by Danny Loomis
There were several variations on the shuttle, but the one most prevalent was the attack model. It could be used to haul large amounts of cargo or personnel in a short period of time. Seventy-five meters long and twenty wide, it looked more like a box than a vehicle. One shuttle could land two platoons and their basic load of weapons. The ten millimeter pulse cannon mounted on its top and controlled by the copilot could provide limited cover for a landing. Even more impressive was its ability to have several optional weapons mounted on it. Rocket launching pods, bomb racks, missile tubes… all could be added given a few hours notice.
Ian jumped as he was tapped on the shoulder. “Hey, tiger,” Lieutenant Cooper said. “Since when did they promote you to shuttle pilot?”
“Just studying up on ’em, Lieutenant,” Ian said, trying to cover the irritation he felt whenever she was around. “Never know when I might need to fly one.”
“I bet you think a shuttle could stand up to a Wasp, don’t you, Staff Sergeant?” She smirked back at him while leaving the room. Ian shook his head in irritation. What a pain in the ass. All the other pilots had been great, but it seemed there was always one prick. He hesitated a moment. Something she’d said. He finished shutdown of the computer and strolled back to his cubicle, deep in thought.
* * *
Next morning Ian was pacing impatiently inside WOPER, Wasp Operations room, when Scotty entered. “Sir, I’d like to discuss something with you.”
“And a good morning to you, too, Irish,” he said, heading for his cubicle. “Think I could digest a cup of coffee before I hear one of your ideas again?” Over the past week Ian had been studying tactics. Like a little kid in a candy store, he sounded out anyone who would listen with some of his thoughts on tactics. Unknown to Ian, his ideas had been discovered years ago.
By the time Scotty settled behind his desk, Ian was back with a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of pastries. Somewhat taken aback, he accepted the coffee with a nod and gestured Ian to a chair. “This must be a biggie. I hope it’s better’n the last idea. Wasn’t that about having a Wasp tow a pod of mines behind it?”
Ian shrugged, blushing. “Just didn’t think that one through, Sir. This one’s got some merit. I even spent a couple hours with the Virtual Reality technician last night, and he says it can be done.”
“What can be done?” Scotty leaned back, coffee in one hand and a scone in the other, one of the staples of the Wasp fighter pilots.
“Cross-feed two separate training simulations. The Wasp fighter scenarios and the attack shuttle training tapes. With a little tweaking, we were able to come up with an entirely new simulation. Attack shuttles against Wasps.”
Spewing coffee across his desk, Scotty sat upright, a look of utter disbelief on his face. “What in the hell have you been smoking, Jamba weed? No way does that make sense. That wouldn’t be training, it’d be a slaughter!” He shook his head. “You’ve come up with some lulus in the past few days, but this one takes the cake.”
Ian remained calm during the tirade. “Sir, I realize I’m new at this. But sometimes a new perspective can see things that those who work and breathe Wasps don’t perceive. I happen to think I’m right on this.”
Scotty looked at him for a long moment, then stood and began to pace. Quite a feat in such a small space. “Hm…hm. Ian, offhand I can’t see any tactical reason for this kind of training. Would you be willing to demonstrate it?”
By now Ian was on his feet at parade rest. “Yessir. But not against a computer simulation. Instead, I’d like to prove my point against Lieutenant Cooper. Give me one day to work with the V.R. tech, and we’ll have an interactive program.”
Scotty came to a stop in front of Ian, a smile forming. “She has been an asshole towards you, hasn’t she? You think you can whip the second-best pilot on board with an attack shuttle?”
“Sir, yes Sir. I’d even be willing to, shall we say, unofficially, put a little cash on the outcome if the odds were good.”
Scotty laughed. “I’ll go talk to Lieutenant Cooper. If she’s willing, I think it’d be a good diversion for the rest of the pilots to watch.”
“Watch? You mean people can watch those simulations?” Ian was aghast, thinking of some of the bonehead ways he’d died while in the simulator.
“Of course. And you can stop looking so embarrassed. You should review some of the tapes of our most experienced pilots. They still pull wacko stunts even worse than what you’ve occasionally done.”
