by Ryk Brown
“Out on the open deck like that, they wouldn’t even need heat exchangers,” Nathan realized. “They won’t be able to aim, though.”
“They don’t need to,” Jessica insisted. “They’re not trying to target any particular point. They’re just trying to take down a shield segment or two, so the ships that can target critical systems can then make the kills. Even a single gunship can take a warship out of action, if the right shield segment is down.”
“We’re going to need more intel in order to know which shield segments to target,” Nathan pointed out.
“That’s why we need to engage them with the gunships,” Jessica said, “to learn their weaknesses.”
Nathan smiled. “I knew there was a reason I wanted you as my tactical officer. You’re devious.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jessica said, smiling and plopping back down on the couch.
* * *
“I still say the Falcon flies better,” Josh insisted as he weaved the Reaper through narrow canyons. He rolled the ship to the right, bringing it sharply around the bend, then found himself headed directly toward a vertical face only half a kilometer in front of them. “Whoa!” he exclaimed as he pulled back on the flight control stick, and pushed the throttles to full power. The engines screamed at him in response, and the ship went vertical, barely clearing the rock face in the process. “Falcon climbs better, too,” Josh added.
“The Falcon is a fine ship, but it doesn’t have the mission versatility of the Reaper,” Commander Verbeek said in Josh’s helmet comms.
“But it’s funner than hell to fly,” Josh commented.
“I’ve never had the pleasure,” the commander replied. “By the way, your passengers are probably splattered against the aft bulkhead by now.”
“Oops,” Josh laughed as he leveled the ship off. “I guess I forgot about them.”
“I don’t find that at all funny, Mister Hayes.”
“Not even a little?”
“You have a remarkable gift for flight, but I believe it lends itself better toward fighting ships than personnel carriers.”
Josh pushed the Reaper’s nose back down and backed off on the power, diving into the canyons. “Come on, Commander, I was just trying to see what she could do. I can fly her gently, you know. Besides, wouldn’t the inertial dampeners protect the passengers during a max-g climb?”
“Assuming they were working, yes,” the commander agreed.
Josh slipped the Reaper back down into the canyons, and continued gleefully snaking his way through them. “Well, I didn’t have any indicators that said they weren’t, so, going vertical seemed like a good choice to me.”
“You also could have dropped your forward speed and gone vertical in a deck-level attitude,” the commander pointed out.
“But I didn’t need to at the time,” Josh argued. “That’s my point.”
“You also didn’t need to go vertical in a deck-vertical attitude,” Commander Verbeek countered. “If your status indicators had been faulty, and your inertial dampeners would have been out, your passengers would be dead. That is my point.”
“But I would have felt that the inertial dampeners had failed as I started the maneuver, and would have changed to a deck-level climb out,” Josh insisted.
“The Reaper’s modular design means the cockpit’s inertial dampeners are separate from those in the passenger bay,” Commander Verbeek explained. He said nothing further beyond that, instead letting the knowledge have its full impact on the young pilot he was attempting to train.
“Oh,” Josh replied. “Good point. I’ll have to remember that.”
“Agreed.”
Josh pulled his nose up and added a bit of power, climbing out of the canyons into clear air. “How about you put me back in that canyon, just before the turn, and let me try it again, deck-level?” Josh suggested.
“Maybe next session,” the commander replied. “You’re approaching max VR time for the day.”
“Oh, come on,” Josh begged. “I could do this all day!”
The images, sounds, and sensations Josh was feeling suddenly faded away as the VR helmet disengaged Josh’s senses. All he could see was the inside of his VR helmet visor, and the sensation of sitting in the VR training bay returned, instead of the cockpit of a Reaper.
“We don’t want to fry your brain, Mister Hayes,” Commander Verbeek reminded him as he lifted the VR helmet off of Josh’s head. “Four hours yesterday, and four today, is already pushing the limits.”
