COUNTERPOINT
CHAPTER 2: THE PILOT
PART 2
By Mayavan Thevendra
"Yeah! I'm here, God damn it!"
It could well have been the first time since the very beginning of the year that Kimiko wasn't late for a roll call.
She had been jittery the night before; after her chat with Vice Principal Buxton, she had gone straight back to her quarters to turn in, and must have lain in bed for a full hour, before sleep finally took her. Kimiko had risen well before her roommates, who lay as huddled lumps under their blankets as she darted around the room in the dark, frantically washing and dressing. They were still asleep by the time she bolted out of the door, and started off along the length of the ship towards the transport hangar. Despite her fears, however, she hadn't missed a thing.
Kimiko's bobbed, black hair was still wet from her morning shower, and as she waggled a finger in her ear, the eighty students inside the hangar were divided up amongst the four shuttles. The darkness of the hangar was striped with luminous markings and hazard bars along the floor and sides, and all around, the dull rumble of the Guiding Hand's engines could be both heard and felt. Students jostled and pushed to be grouped with friends; Kimiko had no need to, for fairly obvious reasons.
With the roll call taken, and all of the students allocated, the members of staff moved up to the sides of the shuttles, and boarding began. In slow, chattering queues, the flight cadets filed onto their designated craft, and were followed in by the two members of staff accompanying each shuttle. As the pilots ran their pre-flight checks with the Guiding Hand's flight control, the students buckled themselves in, the staff members carefully checking that all students were present, and secured in their seat.
Kimiko sat fastened in place, and stared out of her view port. The air was busy with conversation, and the whine of the engines buzzed through the cabin. Mr. Laswell, an aeronautics lecturer, and one of the staff members aboard Kimiko's shuttle, had already walked past, checking that all was well, and had settled into his seat at the front. Laswell was one of those tutors aboard the Guiding Hand who, rather than actively disliking Kimiko, simply didn't know who she was: having missed all but one of his lectures, she was more or less a complete stranger to him. To Kimiko's delight, the other member of staff was Carol Buxton. The Vice Principal, herself an accomplished pilot, had been unwilling to pass up the chance to see some real flying for a change, instead of computer generated images in the simulator. Looking across the dark interior of the cabin, Carol made a last check, and buckled herself in; switching on the intercom to the cockpit, she gave the all clear.
A tight hiss spat through the cabin, as pressure seals enclosed the passengers from the surrounding air. Silence fell; bright flashes lit up the darkness of the hangar, signalling the imminent depressurisation, alarms around the bay blared silently, their sound repulsed by the vacuum seal. A minute passed. Voices whispered and giggled, and Kimiko peered out, squinting across at the other three shuttles. Suddenly, the whine returned, now felt more than heard, and the shuttle rocked as the Guiding Hand's hangar door was pulled open. Before Kimiko even managed to look out through the opening, the cabin shook, as engines throbbed and pulsed. With a groan, the shuttle shimmied upwards, and swung around to face the doors. A moment passed. Kimiko saw a yellow flare as the shuttle in front started on it's way out; an instant later, and the whole cabin quaked with thunder as the shuttle threw a half burn, and tore out of the hangar.
The cadets yelled and whistled as the endless expanse of outer space washed over them. All around, glinting in the sun, were the myriad of frigates and cruisers that made up the fleet, some twenty ships in all. Kimiko was speechless. She had sat in the observatory for hours sometimes, just watching the other vessels, but it was never like this. Now she was moving, gliding, soaring. As the shuttle pilots weaved between the lumbering cruisers, she stared outwards. Stars and distant nebulas swung and rolled; the grey bodies of the other ships bobbed and drifted. The shuttles snaked a course outwards to the wing of the convoy, and bringing about, they formed up one above the other, and held speed with the fleet.
After a few moments, Carol leaned back over her seat and spoke to the group.
"They'll be coming over from the 'Time's Gift', over there." she said, pointing away towards the fleet's fighter carrier, a hulking giant of a vessel. "Should be any minute now."
With eyes wide, the students waited, scanning across the carrier's flank for any sign of the demonstration fighters. A quiet message came through to Carol's intercom from the cockpit.
"Here they come." She said, and quickly after, the com signal of the demonstrators sounded through the cabin.
"This is Badger leader to shuttle group Gamma, we are en route to your location, E.T.A thirty seconds. Just sit back and enjoy the show."
