“We’ll survive,” FM answered. “Though it is odd with him gone. There’s no one to constantly explain things to me that I already know.”
“What a strange flight you must have,” Drama said. “I know Jorgen, and I’ll bet he doesn’t open his mouth except to give you an order or chew you out. Right? And Spin is obviously quiet. So your flights must be silent. Our line is always filled with chatter, even with only four of us.”
Her flightmates defended themselves in a good-natured way, but I found myself stuck on that line about me. Quiet? They thought I was quiet?
I supposed I had been pretty reserved lately. But quiet? I honestly didn’t think I’d ever been described that way in my entire life. Huh.
Dinner broke up, and after we cleared our table, FM nodded toward our bunk. “Heading back to rest? Or doing some PT?”
“Neither,” I said. “I think I need a walk tonight.” Actually, I needed to check on M-Bot and Doomslug. It had been a few days.
“Suit yourself.” She hesitated. “Hey, you still worried about Arturo? He’ll get to fly, just not on missions.”
“Sure,” I said. “I know.” Stars. Days later, and she thought I still needed consoling?
I left the base. I really should have gone and done some PT, but I felt guilty for leaving M-Bot alone for so long. I’d dropped in a few times to help Rig with the booster, but now that I lived on base, it was tough to find the time. I wanted to savor the privileges I’d been denied so long.
The skylights had dimmed to indicate night, and the air was cool as I made the familiar trek over the dusty ground. It was refreshing to get away from the sights and smells of Alta, to simply be out under the sky again.
I reached the cavern and let myself down with my light-line, bracing for the inevitable string of complaints. M-Bot was not fond of my new sleeping arrangements. He was convinced he was going to rot away, his personality subroutines degrading from lack of use.
I reached the ground. “Hey,” I said, my voice echoing.
“Hey!” Doomslug was on a rock nearby. I shined my light on her, then walked over and scratched her head.
“Massacrebot?” I said into the darkness.
“We still have to discuss that nickname,” his voice said. “I never agreed to it.”
“If you don’t pick a good callsign, someone else will pick one for you. It’s how these things go.” I smiled, walking up to the ship, expecting him to go off on some tangent. But he was silent as I approached. Was something wrong?
“Well?” he said. “Well?”
“Uh…” What did I do this time?
“Are you excited!” he asked. “Are you just about ready to burst! Isn’t it great!”
Great?
The booster, I realized with a start. Rig had finished installing it. I’d done a terrible job of tracking his progress—I’d been so busy these few weeks. But his tools were gone, the area cleaned up, and a note was taped to the back of M-Bot’s fuselage.
Doomslug was sitting on the wing near the note. “Stupid junky piece of worthless imitation life,” she said in a fluting imitation of Rig’s voice. “Scud! Scud! Scud! Scudding scud and stupid scud!”
“Careful, girl,” I said. “You’ll get recruited for the ground crews with a mouth like that.”
She produced a sequence of bangs, mimicking the sound of a hammer on metal—something she’d probably heard a lot of the last few weeks.
I picked up the note. Done, the note read. I was going to take it up and test it, but I felt you should get the first shot. Besides, I wouldn’t put it past the AI to crash me on purpose.
Working on this ship has been the most wonderful experience of my life (don’t tell M-Bot that). The designs I’ve drawn…the things I’ve learned…I’m going to change the DDF, Spin. I’m going to transform the entire way we fly and fight. I’ve not only been approved for the Engineering Corps, I’ve been offered a position directly in design. I start tomorrow.
Thank you for giving me the chance to find, in this work, my own dreams. Enjoy your ship. I hope that it is, in turn, what you have always dreamed it would be.
I lowered the note, looking up along M-Bot’s dangerous, razorlike wings. The ship’s landing lights flashed on, setting a glow along his length. My ship.
My. Ship.
“Well?” M-Bot said. “Are we going to go flying?”
“Scud, yes!”
“Acclivity ring, online,” M-Bot said as we slowly rose into the air. “Booster and maneuvering, online. Life support, online. Communications and stealth features, online. Light-lance and IMP antishield blast, online.”
“Not bad, Rig,” I said.
“Destructors are still offline,” M-Bot said. “As are self-repair features and cytonic hyperdrive.”
“Well, since I still don’t know what that last one is, we’ll take it as a net win. Are your stealth features engaged?”
“Of course. You promise we aren’t going into combat today. Right?”
“No combat,” I promised. “Just a quick flight to test that booster.”
We rose through the fake ceiling of the cavern and I felt myself growing tense, excited. I’d been flying every day, but this was different. M-Bot’s control panel somehow made the most complex of the DDF ships seem simple, so I stuck to the buttons I understood.
The open sky called. I tried to relax, settling back into my seat. The control sphere, throttle, and altitude lever were exactly like the ones I knew. I could do this.
“Are you ready?” M-Bot asked.
In response, I slammed on the overburn.
We blasted forward, and his advanced g-force management immediately kicked in. I expected to get pressed back in my seat, but I barely felt it, even on full overburn.
“Scuuuud,” I said softly.