Josh looked around as the helmet cleared his head, spotting Nathan, Jessica, and Loki standing to his right, smiling. “What? I suppose you all did better?”
“I cleared the ridge with a deck-level attitude,” Loki bragged, “and I successfully inserted my passengers into their LZ.”
“Same here,” Nathan added.
Josh looked at Jessica.
“Don’t look at me,” Jessica replied. “I slammed into the side of the canyon and killed everyone, including myself.”
“Remind me not to ride with you,” Nathan teased.
“Yeah, but you all wanted to try going vertical, didn’t you?” Josh insisted. “Deck-level is easy, but if there had been stingers on your asses, you’d all be as dead as her,” he added, pointing at Jessica.
“Hey, unlike you three, I never claimed to be a pilot.”
“Piloting is only a small part of being an aviator,” Commander Verbeek stated as he put Josh’s VR helmet back in its cradle. “Knowing what your ship can and cannot do is another, as are how the environment in which you are operating affects your ship’s performance. All of you are well aware of this, except for Jessica, who of course has the excuse of never having gone through formal flight training. But the mission itself has an enormous impact on your decision-making process. This is what separates pilots from aviators. Anyone can push buttons and get the ship from point A to point B. I could teach an ape to do that.”
“Gee, thanks,” Jessica said.
Commander Verbeek ignored her. “And any well-trained pilot can yank, bank, and blast their way out of trouble. But true aviators manage to avoid getting their ships into situations that require such radical actions. Unfortunately, that is something that is very difficult to teach. You either have the mindset, or you do not.”
“So, what’s the verdict with us?” Jessica wondered.
“You should limit your piloting to non-combat situations, where only button pushing is required,” the commander told her, trying to be as polite as possible. “Captain Scott and Mister Sheehan both seem to have a natural aviator mindset, and should do well under any circumstances.”
“What about me?” Josh wondered.
Commander Verbeek sighed. “Mister Hayes, you have an unfortunate condition, one that is very difficult to overcome.”
“What’s that?” Josh asked, looking concerned.
“You are simply too good at flying. Your natural instincts are so good that they override the good aviator side of you. You never have any doubts that you can pull off a maneuver, no matter how difficult it may be. That refusal to consider the possibility of failure is likely to get you into trouble.”
“Trust me, it already has,” Loki remarked.
“But I always find a way out,” Josh insisted.
“But at what price?” the commander asked. “Again, to the aviator, it is about the mission, not about the flying. You would be wise to remind yourself of that every time you strap yourself into a flight seat.”
Josh said nothing, but did not look happy with the commander’s assessment.
“That will be all for today,” the commander insisted. “We’ll pick up again tomorrow morning, at zero nine thirty.”
“When are we going to learn how to fly a Ranni shuttle?” Nathan asked.
“We’re still working on the program,” the commander answered, “so it will be a few more days.”
“We’re supposed to pick them up the day after tomorrow,” Jessica said.
>
“Don’t worry,” Loki insisted. “Ranni shuttles are fully automated and really easy to fly. They were designed that way, so that pretty much anyone could fly them.”
“Are you sure?” Nathan wondered.
“Trust me, if you can fly a Reaper, you can fly a Ranni with your eyes closed,” Loki promised.
“Good,” Nathan said. “Come on, Hotdog,” he told Josh, “Let’s go get some chow.”
“Seriously, I was just seeing what a Reaper could do, honest!” Josh defended as he rose to follow the others out the door.
* * *
Captain Hunt sat at his usual table overlooking the sprawling Sydney spaceport complex. For years now, it had been his custom to enjoy a meal at this restaurant whenever his ship was in orbit around Earth. He had spent nearly six months living in the area after he had ended up stranded there once the Intrepid had gone down, taking out a large section of Sydney in the process.
Perhaps it was the connections he had made with the people and the area during his brief residency. Or perhaps, it had been the guilt he had felt that the ship he had once served on had caused so much death and destruction to the very people it was built to protect. Whatever the reason, he seemed compelled to visit this very spot as often as his flight schedule allowed, in order to witness its continued rise from the ashes.
