Only the wounded remained in the gallery, their cries of agony sharp now that the other noise was gone. In the corner medical officers bent over a woman missing a leg. Ten feet away a pilot screamed at them, begging for help. Bodies lay everywhere, red and writhing. Many more were motionless.
Scattered throughout were overturned tables and debris from the explosions. Acteon ran to the place of that first blast, the ground sticky with powdery green residue mixed with blood. He fell to his knees in it, searching around with his hands. He thought he recognized bits of Joline's dress, the sea-green standing out against the bright green residue. Maybe it was his imagination.
His hands clasped around something. He pulled it to his face: the silver pendant Joline had worn.
Acteon clutched it to his heart, not caring about the radioactive green smearing his coat. It was the evidence he sought, the proof his mind needed. Oh Joline, my love. My star. He crouched there among the viscera, weeping softly.
He heard the sound of crying, different from the others. After a moment Acteon realized it was not his own. He looked around the room until he saw: a boy huddled under a table. Acteon rose, slipping in the green residue. He stumbled over to the boy, crouching down to see underneath the table. He was young, wearing the uniform of the Pilot Academy, a student in training. He whimpered in fright, with his arms wrapped around himself and his chin on his chest.
Footsteps announced the approach of Acteon's guards. "Sir, we need to get to the hangar. We need to go."
Acteon held out his palm to tell the guards to wait, never taking his eyes off the boy. Stars, does he look like Alard. Almost the same age too. "Hello, son? Can you hear me?"
He looked up. It was the boy from before, the one who was sick by the kitchens. His eyes widened as he took in the Admiral's face and the medals on his uniform. Acteon had to repeat the question before the boy nodded.
I couldn't save Alard, but I can save him.
"Come with me. We'll take you someplace safe."
Acteon reached out his hand, and hesitantly the boy took it. But instead of allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, the boy yanked on the Admiral's arm. Acteon fell underneath the table. He pushed himself to an elbow, confused. The boy grabbed the cloth of his uniform, sending medals falling to the ground, and held him close.
Acteon began calming the boy down, thinking he was clutching him with fright. But as he looked into his eyes he saw no fear. What stared back at him was triumph.
The boy glowed green.
Acteon called for help. The guards' feet were next to the table, reaching for him, pushing the table aside. He tried to wrench himself free but the boy gripped too tightly.
His breath was hot on Acteon's face as he screamed his death.
Part III: The Rookie
Chapter 13
"Pilot Eileen," Commander Jayce snarled, "you worthless shit. Did you even graduate from the Academy, or did you foul that up as well?"
The changing room inside the Olitau's hangar was filled with the sixty pilots of the Gold Wing, freshly returned from their practice maneuvers around Latea. Personal lockers lined the outer wall, and the pilots were in various states of undress when Jayce had stormed inside. Now every eye stared at Eileen, judging and measuring her.
She clenched her jaw to keep from quivering. Keep a strong face. You weren't that bad out there. He's testing you, hardening you before the ceremony patrol, that's all.
"Have they stopped teaching the Z-spread formation?" Jayce continued. "Because it sure as shit looks like you've never seen one before."
He paused, eyes boring into her from across the room, waiting for a response. But as soon as she opened her mouth he interrupted her.
"I don't want to know. That's how disgusted I am with your flying. Whatever favors you may have performed to get in the Gold, you can bet the stars they won't keep you here. Not if I can help it."
Eileen's co-pilot, Oskar, stepped up beside her. "It wasn't her doing, Commander. It was a misunderstanding, I was the one--"
"I don't give two shits what happened. She's here now, tainting the Wing with inexperience. When I was at the Academy a girl like her would have been thrown from the roof rather than graduated." Jayce looked around the room. "Do any of you want to defend this girl? Do you want to rely on her out in the black, when the Exodus Fleet is beset by pirates, millions of miles from civilization? If you are happy with that, if you're willing to accept that, speak now in her defense."