“Nice, isn’t it?” M-Bot said. “I’m far better than those other ships you waste your time with.”
“Can we accelerate even faster than this?”
“Not on one booster. But I’m outfitted with two slots for smaller boosters under the wings, so it’s possible.”
We accelerated a little slower than a Poco—which made sense, considering we were heavier than one but using the same booster. I noticed a real difference, however, as we got to speed. We blazed past Mag-6, Mag-7, Mag-8…Scud, in a Poco, the ship would be shaking itself almost to pieces right now. But M-Bot hit Mag-10 and I couldn’t even tell. It was as smooth a ride as if I were at Mag-1.
I tried some maneuvers at speed, and the controls were incredibly responsive. It had been a while since I’d overcompensated for turns by accident, but I got the hang of it quickly. I slowed to normal dogfighting speeds, and practiced some banks and then some starship turns.
It all went so well that I accelerated to Mag-3 again, then performed some complex dodging moves. Swerves, spins, and a sharp loop at the end with an overburn on the descent.
It was perfect. This was perfect.
I really needed to get Rig up in this thing. Or perhaps Jorgen. I owed him one, for helping me get the booster. He’d be grouchy about being forced to come out all the way to my hole—since Jorgen was grouchy about basically everything—but surely he’d enjoy the flying. Soaring, free from constraints and expectations, and…
And…why was I following this line of thought again? I shook my head, throwing myself back into the flying. “Think about how great you’d be in battle,” I said to M-Bot.
“You promised.”
“I promised not to take you into combat tonight,” I said. “But I never promised I wouldn’t try to change your mind. Why are you scared?”
“I’m not scared. I’m following orders. Besides, what good would I be in combat? I don’t have destructors.”
“You don’t need those. Your IMP is working and so is your light-lance. With your maneuvera
bility and those tools, we could devastate the Krell. They’ll be left chasing our shadow, then our shadow will consume theirs! This is going to be incredible!”
“Spin,” he said. “My orders are to stay out of combat.”
“We can find a way to change those. Don’t worry.”
“Um…” He sounded unconvinced. “Maybe…maybe we can do something to satisfy your strange human desires without going into an actual fight. You wish for a thrill? What if I projected a battle for you?”
“You mean like a simulator?”
“Kind of! I can project an augmented-reality hologram right onto your canopy, which will make you think you’re in a combat situation. That way, you can pretend to try to get yourself killed, while I don’t have to disobey my orders!”
“Huh,” I said, curious. Well, at the very least, it would let me test his responsiveness in a simulation. “Let’s do it.”
“Go to eleven thousand feet, and I’ll drop you into the Battle of Alta.”
“But I gave that data case back to Cobb.”
“I made a copy.” He hesitated for a moment. “Was that bad? I thought maybe you’d want to—”
“No, no it’s fine. It’s the only battle you can simulate for me though?”
“It’s the only one where I have proper three-D renderings. Is this a problem? Oh! Your father. This is the battle where your father became a traitor, something to which you are emotionally vulnerable because of your feelings of betrayal and inadequacy! Whoops.”
“It’s fine.”
“I could instead try to—”
“It’s fine,” I said, putting the ship at the altitude he’d stated, using maneuvering thrusters to settle us. “Start the simulation.”
“All right, all right. No need to get grouchy just because I insulted you.”
In a flash I appeared inside a battle.
It was like the simulations, except I was in a real ship. Everything holographic glowed and was slightly transparent, like I was surrounded by ghosts—which had to be so that I could distinguish reality and avoid accidentally flying us into a cliff face or something.
M-Bot said he was merely projecting all this on my canopy, but it looked three-dimensional to me. And the fighting was amazingly realistic, particularly when I hit my booster and launched into it—M-Bot even did his best to generate sounds in the cockpit as ships buzzed past us.
“I can simulate destructors,” M-Bot said, “though you don’t have any installed.”
I grinned, then fell into position with a pair of DDF fighters. When I dove, targeting a Krell ship that someone else IMPed, M-Bot was able to edit the simulation—so my target exploded in a satisfying flash of light.
“All right,” I said. “How do I activate proximity sensors?”
“I can activate them. Done.”
“Convenient. What else can you do by verbal command?”
“I have access to communications and stealth features, and I can reignite the shield for you. By galactic law, however, I am forbidden control of boosters and weapons systems—including the IMP. I have no physical connection to these systems except for diagnostic purposes.”
“All right then,” I said. “Turn on flightleader chatter—let me hear the recordings as if they were happening in real time.”
“Done,” he said, as the radio came on. “Be aware that the audio might not sync with visuals as you interfere with the progress of the battle.”
I nodded, then threw myself into the fight.
And it was magnificent. I banked and shot, IMPed and boosted. I spun through a virtual battlefield full of flashing lights, exploding ships, and desperate fighters. I flew a ship with unparalleled maneuverability, and felt myself adapting to it, taking increasing advantage. I downed four Krell in a half hour—a personal record—without taking anything but a few glancing blows to my shield.
Best of all, it was safe. None of my friends were in danger. It was a completely new level of simulation, but still without the threat to anyone’s life.
