by Sean Danker
The Everwing fighter was able to compensate for the extraordinary g-forces associated with these speeds, but only during certain maneuvers. The art of Everwing flight was to maneuver effectively without doing anything that would cause the pilot to pass out, which was not as easy as it sounded.
“Team Two, you are good to launch,” Commander Mao said.
A second glowing line of light appeared on Bjorn’s feed. He decided to make Kladinova blue. Ibuki could be green.
Ibuki immediately gunned it after Kladinova, who began evasive maneuvers.
Bjorn smiled as he watched. It was one thing in a simulator, and something else in reality. The Everwing fighters really were overwhelming. They were small, but there was nothing in any fleet in the galaxy that could stand up to them.
Sergeant Golding let out a long whistle. “They brought their dancing shoes,” she said, grinning at her own screen.
“You can maintain that speed,” Bjorn said to Kladinova, “but don’t push it any harder.”
“It’s got more,” Kladinova said distractedly.
“Not right now.” He looked at the screen. Kladinova was leaning forward in the cockpit, both hands on her control globes. Bjorn was relieved to see the look of concentration on her face. The way she’d been spacing out earlier had bothered him.
He still wasn’t sure about the commander.
“Teams One and Four, you’re going to be late,” Mao was saying.
“I’m getting delay,” Kladinova said tightly.
“Your hands or your head?”
“Both.”
“Boosting,” Bjorn said, increasing the level of Harbinger being released into her bloodstream. Kladinova was still in the safe zone. Her level of focus was better than he’d been led to expect in his training. She wasn’t showing any nerves. She was making this look easy.
Harbinger was another element of the Everwing program that was considered dangerously unconventional. It was the only part of the program that would still be a secret after the public learned of the fighters and their capabilities. Harbinger was a parasite, an extremely dangerous organism that had more in common with machines than with what the human species thought of as life. Harbinger’s fundamental role was to adapt its host to changing circumstances, a sort of split-second evolution. Only with a heavily refined strain of Harbinger in the bloodstream could a human brain and nervous system fully interface with the Everwing fighters.
“How’s it compare to the simulator?” Bjorn asked.
“No difference,” Kladinova reported.
“Ibuki’s catching up to you.” She went into a series of rolls that would leave all but the most advanced targeting computers far behind. “Good,” Bjorn said.
“Help me shake him,” she said, referring to Ibuki, who was still tracking her.
“He’s hanging back and watching you. Fake him out,” Bjorn said.
There was a dazzling burst of light on the screen. Ibuki spiraled off in one direction, and Kladinova got away clean in another.
“There you go,” Bjorn said, glancing at Kladinova’s camera feed. She smirked.
Major Compton and Captain Woodhouse came onto the bridge, taking their seats.
“Good to go?” Compton asked.
“Do it,” Mao told him.
“Walt, hit it.”
A third line joined Kladinova and Ibuki. Bjorn made Major Lucas gold, and his fighter streaked away from the Lydia in a wide arc.
“Go,” Mao said to Woodhouse.
“General, you’re green to launch,” Woodhouse said into the com.
A fourth line joined the others. Bjorn made the general white. Just as Ibuki had chased Kladinova, Dayal went after Lucas, who began to lead her on a merry chase. For an Everwing pilot, there wasn’t anything more challenging than trying to keep up with another Everwing fighter.
To someone unfamiliar with the system, it might look like they were just playing around. In fact, this simple chasing game was more difficult and technical than the majority of Everwing combat maneuvers. The technology was so new that there simply hadn’t been time to design a real curriculum for it. Everwing combat tactics were almost completely theoretical.
The commander put away her checklist and enlarged the feed, leaning back to have a look. Bjorn watched her discreetly. Mao’s expression was approving. He could see her eyes tracking the specks of light, and the lines they left behind.
“Unit One, you’re getting predictable,” she said.
“Copy that,” Lucas said, changing course.
