Warborg - Star Panther

by Olson, Ry

  “Then take her out Martin.” The sad face didn’t match the jovial voice. Swain turned and headed for the bay exit.

  “Thanks Doc, thanks for everything.”

  Swain didn’t look back.

  With a mental sigh, Martin contacted Ship Launch Control and signaled his request for departure. It was granted instantly. He ran through his pre-flight check list as the bay started pumping down, a few minutes later the bay doors opened and Martin peered out into the endless void. It’s now or never. He hesitated, and then signaled the robot tug to take him out. Until he proved he could precisely control the fighter he would have to be towed in and out of the hanger bays. He noticed Swain watching through an observation port and flashed his running lights as he cleared the bay and headed into the inky blackness. The tug released him, letting him drift away from the fleet.

  Another cyborg drifted up along side. Martin visualized Major Stith’s name on his slowly growing list and signaled for a hard link. Stith’s image came up immediately. ^Captain Martin Morgan reporting for duty, Sir.^

  ^Captain.^ Stith nodded his greeting. ^Good to see you out and about. Any questions before we begin?^

  ^No, Major.^

  ^Very well then, let’s get started. First of all I want you to accelerate in a straight line then decelerate along that same line at five percent thrust.^

  ^Yes Sir.^ And so began the nightmare. All the hours spent in the virtual trainer over the past two weeks gave Martin all the familiarity he needed of the cockpit layout, but proved useless in how the fighter actually responded. For the first four hours he spent more time trying to get the ship back under control than running through the simple maneuvers Stith asked him to perform. Through it all Stith would quietly comment now and then, offer occasional advice and tell Martin to relax and take it as it comes. ^I’m sorry Major, I never dreamed this thing would be this tough.^ Martin was totally disgusted with his lack of progress.

  ^Relax Captain, we’re not on a fixed schedule here. Some things take a while, others will be a breeze.^ Major Stith sympathized with Martin, remembering how frustrated he got when he started in his fighter. It just took time. ^Let’s take a break. I want you to meet the rest of our group.^

  Two more light fighters slide gracefully along side. Martin mentally gritted his teeth in silent envy of their effortless piloting. A moment later two figures appeared standing next to Stith. Ok, now this is a new one, multiple hard links. I’ll have to ask Maria about this one . . . if she ever talks to me again.

  ^Captain Martin Morgan I would like you to meet Captain Dorthy Biggs and Major Steve Reese. The four of us form J, or Jester, squadron.^ Stith nodded at each as he introduced them.

  ^Sirs.^ Martin nodded in their direction.

  ^Sirs?^ A happy grin lit up the woman’s thirty something face. ^Hell, just call me Dottie, everybody else does.^

  ^Well, Brian, there goes any semblance of discipline.^ The third figure muttered. ^Guess you might as well call me Reese, damn near everybody does, or something worse.^

  The low gravelly voice startled Martin. He knew that voice.

  Stith rolled his eyes in mock despair. ^Oh well, it’s official, Jester Squadron has NO discipline. Call me Brian.^

  ^Martin’s fine for me. It’s really nice to meet you guys.^ He looked over his new squad, knowing he was being evaluated in return. I wonder if these are their biological images or . . . or what? And why this sudden casualness? For the last four hours it’s been pretty by the book. I just don’t get it.

  Stith smiled, ^Martin here has been exploring the wonders of having your own personal light fighter for the last few hours.^

  ^Has he threatened to use the ultimate solution yet?^ Dottie prodded with a laugh that made her curly dark hair bounce.

  ^No, not yet,^ Stith winked at Martin, ^he did comment that the ship is just a little twitchy.^

  ^A little twitchy,^ Reese’s rumbling laugh made Martin smile. ^Hell son, I got so frustrated I decided to end it all by ramming an asteroid. Finally gave it up after I missed the son of a bitch three times.^

  Martin laughed in spite of himself as he contemplated Reese. He was an enigma, his form was an older man that Martin decided he would be generous and call ruggedly handsome. It was a face women would be comfortable with and men would naturally respect. But the voice was the fascinating part. It was such a low drawl. Martin realized he really liked that voice, somehow it made him relax. ^Yeah, but wouldn’t ya just know it, no damn asteroids around when you really need one, and I figure somebody’d get really pissed if I tried to ram the base ship.^ Martin commented in a dead pan voice with his best poker face.