Suddenly, they appeared. Six flashes of light looped around from the carrier's underside, and rode upwards, growing larger as they drew near. The students gasped as the shapes came into clear view; the crooked "T" of the CF/A-17G 'Wraith' was a sight no confederate pilot could mistake. The flight group drew up from the midst of the convoy, and at breakneck speed, shot over the heads of the shuttles, rattling fixtures and shaking the cabin as they did so. The gleeful students peered desperately from one side to the other, as the fighter group broke apart, and began their manoeuvres.
"Okay," said Carol, "everyone stay in your seats, you'll be able to see perfectly well without having to get up."
The fighters broke into three groups of two, and engaged in mock dogfights, in each pair a target, and an attacker. Carol looked out of her view port, and began to talk the students through the fighters' motions.
"Now, this first exercise is to show you some standard evasion procedures. Keep your eyes on the target fighter in each of the pairings. Remember that there's no obstacles out here, no asteroids or derelict vessels, and they're being careful not to use our shuttles as manoeuvring points; so with no obstacles to help, they've got to use every inch of their fighter's turning rate to get out of a lock."
Kimiko watched one of the target fighters above roll into a dive, before it rocketed down, and past the shuttle, it's pursuer following on a mere instant behind. She was mesmerised. It was a cosmic dance; a deadly ballet as one pilot attempted to outfox the other.
"Okay now, two of the groups are going to pair up against each other to show a little cooperative flying. As each of you well know, learning to work with your wingman is one of the most important skills you have to learn."
While one of the pairs continued on with their engagement, the other four divided into two pairs, before each pair made a wide circle around, putting some fifty kilometres of space between them, and then rushed in. The fighters jinked and weaved on their approach, sidestepping invisible cannon fire, before splitting up and going one on one.
"The difference here, to what they were doing before," said Carol, "is that now each of them has a wingman to worry about besides themselves. One strong tactic is to shake off your attacker…or your target, long enough to pair up against his wingman. Once he's been taken out, you go after the other one. Not as easy as it sounds, as you can probably guess."
Some five kilometres off the shuttle's port side, the fighters spiralled, never flying in a straight line for more than a second. One of the pursuers broke away from his target, to engage that of his wingman, hoping to acquire a quick lock, but their mock prey proved too canny for them. Seeing his second opponent attack, he swung around, closing the distance between them, preventing his attacker from gaining a missile lock. As they hurtled past each other, the second "hunted" fighter darted back into the fray, catching his wingman's original attacker unawares. A bright signal flash from the fighter's nose indicated a missile launch. If they had been using real ordnance, a pair of AIM-41 Gemini missiles would have covered the distance between the two fighters in about a second and a half, and would have most likely ripped through the fighter's hull, crippling it. The beaten Wraith pilot stood down, while his now solitary wingman attempted to evade his attackers.
"Man, that guy is so dead!" Said Danny Blacklock, one of the students.
"Don't be so sure," replied Carol, "two against one are usually pretty bad odds, but they're not unbeatable."
As the students looked on, the lone Wraith twisted this way and that, and while one of his pursuers stayed on his tail, the other circled around to acquire a lock. While the fighters continued their melee, Carol continued her commentary.
"Now look at that, he's evading a missile lock by keeping the attacker on his tail in between himself and the other fighter; as long as that fighter's in between them, the other pilot's going to have a hell of a time trying to lock on."
In a surprise move, the hunted Wraith snaked back around, managing to shake off the fighter on his tail for a brief instant, while he curved back and rocketed towards the other enemy Wraith. Signal lights on the craft's wings flashed rapidly, indicating a burst of cannon fire. The simulation computers on board the fighters calculated the probable damage; although the second Wraith had been hit several times, it was still in the fight. The two fighters pulled up simultaneously, entering a parallel climb, while the other enemy Wraith drew in. His targeting computer locked on, and another indicator flash signalled a successful missile launch, and the end of the combat.
"Ha! I told you!" Howled Danny.
Carol looked back, and gave a smile.
"Yeah, okay, but he did put up a good fight. What you have to remember, is that it's not just about flying out there, it's about how you think, how you feel. If you find yourself on your own, with no wingmen, and outnumbered, you've got to be able to keep yourself together, to try and use your situation to your advantage. Flying is never just about one pilot and a fighter, and it's not just about your wingmen; this isn't something you're going to understand until you've gotten out there and racked up some more experience, and maybe not until you've joined a squadron, but flying is about feeling your way through a situation. It's about instinct; it's about control, of your mind, as well as your craft."
The students listened, not fully understanding, but enthralled nonetheless, and eager to learn more; such was Carol's gift. She was one of the few members of staff that Kimiko had ever met who could truly be described as a teacher, and not simply a tutor.
At that moment, the voices of one of the demonstration pilots returned across the cabin speaker.
"This is Badger leader, hope you enjoyed that first little act, but we're just getting started..."
