Only Human

by Chris Reher

  He snarled, pulling at the stiff collar. "How can you stand these soldier suits? It's like wearing a box. Is this necessary?"

  "The Colonel doesn’t want us looking like a couple of Outland scouts here,” she replied. “Bad enough that the Eagle looks like one.” She smiled, but the awkwardness that she had felt since they had left Delphi two days ago made that smile feel false on her lips.

  She had awoken aboard the Eagle with a minor hangover, wondering if that moment near the valley’s rim had been a dream. Tychon certainly made no reference to it and seemed completely oblivious to her discomfort as he readied the ship for takeoff. He let her jump the charted reach to Targon by herself and seemed pleased by her performance. In the end, she decided that the thick Feydan wine had led her to imagine things.

  They took a shuttle to the arrival gate, their identification as Vanguard passing them swiftly through security checkpoints. A small assembly stood at attention on the concourse.

  Nova looked over her shoulder to see who was being welcomed in this grandiose way before she realized that she and Tychon were the focus of their attention. She glanced at the Major who seemed little impressed by the formal reception. A Colonel stepped forward to greet them.

  Tal Carras was the commander of the Union's base on Targon but he also directed the squad of Vanguard scouts that answered only to him. Nova had met him only a few times before today and hoped that their previous encounter was not foremost in his memory. He was Centauri, evidenced by the slow drawl of his speech and the violet eyes that carried a disturbing luminescence of their own. Heavy jowls and a generous mouth as well as a sizable girth did not seem to match his standing as one of the most decorated officers on Union records. He walked with a slight limp when he came up along the ramp to meet them.

  "Major Tychon, Captain Whiteside, welcome to UCB Targon. We are most pleased that you decided to join the battle at hand. We were grateful for Captain Devaughn's timely warning and, as you can see, are on alert." He directed a long and searching look at Nova before addressing Tychon directly. "I have made you a temporary squadron leader."

  "Thank you, sir," Tychon replied. "It will be my honor to take a command again."

  The Colonel turned to the small honor guard. "Troops," he said loudly. "It is scouts like these who keep Trans-Targon and the Homeworlds safe from the rebels. Emulate them, perhaps some of you, some day, will be worthy of the Vanguard."

  Tychon fidgeted under the awed stares of the younger officers, a little irritated by the impassioned speech that followed. It was a while before they were free to make their way down to the multi-level flight decks.

  Nova elbowed Tychon when they reached the concourse. "Hey, there she is! Cassandra! And I know those two people, too. Maybe we can all get together."

  "You are delightful. We are in a war zone and you want to play."

  A woman of Nova's age had turned at her call. She was Centauri, comfortably round and curving where Nova was lithe and long-muscled. Tychon regarded her with some interest.

  "Nova! I hadn't dreamed to see you this soon, by the living ghosts of Djink! I heard about your coup on K'lar. I could never have pulled off something like that. What fucking nerve, walking into Tharron's training camp! You got cojones, Takhuu." She saluted Tychon. "Major."

  "This is Vanguard Seven commander, Major Tychon."

  "We have heard about you, too, Major," Cassandra said respectfully, then turned back to Nova. "I'll get everyone that isn't on alert together later, once we've hauled Tharron's ass out of here. It'll be fun! But I'll see you at the brief, anyway." She threw Tychon another salute and another curious glance and jumped onto a passing trolley.

  "We're on duty," Tychon reminded Nova.

  "Just a little party! I haven't seen them–"

  "In a few weeks," he said, amused. "It's all right, Takhuu. You have been cooped up with me for what probably seems like years."

  "That is not at all what I meant," she said quickly.

  "Yes, you did. Let’s find some weather gear. It’s going to be a high-altitude scuffle."

  * * *

  The utter riot of motion and noise that greeted the pilots in the vast caverns below the city belied the efficiency and order for which Targon was noted. Hundreds of Union soldiers milling around their rally points filled the cold air with a thrum of tightly-wound anticipation. Nova gathered from the excited exchanges among them that the enemy carrier had dropped into normal space near Targon and would be here within two hours. There was still time to assign shifts and squadrons before the launch.