  There was complete silence for an uncomfortable second before Dottie burst out laughing. ^Oh, he is good. Come on Reese we have to go. Nice meeting you Martin.^ She winked and her form vanished.

  Reese gave Martin a lopsided smile and glanced at Brian. ^He’ll do.^ He faded out with a nod.

  Brian smiled for a second then shook it off and became more serious. ^Well back to the grind, let’s try the right side end around one more time.^

  . . .

  ^Damn, there’s gotta be a friggin’ asteroid around here somewhere,^ Martin muttered two hours later during a break.

  ^It’s coming along, just give it time. You just have to learn to fly these fighters with a attitude I guess.^ Brian studied his new pilot for a second. ^You’re not going to ask are you?^

  ^About our little meeting.^ Martin shrugged. ^Think I’ve got it figured out. You wouldn’t have called them in and I’d still be calling you Major if you didn’t think I’d fit in.^

  ^Or could pilot, these are tough little ships to fly. You’re doing OK, believe me I know.^ Brian cocked an eyebrow at Martin. ^Reese thought it would be best if he was your wingman and I agreed.^

  ^Whatever you guys think is best.^ Martin knew better than to try and understand the psychology of his comrades at this stage of the game. Besides, for some reason he really liked the slow talking elder statesman at first glance. And secretly he was pleased that Reese though enough of him to volunteer to take on the new guy.

  ^Shall we?^ Brain smiled.

  ^If you insist.^ Martin sighed. ^I want to try that sliding roll again, somehow my timing just ain’t there.^

  Brian nodded and watched his new man go into the skittering maneuver once again. Give it time Martin, just give it time.

  . . .

  ^I think that’s enough for one session Martin.^ Brian was tired and knew Martin had to be exhausted. ^Are you going back into base or are you going to stay out?^

  Martin considered the question for a moment. ^I guess there’s really no hurry to go back in, is there?^ He looked around at the starry blackness and the constant comings and goings of the spacecraft in the distance. ^No, I think I’m going to stay out. I’ve been penned up inside for too long, I just need to soak it all back in.^

  Brian smiled, really starting to like this intense pilot with the quick wit and easy way. Him and Reese are going to make a great team, kind of like the Fox and the Hound. ^You were a long range scout for awhile weren’t you?^

  ^Hmmm, yeah, for about two years. Why?^

  ^It shows my space faring friend. Long range scouts have a love for the emptiness that would drive the rest of us insane.^ He smiled at Martin. ^Try to stay out of trouble. Somebody will be out later.^ Brian’s form faded.

  . . .

  Martin contemplated his new commanding officer. Brian was everything a pilot could hope for in a squadron leader. Talk to him for a minute and the intelligence shows through, have a problem and he’ll give you his best shot at an answer, screw up and he’ll eat your lunch.

  Martin thought about his surroundings and shutdown the virtual cockpit. He gave a deep sigh of satisfaction at the feeling of just floating free in the void. I could like this . . . if I could fly this friggin’ ship. He watched the spacecraft flittering about the fleet, fireflies against an impossible black background laced with stars. I need this. He was totally relaxed f
or the first time since he woke up in the container. He thought about going back into the base ship and realized with a start there was no reason to. In fact I don’t need to dock for months if I don’t want to. The concept of this new freedom took his breath away. He dozed off intermittently, occasionally going through a few lazy maneuvers, but mostly he just watched the spacecraft.

  It occurred to him you could always spot a cyborg ship. The manned ships flew smooth graceful paths directly from point to point. The cyborg ships would most often be slowly tumbling, but still followed a smooth trajectory. But the warborgs, especially the light fighters, looked more like bats, in constant motion, flitting and haphazardly tumbling in a non-stop celebration of freedom. Will I ever get to that point? Maybe, probably, yeah I guess so.

  . . .

  Martin’s doorbell roused him from a short nap. ^Hello.^ He mentally shook himself awake.

  ^Up and at ‘em son.^ The gravelly voice identified the visitor even before the form had faded in.