Silence answered him.
"Aye, that's what I thought." Jayce nodded to himself. "Oskar, I don't want Eileen touching a control wheel. She's to be your co-pilot only--no flying--until I can figure out what to do with her."
Oskar nodded curtly.
Jayce returned his attention to the rest of the room. "Your patrols are posted on the computer. Keep your eyes open. The heightened security threat is probably nothing, just some caution after the attack down in Luccar, but you never know. Pilot Brynn is in command of the Wing while I'm gone." He paused. "After the ceremony His Luminance is returning planetside by way of Chain. You'll never have the opportunity to defend Him again before our departure. Fly with pride tonight."
He strode from the room before anyone could salute.
Eileen turned back to her locker. She held her palm out to unlock it, the door swinging open with a click. She bent her head inside, pretending to fiddle with the active uniforms hanging inside so nobody could see her face.
She knew she wasn't the best. Other students at the Academy in Luccar were gifted pilots, seemingly born to grip a control wheel. It had never come naturally to Eileen, but she'd worked hard, practicing more than anyone else she knew.
At the very least she believed she was a serviceable pilot. She passed her tests and graduated, after all. Low-gravity spaceflight wasn't her strength--it was a weakness, in truth--but she'd been paired with Oskar on his patrols over Latea. The older pilot was a kind mentor, patient and understanding.
Now even he looked sideways, judging her from his own locker.
Some of the pilots left the changing room, while others disappeared into the adjoining cleanliness room to bathe. Eileen checked the messages on her wrist computer to buy herself some time. She opened the first one:
"Your father and I wanted to reiterate how proud we are of you, dear. The Gold Wing! You're the first pilot ever to skip past the Bronze and Silver. I checked. We never imagined the stars would bless us so. Your brother..."
She clicked the message away but a similar one replaced it, this one from her uncle. Click: another from her brother. Four from her father. All of them gushed with pride for Eileen. And all received in the four hours she'd been out flying.
Failing at flying, more like, she grimaced.
She waited until the showers were mostly empty before grabbing a change of uniform and leaving her locker. She and Oskar had first patrol in an hour, but a hot shower always seemed to cheer her mood. Twenty individual shower stalls lined the hallway, with benches along the opposite wall. Another pilot, a large-breasted woman, exited a stall, wet hair sticking against her nude skin. She strode by, forcing the rookie to dart out of the way. She glared at Eileen as she passed.
Eileen walked until the hallway ended, choosing the stall at the very end, farthest from everyone else. The stalls had no doors, but down here she would have at least a modicum of privacy.
She hung her fresh uniform on a peg before stripping her clothes, draping them over the wall separating her from the neighboring stall. She activated the shower, water shooting from a faucet high on the wall above her. She stood there in the steam, not even bothering to clean herself, just allowing the water and heat to melt her anxiety away.
Her first tour had been going well. For the past month she'd grown accustomed to the intricacies of spaceflight while in the Latean Orbital Defense. Oskar never showed frustration, always calmly and patiently giving her instruction, but as time passed she could tell his compliments became more genuine, less for
ced. She was improving.
Until they were unexpectedly transferred into the Gold Wing.
Oskar was thrilled, and at first Eileen mirrored his excitement. It usually took a lifetime of tours before a pilot was admitted into the prestigious fighter group, climbing through the ranks of the Bronze and Silver. She'd never known anyone to be promoted directly to the Gold. To Eileen it was confirmation that her hard work was paying off, that in spite of her doubts she was skilled.
It was all a mistake, that much was obvious now. Oskar may belong here but Eileen certainly didn't. She still reeled from Jayce's test, spinning and twisting high above the Olitau in formations so complex they'd left Eileen dizzy and nauseous. Though the shower calmed her some, it didn't remove the rising sense of dread in the back of Eileen's mind, the realization that she was in over her head. She didn't belong, and everyone knew it.
