I returned to my quarters and dropped onto the tiny bed. I wanted to kill something, I wanted to scream and never stop screaming. Adrenaline had quieted my hangover during the fight, now it was back and then some. I lay there for the better part of the day, at least what was left of it. They announced the results of the battle later on. We had killed 17 and only lost “one T-class fighter.” A fitting end I thought numbly. No one likes to talk much about a dead pilot who didn’t talk much. I slept on and off. I remember eating dinner, but I didn’t feel like myself again until my U-Link pinged to wake me up the next morning.
I shook myself out of the grumpy confusion that comes with a restless night. There was something missing. I was in a bad mood, but I couldn’t remember why. Then it hit me like a punch in the gut and I rolled over, not wanting to get up just yet. Why had that cruiser even shown up? Probably a missed jump, like D had said. We were pretty close to Conjunction space; it would have been easy to overshoot or stray too close to Matelion or its moon and end up in the middle of our formation. I put it out of my mind and left for the mess, bad mood or not I needed to eat.
Spin-Out handled it with grace, acting like nothing had happened. He kicked out the chair for me again and talked about the fight like Dub had never existed.
“You had a good run man, what was your final count?” Spin-Out asked.
“Four. Not that many, but there weren’t a whole lot to start with,” I said.
“By the time the other squads launched there was nothing left; I only cooked one of ’em.” He leaned back in his seat and tucked his hands behind his head. “Then again, a bunch of people didn’t get any,” he said. “Including the squad leader.”
“Remind me how that idiot got command of our squadron?”
“Hard Armor’s on leave, remember? Decided to take a vacation and left us stuck with him,” he said. Hard Armor was the squad’s usual leader. With him gone on shore leave, Tail-Burn was the highest ranked officer in 3rd squad. Each squadron was made up of fourteen fighters, seven wings of two. A grand total of forty two Falcons were always active on Atlantis for immediate deployment, with upward of twenty prepared to rotate off. Those twenty were probably going to be busy with training the rookie pilots over the next couple of weeks.
“So when do you think we’ll get him back?” I asked.
“A few weeks tops.”
“Great.” I slurped down a fresh spoonful of protein paste. I couldn’t even pick out what it was supposed to taste like that morning. “The hell are we getting moved to anyway?”
“General chatter sounds like the Altor system.”
“Empty planets, full stations, territory going back and forth for the last year. That about right?”
“Pretty damn close,” he said. Altor was once Conjunction territory, a good distance behind their original lines, but not strategically significant. It had been a stalemate system for a long time, skirmishes between token forces probing for weakness. Who had majority control of the system changed by the day, but GLA friendly stations had been there for over a decade. At the moment we controlled about half of the planets. Command must have smelled trouble and we were one of the closest ships to the area.
I was actually a little excited about this tour. We’d been stuck spinning around Matelion for way too long, the action would be nice. But I would need a new wingman before anything else happened. That was what I really dreaded, having to adapt to a new pilot, possibly one fresh out of flight school, or worse. As if on cue there was a burst of static from the intercom.
“Lieutenant Admen to CIC. Say again, lieutenant Admen please report to the CIC.” I stood up and thumped Spin-Out on the shoulder.
“See you on deck,” I said.
“Good luck man.”
The Combat Information Center was one of the finest feats of engineering onboard. It was in the center of the ship, surrounded by thick armor plating, effectively making it a bunker. The helm was at the bow, but connected to the CIC by countless backup systems; it was very hard to cut them off from each other. Around the outside of the room were a couple dozen different computers, each manned by an officer. Every computer worked individually, monitoring and regulating something different, from communications to the water supply. In the center was a massive holographic projection, displaying the area around the ship for 200 Klicks. At the moment, the commander was staring at the display and speaking to an ensign taking notes. He finished and the ensign left. I approached him and he looked up from the display.
Commander Kieran Jackson was just about the oldest looking 50 year old man anyone had ever seen. He already had lines all over every part of his face and a few scars here and there as well. His hair was still black, but slowly turning gray and it looked like if he tried to make any kind of expression other than a contemplative scowl his face would collapse. The one thing about him that everybody on this ship remembers is his eyes. Electric blue and piercing. Every time he looks at me, it feels like he’s staring straight through my skin. I would trust him with my life eight times over.
