Saryn of Elisia

by StarAndrea

  “Wait,” Jenna said. “We’re staying here? I thought there was an emergency!”

  “A lot of people think there’s an emergency,” Kris replied. “Let’s not leave both our planets undefended because just someone out there knows how our patrols work.”

  “Then take me,” Jenna said. “I can’t lead one of your wings; Lyris can. Leave him in orbit and take me with you.”

  It was a good idea, at least as far as he understood Ranger strategy. Their brute force was unquestioned and he’d seen the results of enhanced instinct for himself, but their ability to function as leaders and rallying points must be the subject of constant training. That was training he and Jenna didn’t have.

  “All right,” Kris said. “RAV 3, fall back; RAV 5, with me.”

  Lyris didn’t protest, either over the comm or in Saryn’s head. His focus shifted immediately, from what lay ahead to everything around them as he circled back. It wasn’t until Saryn remembered he couldn’t see him that it occurred to him: he shouldn’t know that.

  “RAV 4,” Lyris said. “My wing just scrambled, and there are two more on standby tonight. Unless you feel confident taking point for an unaligned fighter wing, that leaves you at large.”

  “RAV 3,” Saryn said, “I’m not sure I feel any more confident at large.”

  He could hear the smile in Lyris’ voice again, and that at least was something he knew. He read meaning and intent from people’s expressions, not directly from their minds. “Saryn, these ships were designed for someone like you. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Lyris,” Saryn said, because he would follow any cue Lyris gave him if it meant keeping this team together. “I almost made you quit tonight. I have no need to fail at enemy engagement if I break my own side apart from within.”

  “Saryn.” Lyris’ voice sounded very serious, even as Kris’ voice came over the channel with a tactical update.

  “E-wings, this is a targeted strike! Fall back! This is not an advance. You are the target. Fall back!”

  “Elisian Rangers,” a new voice said. “They’re harassing the wings.”

  “Calijyt, I see that,” Kris replied. “Did you leave someone back home?”

  “Elisia, we did, on the assumption that they’re drawing us out.”

  “Calijyt,” Kris said. “I’m ordering my wings out. My RAVs are willing to defer to you if you coordinate our response.”

  “Elisia, confirmed,” the voice answered.

  “Saryn, we’re about to have company,” Lyris’ voice interrupted. “Incoming Wing 2 on wide-system patrol.”

  “Lyris, it’s generous of you to think I know what that means,” Saryn replied. “I understand from your tone that it’s not a threat, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  “Saryn, Timmin’s wing is on its way back,” Lyris said. He sounded matter-of-fact, as though he had to educate Rangers on the fly every day. “They may have raiders behind them, but Kris just joined Calijyt’s Rangers to make sure most of them are free and clear. It’s not likely an enemy combatant will make it this far, but that’s what we’re looking for: any incoming ship that doesn’t belong here.”

  “Lyris,” Saryn said. “Do we expect raiders that are not following Timmin’s wing?”

  “Saryn, yeah,” Lyris said. “Hopefully no, but practically yes. Kris thinks the ambush was a diversion; that’s why we have three more wings ready to launch.”

  “And you and I were left behind,” Saryn said.

  “Saryn, yeah,” Lyris repeated, and Saryn recognized his mistake as soon as he said it.

  “RAV 4,” Kris’ voice said. “I’m sure that made sense in the context of your conversation, but it didn’t work for mine. Keep your private chatter private.”

  Saryn didn’t expect Kris to want a response, so he just said, “Lyris.” And then he didn’t know where to go with that, because surely he had been about to say something, but it was suddenly gone from his mind.

  “Why does Kris address multiple wings when there’s only one flying?” he asked instead.

  “Saryn, the fighters on the ground can monitor every channel,” Lyris said. “The ones in the air can monitor every channel if they want to, but protocol is not to. That’s why we have channels in the first place. Sometimes people on the ground follow it too, or it gets to be such a habit they don’t pay attention to anything that isn’t directed at them.”

  “So she’s--” Saryn stopped abruptly. “RAV 3, she’s making sure every wing hears what she tells Timmin’s.”

