Connor's Gambit

by Z Gottlieb

  “I see, but what about the lesson I just observed out of sequence?”

  “It was part of an award system we developed. Travis noted that my rate of progress was slowing. To be honest, many of the sections were tedious and uninteresting. I was becoming frustrated with the time it was going to take me to reach the advanced simulations. Travis and I came up with a formula to provide a reward of an advanced simulation after I complete a series. As long as my performance in the advanced simulations meets standards, he will continue to intersperse them, which explains the simulations out of sequence. In addition, if I display competency in a beginner task during the advanced simulation, Travis will remove it from the syllabus, which increases my training rate.”

  Connor smiled. “It seems like you’ve been able to not only reprogram your AI, but come up with a more efficient way to accomplish training. I recommend that in the future you do not train beyond two shift periods because it may affect your ability to rebound after a break. When you get to the battle cruiser, pass on the training program modifications to your commander.”

  “Discussing it with you isn’t enough?”

  “It’d be better if it came from you. I would not normally get involved in a training issue.” Connor looked at his friend with a serious face. “Brad, when you report to your squadron on the cruiser, you will need to balance your position in the Fleet with your access to me as a friend and father. Because of your name, few people will connect the dots and you will be better off for it. As soon as people learn about your relationship to me, you will face resentment from some and others who will try to use you to influence me. Shinny would probably tell you it’s been a constant problem throughout her career.”

  Again, Brad’s chest tightened, hearing Shinny’s name. Geez, when was this going to end? “Shinny mentioned something along those lines years ago, even though I didn’t quite understand what she was trying to say to me at the time. I’m aware of Griken’s past misguided attempts. I understand and will keep it to myself. For me, the hardest part will be the change from brother-in-law to father-in-law, though.”

  Connor shrugged at Brad’s comment. “Thirteen years ago, I had no inkling our acquaintance would evolve into a friendship or family relationship. Nevertheless, you are still my friend.” Looking at the cockpit screen, Connor snapped his fingers. “Let’s try something a little more challenging before you take a break. Travis, bring up a two-seater simulation.” Turning to Brad with a mischievous smile, “Okay, kid, let’s see your stuff, and by the way, you’re in the driver seat.”

  “Damn, it’s going to be hard getting used to being the new kid on the block,” Brad chuckled. He looked up at three Aneplé Defenders heading toward them. “I assume you’re in charge of weapons fire,” Brad said as he brought the deflector shield up to full power and flew straight toward the three Defenders. All three vehicles fired toward them. Brad dropped three missiles programed to remain stationary and pulled the Defender upward into a circular arc.

  “What the hell, I thought I was the weapons officer?” Connor frowned, fingering his controls.

  “You are. I dropped the missiles to act as chaff and provide a target for their missiles.” Brad flipped the Defender over to complete an inner loop behind the three enemy vehicles. Connor aimed at the three, hitting two of them. The vehicle on the right made a sharp turn to the right, pulling away from the other two vehicles to avoid being hit. “You know, missing that third vehicle is going to make my life difficult.”

  “Bite me, just get us into position,” Connor snarled.

  The projection on the windshield showed the Aneplé Defender had circled behind them. Brad rapidly increased the Defender’s speed and watched the Aneplé Defender match his speed. He kept accelerating until ten percent below maximum, allowing the opposing Defender to catch up. “Hang on, this might not be too pretty.” The Aneplé fighter was not quite in firing range though it had reached maximum speed. Watching the gauges, Brad cut the engine and used the thrusters to “hit the brakes” and pop-drop 20,000 feet. Again, using thrusters, he popped up behind the Aneplé Defender that had just flown over them and Connor fired another direct hit.

  “Nice, didn’t see that coming. You need to fly back so we can pick up my stomach,” Connor joked. “Travis, save the sequence record for cross training.” He turned to Brad. “Smart catch on dropping the chaff. You may want to also share this with your future squadron when you train with them, if they have not included that in their tactics. Although, be aware some of the idiot bureaucrats will argue that dropping the missiles is a waste of precious resources.”

  “I hope you’re kidding. Far cheaper than losing the pilot and vehicle.”

  “Unfortunately, no, I’m not kidding. It irks me that, at times, bottom-line costs have a higher priority in CIG politics than the safety of Fleet personnel. Perhaps being recalled was also an indication of changes in that area.”

  Brad shook his head. “Hard for me to believe, but I guess some things never change when it comes to bureaucrats. Will you have more time to train with me?”

  “If there are other areas you want to practice together, let me know. But for now, get some rest.”

  Chapter 11

  Pilot Laco Voodel swiped through the training record, wondering what the admirals were thinking. He maintained a neutral expression as he examined the record, to avoid expressing this in front of Commander Janeque. When Kiraine was asked to talk to him, both Connor and Admiral Griken had likely stressed that ultimately it was Laco’s decision and not to pressure him. Laco wasn’t an idiot; he knew exactly where the request came from, but the question was whether or not he could make the decision without outside influence, especially knowing the admirals were behind it.