  They spotted Nova’s friend Cassandra waving excitedly from across the hall, shouting something that got lost in the din.

  “I think I’m going to catch up with Carras while you do whatever it is that you do with your people,” Tychon said. He tugged on a strap sewn to her collar. “That thing pinches if it gets under your helmet. See you on the launch.”

  Nova was at once surrounded by her friends, all of whom were eager to hear about her work as Vanguard and the places she had seen. Her sudden, unexplained departure from Myra had been a surprise to them. Some of them watched the Major take the steps to the upper gallery a few at time on his way to where Carras was overseeing the mayhem. Nova did not miss the covert exchange of knowing glances among some of them.

  "What a nice example of male flesh," a light, musical voice said behind Nova.

  Nova turned and groaned inwardly. "Clio? I didn't know you were on Targon!"

  The woman did not seem interested in catching up on news and adventures. She was still looking at Tychon's receding figure. "I always knew you'd go far," she said. "But not that far."

  Nova glanced at her sharply. "Yes, thank you. I worked hard to make Vanguard."

  "Well, I guess it gets pretty lonely out there. Any port in a storm, they say."

  "Lay off, Clio!" a sharp voice rang past Nova's ear.

  Clio blinked at Cassandra, who had threaded her way through the crowd.

  "I was only–"

  Cassandra smiled sweetly and tapped a finger on the insignia at her shoulder. "Dismissed, Sergeant."

  Tight-lipped, the woman saluted without decorum and moved away.

  "What a lewd piece of dogdirt."

  "Cassy, you didn't have to pull rank," Nova said, amused as always by the Centauri's fondness for expletives. Like most Union soldiers, Cassandra owned few personal belongings in a system where personnel were moved often to wherever the need was greatest. She collected words like others collected off-world pebbles or currency. She liked to display her collection whenever possible, within or without context.

  "Do you have any idea how much I enjoy pulling rank? That Dorftrottel had it coming. Now where is that yummy one of yours? How can you let him out of your sight, precious?"

  "He’s not mine!"

  Cassandra laughed, her violet eyes sparkling with the sincerity of her mood. "You get a Delphian to smile in public? He actually touched you! So, out with it. Is it true that they're naked under their clothes?"

  "What? Of course they'd... Oh, that. I don't know! I told you."

  Her friend laughed. "Oh, fine. Keep us wondering, then. Phril mach doneh!"

  "Yes, I had better go," Nova moved away.

  "Oh, did I say something stupid? I'm just having some fun. There's been such furious gossip flying around since you two landed here that I couldn't resist."

  "What are they saying?"

  "I think you can imagine. Probably jealous. Your baby's got to be the handsomest thing I have ever seen! But I shouldn't have stuck my flippin' nose where it doesn't belong. I'm sorry if I pissed you off. Gomen nasai."

  An alarm sounded briefly and all pilots now looked up as their assignments scrolled by on a huge overhead screen. Nova marked her launch chute and joined a group of pilots waiting for a trolley. They were ferried through vast chambers, dodging other trolleys and air cars as the last of the non-combat planes were secured below ground. She saw passenger transports hastily parked next to small
cargo vessels and other planes not designed to leave Targon's atmosphere.

  Idly, Nova wondered how the owners of some of the private cruisers would reach their ships. Everything was packed tightly. She knew that moving these vehicles above ground again would be handled with the proper amount of delays and work slowdowns. It was fortunate that their Eagle would always receive priority clearance.

  At last the connecting storage halls gave way to the launching bays. Orderly rows of fighter planes faced the tunnel openings. Only the kites seemed in repose. Wherever Nova looked, people, tows and trolleys scurried in preparation for takeoff. Lights flashed to direct the hangar jockeys and many voices shouted orders, warnings and a joke or two.

  Nova was dropped off near the fighter plane that she was to take into battle. Tychon's assigned kite stood nearby and so she readied both planes for take-off after testing the neural link on her fighter. Tychon found her after roll call.