  “Saryn, yeah,” Lyris said. “And don’t worry about the occasional channel mistake. We all know how to focus.”

  “Lyris, I’ve already been corrected by Kris once tonight,” Saryn said. “I’d rather avoid a repeat, if possible.”

  “Saryn, just now?” Lyris asked. “For the channels? Or earlier, for me?”

  “Lyris,” Saryn said. Earlier, for me. “Twice, then. I’ve been corrected twice. I apologize for making you want to leave.”

  “Saryn, I don’t want to leave,” Lyris said. “I just want you to be a different person. That’s not fair, and I don’t want to be bitter about it, so I’m going to avoid you instead. Problem solved.”

  “Lyris,” Saryn said. “That sounds like one problem solved and several more created. A net loss in terms of overall functionality.”

  “Saryn, but it’s a net win for me,” Lyris replied. “I’ll take it.”

  Timmin’s fighters were showing up green and labeled “2” on Saryn’s display now, individual colors and numbers in wide formation along an outer orbit. The RAVs were too far out to show in the same field, but he could see Kris and Jenna filling holes in the Calijyt defense when he concentrated. He had to look for Timmin separately to find RAV 2 drifting away from the Ranger formation: still shooting, but unable to hold a relative position.

  “Lyris,” he said, “what’s wrong with RAV 2?” He had no idea if it was acceptable to ask Timmin directly, or if that would be considered a distraction. Kris must have ascertained his status already: why wasn’t that worthy of an allcall override?

  “Saryn, he probably took one too many thruster hits,” Lyris replied. “He would have told us if it was bad. Or Kris would have sent him home. Your AI should be able to give you a status report.”

  He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of asking his own ship about the status of the others. It seemed to know everything else, and the RAVs were clearly sharing information. It had told him to ask, after all.

  “RAV 4,” Saryn said. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with RAV 2?”

  “RAV 2 is currently rebuilding thruster alignment and firing capability,” the AI answered. “Defensive plating and shielding are no longer compromised and offensive weaponry has been restored. The pilot is not in danger.”

  Saryn raised his eyebrows. “RAV 4,” he said. “On what do you base your judgment that the pilot of RAV 2 is not in danger?”

  “I base it on the lack of imminent threats to his physical well-being,” the AI replied. “Based solely on current conditions, the probability of his survival is high.”

  Probability of survival based on current conditions, Saryn thought. It seemed as good a measure of danger as any other. “RAV 4,” he said aloud. “Thank you.”

  “Saryn,” Lyris said. “I don’t feel good about this. Do you feel good about this?”

  Saryn blinked. “Lyris? About what?”

  “Saryn, the lack of raiders,” Lyris said. “There was no point to that ambush if they don’t surprise us somewhere else.”

  “Lyris, presumably the point of the ambush was to surprise us at the ambush,” Saryn said. “That has been accomplished, and a RAV partially disabled in the process. If other surprises were intended, it’s possible the presence of five RAVs where yesterday there were three caused them to reassess.”

  “Saryn,” Lyris said. “I like logic as much as the next person. But it’s hard for me to take you seriously when you don’t even use the resources yo
u have.”

  Saryn couldn’t tell if he was supposed to reply to that or not. Lyris had paused, but for all he knew, the man was speaking to someone else. How did the AIs keep them from interrupting each other unintentionally? Did they introduce some kind of delay? Priority system? They certainly seemed capable of that level of judgment.

  “E-wings,” Lyris said. “Routine in-system backup. Wing 3, launch. Standby wings, scramble.”

  “Allcall override,” Kris’ voice said. “RAV 3, report.”

  “No change,” Lyris replied. “I just have a bad feeling.”

  That was when the system sentries lit up. The sun exploded with raiders from either side, bright lights with xs over them on all of Saryn’s monitors. The voice of the Calijyt Rangers came on, overridden by Kris as she snapped, “Rangers, Elisian solar incursion.”

  “Saryn,” Lyris said, at almost the same time. “I’m going to need you to shoot. A lot. And not at us. Can you handle that?”

