Steel-Winged Valkyrie (Lady Hellgate Book 5)

by Greg Dragon

  “It was,” Fio replied, and when she met her eyes she was surprised to see understanding and regret.

  8

  “Hoo.” Helga gasped for air after ripping off the headset for the simulator. The small compartment slowly faded into focus, and her brain did the rest of the work to remind her that what occurred hadn’t been real. She patted herself down out of habit, searching for wounds that wouldn’t be there, and when her hands found her face, she suddenly felt foolish for her actions. It had only been a simulation, yet she was having difficulty accepting it.

  “Good run there at the end, Ate,” Quentin said, rubbing at his eyes as he placed his headgear back onto its charging station.

  “Yeah, that was intense. Reminded me of Meluvia,” Helga managed, her mind still reeling from the experience.

  “No way I got shot inside that transport,” Raileo whined from another station closer to the door. There were six stations total inside each of the four simulation booths, installed specifically for these exercises, though most would remain untouched until there were more than five Nighthawks.

  “You got shot, hero, deal with it,” Quentin quipped, gripping him by the shoulder as he stepped out from his own simulation booth.

  The new recruit, Anders, observed them quietly from his own, though his face betrayed a smile of satisfaction. Unlike Raileo and Quentin, he had managed to survive the exercise, even assisting his lieutenant, Helga Ate. Helga gave him a cursory nod to show her gratitude, but he wasn’t paying attention, so she took the opportunity to get a good look at his stature.

  At 170cm in height, he was shorter than the other two men. Small in frame, with large hands and feet, he owned a set of brooding dark eyes below short blond hair worn high and tight, the Marine way. He did have a good smile, and better manners, but this remained hidden behind a rehearsed wall of stoicism. Helga didn’t have a real opinion of him just yet, so she decided that now would be a good time to learn more.

  “Way to keep your head in there, Stratus,” she announced, which got his attention. “You operated like this wasn’t your first time. Run a lot of simulations back on Aqnaqak?”

  “Thanks, Lieutenant, and no, not many sims, but I do have some experience. Before BLAST, I was stationed on Starlance. It’s one of our infiltrators. Aqnaqak, I mean. Starlance is one of Aqnaqak’s infiltrator,” he informed her as they walked out to the center of the hangar where Quentin and Raileo were changing.

  Helga wanted to laugh at this new recruit giving her lessons on one of the more popular infiltrators in the fleet. “I know the Starlance,” she said. “Were you there under Captain Hyde?”

  “Oh no,” he quickly recalled. “I was still a cadet, but I was there before graduation. My team placed first out of all others on the Ubari trials. Four of us were rewarded with berthing on Starlance until we reached Vasylik Station.”

  “The Vasylik Station?” Helga couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “The one and only,” Anders rejoined. “We didn’t learn until it was too late that we were headed to a warzone. The Alliance had been warned, but by that time Starlance had already jumped beyond the range of FTL communication. Our dropship was intercepted by a cloaked lizard cruiser, and we were forced to land in what turned out to be an occupied station. Sergeant Cashe, our chaperon, ordered his Marines to arm us to help fight back when the hatches opened.”

  “Maker. How many of you were there?” Helga was dumbfounded.

  “Many of whom?” Quentin chimed in as he approached them, wanting in on the tale.

  “Anders here is a veteran,” Helga informed him with a smirk. “Seems he’s been through it in the past and killed his share of lizards as a green cadet. He’s giving me the details. Sounds like quite an adventure.”

  “You’ve killed lizards?” Quentin seemed skeptical. “Lizards with an S. Where?” he asked, his face becoming hard.

  “On Vasylik Station, Sarge, but to be fair, our Marines did most of the killing, I—we just fired where they told us, and covered their assault. We cleared the hangar, but the lizards rallied and—”

  “Vasylik.” Quentin’s eyes widened at the mention of the station. “You’re from Aqnaqak?”

  “Yes, sir, under Captain Tara Cor.”

