“Sir, two in the flight have been recommended for decorations. Can they be fast-tracked so they can be presented at the graduation ceremony?” Diego asked standing more stiffly.
“Yes, Instructor Diego, they deserve that at the least. I am also going to see about Instructors having their respective rank and not just the title of their position added. Would you agree with that Gunny?”
“Yes sir,” Diego replied happily
“Gentlemen I will see myself out please remember what we have discussed is top secret and will not be discussed again even among yourselves.”
Gray Panther Training Field 9, Arizona
17 August 2128
James “Jimmy” Brewster age 92, was wondering what type of God there was in the universe to see him in the mobile infantry of all the damn places. He had managed to spend almost his entire thirty years in the US Army as a crew chief in spec ops helicopters. Now the Gray Panthers had him as a flight leader with three fire teams under him. Granted it was without a doubt the best flight in the mobile infantry. It was still a good trade he figured as the nanites had him rejuvenated to a body of a twenty year old, a twenty year old dying of heat he thought as he watched his teams maneuver with his spectrum glasses. The three, three man, teams were invisible to the naked eye when they wore their optical deflection combat suits and only looked like a slight blur if you were able to focus on one. The teams were all converging on their targets when a shuttle started to land almost on top of him. His squadron commander hopped out and pointed for him to get on the shuttle.
“First Fire team leader take charge of the exercise. Sgt Brewster with me,” the commander hollered over the sounds of the engines.
“Sgt Brewster, I just received orders for you, if you want, I will try to keep you here, and I’d hate to lose a good man like you.”
“What are the orders, sir,” Brewster asked wearily.
“No idea, they are sealed, I’m supposed to get you on the next shuttle going “out” you will then open your orders in transit.”
“Sir, going “out.” As in space?” Brewster asked puzzled.
“That’s affirmative, sergeant,” his commander replied.
“Sir, if it’s that important I wouldn’t feel right trying to turn them down.” I’m out of the God damn mobile infantry! “Like the old saying goes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” I’m free!
Arizona Space Ship Cornucopia in lunar orbit
17 August 2128
Chief William “Guns” Wright stepped out of the raider, back onto the flight bay, and once again started to smell the combination of cat piss and humid body odor. At least the raider didn’t have any strange smells. Guns had been in Navy spec ops for twenty years working small boats. Now as a Gray Panther, the Seventy nine year old was responsible for this mystery machine as her crew chief. Scratching his head he thought, At least there’s an expert from the Gray Panther Army coming up that can be responsible for this thing and I can learn from him. I wonder if I’ll have to use small words when I talk with him.
Lt. Chester Horton, age twenty two, stood in the bay looking at the raider from the distance. The huge old man exiting the raider just filled him with disgust, another “recycle,” why couldn’t it be a normal person like him. The old man was at least six feet tall and looked like he belonged on a football team. Though big, he did not see any signs of fat on the old white geezer, the shiny bald head made him think he would call him “Shiny”. Ignoring any more thoughts of the geezer, he started to take in the raider. The raider was much larger than he imagined, but then he reasoned it had to be big to hold ten fighters and two shuttles. The exterior was black but seemed to bleed rust in numerous places. Entire areas were still missing where the original weapons had been. Crates all around it no doubt held the upgraded weapons. He could see stacks of smaller boxes with their orange diamond shaped stickers denoting they contained ammunition. The front of the ship seemed to narrow almost to a point whereas the back of the ship was two stories high with the back of the ship a flat straight line from bottom to top. Most of the ship appeared to be two stories high except for the front where the top of the ship sloped down.
The old man was doing something to an exterior panel and the entire back of the ship started to retract like a garage door. Walking over to the side he could now see there were two levels of fighters, he now knew where the launch bay was. Just as he started to try and figure out what the other protrusions were on the exterior of the ship his view was blocked by one Chief William “Guns” Wright. Looking down on the little Lieutenant he smiled to himself as the short officer took a step back.