  “Yes,” Saryn said, and he had no idea why he couldn’t remember a simple radio procedure. “Lyris, I can handle that.”

  “Saryn, I’m warning the wings off of you; they will not use you as a shield except as the option of last resort. E-wings, do not converge on RAV 4, acknowledge.”

  “Lyris,” Saryn said. “I can manage not to shoot at the circles on my display.”

  “Saryn, this gives you more freedom to maneuver,” Lyris said, even as the acknowledgements came back. “Don’t waste it.

  “Wings 2 and 3,” he added, “stay with me. Standby wings, launch as ready. Rangers, I have two RAVs and two fighter wings on an intercept course with the Elisian solar incursion, please advise.”

  “Rangers,” Kris’ voice replied immediately. “Elisia is not prepared for an in-system fight of this magnitude. Our fighters are tapped out and two of our RAVs launched today for the first time.”

  “Rangers,” the strange voice added, “Calijyt stands with you. Fighters will defend our system while the Ranger--”

  “Saryn!” Lyris sounded alarmed for the first time, and whether it was automatic or intentional on the part of his AI, his warning overrode every other channel. “You’re too wide; if you let them through they’ll cut you off--”

  Raiders were already flooding through the widening gap between Saryn’s vector and Lyris’ wings. He wasn’t an expert at military strategy, but he knew what a RAV could do. He knew what this RAV could do.

  “Lyris,” he said. Lyris was still speaking, but time seemed slower, more deliberate as Saryn’s ship swung wide and started to turn. “This is what you told me to do.”

  He was completely separated from the rest of the Elisian forces and the raiders were only now starting to notice. He came around and opened fire indiscriminately. When everything on his display was an x, everything he could see was a target.

  He could hear Lyris without the words drowning out the Ranger channel over his comm, and this time he knew it was in his head. That’s definitely not what I told you to do, Lyris said. Why does everyone around here run on adrenaline and bad choices.

  It was surprisingly easy to smile at Lyris’ thought in the middle of a wave that understood strength in numbers. They didn’t scatter under fire. The near side of the raiding force was turning on him, rolling over him until it was just his shields against their weapons, a continuous bombardment that set off warning lights across every monitor he had.

  “RAV 4,” Saryn said aloud. “I appreciate the information, but I’m fighting for my life with very little experience. Please prioritize the warnings.”

  All but two of the orange lights turned yellow.

  “RAV 4, thank you,” Saryn said.

  The AI didn't reply, but he supposed any additional input would be counterproductive. He kept firing. He wasn't sure at what point waiting for the target lock became second nature. He swung around to protect compromised areas as best he could while the self-repair routines worked. Mostly he kept moving.

  He didn't realize he was ignoring all channel chatter not specifically directed at him until Jenna's voice said, “Saryn, can you fly tandem?”

  “Jenna,” he replied, briefly noting that the rest of the Rangers were in-system as well, “only if you tell me what it means first.”

  “Saryn,” she said with a grin in her voice, “it means I follow you and knock them off you from behind, or you follow me and give your forward shields a rest.”

  If she was willing to make it that simple, he would take it. With the rest of his attention split between enemy fighters and orange lights, he couldn’t process more than “lead or follow” anyway. She probably knew that.

  “Jenna,” he said, looking for her and finding a brightly labeled “5” on his monitor. “I’ll follow you.”

  Had he thought about it, he would have realized it was the wrong choice. The person leading required less skill than the person following, and he was barely keeping his RAV intact at it was. If she was able to locate, track, and assist a single vessel in the chaos, he should have let her continue.

  She didn’t correct him, and her RAV set off proximity alerts when it swooped past his own. His AI kindly kept the alerts yellow and silent, and but they didn’t disappear as Jenna took up a position in the dead zone of his starboard weapons and opened fire. She cleared a path he couldn't help but lean into, spaces he instinctively put his back against, and somehow he stayed with her.

  “RAV 5,” he said, when she swung out of the way just as his disabled weapons came back online. “I thought you said you were better at evading than being a shield.”

  “RAV 4 I am!” she replied, a grin in her voice. “Just imagine!”

