Chapter 2 -

The sound of rustling gravel woke Tyorin from his slumber. He sat up in bed, the blankets rolling off his back. Groggily, he looked about his room then down to himself. Why am I still dressed? The memory of the previous night filled his mind. The sour memories of his parents mixed with those of his sister and the simulator.

Oh yeah… He pulled the blankets back and tossed his legs from the covers, the cool morning air stinging his feet and toes. He looked to his wall to see the window open, letting the crisp morning air invade his room.

I specifically remember closing that last night… he yawned before pulling his pants off. The cold air having already defeated his feet now moved to his exposed legs. He winced when the air hit him …for that exact reason.

He closed quickly with the window and forced it shut before continuing to his bathroom and closing the door.

After his morning shower he emerged from his room fully clothed once again. The kitchen, thankfully, had all of its windows closed. The shades remained open however, inviting the bright, yellow morning sun to permeate the small home. The kitchen was small and almost seemed to invite people to bake in it. Pristine white counters surrounded the room, spaced with trinkets and jars with spices and such things.

Smelling the strong aroma of cinnamon, Tyorin proceeded to the counter where he found the source; a half-dozen fresh rolls. Taking a plate with three rolls for himself he continued to the living room. The only thing that separated the kitchen from the living room was the large mahogany table that had belonged to his grandmother before she passed away. Six matching chairs were all neatly spaced and pushed under the table.

The living room was equally inviting with its soft decor that his mother had expertly placed. There was a pair of dark blue couches set at a ninety degree angle. A small glass lamp-stand rounded off the corner between the two couches. A holovid sat in the corner opposite the couches and large wall windows reached around the room behind it.

The holovid was already on and blaring out the new day's news to no-one in particular. At least that's what Tyorin thought until he fell into the smaller couch, sitting down on a foot.

Barely recovering his breakfast before it fell to the carpet; he stood to see Elliay sprawled out on the seat. She lay there looking up at him, barely managing to contain herself. She moved her leg out of the way and let out a snicker as Tyorin resumed his place on the couch.

"I thought you had school this morning?" He muttered through half a roll, his eyes never leaving the Holovid. "And why," he turned to look at her this time, "didn't you say anything when I tried to sit down?" He finished by stuffing the second half of his first roll into his mouth and looking back to the H.V.

Her eyes stayed to the holovid as well, though she let out a short laugh before answering. "First of all; it's the weekend. Kinda hard to go to school when there is none…"

"Punk…" he cut in, picking up the next roll.

She ignored his comment. "And I didn't say anything because I never would've been able to forgive myself for breaking up such a perfect picture…" she started laughing hysterically as she replayed the scene in her head. "You trying to sit your zombie-ass down with a mouth full of cinnamon and your eyes half closed!" She barely managed to get the last of her sentence out before losing all composure and burying her head in the sofa cushion to muffle the laughter.

He looked back to her, swallowing the second roll. "Hey, I'm tired! And you need to watch your mouth young lady!" He emphasized his last statement by hitting her leg with the back of his hand.

She pulled her head out of the couch and shot daggers at him, "Don't tell me what to do! I'm a big girl!"

It was Tyorin's turn to laugh.

Elliay responded by hitting him with the cushion, "And you're the punk!"

Tyorin stood, ignoring the pillow, licking his fingers. He turned back towards the kitchen, "I'm assuming you were the one that opened my window this morning." He rounded the couch when Elliay looked from the H.V. to him, "Obviously trying to give me hypothermia." He said under his breath.

She watching him pass up the couch then lay back on her arm to watch the news again before answering. "Nope, Dad opened your window and Mom pulled your blankets over you." She sat up and turned around on the couch. She leaned against the back of the couch with her arms crossed over the top and her chin on her forearm, "I wanted to put your thumb in your mouth but Mom wouldn't let me."

"Punk…" He muttered again just loud enough for her to hear. He put his plate in the sink and turned on the water. The dishes from last night were still there. Tyorin reasoned that Elliay must have done away with the food and put them in the sink this morning.

"But the hypothermia idea is a good one." Her smile reached far across her face, "I'll write it down for you…" Tyorin scrubbed his hands as the water warmed up.

"Little punk…" he stated clearly this time; meriting an angered "Hey!" from Elliay. Tyorin put his hand in the water to test the temperature, yanking his fingers back from the scolding water and waving them around violently as he used his free hand to make a much-needed adjustment.

