by Leslie Lee
The launch crewman reached in after him and started connecting cables which would feed him, empty his bladder, breathe for him, keep him alive. As Mak sank softly into the cushions of the couch-like chair, he pulled on his helmet, the only piece of the flight suit kept in the pod itself. It had a non-reflecting black finish, even the seemingly opaque visor. The helmet fitted seamlessly to his collar. He pulled from a pocket thin rubber-like gloves that cemented themselves to his sleeves. He was now complete. The suit and helmet transformed him into a matte black figure. Though his cockpit provided a harbor of life support, the suit would allow a few minutes of survival in the event of a catastrophe. The couch he lay on connected him intimately with the machine around him. Some named their pods, interacting with them, bestowing personalities via AI into their craft. Not Mak. For him, there was neither pod nor pilot anymore. The crewman finished quickly and slapped Mak on the helmet, then jumped back. Mak looked up. They gave a thumbs up and saluted. The crewman was clear of the hatch. Mak breathed a command and the pod slammed the hatch shut. He knew the crewman would be securing the exterior hatch sealing his launch bay from the Launch Command area.
Quickly, one after another, seven blue lights lit up on his console. Mak flicked on his comm.
"Blue Box Launch Commander, Blue Box reports launch active," he murmured.
"Squad Ops, this is Blue Box Launch Commander. Blue Box declares launch active."
Now came the part he could hardly stand.
Squad Ops could command a launch, or keep them on standby. And if it was standby, then all the adrenaline would leech away leaving him drained, completely at the mercy of somebody else's decision. They could sit there for hours without going anywhere only to be told to stand down and that would be that. Maybe it was a drill. Then, at least, they'd be able to get out.
Telli came on the line. "Blue Box Launch Commander." Her voice was calm and assured. She liked to give the command if she could. "Squad Ops confirms Blue Box has a go."
The Blue Box Launch Commander spoke, "Roger that, Squad Ops, and thank you. Blue Box, you have a go. Launch on my mark."
All lights green, engines at nominal. Eyes on the black doors barring his way. Breath shallow, pulse slow, be calm, be calm.
"Three."
The pod's engines powered up, rumbling against his spine, throbbing a heartbeat. Calm, be calm.
"Two."
Gravity zeroed. Clamps released. Weapons off safety. Be Calm.
"One."
The X burst open the doors of each bay, cleaving her fantastical armor.
"Mark."
Thought->action and Blue Box blasted into space, the doors slamming shut behind them.
Calm.
Pods. Nothing more than some fool strapped to a ridiculous amount of fuel and weapons. Deadly in every way possible. Especially to the pilots. They weren't flown like other craft. There were no obvious controls. Instead, they were controlled via the flight suit and helmet. Commands were sometimes spoken but they were rare. Control was by the merest suggestion detected by the suit then sent to the pod. Pilots even had a name for that special talent: the Calm. And either someone had it or they didn't. Be Calm was the unofficial motto of the pilot. Be Calm. Internally not externally. Mak and Th'han'dra looked calm and were Calm. Zin Zin looked like she was on twenty different kinds of drugs all battling over her bouncy little body. Inside she was hard ice. Those who couldn't make the cut might look calm but they couldn't control the micro movements necessary to keep the pod from dancing.
Dancing.
It was the unofficial term for a pod which only barely managed to maintain control. As the instructors put it so plainly, You Dance, You Die. All pilots would dance every now and then to relieve stress. But in combat, you had to be Calm. Some cadets would be able to maintain control in normal conditions but lost it when stressed. They washed out in training, usually by dying. Some couldn't even make it out of the launch bays. They'd crash into the sides, pinballing around the inside of the ship before somebody could shut them down. Be Calm. And if a pilot lost it in combat, then the chances for survival were practically nonexistent. Then there was the opposite of the dance. The freeze. Just as deadly as the dance, it usually followed some close call. The pilot would freeze up on the micro-gestures needed for control, or the gestures would become hugely exaggerated. So large, the pod would simply ignore the commands. Either way, the pod would just keep on doing whatever it was doing last. Even if that meant heading out into space which wasn't all that bad since pilots were always retrieved, or, disastrously, right into the side of some large solid object, a planet for instance.
But the things a pod and a pilot could do? This solitude, this power, this danger, this connection to his finest abilities, this was Freedom.