I'll request a transfer, she thought, feeling the scalding water pelt her eyelids. Someone else belongs here more than I. She wondered if she would even have the chance. Jayce would probably have her removed after he returned from the welcome ceremony, if not sooner.
Reluctantly, she turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the dispenser. She moved to the edge of the stall where the ground was dry before wiping the moisture from her body. She bent down to dry her feet, sticking her head out into the hallway.
Ten feet away, sitting on one of the benches, were three pilots: two men, and the large-breasted woman from before, who was now clothed. They stared at her, waiting.
Eileen rose sharply, concealing herself in the shower stall. What are they doing? she wondered. Something about the way they waited alarmed her. She continued drying, more slowly so she could listen. There was no sound except for the water dripping from the faucet behind her.
Until she heard shuffling, and the sound of feet on tile.
The three pilots appeared in front of her stall. They gathered around, arms crossed over their chests, blocking her way. Eileen stood still, clutching the towel to her neck to conceal herself.
The woman--Cara, by her uniform tag--looked Eileen up and down. "Skinny thing, huh?"
"Wouldn't be able to fight off a forest cat," one of the men, Matous, agreed. "Much less three of her betters."
Eileen's eyes moved from one to the other. "What do you want?"
"Look at how she covers herself," Cara said, "like a child. What are you afraid of, little girl?"
Eileen could still hear noise in the adjoining changing room. She could call for help, but that would be even more humiliating than Jayce's public scolding. In a voice she hoped sounded strong she said, "I'm not afraid."
Cara smirked. "You ought to be. I know a lot of pilots waiting for an Exodus permit. Men and women who've earned their way, bleeding and dying in service to His Luminance." She jabbed a finger through the towel into Eileen's breastbone. "What have you earned, girl? What battles have you fought?"
Eileen said nothing.
"There's only one way I can think of that you got your spot." Cara pushed aside the towel to reveal Eileen's skin, still red from the water. She jumped back, farther into the shower stall. "Whose bed did you slip into, girl?"
Matous laughed. "Obviously not Jayce's."
The other man spoke up, "She was selected by the Admiral himself. I heard the Commander talking about it."
Cara's eyes brightened. "You know, there's a rumor that madame Joline had a fight with Admiral Acteon. She's been sulking around the ship, avoiding her husband." Cara eyed Eileen as if she could see through the towel. "The Admiral has poor taste, if so. You've the body of a boy, no curves at all."
It took a moment for Eileen to realize what they meant. "What? No! I would never--"
"Madame Joline has power too, you know. I wonder what she would do if we told her who was pleasing her husband..."
"That's not what happened! Oskar was chosen by the Admiral, not me. I was just brought along because I'm his co-pilot. It was all a mistake."
All of a sudden Cara's tone changed from mocking to interrogative. "You're no pilot, so drop the helpless act and tell me true: are you a shade? Why did they send you here?"
"What?" The shades were the Empire's spies, swift and mysterious. Eileen tried to picture herself with daggers in the dark and nearly laughed.
"Why'd they send you here among the Gold?" Cara insisted. "Who are they lookin' for? What do they suspect?"
They were no longer teasing. Their faces were serious, and Matous looked outright worried. The comments about bedding the Admiral were just jokes, and it was clear this was their true purpose for accosting her. They didn't care she was a poor pilot--they thought she was a spy! "Look," Eileen began, "I don't know why you think..."
Cara moved farther into the stall. Eileen took another step back until she felt the wall behind her, pressing wetly against her backside. The larger woman yanked the towel away. Eileen fought the urge to cover herself with her arms. It was a ridiculous instinct, modesty in the face of a woman who intended her harm. Eileen held her chin up as Cara leaned forward, their noses almost touching. Her breath was sour, her voice a whisper.
"What's going on?"
Oskar pulled the men away from the stall entrance, forcing himself through. Alarm spread across his face when he saw Cara. "What are you doing?"
"Your partner needed help dressing, is all."
