by SF Edwards
“Just don’t spread it around. If it leads back to me I don’t want to think about what’ll happen.”
“Believe me, I won’t. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” she replied and smiled.
His face lit up in response and that just made her smile more in the awkward silence. He’s just looking any excuse to keep talking right now.
“Your harness is a little crooked,” he commented.
She looked down and sure enough, he was right. She considered her body one of her gifts and her curse. Not being one of the small bosomed women at the academy, she had some difficulty getting her gear to fit sometimes.
“Can I help you with it?”
She nodded.
She wanted more than that as she felt his strong hands grip the harness that held the life-support pack on her chest. He centered the pack as best he could by sliding it up her chest a little in the process before synching it back down.
“That should do it,” he responded.
She bit her lips as his hand dropped down her sides and he adjusted the straps of the emergency survival pack around her midsection. It felt good having his hands on her. She sucked on her lower lip in anticipation. She wanted those hands to do more than adjust her gear. She wanted him to scoop her up and run off.
“Looks good but your suit…”
“I know I’ve lost about half a bar since I arrived and now the skin suit doesn’t fit right. I have to requisition a new one or get it adjusted. Stupid thing is supposed to adjust itself, but it must be defective.”
“I’ve heard a few cadets have similar problems. Mine too actually. This stuff helps,” he said pulling out a small tube. “It’s expanding clay that you put...”
She found his inability to find a diplomatic way to describe how to use the clay cute.
“You pack it into voids, like mine,” he said lifting his arm. “It doesn’t fit in my armpit correctly so I pack it with the clay and it fills the void with no ill-effect. Seri told us that she packs them under her breasts to keep them from, well you know.”
“OK. I understand,” she said taking the tube. “How much do I use?”
“You slide out a disk and it expands, then all you do is pack it in. I only have to use about half a disk so you’ll probably need.”
She suppressed a smile when he looked down at her breasts then back at her face, flushed.
“Um, at least a full disk, you might need a little more depending on…”
She gave him a quick peck on the lips to shut him up and patted him on the butt. “Any back there?”
“No they got that part right at least on mine.”
“Good, but I have to go,” she said catching a glimpse of her squadron leader waving her over. She bounded off as Blazer watched her go. She snuck a look back when she landed and winked back at him. He just stood there admiring how her suit hugged her contours before he turned and headed towards the lift.
Marda admired how it was obvious that he didn’t have any clay packed on his backside. So entranced was she that she walked right into her squadron leader. The big Chret looked down at her with a bit of annoyance then over at Blazer and down again at her.
“Keep your eyes on the target, Sciminder,” he commented with a grin.
She looked back at Blazer then back at her leader. “Which one?”
Her leader rested a hand on her shoulder then pointed at her trainer. “The target of the cycle is that trainer and this mission.”
She almost jumped in anticipation as she stared at her trainer. “Oh believe me. I know. Watch your right meter.”
He nodded. “Though, after your display, they may change the objective. Try not to be so public next time,” he commented with a laugh.
UCSB DATE: 1000.215
Xoth System, Alpha Station, Probe Control Bay
Captain Delgado and his aide sat in silence at the end of Admiral Jackson’s personal cab as the Admiral discussed something with his own aide. Captain Delgado couldn’t believe how the Admiral treated them. This was his day after all, the day when his project would come to fruition. The car soon descended through the main axis of the giant Mega-Station, the first of the seven great symbols of the Galactic Federation’s might. He looked out the windows as they passed through the massive hangar that made up the main body of the station with its forty-mile-long arms meeting at the midpoint.
He caught the Admiral’s smile when he looked down the hangar arms; thinking it was for him. Disappointment swelled when the Admiral turned to his aide. “How long until that Barker is complete?” he asked pointing at the lights of construction torches in the distance.
Captain Delgado turned to look at the massive Barker class Super Carrier in its construction cradle, transports and work tugs floating around it. He sighed. He’d never had a chance to serve on one of those fine ships, might never if his project didn’t pan out, and felt a knot form in his stomach. For the first time, he felt doubt about his plan.
“We’re a month behind schedule,” the admiral’s aide replied. “The mining ships had an accident in the asteroid belt yesterday. But the fighter production is running at full rate, she’ll have all her craft ready to go well before then.”
Captain Delgado suppressed a sigh. The shortsighted fool will shift the priority away from the carrier’s fighters to the ship itself. What good is a carrier without its fighters? The Admiral was always the same: he would give priority to other projects instead of those from the intelligence services. It disgusted Captain Delgado: without the intelligence men like him provided; fools like Admiral Jackson couldn’t operate. They still cast us aside, look us over.
“Shift resources from fighter production to the carrier itself. We can make up the fighter numbers later.” His aide nodded and made a change on his data pad. The view disappeared a moment later as the elevator descended into the lower half of the station.
