by Linn Schwab
“All I did was offer,” the major explained. “They were more than willing.”
The commander stared at her in silence, pondering the possibility of unintended consequences. “So, who got ‘em?” she finally asked, referring to the visiting Hornet squadrons.
“Robin drew one of them and Christy drew the other.”
“Interesting. I don’t suppose it was only coincidence that both of their numbers just happened to get drawn? Out of all of the squadrons stationed in this sector?”
“No,” Major Richards admitted. “I pulled out all but two of the others.”
Commander Jeffries stared at her intently before breaking into a smile of approval. “Good thinking. It’d be a real shame to miss an opportunity like this.”
Major Richards relaxed a little. “You’re not upset, then?”
“Of course not. Why would you think that? Our girls deserve every advantage we can provide them with, don’t you think?” She turned and looked through an outer window, gazing at a distant cluster of stars. “Their very lives depend on this training. As well as the future of life on Valhalla.” Another thought suddenly occurred to her. “Did you warn them?” she asked, expressing curiosity.
“Warn them?” the major asked. She shook her head as though she didn’t understand.
The commander looked at her and crossed her arms. “Maryanne, don’t play dumb with me. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.”
Major Richards winced. “Um … I don’t recall discussing the issue of emotional distress with them, Commander. If that’s what you’re referring to. Would you like me to go have a talk with them?”
“It’s a little late for that now, Maryanne. Besides, this is something new to us. The other squadrons don’t have a choice. Why should the Hornets be any different? Maybe we’ll gain some valuable insight here.” She let out a sigh and sat down at her desk. Robin and Christy, she thought to herself. How appropriate. Academic stars were difficult to come by. Robin had two of them, and Christy had one. And now both of them were being mentored by Hornets. The possibilities were intriguing to contemplate.
Someone’s tears woke Robin up. She felt moisture dripping onto her face. She also felt a painful bump on her head. She struggled to open her eyes and saw Mindy’s face hovering directly over her.
“Robin, are you okay?” Mindy sobbed.
Robin’s eyes refused to stay focused. “What’s happening?” she asked, feeling a little groggy.
“You just fell over,” Mindy whimpered. “I tried to catch you, but it happened so fast.”
Robin sat up and rubbed the side of her head. “My head hurts,” she complained. As her eyes began to return to normal, she could see that all four squads were gathered around her, looking on with concern to see if she was alright. She was still in the assembly room. The piece of paper was still in her hand. She checked it once more. It still had the same number written on it. “Mindy,” she said, gently shaking her head, “…I think I must be dreaming this.”
SURVIVORS 011
Entering the locker room on the carrier UES Independence, Peter came across a rookie pilot sitting alone on one of the benches. Like himself, the young pilot had just returned from a battle. Normally by the time Peter’s squadron landed, the others had already cleared out of the locker room. The fact that this pilot was still sitting here suggested to Peter that something was troubling him.
“Tough day?” Peter asked him. The pilot gave a tentative nod. Peter could see he was shaking. “Was this your first battle?” he asked, uncertain of the rookie’s combat history.
“No, sir,” he said. “It was my third.”
Peter nodded. “Was this one worse than the others?”
The younger pilot took a deep breath. “I’m a survivor, sir,” he explained, giving every indication he was ashamed to admit it.
“Oh, I see,” Peter said. There was a saying passed around by many of the pilots that until a rookie got his first kill, his chances of surviving were not very good. Peter didn’t necessarily subscribe to that theory, but it gave him some insight as to what was bothering the kid. The first kill was always the most difficult to reconcile.
“So, how does that make you feel? Being a survivor, that is?” Peter asked.
The pilot swallowed. “I feel…” he began, then paused as if struggling to come to grips with his answer. “I feel like I’m Jack the Ripper. Like I’ve suddenly been turned into some kind of monster.”
“Yeah,” Peter said. He took a seat beside the young pilot. “All men of good conscience feel that way out here. It’s perhaps the greatest challenge we face. Anyone can be taught to operate a fighter. But can you butcher young women and still live with yourself? That’s the real struggle for us, isn’t it?”
The younger pilot lowered his head in regret.
“What’s your name, son?” Peter asked him.
“Jason, sir. Jason Elliot.”
Peter held out his hand. “Peter Straydel,” he said, shaking Jason’s hand. “Welcome to the club, survivor.”
Jason nodded, then noticed an emblem in the shape of a shark’s tooth over the left pocket of Peter’s flight suit. “You’re one of the elites, aren’t you?” he said.
“Yeah,” Peter answered him with a frown, attempting to play down the significance. “The pride of the fleet. Just means I’ve got that many more murders to my name. Jack the Ripper’s got nothing on me. Now there’s something to be proud of,” he boasted sarcastically.
“What brought you out here?” Jason asked. “I mean, you don’t seem like regular military to me. More like an accountant or something.”
“Very perceptive,” Peter responded. He sighed in open reflection. “I was mad at the world,” he said. “Well … mad at both worlds, actually. With this war consuming so much of Earth’s productivity, it just seemed like other matters of importance were being unjustly marginalized.”
