Hera 2781

by Janet Edwards

  Part III

  The three Military survey ships started moving and the other groups followed in turn. The portal had already established and the first ships were moving through before the group of civilian vessels in queue position five had sorted themselves out and our team could join the line. We swooped across in formation and executed a complex lineout for portal manoeuvre that left us in single file with Jaxon at the front and me right at the back.

  It was the first time I’d executed this manoeuvre in a real portal queuing situation, but we’d practised it a lot on the pilot training course because Military flights use it to show off in front of the watching pilots of civilian ships. Jaxon didn’t say a word, so I must have played my part perfectly.

  The line moved forward and it was my turn to fly through the portal. When I travelled by drop portal I heard music. When I travelled long interstellar distances by conventional portal, I just experienced the same moment of disorientation as everyone else. This time we were travelling cross-sector to the heart of Alpha sector, so the disorientation was worse than usual, and for an instant I saw an image of Jaxon holding the two children from Hera.

  It was the first time I’d ever seen an image when portalling. When my fighter emerged from the portal, my mind was still confused, and I found myself in a bewilderingly crowded area of space. For a second or two, I struggled to make sense of my surroundings, but finally worked out I was looking at the six great portals of an orbital interchange with clouds of ships queuing round them.

  That was when I realized the rest of my team had already moved away from the portal and rejoined formation. I hit my thrusters to chase after them, had a moment of blind panic as I couldn’t see my wing leader’s ship, then spotted the yellow flashes on his sleek black fighter and shot into position behind him.

  A man spoke on the command channel, his drawling Alphan accent almost lost in his heavily sarcastic tone. “Adonis Orbital Traffic Control to Freya Flight. If you’ve finished dawdling around in Orbital Gate Three arrival zone, perhaps you could move to your designated position four in Orbital Gate Five departure queue two for Cassandra.”

  Nobody said a word on the comms until we’d weaved our way through the other ships to reach our queuing position, then Jaxon’s voice shouted in anger on ship to ship channel. “Chaos take it, Drago, your father has been boring our whole clan to death by talking about your training scores being the highest of any fighter pilot in the last ten years. Didn’t that training cover how to join a formation?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was having problems with portal disorientation.”

  “I don’t see why,” said Jaxon. “You may not have portalled cross-sector in a ship before, but you must have done it dozens of times using the standard interstellar passenger portals in Off-worlds and Sector Interchanges.”

  “Portal disorientation can vary unpredictably,” said Ramon. “Especially when someone is under severe stress.”

  “Are you suggesting that embarrassing display was my fault for calling Drago names?” asked Jaxon.

  “No,” said Ramon. “I’m suggesting we’re all under stress worrying about what’s happening at Hera. Let’s try to relax and enjoy the view of my home world from space.”

  I glanced across at Adonis, remembered my childish plan to wave rude gestures at it, and felt guilty. I found some of Ramon’s ideas confusing, but he was a generous person and a good teammate. I should never have considered making fun of his home world behind his back.

  “I admit I’m finding it a little hard to relax after what happened,” said red wing leader, Captain Lotta Gerard. “How many pilots do you think watched that fiasco?”

  “Dozens,” said blue wing leader, Captain Akinyi Gani, in a depressed voice. “Possibly hundreds. I hope none of them recorded it, because if they have then we’re doomed. Remember that vid everyone was passing round and laughing at last month? The one where a fighter team came through a portal and two of them collided getting into formation. A vid of Drago’s fighter streaking after us like a lost baby chicken chasing its mother is going to be even funnier.”

  “There’s always the option of triggering our fighters’ self destruct,” said Lotta.

  It was obvious she intended her remark as a joke, but Jaxon answered her in a grimly furious voice. “We can’t self destruct this close to an orbital interchange. I’m afraid we’ll have to live with the humiliation.”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. I’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, but they had. I’d just proved I was a useless pilot as well as a useless human being. The lights on Orbital Gate Five were flashing to show it was in dialling sequence, and ships were lining up ready to go through it. I wanted to fly to join them. I didn’t know where they were going, but I’d be happy with any place that was far from everyone I knew.

