Sword of Blue (Tales of a Dying Star Book 3)

by David Kristoph

Eileen did not feel relaxed. They would defend the Emperor as he returned to the Chain! She didn't care how routine the others treated it--the patrol was the only thing Eileen had to look forward to. Even if she was just Oskar's co-pilot, burdened only with ancillary tasks.

  She followed Oskar down the long catwalk along the ceiling until they were above their ship. The Riverhawk fighter was shaped like a blue arrow: narrow at the front with wings that became progressively wider toward the rear, like a triangle. The barrels of two long lasers adorned each wing tip, with a third laser, shorter and more squat, mounted on each wing closer to the cockpit. The cockpit was oval-shaped, one seat in front of the other, with a clear glass carriage to cover them from the vacuum of space. The carriage stood open, waiting for them.

  They climbed down a ladder to the hangar floor, behind the ship, where the Riverhawk's single rear engine rested against a huge metal plate. The launch plunger looked like a huge arm with a flat palm at the end, ready to punch forward, firing the ship out the door at the other end of the hangar.

  Eileen pushed aside her hair to scratch at her neck. The flight suits here were blue instead of white and chafed in new places. Her boots had extra metal in the soles, making her steps awkward. Even the helmet she carried under her arm was shaped differently--angular instead of bubbled, with four sides like a steep pyramid with its upper half cut off. None of it was an excuse for her poor flying, but it certainly created a foreign feeling that was difficult to shake.

  It won't matter soon anyways, she thought. I'll be reassigned to Latean Orbital Defense, or sent back down to Melis, where I'll see my family's disappointment in person. She still didn't know how she would tell them. Her mother had probably bragged to all the other women in their apartment by now.

  Oskar stopped next to the Riverhawk to help Eileen with her helmet. It clicked into place with a suction sound. He smiled before grabbing his own.

  Two ships over, Cara snorted. She leaned over to her co-pilot, and whatever she said made them both erupt with laughter, echoing through the hangar. None of the other pilots joined them, but a few did glance at Eileen with unease.

  Oskar's face was emotionless behind his helmet.

  She wondered who she would be paired with when she was reassigned. A few of the pilots on Latea were like Oskar, but many more were dour, unkind men who cared little for helping rookies. There were stories of such veteran pilots who, upon receiving a pairing to which they didn't approve, would find fatal ways to reject the new pilot. The thought put a chill in Eileen's throat.

  However, the feeling was not as alarming as climbing into the ship behind Oskar. It was only the second time she'd flown a Riverhawk. Sure, she'd trained countless hours at the Academy, but the simulator was nothing like actual spaceflight. She'd learned that the hard way.

  In the Latean Orbital Defense she and Oskar focused on Needles and Sentinels and Goshawks, ships made for flight in space only. But the Riverhawk was a multi-purpose ship. It flew fine in a vacuum, but could also dive down into a planet's atmosphere, switching to aerodynamic control. It was small like a Needle, but its single engine was more powerful. Eileen found the controls far too sensitive for her hands. The simplest tasks, flying in formation or preparing to dock, were incredibly difficult.

  Eileen climbed into the rear seat, the port on the back of her flight suit snapping into the backrest. Three computer screens surrounded her, along with various other panels of dials and switches. With her suit now connected the computer screen on the left filled with data about her person.

  The Riverhawk could be flown with only one pilot, but two was ideal. The co-pilot operates the radar, communications, and other various ship details, allowing the primary pilot to focus on flying. The co-pilot seat still bore a control wheel though, a backup in case anything happened to the primary pilot.

  They could also take turns piloting so one didn't become burned-out, although the Commander had forbidden her from that. I just need more time, she thought. I could learn fast with more practice. The control wheel waited at arm's length, taunting.

  A brief crackle of static filled her helmet, followed by the droning voice of the flight coordinator. "...overlapping circles, six miles in diameter above the shipyards. Units three and four will patrol the low apsis, extending around the far end of the Chain. Be sure not to drift too near the Acceptance Station; the Ancillary transfer is six hours away. None of you should be close when it occurs, but I've marked the exact time on your flight computer as a reminder."

