In the Blink of an Eye

by Mark Dutkiewicz

  “Knight. Skid. How you feel kid?” James voice crackled over the radio.

  “Fine. Excited. Nervous, anxious. A little bit of everything.”

  An amused chortle answered him. “Yeah. That’s about what I expected.”

  Jeff lowered the fighter’s canopy. The plane stood before a large airlock door that opened into a dark chamber. At the far end he saw a matching hatch with a series of indicator lights suspended above it. With surprising speed, the razor was whisked into the tube followed by a satisfying snap as it was seated into the catapult. Outside the loading crew quickly vacated followed by the whirring sound of the heavy airlock doors closing. It was the last sound he’d hear other than the hiss of the ships computer and life-support system until he returned to the ship. The dull rumble of the Tungsten’s engines slowly faded as the atmosphere was vented from the chamber leaving him in near silence. The indicator light changed from red to yellow. The hatch before him silently rose revealing a long dark tunnel.

  “Tungsten tower, Knight three zero four. In tube seven. Good power, good wipeout,” Jeff announced into the helmet mic.

  “Knight three zero four,” the flight controller replied. “Adjust thrust vector to pitch starboard Z minus one-thousand meters.”

  “Roger. Z minus one-thousand meters.”

  The launch indicator turned bright green. “Knight three zero four. Clear to launch call when spaceborne.”

  “Three zero four.” In the span of two heartbeats that felt more like minutes the razor was propelled forward. Faster and faster the craft hurtled down the tube as Jeff howled like a kid on a rollercoaster. The bulkhead markings illuminated by the fighter’s running lights quickly became a blur and in seconds the ship erupted from the Tungsten’s hull. Now free of the catapult the razor coasted swiftly away from the Tungsten. Quickly activating the thrusters Jeff pull the fighter to the right a dove below the carrier’s keel. “Knight three zero four spaceborne,” he called. Twisting the flight stick he rotated the craft on its axis rewarding him with a spectacular view of the Tungsten silhouetted by the vast sweeping grandeur of deep space.

  A proximity alarm sounded pulling Jeff out of his momentary appreciation of the view. “Watch your flank rookie!” the voice of Joanne chirped in his ears. Moments later her razor zipped past at an uncomfortably close distance. Quick bursts from her maneuvering thrusters sparked off the sides of her ship and the craft made a barrel roll mimicking atmospheric flight.

  “Apple. Stop picking on the kid,” James laughed over the channel.

  “Just testing his reflexes Skid,” Joanne teased. “Hope I didn’t goose ya too hard Knight.”

  “No harm done Apple Bottom,” Jeff shot back nonchalantly. “I’ll just have to return the favor one day.”

  “Keep dreaming rookie. And call me Apple. Don’t like folks talking about my bottom.”

  “Sounds like a good story,” Jeff laughed.

  “Not if it’s your bottom it doesn’t.”

  “I’ll fill you in on that one later Knight,” James added mirthfully. “Let’s just say it involves an admiral’s couch.”

  “Skid you no good—”

  “What’s that Apple?”

  A moment of silence filled the channel before Joanne finally answered, “Nothing!”

  “That’s what I thought,” the amusement in James voice was impossible to miss. “All right Knight. How about we skip all that maneuvering formation flying, boring ass, bullshit and jump right into something fun. Like target practice.”

  “Sounds good to me.” A wry smile graced Jeff’s lips.

  “Tungsten. Skid. Give me six target drones. Calibrate AI levels five to seven.”

  “Copy Skid,” the flight controller replied. “Please verify. Six target drones AI levels five to seven.”

  “Affirmative Tungsten. You ready for this kid?”

  “About as ready as I’m gonna be,” Jeff said, a hint of cockiness caressing his voice.

  “Okay. Let’s see what you’ve got,” James said with a mischievous laugh. “Trial–by–fire!”

  Double checking his weapons systems Jeff’s eyes greedily scanned the tactical information scrolling across his visor. Grasping the throttle, he drummed his fingers across it. Focusing on the HUD he waited anxiously. Six blips popped up and he threw the razor to full speed angling to intercept them. The HUD lit up with data about his targets in a constant stream of information. Weight, speed and trajectory flashed before his eyes as he closed the distance. The drones twisted and dove amongst each other in a haphazard dance attempting to confuse him.

