February 27th, 2279
150,000km from Mars
“Death Course”
‘Death Course’ lived up to its name. It had been almost second nature for Redding
The same course set on Mars would be difficult. The course up here was next to impossible. Most of the cadets had precious little time flying in space. Flight dynamics were not even comparable between the two. Half of the cadet pairs couldn’t keep from translating right off the course. A few managed to keep to the course, but encountered troubles when the course itself actually moved to knock them out. Finally it had come to Redding
Code-named Angel-Two, another one of Michaels’ poor-humor jokes, they had waited in their Swift for nearly three hours watching cadets slip and slide through space. Now that they were actually flying the course, they were struggling like the rest. Beasley’s aim was impeccable as always, and Shyla’s skills behind the stick were in full display. Even so, the course moved, flopped, twisted, and looped randomly making it extremely difficult to keep up. The navigation computer was useless, often bailing out completely and leaving Shyla to do most of the work. She furiously worked the manipulator, constantly changing vectors, attitude, pitch and roll.
Suddenly, the course jumped away. She veered to maintain position, but the course wouldn’t cooperate and Angel-Two exited the course. Shyla swore in frustration pounding the console. Beasley sighed and stretched his neck muscles.
“First de-qualification, Angel-Two. One more try. Return to starting coordinates and await restart,” Michaels said. Shyla thought she heard a hint of disappointment in his voice. It might have been her imagination, but even so, anger and frustration welled up inside her. She flipped the Swift over and headed for the marker forcing herself to calm down. Beasley ran through a few zen breathing exercises he’s picked up somewhere while they waited at the markers. After what seemed too long, Michaels finally came back on the line. “Proceed when ready.”
Shyla pulled her arms out of the manipulators and cracked her knuckles. The course markers faked tranquility as they quietly waited in their lines. She wouldn’t be beaten by markers, no way in hell. She gunned the engine and the Swift shot off into the course.
And almost immediately, Shyla was thrown off by a completely different dynamic then the first trip through. It had changed up everything making her rely completely on instinct and skill. Beasley was already blaring away on the repeater cannon taking out target after target while at the same time using the small polyhedron shield to block incoming shots. She watched the small blue energy field zip across her front cockpit window and to the left blocking a shot perfectly then zipping back to the other side again. Suddenly she realized the course markers had shifted. She desperately pitched up, bringing the nose back in line with the course, only to have it twist away again.
She kept fighting it, not letting it out of her sight for more than a moment. But it was getting more difficult. She was starting to sweat. Why couldn’t she keep up with it? It was too belligerent for random. It was… She got it. Sudden inspiration dawned on her and she let gut instinct take over, her conscious mind taking a back seat to her deeply-rooted flying skills. Suddenly the course became easy. She predicted every turn, roll, loop. Beasley became more animated as they got further along the course whooping and shouting insults at the targets he took out.
Then suddenly it was over. They were through. Shyla blinked and came back to herself.
“Amazing! Absolutely amazing, Angel-Two. I’ve never seen the Death Course beaten so thoroughly. Well done!” Michaels was practically cheering over the radio. There were groans from some of the other pilots, and Michaels curbed his enthusiasm. “Angel-Two passes. Return to Deimos and await debriefing. Next up, Fury-Four, your turn.”
Beasley was breathing heavily in the backseat, but was obviously thrilled, his deep laugh coming through the locksuit. Shyla allowed a small smile as she set course for Deimos Station.
11-18-07
She had to bank sharply suddenly as the collision warning alarm began flashing. Another Swift barreled past them performing a roll on the way out. Shyla growled and righted her trainer. It was definitely Fury-Four, Sasha’s trainer. Sasha and Stefan Drake, her GIB, had been unusually quiet these past weeks, but Shyla knew they’d been practicing almost every waking hour in the simulators. Maybe that fly-by was a challenge? Maybe she felt she was ready? Shyla killed forward momentum and swung the nose around back towards the Course.
“What’s up, Shyla?” Nate said without any apprehension.
“I want to see them run the course. They’ve been working hard.”
“Yeah, I heard they were getting damned good. They might beat our time,” Nate said as he yawned a bit.
“So, we’ll watch.”
“Right, right.”
They watched Sasha line up at the course start. There was very little communication from the trainer except in response to Michaels. Finally, he gave them the go ahead, and Shyla watched the flare of the Swift’s engines as it blasted forward into the course.
Sasha’s trainer moved easily within the course, and likewise, Stefan was on his game taking out every target and blocking every incoming shot. Even when the course began to twist and turn, Sasha kept with it. Shyla, despite herself, began rooting for Sasha to make it through.