“Good morning lieutenant, I’m glad you came,” he said. His voice was as scratched as his face.
“Good morning, sir, what’s this about?” I asked, my tone neutral.
“I think this is best taken up in private,” he said, jerking his head toward his office. I followed him. He waved his hand towards Colonel Edwards, he had the bridge.
The commander’s office amounted to a steel room with a walnut desk and a few small chairs. He hadn’t taken all that much effort to make it seem like home. “Sit down,” he said, pointing to the chair in front of the desk. He retrieved a glass and a bottle of what looked like whiskey. I sat and he handed me a glass nearly full to the brim before sitting down behind his desk.
“Admen, I’m not going to bore you with the standard lecture about what a great man Fargo was and how sorry I am for you. Truth is I don’t know the first thing about the poor bastard. What I am going to do is tell you that he died doing his duty and I can’t have you losing your cool.”
“Yes sir.”
“I saw it all from here, you did the right thing. You’re one of our best pilots. I need you on form. The easy tours are done. And I’m only going to tell you once not to get drunk on me again. Got it?” he said.
“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” He nodded and motioned for me to drink up. I downed the glass in four hearty swallows. It had been filled with very strong iced tea.
“First squadron is on CAP today, so you’re in the clear. We’re jumping to Altor over the next 24 hours. Take a break. Blow off some steam. I need you on your toes. That’s my two bits on the matter,” he said.
“I will. Thank you sir.” I stood to leave.
“Oh, your new wingman will be waiting for you on the flight deck. You might want to take some time to get to know her.” I nodded and left, wondering who could’ve possibly ended up with me.
The flight deck was quiet, at least by flight deck standards. There were still people moving around and a single fighter took off as I came in. If we weren’t on patrol I figured I would have some sort of grunt work to do, so I went over to the flight roster. The space next to my name was blank, they had given me a day off. My eyes flicked to the name below mine. 2nd Lieutenant Joseph F. Fargo “Dub.” I wiped the name off with my arm.
“Sorry about him,” a voice said from behind me. I spun around, recognizing it as the woman who had saved me. “All right, let me get the introduction out of the way. 1st Lieutenant Nayana Wellborn Zakera. Call me Naya, T-class pilot. Yes, I’m fresh off my first tour, no that does not mean I can’t fly. I’ve still got transfer lag so try an’ keep it simple,” she said, rubbing her temples from exhaustion.
She was a Bast, deep purple skin and stripes covered her body. She was well curved and lean, catlike some would say. Her eyes were a deep emerald green and her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She had tied the top part of her uniform around her waist by the sleeves, exposing toned arms. Even tired, she exuded an aura of confidence and strength.
“Admen. Leonard Admen, callsign Jet, C-class pilot. And what are you sorry about? It wasn’t your fault, it was mine if it was anybody’s. I left him to save the squad leader.”
“And then I saved you.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome, happens to the best of us.” She stepped past me to examine the flight roster. She found her name and turned back to me. “Hm. Easy first day, our squad isn’t on rotation, is it?”
“Apparently not.”
“Who was he anyway?” she asked, looking at the fresh smudge on the board.
I had to think about it for a minute. “Just a guy I flew with,” I said finally.
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s it then?”
“I guess so. I didn’t know much about him. He was kinda quiet.”
“Sorry to pry.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll get over it.” It was the truth. Even after 24 hours I was already putting him out of my mind. “So what’s your story?” I asked. “You from Harmony?”
“What gave it away?”
“The accent.”
“I get that a lot.”
I started walking toward my fighter and she followed, keeping stride with me. “Where’ve you been up until now?”
“All over the big H. I trained at the academy, then they shipped me around orbit patrol for a while. No action, boring as all hell.”
We reached my Falcon and I vaulted inside. A little unnecessary on my part. “Usually it’s not much better around here,” I said, starting a system diagnostic.
