone in a tightly confined, red-lit launch tube; surrounded only by the hiss of the tunnel depressurising and the whine of the catapult powering up behind him. His pulse built with the sound of the launcher, he’d not actually trained on a carrier launch, but according to Kelly the best thing to do was ‘just keep the stick centred and hang the hell on.’
“Banshee Flight requesting launch,” Wraith’s voice hushed into his helmet.
“Copy Banshee Flight,” launch control responded as a hatch opened a few dozen meters ahead of Tarek to reveal the stars beyond. “All elements confirm ready.”
“Banshee One-One, Ready,”
“Banshee One-Two, Ready,” Tarek added quickly. They’d agreed it was best if he maintain radio silence as much as possible, but there were some essential communications that had to be made. He had ensured launch control was friendly to his cause, but he couldn’t be certain of anyone else who might happen to listen in.
“Elements ready, catapul
t ready,” the tower continued. “Launch in two, one…”
The final word - ‘launch’ was absorbed into the thunderous crack of the electromagnets hurling the Snowhawk clear of the carrier. High velocity launches weren’t strictly speaking necessary outside of atmosphere or combat, but it was considered worthwhile drilling and, Tarek suspected, they were simply too much fun.
As soon as the moment’s exhilaration passed, he glanced out to his left to find Wraith’s fighter already vectoring towards their first waypoint. Not wanting to draw attention to himself by being tardy, he rolled in and boosted the power to catch up.
“Comfortable?” Wraith’s voice drifted into his helmet via tight beam.
It took him a moment to set his own comm to narrowcast before he could respond. “Like I haven’t been in ages. You don’t suppose Clumsy would consider a permanent trade?”
“You would have to ask very nicely.”
After that short exchange, they fell into silence. He wanted to let it stand, after all, he wasn’t particularly interested in forming strong bonds with a squadron he’d likely never fly with again. The problem was he’d become used to chatter, silence being an impossibility when you shared a craft with someone like Jackson.
Eventually habit overrode intentions, and he was speaking before he realised it. “So you’re not going to ask me why I went to all this elaborate trouble?”
“As you said, we will save Eternity. For that I will be where you need me.”
“Fair enough.” He paused a moment. “If you don’t mind my saying, you don’t really seem to be trying to keep your interest in each other a secret anymore.”
“Ari wants to keep it a secret. I thought he wanted to protect our careers, but now I think he is worried a relationship with an Exodite would be a political scandal. This offends me, we gave much to help you fight this menace. We are not a military culture, that was one of the reasons for the exodus.”
It wasn’t a shout, but it was still the loudest he’d ever heard Wraith speak, and he realised he’d inadvertently pressed on a sore point.
“He is basically royalty,” Tarek pointed out diplomatically. “I guess a cautious attitude towards politics is drilled into his blood.”
“That is so. It is also wrong. Your people would have fewer uprisings if your politicians were honest instead of cautious.” He could almost hear her shaking her head. “Fear is the worst motivator.”
“Fear keeps us alive,” he pointed out.
“It has been a long time since there was anything more dangerous to your people than your people.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” she agreed.
A few more minutes passed in silence, and then Tarek’s computer pinged as they reached the first waypoint. They were just at the very top of the wispy atmosphere of Bryson IV, a mass of sunset coloured clouds beneath them. The gas giant had nasty gravity and two very distinct strata of atmosphere. The majority was a gas easily thin enough for the Snowhawks to operate in their spaceflight configuration. Much deeper, as Clumsy and Eternity had discovered in his vision, was a second layer that was suddenly and dangerously solid.
“This is where we start breaking with the original plan,” Tarek stated, activating his emergency beacon and turning towards grid Charlie-One-One, which was decidedly not their next waypoint. “Still eager to save your politician?”
“Till all others fall,” she answered.
****
Constellation Carrier CNS Arcadia
Bryson IV Local Sector, Bryson System
27 April 2315
Rease found Kelly at the Arcadia’s firing range. It was a place she could tell the other didn’t visit often, since she was a woeful shot. To the Lieutenant’s dismay, she saw the pilot close her eyes a few times as she pulled the trigger.
“Hope you’re not planning to start carrying one of those,” Rease said when the other paused to inspect her handiwork. “I’ll have to start wearing a vest in the corridors.”
“Got any tips?” Kelly asked, clearing the chamber on the pistol and reaching for another magazine.
“You could try aiming, that usually works for me.” Rease shrugged. “I was actually looking for Tarek.”
Kelly’s hand paused mid-air. “Let’s grab a coffee.”
“Uh-oh, I’ve angered the best friend.”
“Maybe it’s a congratulatory offer,” Kelly said, taking the pistol back to the arms master and checking it back into lockup. “Maybe he could use the occasional C-sharp to the side of the head.”