  “Surviving Vasylik was likely how they discovered Anders was ESO material,” Raileo added, stepping up to place a supporting hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Everyone knows what happened on that station. Is it necessary to have the rook relive it just to explain that he belongs?”

  Rich coming from you, Helga thought. Aren’t you the one always giving him schtill with the childish hazing? She looked over at Anders who had gone silent, his demeanor becoming one of discomfort. Dark eyes stared lasers into the deck. The memory had been triggered, and she could tell that he was still in the moment. “You make a good point, Ray,” Helga quickly added, feeling guilty for being the one to have started questioning him. “We all had our Vasyliks, and none of us wants to run through the memories of them. I know I don’t. Right, Q?” She punched the big man in his arm.

  “Oh, he’s cold, I have no doubt,” Quentin added. “I saw what I needed inside of the sim. This man shows promise, but we’ll learn soon enough how he does in the real.”

  “Are we to conduct a rescue operation then?” Anders asked.

  “Hell if I know.” Quentin shrugged. “The only person who knows would be the commander, and perhaps Lady Hellgate, though she is forbidden to speak on it. Right Lieutenant?” Now it was his turn to jab her in the arm for the well-timed dig.

  “Next time you drop from one of my vessels, Tutt, you may experience a bit of turbulence, I don’t know,” Helga mused. “You know how it is. Any number of things can go wrong on those drops, depending on the atmosphere. If, or should I say, when something goes wrong, just remember who has your life in her hands.”

  Anders stared at her, measuring the threat, not knowing whether she meant it, since her face was stoic. “Good to see that everyone here gets on so well,” he added.

  Helga stopped to place her hand on his arm. “You did well today, Stratus, but despite your history, when we get deployed it is going to be a schtill show, so don’t expect it to go as neatly as a simulation. People get hurt, and there will be times when you won’t know if you’ll even make it. All we have is each other, and trust is everything. Don’t take our praise as an excuse to get cocky, or feel you’ve already made it. You will be tested, but it will make you into a Nighthawk. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I won’t ever forget why I’m here, you have my word on that,” he said, straightening his back and meeting their eyes directly. “Thank you for the advice.”

  “You got it,” Helga said. “Now go hit the showers and head up to the galley. You look exhausted.” Helga gently shoved him towards the door, and he feigned tripping over his own feet before heading off to their berthing.

  “I’ll admit I didn’t see Vasylik-survivor-turned-BLAST-graduate in our recruit there,” Raileo admitted.

  “You can never tell who has it in them,” Quentin commented. “Not by appearances. Just look at yourself, Ray. If someone was to meet you without knowing your history, would they know what you’re truly capable of?”

  “What are you trying to say?” Raileo became defensive.

  “I’m saying that for all your dancing and flirting on Rendron’s decks, outside of a PAS suit the rates wouldn’t know that you were a coldblooded killer.” Quentin grinned.

  Helga made to add her own dig but stopped short when she heard a change in Ursula’s engine. The droning sound coming from the ship’s generator had begun to stutter. It was a sound she knew well, that of the tracers coming online to pull energy from the reserves. She wondered if any of the other men had noticed. “Do you all not hear that?” She studied their faces, but both Quentin and Raileo shook their heads.

  “All I hear is my stomach crying out in protest,” Raileo complained, placing his hand over his abdo
men.

  “Tracers are online,” Helga announced. “Didn’t hear an ‘all hands,’ or warning, so it’s probably Ina running through our ordnance, calibrating timing, and making sure that we’re prepared for any contact. I’m surprised at you lot. Really. We’ve been here before on numerous cycles. What gives? It would be good to familiarize yourselves with these sounds. It is important.”

  They all exchanged their farewells, with Quentin and Raileo suggesting they continue the banter over chow within the next few minutes. Tired, sore, and struggling internally with relinquishing control of Ursula to her new pilot and friend, Helga spent the next half hour showering before changing into her formal Navy blues to take her watch on the upper deck.

  Time to play at officer now, she thought sarcastically. Check in on Ina, and then a quick perusal of our decks. She looked at the time and the third shift had barely started, which meant a clutch of the crew would be in the galley, eating and conversing loudly as they wound down from their dailies. It would be the optimum time to visit Cilas alone inside his cabin, or to do as he had suggested some cycles before, and engage with the rates to get to know them.