Of course, after eight years, most of the scars on the great city were healed. There were sections still under construction, and there were, of course, numerous monuments and parks dedicated to the memory of those who had perished on that dreadful day. In fact, unless one knew where to look, one would be hard-pressed to tell the city of Sydney had ever suffered a catastrophic incident.
Today, however, the captain’s visit served a dual purpose, one he was most excited about. The last six years of his life had been the most mundane of his existence. Once he had resigned his commission in the Earth Defense Force, he had spent several years working his way up from helmsman to captain, in the burgeoning interstellar shipping community. For the last two years, he had commanded an Alliance-built, but privately-crewed, cargo ship, of the same design as those used to resupply Alliance warships all over the Sol sector. It had been a rather routine assignment; endless cycles of taking on cargo, spending a few days jumping to destinations on the fringes of Alliance space, off-loading, and then jumping their way back. The entire process was one he could have done in his sleep. In fact, he was surprised the entire thing had yet to be completely automated, since so many other tasks once trusted only to humans had recently become.
But, while it had none of the glory and prestige associated with the command of a warship, it also had none of the risks. Or at least, that’s what Captain Hunt kept telling himself. The truth of the matter was, he never would have been given command of an Alliance warship. Not only had he served under Nathan Scott and Cameron Taylor, but he had also served as helmsman on two ships that had both been destroyed. Not that the destruction of either vessel had been his fault, but combined, it was enough of an excuse for the leader who replaced Travon Dumar to prevent him from furthering his career in the Alliance.
He was surprised he had been allowed to command a cargo ship contracted by the Alliance. He was certain his current position was the result of a clerical error.
Or was it destiny?
The more he thought about it over the last few days, ever since that call from Miranda Scott, the more he had come to believe it truly was fate that had put him in command of the Perryton. And so, he had decided to run with that belief, which was the true reason he had been sitting in this restaurant, picking at his food for the last hour.
“Well, if it isn’t the sector’s worst helmsman,” a voice accused.
Captain Hunt recognized the voice, and looked up, smiling. “Denny,” he greeted, shaking the man’s hand. “Still skin and bones, I see.”
“Still short and cocky, I see,” Denny countered. “How long has it been?” he wondered as he took his seat. “Six years?”
“Seven, I believe.”
“How have you been?” Denny asked as he picked up the menu.
“Busy, bored, but employed.”
“Last I heard you were piloting cargo ships for Walton Cargo.”
“I’m captain now,” Captain Hunt bragged.
“Someone gave Chris Hunt a captain’s chair?” Denny laughed. “Do they know how many ships you’ve crashed?”
“Zero,” Chris reminded his old comrade. “There’s a difference between crashing, and being shot down.”
“Not to the ship, there isn’t,” Denny teased. “What are you running?”
“An Alliance cargo jump ship,” Chris said. “One of those long, modular, ugly bastards.”
“The Alliance gave you a ship? Whose ass did you have to kiss?”
“I think it was an accident, to be honest. But a lucky one.”
“Is the pay decent?”
“Good enough, for a single captain.”
“You never married?”
“Not yet.”
“Me, either. Too busy, I suppose.”
“What have you been up to?” Chris wondered.
“I became a general contractor here in Sydney,” Denny explained.
“You must be doing well, then.”
“I was. It was like printing money in the beginning. But now work is getting a bit more scarce. We’re hoping things will pick up once people start moving back into the city, but…”
“Yeah. The jump drive is both a blessing and a curse, I suppose.” Chris admitted. “Everyone wants to go someplace else; someplace fresh.”
“If we can just get people on other worlds to believe the grass is greener here on Earth,” Denny said, “particularly here in Sydney…”
“Well, luckily, cargo shipping is always in demand,” Chris said. “Have you ever considered getting back in the navigator’s chair?”