* * *
“You’re sure I can put this on a shuttle?” Ian asked, looking over the shoulder of Yeoman Second Class Anita Wilbert.
“Of course, Staff Sergeant.” She tapped a few more keys. “See here. You can tie it down on the aft bulkhead and…”
“Never mind, Anita.” He patted her shoulder. “Let’s just load it on. Also how about the other alterations?”
“Yep. They could all be made in less than twenty-four hours.”
“Great work, Yeoman. You think like a Bosun.” She blushed prettily, giving him a sloe-eyed look that went unnoticed. Ian had learned early on that the Navy enlisted responded well to praise. He had no idea what the difference was between a Yeoman or a Bosun, but it seemed to work.
They were interrupted by the arrival of Lieutenant Nancy Cooper and four other pilots Ian hadn’t seen before. “The bossman said you wanted to talk to me. Something about a challenge?”
Ian swung around and came to parade rest. “Yes, Ma’am. I discussed the merits of pitting an attack shuttle against a Wasp with Lieutenant Commander Searles. He said it was fine with him, if you had the guts for it.” The Lieutenant’s normally beautiful face took on an interesting shade of red, and her eyes bulged. Interesting, thought Ian. Never seen a woman quite so mad.
“You must be crazy,” she sputtered. “A shuttle can’t stand up to a Wasp. It wouldn’t last thirty seconds in a fight!”
“You’re wrong, Lieutenant. In fact I think you’re so wrong I’ll put up some cash to back my belief.”
Nancy’s eyes narrowed. “How much are we talking about here?”
“I’ll make it easy on you, Ma’am. Fifty credits says I last five minutes.”
“What odds?”
“Against you by yourself, even. If you want to bring along company, one point for each additional Wasp.”
“You trying to make a fool out of me, Staff Sergeant? First of all, you don’t stand a chance. Secondly, you’re not making it worth my time.” She turned to leave.
Ian tried not to smirk at how easily he’d hooked her. “If you get me before ten minutes are up, you get fifty credits. For every minute left up to ten minutes.”
She turned around. “Let me get this straight. If I get you within the first minute, you owe me five hundred credits, right?”
“Yes, Ma’am. But if I make it past ten, I get fifty. And if I destroy you, I get an additional hundred credits. Plus an additional hundred for every other Wasp that you bring out to support you, if I destroy them, too.”
“Make it a hundred per minute and you’ve got a deal.”
Ian hesitated, knowing he didn’t have that kind of cash. Or any way to raise it in time.
“I’ll cover that,” a voice said from the doorway. Lieutenant Commander Searles entered, a slight smile on his face. “And I’ll even make the pot a little sweeter. Nancy, you can take up to six fighters with you. If you manage to knock him out in ten minutes, I’ll take you out to dinner at Raffio’s when we get back to Alamo. But for that, we’ve got to have odds. How about, say, four to one?”
She looked at her companions, who immediately nodded. “Done. And you’d better have deep pockets when we go to Raffio’s, Sir. We eat a lot when someone else buys.”
“Agreed. One additional thing, though. If Ian wins, you’ve got to grant him one wish, Lieutenant.”
Nancy looked Ian up and down with a disdainful smile. “Fine. Now if you’ll excuse us?”
Scotty strolled over to Ian and the yeoman after
the pilots left the room “I just happened to tap into the yeoman’s ’puter screen a minute ago. Saw something very interesting. Think you can pull this off?”
“Sir, I’ll give it my best shot. I think it depends on how cocky Lieutenant Cooper and her buddies are tomorrow. Uh—what’s this about a wish?”
“I saw how you two look at each other. Pure lust,” Scotty said, with a sly smile. “Give it some thought. What would you really like to do to Cooper? Or have her do to you? And don’t worry about the money, Captain Stanton and Warrant Officer Boudreau were just over visiting. When I informed them what was up, they gave me credits to bet on you. They seemed to think it was a shoo-in.”
“Nothing’s for certain, Sir. All we can do is roll the dice and hope.”
Scotty smiled boyishly. “In this case, I think you’ve loaded the dice quite nicely. Especially at four-to-one odds in our favor. See you tomorrow.” With that he was gone.
