by A. K. DuBoff
“Would you like me to go with you?” Jason asked.
Wil considered it for a moment; having backup would be beneficial for a number of reasons. However, he recognized that Jason was antsy, and that wasn’t the right mindset to bring into any discussion with the contemplative Aesir. “I can handle this one on my own. Thank you, though. It’s not that you’re unwelcome there. Just—”
“I get it, it’s okay.” A little bit of a sigh slipped out.
I understand his frustration. Wil studied him. “We’ve had the unknown hanging over our heads for a long time now. It’s wearing on me, too.”
“Why have the Erebus been so quiet? It doesn’t make sense. And now Monsari is taking shots at you?”
“We don’t know for sure that Monsari sanctioned that action,” Wil said, though he suspected the family was behind it.
Jason crossed his arms. “Something is brewing, Dad. I can feel it.”
“The Empire was thrown for a loop when the Erebus showed up. People have withdrawn to regroup and figure out how to proceed after such a major shift.”
“I’m worried that our preparations won’t be enough.”
“You’ve been doing great work,” Wil assured him. “Stay the course.”
“I’m just anxious for the waiting to be over and to get to the action.”
“Me too. I have a feeling that time is coming soon.”
“And then we’ll probably reminisce about this calm back in the good ol’ days, huh?” Jason chuckled.
“The grass is always greener somewhere… or something like that.” He gave him a wan smile.
“Good luck with the Aesir.”
“I’ll check in when I return.”
“See you then.”
Wil continued toward the central elevator, tablet in hand. Jason’s right—it has been too quiet. I wonder if that’s what Dahl really wants to talk about?
— — —
The TSS was facing both civil and transdimensional threats, and Jason had to do everything he could to help them prepare.
In particular, his weaponized telekinesis students would be an important part of the TSS’ response. They were nearing the final stages of their training, and he’d been waiting for the right moment to begin the next phase of their education.
If I don’t get them ready now, it might be too late, he realized.
He checked the time; it was already too close to the scheduled class time to change the venue. After a quick stop by his quarters to grab his flight suit, he took the central elevator down to Level 11, where he proceeded to the large training room in which the telekinesis class was typically held. Standing on the padded mats in the center of the cavernous room, he stretched his back while he waited for the students; based on his protesting muscles, he’d been spending too much time at his desk recently.
In their usual fashion, the Junior Agent trainees began forming a semicircle around Jason as they arrived. They took the pre-class time to stretch in anticipation of the activity to come.
Limbering up was never a bad thing, but they wouldn’t be engaging in one of their usual workouts today.
“It’s time to change things up,” Jason announced once the final student was present.
The Junior Agents exchanged intrigued glances with one another.
“Remember a few months ago when we toured the Conquest?” he asked, and they nodded. “Well, those talks about using bioelectronic interfaces to control weapons are about to come into practice. From now on out, no more floor exercises. We’ll be training with tools to focus your telekinetic strength through other weapons.” When they brightened further, Jason confirmed their unspoken question, “Yes, that means we’re moving on to training in the IT-1s.”
The Junior Agents stopped short of outright cheers, though their excitement was palpable. It pleased Jason to see them embrace the milestone; they’d worked hard for years to get to this point. Nonetheless, with the transition came a new level of responsibility.
Only a small number of Agents-to-be would ever embark on a training path like they were about to pursue. Craft like the IT-1 fighters were capable of feats beyond conventional armaments, making them both deadly and precise. Since the focused telekinetic assaults could cut through standard shielding, they were the single most effective offensive weapon in the TSS’ expansive arsenal.
To train someone in the use of such a device meant showing a trainee the destructive side of their Gifts. Not everyone had the temperament to handle that kind of power—some found it to be too much responsibility, and others enjoyed it a little too much. Jason and his fellow instructors had the important job of identifying the students who were up to the challenge and weren’t likely to abuse their power.
This particular cohort of Junior Agents had already been through significant tests of both skill and character, so Jason had no doubt about their suitability to the task at hand. Their present excitement was well-earned, but the next phase of their training was serious business and not to be taken lightly. His first lessons would be about reverence and discipline; that would set the tone for everything to come.
Jason held up his hand for the students to quiet down. “Since our training will be out in the black, I’d like to take today to refresh your skills in the simulators.”
It was no secret among those who’d worked with him that he loved flying. This next phase of student training would combine two of his favorite things: piloting and advanced telekinetic feats. He’d been looking forward to it for months as the students approached the necessary skill level.
“As in, today?” Jimmy asked.
Jason motioned to where he’d placed his flight suit on the floor. “Yes. Though I was a flight instructor for some of you, I want to see everyone in action before we’re in the real thing.”
Paula grinned. “All right! I was wondering when we might get to put these new skills to the test.”
“I hope you never need to use these abilities in the field, honestly. We train because we must always be prepared. However, as Agents, our goal is never battle. Whenever diplomacy is a viable option, it is—and will always be—the preferred route.”