  Escape wouldn’t be that easy, of course. Leaving my clan and the Military behind wasn’t just unthinkable but virtually impossible. My genetic code was scanned every time I used a portal, so I’d need gene therapy and a whole new identity to have any chance of successfully vanishing. If there was any truth in the rumours I’d heard, then there were clans on Atalanta that could supply both. For a second, I seriously considered taking that option.

  I’d forgotten the private channel was still open until Ramon spoke on it. “I think we made a big mistake earlier and should take a step back.”

  “What big mistake?” asked Mari.

  “We listened to three Betans telling us this is a sensitive cultural area and we should let them deal with the situation in their own way,” said Ramon, “but we interfered anyway. I think we made a big mistake by pushing Drago into requesting a transfer.”

  “What you’re saying is you think I made a big mistake,” said Mari. “I agree that Drago transferring isn’t an ideal solution, but we can’t carry on indefinitely with Jaxon bullying him.”

  “This situation has been going on for three days now,” said Ramon. “If Drago had wanted to escape it with a transfer, then he’d have already requested one.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” said Mari.

  “What Jaxon and Drago are doing may seem strange to the rest of us,” said Ramon, “but that means we should be even more careful about imposing our ideas on them. The rest of you were all born into Military families or Betan Military clans, but I grew up on Adonis, the capital planet of Alpha sector. A lot of the Alphan worlds were settled from specific areas of Earth, which means they have wildly varying cultures and values. Believe me, I’m an expert in the dangers of cultural misunderstandings.”

  He paused for a moment. “Drago, if Mari hadn’t suggested requesting a transfer, would you have stayed on the team?”

  I grabbed for the lifeline he was offering. “I would have stayed.”

  “Jaxon, would you have allowed Drago to stay?” asked Ramon.

  “I would have had to put up with him,” said Jaxon.

  “In that case, let’s go back to that situation,” said Ramon.

  I waited tensely for the next few seconds to see if Jaxon would object, but he kept quiet.

  “I’ve no idea what you think you’re doing, Ramon,” said Mari.

  He laughed. “I’m listening to voices.”

  “Oh no,” said Brandon. “You’re not having one of your mystical moments, are you?”

  “I’m having one of my diplomatic moments,” said Ramon. “Diplomats learn far more from body language, and the tone and inflexions of voices, than they do from listening to the words people say.”

  I wondered how much Ramon had learned by studying Jaxon and me for the last few days.

  “Superficially, what’s going on between Jaxon and Drago looks like bullying,” continued Ramon, “but I think this is really something more like the ritual trials undergone by the knights on my own world. Jaxon and Drago are acting out parts in a predefined Betan redemption ritual so they can restore their friendship. Am I right, Drago?”

  I blinked, and Jaxon made a noise on t
he comms that sounded like he was being strangled. As Brandon had said earlier, a clan splitting was the ultimate nightmare for Betans, so it was vital to prevent individual conflicts between clan members from escalating and dragging in more and more people on either side.

  Gemelle had chosen to use the simplest of the traditional methods of stopping a conflict from spreading, and totally blanked me out of her life. I’d been prepared for Jaxon to do that too, but he was taking the much harder way of recognizing I’d done something unforgivably dishonourable without cutting off contact with me.

  At the moment, that contact could only consist of insults and was extremely painful for both of us, but it was still a statement that our friendship was deeply important to him and he hadn’t abandoned hope of me becoming a better person.

  As a fellow Betan, Brandon would have recognized the telltale pattern of accusation and acceptance, and known to stay well clear of what was going on. Not because this was a predefined Betan ritual that would resolve the situation, but because it was a dangerous emotional mess that was almost certain to end in disaster. Comparing it to the carefully orchestrated trials of Adonis was ludicrous.