Captain Delgado sighed. They were close to his work center now. The car soon came to a halt outside the probe control bay and Captain Delgado bolted from the cab, his aide behind him. He entered the chamber and headed straight to his command station. The Admiral followed him in a moment later without preamble and headed straight for the main observation window. He knew that view made the Admiral feel uncomfortable. From his seat in the high towers atop the station, he looked down upon it. The view here must feel upside down to him by comparison.
After a moment, the Admiral looked over the darkened room and met Captain Delgado’s eyes. Computer monitors glowed in the darkness. Their dim amber screens lit the faces of the crewmen as they programmed key coordinates into the navigation cores of their probes. The Admiral motioned for him to approach, to finally speak to him, and after giving his aide one last instruction, he rushed over.
The Admiral turned to look at a full-scale mockup of one of the thousands of probes they were preparing to launch. “Tell me this will work Captain. The Heartbreakers are not known for their reliability,” he said, running a hand along the metal outer cylinder of the probe.
“Sir, the CAD-1 has located more Confederation ships and bases then any of the later CAD models,” Captain Delgado asserted. Why must he use that horrid nickname that clings to these? The alphanumeric designation is far preferable.
“Captain, that’s only because it’s been in service for nearly a hundred years now. We were lucky to recover even this many of the probes for your plan,” the Admiral explained, his distaste for the intelligence captain and his plan not quite masked in his voice. “I’m sure you know how hard they are to find once they’re shut down. If it weren’t for the Hazardous and Toxic Materials Disposal Act of 2502 there wouldn’t be any left,” he said with a soft chuff. “I was tempted myself as a young man to blast one of the old Cheap as Dirt's out of space instead of recovering it.”
Captain Delgado forced himself to remain civil and looked at the probe. He felt like a proud parent when he stared at the mockup. True, the CAD-1 was obsolete before the Galactic Federation first deploye
d it, but that was the genius of my plan. No one gives them a second thought anymore.
“Sir, recent upgrades and intelligence reports will allow the Continuously Assessing Detector to perform its new mission flawlessly,” the captain corrected the Admiral concerning the device’s official designation. “And, its age will also help, no one who happens upon it will give it much thought, some may even attempt to bring them in for salvage, which will help us even more,” Captain Delgado replied, puffing out his chest and patting a new module attached to the exterior of the somewhat pitted skin of the unit. “I am confident that the operation will locate us one of UCSB’s major hidden bases or stations, and possibly even an academy.”
“You had best hope so, for the sake of your career,” the Admiral replied and turned to the giant holographic map of the nearby galaxy, the numerous star systems the probes were destined to explore highlighted. “If we find one of the UCSB’s hidden strike bases or academies ripe for the plucking, it will be a major blow to them. How long do you anticipate it will take to find such a facility?” he asked, skepticism in his voice.
No other plan attempted thus far had located any of the Confederation’s staging posts outside of their major systems. It had been a black eye to the intelligence corps and a huge blow to the Galactic Federation war effort for decades. They knew, with the exception of the home world academies, that the rest were hidden in undisclosed star systems. Worse, no major Confed strike had emerged from the fleet ports they’d had under covert observation. Then there was the fact that the Federation still did not know the exact location of the confederation capital. The location of that planet and system was one of the Confederation’s most guarded secrets.
“With our data and the number of probes that we’ll be launching, and with a bit of luck, I anticipate that we will have a target located within six months.”
“Good,” the Admiral replied as a Phantom 4 fighter streaked past the window. “How soon until you can launch?” he asked, his attention focused on the fighter as it disappeared into the distance to land.
Captain Delgado checked a nearby terminal and watched the status light on the last probe turn green in readiness. He felt his cheeks flush and he puffed out his chest. “You need only give the order.”
“Then let’s do this.”
The chamber burst into a beehive of activity as technicians set to work making final checks and began the long anticipated countdown sequence for launching the probes. Captain Delgado rushed to the window and watched as one by one the probes rocketed from each arm of the massive station’s defensive torpedo launchers. He watched as every five seconds another probe deployed, their drive glows momentarily lighting up the station’s exterior. Each new glint of light emerging from the station raced off towards the nearby jump point like shooting stars, winking out as they ventured too far away to see. Captain Delgado lost count as more points of light from each probe’s engine glow joined the starscape. He barely noticed as they winked upon entering the jump point.
He turned to watch a meter on the wall displaying the percent launched. It will take over twenty-four hours to launch all these probes, I won’t be sleeping tonight. Stepping away from the window, Captain Delgado felt the Admiral pat him on the back before he walked for the hatch.
“Sir, we will inform you once all the probes have been launched,” Captain Delgado remarked.
“That will be fine, Captain,” the Admiral replied. “But more importantly, I want to know when we find a target.”
“The minute we receive a transmission you’ll know,” he said to the Admiral as he turned to leave.
Captain Delgado’s aide ran up to him with a data pad. “That went well, sir. Do you think the Admiral is convinced now?”
“No, not yet, but once we have a target he will be. We’ll show him, just you watch. Then we’ll lead the assault, an intelligence officer taking a Confed Academy… imagine that.”