“How do we feel out there?” Mao asked.
“Pretty good,” Ibuki reported.
“As expected,” said General Dayal.
“Fine,” Kladinova said.
“Feeling old,” Major Lucas added.
“Ready for impact?” Mao asked.
“Born ready,” Ibuki said. “Who’s my victim?”
Bjorn felt a chill. This was another part of the system that was theoretical. Like most imperials, Bjorn was well aware that if an Evagardian engineer said that something would work, it probably would. Yet there was still something worrisome about the notion of deliberately running into things at relativistic speeds.
“I’ll do it,” General Dayal volunteered.
Mao nodded. “Kladinova and Lucas, get clear.”
The blue and gold lines jetted away as white and green circled around toward each other.
Bjorn lowered his feed and looked out the viewport. There was a massive flash of light as the two fighters collided. More light flashed outside: molecular shrapnel caught in the Lydia’s shields.
The two fighters were slowed for only a moment, though. Then they were off, streaking through space just as before.
“Thank the Empress,” Mao said, relieved. Bjorn’s heart had been in his throat for a second there as well. The kinetic shields were working as intended.
The pilots spent thirty minutes doing maneuvers before Commander Mao ordered them back in. There were no malfunctions, and none of the pilots fell short. Bjorn was glad to see that Kladinova could follow orders, and was also relieved that General Dayal could obviously fly with the best of them.
Major Lucas and Lieutenant Ibuki flew more conservatively, but even cautious flying in an Everwing was spectacular.
Kladinova’s fighter was easing through the shield as Bjorn returned to the bay. It glided on its automated path into the dock, which locked it in place.
The hatch opened, and Kladinova struggled with her sync collar as he approached.
“Nice flying,” he said.
“All my rotators are sticking,” she said, hanging up the collar and climbing down. “And there’s something not right with the mine timing.” She shook her head in disgust.
Bjorn turned as she passed, and she stopped. Kladinova didn’t look back.
“She kind of rushed us,” she said.
“What?”
“The mission. The annexation. Shouldn’t we talk about it?”
“She’s the commander,” Bjorn replied, gazing at her back. “She knows best.”
4
A Klaxon blared through the Lydia.
Bjorn sat up in his bunk, instinctively checking his holo. They were just shy of forty hours into the cruise. He’d known this was coming.
“Combat alert,” the AI was saying.
“Copy,” Bjorn said into his com, getting to his feet. He looked at the top bunk, but it was empty. Major Morel was on duty.
Yeoman DiJeur, struggling with her EV suit, stepped into the spine at the same moment Bjorn did. Bjorn had dutifully worn his to bed, but he knew perfectly well not everyone would.
“Red Bay.” Mao’s voice came over the com. “It’s game time.”
“Empress.” Major Lucas yawned. “Here we go.”
Half the crew had
been sleeping, but the formation was still crisp. It took only moments for the entire crew to assemble.
“What’s wrong?” Ensign Grigori asked Sergeant Golding, who looked distinctly grumpy.
“My daughter apparently went to a New Unity rally.”
Several members of the crew winced. Golding gave them a tired look. “This is what happens when I deploy. I have four husbands, and not one of them can be bothered to see where she’s going.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“One rally’s not a big deal,” Woodhouse said. “Where’s the harm?”
Bjorn raised an eyebrow; that was a contentious thing to say aboard a military ship. It wasn’t exactly a rule, but there was an unspoken obligation in the Service to condemn New Unity whenever possible. It wasn’t good form for someone wearing the uniform to voice anything positive, or even neutral, about people actively critical of the Empress.
Woodhouse obviously wasn’t trying to make friends.
Mao entered the bay before anyone could reply.
“We’ve got contacts,” she said without preamble. “Lydia, show them.”
A feed displaying two vessels appeared in the air in front of the gathering.
“That’s a Wolverine. That’s no pirate ship,” Major Compton said, pointing at the smaller of the two. “Smugglers, maybe.”