  “This is nothing like your Alphan rituals,” I said. “No one is going strolling across any deserts.”

  “Obviously this is an emotional rather than a physical ordeal.” Ramon had mentioned the importance of voices, and there was an odd note in his voice right now that puzzled me.

  “If this is a Betan equivalent of the trials of Adonis, then that makes a big difference,” said Mari. “Is it possible to cut down on the insults?”

  “No, it isn’t,” said Jaxon.

  He had no choice but to keep insulting me. As an honourable Betan, his only allowable reason to maintain contact with a skunk like me was to hammer home the point that I needed to change into a better person.

  I hoped I already was a better person. I hoped I could demonstrate it over the months and years to come, and Jaxon would eventually declare I’d proven myself a changed man and made things good between us again. But the truth was that we were far more likely to hit another problem like the one a few minutes ago, which would force Jaxon to blank me out of his life. If that happened, at least we’d both know that we’d cared enough to try to make this work.

  “I think we have to let Jaxon and Drago get on with this without asking questions,” said Ramon.

  There was that odd note in his voice again. I realized Ramon had only mentioned the trials of Adonis because he knew it would make Mari leave me and Jaxon alone.

  “Very well,” said Mari. “We’ll end this discussion for now, and review the situation in a few days’ time.”

  The background hum of the private channel abruptly cut out as Mari closed it down. I leaned back in my seat, and was feeling the tension ease out of my body when a loud voice spoke on the command channel. My nerves went taut again. Traffic control only used that high a volume for vital emergency instructions.

  “Adonis Orbital Traffic Control to all ships. Clear Orbital Gate Five departure zone now! I repeat: clear Orbital Gate Five departure zone now! Hera Flight Nineteen is incoming by drop portal with emergency priority.”

  The neat line of ships in front of Orbital Gate Five scattered wildly in all directions. I had to jink sideways out of formation to prevent a civilian ship colliding with my fighter.

  “Arriving by drop portal?” Jaxon spoke on ship to ship, his voice high with disbelief. “That can’t be happening. They can’t drop portal into an orbital interchange packed with ships.”

  “Control must mean Hera Flight Nineteen are arriving through Gate Five,” responded Mari. “Look, the outgoing dialling sequence has stopped and the lights are flashing.”

  I stared at the lights around the great portal’s rim. “No, those lights aren’t flashing for an incoming flight. That’s the start of a new outgoing dialling sequence. Control must mean exactly what they said. Hera Flight Nineteen is coming in by drop portal.”

  I’d barely said the words when I saw a mass of dust rings appearing in the departure zone in front of us. Hera Flight Nineteen was obviously a full team of fighters, and they weren’t just drop portalling into the middle of an orbital interchange, they were doing it in tight formation. I held my breath as I saw two of the dust rings were terrifyingly close together, but sixteen specialist combat fighter ships came safely through them in the same instant as Gate Five flared to life.

  “Adonis Orbital Traffic Control to Hera Flight Nineteen,” the loud voice on command channel spoke again. “Orbital Gate Five is open for you to portal to Hera.”

  The sleek, black fighters didn’t pause for a second before forming into a line and heading for the portal.

  “Deity aid Hera,” said Ramon, in a shocked voice. “The situation must be incredibly bad there for the Military to risk ...”

  The loud voice on command channel spoke again. “Adonis Orbital Traffic Control to Freya Flight. You are now designated Hera Flight Twenty and will follow Hera Flight Nineteen through Gate Five.”

  “What? He can’t mean us,” said Brandon’s stunned voice on ship to ship.

  “He does mean us,” said Jaxon. “We’re going to Hera!”

  Part IV

  Jaxon led our formation out into the departure zone, we went through the lineout for portal manoeuvre, and straight on through Gate Five. I was the last in line as before, staring at the fighter in front of me with grim concentration. I’d no idea what we were flying into, but whatever nightmare was happening at Hera I had to shake off any portal disorientation, find my wing leader, and stay with him.