  "Going to change your orders, Greenie," he greeted her.

  "What? Why? I'm ready to go here."

  He shook his head. "You're not flying wing."

  She gasped. "Are you serious? I'm not deploying? I'm a fighter pilot, above all. Why would you not want me up there?"

  He raised his hand to ward off her outburst. "Remind me to start you on some basic exercises in attaining stillness and balance. It's a valuable skill."

  She grimaced.

  "Stop being a fighter pilot. Start thinking like Vanguard. Take the Eagle. You'll find it at gate nine. Power down in orbit. Don’t get noticed." He looked up when an alarm sounded. "That's me." He pinned his gloves between elbow and ribs and raised his hands to touch her face. "Hold still." He tilted her head and placed the tips of his fingers against the neural ports on her temples.

  He closed his eyes.

  "Tychon, what..." she began, uneasy now. She felt an eerie, pulsating charge, like an electronic ticking, radiate from his finger tips and meet somewhere in her brain. "What are you doing?"

  There is more to us Delphians than you know.

  "I realize that…" He had not spoken aloud! What was happening?

  What's happening, came the reply to her unspoken question, is that we will be able to stay in touch out there. It’s also much faster than talking. He put on his gloves and helmet and climbed into his plane. She could still understand him even after the kite's canopy closed over him. We have to keep com open to talk to the others but this way you and I cannot be overheard by the rebel.

  This is really weird. Can you read my mind?

  No. He seemed amused. I'm using your neural taps. I can understand only what you mean to communicate. Every bit as precise as the plane.

  Can I still interface with the Eagle?

  Yes, plenty of space in your head.

  Amazing. What else can you do?

  He projected a smile. Your head doesn't hurt? You feel euphoric? High?

  Nova thought about this for a moment. She felt wonderful! No.

  He hovered his plane out of the bay to join his squadron at the launch point outside. His attention was on his maneuvers and he sent nothing further, but she still perceived the steady contact that his presence, calm and confident, had inside her head. It felt much like it did when their neural interfaces linked for a long jump.

  She flagged a nearby shuttle to take her out to where the Eagle waited and found that Tychon had already cleared it for take-off. Quickly, she completed her pre-flight and then boarded the ship to prepare for take-off.

  Tychon's squad was only one of many who soared toward a surprised enemy. Tharron's attack force had been approaching in a formation designed to pick off a hastily assembled defense launch. Instead, they were met by a disciplined offense and were forced to regroup before they even entered the planet's thin atmosphere.

  Few enemy planes even managed to break through the tight net of defenders to reach Targon's aboveground installations. The base received only a few superficial hits. One greenhouse among many was destroyed and a tunnel linking the commercial landing chutes to the distribution center caved in. All visitors and personnel had been herded far below ground where they waited anxiously, packed into emergency accommodations.

  The main battle ensued far above the surface skirmish. Cruising at some distance, Nova listened to Tychon's com link as he relayed his orders, leading his unit competently and with a steady hand. Only she knew his commands before the other team members.

  Enough of this furball. Where is that horse they rode in on? Tychon projected his thoughts. Care to join me, Whiteside?

  You want me to take the Eagle into a dogfight?

  He sent a negative. Go neural.

  She settled more comfortably into her couch and engaged the ship's interface, breathing slowly to calm her mind. He acknowledged the connection when he felt her relinquish manual control.

  Follow but don't shoot. We're going to pay them a visit.

  She frowned. They could be anywhere. That jumpsite is long closed. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she guessed his intent. Oh, no, you're not! Are you out of your–

  "They're on my tail, they're on my tail," Tychon transmitted to his wing, a peculiar note of panic in his voice. "Bugging out!" Nova watched her sensors, half-amused and half-angry, as his kite left the planet and headed farther into space. As he had hoped, several enemy shrills followed in close pursuit.

  Find that com relay, Whiteside!

  She focused on the ship's sensors, sweeping widely, ignoring Targon's satellites and the ring of junk floating around the planet, all of it carefully marked by Union beacons. The one she looked for was not Union issue and it was most certainly not among the junk.