  ^Hi, Reese.^

  ^You ready for another run at this?^ Reese smiled.

  ^You bet’cha. God I could use a cup of coffee. I’d even settle for that nasty shit they had in the ready room.^ Martin scrunched up his face. ^Well maybe not.^ Martin noticed Reese had a half a dozen semi-intelligent training drones with him. ^Oh god, here we go.^

  ^Let’s go out and get us some room to work.^ With that, Reese’s ship accelerated off into the blackness.

  Martin followed a few hundred meters behind. Well, at least I didn’t tumble out of control just trying to move this time. Martin thought with some bitterness about the prior day. He pulled up along side Reese when he stopped. ^Hey Reese, . . . thanks.^

  Reese’s image became more solid as he studied his new wingman. ^Don’t mention it.^ The slow smile spread across his face. ^Now let’s see where you’re at. Show me your port side roll with a pulling left thruster evasion . . . ^

  . . .

  ^Dammit Reese, why does that last kick-over thrust keep blowing me clear out of the spin? Shit!!^ It had been a tough two hours.

  Reese laughed at his sputtering companion. ^Martin, how many hours did you have in that manned light space fighter?^

  ^More than it looks like here,^ Martin fumed. He took a deep breath. ^Sorry, about twenty six hundred. About three hours of true combat.^

  Reese’s eyebrows shot up.^ That’s a lot of combat, Martin.^ He nodded in appreciation. He became more serious. ^But you’re not in that ship now,^ he leaned forward, ^so quit trying to fly this one like you did that one.^

  Martin studied his mentor for a second. ^I guess I’m too thick to follow. I know this ship’s got three times the thrust to mass ratio and less than half the rotational inertia of my old ship but it still should fly the same, only quicker.^

  Reese studied the frustrated figure in front of him and suddenly a lopsided smile formed. ^Martin you’re not a pilot anymore, you’re a ship.^

  ^Come again.^

  ^Martin, there ain’t been a pilot born that could fly one of these, they’re just too damn high spirited and touchy. To master one of these beasts you have to be one with it.^

  ^So I gotta be one with my ship. This ain’t one’a them Zen things is it?^ Martin chuckled at the mental image of him burning incense and chanting a mantra as he flew into battle.

  Reese sadly shook his head. ^No, this isn’t a Zen thing, it’s as real as it gets. You got your virtual cockpit going?^

  ^Well, yeah.^

  ^Shut it down and go into your panorama mode.^

  Martin eyed his companion suspiciously as he complied with request. ^Ok, what now?^

  One of the drones fired up under Reese’s command and moved off.

  ^See the drone Martin, follow it. Don’t think about the ship’s controls, don’t even think about the ship. Just concentrate on following that drone.^

  ^Ok.^ Martin concentrated on the drone. Nothing happened. ^I’m just not getting it Reese.^ The pangs of frustration starting.

  ^It’s ok Martin, relax. The drone’s the ball in a game of catch Martin, go get it.^

  ^Dammit Reese, how am I supposed to chase it down with no contr . . . chase it down?^ Chase it down! RUN YOU IDIOT!! ^Oh holy shit!^

  Reese’s head rolled back and he roared with laughter as he watched Martin’s ship explode into full thrust and blast into the distance barely missing the drone. ^Yo Martin, I think you over shot your mark.^

  ^No shit Sherlock, whoaa.^ Martin’s laugh was contagious as he desperately tried to get his new found body under control.

  . . .

  ^Damn Reese, I think this thing was easier to control the old way.^ Martin sputtered, as he once again fought to regain control of his seemingly possessed ship. ^Do these damned things ever go where you want‘em to or do they just continually do their own thing and you spend the entire time fighting to keep them going in a general direction?^

  ^Just takes time, Martin. You’ll get there.^ Reese smiled and winked. ^If you don’t lose your mind first.^

  ^Oh thanks for the vote of confidence.^ Martin grated as his ship once again started to tumble as he finished a mock attack on a drone, seemingly of its own accord. ^Oh for Christ’s sake . . . oh you piece of shit, jeez. Now you come back here, dammit.^

  ^Well, I’m going to leave you two love birds to work things out and get a back-up servo system checked out.^ Reese smiled and shook his head as Martin’s ship rolled unexpectedly during a maneuver and another stream of verbal abuse followed.