“Good morning Lieutenant may I help you?” Which really meant, Why the fuck are you so interested in with my ship? The chief asked, his hands resting on his hips, where he had a holstered automatic. The perceived threat in the greeting was not lost on the Lieutenant, as he looked at the old man before him and felt instantly intimidated.
“Good morning, Chief. I’m Lt. Chester Horton. The raider there is my ship. I’m the weapons and navigation officer." Guns tried to hide his shock at the thought of this little “Kid” being part of the crew but then remembered many lieutenants that were not that much of a problem after he had trained them.
“Welcome aboard, Lt. Horton. Would you like me to show you to your berthing area? Or would you prefer a tour of the ship?” Guns asked.
“How about taking me to my berth so I can drop my bags, then you can continue on with your duties as I explore,” Horton replied as he dropped his two huge sea bags. Turning towards the ship Guns started walking at a brisk clip as Horton looked at the chiefs rapidly disappearing back, in shock then grabbed his bags and ran to catch up with the chief. He caught up as the chief entered through the hatchway then followed him, noticing how narrow the passageway was as he kept rubbing up against the bulkhead with his bags. The chief stopped in front of a small circular hatch and opened it for him. Looking in, he saw a gray metal shelf protruding from one bulkhead, on the other side was a pair of old gray metal lockers with a tiny desk between them. The area was softly illuminated from a light source in the overhead.
“Here’s your new home lieutenant. You can get bedding from the quartermasters assigned to the Arizona Space Ship Cornucopia as well as any other supplies you need. Good day, sir.” Guns seemed to have disappeared before his eyes as he stood in shock at what he would have for quarters. Throwing his bags through the hatch, he was only then able to fit into the cabin. Quickly loading the first locker, he barely got the rest of his clothing in the second wall locker when an enlisted man rapped at his hatch.
“Sir, we were told to bring these boxes to you from supply. They contain your flight gear and astronavigation kit. Would you like us to bring them to you or leave them here in the passageway?”
“Just leave them out there. Does that include my——” he realized he was again alone and in a quandary as he could not begin to fit even one box into the cramp quarters. Frustrated he accepted defeat and went to get help from the chief.
Gray Panther Space Academy, Arizona
18 August 2128
Andrews stood in disbelief with the rest of his flight as they were briefed. They were going to be the first flight to be trained on space fighters. The fighter came across like something out of the 1950's air force arsenal. The fighter looked like a dart with tiny wings on each side and a small tail section. Centered under the nose was a 40mm cannon, on each wing a beamer was installed. The fuselage of the fighter rested on flat skis leaving only a space of six inches to the deck. The entrance to the fighter was by raising the canopy. The flight deck was compact, the forward control panel housed many displays as well as a HUD. The right panel housed weapons status and environmental controls. The left panel housed a navigation panel and mission computer. The seat looked like a recliner that had been extended back. Numerous leads were out and unconnected laying across the seat.
“Ladies and gentlemen we have a life support technician
who will go over the flight equipment and connections to the flight deck. Go ahead Technical Sergeant Willis.”
“I am TSgt Willis. Today I will be going over the flight suit the connectors and leads to the fighter and how to egress the fighter. The flight suit has four connectors that connect to the seat inertial reels one on each side of the waist and one behind each shoulder. Their purpose is to keep you safely connected to the seat in the event of violent maneuvers or if you need to eject. The other leads are for environmental so you can adjust the temperature by the air blowing into the suit. There is a lead for liquid waste you need to connect to your person. Ladies I am sorry there is nothing we have for you at this time.” Light nervous laughter came from the flight as he continued. “The power lead will power the computer on the left sleeve of the suit as well as connect the communications. The helmet connects to the flight suit neck by pulling it down from the nine o’clock position then rotating it to the twelve o’clock position until it locks in. Once the helmet is connected the suit powers the virtual view you will have from there. When you turn your head in the helmet, the view in front of your face instantly changes it also works with the head up display and the targeting system. It is safer to have a virtual visor than a real one with the expected hazards of space combat. The flight gloves go over the sleeves of the suit then retain their position until after power is removed.