“Isn’t force a more expeditious resolution in many cases?” Adam asked.
“Of course. But our power means that we must take extra care. We can use that strength against a formidable enemy, but where do we draw the line on who’s threatening enough to warrant that action? It’s a slippery slope. So, only after all other paths are exhausted do we move on to the use of force.”
The students nodded their understanding.
With the moral groundwork laid for the lesson, Jason sent his students to get their flight suits and instructed them to reconvene on Level 2 in one of the training bays.
Jason went straight to the designated simulator room to configure the system for the lesson. He could recycle one of the scenarios from his advanced combat flight course, so the last-minute curriculum change for the day’s lesson wouldn’t pose an issue.
In the training room, twenty-one pods were arranged around the perimeter of the space, each a matte black oval hinged like a clamshell. On the right side closest to the door, the instructor pod was marked with a blue stripe to indicate its additional functionality. After donning his own flight suit, Jason got situated inside.
The pod’s interior mimicked an actual fighter, complete with seat restraints, physical controls, and all the imaging augmentations a pilot would experience while flying the real thing. This particular training room was configured to simulate IT-1 fighters at the moment, though minor interior modifications could adjust the pods to represent a variety of craft. The critical feature was how the pods emulated movement, which varied based on the particular vessel.
Having spent significant time in the simulators as well as flying out in the black with students, Jason could pick up on what made a good pilot. This test would be enough to confirm that the students were flight-ready, but their real work wouldn’t begin until they experienced the a
mplified power of an ateron-buffered telekinetic weapon for the first time.
Jason previewed a training course on the front screen of his pod while the students arrived and refamiliarized themselves with the flight controls. Once everyone was logged in as ‘ready’ on Jason’s HUD, he initialized the immersive experience in his own pod.
It sealed, and the front screen transitioned to a breathtakingly realistic portrayal of a starscape. The holographic overlay on the control panel sprang to life, casting a cool blue glow in the replica cockpit.
While the main display perfectly imitated the flight interface for an IT-1 fighter, the augmented features of Jason’s instructor pod included a representation of each student craft so he could track their performance. Selecting an individual craft brought detailed stats for an in-depth analysis. He’d go over those details later; for now, his primary concern was making sure the students wouldn’t harm themselves or others on a real training run.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Jason announced over the general comm channel. “You’ve all passed the intro courses, so I’m not going to go easy on you. The training we’re about to do is about life and death situations—no sense dancing around it. If you can’t handle it, you’re out.
“Every one of you is going to make a great Agent, and the TSS has need for a lot of different skill sets. While I hope all of you take to these new techniques, some of you might not make the cut, and others might opt out. That’s okay.
“This will be hard, because reality is foking brutal. No passes. No second chances. If you have what it takes, I will mold you into the best combat pilot I can. Now, we’re going to dive right in.”
Jason loaded the training course he’d queued up and previewed. It was a challenging scenario from an advanced combat flight course a couple of semesters back. Even skilled pilots could get tripped up with aspects of the mock mission, so it would make for a rigorous test of the students’ skills.
“Once we start training out in the void, we’ll be practicing with the TK weapons. For this engagement, you’ll be using the standard armaments. Your mission is to rescue the friendly craft that has been seized by the enemy warship. Minimize casualties. Good luck.”
He started the scenario.
The onscreen starscape momentarily warped as the enemy craft loaded into the environment. A large warship popped into the distance, surrounded by a sea of enemy fighter craft—greatly outnumbering the twenty TSS vessels.
“Fok! Here we go,” Lori said over the comm.
“Squad groups,” Paula instructed.
Jason smiled to himself. All right, nice start.
He’d intentionally left out a command structure in his overview of the mission, wanting to see if they’d revert to the squad groups they’d most recently followed during training. For lack of contrary instruction, that should have been the default—and he was pleased to see it was.
The student craft broke into five groups of four, which curved away to take different approach vectors toward the enemy warship. Each squad had an assigned leader, and they’d need to coordinate their actions to be successful.
Jason tracked several conversations as the students switched over to separate comm channels for their squad, keeping the general channel open for inter-squad communications. The overlapping chatter from the different groups shared the consensus that they were at an extreme disadvantage in the scenario.
All by design. He sat back and watched the orchestrated chaos unfold.
In a real combat situation, the squads would report to a single individual. This scenario was designed to simulate conditions when the lead craft was disabled, leaving the different squads without their hub. In theory, each individual pilot was capable of taking over that coordinating command role; they were all soon-to-be Agents, after all. Jason wanted to see who among them would step up as the clear leaders.
The other critical aspect of the setup was the difficulty of the mission itself. The leader’s craft had been seized by the enemy vessel and was being held in a grapple. This precluded any kind of barrage since the attack was likely to harm the friendly vessel. Instead, the TSS fighters needed to make targeted strikes in order to free their leader—all while fending off attacks from enemy fighters.
“Shite, we need to thin out these gnats before anything else,” Paula said on the general comm, having taken command of B Squad. She used the common term to indicate enemy fighters.