  The fighter ahead vanished through the portal and I followed. I barely felt any disorientation during the portal transition this time, and emerged into space to see the vast wings of a solar array directly ahead of me. I looked desperately for Brandon’s fighter, spotted the yellow flashes, and followed him into our fighter formation.

  A voice was talking on the command channel. “... transmitting your flight path now. Join channel twenty for briefing from your mission controller.”

  A flight path appeared on my control screens, and Jaxon started our formation moving before repeating the instruction to join channel twenty on ship to ship.

  I changed my comms settings just in time to hear a woman’s voice start speaking. “Flight Twenty, I’m the designated mission controller for your team. State your ship specifications and current missile armament.”

  “This is Flight Twenty Leader,” said Jaxon. “We’ve got sixteen standard dart fighters, each armed with four Siren class missiles originally intended to clear debris from the deployment area for Freya’s new orbital portal.”

  “Confirming sixteen dart fighters with four Siren class missiles per ship,” said our mission controller. “Follow your flight path to your holding position and await further briefing.”

  There was silence on channel twenty, and I finally dared to take my eyes off Brandon’s fighter and glance at my surroundings. On my right and above me, the spreading wings of the Hera solar array loomed over our fighters, making us look like tiny flying insects in comparison. On my left, I could catch a glimpse of Hera itself, the white of its clouds looking misleadingly peaceful.

  Lotta’s shocked voice spoke on ship to ship. “Chaos, look what’s coming!”

  At first I couldn’t see what she was talking about, but then I passed the wing of the solar array that had been blocking my view. There were a mass of fighters overhead. They were going in the opposite direction to us, presumably heading for the Hera orbital portal.

  I was craning my neck, trying to work out how many teams were up there and whether they were dart ships or specialist combat fighters, when I saw another group of ships heading straight towards us. These were a single team of dart fighters, limping along at half normal speed in a wounded bird, circular formation.

  As they flew past us, I saw that most of the ships forming the outer circle showed signs of collision damage, but the two in the centre were a real
mess. One had a badly damaged side and its shields were flickering, while the other had a thruster that was only held in place by a couple of wires and had lost ship shields entirely.

  I tensed and started frantically counting ships, but Jaxon was ahead of me. “Sixteen,” he said.

  I sagged back into my seat. Some of those pilots were probably injured despite the protection of their ship’s shields and their impact suits, but everyone was obviously still in a state where they could fly a fighter. Once they reached the Hera orbital portal, it should only be a matter of minutes before the injured were being treated at a Military Medical Centre.

  The main dangers now were that one of the damaged ships might have a terminal engine failure on the way to safety, or an injured pilot lose consciousness. Their teammates were ready to deal with that, staying protectively close so someone could pick up a pilot in trouble and squeeze them in to share their own cockpit.

  “Whatever those damaged fighters have been through, we’re likely to be facing it ourselves soon,” said Jaxon. “We have to be prepared for collision damage to vent cockpit atmosphere, so everyone check your impact suits are properly sealed and attach your oxygen booster cells.”

  I checked my suit hood, then grabbed for the pack of oxygen booster cells in the pocket at my right side. Nervous tension aggravated the clumsiness of my gloved fingers, so I took two attempts to attach the booster cells to my suit.

  “Flight Twenty, hold your current position until ordered to continue,” said the voice of our mission controller.

  Our formation stopped moving. We were huddled directly under one of the solar array wings, and I could see where several members of its construction crew had painted their initials in giant letters.

  “You will be aware that the incoming comet consisted of the planet killing sized core, as well as multiple fragments capable of causing severe planetary destruction,” said our mission controller. “All those fragments were successfully destroyed in phase one of the operation. Phase two of the operation involved dealing with the core itself by using carefully placed nuclear charges to explode it and send the majority of the pieces back into space. Anything dangerously large that was still heading for Hera could then be destroyed by either our fighter teams or the Hera solar array power beam.”