“Lots of people feel that way. It’s all you ever hear about back on Earth. But they don’t all sign up to come out here. What was it that pushed you over the edge?”
Peter paused to gather his thoughts. Part of him didn’t want to mention Suzey, but he decided there was no real harm in doing so. “I had a daughter,” he explained. “A beautiful, loving little girl, who meant more than anything in the world to me. I would have done anything to keep her safe and happy. But I couldn’t protect her from her own body.”
He looked directly into Jason’s eyes. “There could have been a cure for her condition, I believe. There could have been solutions for a lot of different problems if the resources had been properly allocated. But this war was sucking the life out of our planet. So that’s why I signed up for this. I was convinced that this war killed my little girl, so I came out here to kill this war. But I never imagined I’d end up fighting girls, who — but for a quirk of fate — might just as easily have been my daughter’s closest friends. She would have been about their age now. About the same age as the pilots we’re facing. If that doesn’t make a person stop and think, there’s probably not much of anything that will.”
“Were you married?” Jason asked.
“Yeah,” Peter said, “I was truly blessed. I was married to someone very special. And it wasn’t as if I was looking for a reason to leave her. I still miss her every day. But when you lose a child the way we did, you look to the one you love most for support. Just sometimes it can take so much out of you that you have nothing left to give to each other.”
“Have you ever thought about going back to Earth?” Jason asked. “I don’t mean to pry into your personal affairs, but I’m guessing you must have enough years in by now to satisfy the terms of your enlistment.”
“Well,” Peter said with a halfhearted chuckle, “that’s another thing you’re going to learn the hard way, Jason. There is no going back to Earth.”
STEEL WALLS 012
Mindy quietly sat up in bed. She glanced around the darkened room in apprehension. The other girls were all still s
ound asleep. She checked the clock on the wall. It was 2:37 in the morning, and Mindy was still wide awake. What’s wrong with me? she fretted. I’m so tired, but I can’t fall asleep. Words and numbers kept racing through her mind, and images of diagrams from the previous day’s lectures. She had tried her best to make sense of the lessons, but the information had just been too overwhelming. I’m so confused already, she lamented. I’ll never be able to understand all these things. She sulked and shook her head in despair. This is too far beyond my ability to grasp.
And then there was the fear at the back of her mind, continually creeping into her thoughts. Senseless, mindless, irrational fear, steadily eating away at her nerves. Not the understandable fear of dying from exposure. That was a demon she could accept and confront. Instead, she was haunted by a continuous feeling that she was falling helplessly through the vacuum of space.
This is so stupid, she kept telling herself. But even though she knew the idea was absurd, she kept picturing her body falling back to Valhalla and splattering grotesquely against the planet’s surface. For all of her training and knowledge of science, she couldn’t overcome the little voices in her head — voices accustomed to a world ruled by gravity. There’s nothing holding this station up, they argued. Therefore, it must fall back to the planet.
Please, stop it, Mindy pleaded. She sniffled and buried her face in her pillow, hoping it would muffle the sounds of her sobs. A sudden nearby creaking noise startled her. She froze, then slowly looked up from her pillow. All of the others still seemed to be asleep. The noise echoed faintly through the room once again. It seemed to be coming from out in the corridor.
Mindy quietly climbed out of bed and slipped out into the darkened passageway. She looked back and forth in both directions, straining her eyes to peer into the shadows. “Hello?” she whispered, sensing there was someone nearby. “Is anyone there?”
She listened closely to the background noise of the station and thought she heard her name spoken on the quietest of whispers. She flinched and glanced all around herself, but saw nothing but shadows and gray painted steel. Another faint creaking noise caught her attention. She was certain it had come from the corridor wall. She moved a few steps closer to the wall and strained her eyes to get a better look through the darkness. She had a feeling there was some kind of presence nearby — something that was quietly observing her actions, and studying every move she made. Suddenly, she sensed she understood what was happening. Something within the walls was pressuring her.
PRODIGIES 013
The second morning on Volaris was filled with a chorus of moans and groans. The young Sentinels awoke to stiff muscles and sore joints — reminders of the previous day’s strenuous workouts. One by one, they rolled out of bed and struggled to pull their uniforms on. With great difficulty and much apprehension, they stumbled and staggered to the exercise room, dreading the prospect of more battleship laps.
“Good morning,” Major Richards greeted them. She watched as the girls lined up in formation. The pain on their faces was readily apparent. Many of them even had tears in their eyes. “Let’s start out with a few stretching exercises,” she said. “We’ll give the battleship laps a rest for this morning.” Her announcement sparked many sighs of relief, some anguished smiles and a few joyful sniffles. The day’s schedule held a little promise for the girls, if they could just make it to their afternoon classes.
Robin felt herself tingling with excitement as she led her squad to their study chamber. After enduring four hours of lecture in the morning and gutting it out through the second workout period, her girls had hastily consumed their lunches in anticipation of meeting their sister squadron.
The Hornets were already waiting for them. As Robin and her squad entered the classroom, the two groups lined up facing each other and waited for their captains to run through introductions.
Jenny smiled warmly when she recognized Robin. “Captain Starling,” she said with delight. “I guess this means you drew our number.”