“Target the launch tube so they can’t get out reinforcements,” Merith, the A Squad leader, instructed.
“C Squad is on it,” Jon, the C Squad leader, acknowledged.
“Need to disable the jump drive, too,” D Squad’s leader, Cam, said.
“Go,” Merith ordered. “B and E Squads, clear the path. A Squad, let’s take out those turrets.”
As the fighters dove into combat, the communications switched over primarily to the telepathic bioelectronic relays, offering faster coordination than spoken words.
Jason fell into the fluid rhythm of their exchanges, allowing the members of each squad to work as one while the group as a whole rallied against the superior enemy firepower. It was a dance of the most exquisite choreography—equal parts elegant and deadly.
The initial attacks went off as planned. C Squad threaded their way between enemy fighters to make a precision strike on the warship’s launch tubes, hitting the port and then starboard access points. At the aft, D Squad sent several well-placed plasma blasts to damage the jump drive’s prongs, preventing the ship from being able to form a stable spatial distortion to jump away from the engagement.
Meanwhile, Squad A was trying to get clear shots on the various railgun turrets and beam-weapon assemblies positioned on all sides of the warship. The IT-1’s shields could withstand hits for short durations, but the constant fire from the enemy fighters would overwhelm them if they didn’t get relief.
“There’re too many of them!” Jimmy said over the private C Squad telepathic link.
“Going in! Cover me.” His squadmate, Ellie, directed her craft toward a cluster of enemy fighters.
Hostile fire shifted focus to Ellie’s craft as she broke away from the rest of the squad, making a desperate run toward their target.
Warnings flashed on Jason’s screen, mirroring the alerts on Ellie’s HUD. Her shields were failing. There was no escape path.
“Fok, they’re all over me!” she exclaimed.
“We’ll…” Jimmy started to offer, but it was clear there wasn’t time to do anything.
Ellie’s fighter was going down no matter what they did. She had a split second to decide if the enemy was just going to take her out, or if she was going to take a sizable chunk of hostile ships with her.
She activated the missile auto-targeting and released everything she had, sending a fan of ordnance to chase the speeding enemy fighters. As the missiles began clearing the path, she locked in a collision-course toward the main rail gun on the warship. She ejected.
The IT-1 fighter barreled toward the warship, gaining speed as it burned at full. It drew the enemy fire, shot to dust well before reaching its target.
Ellie was completely exposed in her ejected cockpit, careening through the battlefield. Ejecting was the smart move—better than the guarantee of getting blown up along with the fighter. It didn’t change her fate.
“Shite,” Jimmy swore on the private squad channel.
“We have our opening. Go!” Jon ordered C Squad.
Staying focused on the objective after losing someone was difficult. Jason was pleased to see them making the most of Ellie’s sacrifice. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but wonder if she would have approached things differently if they’d been in a real engagement rather than a simulation.
The students continued their desperate run. Despite Ellie’s ship having taken out half a dozen enemy craft in the course of its demise, they were still outnumbered.
The other squads had made a dent and disabled aspects of the warship’s functionality, yet it w
as too large and too powerful to have been incapacitated completely. The combination of enemy fighters and the warship’s onboard armaments proved too much.
A second student fighter was destroyed.
Then a third.
In a reckless move to gain the advantage, B Squad made a coordinated strike on the enemy fighters protecting the TSS lead ship held in the grapple against the warship’s belly.
The well-intentioned strike decimated the targets—and send the wreckage spiraling on a collision course with the hostage ship.
Rapid decompressions sent momentary plumes from the TSS ship as the debris struck. It wasn’t destroyed, but close enough.
Jason terminated the scenario.
The front screen in the training pod changed to a readout of mission stats. Groans of frustration and disappointment sounded on the comms.
The mission itself was a failure. However, Jason had seen their flying and their attitudes toward combat when they were dealing with a faceless enemy—ships rather than hand-to-hand fighting, like they’d focused on in their training with him to date.
They can fly, and they’re willing to take risks. I can work with that.
“I’ve seen enough. Shut down,” Jason instructed.
They made the requisite shutdown entries and exited from the pods. The students lined up at the ends of their respective pods, flight helmets in hand.
Jason looked them over. Many of the Junior Agents had their gaze downcast with shame and others shifted nervously on their feet.
Good, they should feel bad after that performance. Strategically, it was a mess. Nonetheless, that wasn’t one of the criterion for the test.
“You failed the mission,” Jason said. “Quite terribly, in fact.”
“I’ll say!” Paula exclaimed. “We didn’t rescue the captive ship. Not to mention we lost three of our own!”
“Yes, and that’s the reality of battle. Not everyone always comes home.”
An unbidden stinging heat of loss struck his heart. Tiff’s sudden end still haunted him, and it likely would for the rest of his life. He’d come to terms with it, for the most part. Agents died in the line of duty all the time; he accepted that aspect of it for what it was. However, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—forgive the Erebus for their transgression.