“So I hear. Starting a new tour?” she asked, leaning against the side of the cockpit. There was a buzz of static from the intercom.
“All hands, jump in five minutes, say again, jump in five minutes.”
“That’s a yes,” I said.
“Where are we headed?”
“Altor. Seems they’re worried about something.”
“All right. Maybe this tour’ll actually be interesting.”
The diagnostic finished and pointed out a loose valve. I swore quietly and jumped out. “Maybe. Heard anything about what’s going on out there?”
“Increased enemy presence is all I heard,” she said. I slid under my fighter and she leaned down to continue the conversation.
“That’s all we ever hear. The usual shit.” I popped open an inspection hatch and grabbed blindly for a wrench.
She slid it to me before examining my guns. “What do you shoot out of these anyway?”
“Standards, 13mm hollow point, nothing special,” I said, tightening the loose valve.
“No specialty ammo around here?”
I snorted. “I wish. Can’t even get them to ship armor piercers in.” I slid out and gently nudged her hand off one of my guns. I slid open the feeding rack. “That’s all we got,” I said, presenting the fresh belts of ammo.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Worst part is that constant feeling that you could make it yourself.”
“Tell me about it. You take a few courses in munitions?”
“First tour they didn’t let me fly, said they needed me making bullets instead. You?” I slid the hatch shut.
“I know my way around a Falcon. Munitions included.”
“I’ll believe that when I see you fly.”
She smirked. “Good policy. Same to you Admen.” I was starting to like her.
“Jump in thirty seconds.” I climbed back into my Falcon and let off a quick burst of pressure from the stabilizers. Satisfied, I climbed out again. “Three, two, one, jump.” I felt my stomach drop out momentarily as the ship jumped upwards of a hundred light-years in an instant. We both plugged our ears as the first wave of patrols launched from the tubes and deck hands returned to their jobs.
“Never really get used to that, do you?” she said.
“Not really.” Our conversation was interrupted by a shout from the other end of the flight deck.
“I don’t care! I want that wing re-attached!” Tail-Burn was chewing out a deck hand.
“Sir, we don’t have the replacement parts, we’re better off just stripping down what’s left of it and using a nine and a half,” the deck hand said.
“That was a custom and I want it restored. Do it!” he said.
The deck hand bit his lip. “Yes sir,” he said, his voice calm and toneless.
Tail-Burn’s eyes shifted my direction. “Hey, dead eye, I wanna talk to you!”
I rolled my eyes. “Come along if you want to witness the wild ass-hat in its natural environment,” I said to Naya.
She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “Fascinating.” She followed at a distance as I strode casually over to examine the damage to Tail-Burn’s fighter. My burst had blown the top half of his rear stabilizer fin off. I didn’t know why it was such a big deal, the fins didn’t serve much function other than to make it easier to tell the difference between friendly and enemy fighters. The instruments inside of them were cheap and easily replaced. But of course, Tail-Burn had modified his, not in function, just to look distinctive.
“Look at that. Fucking look at that,” he said.
“I’m looking at a missing vanity wing. Your point sir?”
“You blew that off Admen. Your itchy trigger finger cost me a wing.”
“A second later and you’d have been splattered all over space, captain.”
“My point is, don’t do it again if you know what’s good for you.”
This guy’s captain’s bars might as well have been made of d-tape he bought with stolen lunch money. “Won’t happen again sir. I’m sure you won’t need me to save you next time,” I said.
“What the hell is your problem, Admen?”
My problem is you’re chewing this guy out over a useless piece of metal when he should be fixing real problems. And come to think of it, you’re chewing me out after I saved your life, I thought to myself. What I said was “No problem sir, just doing my part to keep the squad on its toes.”
“I’ll let you have that one Admen. Just that one,” he said, and then left. Even his walk was offensive.
There was a soft thump on my back after he’d left. “Thanks man,” said the deck hand. “I pick a fight with that asshole and he’d have my job.”
“Hey, anytime. This whole ship would have been scrap years ago without you guys.”
“You need anything?”