  “This is Knight. Tracking six bandits two-hundred forty kilometers out. Attempting weapons lock. I’ve got good tone.” The drones juked about on his screen splitting their ranks. Twisting the razor, Jeff struggled to keep up with their rapid changes in direction. “Jeez these things are fast,” he rasped to himself.

  “Take your time Knight,” James encouraged. “It takes a while to get the feel for it. Just remember to lead your targets and above all relax.”

  Taking a cleansing breath Jeff refocused on his quarry. “This is Knight. Good tone. Good tone.” Come on you little shits, he thought as the twisting and diving continued. Three quick chirps sounded from the console followed by a steady buzz. “This is Knight. Three bandits lit. Fox two!” Three missiles jumped from the fighter’s wings when he squeezed the trigger. Corkscrewing ahead the destructive cylinders raced with deadly speed and accuracy. Whipping the razor wide he watched in anticipation as his payload closed the distance. An explosion as if a silent fiery bubble of gas popped lit up space for an instant.

  “Splash one!” Jeff exclaimed excitedly. Two more fiery balls followed in quick succession the other two drones finding similar fates. “Grand slam! All bandits destroyed!”

  Turning his attention to the remaining targets Jeff studied the HUD. The devious little devices darted about teasing him. Adjusting his speed, he moved to engage the nearest target. Firing several short bursts from his guns he was forced to wheel the plane in a wide arc as the quarry stopped reversing course towards him. Simulated fire was indicated by the computer and the HUD spun wildly across his visor maintaining contact with the elusive targets. Adjusting his course, he again moved to intercept pushing the razor to full speed bearing down on the drone.

  “Tricky little suckers aren’t they?” James laughed. “Don’t over think it.”

  Gripping the stick Jeff squeezed off a few more bursts attempting to corral his prey. An alarm sounded, the HUD indicating the other two closing in on his tail. James was flying close on his wing and a plan began forming in Jeff’s brain. “Skid. You see those two trying to sneak in on our six?”

  “Yeah. They’re coming in hot.”

  “Good. On my signal break hard right. I’ve got an idea.”

  “I can’t wait to see this,” James joked.

  Dropping his speed Jeff signaled to James to follow his lead. Weaving the craft lazily about an alarm sounded warning of potential weapons lock.

  “I don’t like this Knight. They’ve almost got us locked up.”

  “Trust me,” Jeff said. A satisfied smirk grew on his face as he lured the drones in closer. The distance ticked down rapidly on the HUD. “Just a little bit more,” he muttered to himself. The weapons lock alarm sounded and Jeff yelled, “Now Skid. Break, break, break!” Wrenching the flight stick back he cut off the throttle. A brief glimpse of James’ razor peeling away crossed Jeff’s eyes as he somersaulted his own craft. Punching the engines back to full he hammered on the trigger spraying a rain of deadly slugs into the oncoming drones. The lead target tore apart instantly, the other managing to avoid the brunt of the deadly hail accelerated off to his right.

  Twisting the razor Jeff sped after the wounded drone. Whatever it now lacked in speed didn’t affect its agility. Burst after burst of gun fire continued to miss the target. Gritting his teeth Jeff tensed in frustration. Another quick burst brushed past the drone diving to the left. Turning with the
target another alarm sounded. The other device still wandering the area was moving to intercept him. Jeff spun the razor laterally placing the drone he’d been chasing between him and the new threat. Cutting the throttle again he fired thrusters turning the craft to offer a firing lane. Inertia continued to propel the plane sideways allowing him to attempt another weapons lock. The tone was good. Jerking the stick, he rolled the craft calling, “Guns, guns, guns.” The wild volley corralled the drones towards one another. In a stroke of luck, the tactic worked. The two attackers collided amongst the flurry of bullets erupting in a hail of debris.

  Triumphantly Jeff cried, “Woohoo,” in a wail of victory.

  A shrill whistle followed. “The kid can fly and the kid can shoot,” Joanne congratulated.