  A chime snapped her out of her hemming and hawing, and she nearly ran to the door, hoping it was Cilas. It was Chief Alon Weinstar’s face that appeared when she powered on the door’s monitor, and while he was still technically a stranger, Helga was happy for the distraction.

  Reaching down to collect her discarded 3B-XO suit and deposit it into the refresher, Helga opened the door expectantly, and upon seeing Alon Weinstar and not her commander she tried to hide her disappointment. She beckoned him in, noting how tall the older man was, his 196cm dwarfing her in that instance. The chief engineer stepped inside her compartment, saluted crisply, and kept the fist over his heart until she gave him a nod of acknowledgment.

  “Lieutenant Ate, apologies.” He tilted his head. “I was told by the commander that this was the best time to catch you.”

  “It is,” Helga said coolly, as she walked over to her desk, and placed her buttocks against the edge, not quite sitting, and not quite leaning, though it took the strain off her sore quadriceps. It dawned on her no sooner had she done it that this was the exact same thing that Captain Retzo Sho would do whenever she would visit his cabin. The only thing missing in her version was a glass of brandy, or something exotic in a glass.

  “Yes well, I came to deliver this,” the older man offered, coming to life. “It’s a new comms accessory to replace the one you all wear on your wrists.” He held up a box, which was small enough to fit inside her palm. “It’s a new design donated from the Genese Trade Federation, ma’am. Experimental for the Alliance, and approved by Captain Sho for our detail.” He grinned, revealing a top row of neat white teeth, and a lower set of a mechanical variety, glinting below the lights.

  “Xi’so,” Helga said, surprised, using a Traxian expression she had picked up from the ship’s physician, Cleia Rai’to.

  “Xi’so, ma’am?” Weinstar seemed confused.

  “I’m just excited. Please do continue,” Helga said.

  Weinstar chuckled. “As I was saying, it’s new tech, lighter, and much better. Will you give it a try, please, Lieutenant? It is my duty to not only deliver it, but to make sure that it is working for you.” The man held so much strained anticipation in his face that even if Helga wanted to decline, she would have found it difficult.

  Weinstar stuck a hand out towards her, palm turned up, long, thin, part metallic fingers holding a small coffin-shaped box with three small items inside. Helga accepted it, taking a step backward away from him, and plucked one of the items from the box.

  “You know, this is highly unusual, Mr. Weinstar. Popping in the way you did to ambush me with technology,” Helga teased, but nearly lost her composure when she saw the older man’s face flush red. “Not being serious,” she said, smiling quickly. “Am I supposed to wear these?” She picked out a small transparent container from the box that held a pair of red-rimmed contact lenses.

  “Ah.” Weinstar cleared his throat, embarrassed now that she had managed to get a joke over on him. “Yes, those are cornea shields with a holographic HUD display which connects to an activator.”

  She scrutinized the contents, wondering if she was his first victim, and if so, why? Everything inside the container looked factory-made, and the case did bear the Alliance’s seal.

  “And this other piece, the ‘activator,’ as you call it. Does that go inside my ear?” Helga held up a miniature disc with spikes on one side, giving it an eerie resemblance to a spider.

  “That is the activation node. It serves two roles, one for comms, the other for powering on the interface. When installed, you would merely need to touch an area behind your right ear.” Weinstar reached up to his ear to demonstrate his meaning. “A holographic interface will appear, allowing you to perform several functions, mostly for communicating with the ship and crew. Oh, and there are separate options for covert operations, concerning members of your team. It’s a computer, so it can be programmed to do more. No more need for clunky headsets and ear clips. Isn’t technology fascinating?”

  Helga shot him a wary look. “The teeth on this disc. I’m assuming they break flesh to secure it to the back of my ear, similar to Genesian jewelry?”