“They’re doing well,” Nate commented from the backseat. He had his hands behind his head, stretched out as much as he could in the cramped cockpit. He was watching the course through a floating holo-display in front of him.
“Better than we did the first time. She must’ve figured out the trick to it sooner.”
“Trick?”
“What? You didn’t get it?”
“No, I just shot what I saw. You know…it’s what I do.”
“Trick is that it’s Michaels who’s controlling the course. It’s not pre-programmed. So, once you know that, you can predict what he’d do to throw you off.”
“Ah. Fascinating. Why didn’t you figure that out sooner?”
“Well,” she stopped, “Hey…you didn’t even figure it out at all.”
He laughed. “Sure, evade the answer.”
Shyla turned her attention back to Sasha and Stefan, expertly running the so-called ‘Death Course’. Eventually, they made it through on their first try. Michaels was even more congratulatory than he was with Shyla and Nate.
“I guess we lost that record,” Nate said sounding bored. “Can we go back now? I’m hungry.”
“Roger that,” she said after a moment. Shyla hadn’t intended on competing with Sasha, and even though a part of her was happy for her victory to spite Michaels, another small part of her was jealous that she’d lost the record so soon after obtaining it. Oh well, there’ll always be a next time.
Later that afternoon, Shyla and Nate attended their award ceremony. Sergeant-Major Michaels stood in attendance in his best dress uniform as well as most of the Class. Sasha and Stefan had also attended surprisingly. The officer in charge of Deimos station, a certain Colonel of high renown led the ceremony giving a small speech praising their actions and also giving a semi-official report of what had happened. Apparently, a small meteorite of unusually large density penetrated the polyhedron shield and impacted one of the couplings mooring the segment to the gravity ring. Emergency procedures locked it down and disconnected the other coupling before it unbalanced the entire ring, ejecting the damaged section out away from the station.
After the speech, Nate and Shyla were presented their Merit awards and the crowd applauded. Afterwards they separated to mingle through the crowd. They received claps on the back, words of congratulations, and handshakes from high-ranking officers of Deimos station. It was an impressive evening and Shyla felt that her career as a pilot had finally begun. With Nate as her GIB, there would be no obstacles they couldn’t overcome.
Shyla stopped herself a moment. Just two weeks prior she had absolutely despised the man, and now she felt unstoppable with him at her side. She tried to think on when that change occurred but she mostly just remembered Michaels setting her up. Funny thing was, now that she looked back on it, with so much that had happened, it didn’t infuriate her as much as it had back then. Had she really changed?
“…Shyla,” someone was saying patiently. She was pulled from her thoughts.
“Oh hi Nate, enjoying yourself?”
“Absolutely,” he waved with one of his big smiles at a couple of passing female cadets who giggled in response. “Michaels wants to see us,” he said without breaking eye-contact with the cadets. “Said it was important.”
“Where is he?”
“The private room over there. I think something big’s going on.”
“Well, let’s go then,” she said walking towards the room. Nate took a second to realize she left him and he jogged to catch up.
When they entered the room, Michaels wasn’t alone. That Colonel, James Hawthorne, was there, as was someone else Shyla didn’t recognize, but from his uniform held the rank of an Admiral. Sasha and Stefan were also in attendance. Nate and Shyla both stopped after entering and saluted. The Colonel and the Admiral returned the salute and the Admiral placed them at ease.
“This is both groups?” the Admiral said.
“Yes sir,” Michaels said. “They’re the best of my class.”
The Admiral harrumphed and walked behind the four cadets. “So he says. But what I see is two pairs of irresponsible, undisciplined rookies. How do I know you’ll hold up under fire?”
“With all due respect, sir, Redding
The Admiral waved Michaels to be silent. “Yes yes, they saved the station segment. An impressive feat indeed. They also passed your course Sergeant-Major,” he said waving at Vermanov and Drake. “But that’s not what I’m looking for. What I need to know, is can they handle true pressure? I want to give them one last test.”
He stopped pacing and came in front of the four. “Currently, the UTF Navy is putting together a special mission. We need some special pilots. I’ve gone to all the Academies and pulled the best and brightest. I was impressed with all the cadets but you. You four have yet to impress me. If you do, you will automatically earn graduated status and become full-fledged Navy pilots. This mission will undoubtedly further your career beyond your wildest expectations if everything works out. But only if I allow you to go, and trust me, right now that’s a big if.
“Tomorrow at oh-eight-thirty will be a transport leaving for Ares Naval Shipyards orbiting Mars on the other side. You will take the transport there. When you arrive, you will be given the details of your final test. You pass the test, you graduate. Otherwise, you stay here. Any questions?”
“Yes sir,” Shyla said unable to resist. “This mission, can you be more specific?”