“What about the big one?” Mao asked.
“That’s a cargo ship from the Golden systems.” That came from Major Lucas.
“It’s big,” Golding agreed, folding her arms. “Is it armed?”
“Lydia, talk to me,” Mao said.
“The Wolverine is unregistered and not present in my intelligence,” the AI replied. “But the larger vessel matches the description of the Han-class frigate captained by Ling Bai.”
“Is she on the kill list?”
“Yes, Commander.”
Bjorn swallowed.
“Ling Bai? More like goodbye,” Mao said, looking at the crew. “Nothing? Fine. She won’t know what hit her. Give me more, Lydia.”
“Her vessel should be heavily armed, though records indicate this ordnance is extremely dated. Ballistic weapons.”
“What about defense?” Mao asked.
“Second-generation Golden force shield technology, Commander.”
Mao put her hands on her hips and faced them. “We aren’t getting any younger. We’ll go ahead and hit these guys. We have a clean bill of health. The Empress’ ultimatum has been live for twenty hours. Anyone who isn’t out of the Demenis system or at least well on their way is fair game. And these guys aren’t even moving.”
“Confirmation,” Lydia announced. “This is Green Dragon Wei Man, vessel of pirate captain Ling Bai.”
“Good. What about the other one?”
“Still unidentified, Commander. Scan in progress.”
“Stay on it. Come on, guys.” She clapped her hands together loudly. “Wake up. Take a stim if you have to. If one sortie on this whole trip needs to go right, it’s this one. This is special ops, but we’re still on the record.”
Lieutenant Kladinova had turned rather pale. Bjorn looked at Major Lucas. He seemed all right, and so did Ibuki. The general was placid and confident, as always.
Kladinova was the only pilot showing nerves.
“I was getting tired of just talking about killing pirates,” Major Lucas said, stretching his arms over his head.
“Don’t make it a big deal,” Captain Woodhouse said, waving a hand. “I kill pirates all the time. I kill pirates while I wait for the lift.”
“Me too,” Mao agreed.
“How are we doing this?” Ibuki asked, eyeing the ships on the screen.
“Be patient.” The commander bounced on her heels briefly, then folded her arms. “And by ‘be patient,’ what I really mean is, don’t be patient. Come on, Lydia.”
“Commander, there are thirty humans aboard Green Dragon Wei Man, and one android. There are no weapons aboard that can threaten this vessel.”
“But they’d work fine on a stalled Everwing,” Mao pointed out. “Though their targeting computers probably aren’t the best. What else?”
“Green Dragon Wei Man has a dual-turbine hybrid reactor, which is running extremely hot.”
“It’ll be hotter in a little while. Tell me about their sensory capabilities, Lydia.”
“Poor, Commander. First-generation Evagardian DS stealth technology would be completely undetectable to this array. The ship does have traditional viewports, so active camouflage will be needed.”
Mao began to rub her hands together. “Small arms?”
“In great quantity, Commander.”
“Contraband?”
“Evagardian Ale.”
Woodhouse snorted. “Really? That’s the worst they got?”
“Evagardian Ale isn’t illegal,” Major Lucas pointed out.
“It is aboard a spacecraft,” Mao shot back. “And galactics aren’t supposed to have it. They aren’t worthy. Anyway, if they’re on the list we don’t need an excuse. What about the little one?”
“Four humans, some small arms. No shipboard weapons,” the AI reported.
“Told you. Smugglers,” Major Compton said, shaking his head. “They’re doing business with Ling Bai.”
“No shipboard weapons,” Mao said, sighing. “I won’t kill people who can’t even theoretically shoot back.”
“You’re going to let them walk?” Major Compton looked incredulous. “They’re in flagrant disregard of an imperial decree. The Empress has banished them, and they’re still here.”