Blue Box had deployed throughout the rock cloud along with other squads. Nobody had found anything. Not a piece of a pod, not a shred of clothing, not a fingernail. The Gold Ghost energy trails simply ceased.
"Come home, lost little lambs," Zin Zin said wistfully.
He was near enough to watch her observing a rock twenty times as big as the pod. The pod's sensors easily penetrated it. She was so close to it that she reached out with a grappler arm and punched it, breaking off a chunk of stone. Grapplers were fully articulated arms with three fingers and a thumb at the end. The fingers held various instruments. Normally, the arms were tucked close to the pods body. Punching rocks was not usually recommended.
He signaled her. "Anything?"
"Yeah." Disgust etched her voice. "It's a goddamned rock."
"On the outside," he said mildly
There was silence. Suddenly, Zin Zin spun around and headed away.
"Blue Box clear!" Mak barked into the comm flinging himself away from the area. Knowing Zin Zin, she'd forget to warn the nearby pods.
"Fire in the hole!" Zin Zin shouted gleefully. A missile streaked out and slammed into the rock. The massive explosion disintegrated the rock into a cloud of dust and pebbles.
"Goddammit!" snapped the voice of Diego, the duty Squad Op Commander, his voice tense and angry. "What the hell are you people shooting at?"
"Squad Ops, this is Blue Box Leader. We're examining the rock cloud for hidden dangers."
"Hidden dangers?" he sputtered. "Hidden dangers?"
"Blue Box Leader," Telli said, her voice just a little strained. "We need a little warning if you wouldn't mind. Half the fleet just lit up."
He noticed a couple of Hammers and some Raptors edging closer to their position. He grinned. Everybody wanted a slice of the action.
"Roger that, Squad Ops."
Meanwhile the other pods had taken to randomly destroying big rocks.
"What did you find out?" Telli asked.
Mak looked at the expanding debris field. "It's a rock."
He looked around for something to destroy as well. It would ease his tension. And boredom. If there'd been something here, it was long gone. Along with Gold Ghost.
His comm beeped. "Exeter squads, rendezvous with the M'hin'rah. Enemy has been detected."
Now this was more like it. He didn't need to tell Blue Box to form up. Along with two other X squads, Indigo Ice and Copper Coin, they quickly exited the rock cloud. The Hammer class M'hin'rah, and two Raptors, smaller than the heavy cruiser were already leaving formation. The squads quickly caught up with the three ships. Some of the pods ranged ahead. Mak's tactical showed the contact. A slow moving blip at the furthest reaches of the sensors. It was doubtful they even knew they'd been detected yet. It was a mere ten minutes of flight to get within range to identify the opposition.
"Transport ships," Th'han'dra reported. Three pods including Th'han'dra's had run point for the formation. "Three. No significant weapons. Showing many life signs. Civilians."
The M'hin'rah was already relaying the information to the fleet. Mak grimaced at the news. Sardine cans. It meant no action. They'd leave them alone and head back. Most of the pods had already started falling behind anticipating the recall or
der.
Given the number of transports heading off their home world, it looked like this war wasn't very popular with the Kyrzal. These transports packed with families were among the hundreds heading to off world refugee camps. Only an idiot would think the Unity wasn't going to punish the Kyrzal home world. Only a complete idiot would stick around to see what that looked like.
The M'hin'rah comm officer came on. "Orders from Cobra Command. We are to destroy the enemy convoy."
The sudden bursts of "Say again" and "Please repeat" from the squad leaders and Raptor captains threatened to overwhelm the comm. Mak was too flabbergasted to say anything. Attack a civilian convoy? Had they lost their minds? This had to be a mistake.
The order was repeated.
Mak wedged in a statement. "M'hin'rah, this is Blue Box Leader. Request permission to investigate the convoy for signs of our men."
"Blue Box Leader," said M'hin'rah's comm officer. "Permission is denied. Repeat, permission denied."
"M'hin'rah, if this convoy has our men, we should search and rescue."
"Blue Box Leader, I say again, our orders are to destroy the convoy. All squad leaders, please have your pods clear the target."
They were virtually on top of the three transport ships. The Kyrzal had come to a standstill. Standard operating procedure for the civilians who wanted no part of the war.
Th'han'dra suddenly came on. "The convoy is contacting us. They are giving permission for boarding."
It was a courtesy. They couldn't