“No, not at this time.”
“Then why would I want to take it?” Michaels and Hawthorne both choked. Sasha turned red and glared at her.
“Ah, you must be Shyla Redding. I’ve heard of your, how shall I say this, lack of tact. Let me put it this way, Trainee, you’ve been specially chosen for a very special mission. But I don’t think you have what it takes. Your attitude definitely hasn’t proven to me otherwise. Of course, if you wish to turn down such an unheard of request, you don’t need to take the test. You can stay here with your fellow cadets; maybe get a position flying cargo from the Pluto factories.”
Shyla turned red slightly. “I apologize for my lack of respect, sir.”
“So you can be humble. Fantastic. Colonel Hawthorne,” he spun around to the Colonel hiding in a corner. “Make sure these four have transport to Ares in the morning. They need to be there by oh-eight-thirty. Sergeant-Major, you will accompany them and oversee the test. I will see you there. Good evening,” the Admiral said as he turned to leave the room. He paused at the door briefly, “Oh, and congratulations on your citations. They were most deserved,” he said with a wicked sneer and left.
“Who the hell was that guy,” Shyla said as soon as the door had closed. The Colonel coughed.
“That was Rear Admiral Steiner. He’s one of the top brass running the UTF Navy. What the hell were you thinking, Redding?” Michaels said. “I’m not entirely sure what is going on myself, but he is not a man you want to aggravate. I’ve been too lenient on you, Redding
“I don’t understand why he’d picked just us four,” Sasha said.
“Like he said,” Hawthorne
“Colonel, I need to make sure there’s transport for them in the morning.”
“Actually, with Ares on the other side of the planet, to make it there by oh-eight-thirty, they need to leave in the next twenty minutes with a stop-off planet side. That’s the only way they’d make it in time.”
“Are you ‘erious?” Stefan said for the first time. “Le’s ge’ the ‘ell outta ‘ere! I ‘on’t ‘ant to be ‘ate!”
“What did he just say?” the Colonel said scratching his head.
Sasha sighed in exasperation, “Nevermind, sir. But we really need to leave, are we dismissed?”
Michaels saluted them, “Dismissed. Good luck, people,” he then turned to the Colonel. “Sir, if I may, we need to get them a transport.”
“Right, this way,” he said leading them out of the room.
Shyla didn’t recall much of what happened over the next twenty minutes, except for a blur of packing, floating, running and swearing. She and Nate barely managed to get to the docking ring on time. Sasha and Stefan were already there, packed and ready to go. This annoyed Shyla.
Michaels met them at the airlock and they all entered the shuttle together. The trip down to the surface took nearly an hour. There they stayed at the base, sleeping on uncomfortable lounge chairs waiting for the next shuttle to the Ares Shipyard. Finally it came around, and the five headed up to Ares. When they arrived, they had slept less than three hours and it was already almost eight. Shyla was starting to think that Steiner had planned for this to happen from the get-go.
Ares Shipyards was a massive series of stations in loose orbit around Mars. They were responsible for the construction of most of the UTF Navy’s ships. Massive gantries and dry docks all floated in synchronous orbit with the Ares Station itself, many occupied by ships of the fleet. To say the site was impressive was an understatement. The shuttle they had been on took a scenic route to the docking bay, giving them glimpses of some of the latest Naval vessels: carriers, destroyers, battleships, dreadnaughts – the pride of the United Terran Federation Navy.
When they completed docking, an ensign of the UTF Navy welcomed them aboard and began to lead them to the expansive hangar bays of the Shipyard. The four cadets stared in awe as they floated through the bay. There had to have been room for at least three hundred wings of fighters. Several sections were occupied by fighters already. Excited, as they were his hobby, Stefan began reciting specifications and names of the fighters in his Europan gibberish. Sasha seemed to be the only one who could understand him.
Finally, the ensign brought them to a pair of Switchblade space superiority fighters. The four stared and marveled at their beauty. They had fine lines and were said to be the best fighters in the UTF inventory. The Switchblades had three forward-angled wings running from a sign point between the three main engines, making the fighter look like a backwards three-finned arrow. The wings were variable-geometry giving the fighter its name. “These are for us?” Sasha asked.
The ensign nodded. “The Admiral said he didn’t want you to think you weren’t being given a fair chance. He also wanted me to tell you that you will board these fighters and travel to the coordinates you’ll be getting for Ares Control. Then await further instructions. Sergeant-Major, the Admiral would like you to watch from the Control Tower, I will take you there.”
“Understood,” Michaels said, leaving them with a shrug.
Shyla ran her hand over the smooth surface of the Switchblade. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“No sense in talking about it, let’s go,” Sasha said.
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