“Staff Sergeant, you think some of the rest of us could get in on this?” Yeoman Wilbert asked.
“Just don’t tell a soul what we’ve done, Anita. Otherwise you won’t get decent odds.”
“Right, Staff. Well, you’d better get some rest. I’ll take care of the programming.”
“Thanks, Yeoman,” Ian said, hurrying off. Anita watched him pass out of sight through the doorway. Nice buns, she thought wistfully. He may not fool around, but at least she could make some money off him. She turned to her com, thoughts of what kind of odds she could squeeze out of the maintenance jockeys whirling through her head.
* * *
“Fifteen seconds until liftoff,” said the voice of Lieutenant Jancowski, who’d been elected umpire for this particular contest. Ian settled comfortably as he could into the attack shuttle simulator. He missed the form-fitting attack couch of the Wasp. Hadn’t been able to find out how many extra Wasps the lieutenant invited, but he decided to plan his tactics on worst-case. That meant he could be facing up to seven fighters.
“Launching now,” Jancowski said.
Ian exited the carrier ten seconds before his pursuers, and immediately reached maximum thrust towards a small group of asteroids. He had chosen the thickest quadrant of asteroids around Alamo, a favorite training program site. For nine seconds he poured on the speed, then shut down and tripped a large jury-rigged switch next to him. A split second later seven red dots appeared on his screen, speeding away from the York and towards his general location.
The switch Ian had thrown was hooked to a small cloaking generator which didn’t quite blank out the shuttle. Instead it had an indistinct shape that could be hopefully mistaken for an asteroid. As he drifted towards the real asteroids, he threw another switch that released a dozen small containers, each about fifty kilometers apart. It was apparent the “enemy” hadn’t spotted him yet. They scattered in a circular search pattern, one which would cover the immediate vicinity of the York, scouring space up to three light-minutes out in less than ten minutes.
By now he’d reached the small group of asteroids, and slid the shuttle in among them with a minimum of power. Two of the closer blips were just entering the vicinity of the containers he’d deployed. A little closer and they’d be in range to… One of the blips flared and died when the first space mine exploded, sending thousands of ball bearings flying in all directions. Being only one hundred kilometers from it when it went off meant your ship was dead, unless heavily armored. Which the Wasps were not.
The second blip hesitated a fatal moment, and was destroyed by two other detonating mines. Ian whooped in glee. These had been his most primitive of weapons, usually easily avoided by Wasp pilots. Three minutes gone, and five ships left. Now came the hard part. Ian wiped sweaty hands on his pants legs, and began easing to the far side of the asteroids. This would be the first place they looked now.
Two missiles streaked into the area where the space mines were, and exploded. This caused the mines to detonate and removed his frontal protection. Three ships accelerated towards the asteroids, while the other two swung wide. Uh-oh. Starting to get smart. He punched another button that sent three small missiles towards the center of the asteroid cluster. Seconds later they exploded, creating a blanket of noise and static into which none of the Wasp pilots could see.
Ian increased power, and headed back into the cluster rather than away. He approached the largest asteroid, five kilometers in diameter, and attached himself to it with magnetic grapples. A twitch of his fingers shut down all power except for the cloaking generator and passive sensors. Now to wait. Five minutes passed. Two to go. A dot appeared on his screen, coming around from the other side of the asteroid. Two more followed, all passing within ten kilometers. He felt the sweat roll, and wondered how they could miss him.
Another minute passed. Ian fired up his tactical board and looked for the enemy. There. All five of them were within the cluster of asteroids, no more than one thousand kilometers in front of him. Easing his ship up, he activated the newly attached shrike missile pods he’d been towing, and deployed them above his craft. Primed and set, he thought.
Thirty seconds crept by. By his time table, only another thirty seconds remained in the contest. He fired all seven launch tubes at once, adding the firepower of his twenty millimeter pulser. With less than a five second flight time, the missiles were almost upon the grouped Wasps when they noticed and began to scatter. Ian counted multiple impacts, and was shouting with each burst. He continued to spray the area with his pulser. There could only be seconds left.
