by StarAndrea
He could feel motion even without inertia pressing him into his seat or gravity skewing as the vehicle yawed immediately on bay exit. There was an autopilot function; he could see it on the console and he could see just as clearly that it wasn’t engaged. Space Control could take over the vehicle in an emergency, but they hadn’t done so.
The only logical conclusion was that the AI was flying his RAV.
“RAV 4,” Jenna’s voice replied. “Thanks for the tip. And your friend, too.”
“RAV 3,” Saryn said, “Thank you. From both of us.”
“RAV 4,” Lyris voice replied immediately. “Fast learner; welcome to the party!”
“Is that what you call it,” Saryn said, and he knew he’d forgotten as soon as he said it. Fortunately it wasn’t an identifying comment, and he supposed even if it was that didn’t make it incriminating. The AI had answered his questions, after all.
“Most days,” Jenna’s voice replied. “RAV 4, you’re welcome.”
He had to smile even as the sky above him turned cobalt and black and he wasn’t in control of a vehicle hurtling toward an armed skirmish at the edge of their solar system. He’d heard nothing from Space Control, so he assumed that either the AI was talking to them or Jenna was right: flight traffic was being automatically rerouted to let them go wherever they went.
“Rangers,” a new voice said. “This is not an intermural skirmish. This is a battle for the system. 4 and 5, I need you to assume flanking positions to protect the unaligned fighters. Your primary goal is to keep the unnumbered fighters on your HUD alive; is that understood?”
Saryn knew authority when he heard it, and he didn’t need to see “1” blinking on his display to know where the voice was coming from. “Understood,” he replied.
“Can do,” Jenna replied. “Apparently. Unsolicited background information; I’m better at evading than I am at holding still.”
“Noted,” the voice from RAV 1 replied. “Your armor is better than anything our fighter pilots have; today your job is to be their shield.”
“You got it,” Jenna said.
Saryn couldn’t help it. “RAV 5,” he said. “Do you argue with everyone?”
He heard her laugh, and he wondered if everyone else had gotten that too. “RAV 4,” she said. “That wasn’t me arguing. I’m practicing my polite today. Also, our first meeting is coming back to me and you don’t have any room to talk.”
Their first meeting definitely hadn’t made enough of an impression on him, though he could now remember it in greater detail than he had since the day they’d met. It was disconcerting in a way the sudden knowledge of Ranger operations was not. Knowing things about other people felt like a learning process, no matter how unnatural, but remembering his own life in ways he’d forgotten felt… foreign.
Or maybe it was the machinery. He was watching blips on a heads-up display converge on a reference point that had to be him. He was breathing recycled air while people he didn’t know chattered in his ear. He was barely flying a vehicle designed to tear other ships apart, and if he hadn’t taken a shortcut on the streets yesterday afternoon, he wouldn’t be here at all.
Saryn was supposed to be in a meeting right now, and he had no illusions that he would make it back to Elisia in time to explain his absence.
“Saryn,” Lyris’ voice said. “I know you’re in denial about the empathy thing, but you know how some people’s moods are contagious? Yours are very contagious.”
The reference point on the display didn’t move, as a reference point shouldn’t, but it finally occurred to him that they weren’t converging on him so much as he was flying into their midst. He was surrounded by enemy fighters and he’d brought this on himself. What was he doing in an assault vehicle on the edges of the solar system?
“RAV 3,” he said, because he needed something else to concentrate on while the enhancers tried to make up the ground between what he suddenly knew and what someone with any experience at all would do with it. “Why can I hear you when you’re not with me.”
“Saryn, that’s called a radio,” Lyris’ voice replied. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’re not military, huh?”
His own actions brought different parts of the display into focus. Trying to maneuver made the circles glow like they were burning through the hologram, and reaching for weapons made the xs the only thing he could see. “I’m familiar with radios, Lyris.”