  Oskar began the equipment check, verifying all systems were functional. Eileen muttered confirmation at each item listed, double-checking his work. The square doors on the long wall of the hangar began opening, one in front of each Riverhawk. An electric membrane covered each doorway, shimmering slightly, protecting the hangar from the vacuum. Eileen's stomach fluttered as the door in front of her ship opened, revealing the grey Latean surface beyond.

  "Unit six," spoke the flight coordinator, "cleared for launch."

  There was a blur two ships to her right. The launch plunger ejected the Riverhawk with incredible speed. There was a clunk sound, and a vibration in her arms, as the plunger reached the end. The ship was gone, already shrinking in the distance outside the ship. The plunger began retracting, far slower than it had extended.

  A pang of excitement gripped her. She found herself speaking without thinking. "Oskar, let me launch the ship."

  He twisted in his seat to look back at her. "Absolutely not."

  She pushed on. "There's nothing to it. It's just a tall half-loop once we're away from the ship. Plenty of room."

  The flight coordinator said, "Unit seven, cleared."

  The ship to their immediate right launched, disappearing through its electric membrane. They were next.

  "Oskar, please..."

  "No."

  Eileen began a new angle of argument, but it was too late. Oskar gripped the control wheel with both hands and flicked a switch with his gloved thumb.

  The launch pulled her backward in her suit, pressing harder against the seat. Time appeared to slow down as the ship was catapulted across the hangar, through the shimmering door membrane. The white light of the hangar disappeared, replaced by an explosion of black.

  Melis was a sprawling dark orb, hanging over them like a black marble dotted with light where the cities shone. Scatterings of clouds obscured some of the light. I wonder if it's raining. Eileen enjoyed being stationed on the planet's small moon, but stars save her she missed weather. The feel of warm rain from a summerstorm was better than any artificial shower.

  The Riverhawk zoomed over the moon's landscape. Eileen pretended she was in control, mentally following the launch procedure. Oskar pressed the buttons that initiated the rear engine. It fired to life, another bump pushing her back into the seat.

  At the precise moment Oskar moved his control wheel. The Riverhawk had smaller propulsion jets all over the ship for maneuverability in a vacuum. The jets on the front and bottom of the ship fired, bending the ship away from the Latean surface. Her view of Melis and Latea spun until the moon was above her--they were upside-down. She kept her eyes on the navigation computer. When the ship had completed the half-loop Oskar twisted the ship. Their original perspective returned, with Latea beneath them and Melis above.

  Eileen frowned at the computer. I could have done that.

  They were thousands of feet above the surface now, but the Olitau was still massive. Its size seemed out of place in the shipyard, dwarfing the smaller Tortoise ships, named for the six-legged shell creatures that drifted through the oceans on Melis. The eight passenger ships combined still didn't come close to matching the size of the flagship. Tiny specks of light drifted away from the Olitau, the other Riverhawks of the Gold Wing joining them.

  The shipyard itself was framed by a square perimeter fence, toy-like next to the monstrous spacecraft it held. Guard towers were positioned at the corners and in the middle of each side, the barrels of laser turrets sti
cking out like tiny hairs. Next to the shipyard was the trade port, with various landing pads and warehouses within a smaller square fence. A few transport freighters were there now, having brought goods and materials from elsewhere in the Sarian system.

  Beyond the shipyard and trade port rose the Chain, a tether of life connecting the moon to its planet. Oskar led the Riverhawk over the shipyards in that direction. Other Riverhawks circled the Chain, already patrolling in their own units. Oskar turned them toward one pair, speeding up to join them, forming the third point of a triangle formation. There was some brief radio chatter as the unit Lieutenant, an old man named Warren, acknowledged their arrival before leading the formation back toward the shipyard.

  The third ship in their formation was piloted by Cara and Matous. "Are you sure the girl isn't piloting?" Cara asked over the radio. "Or are you just as bad at launches?"