He dug the sponge out of the pile of dishes and pulled the soap from under the sink along with a small dish-towel, which he threw at Elliay. "Come help me with these dishes." He told her as the towel landed on her head.

She pulled off the towel and stepped from the couch, on her way to the sink. She grabbed Tyorin's still flailing hand and wrapped it in the towel. "I cleaned off the table and put the food away." She smiled, pulling the towel from his hand and hitting him upside the head with it. "So you owe me one, you can do the dishes." She turned to walk away with her nose in the air when Tyorin laughed again.

"Oh we've started keeping count have we?" His sly grin hiding nothing, "Then why don't we take inventory…" He put the towel and sponge on the counter and brought his hands up to count off his fingers.

Elliay had turned back to face him, her face turned grave.

He touched the tip of his first finger, "Tillior…" His smile only widened, "We both remember him don't we?" He knew Elliay wouldn't answer. "But I will let that one slide, it makes us even."

Their parents had forbid her from dating until she was a solid eighteen years old. And being as how she was only three months from seventeen, she was still well under that law. But how many parents could effectively stop their daughters from dating at almost seventeen?

None… thought Tyorin. And he knew it was true.

On numerous occasions, being the big, strong, brave, older brother he was; he had covered for his sister when she would come home late or smell funny or not be hungry for diner. Tyorin had always backed her up saying he had taken her to a friend's house earlier and forgotten to pick her up or made a large snack for themselves earlier that night before diner.

Always willing to take the fall for his sister. And times like this is when it all pays off. He thought to himself. If he could, he probably would have laughed maniacally, but he held it in and continued the count.

"Next we have the thirteenth… remember Black Tuesday?" they had effectively dubbed it, also referred to as the Tuesday from Hell. Tyorin wasn't going to get into that in detail, he didn't need to.

The count continued, "Then we have Muridio, Piloy, Ryuni…" he looked into the air above Elliay to add effect, "Who else…" he wondered aloud even though he could continue the list for another two or maybe three handfuls if he used other days as well. He dropped his hands and looked back to Elliay, "It seems to me you've been awfully busy."

Defeated, she walked back to the counter and picked up the towel. "C'mon, let's get this over with." She said curtly, not looked at Tyorin.

He turned back to the sink, having defeated his sister. The only thing left to do now is rub it in. "Don't get a bad attitude with me…" he picked up the sponge and tested the water again, "Young lady."

Elliay's face turned red, she snapped to attention and threw up a mock salute, "Sir, Yes, Sir." She nearly yelled at him before dropping the salute and turning back to the counter.

Tyorin stopped her, "Wait... do that again." Have to get the most out of this…

She looked up at him, the shadow of a glare in her eyes.

"Salute again; I wanna see your salute." He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot when she wouldn't respond to his request.

She huffed before finally giving out. Turning back to him, she pulled her heels together and put her right hand to her forehead.

He tried to hold back a laugh, "first of all," he started to correct her, "Your arm needs to be at a ninety degree angle with your body at the shoulder and a forty-five degree angle at your elbow."

He adjusted her arm and continued. "Your fingers would be touching the brim of your cover just to the right of your right eye." Elliay rolled her eyes as he went on correcting her.

"And second," he stepped back from her, having fixed her posture. "You never, ever, salute without your cover on." He patted her on the head before continuing, "Your cover is your hat," He smiled evilly at her, "Which you never, ever, wear indoors." He turned back to the dishes.

He buried his hands in the suds and started scrubbing before going on, "So it's another way of saying that you never, ever, salute indoors. Though there are of-course some special circumstances, but we don't need to get into that do we?" Tyorin flashed a mocking smile at her before digging his hands again into the sink.

Tyorin pulled a clean plate from the sink and handed it to Elliay for her to dry off. "And when you salute…"

"They don't ever, ever, want to see the palm of your hand." She finished for him, drying off the plate and placing it in the cupboard above her. "No special circumstances with that though."

"And the only ones you salute are…" he continued, unfazed by his sister's interruption.

"…Officers, with some special circumstances of-course." She finished for him again, drying off a glass this time. "Have you ever thought that maybe I do it wrong just to piss you off?"

"I know that's the exact reason you do it wrong." He handed her another plate. "And I correct you every time just to piss you off in return." He smiled at her as she turned red again.