“You heard about that, huh?”
A few minutes later they had retired to a table in the corner of the junior officers’ mess, each with a cup of coffee in front of them. The JO mess wasn’t busy but there were still a few others coming and going for odd hours’ meals.
“You have no idea how hard it was for him to give you that flute,” Kelly said once they’d been sitting for a few minutes.
Rease groaned. “So I am in trouble. The coffee was a trap, this is trap coffee.”
“No, but before I tell you where Andrew is, I need to understand why you want to know.”
“Jeez. He was supposed to be in my hand-to-hand class and he never showed. Duty of care and all that shit.”
Rease half-rose to leave, but froze as she felt Kelly’s hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked down at the other and cocked an eyebrow. To her surprise the pilot serenely stared her down, something of a first for the Luperca.
“Want me to break that off for you, Lieutenant?” Rease offered.
“Would that be easier than answering the question?”
Rease sighed and sat down. “Christ, Tarek didn’t warn me about you. You’re like… that thing… from that movie.” She made a series of undecipherable gestures.
Kelly didn’t respond, but she did take her hand away and nestle it back against her coffee.
“So maybe I’m feeling a smidge guilty, but I’ve seen all this shit before, alright? I’m a soldier, and I’m a girl, and half the guys here can’t reconcile that in their tiny heads and tinier balls. I’m sure you get this as well. They’re all looking for some ‘secret me’ that’s all soft and feminine. That likes cakes and teddy bears and plays the fucking flute.”
Kelly didn’t say anything. She was like the damn Captain with her silent treatment.
“I guess I’d hoped he was different, but then he makes this big gesture like I’m supposed to swoon and faint into his arms.”
“He wasn’t there,” the pilot pointed out. “He didn’t hand it to you.”
“That’s even worse, like I’m going to go running back to him.”
“And did it have a note saying it was from him?”
“No, but this ship is like an old wives’ club. Nobody’s got secrets here.”
“I suppose you know it was his flute.”
For the first time, Rease came up short, and even her attempt to cover her shock by sipping her coffee was spoiled by a short cough as it tried to go down the wrong pipe.
“Where else did you think he’d find an instrument that rare?” Kelly asked. “This far from home where we all live to tiny baggage allowances?”
“So he plays the flute.”
“Before he joined, yeah.”
“Cake and teddy bears?”
“I can’t speak to that, but who doesn’t love cake. It’s fair to say he’s never been big on gender roles,” she pinned the Lieutenant with a firm stare. “It meant a lot to him, and he thought it would mean even more to you.”
“Ahh hell,” Rease slumped back in her seat. “I’m right up apology creek, aren’t I?”
Kelly let that stand. A while later she nodded to the window and added. “He’s out there.”
“What Tarek? No I already checked the Horse. It’s still here.”
“He’s in my fighter.”
“Are you guys allowed to do that?”
Kelly snorted behind her raised cup. “No.”
“Very clumsy.
”
****
Search Grid Charlie-One-One
Bryson IV Local Sector, Bryson System
27 April 2315
“Fury, check two o’clock low,” Phillips advised as they descended out of the electrical storm and the turbulence eased to much more manageable levels.
“That’s a lot of hurt, Boss,” Fury responded. “And they’ve seen us.”
“Maybe, but look what they’re guarding.”
Beyond the Bugs and Scarabs that had the other pilot so concerned was a Mauler cruiser unlike anything he’d ever had seen or heard of. It was clearly using the electrical storm for cover, and though it matched their bulky, tubular style, this ship lacked the heavy plasma cannons of an enemy warship. Instead the main feature was a ring circumscribing the middle of the ship out to a diameter almost half the vessels length. Two spokes, one above, one below, extended from the main hull to hold the ring in place as it began, almost imperceptibly, to rotate.
He might have mistaken the whole assembly for some sort of gravity ring, but there was something sinister about the way the ring was gradually building up speed. Whatever it was for, they were activating it for combat, and that meant it was a weapon. Whatever this thing was, it was definitely what the Arcadia had sent them to find.
“Great,” Fury responded, “so that’s mission accomplished. Let’s bail.”
“We need to tag it first. If it disappears into this soup, we’ll never find it again.”
“All due respect, sir, we need to get out of here. They’re already splitting up to box us in.”
Phillips didn’t reply right away. The enemy fighters had split into two groups of six and both sets were in attack formations, but somehow neither seemed properly orientated to flank. One was heading straight for him but the other… he traced its path just in time to see two new fighters descended out of the storm.
“Snowhawks?” Fury identified uncertainly.
“Silver?” Phillips queried over the comm, though it was only half a question.
Threshold of Victory Page 20