“Saryn, not familiar enough.” Lyris sounded like he was grinning, which Saryn thought was unfair. “Name goes at the beginning, or you’re going to hear it from Kris.”
“RAV 3,” Saryn said, and he could fire weapons and maneuvering jets at the same time, except that, predictably, this wreaked havoc with the target lock. It was easier if he didn’t think about how he knew that. “I find my ability to focus substantially increased, but still not infinite. There will be some oversights in protocol.”
How he knew anything about protocol was a mystery to him, but even as he thought it he remembered flashes of forgotten conversation and pieces of disconnected observations. It was as though everything in his mind was being reviewed and remade, recreated into something that could support his current activities. He probably should have asked more questions about the enhancers before he voluntarily filled his body with nanotech.
“Saryn, you’re doing great,” Lyris told him. “The RAV will take you as far as you let it, and we’re here for you as much as the fighters. Tell me if you need help.”
Saryn recognized the position his RAV had assumed without any input from him. It was the same relative location RAV 1 had asked them for. He could only guess the RAVs heard the orders as their pilots did, and were at least partially capable of carrying them out on their own.
“RAV 3,” he said. “If I needed help, I assume your ability to assess potential recruits would be in question. Kel assures me that it is not.”
“Saryn, asking the bot about me?” Lyris replied immediately. “You owe me a personal contact so I can quiz them about you.”
Saryn had to smile, even as the weapons responded to his largely thoughtless control. “RAV 3,” he said. “Are you deliberately engaging me in dialogue in order to facilitate an instinctive flight response?”
“Saryn, why, is it working?” Lyris’ voice countered. “I’m mostly trying to keep your realism from translating mentally into team-wide apathy, but you’re right. Supporting enhancer integration sounds much better; I should use that.”
“RAV 3,” Saryn said. “I fail to comprehend why I would have any mental effect on the team whatsoever.”
“Saryn, yeah,” Lyris said. “So you’ve said.”
Part 2: Teammate
He would remember shockingly little of that first skirmish. He did think of it as a skirmish, not “the first battle,” as Kris had suggested. He assumed he had the enhancers to thank for the sense of perspective.
He remembered breathing too hard in his helmet, and almost taking it off before the AI warned him it was switching to dynamic pressurization. Apparently that helped with hyperventilating, because the tingling feeling eased and his fingers felt normal again. His skin continued to feel clammy but his visor didn’t fog up, so it was more a matter of comfort than of practicality.
He didn’t remember flying. He didn’t remember firing. He remembered a single proximity alert that he identified as debris from a raider he had destroyed, and that moment of panic and regret seared itself into his mind. It didn’t paralyze him.
He didn’t remember knowing how many non-Ranger fighters there were when he and Jenna joined the fight, and he didn’t know how many were left afterwards until he thought about it. He didn’t know how long they had when Kris ordered them to stand down, but he knew the system was clear and that he was supposed to return to Operations. He also knew that Lyris was not.
“RAV 3,” he said without thinking it through. “Should we be worried?”
“Saryn,” Lyris’ voice replied immediately. “That Kris wan
ts to talk to you without me? Probably. I’m working on it.”
Lyris was not the leader of the Rangers, and no matter what their bot said, Saryn didn’t expect that he got whatever he asked for. Still, he had handed over those enhancers very confidently. Saryn and Jenna had been accepted into the defense formation without a moment’s pause, though that might have been more about what the fighters saw than anything else.
It occurred to Saryn that their very public appearance might force Kris’ hand where something Lyris had only recommended could not.
“Saryn,” Lyris’ voice came back a moment later. “Timmin’s taking my place on system sweep; probably better not to tell Kris you know I’m fighting for you. So to speak.”
“RAV 3,” Saryn said, although by now he was aware that “designation” included names as well as RAV numbers. “Understood.”
“Saryn, funny, isn’t it?” Lyris did indeed sound amused. “How well you know what I mean without me having to explain.”