  He was imagining it. He was remembering her objection to Rangers taking the glory owed to the fighters, and he wondered if she had ever been one of those fighters. She certainly flew like one.

  The wave of enemy fighters had thoroughly broken when one of his yellow warnings turned orange and flickered rapidly to red. Focusing on the steady blink, clearly intended to get his attention, he realized he was trailing Jenna through the upper atmosphere as their own ships chased raiders directly toward them. The E-wings were the hunters and the RAVs were the trap.

  It was a good idea, even to his untrained eye. The problem seemed to be the heat of friction on his port engine, more compromised than he’d realized when maneuvering with thrusters alone. Apparently the AI didn’t consider it a life-threatening problem when it wasn’t exploding or preventing him from running.

  Now, unless he was gravely mistaken, it was a life-threatening problem. And since he wasn’t trying to run, he was pretty sure that engine was about to explode. “Jenna,” he said, “I’m about to lose--”

  The engine light stopped blinking and turned a steady yellow while three more flashing reds lit up. “My port engine’s gone,” Saryn said. “With it, port weapons, port shielding, and atmospheric integrity.”

  “Saryn,” the voice of his AI added. “Atmospheric pressure critical. Dynamic pressurization disengaged. Suit pressure stable.”

  “RAV 4, that didn’t sound like a high probability of pilot death,” Saryn said. The maneuvering controls were becoming slower to respond, and he understood the time he had to decide between climbing and re-entry was very limited.

  Abandoning Jenna was no longer a question; it was a certainty.

  “Climb and risk catastrophic failure or descend and risk an uncontrolled crash,” the AI replied. “Staying in this fight is statistically inadvisable.”

  “Interesting analysis,” Saryn replied. “Tell me what happens to Jenna in the event of my withdrawal.”

  “RAV 4, Jenna is fine,” Jenna’s voice informed him. “Can you land?”

  “Allcall override, RAV 4, withdraw!” Kris snapped. “Ascend, get out of the atmosphere; I’m sending someone to cover you. RAV 3?”

  “On it,” Lyris’ voice replied. “Wing 3, you’re on your own.”

  “I can land,” Saryn said. He might not have much choice. The thrusters
were still firing, but the atmospheric drag was uneven and unprogrammed and apparently changing with his descent. He could probably reverse direction, and it would get easier as he rose instead of harder as he fell.

  Once he was out of the atmosphere, though, he would need both cover and rescue. On the ground, he might need only one or neither.

  “Landing gets him out of the fight,” Jenna was saying. “And it keeps the rest of us in it.”

  “That’s not your decision,” Kris retorted. “He’s an inexperienced pilot and we don’t need him taking out structures or civilians on the way down.”

  Of course Kris wasn’t worried about him, Saryn thought, and it almost made him smile. Whether he survived the crash or not was a publicity concern. The possible destruction of Ranger equipment had to be high on her list of priorities, but it wouldn’t sound good to say so. The welfare of ground settlements was the reason for Ranger existence.

  “Structural integrity is no longer sufficient to ensure survival at escape velocity,” the AI told him.

  “I can’t escape the planet’s gravity,” Saryn reported. “I assure you, I will attempt to crash in as remote a location as possible.”

  “Saryn,” Lyris’ voice said. “Let your AI talk you through it. Don’t come down on your port side and don’t take your helmet off until you have a read on the interior atmosphere.”

  He couldn’t not listen, but the words didn’t mean anything when the heads-up display took his entire focus. He was sure there was a visor overlay, but he couldn’t distinguish it. Everything he was aware of narrowed to gravity, aerodynamics, population and substrate.

  It was strange to feel nothing as he fell. He understood that any lurch or impact he might feel in the near future would be a very bad sign, but the vessel was still capable of protecting him. He was fortunate that as long as the other RAVs flew, the raiders were no threat to him this low.

  The only threat was potentially crushing impact as the ground reached up to swallow him. He heard voices. He felt Lyris’ concern. The AI calculated and recalculated and he saw his impact zone shift across the surface of the desert and the entire display turned orange as his altitude went to zero.