They finished the dishes quickly and Elliay hit Tyorin again with the towel before turning on her heel to head back to the couch.

"Thank you." He replied as he pulled the wet towel from his face. "And what's with hitting me in the head all the time?" He put the towel on the hanger in front of the sink and walked after her.

"Just making sure there's still something there to hit." She plopped herself back into the sofa and looked back to the holovid.

Tyorin ignored the comment and moved behind the couch to rest his hands on its back. "Where did Mom and Dad go?" He asked blankly, looking into the H.V. himself.

"I'm not sure where they went but they were all dressed up when they left." She rolled over and looked back at Tyorin, "I'm sure it's nothing that concerns us." She added casually before rolling herself back towards the holovid.

"Yeah, you're probably right." He answered before turning around.

"Where are you going?" Elliay asked as she propped herself up against the back of the couch again.

"Unlike some people I know," He faked a cough which Elliay could just barely recognize her own name hidden within, "I have a job to do." He kept walking before turning the corner to the hallway. "I'll be back before dark." He called from behind the corner.

Elliay turned and sat back on the couch. "Oh, don't give me that 'job' garbage!" She yelled back at him from her place. "We both know it's just as much fun as it wants to be work." She paused for a second, "The only real work part about it is that you have to go six days a week."

"That may be true," Tyorin responded as he reemerged from around the corner with a jacket on and a backpack over his shoulders, "but they don't know that…"

"They meaning Mom and Dad…" Elliay said to herself as Tyorin opened the door leading to the garage. "Have fun at work…" She called as the garage door closed.

"Yeah… he's defiantly the punk…" She thought to herself as she stepped from the couch.

After closing the door Tyorin zipped up his jacket and grabbed his helmet from the rack it rested on. Pulling it over his head he pressed the button under the chin to open the large garage door.

As the sunlight poured into the musky garage, Tyorin mounted his lesser form of independence. The machine responded to his weight by starting up its hover-coils automatically and lifting from the stand it perched from.

It may be more play than work but the best part is that it pays well too. Tyorin smiled to himself as the hoverbike purred beneath him. He revved the coils a few more times before leaving the garage and zooming down the driveway.

Elliay stood at the kitchen window, watching him depart before closing the blinds and turning back to the holovid.

Tyorin continued down the road leading from his house until he encountered the main road, which he followed into the city.

Tyorin pulled into the parking lot of a large office building nestled between a five star restaurant and a used hover-car dealership.

An unusual spot for this place. Tyorin thought to himself for probably the millionth time as he parked his bike and dismounted. Pulling out the security key he listened to the hover coils retract back into the frame of the hover-bike. They won't come back out until the key is reinserted, that little feature cost Tyorin a pretty penny. He pulled his helmet off and clipped the buckle around one of the straps on his backpack.

Tyorin walked from the parking lot into the front lobby of the building. He looked to the clock as he walked in, ten-forty… early as usual. He noted to himself that he also had time to beat up on Elliay on Saturday mornings and still make it to work early.

Above the clock the words Sobanii Technical Engineering blazed across the walls in the traditional blood-red colors of the Sobanii. The sign looked as always like it was about to jump off the wall and into hyperspace. Walking up to the front desk, he offered a good morning to the receptionist before inquiring as to where he was to be working today.

She ran through her records before reading off her computer screen, "Software and hardware testing team, Three-C. Third floor, room Alpha Six." She chirped in her usual happy morning tone before turning back to her fellow receptionist and continuing their conversation as if Tyorin had never appeared.

Alpha six… software and hardware testing… Tyorin proceeded to the elevators and pushed the button for floor three. The elevator stopped at the second floor, of course, to admit a multitude of people in suits with briefcases and cell phones. A violent contrast to Tyorin who stood in the back of the elevator with his jeans and leather riding jacket, helmet still attached.

His ironic sense came over him as his eyes swept the people pressed into the elevator, reviewing the events of the previous night. I don't fit in anywhere… he laughed silently to himself.

The third floor came along and the doors opened. Tyorin squeezed his way past suits and jackets reaching for the doors. An older woman in the front held the door for him as he finally reached open space. He passed his thanks to the woman as the doors slid closed.