This time Saryn was conscious of the AI’s reorientation of the RAV as it followed an arc that would bring it back to the inner solar system. “RAV 3, it’s a matter of skill,” he said. “Recognizing intent and knowing what to say. And what not to say.”
“Saryn,” Lyris replied. “I don’t disagree. I just think your skill happens to be predicated on more than the usual number of senses.”
“Lyris,” Saryn said, because he might as well test the communications system with an argument that was both sensitive and frustrating, “assuming you consider normal to be five, you are incorrect.”
Lyris didn’t reply, but neither did anyone else, so Saryn thought it must have gone to the right person.
Jenna contacted him then, asking exactly what he’d asked of Lyris: “Saryn, you think we should be worried?”
Saryn couldn’t in good conscience ignore what Lyris had said just because he disagreed. The man was exponentially more experienced than he was, with Ranger activities in general and team relations in particular. But when he told her that Lyris seemed to think so, he added, “I'm not,” and of course that was the part she latched on to.
“Saryn, we don't have to worry?” Jenna demanded. “Is that what you're saying about it?”
“RAV 5, we just injected a 67% increase in Ranger capability into the middle of an in-system raid that everyone at home was not only watching but likely recording for broadcast and analysis,” Saryn said. “There was no prior indication of Ranger recruitment or training, which either makes this a carefully planned tactical response, or an accident of unprecedented proportions. Which story do you think the EPD will prefer to publicize?”
“Saryn, you could have just said yes,” Jenna replied.
“Jenna,” he said, “you’ve shown little to no inclination to trust my word so far.”
“Oh, hey,” she said. “You do remember my name.”
“Keep the flirting off the comms, please,” the voice from RAV 1 told them. “Allcall override: RAV 2 is taking over system patrol with Wing 2. RAVs 3, 4, and 5, you’ll follow me back to base.”
“I expect we’ll be introduced at that time,” Saryn remarked.
“You know my number and I’ve seen you fight,” RAV 1 replied. “I’d say that’s a fine introduction.”
“Now who’s flirting?” a new voice asked. The comm pegged the source as RAV 2, and a name came to mind as soon as Saryn wondered: Timmin. Timmin was number two.
“They’re called priorities,” the voice from RAV 1 answered. “Today mine are simple: live, and keep others alive.”
“You’re aiming too low,” Timmin said. “I take back what I said before. You should definitely flirt more.”
“With you?” RAV 1 replied.
“If you insist,” Timmin said, and he sounded very cheerful about it. “Are you free for an interview later?”
“You won’t be,” RAV 1 said. “If you don’t clear the system.”
“You got it,” Timmin replied.
“RAV 4,” Lyris’ voice said, before he could ask. “Yes, they’re together, and no, you shouldn’t ask. I mean, go for it if you like verbal sparring and constantly trying to one-up each other, but it’s not my thing, personally.”
“Aren’t you together?” Jenna’s voice asked.
Saryn smiled. “RAV 3,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the advice, but you may be speaking to the wrong person.”
“Saryn, yeah,” Lyris’ voice replied. “I’m getting that. You like her though, right? Will you vouch for her if Kris challenges you?”
“Right now we’re very separated,” Timmin said. “It’s like there’s this vast gulf filled with nothing in between us. A void, you could call it.”
“Oh, don’t do that,” RAV 1 said. “The marriage proposals will start again. Why am I available just because I’m not with you?”
“You are with me,” Timmin said. “You can be available if you want, but I’ll fight ‘em.”
“I think you’re with me,” RAV 1 retorted, “but agree to disagree.”
“Lyris,” Saryn said. “Will I need to? I know very little about Jenna, but it was my decision to give her the enhancers. I’ll stand by it.”
“Saryn, glad to hear it,” Lyris answered. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Sounds like a yes,” Jenna said. “Just checking. My information is all secondhand.”