  Oskar flicked off his radio and muttered a few colorful curses under his breath. Eileen smiled.

  "Pay attention Cara," Warren barked over the radio. "You're not so smooth a flier yourself, today. Shake off your jitters and focus."

  Their patrol route already blinked on the computer map, but Warren briefed them anyways: they were to make several circles high above the shipyard, the loops growing wider with every pass, before returning to the center to begin again. A simple, defensive patrol. He gave them other bits of information: the other nearby units, a list of incoming trade vessels, another reminder to avoid the Acceptance Station before the Ancillary power transfer.

  The radio went silent as they began their patrols, circling high over Latea like vultures. Eileen craned her neck to look down at the Chain tunnel below, but of course it was presently empty. The ceremony had probably not even started yet.

  Eileen monitored the Riverhawk's data for a little while, but everything was normal, the patrol routine. A section of the screen to her left blinked, indicating she had new personal messages. More gushing letters from family members, no doubt. She knew she needed to tell her family, but the thought filled her with dread. It would be humiliating for them to learn Eileen had lasted only a single day. And through it all they would remain supportive, telling her it was His Luminance's will, that the stars would guide her path. Somehow the comforting would make it worse.

  She pushed the thought away, refusing to face it or her family's messages.

  "You awake back there?" Oskar asked.

  "Sorry--yes."

  "I said, I can give you some recommendations when you return to Orbital Defense. For co-pilots to mentor you. Omor's a great flyer. He scrambles his Riverhawk around in a pocket formation like you wouldn't believe. And Kbak..."

  She didn't want to talk about returning to Orbital Defense. Not yet. It may only last another few hours, but she was in the Gold Wing and she wanted to savor every moment. "Oskar, let me fly."

  "Eileen..."

  "Maybe I'll crash into Cara's ship," she said. "That wouldn't be so bad, huh?"

  "Joking," he said flatly, "isn't the way to convince me."

  She considered giving up again. Do you want to say you were just a passenger in the Gold for a day? "It's just a wheel formation, nothing fancy. You know I can do that." She took his silence as consideration, and pushed on. "A mentor is supposed to nurture his student, you said it yourself. How can I improve if you do all the flying?"

  She regretted the words immediately. Oskar had done his best to help her, and it wasn't fair to put him in a position to disobey the Commander's orders. But she didn't take back the words, and felt a pang of hope when he responded. "The computer will record that I gave you control."

  "You had something in your eye. Or needed a break to pop a stimulant. That's what a co-pilot is for, right? Backup? Come on Oskar, just for a minute! Let me be able to say I've defended the Emperor. That's all I want."

  Her argument was weak, as the Riverhawks possessed autofly programs for the scenarios she described. But she was desperate to take something away from all this. Oskar sat very still, the radio silent.

  In front of her, the buttons on the control wheel glowed to life.

  She reached out and grabbed it with both hands before he could change his mind. "Ready," she said, and suddenly the wheel was no longer frozen. It responded to her movements.

  She was shaky at first, wobbling the ship in her attempt to maintain their smooth arc in formation. "You're looking at the nav computer again," Oskar said. "Lift your head, look with your eyes. Watch Warren and Cara's ships, use them to orient yourself in position."

  It was a common problem for Eileen, so it was easy for Oskar to pick it out. She focused on Warren's ship, the forward point in their triangle formation, using its relative movements to determine her own position. Soon Warren's Riverhawk remained perfectly still, her path steadily matching his.

  Watching the computer was a conscious effort to picture her course, think about what adjustments needed to be made, and then move the wheel with her hands. Three steps, from eyes to brain to hands. But true flying was a feeling, her mind and body seamlessly controlling the ship without active thought.

  "Now," Oskar said, "practice taking your eyes away, using your peripheral vision to maintain position while looking at your surroundings. Give me a quick summary of what you see."