The fighters formed up, and continued on with their manoeuvres; next on the agenda was formation flying, and the shuttle passengers looked on as the Wraiths demonstrated a series of combat and escort flying patterns.
Kimiko continued watching, unable to tear her eyes away, while a few of the other cadets voiced their opinions to each other.
"They were on the front line, huh? How many kills d'you think they've had?" whispered one student.
"How should I know? Probably a few, they look pretty good. Man, did you see when that guy over there, Badger three, I think, did you see him barrel roll past the guy on his wingman's tail to throw him off?"
"Yeah, I saw that!" said another, "I swear, I thought he was gonna crash right into him!"
"Yeah, these guys are definitely good." Said Danny Blacklock, staring out of the view port at his newest idols.
"Huh. I don't think they're that good."
The voice was that of Valerie Mailer. The students had been decidedly impressed by the show of the Wraith pilots, and under most circumstances a comment such as that would have met with some argument. But Valerie Mailer had said it; and nobody argued with Valerie.
Most students on the Guiding Hand agreed that if any cadet were destined for greatness, it was Valerie Mailer. She had a consistent grade A average, had spent more time logged onto the simulator than any of the other cadets, and had one of the highest number of training kills in the entire fleet. Outside of class, and for someone who did as well in assessments as she did, she was uncommonly popular. As was the case with many girls of Valerie's nature, she had her very own clique; a small but unwavering group of friends, a few of whom were on the shuttle with her now. Each one was a promising cadet themselves, each one a worthy addition to the 'elite' group that was the bane or envy of most of the cadets aboard the Guiding Hand.
Kimiko was one of those few students who paid little attention to Valerie and her gang; but having bore the brunt of a fair few of Valerie's scathing taunts, she felt obliged to defend herself when the need arose. As a result, and as was expected, Valerie Mailer and Kimiko Satomi were not the best of friends.
Kimiko had heard Valerie's remark, and perked her ear to listen in.
"Aw, come on Val, you don't think they're good? I mean, look at them..." Said Danny, feeling compelled to defend the pilots.
" I am, you idiot. If they're so good, why are they here doing a stupid air show, instead of fighting the enemy?"
"It's like Miss Buxton said, they're on their recovery tour." replied Danny.
"Well, I think if they had been actually fighting out there," sneered Valerie, "then they'd be doing what most pilots do on their recovery tour: recovering. They probably spent their engagement tours guarding freighters and clearing asteroids. I mean look at them; I bet it's all for show. I bet they haven't got ten kills between them."
Kimiko was having far too good a time to want to sully it by entering into a petty squabble, but even so, her rogue's tongue was having a hard time sitting still. It almost got the better of her; she was about to make a rather distasteful reply to Valerie's comment, but held it back at the last moment, and shook her head, a quiet "pff" the only sound to leave her lips. It was enough however, to catch the attention of Ted Warwick, one of Valerie's entourage.
"Hey Val," he scoffed, "I think Satomi's got something to add."
Valerie leered over the back of her seat, and looked over at Kimiko.
"Oh is that so? Well come on, Satomi, let's hear it. Let's hear what the fleet's hardest working jackass has to say about these flying goons!"
"Jesus Christ, Mailer," said Kimiko, turning to face her, "you don't seriously think you're a better pilot than them, do you?"
"Of course I don't, you moron, I'm only a cadet! But if I'd been flying as long as they have, if I had their experience, I'd wipe the floor with any one of them!"
As conceited as Valerie was, Kimiko knew that she was probably right. Valerie was easily one of the most talented cadets in the fleet; her blatant arrogance made it harder to accept, but it was a plain fact nonetheless. Of course, being wrong had never stopped Kimiko from arguing before.
"Oh yeah?" she said, grinning, "How would you do that? Wait for'em to get close, and then breathe on them?"
"What?" snapped Valerie.
"Oh, haven't you heard what people've been calling you? Started right after Ben Davich blabbed to an entire classroom about his makeout session with you. I think he said something like 'felt nice, shame about the smell' or something."
"Guh, what?"
"After that, somebody nicknamed you 'buttbreath', and it just kinda stuck!"
Some hushed giggling from the other students.
"You little..."
"No! Wait!" announced Kimiko, "I know what you'd do! You'd wait until they got really close, and I mean really close, and then you'd flash your tits at them, then just wait for'em to crash while they laughed uncontrollably!"
As the cadets seated around her broke into laughter, Valerie spat back her vicious reply.
"You little bitch! At least I'm not a no-talent dumbass freak! Everybody knows it, Satomi! Everybody knows you're on your way out of here! Two years of training, and it'll all be for nothing; d'you know what that is, Satomi? It's called being a failure!"