Robin grinned as she shook Jenny’s hand. Captain Starling, the words continued to ring in her ears. She cherished the way Jenny had said that to her. It was if she’d addressed her as one of her peers. Nothing could have made her more proud at the moment.
“Well, let me introduce my squadron,” Jenny said. She quickly went down the line. “This is Nancy, Zoe, Virginia, Trixie, Lisa, Kelli, and Suzanne.” She waited expectantly for Robin to reciprocate.
Robin caught herself gazing at Jenny. She flinched in embarrassment and awkwardly began introducing her squad. “Oh, uh, this is Michelle, Caroline, Katrina, Mindy, Sheri, and Phoebe,” she said. “And I’m Robin,” she added for the rest of Jenny’s squadron. The Hornets smiled and waved at her.
“Okay,” Jenny said, “I guess I’ll be the one to start out. Why don’t you girls all have a seat. Feel free to jump in if you have any questions.” She stepped over to the front of the room, and the other girls all sat down around her. On a display screen mounted on the wall behind Jenny was a chart showing silhouettes of different classes of warships.
“Well, why don’t we start here,” Jenny said. She pointed to the ship at the top of the display. “The Amazon–class battleship is the backbone of our fleet. No armor can withstand their sixteen–inch shells. But even backbones can be vulnerable when they’re left exposed. That’s where all of these other ships come in.” She moved her finger down the chart, pointing out the various different classes of vessels. “Heavy cruisers and light cruisers help shield the battleships, forming a screen that keeps enemy ships at a distance. And augmenting all of these heavier class vessels are the most versatile ships we have in our fleet. Destroyers. Nancy, would you care to take a turn at the helm,” she said, bowing and gesturing for Nancy to step forward.
“Certainly,” Nancy responded. As Nancy stepped to the front of the room, Jenny walked over and sat down next to Robin. Nancy cleared her throat and changed the image on the display screen. The girls all liked her right from the start. She seemed to have a very casual demeanor.
“Ladies,” Nancy began as she pointed to a detailed schematic of a ship, “this … is the Congo–class destroyer. If you calculate its firepower to weight ratio, you’ll find it’s the most potent weapon we have. Short of a nuclear missile, that is. Looking at this rather unflattering sketch, it’s difficult to appreciate the true beauty of this ship. But I promise you, the first time you take one into combat, its virtues will become readily apparent to you.”
Nancy looked around the room, contemplating who she should hand the presentation off to. “Suzanne,” she said with a mischievous grin, “would you care to take over on the topic of … engines?” The Hornets chuckled. Robin’s girls looked at each other in confusion. It quickly became apparent to them that there was some sort of inside joke at play here. Suzanne made her way to the front of the room while Nancy quickly returned to her seat.
“Always remember,” Suzanne began, “that your engines are the most delicate part of your ship. It only takes a few well placed bullets to render an engine inoperable.” She pointed to part of the schematic on the wall. “As you can see from this diagram, a destroyer’s engines are mounted on the underside of its hull, and recessed between these pontoon like extensions. They’re well protected from the top and the sides, but very exposed from underneath. So whenever the option is available to you, always try to protect your belly. Zoe?”
Suzanne now returned to her seat, and Zoe moved up to the front of the room. “Maneuverability is one of the destroyer’s greatest strengths,” she explained. “One thing to remember if you get into trouble is that you can always outmaneuver a heavier class ship. Most of a destroyer’s ability to maneuver comes from the ship’s three main engines. Baffles along the outer edges of the engines deflect their thrust to alter trajectory. If additional force is necessary to complete a maneuver, you can also use your maneuvering thrusters, located here along the outer edges of the hull. Kelli?”
Kelli stood
up and stepped forward now. “As Zoe just pointed out to you, maneuverability is a powerful ally. You should always make every attempt to preserve it. There are several factors that will limit your ability to maneuver, but the most significant among them is going to be your velocity. The amount of thrust a destroyer’s engines can generate is capable of producing intense acceleration. But with so much power at your disposal, you can easily build up too much speed. So don’t be too hasty about tapping into your star drive. Remember, momentum can be your greatest enemy in combat. Lisa?”
Robin glanced around at her squad. They seemed to be focusing intently on the lecture. They’re enjoying this, she realized. And so am I. If only this session could go on forever.
“Each destroyer has three navigational data receptors,” Lisa explained. She pointed to their locations on the diagram. “These are the instruments that allow your computer to calculate your approximate position in space. They read the orientation of the stars around your ship, and the computer checks the readings to determine your location. Redundancy is an important consideration here. Positioning requires multiple readings. If one of your data receptors is damaged, you can still get the information you need by changing the angle on one of the others. Trixie?”
Trixie seemed a little shy to Robin. She spoke with a softer voice than the others. “All of your communications are channeled through this relay, located here on the upper stern of the ship. There are two types of signals that pass through the relay. Radio signals for short range communications, and an optical signal for longer range transmissions. In order to use the optical link, you’ll need a clear line of sight to your intended receiver, and you may also have to align the transmitter. There’s also a provision for infrared signals, but those are only useful over very short distances.” She paused, and looked toward the rear of the room. “Um … Virginia?” she said with hesitation.