  “Yes ma’am. The hardware and intelligence are housed inside that tiny button. All you would need to do is press it against the back of your ear and it will secure itself. One small pinch and after a few minutes, you won’t remember that it’s even there.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Helga said, skeptically. “Who else is rigged up with this?”

  “Commander Mec had his installed last shift, and I intend to visit Sergeant Tutt, and Chief Raileo Lei once I’m done here,” he said, looking more than a bit put off by her distrust.

  Helga was surprised. Cilas hadn't said anything. “Can I put it on myself when I'm ready, or is there something else I would need from you?”

  “Just wanted to tell you about the contact lenses. They are biodegradable, and once in place should not irritate your eyes,” he instructed. “If they do, remove them immediately, and give either me or Dr. Cleia Rai’to a call. They can be worn for up to a Vestalian month, but really you can wear them for three. Extended use could damage your eyes, so be careful. I would advise you to only wear them when you intend to use the holographic interface.”

  “Oh, I see,” Helga said. “Without the lenses, the ear nodes can be used normally for communication, without having to speak into our wrists. Neat. This will make things a lot easier. Thank you, Mr. Weinstar, I think I’ve got it now.” Helga replaced the items in the box before sliding it into one of the many pockets on her coveralls. “How do you like it?”

  Weinstar’s face revealed a look of surprise at her question. “It’s an absolute game-changer, in my opinion. This will allow you to be fully independent of your armor. Even more, with this being available to all the Alliance, the engineers who build the powered armor suits will modify the helmet’s interface to sync with the new comms, possibly enhancing them. For me, as a man with enough tech fused to his organs to know the beauty of untethered synchronization, I’m excited for you all to experience it yourselves.”

  “Wow, you’re really passionate about this, Mr. Weinstar,” Helga said. “Are you synced right now?”

  “I am,” he replied, showing her the silver head of the node clipped to the back of his organic ear.

  “So, right now, you could tell me the state of our crystal core, even while we’re at supercruise?” she said.

  “I can, but to be honest, that information wouldn’t come from the node, it would come from my internal computer, which is synced with Ursula, the same way that Zan’s is. With the implant, you as a fully organic human will be able to get that information with a simple touch of the node.”

  “Won’t be fully organic anymore after today,” Helga mused, giving him a wink to let him know that she was j
oking.

  9

  Ursula was alive with activity, Cilas in the center of it with Ina Reysor, scrutinizing a holographic starmap, which displayed a region of Genesian space. Adjacent to their meeting, in separate stations, four of the new officers were chatting on comms, establishing clearances with the Alliance and local defense force patrolling Genese. Alon Weinstar was speaking to the Cel-toc, Zan, programming her to assist with monitoring the equipment on the bridge.

  Helga was still getting used to her role as first officer, no longer needed at the helm. Where Ursula was concerned, her role was teacher and enforcer, which meant tightening up on protocol and keeping an eye on the new crewmembers as they adjusted to the ship. Gone were the cycles of relaxing on the bridge, feet up, one wary eye on the radar, and music in her ears giving her peace.

  It wasn’t the downtime she missed, but the freedom to be herself. Playing officer to the rates was easy; after all, on Rendron it was the only reality she knew. Ursula had been an exception in the past, since it was just Nighthawks, and she was free to be herself. Quentin and Raileo respected the chain of command, and had proved themselves capable of joking with her during off-duty hours and toeing the line when she was in uniform.

  Experience had taught her that not every spacer was capable of respecting that line. With this new crew being her first chance at leadership on a bridge, she still joked on occasion, but kept things formal to keep them out of trouble with Cilas, who intended to run a tight ship. Helga’s watch was at second shift, giving Ida a break at the helm if it was necessary, but typically she would walk the main passageway, lending a hand wherever it was needed.

  Her schedule, for the most part, was that of a Nighthawk’s. This meant preparation, simulations, and the occasional crisis drill. First shift was for personal training, working out with Quentin, Raileo, and the Nighthawk recruit, Anders. Then once the blood was flowing, they would separate to their own separate focuses. Raileo Lei would be in the range, running high-level sniper exercises, Quentin would work out some more, and Anders had a flair for close-quarters combat.