"I'd rather be a failure than a floozy, 'buttbreath'!"
"Shut up!" yelled Valerie.
By this time, the argument had drawn Carol's attention; she leaned into the aisle, and peered backwards.
"Hey!" she shouted, "What's going on?"
The giggling stopped, and Valerie and Kimiko stared dourly out of their view ports.
"Well then," said Carol, "if you're quite finished, there are some pilots out there who you might be interested in watching."
Kimiko and Valerie flashed icy glares at one another, before returning their attention to the display. More than a little agitated that Valerie seemed to want to ruin the highlight of the academic year, Kimiko tried to shrug it off, and lose herself in the graceful motion of the Wraiths.
"All right, they've completed their formations," said Carol, "next they're going to show us some-"
Carol stopped mid-sentence as a message from one of the shuttle's pilots came through to her intercom. After a few words, Carol told the pilot to hold on, while she put on her headphones. Obviously something was up; it was a message that Carol didn't want the students to overhear, which immediately caught Kimiko's interest.
Unbeknownst to any of the tutors, Kimiko had fairly recently managed to determine the command channel frequency for the shuttles' intercom systems. Ordinarily of little use, since the channel was used primarily for the tutors to communicate with their shuttle's pilots, it did occasionally come in handy. Very discreetly, Kimiko switched on the intercom panel on the bulkhead next to her seat, and keyed in the command frequency. Then, bending forward slightly, she pulled out the thin headphones from their compartment, and held them to one ear.
"What's their location?" The voice was Carol's, and it was uncharacteristically tense. A scratchy reply came through from the cockpit.
"They're about two thousand kliks dead ahead of us. Sensors aboard the Stylus Verda have confirmed contact, they've already patched a line through to Fleet Commander Bannister on the Saint Elizabeth."
"Can we listen in?" asked Carol.
"Hang on."
Kimiko waited for a moment, peering quickly around to make sure no one could see her; fortunately, Valerie was content for the moment to stare angrily out of her view port. Overlooked by the others, Kimiko continued listening, and heard the hurried conversation between Fleet Commander Dominick Bannister and the frantic voice of an unidentified man.
"I repeat," Said Bannister, "we are not equipped to assist, we are a training fleet, I say again, a training fleet!"
"What?" came a voice shot through with panic, "You've, you've got to have ships, though? We have to dock! They're right on our fuckin' tails!"
"Negative! We have a minimal complement of armed vessels, and only a handful of qualified pilots! What happened to the 58th holding fleet? They should have been your backup on the front line, what hap-"
"Dammit, they're dead! I told you, the front line's collapsed at Muras Phyriad! There's a big fucking hole in the blockade, and those bastards are flying through it, we are on full retreat!"
"For God's sake, don't lead them back to us! We don't have the firepow-"
"Shit, they're right on us, they-"
The man's words were cut short, as the line was severed. Kimiko stared blankly out of her view port, her jaw wide open. Glancing to the front of the cabin, she saw the back of Carol's head; she appeared to be sitting quite still, one hand over the receiver on her ear. Kimiko's chest went tight as a sudden dread filled her, and she was about to call out to Carol, when she heard her voice in her earpiece.
"Oh God. Get us back to the Guiding Hand now."
"Got it, we're on our way."
Even as the pilot finished speaking, a flickering light caught Kimiko's eye. One of the demonstration fighters was flying in a wide circle, when suddenly, it faltered; for an instant, the craft shook violently as if being shaken. Kimiko, and every other occupant of the shuttle watched in shock as the fighter erupted into a whirling fireball. It carried on like a flaming comet, trailing scorched wreckage and debris. Then the cabin shook: first softly, and almost unnoticeably. And then it shook again. It shook with such violent force that it knocked several of the students unconscious. The universe became a fierce haze as the shuttle trembled. Away off to the side of the shuttle, space exploded silently; and then again, and again. The air filled with the sound of screaming.
"What's happening?" screeched one of the students.
As terror enveloped the shuttle's passengers, Carol yelled into her intercom.
"Get the blast shields down, now!"
Thick sheets of reinforced plasteel slid down over each view port, shutting the panicked cadets off from the horror outside, but the nightmare continued. Jolt after jolt was delivered into the blacked out cabin, and beneath them, the engines shuddered with terrible force.
Above the din of terrified children, Carol's voice screamed out.
"Everybody! Put your heads between your knees!"
Kimiko hugged her legs, and stared down into the darkness at her feet. Sound tore through her ears, and as a deafening crash exploded through the shuttle's berth, she fell into blackness.