“It was secondhand,” Lyris’ voice corrected. “It’s getting more firsthand by the minute.”
“Yes, thank you for making that decision for us, Lyris,” the voice from RAV 1 said. “Typically a tour involves showing someone around, not giving them technology and inviting them into space.”
“Hey, hang on,” Timmin said. “Let’s not do this over the comm, remember? We love Lyris and he makes good decisions. Don’t forget your priorities.”
“My priority of keeping other people alive involves discussing this over the comm,” RAV 1 replied.
“Don’t threaten new people on their first day,” Lyris said. “Give them a few hours to settle in first.”
“I’m not threatening them,” RAV 1 replied. “I’m threatening you.”
“I object,” Saryn said. “The responsibility belongs to me as much as it does to Lyris.”
“Oh, you’re not absolved,” the voice from RAV 1 told him. “Although points for acting like a responsible member of the team. There’s plenty of blame to go around here.”
“Saryn,” Jenna’s voice said. “Do we like her? I can’t decide.”
He tried not to smile, because he knew it would be in his voice when he said, “Jenna, to be fair, I haven’t decided about you either.”
“Saryn, that’s a lie,” she replied. “You told Kel you like me. You can’t take that back; it’s too late.”
“Jenna,” he said, and this time he knew should would hear his smile no matter what he did. Which was good, because no matter what she thought, he didn’t want her to hate him. “It’s never too late.”
Entering orbit was a much more harrowing experience than leaving it had been. Everything he hadn’t had time to think about as they were taking off came back to him as they returned, and his own knowledge of how to work with orbital traffic patterns seemed to be a detriment. Jenna was right: Space Control cleared a path, and they yielded to no one.
It was much harder to put into practice than it was to observe.
Saryn considered himself fortunate that the AI took over completely once they were inside the atmosphere. He assumed that wasn’t always the case; Ranger pilots must typically be capable of maneuvering in situations far more stressful than commuter traffic. But he was just as glad to let the RAV make its own way back to the launch bay.
He didn’t realize until he was already inside that his vehicle had followed Lyris’ in. He saw Jenna’s become stationary on the heads-up display a moment later, and he wondered if they always loaded by number. There was a visible empty space on the display between RAVs 1 and 3, so perhaps they did.
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nbsp; He reached up to remove his helmet before he even considered how to disable the harness. Staying where he was didn’t seem like the worst option. He had launched a Ranger RAV, survived a firefight, and returned safely to Elisia. All in less time than his afternoon schedule was meant to take.
He could go home right now, and his sister wouldn’t know anything was different.
He could go home right now, have supper, and go to bed early. In the morning he could make his excuses for every meeting he’d missed this afternoon, claim pressing personal matters, and go on without raiders and system skirmishes being part of his everyday life.
Nanotech could be deactivated. Enhancers could be removed.
He could go home right now.
He hadn’t thought about it, but he’d expected Lyris to say something when he doubted. Over the comm, or even in his head, since he seemed to imagine the man’s voice easily enough. The empath could clearly detect crises of faith, perhaps even regular uncertainty, and surely this fell somewhere on that spectrum.
Lyris had wanted him enough to pursue him before now. Was this sudden fear too much? He wasn’t the only one who’d survived, after all, and maybe he truly could walk away. Maybe raiders didn’t have to be a direct experience in his daily life.
But they would be someone’s daily life, or they would be everyone’s. To walk away would prove he wasn’t the person Lyris tried to recruit. Did recruit, because here he was: sitting in the cockpit of a RAV. Trying to decide if this was the responsibility that was too much, the one he couldn’t handle, the cause he refused to take on.
None of them had been so far.
Saryn reached for his harness, and it retracted into his seat back. He stood up and carried his helmet down the ladder, because dynamic pressurization or not, it was nice to breathe air that hadn’t been in and out of his lungs multiple times already. He stood in front of the airlock without thinking anything beyond, this is what I have to do next.