I looked after Tail-Burn and narrowed my eyes. “I need a nine and a half on Eugene’s fighter. And take it to Colonel Edwards if he starts that crap again.”
“Wait wait, his real name is Eugene?” I nodded, the deckhand chuckled. “You got it sir.” He left in search of a replacement fin.
“Nicely done,” Naya said from behind me. I turned to face her.
“We’ve all got to live with him, I guess. Still fun to remind him how useless he is every now and then.”
“I’m almost scared to ask but, what’s his story?” she asked, leaning against the bulkhead.
“Earth naval academy, wanted his own ship but his scores were too low. Daddy’s rich though, so they figured posting him on Atlantis would keep him off the front lines and shut him up. Total dip to everyone below him, total kiss ass to everyone above him.”
“I didn’t get the impression that Jackson tolerates that kind of thing from a squad lead.”
“He doesn’t. You could say Tail-Burn’s the loaner. Shifted in when Hard Armor finally took some time off. We got stuck with him for a whole tour.”
“If we’re lucky he won’t be on the ship at all for much longer.”
“Wishful thinking. I like that,” I said, following her towards her own fighter. She climbed inside and examined the systems. She seemed satisfied.
“Not exactly luxury, but it works just fine.” There was a light tap on my back and I turned to face Spin-Out. He was grinning in a way that could get annoying after a while.
“I am free of that moron! No more Faceplant! I don’t care who the hell they stick me with, anyone’s better than him!” he said, doing a very cheesy dance on the spot.
Naya stuck her head out of the fighter. “Who’s this?”
“Kuave Azuma, meet Naya Zakera.”
Spin-Out stiffened his stance and snapped his feet together. “My fellow pilots call me Spin-Out, Lady Zakera. How do you do?” he said, extending a hand. She played along and shook it, sticking her nose into the air.
“Quite well milord, thank you,” she said, stressing her accent to cockney point.
I smiled and laughed through my nose. “Good, Spin-Out finally found a playmate.” They both smiled and relaxed. Naya ducked back into her fighter.
“New wingman?” Spin-Out asked.
“Wingwoman, thank you,” she said from inside.
“Nice. Better her than one of them,” he said, looking towards a small crowd of nuggets around Tail-Burn. He was busily telling the new recruits how to make it as a “real” pilot.
“You come in with any of that crowd?” I asked through the cockpit.
Naya glanced over and shook her head. “Like hell. I haven’t seen them before. Do they always find the biggest ass to stick to?”
“Lota newbies around here. I’m guessing not many of them have seen any action,” Spin-Out said.
“First couple weeks out here are like school all over again,” I said.
Naya climbed out of her fighter and vanished beneath it. “Hardly. The food was better in school.”
I grunted to the affirmative. “So what’s the word Spin?”
“Altor’s where we’re heading all right. Rendezvous with the 34th fleet admiral in 18 hours,” Spin-Out said.
“Where are we meeting him?” Naya asked, sticking her head back out.
“Just outside of the system. Hard Armor’s cuttin’ his leave short so they’re giving him a lift too,” Spin-Out said.
“Where does he get this stuff?” Naya asked.
He shrugged and said “I listen. Our squad might have the day off, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the crew does.”
“Spin-Out’s where I get all my news. We’re actually going into the shit, does that mean we get to ditch Tail-Burn?” I said.
“Not really. He’s not going anywhere; he’s just not leading the squad anymore.”
“Arrgh. Why did you have to tell me that?” I said, burying my face in my hands. Naya slid out from under her fighter and wiped some sweat from her forehead.
“I’ll see how bad his flying is for myself tomorrow. I’m gonna go find myself some headache meds. Nice meeting you guys.” She left, presumably for sickbay.
“So you’re flying with her now, that right?” Spin-Out said once she was out of earshot.
“Yeah…this going somewhere?” I said, turning to head back for my own fighter. Spin-Out followed me and screwed up his face. I tried to ignore him for a second but it was no use. “Okay, I’ll bite, what’s the face for?”
“Trying to control my jealousy.”
“What do you mean?” I said, reaching my fighter and climbing inside.