He looked down the long hallway. Doors lined the walls all the way until the hallway curved out of his view. He looked above the nearest doorway, "Oscar Six." He said to himself as he started out down the hallway. At least the first Alpha door I'll find will be number six… thinking to himself; trying to keep his glass half-full as he confronted the trek in front of him.

He was reminded every time he had to do this just how big the building really was. After what seemed like an eternity of walking, he looked up to see a sign reading Alpha Six above the nearest door. Thank Sajuuk… He opened the door to see a spacious white room with a large simulation sphere held in the middle.

The sphere itself was a bright white color that barely shaded against the backdrop of the walls of the room. Swarming all over the sphere were about thirty techs by Tyorin's count. The sheaths of the eight hydraulic legs that suspended the sphere were shining white as well, while the eight hydraulic shafts that slid into each were beaming chrome.

"A brand new simulator…" A strong male voice said over Tyorin's left shoulder, startling him.

Tyorin turned to see the software engineer who had first offered him a job at the facility. "Jurin! They didn't tell me you were gonna be here!" Tyorin presented his right hand and shook Jurin's.

"And why would I want them to ruin the surprise?" The older man chuckled and guided Tyorin to a small office off to the left. He opened the door and allowed Tyorin to enter first.

"Well Jurin, I haven't seen you around here for a while. How have things been going?" Jurin had instructed Tyorin long ago when they met to dispense with formalities when around him, he personally hated such things. He may have been Soban but he wasn't part of the military, he didn't need to be treated like he was.

Jurin himself was the top engineer at Sobanii Electronics and was the leader of the group that produced the software for the Sobanii Flight School. "I've been alright Tyorin; things have been proceeding smoothly around here. How about back home? How are things with your parents?"

Jurin took his seat behind the only desk in the small office. Tyorin took a seat in one of the two small, stiff chairs in front of the desk. The office was sparsely decorated and not to Tyorin's surprise was painted a pristine white, to match the chairs and desk no doubt. Tyorin rolled his mind's eye.

"Well, you know how that is…" Jurin had known of the problems between Tyorin and his parents since they'd met. It had partially been Jurin's fault that Tyorin was in the spot he was in now with his parents. Jurin was the one that introduced him to the training software that the Academy used. Though Tyorin never blamed him for it; it was of course, Tyorin's choice to accept the software as the gift that it was.

Tyorin continued for the next few minutes replaying the last few week's events with his parents to Jurin, ending with last night.

"Well that's no good." Jurin stated bluntly, twiddling a pencil in his fingers. "I'll assume that is the last thing you wanted to talk about so how about another question…" Jurin had been in-fact itching to ask Tyorin this next question for quite some time, "How have you been doing on your simulator exercises?" Jurin saw Tyorin's eyes light up and knew he had hit the correct button. Tyorin was in a bit of a stupor from recalling all the sad events back home over the past few weeks. Talking about something he enjoyed with someone else who really understood the mechanics involved was just what the doctor, or Jurin in this case, ordered.

For the better part of forty minutes, Tyorin recounted his simulation experiences with Jurin. Making notes on good points of the software and his own exploits.

Jurin had to put a hand up to stop Tyorin after he noted last night's record. "Tyorin, did you say you flew against eleven Triikors in an old Blade design…" he paused, recounting the facts, "...with no backup?"

"Yes." Tyorin assured him. He had numerous other things to talk about regarding the software and how the realism could be increased to help out pilots at the academy. C'mon Jurin, keep up…

However, Jurin was not thinking what Tyorin thought he was. "And Tyorin, how many Triikors did you take out before they got you?" Jurin's eyes boring into Tyorin's, looking for any indication of falsification. However, Jurin saw none and had always known Tyorin to be a painfully truthful person.

"I managed nine…" Tyorin replayed the last few seconds of the simulation back in his mind, "But just barely. The last one I think I just got lucky, getting enough hits in before the two following me got me." Tyorin thought again back to the simulation. "Yeah, that sounds about right, I got lucky on the last one. But I did have a solid eight kills." Tyorin noticed Jurin's expression, "Why?" His curiosity perked by his friend's seriousness.

"Tyorin, I have known many a pilot in my time. And I may not be part of the Sobanii military but I have many friends in high places. So let me be the first one to tell you that there is no such thing as luck when you are engaged in the middle of a bloody dogfight and nine of your comrades have already been torn to shreds. Seeing their bodies drift lifelessly through space." Jurin's voice faded off and his eyes glazed a bit.