“Is that why you called me?” Denny wondered. “To offer me a job?”
“Sort of,” Chris admitted. “Actually, I’m trying to round up as many of the old gang as possible.”
“What ‘old gang’ are you referring to?” Denny wondered.
Captain Hunt looked around, trying not to raise suspicion as he pulled a small device from his pocket and activated it. A second later, the sounds of the restaurant disappeared, and they were in complete silence.
Denny looked suspiciously at Chris. “A sound suppression field? Seriously? What’s up, Chris? What ‘gang’ are you referring to?”
“Those who served under Nathan Scott,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.
“Scott? Why?”
His smile became broader. “Because he’s still alive, and he needs us.”
* * *
“For Christ’s sake, kid!” Marcus bellowed. “Are you ever going to do any real work around here?”
“Sorry, old man,” Josh apologized, although only halfheartedly, “but my skills are in demand elsewhere,” he joked, walking backwards away from the Seiiki’s cargo ramp.
“Skill’s my ass,” Marcus grumbled. “Pushing buttons and moving a little joystick around. I never should have let him play all those vid-games when he was growing up.”
“Then why did you?” Neli wondered.
“It was the only way to shut him up.”
“I heard that!” Josh yelled back at him, picking up his pace to catch up with Nathan and the other’s as they headed for the nearest Reaper.
“I still don’t understand why one of the Aurora’s pilot’s can’t fly us,” Jessica said.
“They’re all flying patrol sorties or recon missions,” Nathan explained. “We’re lucky we’re getting a Reaper at all.”
“This is going to be a blast,” Josh exclaimed as he caught up to them.
“I thought you said Reapers don’t fly as well as Falcons?” Loki reminded him.
“I lied,” Josh giggled. “They’re a fucking blast to fly, once you turn off all that automation crap.”
“Do us
a favor, Josh, and leave that automation crap on during the trip over,” Nathan suggested. “You can yank and bank all you want on the way back, when we’re not aboard.”
“Alright, but you’re taking all the fun out of it.”
Josh and Loki quickened their pace, leading Nathan and Jessica to the waiting Reaper. They moved under the overhead wing, from aft forward, meeting with the ground chief to review the ship’s condition, and sign her out before boarding.
Reaper Eight’s systems were already on and humming quietly as they climbed up into her passenger bay, just behind the port forward engine nacelle. Unlike the old Corinairan shuttles, the Alliance ships used engine nacelles with articulating thrust nozzles, much like those on the Seiiki’s main engines. The similarity had made their flight-handling characteristics quite easy for Josh to become accustomed to in a minimal amount of sim time.
Once all of them were inside, the ground chief activated the passenger pod hatch from outside, and stepped away.
Josh slid into the pilot’s seat, with Loki slipping into the copilot’s seat to his right. “Damn, they’ve already got her spun up and preflighted for us.” He looked at Loki. “Talk about service.”
“Kind of makes me uneasy,” Loki said. “I’m used to doing my own preflights.”
“These guys are pros, Lok,” Josh insisted. “Relax.”
“I never relax when you’re at the controls,” Loki insisted. “It’s too dangerous.”
For some reason, the comment tickled Josh to no end as he strapped himself in. “You guys settled in back there?” he called over his comm-set as he placed it on his head.
“We’re ready whenever you are,” Nathan replied.
“Lok, if you’ll do the honors,” Josh suggested.
“Aurora Flight, Reaper Eight, ready to cycle out.”
“Reaper Eight, Aurora Flight. Cleared to auto-cycle to starboard side, transfer airlock two.”
“Auto-cycle to starboard side, transfer airlock two, for Reaper Eight.” Loki acknowledged.
Josh fired a half-assed salute back to the ground chief outside his port window, then reached out and activated the auto-taxi system. The Reaper began to roll slowly forward, steering itself onto the pulsing yellow line which led to the transfer airlock that would take them to the starboard forward flight deck. “We’re rolling,” he announced over his comm-set.