  “It was all right,” James added. “A little sloppy in spots. But there’s definitely some skill there.”

  “Cut the crap Skid. That was better than you and you know it,” Joanne teased. “If you ask me Grant’s just seem to have a knack for it.”

  “Stop swelling his head Apple,” James chided. “You did good Knight. But you still have a ways to go. Combat isn’t some kind of structured dance. Be sure to listen to what the old men on board say.”

  “They’ve been drilling adages into me since Plebe Summer,” Jeff quipped. “Captain Swanson seemed fond of an old saying. He must have used it a thousand times during tactics training.” Clearing his throat Jeff attempted a sinister rasp in imitation of his former instructor, “All plans are great until the first shot is fired. It was true over four-hundred years ago and it’s Goddamned true now. The sooner you dipshits get that the better.”

  James laughed. “Good old Swany. Nice to know he’s still scaring the crap out of Midshipmen.”

  “Oh. He never scared me. Reminded me of my Dad actually. That is if Dad were a wiry black guy with an evil glare.”

  “That’s Swany all right,” Joanne quipped. “Oh. How about this one. Ahem. The most dangerous situation you ass-hats are likely to get into, is thinking you’re better than your opponent. And I know some marines who’d be happy to beat that lesson into you!”

  Jeff joined in with Joanne and James laughing feeling a burgeoning friendship growing. Clearing his throat, though his humor was still apparent, James said, “All joking aside. Captain Swanson was right on both counts. Keep his words in mind Knight and you’ll do just fine. Now then. I think we’ve had enough fun for one day. Form up on me and let’s head home.”

  Jeff finessed his craft and checked the mission clock. Though it didn’t feel it two hours had passed since he’d been catapulted from Tungsten’s bay. Homing in on James transponder he quickly aligned his course falling into formation behind Joanne.

  “Tungsten tower,” James called. “Skid at vector zero two point zero seven. Sixteen-hundred ninety meters, on approach port landing tunnel. Advise I have two trailers.”

  “Copy Skid. We have you. Please hold until pattern is clear.”

  “Roger Tungsten. Apple, Knight, adjust course two degrees. Knight. Why don’t you come on up and lead us in.”

  “Copy Skid. Knight taking lead,” Jeff said throttling his razor up abreast of James fighter. Looking over he smiled waving a hand signal indicating he was ready to move up. James replied with his own gesture and throttled his razor back. “Tungsten tower. Knight has lead.”

  “Copy Knight. Come about two five seven for final approach.”

  Goosing the razor’s thrusters Jeff adjusted the ships trajectory. Scanning the surface of the giant carrier with his eyes he made some final adjustments. “Tungsten tower. Knight is in the pipe. Skid and Apple are in the wash. Ready for final approach.”

  “Copy Knight. We have you. Pattern is clear. Call the ball.”

  Finessing his jets Jeff spotted the red beacon arrayed above the ships port side landing tunnel. “Roger, Knight has the ball.” After a quick adjustment to his speed Jeff dove the fighter towards the tunnel. It was just wide enough to accommodate two razors with barely more than a breath between them. Driving through the opening he skimmed the surface as close as he dared. The ship shimmied and jolted to a quick and rough touchdown as rows of maglev brakes captured the craft. Barely a moment passed before James’ razor ground to a halt next to him, sparks flying from the landing skids hitting the deck.

  “Not bad for a first landing rookie,” Joanne said, her razor sliding in behind him. “We’ll make a combat pilot out of you yet.”

  “Thanks Apple. It’s kind of exhilarating.”

  Jeff’s plane lurched as docking arms extending from the side of the tunnel locked onto the fuselage. Dropping his hands into his lap, he relaxed as the fighter was ferried into waiting airlock. Gradually the whirring sound of the elevator began seeping into the cockpit as atmosphere was shunted into the airlock. A momentary jostle punctuated the retrieval process. His razor was now level again with the flight deck. The thick doors of the airlock lifted admitting the light and bustling sounds of the Tungsten’s interior. Now attached to a loading rack, the razor completed its journey into the bowels of the massive hold.