Tyorin, shocked at Jurin's description of space battle, wondered at his friend's description of these events.

Jurin slowed his pencil fidgeting to a stop and inhaled deeply. "I don't know what you may have read about the Sobanii Flight Academy…" Jurin dropped the pencil he was playing with, seeming not to notice as it rolled onto the floor. "The best pilot ever produced by the Academy had a record of…"

"Six on one." Tyorin finished for him. "Right?"

"That is correct. However, there are a few technicalities that were left out of that report." Jurin scooted his chair back to lean forward and pick up his pencil.

"The six on one was actually one undamaged blade fighter against one undamaged Triikor, one moderately damaged Triikor, and four heavily damaged Triikors." Jurin pulled a drawer out of the desk and placed the pencil inside before continuing.

Tyorin remained shocked at the news just now reaching his ears. He knew he was way ahead of his training now.

Jurin continued, "The original engagement had been sixteen Triikors against ten Blades. The battle raged until all the blades had been destroyed save one, which was untouched even at that point." Tyorin listened as Jurin leaned back a bit in his chair.

"Don't take this as me saying the pilot wasn't good, getting that far without getting damaged is damn good. But," Jurin's eyes seemed to pass through Tyorin, "getting that far undamaged was mostly because his wingmen rolled constantly to take hits for him. Rolling into enemy weapons fire to save your wingman… to save your friend."

There is no greater love than a man who lays his life down for a friend. The old saying instantly flew into Tyorin's mind. Another specific point of the news clipping also came back to Tyorin's mind. Jurin however, put it to words for him.

"The best record of a pilot produced by the Academy." Jurin sighed. "Do you understand what that means Tyorin?"

Tyorin nodded his head, "That battle was real. The news said it took place in Hiigaran space about a week after the pilot had graduated. He went straight out to his first assignment and was only there for three days before that battle."

Tyorin had never seen this side of Jurin before. And while they had been in constant contact since they first met, they had never had a chance to get together and talk like this. And Tyorin always had the sinking feeling that there was something Jurin wasn't telling him when the topic of their discussions reached space combat.

Tyorin took the risk, "Jurin," he pulled up the rest of his question, "Who was that pilot?"

Jurin smiled, "His name was Jurin Kora Soban." He sighed again, "He gave up piloting two days after that battle. And hasn't touched a real flight stick since."

Tyorin had already put two and two together but hearing it still railed him.

Jurin leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desk. "I begged all of my friends from the academy to push for the same orders." His expression turned solemn again and his eyes looked past Tyorin once more, "I begged and pleaded with them and our superiors. And I got what I wished for." He inhaled, "We all went to the same carrier assignment. The Shurrien-Sha, sister fleet of the Ferrin-Sha. We were so proud and we bragged so much about getting assigned together to the primary carrier of the Shurrien-Sha."

He paused for a moment. "I'm sorry Jurin." Tyorin tried to console him but it was no use.

Jurin had hardened himself to the incident and would take no such pity. "We had no idea that ours was a death wish. But you have no reason to console me Tyorin, though I appreciate the sentiment."

He pulled his pencil back out of his drawer and took a deep breath before continuing, "Though I have not experienced it myself, I understand what you are going through at home. And if you wish to continue with your training and piloting career after hearing my story then your foundation is truly an unshakable one. And I can help you get into the Academy."

Tyorin's foundation sure had been shaken quite a bit, if not heavily rumbled. But he didn't lie to himself; it would take more than a good-story-gone-wrong to dissuade him. "How can you help me?"

Jurin smiled, "I'm glad that I haven't deterred you. If it were that easy it would've made me wonder why you didn't quit a long time ago." He pulled out a datapad from another drawer and started typing into it using the eraser of the pencil. "I won't be able to get you past any preliminary exams and such. And the medical exams you will have to pass yourself." He noticed Tyorin's raised eyebrow, "Nothing too spectacular," Jurin covered a fake sneeze, "Just your basic turn your head and cough stuff."

Tyorin shook his head as Jurin smiled. "But what I can do for you, is get you noticed. And believe me that much is huge. Especially for one who is so far from being a Soban as far as Kiith is concerned." Tyorin knew all-too-well what that meant; at least he thought he did. "The hardest thing about you getting into the Academy is that you are not a Soban." Jurin took another deep breath, preparing for the news he was about to give poor Tyorin.