  ^Thanks for everything Reese, hey and leave me one of the drones, would ya.^

  ^Oh you are a glutton, no problem.^ Reese was rolling in laughter as he faded out.

  . . .

  Reese smiled by reflex when Brian asked him how Martin was doing. ^I’ll tell you what, Brian. He’s catching on real quick. You know as well as I do that I’m not the best fighter jockey around, but I’ve sure as hell been around some of the best and seen them work.^

  Brian nodded. ^And you think he may be one.^

  ^Yeah, Major. I think he may be the best I’ve ever seen.^

  Brian raised his eyebrows and grunted. When Reese called him Major he was dead serious.

  ^It’s only been three days since he figured out how to interface with his ship, but this morning he flipped through a move I’d never seen. I though he’d lost control until he did it again a few minutes later. Brian, if I were that drone I would have wound up with his left turret jammed up my butt and not a clue how it got there.^

  ^Hmmm, is he ready?^

  ^Yes sir, but I imagine Martin wouldn’t think so. In fact he’s convinced he can’t fly that ship at all. Dangedest guy I ever seen.^ Reese shook his head in consternation. ^We can take him out anytime.^

  ^Thanks Reese.^ Brian disconnected with a wink. Reese if you had seen the combat reconstructs of Martin I have, you would understand. Man, as a bio he would have been a tough nut, I wouldn’t have wanted to take him on. As a warborg . . . He shook his head and moved on to other things.

  . . .

  “Well, made a total fool out of myself today. . . again” Martin fretted to himself. “I just hope Reese will still wing with me. God, I’m a putz.” He sighed and thought about his family. Guess I might as well take care of that problem too. The perfect end to a perfect day.

  7: The Call Home

  “Martin! Damn, what a surprise.” Will settled into his chair in front of the vidphone.

  “Hi, Will.” Martin sounded subdued, his face looked strained.

  “Hey what’s up little bro? You don’t look too happy. Where are you?”

  “I’m still on station.”

  “Whoa, burn’in the big bucks. What’s up?” Will was getting more concerned; Martin was usually jovial and talked non-stop.

  “No, it’s not costing me anything . . . I’m using my own commgear.” The voice was almost too quiet to hear over the vidphone.

  “Martin, what’s going on?” Will hesitated a moment. “Your own gear?” Martin seemed to be blinkin
g back tears. “Come on, give.”

  “Will,” Martin was visibly unsettled. “I’m a cyborg.” He seemed to deflate even more after the statement.

  “What do you mean you’re a cyborg?” Will felt the first tinge of horror.

  “I’m a cyborg, Will, a goddamned tinman.”

  “What, no way . . . if this is a joke . . .”

  “No joke, Will.” Martin seemed to droop even more. “Just a bad dream, a never ending, fucking bad dream.”

  “But how . . . when . . .” Will battled the conflicting emotions. “Then how in the hell am I seeing you?”

  “It’s a hologram, Will. I have it so I can communicate.”

  “Oh dammit Martin, What the hell happened?”

  “My ship hit a goddamned piece of wreckage, and BANG, I wake up as this. It happened about a month ago.”

  “Just like that huh, shit. God, Martin, I just don’t know what to say.” Will struggled to find the words for his brother.

  “Really nothing to say. It’s done, now I’ve just gotta make the best of it.” Martin shrugged with a pinched face.

  “This really sucks bro. How’re you holding up?” Will realized he was staring at the image in the vidphone trying as if trying to assure himself it was Martin.

  “I guess ok, it’s got its good times as well as the bad ones.” Martin perked up. ”The other day, as part of my check out I pulled a fifty G turn mixed with a roll. What a friggin’ rush.”

  Will smiled; this was more like the old Martin. “Oh so I take it you’re still flying. What kind of ship have you got?”

  Martin stumbled for a second. “I don’t have a ship Will, I am the ship.” Martin saw his brother’s confused look. “Will, don’t you get it? I’m a cyborg now, I become whatever I’m put into. All that’s left of the old me is a brain-bucket.”