Abruptly he saw four missile tracks running hot towards him. Shit. At least two had escaped…
“Time is up, gentlemen. The simulation is at an end.” Ian sagged in relief. He’d done it!
Before he could open the simulator’s hatch, it was dragged open and Yeoman Wilbert helped him out into a crowd of enlisted and officers who applauded loudly.
“Well done, Ian,” Scotty said.
Ian looked about in bewilderment. “What’s with the crowd, Sir?”
“The entire task force was watching this one,” Scotty said. “I’ll bet more money changed hands today than in the past year.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how’d we do, Sir?”
“You killed five Wasps, and knocked off the top three pilots I’ve got,” Scotty said.
Just then Lieutenant Cooper forced her way through the crowd and eyed Ian with an unnerving intensity. “Staff Sergeant, you’re one sneaky son-of-a-bitch. You not only stretched the rules to the breaking point, you played me like a violin beforehand when you set me up for the bet.”
“Yes, Ma’am, and I enjoyed every second of it,” Ian said, trying manfully to keep a straight face.
She smiled and held out her hand. “You can fly on my wing anytime, Staff. Good job.”
* * *
The last day with the Wasp pilots was a whirlwind of activity for Ian. An update of his skill level had to be decided by a last stint in the virtual reality simulator, then the goodbyes started.
Yeoman Wilbert was first, with a timid knock on his cubicle door. “Staff Sergeant, could I speak to you for a minute?” she asked.
“Sure, Anita. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to let you know me and the other Yeomen on board made a killing on your contest with Lieutenant Cooper. We cleaned up on the Machinists. They gave us nine to one odds, and the Chief Bos’n even bet us. It was most satisfying, Staff. I wanted to thank you.” Suddenly she leaned over and kissed him. Not a peck on the cheek, but a lip-locker that left Ian gasping for breath when she finally broke away and ran from his room. He looked after her with new eyes, wondering what he’d missed over the past two weeks.
The next visitor wasn’t unexpected. Lieutenant Cooper appeared, an envelope in her hand. He stood as she entered. “Here’s your winnings, Staff Sergeant,” she said. “We’re gonna miss you and your quirky sense of imagination.” She held out her hand.
Ian looked at her hand. “First off we’ve got my wish to fulfill.”
>
She eyed him warily, lifting one eyebrow. “Alright. What is it?”
He whispered in her ear, causing her eyes to widen. “You want to do this now?”
“After hours,” he said. “I thought since we weren’t in the same chain of command….”
Looking him up and down, she slowly smiled. “Staff Sergeant, I think I’ll take you up on that. My room is bigger, so see you there—say 1930 hours?”
Ian’s pulse accelerated. “Fine with me, Ma’am. See you there.”
* * *
By the time 0600 rolled around Ian had managed an hours’ sleep. Staggering from Nancy’s room he headed towards his own at the best pace he could manage, a slow hobble.
The first person Ian saw when he entered the LRS section was Warrant Officer Boudreau. “Welcome back, Irish. I hear you managed to learn a thing or two while you were with the Zoomies.”
Ian set down his duffel. “Zoomies?”
“Yeah, the flyboys. The pilots. I also hear you trimmed their ears back a bit, as well as their pocketbooks.”
“That’s right, Chief. And thanks for you and Cap’n Stanton bankrolling me.”
“Think nothing of it. We made a fortune from the rest of the fleet. I’ll be able to retire with a bit more comfort, thanks to you.”
“Where’s everyone?” Ian asked.
“In class at the moment. They’ll be done in another three hours. Why don’t you get settled back in? We’ll inventory all our equipment this afternoon. Then we exit into normal space tomorrow.”
Ian nodded agreement and headed towards the room he shared with Pointy and Blade for at least one more day. If he hurried, he might have time for a short nap…
“Rise and shine, flyboy!” Ian was jolted awake as Pointy rapped on the supports of his hammock. “We got a ton of equipment to inventory, as well as weapons maintenance to pull before we hit the sack tonight. So up and at ’em.”
Groaning in protest, Ian swung out of his hammock. “What’s the hurry? I thought we had a couple of days after break-out before we had to have our stuff in order.”