"You will have to become a Soban to go to the Academy."

Tyorin's brain took a few extra seconds to mull over that chunk of information. Have to become a Soban? "Wait, you don't mean I will actually have to…" Tyorin started, but was unable to finish for himself.

Jurin finished for him, "That is correct; you will have to 'take the red'."

Elliay shot into his mind, "I can't just 'take the red'! Are you insane!" Tyorin leapt from his seat and slammed his hands down on Jurin's desk, raising his voice a few octaves.

"I'm sorry Tyorin, but unless you have the money to pay for it, you will have to join Kiith Soban to get into the academy." Jurin looked into Tyorin's frustrated eyes.

"Sajuuk… Damnit!" Tyorin screamed, throwing his backpack down, his helmet clattering away. "I was so Damn close!" He fell back into his chair.

"I'm sorry Tyorin, I really am." He did not flinch during Tyorin's tirade, but continued calmly, "A lot of things have changed in Kiith Soban since landfall." He looked at Tyorin, trying to meet his eyes. "Families are now allowed, Sobanii children are accepted now as well. All Kiith were hurt by the burning. Soban was no exception; our numbers dwindled as much as any other Kiith. And we were forced to survive, however if you want to go to a Sobanii run training school you have to be of Kiith Soban if you don't want to pay. That much, hasn't changed"

He looked back to his datapad and began typing away with the eraser again, "Trust me Tyorin," he let out a soft chuckle, "You do not want to pay." He chuckled a bit more.

Tyorin recovered himself, "Thanks for everything Jurin but I think I'm gonna have to pass on this one." Tyorin rubbed his face with his hands.

Jurin looked back to his young friend again, "Well, how about this. You can take out some of your frustration in the simulator here as soon as we're done here, the techs are just doing last minute checks. Then you can go home a little early if you like and discuss it with your family." Jurin thought to himself for a second, "Well, you can discuss it with your sister; I think that's who you were just thinking about right?"

How the hell does he know me so well? "Thanks Jurin, I think I'll do that." Tyorin stood, going to retrieve his backpack and helmet.

He picked up his helmet and tried to clip it back to the strap on his backpack. He looked back to Jurin, "What do we have going on in the simulator today?" Trying to change the subject.

Jurin caught on quickly and smiled, "We have a completely new Blade to test out." He perked one eye out from the datapad to observe Tyorin's reaction.

Tyorin's stopped what he was doing mid-step and dropped his helmet, it clattered away again. "What do you mean a new Blade?" He managed to turn his head enough to look into Jurin's eye.

"We finally got the design specs for the new model Blade fighter from the top Navy techs." He put his datapad down, "We've just finished putting it into rendered form. We have the controls built and everything is ready to go." He stood from his desk and walked around to come next to Tyorin. "And you are going to be the very first one to pilot it." He smiled and patted a stunned Tyorin on the shoulder, "Congrats." He stepped past Tyorin and left the office.

Tyorin didn't move, instead he continued to stare at Jurin's empty seat behind the desk.

Jurin stepped from the office and started shooing techs and engineers from the simulator; they were only performing triple-checks anyways. After ridding the machinery of its parasites he moved to the control room.

Nestled in the corner across from the office was the control room. It was only slightly larger than the office but instead of the office, it was lined with computer consoles and monitors. All of the walls above the computer screens were windows that allowed a clear view of the entire outer room.

Numerous techs filled the all the room's available seats and so Jurin was forced to stand. "What is Tyorin doing in that office?" He wondered aloud as he changed from searching the room for Tyorin to the large window that allowed outsiders to view the insides of the office.

He saw Tyorin still standing there, stupid kid… freaks out when I tell him what he has to do to get into the Academy, then not twenty seconds later he's freaked out even more about piloting a new fighter.

Closing his thoughts off, Jurin reached between two techs and picked up a microphone from a small stand that was wired to the wall. Jurin clipped the small mic' to his collar and started speaking but noticed that the sound was not being played throughout the room. He poured over the mic' stand until he found the 'on' switch and pushed it with his thumb, the two techs on either side of him shook their heads.

Jurin ignored the techs and spoke into the mic, "Tyorin, if you would be so kind as to wake up and get out of that office." Jurin's voice boomed through the simulator room, echoing into the office and making Tyorin jump.