"The fighter itself provides protection from g-forces, however it only starts at 7 g’s so you will be more punished than driving a shuttle. There are three ways to egress the fighter. If you are on the ground and have time to get out normally you select switch 3 on your right panel, this will raise the canopy, and you may then disconnect the four connectors to the seat and then disconnect each of the leads to your suit and then egress. Option 2, if you need to get out of the fighter in a hurry on the ground, there is a covered switch on the left arm console. Open it and flick the switch. The canopy will immediately open and the four connectors to your suit will disconnect from the seat. You may then egress the fighter, all leads connected to your suit only need a 4-pound pull force to quick disconnect. Power will stay on in your helmet up to an hour once you disconnect from the seat. The third option to egress is to pull the yellow handle on the right arm of the seat. This will retract the inertial reels pulling you to the proper body alignment with the seat while at the same time launching the entire flight deck as an encapsulated system away from the ship.
"The on-board computer will determine what mode the encapsulated portion will deploy. Mode 1 is in the gravity well of a planet. The thrusters on the capsule will maneuver until the parachute deploys at a safe altitude. Mode 2 is in space, free of any gravity wells. Minor thruster use is available. Mode 3 the capsule deploys in space free of gravity. If the capsule detects any leaks or damage to the capsule the capsule will immediately seal the entire flight deck with foam filling and then turn on the stasis field generator that will literally stop everything in the flight deck until it either runs out of juice or the canopy is opened. Additionally there is a mode select you must select for every flight either combat or peace. The default setting is combat, in this mode your capsule will not engage the tracking beacon, in peacetime mode, the capsule will transmit your location and vitals every hour as long as there is power. I will go over all of this again with each of you individually as I fit your equipment to you.”
The speaker box on the wall boomed, “Attention cadets, I am Grub, the central AI for the Gray Panthers. As there are no human experts on this fighter I will be giving each of you individual training as I see you need it or when you have any questions not answered by the tablets you already have. This fighter was originally of Libra design. The technology of the fighter is inferior in regards to life support, the computer system, and quality of manufacture. The upgraded weapons system is superior to the original weapons. The engine is adequate, though not of Flem design as most ships and ship systems throughout the galaxy are. Another improvement is a force field generator, usually a fighter like this relies strictly on maneuver and speed, this will give you an edge. You may now continue your familiarization with your flight equipment. If it doesn’t fit well you will have injuries, you could also die. TSgt Willis you may proceed with the fittings; I recommend you have the cadets assist so they may have more hands on training.”
Arizona Space Ship Cornucopia in lunar orbit
18 August 2128
Brewster was tired nursing a major headache and had not even made it to his ship yet. The Shuttle from earth had delivered him to the Arizona Space Ship Phoenix and he spent almost a day trying to catch a shuttle to the Arizona Space Ship Cornucopia. Once onboard he got lost a half dozen times trying to find the hangar area. The stench of cat piss and unwashed bodies only added to his headache. The hangar made him feel slightly more at home even if everything was foreign. It was the same song only a different dance, his hopes started to improve. The maintenance and sense of urgency around the forty or so assorted ships was just right.
Chief Wright saw the Sgt looking around like a tourist and knew at that moment he was watching the “expert” he was expecting. The Sgt was still carrying his field gear including his beamer, but no bags. He was definitely a recycle, as tall as himself and with no hair on his head. He looked like he was used to carrying himself. Guns walked up to the sergeant.
“Are you my new crew chief for the Arizona Space Ship Beater?” Guns asked.
“That’s an affirmative. What is the Arizona Space Ship Beater?” Brewster asked. Guns turned and pointed to the raider. “That is the Beater, any experience with them?”