  This was what they'd been practicing before their promotion: maintaining a formation while looking in another direction. Slowly, she peeled her eyes off Warren's ship. Dozens of other Riverhawk patrols circled the Chain and the space above the shipyard, at various altitudes above and below her. A dozen supply ships from Praetar were descending to the shipyard, the ones mentioned by Warren, bringing electroids and other necessities for the Exodus Fleet. They were long and box-shaped--Eileen imagined they were tough to fly. She saw pairs of Sentinels scattered about too, the larger missile boats that remained in fixed orbits around the moon. Eileen liked flying those: the Sentinels were sluggish, making their controls slow and deliberate, not overly-sensitive like the Riverhawks. Though she was doing fine with her ship now, she was reminded, her attention returning to formation. She listed off what she'd seen.

  "Very good. Now finish loop before I take control again."

  She smiled with realization: Cara remained silent on the radio, so Eileen's piloting must not have been noteworthy. She considered that a success. Why couldn't Jayce see me now? she wondered. If he were here with our patrol instead of attending the ceremony things might be different.

  A trickle of hope invaded her mind. If she asked the Commander for a second chance would he accept? Would she be able to fly smoothly under his scrutiny? Don't be stupid. This is a simple formation, nothing impressive.

  In front of her, Oskar's head jerked to look at something below. "What in the stars was that?"

  She looked around. "What's what?"

  Eileen's control wheel dimmed as Oskar resumed control. He switched to the group radio. "Warren, I thought I saw something down by the Olitau. It looked like an explosion."

  Warren pulled them out of formation, turning them in a tighter circle to get a better look at the flagship. Now they were facing the shipyards, still high above but tilted down, descending. Eileen smiled with satisfaction to see Cara's ship drift behind at the sudden change. Oskar had followed Warren flawlessly.

  "I don't see anything," Warren said.

  "I'm positive I saw it," Oskar insisted. "It was near the front, by the bridge."

  There was silence as they all stared, waiting. Eileen allowed herself to glance down at the ship. She searched along its length, from the bridge at the front, past the communications relay above it, past the huge ordnance cannon mounted at midship, down along its side by the hangar entrance. She ran her eyes over it a few times. There was nothing.

  A ball of light blossomed, silent and green. It was near the front of the ship, at the base of the communications relay. It lasted only a moment, winking out before she could even turn her eyes toward it. The afterimage popped at the edge of her vision as she blinked.
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  The four large dishes of the communications relay were gone. Then Eileen spotted them, or at least the remains of them, falling down the side of the ship in pieces. Clouds of dust puffed into the air where they crashed into the moon's surface.

  "All ships on alert," said Warren, calm. "Explosion sighted on the Olitau. Radar is clear, no identifiable threats in my sector. I repeat, all ships on alert..."

  Eileen was glad to no longer be flying; Warren darted them upward in a tight loop that turned them back around, away from the flagship. Even Cara was slow to respond, still lagging behind them.

  Oskar's helmeted head spun around in the cockpit, searching while he flew. "What caused the explosion? Who's shooting? I don't see anyone."

  "I don't know," Warren said. He changed his tone. "All unit leaders report in."

  Silence.

  "Unit leaders, announce the status of your sectors. What do we have out there?"

  "Some of the channels are down," Eileen said, examining her instruments. "Jamming, maybe?"

  "Olitau," Warren tried, "this is unit three, requesting moonspace status."

  "The comm relay is down," Oskar said.

  "It's connected to a backup in the shipyard control building," Warren said. "Unless it's down too, but I doubt that."

  There was a practiced calmness to Warren and Oskar's voices, but Eileen knew they were alarmed. Something was very wrong.

  "Cara," Warren asked, "do you see anything?"

  The woman didn't respond. Eileen twisted in her seat to look at the third Riverhawk. Cara had her helmet pressed against the cockpit glass, searching the surface below.

  "There, by the landing zone," said Oskar.

  Eileen saw immediately. The transport ships had landed at the trade port, where circular landing pads were paved into the moon's surface. There were flashes of green light, laser fire, from shapes exiting the ships. They poured from the transports, spreading across the surface in all directions.

  "Are those friend or foe?"

  "They don't look like friends," said Warren. "Maintain formation, let's go take a look."