Tyorin looked around himself, obviously having forgotten where he was. He eventually turned his head to the window and saw Jurin standing in the control room, smiling. He pointed to Tyorin then to the simulator, motioning for him to get in.

Me? Tyorin pointed back at himself and mouthed the word through the window, still stunned at what he had been told a few minutes before. He wasn't sure who Jurin was talking to.

Abandoning hand motions Jurin shook his head violently and reverted back to the microphone, "Yes you…" He spoke loudly.

Tyorin jumped again and put on a guilty face. Fine! I'll go… Tyorin thought to himself as he pulled off his jacket and hung it over the chair he had been seated in. He walked from the office and stepped to the simulator, circled it once, then looked to the tech room, pleading with Jurin through the glass.

Jurin nodded to a tech seated to his left and a small hissing noise filled the room as the forward, top section of the sphere lifted upwards from a forward hinge. Tyorin made his way to the opening. Upon climbing up the hydraulic arms to the hatch, he caught his first glimpse inside the simulator. And in turn was the first to look at the prototype cockpit setup of the new Blade fighter.

Sweet… passed through his mind as he put one leg in and followed with a hand, the single foothold in the sphere was the only place to step when trying to reach the flight seat.

Finally falling into the seat face-first, Tyorin righted himself and settled himself in the cockpit. There were two foot pedals to each foot; Tyorin instinctively set each of his feet on the inner pedal.

He looked to his left hand. Sitting back in the seat; a sleek, silver and black throttle handle was just in his reach. Small 'hat'-switches covered its surface just in reach of each of his fingers. Numerous other buttons covered every other part of the handle, each one glowed an eerie baby-blue through the transparent material of the buttons.

Tyorin looked to his right hand this time and a single, equally sleek flight stick was also just within his reach. Three 'hat'-switches controlled the top of which. In between the switches was a small, clear plastic cover which protected a large blue button covered with a small red crosshair. The word 'safe' was typed into the safety flap.

Tyorin slid his hand onto the throttle and rolled his fingers onto the control stick. The smooth metal cooled his hands and quickly matched temperature as he held them. The fluid curves of the throttle and control stick fit into his hands perfectly.

Tyorin wanted to continue admiring the craftsmanship of the controls but as soon as he touched the control staff, the hatch slid shut with a soft hiss and the blue glow of the buttons filled the cockpit. Lights began flickering on from behind the flight seat and washed forward along the control panels that followed each of Tyorin's arms. Dark blue filled the cockpit as the main screens booted, drowning Tyorin in a sea of stars.

Uber Sweet… Flew through Tyorin's mind as the stars winked at him from every possible direction. He moved the control stick a bit and his view swung to meet his orders. The stick was extremely sensitive and its own movements from the pad it hooked into flowed like water.

He pushed the throttle forward and felt it click once softly as it moved out of the neutral position into the forward thrust position. He pulled it back slowly again, feeling the click once more as it returned to the neutral position, then feeling the soft click yet again as it moved into a reverse thrust position.

"Oh, Sajuuk, I'm gonna lose it…" Tyorin moaned to himself under his breath, feeling as though he was in the cockpit of a brand new Blade fighter.

"How does it feel?" Jurin's voice came in through the speakers, a slightly mechanical ring accented his voice.

"I think I'm gonna have to change my pants." Tyorin replied almost breathlessly, still running his hands over the controls, making more movements with the control stick and throttle.

Jurin laughed out into the microphone, "I thought you would say something like that." Tyorin could hear the muffle as Jurin placed his hand over the microphone. He could hear voices in the background before Jurin came back on, "Okay Tyorin, lets get started…"

They may need to get started… Tyorin mused to himself.

"…I don't need to explain too many of the controls to you. You have obviously found the throttle and primary flight staff." Jurin droned on, "You can control most of the fighter's basic functions through the throttle and control staff; everything is there at your fingertips." More muffled voices. "All the controls regarding the hull cameras and engines, plus some extras we won't go over now, are installed into the throttle handle. Everything regarding targeting and weapons, including radar, is there on the flight staff."