  Laco swiped through the record looking at the time stamps, wondering how Johnson did it. It was an impressive accomplishment. He had almost completed Swarm Defender training, with the exception of a few of the advanced second seat modules, in a very short time. He found it curious Connor had signed off on a few of the trainee’s advanced lessons. It also seemed strange that Johnson had decided to train on a number of other platforms and scenarios, scoring well above standard proficiency. “Do you know why he was training on the different vehicles and practicing transiting through folded space?”

  “No one has asked. But we believe it was from a combination of interest and trying to keep busy. Apparently, he was able to rapidly advance through the coursework because of the skills he already possessed. Also, he was clearly interested in learning as much as possible, which we believe led him to training on the other vehicles.” Kiraine watched Voodel continue to swipe through Johnson’s record. “I could ask Johnson to talk to you and answer your questions, if that would help.”

  “It isn’t necessary. It wouldn’t affect my decision. However, I have one other question, though. Why am I being asked? Couldn’t Connor do this?”

  “Fortunately, Connor had discussed this very issue with me. There are three reasons. While Connor is senior in the Fleet, as Connor has stressed to me, in this vehicle, as primary pilot, you are in charge. The safety of this vehicle is your responsibility, and Connor respects your position. He will accept your decision and not question it. The second reason is that as a former instructor, you are qualified to sign off on Johnson’s flight record and your experience as an instructor is more recent than Connor’s. The third reason is that because of the short time frame Johnson has committed himself on this deployment, it is unlikely he will have an opportunity to fly anything other than Swarm Defenders once he reports to the battle cruiser. In the long-term, Trainee Johnson will be better off having you sign off on the flight, rather than Connor. There will always be questions raised about Johnson’s competency if he has too many of Connor’s fingerprints on his record.”

  “I see,” Laco noted as he continued to swipe through the record. Laco didn’t understand the admirals’ interest in the trainee, but he couldn’t see any reason to refuse the request. “It’s a
good thing Johnson’s training record demonstrates he is ready to take it to the next level. He has definitely earned the opportunity to fly a vehicle. Otherwise, I would have a difficult time making the decision, with the underlying pressure,” he stated in amusement. “I’ll talk to Connor since there still is time before the next shift change.”

  Brad stood at the counter in the kitchen finishing off the last single serve pizza in the freezer. He decided it was his right to eat the last pizza, since it was traditional food from Earth and he was the only true native from Earth. It looked like once they reached the battle cruiser, he would be on a diet of the funny-tasting pinkish blue green stuff. Maybe he was being harsh, but he hadn’t developed a liking for their food. No wonder the CIG Fleet members were so thin. After finishing off the last pizza, he regretted he wouldn’t be able to work it off, since Shinny spent all of her waking moments hogging the gym. He still wasn’t ready to talk to her. He looked up and saw Connor and Voodel walking toward him. They better not want my pizza, he joked to himself. It was odd they were here so close to shift change. He wondered if there was a problem. Hopefully not, since they still had one and half shifts left before reaching the cruiser. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not really. We’ve been discussing your training record and think you should consider doing something else,” Connor replied.

  “If there’s an issue, do you want to review it with Travis?” Brad asked.

  Voodel, looking somewhat perplexed, turned to Connor. “Who’s Travis?”

  “Johnson named his trainer ‘Travis.’ It’s a quirk of his home planet to name inanimate objects and AIs.”

  “Interesting. Do you think naming the trainer directly impacted the training results?” Voodel asked.

  Connor turned to Voodel. “I don’t know. However, that is an interesting concept. It may be of value to one day examine the impact of personalization on the rate of completion or scoring.”

  Brad looked at them, confused; he couldn’t imagine renaming the trainer would cause a problem. Connor didn’t seem upset at the time. Maybe he should have worked harder and not developed a relationship with his trainer, if that was the problem. “Do I need to rename Travis back to Trainer?”

  Connor chuckled. “No, we came by to ask you if you thought you were ready to fly a vehicle. Would you like to fly as the copilot? Voodel will sign off as your instructor if you meet performance standards.”

  Brad stood there speechless. He had not expected to be offered the opportunity to fly in space until he reached the battle cruiser. If they were offering, he wasn’t going to walk away. Now, he just needed to remain calm and not act like an idiot jumping up and down in glee, because that was exactly how he was feeling inside. Brad inhaled deeply then replied, “If you are offering me the opportunity, then I must be ready.” Brad threw his plate into the recycle receptacle as he followed Connor and Pilot Voodel to the front cabin.

  Laco calculated the time left before they would enter the transit gate and decided it was about time to switch. Pilot Divazz was asleep in her tube, off shift, leaving just Connor and him in the front. Connor and he had agreed Brad would sit in the copilot seat and then Laco would decide later if he was ready for the first seat based upon his performance. While he was impressed with Johnson’s training scores, he was concerned there might be issues, since he completed the modules in record time. It was well known in the Fleet that, sometimes, there were mismatches between the scores and actual performance. But so far he hadn’t seen anything that would concern him. “Brad, would you like to take first seat?”