Mao gave him a look. “I’m not repeating myself.” Her eyes moved to Ibuki. “Lieutenant Ibuki will hit Ling Bai with a nanomine, simple and clean. We’ll put a tracker on the little fish and let it swim. If they run, which they likely will when they see Ling Bai blow up for no reason, then they get to live out their lives. If they go to pirates, we’ll have a line on more pirates. Then I’ll kill them,” Mao said, turning back to Compton. “Because even unarmed people don’t get to disobey the Empress twice.”
“Commander, the smaller vessel does possess Trigan repulsors.”
Mao clicked her tongue. “Figures. We’ll put a delay on the mine and work around it.”
The repulsors meant that a tracker fired at the ship would simply bounce off; an Everwing would have to disrupt the shield, and a member of the crew could physically place the device.
Bjorn saw several reactions to that announcement. General Dayal looked mildly impressed, perhaps by the boldness of the commander’s plan.
One of them would have to venture out of the ship with no protection to speak of. He or she would be totally vulnerable.
Major Lucas didn’t appear to like it. Woodhouse was spluttering. Major Compton just looked dazed.
“Where’s my volunteer? Come on, we’re not talking about anything fancy here. You rope over there and slap a tracker on her. All you have to do is get the timing right. Who’s good with maneuvering wires?” Mao asked.
Obviously nobody liked the idea of leaving the ship in nothing but an EV suit.
Sergeant Golding raised her hand.
Seeing her, Bjorn raised his as well.
“I’m a better choice,” he said, and Sergeant Golding gave him a curious look.
“Why’s that?” Commander Mao asked.
“It would be a shame for the sergeant to lose her hair for something like this,” he said. Some aristocrats could arrange their hair such that it would not be sliced off when their EV helmets deployed. With the sergeant’s dreadlocks, that was impossible.
“My hero,” she said.
Bjorn gave a little smile. “I don’t mind going outside. I could use some fresh air.”
“You’re all qualified on maneuvering gear,” Mao accused. “Two volunteers? Really?”
“Sound fundamentals,” Major Lucas reminded her. “Nothing flashy, remember?”
“Don’t get cute with me, Major. I know risking a pilot this way is dodgy, but this is a good play for the early game. We can get a lot of intel from one tracker if it goes to interesting places. Yes, it’s a little more hassle than just killing everyone, but it’s hardly the most delicate maneuver in Evagardian history. The timing’s just a little tricky—that’s all.”
“I’ll need help.”
“I’ll talk you through the timing personally,” Mao said. “Lydia, get us close enough to touch that little ship.”
“We’ll be in danger from our own ordnance,” Woodhouse said.
“We’ll be fine. It’s Lieutenant Bjorn who’ll be in danger. Lucas, I want you ready to sortie just in case.”
Lucas nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Major Compton turned to Yeoman DiJeur. “Come on, kid.”
“Yes, sir.”
Bjorn watched them jog off toward the fighter. DiJeur had taken to Major Compton quickly.
“Keep it slow, Lydia. They can still sense radiation density,” Mao was saying.
“Yes, Commander. We will not be detected.”
“I love this AI,” Mao told the group. “I’ve never met one like it. You guys don’t even need me. Ibuki, get ready. Bjorn, you need wires. Ensign Grigori, get the man his tracker. Kladinova, do the safety check for his maneuvering gear. Let’s go.”
She clapped her hands and left the bay.
“Does she ever sleep?” Woodhouse muttered.
“Only in the shower,” Sergeant Golding replied, moving toward Unit Two.
“Is she joking?” Bjorn asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ensign Grigori told him, her expression curious. He was getting a lot of those looks at the moment; this was why volunteering for things was always a mistake.
Always.
He knew why Mao didn’t sleep. She was studying. The commander was trying to catch up to the level of knowledge she needed to equal the man she’d replaced as commander of the Lydia.
“Got you covered, LT.” Ensign Grigori smiled at Bjorn and jogged off. Bjorn realized Kladinova was at his side, glaring at him.