  A team of deckhands wasted no time swarming over the ship quickly popping open hatches and inspecting flaps, lines, weapons. Lifting the canopy, a smiling young crewman made short work of releasing the helmet from Jeff’s shoulders. “You’re all set Sir, welcome back,” the crewman said hoisting the bell off his head. Jeff took a deep breath intent on relishing the entire experience he’d just had. Swinging a leg over the side of the fuselage he slid down the ladder dropping to the deck. Stepping back with arms crossed, smiling in spite of himself, he gazed upon the sleek craft he so recently commanded.

  “You did good out there kid,” James said stepping up to stand next to him. His voice carried a hint of pride in its tone. “But target drones aren’t the real thing.”

  “Real thing huh?” Jeff questioned quietly sneaking a look from the corner of his eye. “And all that talk about having a lot to learn about combat. Sounded like you had some firsthand experience.” Turning Jeff raised an eyebrow cocking his head to look at James sideways. “But I thought you never saw any action Skid.”

  “What I mean is…flying an actual mission,” James said. The pause was painfully obvious. He was hiding something. And he knew he got caught. Jeff threw him a challenging stare until he relented. “All right all right,” James said lowering his voice. “But we can’t talk about it here.” Glancing quickly over his shoulder he added, “Get yourself cleaned up while I go get your cabin assignment. We can talk there.”

  CHAPTER 5:

  SECRETS

  Entering the small cabin on James’ heels Jeff briefly looked about his new quarters. Folding the small rack down from the wall he dropped his duffle on it. “Beats those communal berths that’s for sure.” It was a quaint little space, modestly furnished. A single chair sat adjacent to a small desk, a lone touchscreen monitor rising from its surface, while a narrow locker stood in the corner. Rounding out the meager comforts was a small dormitory refrigerator which James was rooting through. “No shower though.”

  “You’re not that special Lieutenant,” James chuckled. “Didn’t think you’d be such a prima donna.” Straightening he turned tossing a can to Jeff.

  “Beer?” Jeff asked turning the container in his hands.

  “One of the advantages to being over six light years from Earth.” Cracking the can open he took a sip and grimaced. “Of course it’s the cheapest and weakest shit they can find. If you want something better, there’s the Pilots Lounge. There you can enjoy the good stuff. Under the careful, if not always that mindful, eye of the libations officer.” Jeff raised an eyebrow at that flashing a sarcastic smirk. “Bartender,” James said confirming his suspicions. “It’s a bone we throw to poor scullion who gets stuck with the duty. You see, the lounge is only open to O-two or higher, which is what you are now. So we butter them up a bit with a fancy title and make sure their CO gives them a benny. In return he’s likely to look the other way on occas
ion. Or completely if you’re the right person. Just don’t overdo it.

  “One screw up will land you in the brig. Two or more and you’ll be taking the next freighter back to Earth. And it’ll be the slowest dingiest smelliest freighter the Skipper can find. And above all for God’s sake, don’t get trashed and stir up trouble. This is one of the few perks we have out here and the command staff has been kind enough to turn a blind eye on it. You do anything to change that arrangement and you’ll have a pack of angry officers looking to vent you from the nearest airlock. Don’t fuck it up.”

  “Sounds fair.” Taking a long swallow Jeff almost gagged. “You weren’t kidding,” he said coughing. “This shit’s terrible.”

  Lifting his can to toast Jeff’s James said, “Only the best for the brave souls in the space fleet.” Jeff grimaced taking another sip of the hollow flavored liquid. James flashed him a toothy grin. “It grows on you. Anyway, I’m sure you’re not particularly interested in talking about what the navy considers to be beer.”

  “I think calling this swill beer is an insult to beer,” Jeff quipped shaking his head. “But you’re right. So what—”

  James slashed a hand across his throat cutting him short. Taking the chair by the desk he reached behind the small computer terminal. A brief whiny pop followed as he pulled the power cord. Pausing he bent his head listening to the air. Jeff couldn’t hear anything. Anything of importance at least. Some commotion in the hall as crewmen went about their duties maybe. A satisfied look eventually settled on James face. Looking Jeff in the eyes he said in a low voice, “What I tell you here today cannot leave this room. You get me?”