  “If you think I’m ready, I wouldn’t mind.” Brad looked at his watch and realized he had been sitting in the copilot seat for over two hours. The offer to take first seat surprised him. Although his primary function as copilot was to watch the settings on the gauges and ensure the sensors’ measurements were recorded in the logs as required, Laco had also allowed him to take control of the spacecraft a few times. Laco hadn’t made many comments and he didn’t have an indication if Laco’s silence was good or bad, as he didn’t know the man beyond his observations over the past week. Connor sat behind them, next to Griken, and had remained quiet. But that was typical for Connor when he was focused on his own projects. So far flying the transportation vehicle seemed easy and mundane in comparison to the training modules, but then again, he didn’t want anything exciting to happen while he was sitting in the front.

  “You’re ready. If there’s an issue, I won’t be too far away. I’m also going to let you take the vehicle through the transit gate. The distance between the two gates is a little more than most first time transit gate flights but I think you can handle it. Just make sure you are prepared.” Laco stood up and moved behind the seats to switch positions with Brad.

  Brad sat down in the lead pilot seat and waited for the seat and harness to adjust to his body. “Thank you for this opportunity.” He was relieved this would be his first time. While he was looking forward to flying the Swarm Defenders off the battle cruiser, the first time would be stressful with the combination of the cruiser’s flight operations and everyone watching. At least this way, he would have some experience flying in space before he reported to his squadron. He stared at the transit gate looming ahead, thinking what he needed to do to prepare for transit. He gestured over the dashboard and gradually took control over the vehicle. Once he felt comfortable, he set the vehicle on autopilot while he looked at the route they would be taking through the folded space. He plotted the course and programed a number of subroutines. The subroutines would supplement the pre-programed ones stored in the database. He believed he could use the subroutines as additional counter maneuvers to provide a smoother ride through the folded space.

  Laco watched. “Why are you creating the additional subroutines?”

  “Because I don’t have a steering yoke to accommodate for the small counterbalances required to smooth the bumps we might hit in the folded space, I’m creating additional subroutines as minor adjustments to the pre-programmed ones. They’re based upon the last mapping of the area. I understand there is a possibility the subroutines will be worthless because of any recent traffic through the gate that may have caused changes in the folds that have not been updated on this vehicle. Nevertheless, I want to be as prepared as possible.”

  “Not a bad idea. Where did you learn to program? It’s not part of our training platform.”

  “I picked up the training in school and am part owner of a software company. My business partner taught me a few tricks. But, to be honest, had it not been for the chip, I would not have picked up your programing language as quickly as I did, nor would I have been able to create these subroutines as quickly as I have.” He assumed Laco did not know his true relationship to Connor, so he was reluctant to mention any more about it following their conversation.

  Brad continued to create the additional subroutines as they approached the gate. He was probably overdoing it, but, maybe, when this was over, Laco would give him an “A” for effort. Looking forward, he watched the gate light up, welcoming the transport vehicle. The gates normally lit up as the vehicles entered and exited, as visible signals for the local planets and space traffic. Since Earth was still under observation, the tethered gate behind the moon had not been outfitted with the lighting system. He imagined once Earth was welcomed into CIG, watching the space traffic would become the new hobby for amateur astronomers that watched for the edges of the moon to brighten from the gate lighting from the back.

  Brad took the vehicle off autopilot and piloted it through the gate. The autopilot could have handled the gate transit, but he wanted to understand the gestures required to control the vehicle and accelerate through the gate. Connor had warned him transiting through folded space would be like driving on a swampy road riddled with potholes. The trick was to maintain speed and counter the potholes before they occurred or were felt. The potholes were wrinkles from the folded space similar to air turbulences he had encountered in his singl
e engine plane. While the gesturing executed the programs, he missed having a control yoke. He could foresee gesturing through the folded space for a few hours might make his arms sore by the time they reached the exit gate. He hoped the time he spent in the trainer would pay off and his arms wouldn’t hurt, much.

  Laco watched Brad bend his fingers and wiggle them as he gestured across the dashboard. “So far your control over the vehicle is excellent. However, I don’t understand your finger movements. Explain what are you doing with your fingers?”

  “I’m executing the counter maneuvers.” Brad lifted his right hand. “Each finger controls a series of the programs.” He lifted his left hand. “This hand controls the spacing or timing of the actual program. It’s similar to typing. It is more precise than hand gesturing.”

  “What is typing?”

  Brad sent a video clip to Laco’s tablet to view. “Typing is shown in the clip I just sent to you. It is the primary method by which we input information into our computers. Let me demonstrate.” Brad moved his fingers, causing the vehicle to jump. A male voice behind him protested. “I apologize, beginner’s error.” He turned to Laco with an impish grin. “Probably the first and last time I make that error.”

  Laco grinned. “I believe you are right with that assumption.”

  While Laco was quiet, he seemed open and friendly. “Laco, who are the Aneplé? Are they another species, or an evil empire?”

  Laco pressed his lips together. “Unfortunately, they are us.”

  Laco’s voice was edged in pain. Brad considered dropping the subject, but felt compelled to understand the conflict more. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”