"Step away from her."
Cara tilted her head at Oskar, still blocking his path. "And what feats of honor did you perform to earn your place here? What tours have you completed?"
"I've five tours here on Latea, patrolling the moonspace."
Cara sized him up. "I thought so. Another without a lick of real combat. Matous and I have three tours each on Praetar, firebombing rebel outposts in the desert. You spend years doing that and you realize how easy a thing it is to kill a man." She took a step toward him.
Oskar held his place. "Eileen may be too scared to call for help, but I'm not." He raised his voice. "There's an altercation in the showers."
Eileen heard footsteps from the adjoining room. Matous and the other man looked back down the hall toward the newcomers, but Oskar stared straight at Cara, stance wide, hands curled into fists at his side.
Cara stepped close to him, and for half-a-heartbeat Eileen was certain they would clash. But then two new pilots appeared at the stall, alarmed and alert. Cara shoved past Oskar, joining her lackeys as they retreated down the hall.
The two new pilots looked from Oskar to her. "Is everything okay?"
Only then did Eileen realize she was still nude, though the others didn't seem to care. With exaggerated casualness she retrieved the towel from the floor.
"We're fine now, thank you," Oskar said. They looked at Eileen, waiting for her to nod, before leaving. Oskar exhaled, slumping into the bench across from the stall. He leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.
"They don't believe I'm a pilot," Eileen said to break the silence. "Stars, they think I'm a shade!"
Oskar looked up, eyebrow arched. "You're not, are you?"
"I am a pilot," she hissed. "Is my flying so poor that even you think I must be something else?"
"I wasn't insulting you, Eileen. I was making a joke."
Eileen stared at the floor, embarrassed.
"I can't always protect you," he continued. "I've a family of my own to worry about, two sons who are training to be pilots themselves. I can't be making enemies among the Gold Wing, not on the first day."
"I know."
"Eileen, you show a lot of promise. You may not have the skill some are born with, but you listen and work hard. You'll be a good pilot someday." He paused to take a deep breath. "But that day is not today. I'm sorry to say it, but I don't think you belong here."
Hearing the words from Oskar removed her final shred of hope at remaining. She pulled her arms through her uniform shirt and began clasping the buttons. "I know. You're right. I'm going to request a transfer. If Commander Jayce hasn't already d
one it himself." She paused. "He wouldn't really throw me off a building, would he?"
Oskar gave a pained smile. "No, he wouldn't." The smile disappeared. "I think going to him is best. I've enjoyed training you, you know. I wish it didn't have to be this way. I'm sorry."
He feels guilty, she realized. That certainly wasn't fair; it wasn't his fault they were suddenly promoted. "I know, Oskar. You've been a wonderful mentor."
He shook his head. "A mentor is supposed to protect his student, nurture and give counsel."
"You've done plenty. I was lucky; I can think of plenty of worse pilots to be paired with." She tugged on her boots, tying the laces. "I'll go talk to the Commander."
"He's at the ceremony," Oskar said, standing. "Your request can wait until after. Let's do one last patrol. At least you can go home saying you defended the Emperor."
Chapter 14
The hangar of the Olitau stretched as far as Eileen could see, an endless row of pristine ships and anxious pilots preparing to fly.
The floor was outlined in yellow-and-black stripes, indicating the launch zones for each craft from the inner wall to the outer doors. Other markings on the floor showed the location of tools and recharging cables; the ships could have their batteries burst-charged within seconds. At the back of the hangar glowed a tall, bluish-white cylinder--a power core dedicated to the hangar. The flagship possessed one massive laser ordnance, and hundreds of smaller defensive turrets, but the aircraft were its greatest strength. Even if the rest of the Olitau lost power, it was critical that the smaller ships be able to launch.
Workers ran around each ship with purpose, making last-minute checks and adjustments. The pilots were easy to pick out: they stood beside their ships with an over-practiced calmness, as relaxed as if they were about to take a nap.
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