“Hello? She’s smokin’ man. I’ll probably get stuck with some nugget. I’d almost rather have Faceplant back.”
“A minute ago you were bouncing off the walls to be done with him and now you want him back?”
“My point is you scored a hot Bast and I’m gonna get stuck with some near dropout who passed basic flight a week ago, I just know it.”
“Relax man, I don’t even know how she flies yet.”
“Saved your sorry tail once already.”
“True.”
A man in a blue jumpsuit holding a Linkpad with a mic on his head walked over. “Jet, you take any hard knocks yesterday?” he asked.
“I’m good, not a scratch on her.” It was the Deck Master. Any pilot who says he could fly without this man is lying. The DM manages repairs and controls launches from start to finish. He is the single man that keeps fighter jocks in the air. He glanced sideways at Naya, who was just now leaving the deck.
“I see you’ve received your new wingman,” he said.
“Mhm…and?” I was getting a little tired of everyone trying to point out my new partner.
“Nothing, sir. Happy with the assignment?”
“Better her than them. That’s all I’m saying until we fly,” I said, jerking my head towards Tail-Burn’s small huddle.
“I wouldn’t worry about them. They’ll mellow out after the first flight. Everybody does,” he said, looking sagely at the crowd of new recruits.
There was a buzz and the DM shot a quick goodbye at us before dashing towards the opposite side of the deck. Apparently the first CAP was home. These short patrols were common during jumps. Get somewhere; send out a couple of fighters to cover you while you calculate the next jump, and then call ‘em back. After a loud sound from the hydraulics a massive elevator ascended from the landing hanger carrying six fighters. Six loaders zipped up and towed them back to six different locations before the elevator descended again. Deckhands rushed forward to disarm and deactivate the fighters. The DM was on hand to ask what needed fixing. It was actually sort of fun to watch, the process operated like clockwork.
“All hands, jump in thirty seconds,” the communications officer said. I jumped back out of my fighter and watched a fresh wave of six fighters load into the tubes. I felt my stomach leap again as we vanished and reappeared. I plugged my ears as the pneumatics spun to a roar before dying away.
“How many jumps out are we going anyway?” I asked Spin-Out.
“Five or six, I think.”
“It’s gonna be a long day for first and second squad.”
“Yeah, but we did all the hard work yesterday. It’s their turn.” Again my thoughts wandered back to Dub. No matter what happened, he was just going to sit in some corner of my mind. My thoughts must have bled through to my face, since Spin-Out spoke up.
“You all right man?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Gonna go get a workout in.” He nodded and left in search of a card game or something, I supposed.
I needed something basic, something mechanical. So I pulled, pushed and ran until it was the only thing in my mind. Anger became my heartbeat, sadness the steady in and out of breath. It was hard to feel anything specific about Dub dying, I had barely even known him. Unsettled was as close a word there was. What made it hard was the fact that he had died under my command. I felt better after a while, but leaving would mean I’d have to talk to someone, and time alone was rare. The commander understood how I felt, that was why he had given me the time off, I guessed.
After lunch I returned to the little closet I called my living space. My quarters were barely more appealing than the flight deck. They may have been private, but I dare say they were nearly as loud. The thumping and scraping of people moving around outside and the dull hum of the engines. It was impossible to sleep for real on this ship if you weren’t exhausted. Every time there was a jump, the sensation of falling woke you, every time, without fail. I didn’t sleep anyway, just lay on the bed and breathed deep.
After a while my Link pinged. Funeral services for Dub would be held when we stopped to re-supply at a decent sized station. Good, I could put him away for now. I set my Link back down and glanced at the clock. They were serving dinner right about now, but I wasn’t hungry. I fixed my eyes on the gray steel above my head.
My thoughts jumped to Naya. Even after just a day, I liked her. She had a good attitude, a good record…other good stuff too. I forced this thought from my mind. She was my wingman first; I didn’t want to get attached before I even knew her. I told myself it was just the fact that it was lonely out here. Finally realizing just how tired I was, I rolled over and closed my eyes. I felt my stomach drop out one last time before drifting off to sleep.
The Wings of Atlantis 