"Yeah I found all that already." Tyorin nearly cut in, switching his corner camera view to various points and angles all around him. He also fidgeted slightly with his radar, zooming in on the surrounding space and bringing it into a three-dimensional view directly between his knees. Whoa…

"Alright, alright…" Jurin replied, "I guess you're way ahead of us. Okay then, we're loading the primary diagnostics and logic systems for the fighter. A 3-D model should come up shortly. Feel free to look over the information for a few minutes." Jurin motioned to a tech behind him to start the upload. At which the tech whirred around in his seat and began typing madly into the console in front of him.

Information and specs flooded the primary screen in front of Tyorin and he could barely keep up. A three dimensional view of the Blade finally did appear in front of Tyorin where the radar used to be.

The Cockpit was slightly off-centered in between two forward sweeping 'arms' which housed what seemed to Tyorin to be two identical, very large, fusion engines. He spoke up, "Hey Jurin, it says here that it's equipped with dual fusion engines…"

"Yes, and?" This was the second of two reasons Jurin wanted Tyorin to do the simulator test of the new fighter. The kid knew his stuff, technical and skill-wise. Skill-wise, of course, being the primary reason he wanted him in the cockpit.

"No more plasma?" Tyorin asked himself as he read on about the engines. Holy Crap! "They do use plasma! There is a limited store in the engines but…" He read on, narrating his findings to himself. Jurin rolled his eyes; knowing all about it already.

"The large intakes on the underside of the fighter force small particles into the engines and the mass is combined with the plasma already stored there, creating more plasma!" Tyorin was throttled by the level of technology these new fighters would use. "The excess plasma is then forced out of the vents in tiny pressurized amounts." Tyorin stopped reading to put the pieces together for himself.

"Otherwise known as a Fusion Plasma Pulse Drive. A little bit different than your standard fusion drive." Jurin knew what Tyorin was thinking, "So no, there is no fuel consumption."

"By Kharak…" Tyorin kept reading, "This is insane…" His eyes crossed a familiar acronym as they quickly scanned the information. "A PDA!"

Jurin didn't wait for Tyorin to read more, he was beginning to grow bored by narrating information he already knew. "Yes, a small amount of the drive plasma is input into the smallest PDA system the Hiigaran Navy has developed. It gets just enough materials from the intakes and drive plasma to produce ammunition and small concussion missiles."

Tyorin read a few other interesting terms under the PDA category, "Plasma Lance Rounds? Concussion missiles?"

"Plasma Lance Rounds are the primary ammunition produced by the PDA for the fighter, which eliminates the danger of explosive ammunition stores." Jurin rolled his eyes and continued his dull speech into the microphone, "And Concussion missiles are a secondary weapon produced by the PDA only one at a time. They are small, fast and maneuverable, and they can add that extra little punch you may need in a dogfight."

"They pack more than enough force to take out any small fighters you may encounter. We are currently working on an advanced missile for punching through corvette armour or possibly even frigate armour but I wouldn't hold my breath." Jurin turned behind him again and patted the tech there on the back. The tech looked at him and Jurin waved his hand quickly in front of his throat, signaling for the tech to cut the information input.

"I guess I won't be holding my breath then…" Tyorin replied mindlessly as he continued scanning the words.

"Are you ready to start yet Tyorin?" Jurin sounded as if he was getting impatient. He was quite anxious to see what Tyorin could do with the flight controls of the Blade X-52.

"Yeah, yeah let's get started…" Tyorin pulled his eyes from the words as he finished up a note about small plasma maneuvering vents in the tips of the wings. I was wondering why a fighter would need wings in space… "Guess you guys took a hint from the Taiidani Triikors." Tyorin mumbled to himself as he sat back in the flight seat and wrapped his fingers around the smooth metal of the throttle and flight stick.

"What was that Tyorin?" Jurin asked as he leaned over a tech and typed into the console, an annoyed look spread on the tech's face.

"Nothing, don't worry about it." Tyorin exhaled slowly, "How about getting this thing started?"

"I'm working on it Tyorin." Jurin however was already perfectly prepared to start the simulation.

"What's the holdup?" Tyorin called impatiently from the cockpit.

Jurin stood straight again. Just getting you noticed… Jurin thought to himself as the simulation was engaged.

Tyorin looked to his front as the information readouts were replaced with a squadron of twelve Triikors flying toward him in a 'Claw' formation.

Tyorin looked at the incoming force and tightened his grip on the controls. He exhaled slowly before drawing in a deep breath, "Lets see what my Blade is made of."

Then he slammed the throttle forward.