“Only experience is working as crew chief on birds that beat the air into submission, 160 SOAR thirty years.” Guns just listened to him then had to laugh.
“Twenty years Naval Special Warfare Combatant-Craft Crewman working small boats. Guess the Gray Panthers are as good as Uncle Sam for finding the right peg for the right hole,” Guns laughingly said.
“Well from the job description in the orders, it’s a good fit. Show me to my new home and what we have ahead of us,” Brewster suggested. He walked up to the ship. The fact that it was old and rusty didn't faze him. Once inside, going down the passageway the narrowness became too evident. Trying to get by a pile of boxes, Guns pointed towards a small open hatch, “Officer Country, we have a twenty two year old lieutenant.”
Looking through the hatchway, Brewster only commented, “Hope he’s small.” The comment set both NCOs off in a loud round of laughter.
“OK, here’s the port weapons station, your new home.” The cabin was twenty foot by twenty foot. The entire exterior wall was a window. A large weapons console on one side of the cabin faced the window. The rest of the room was filled with a bunk and huge built in wall lockers. “I made the command decision that you should be immediately available if we are attacked. If you prefer there’s a cabin next to the lieutenant, just not as big as his. I’m in the starboard weapons station.”
“Looks like you did us right chief. Now what do I call you and which of us is senior?” Brewster asked, warming up to the Navy puke.
“Call me “Guns”, for what it’s worth you can be in charge until the officers get onboard and start mucking things up. What do you answer to?”
“Just call me Jimmy. There any food on this thing? I always did like Navy chow.”
“Prepare to be disappointed. Just stow your gear and we’ll head for the ward room, maybe we’ll see the lieutenant.” Entering the ward room a strange rancid smell was coming from the food processor. Opening the door to the small unit there was a plate with something that looked like brown pudding. “You hungry Jimmy?”
“You are a sick fuck, Guns. What is that?”
“This stuff just shows up. If you tell it what you want, it will make it for you. Call it chef.”
“Chef, I would like a quarter pound of french fries please.”
Noises started to come from the food processor then there was a “Ding.” Opening the door to the
unit a pile of white pudding was on a plate. Removing the plate Jimmy smelled the concoction and almost dropped the plate. “Well there’s still time to stock up on field rats and condiments I guess.”
“Don’t sweat it, Jimmy. I found some boxes of uniforms and made a deal with a Master Chief on the Arizona Space Ship Nike. They have human modified food processors. He is sending a detail over to install it today. So be sure everything is secured when they come on board or they’ll steal us blind.”
“Should be interesting to see how it fares with whatever we have for an electrical system.”
“That’s why you always hire a professional! Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the ship.”
Lt. Commander Kyle Johnson was personally supervising the simulator being off loaded in the bay of the Arizona Space Ship Cornucopia. After 5 days he decided it more important to have it near the real thing so he could make comparisons and learn the real ship. The chief of the boat was helping him as the ships commander expressed an interest in there being no problems. Seeing the raider for the first time Kyle suddenly heard, “Oh gawd help us we’re all doomed.” Looking over to see who made the comment Guns turned, came to attention and saluted. “Looks like we're not done with each other yet sir.”
“Damn it’s good to see you, Chief. What’s your assessment of the situation,” Kyle asked jovially.
“I believe we may have a chance to survive if we start running now sir,” Guns replied seriously.
“Explain, Guns,” Kyle replied as he started to tense.
“Sir, I’ve been here almost three days and haven’t learned a damn thing other than the food processor is shit. Haven’t gotten shit for help other than the team that removed the weapons that then disappeared. Haven’t got squat for documentation or manuals. Our other crew chief is Army with only helo experience, looking to me for guidance. We also got our weapons/nav officer. I was going to take a moment and teach the tyke about the birds and bees. Seeing you sir, has given me my first thought we may survive. Rant off sir.”
Gray Panthers: Earths Revenge Page 8