  Got it! She sent him coordinates and he raced toward it, apparently by coincidence, dodging enemy fire at such close quarters that Nova winced every time she perceived a volley near Tychon.

  You've only got a few seconds, Nova. Make it count.

  She prepared for the required and not entirely safe acceleration, horrified when she saw his kite miscalculate and start to spin out of control. She listened with growing terror to his static reply. "Controls out...no fire power...can't..."

  Finally, she saw him gain control of his craft within a concentration of enemy fighters, surrounded and powerless. She bit her lip, waiting for one of them to decide to take a shot. Seconds passed, too many seconds. What could they possibly be discussing over there? At last, they turned with Tychon in their midst, his surrender accepted.

  Are you sure about this? she projected, itching to engage her gun controls.

  There it is. Time for you to make an entrance, Captain. She received a very clear impression that any argument would be pointless.

  Nova shot toward the point in space to which the enemy relay beacon had led them. Indeed, her systems warned her that a jumpsite was about to open - usually a good point in time to move to a safe distance. She felt, through her sensors, the site open to create a transit between here and the enemy spanner working on the others side, many light years away.

  Incoming!

  Nova cursed. Of course they would have used the breach to send more planes to Targon rather than waste energy just to receive a few returning fighters and their captive. She was spotted and targeted even as she saw Tychon and his hosts catapult into the reach. She felt a few hits rattle the Eagle's composure but the ship held true and followed her mental directive to slip into the reach only seconds behind Tychon and the shrills.

  Silence.

  A rapid heartbeat, probably her own.

  A moment of panic, definitely hers.

  Then substance returned into her life and she looked around, instantly beginning to pick shrills off Tychon's back. The Eagle's superior armaments took them easily, letting Tychon power up his own systems again and join the battle.

  There she blows! Nova exclaimed, caught up in the excitement now.

  Who what? Tychon dove under an enemy plane and came up at six.

  Enemy carrier ahead.

  I see it. Pitifu
l.

  Nova agreed. Not expecting to be found out here, rebel command had merely sent several squadrons of fighters on a carrier, barely armed and now poorly defended. Yet any carrier in Tharron's employ and the spanners it took to move them through uncharted keyholes was a worthwhile trophy. He was able to replenish his arsenal only at huge expense and great risk.

  Both Nova and Tychon dodged volleys emitting from her arrays.

  How the hell do I blow this up? Got specs you can magically shove into my head?

  You’re not. Can you see me?

  She sent an affirmative. Another shrill was coming up behind him, targeted and destroyed by the Eagle as soon as Nova perceived its presence.

  Thanks. When I take off, head for that long tower over their bridge. Follow that line down to where you see a dark patch near a service bay. See it? Good.

  You want me to hit that? From here?

  That’s the plan. It will disable their power supply systems. And life support but they’ll be fine for a while. Maybe. On your left is a small flap with a hexagon on it. Switch the missile selector to the red line at the end.

  Don't tell me...

  A minor modification. Let’s hope it’s enough. Let's do this quickly before they recall the gaggle. You ready?

  On your mark.

  His kite swooped past the carrier's array to draw their fire along with the enemy fighters still buzzing around the ship. Nova directed the Eagle into the opposite direction. A few near-hits glanced off her shields. Nova muttered a few angry invocations. She knew that a more direct strike at this distance would make her first Eagle solo flight her last.

  She passed over the ship and aimed her weapon at the point that Tychon had shown her. The missile arrowed toward it, impacted and pulverized against a shield.

  Shielded too hard. Damn. Took out the gate but not much else.

  Tychon thought for only a moment before issuing his orders.

  Nova felt as if he had punched the air out of her lungs. The audacity of his proposal was too outrageous for her to even begin to protest. She could do little but stare breathlessly at her monitors as he aligned his plane with the damaged gate and programmed a short flight sequence. Then she saw his canopy open and Tychon, complete with pilot couch, catapult into space. Seconds later, his plane collided with the enemy carrier, punched through the weak spot and drove deep into her interior.