UCSB DATE: 1000.228
Star System: Classified, UCSBA-13, Monstero Nach 03
Nervous energy filled Blazer as he slipstreamed towards his mission objective this sortie. “Missing an important class?” Temblin asked through the screen.
Blazer nodded. “Sort of. We have a guest lecturer in my aerodynamics class. I have a friend recording it for me.”
“Good thinking. Anything else bugging you?”
Blazer looked out the canopy at the darkness beyond. They were moving so fast that everything red-shifted out of his ability to see. “Just an article I read on the main cadet stitch about the latest washouts.” Every cycle another article about cadets washing out would appear on the intraweave, some were voluntary and others were forcibly ejected from the program.
Blazer’s instructor nodded. “The guy who pranged his fighter when he landed last cycle?”
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t get it. Sure he snapped his nose gear but that wouldn’t have gotten him even a decle under Chief Flind. Still, he turned in his voluntary washout form anyway.”
“Some people just can’t hack it. You heard about the Drashig lady last decle? She went to weapon’s training, took one shot with her sidearm, and just walked away.”
“I heard about her. She said it had something to do with her entry kill; too much guilt. Marda said she had a Drashig medical corps cadet in her class two cycles ago get sick studying another race’s anatomy and file their 618-G.”
“Some cadets simply can’t handle it, Blazer. Check the stats. Most washouts are based on the schedule. It’s crazy. But if you can’t handle the schedule stress than, yeah, get the Sheol out.”
Blazer considered that. Are people really that inflexible to the schedule? Sure we had our issues with it, but we all adapted. I wonder how many were dirtsiders. He shook the thought off. “I’m just glad that our unit is holding up so well. We haven’t had any washout yet.”
“It’s all about adaptation, you know? Speaking of adaptation, how’s it going with the girlfriend?” Temblin asked with a grin.
Blazer smiled. “Good. We don’t get to spend too much time together but we make the most of it. Sometimes it’s just taking dusk walks together.” Blazer quietened for a moment and his instructor waved for him to continue. They still had plenty of time before reaching their objective.
“Arion’s been on me about her. He says she’s causing me to lose focus. She isn’t. She anchors me. She reminds me of what’s most important.” Blazer’s mind drifted to her. Her smile, her laugh and even her eyes, and how she showed in little ways how much she cared, a reminder of what he was fighting for.
Even their study sessions were less about studying now. They made other excuses to see each other. The time they spent together was always special. While he wanted to do nothing more some cycles than to romance her, the academy did not exactly provide much for a young couple seeking a romantic backdrop.
“Maybe a picnic,” Blazer commented to himself.
Temblin raised an eyebrow “Sorry. You’re not my type.”
They both laughed.
“Seriously though, let’s get focused. The Proving Grounds are no joke.”
Blazer nodded, still smiling. This was their third flight this decle and each one kept ramping up in intensity. It wasn’t about take-offs and landings anymore or simple navigational courses. Now they had to face evasion courses and their last sortie had them venture out of the asteroid shell and into slipstream for the first time.
“Hey how did that tribunal come out?” Blazer asked.
“Not so hot,” his instructor replied, his smile gone.
Two cycles earlier, the various squadrons slipstreamed out to the local gas giant, Optimus Teg. They then navigated amongst its quartet of moons, taking a gravitational slingshot around the largest one back home. For Blazer the flight was long and boring, but two cadets from Squadron Ten showed them all just how dangerous slipstream travel could be.
“Seriously how the Sheol do you end up halfway across the system before drive shutdown?”
Bl
azer shook his head and stared at the emergency slipstream cancelation key on the console. “So what was the ruling?”
“The two instructors are going to lose their IP status and take some remedial courses. One of the newbs earned himself a discharge,” Temblin informed him.
Sobered by that thought, Blazer set his mind on the task ahead. He remembered what Joda had briefed the cycle before about this extremely important mission. The fighter began to slow and the universe began to come back into focus as the countdown timer approached zero and Blazer adjusted himself in his seat. The shattered remains of a moon appeared and Blazer let out a low whistle. The moon expanded out of nothingness to a flattened blob before taking its true shape. The simulators hadn’t prepared him for the truth about the place. “Dag!”
“Dag is right. That craggy chunk of rock ahead of you is riddled with canyons, fissures and craters. It’s a navigational nightmare for anyone flying around it at low levels.”
Blazer nodded as he noticed several of those canyons and fissures where they joined only to split again as they circumnavigated the rock.
“You’ll get to know the Proving Grounds well from here on out and make no mistake there are some serious hazards in there. Not all of which are natural.”
Blazer felt a momentary bump when his fighter dropped out of slipstream only a few thousand metra above the broken landscape. He scanned the sky around him and found his wingmen. Twisting his controls about, he headed for the rendezvous point. During their last mission, they had slipstreamed together, flying close enough to see each other in their cockpits. The automatic safeties prevented them from coming any closer. In the wake of the incident, the instructor cadets made doubly sure that no navigational or control error would result in a collision. They made their trainees program different courses and exit points for their journey.