Afraid, a piece of me whispered. Afraid of battle. Afraid of loss. That was a near-constant voice now.
I worked up a sweat, my heart thumping. I focused on a Krell that had been sprayed with destructors by another ship. That shield might be close to being down. I took aim, and—
A ship darted past me, firing destructors, beating me to the attack and blasting the ship into oblivion. I knew him instantly. My father.
Another ship took wingmate position behind my father.
“M-Bot,” I said, feeling a tremor inside me. “Give me audio on those two.”
The channel crackled, flightleader chatter vanishing. Instead, I got on the direct line between my father and Mongrel.
“Nice shot, Chaser,” Cobb’s voice said. It sounded exactly like him, only without all the cynicism. “Hot rocks, you’re on a roll today!”
My father looped back around. I found myself falling in beside him, opposite Cobb. Flying wingmate…to my father. The greatest man I had ever known.
The traitor.
I hate you, I thought. How could you do what you did? Didn’t you stop to think what it would do to your family?
He banked, and I followed, sticking to his glowing, transparent form as he chased a pair of Krell ships.
“I’ll go for the IMP. You see if you can pick them off.”
I forced down the sudden burst of emotions at hearing my father’s voice again. How could I both hate and love this man at once? How could I reconcile the image of him—standing tall on that day when we’d gone to the surface—with the terrible things I’d learned he’d done?
I gritted my teeth and tried to focus only on the fight. The Krell ships dodged into a larger melee of ships, almost colliding with some DDF fighters. My father followed them right in, spinning in a loop. Cobb lagged behind.
I stuck on my father, holding tight to his wing. In that moment, the chase became everything, and the world around me faded. Just me, my father’s ghost, and the enemy ship.
Bank right.
Quick cut up.
Turn and twist around.
Right again.
Around that explosion.
I put everything I had into the chase, and still I slowly fell behind. My father’s turns were too sharp, his movements too precise. Even though I had M-Bot’s superior maneuverability, my father was better than I was. He had years of experience, and knew just when to boost, just when to turn.
And there was something…something more…
I focused on the Krell ship. It banked right. So did my father. It turned upward. So did my father. It turned left…
My father turned left. And I could swear he did it a fraction of a second before the Krell did.
“M-Bot,” I said. “Time my father’s turns in relation to the Krell ship’s turns. Is he somehow reacting before they do?”
“That would be impossib— Huh.”
“What?” I asked.
“I believe the correct term is SCUD. Spensa, your father is moving before the Krell do. It’s only a fraction of a second different, but it is happening. My recording must be desynced somehow. I find it highly implausible that a human would be able to guess these movements so accurately.”
I narrowed my eyes, then hit overburn and threw myself back into the chase. I moved until I was inside the outline of my father’s ship, the glow of the hologram surrounding me. I focused not on him, but only on the Krell ship, trying to stay with it as it went into another sequence of dodges.
Left. Right. Spin. Altitude…
I couldn’t do it. My father cut and turned at precisely the right time, then IMPed the enemy ship. They spun around each other in a twisting, intertwined loop, like two braiding ropes. I lost pace completely, falling out of the complex maneuver as my father—somehow—cut his booster at
just the right moment to drop behind the enemy.
The Krell died in a flash of light.
My father pulled out of his dive as Cobb whooped over the line. Young Cobb was certainly enthusiastic.
“Chaser,” he said. “They’re pulling back. Have we…have we won?”
“No,” my father said. “They’re just regrouping. Let’s return to the others.”
I hovered my ship, watching Cobb and my father join the lineup. “That was some mighty fine flying,” Ironsides said over the channel. “But Chaser, watch yourself. You keep losing your wingmate.”
“Blah blah blah blah blah,” Cobb said. “Chaser, stop blowing everything up; you make me look bad. Sincerely, Ironsides.”
“We are fighting for the survival of all humankind, Mongrel,” Ironsides said. “I would hope to hear some maturity out of you for once.”
I smiled. “She sounds like Jorgen, talking to us.” Then I turned, looking toward the Krell regrouping in the distance. Nearby, the DDF fighters formed into flights again.
I knew what was coming next.
“Would you look at that hole in the debris up there?” Cobb said. “You don’t often see such a great alignment of the…Chaser?”
I looked upward, but the simulation didn’t extend so far as to show me the hole in the debris they were talking about.
“Chaser, what’s wrong?” Cobb asked.
“Is it the defect?” Ironsides asked.
“I can control the defect,” my father said. “But…” What was that? I hadn’t heard that part before.
He was silent for a moment. “I can hear the stars. I can see them too, Cobb,” my father said. “Like I saw them earlier today. A hole in the debris field. I can get through.”
“Chaser!” Ironsides said. “Stay in ranks.”
This part, I had heard last time. I dreaded hearing it again, but I couldn’t force myself to make M-Bot turn it off.
“I can get through, Judy. I’ve got to try. I’ve got to see. I can hear the stars.”
“Go,” I whispered along with Ironsides. “I trust you.”
She’d trusted him. He hadn’t disobeyed orders; he’d gone with her permission. That seemed a tiny distinction to me, considering what would happen next.
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