Pilot Country

The lift quickly sped them to the Rec Deck.

"Why would the CAG want us to meet her in Pilot Country?" asked Chameleon.

Before anyone could answer, Midnight spoke, "That is where all the simulators are. She wants to see what kind of pilots we really are. The simulators will tell her, and the Commodore." The doors to the lift opened with a whisper and directly across from them was a hand painted sign. It read: Welcome to Pilot Country, Enter at Your Own Risk!

"My kind of place," said Waborita.

"Mine, too," said Tracer.

Rapier grabbed Midnight by the arm as they were leaving the lift. "Get this ship's specs on the Cobra," he said. "If the CAG truly means to test us in the simulators, I want to make sure that they are not running with the outdated, pre-upgrade, info."

"Gotcha," replied Midnight with a subtle nod.

They walked in like they owned the place and looked around. It was bigger than Pilot Country on most ships. Its bar was longer, it had more tables, and a lot more simulators. This place was meant for serious steam blowing. They searched the area for Drake and when they didn't find her they all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Midnight slipped off to look at the tactical display, Princess, Bitch, and Tracer went to look at the Kill Board, Waborita and Chameleon went to the bar, and Rapier headed for the middle of the room.

Midnight frowned at what he saw on the tactical display. The information in the database on the Cobras was dangerously outdated. Silently he moved off to inform Rapier.

Chameleon sat down at a barstool and rested her arms on the bar. Waborita walked around the bar, looked into the mirror behind the bar, and brought up two shot glasses. He looked about for a moment and then swiftly drew a hip flask from one of his pockets. He poured some of the contents into the shot glasses and set them by the mirror.

"What's all that about?" asked Chameleon.

"That's the Drink For the Dead," replied Waborita. "The first one is for all the pilots who have died before now, and the second is for all those who are going to die."

A pair of hands casually rubbed Chameleon's shoulders. Chamelon arched her shoulders and her eyes rolled back in pleasure. Waborita looked on amused. The owner of the hands then sat down next to Chameleon, who turned her head to look at who had joined them. "Hello," the person said. "Ah, the Drink For the Dead. I know that one all too well. Oh, where are my manners? Welcome to the Palau! I'm Major Max Garrett, better known as…"

"The Maestro!" interrupted Waborita.

"Oh you know me?" asked Maestro.

"Only by reputation," said Waborita. "You're the guy who wrote the cadet tech manual on how to pickle your own liver."

"That's me!" said Maestro holding out his hand.

"Pleasure to meet such a legend," said Waborita taking his hand and shaking it. "I'm Lt. Baker, but you can call me Waborita, or Wabo for short. And this lovely young lady is Lt. Pepper, better known as the Chameleon. We're two of the pilots in Omega Squadron."

"It is my profound pleasure to meet you both," said Maestro, who then looked at Chameleon and smiled. Chameleon smiled back at him and gave him a playful wink. After a few seconds of silent flirting, Maestro returned his attention to Waborita. "Tell me, Wabo, do you know how to make your name?"

"They wouldn't call me Waborita if I didn't."

"I am your humble servant," Maestro said, making a bowing motion.

Bitch and Princess were reading the names on the Kill Board. There were three squadrons listed. The first was the Diamondback Squadron, the second was the Black Widow Squadron, and the last was Omega Squadron. In all there were 67 pilots aboard. Tracer licked his chops as he eyed the top spot on the Kill Board.

Rapier was not happy about the news Midnight had given him. He motioned to Bitch to come over so that he could give her the bad news.

"It would seem that we have more knowledge about our own ships than even the CAG," he began.

"Don't tell me," said Bitch. "How outdated is it?"

"Very," said Midnight. "The specs in the tactical display go back to before the Cobra got the booster pack upgrade."

"That's just wonderful," Bitch said in disgust. "Shit."

"Shit is right," said Rapier. "Midnight, check the simulators, see if they're just as outdated. Bitch, tell Princess and Tracer the bad news. I'll handle Wabo and Chameleon."

"Right," said Bitch as she walked off.

Midnight just nodded silently and then quickly and quietly slipped into the closest empty simulator.

A few minutes later, Drake walked in with Maniac on her heels. The familiar "Officer on the deck!" was heard from one of the pilots closest to the door.

Everyone snapped to attention. Midnight slowly slid from the simulator and stood at attention.

"As you were," said Maniac.

Everyone relaxed and went back to what they were doing. Drake walked over to the simulators with Maniac. "Omega Squadron!" she barked. "Front and center!"

The members of Omega Squadron assembled from the various points in Pilot Country and stood at attention in front of Drake and Maniac. "So these are the newest ple…I mean rookies," he said. "Which one of you is the Wing Commander?"

"Sir, I am, sir," said Rapier.

Maniac walked over to Rapier and looked him in the face. "Welcome to the Palau," Maniac said and held out his hand.

"Thank you, sir," Rapier said shaking the Commodore's hand.

"Well," began Drake. "Now that introductions have been completed, why don't you all step into the simulators and show us what you've got?"

"Begging the CAG's pardon," interrupted Midnight.

"Here we go," said Bitch under her breath. Rapier silenced her with a glare.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" asked Drake. "Is there a problem with my order?"

"Permission to speak freely and candidly, ma'am," said Midnight.

"Always," Maniac interrupted, which elicited a silent curse from Drake.

"With all due respect," began Midnight. "The tactical data that you have on the Cobra Class fighter is obsolete in both your simulators and tactical database. Thus, we cannot fully show you our skills if the simulators are inaccurate."

This had Maniac's interest piqued. "Explain what you mean, Lieutenant," he said as he moved over in front of Midnight and looked him in the face.

Midnight looked to Rapier and Rapier just shrugged. Returning his gaze to Maniac, Midnight closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began, "A Cobra Class fighter no longer has mass drivers, but instead two ion cannons. It also now has four laser cannons instead of two. A 3000 round Stormfire gun has also been added in addition to four multi-target missiles."

"Is that all?" asked Maniac, who sounded like he was getting flustered.

"No, sir."

"Continue."

"It also carries not eight, but ten friend-or-foe missiles, and eight, not six, infrared missiles. In addition…"

"There's still more?" interrupted Maniac.

"Yes, sir," said Midnight.

"What else?"

"Its maximum throttle speed is 675 meters per second, not 600. The maximum afterburner speed is 1450 meters per second, not 1275. And it has the ability to mount two booster packs in place of the multi-target missiles so that it can be used as an interceptor. The booster packs give it a 3,500 meters per second maximum speed."

"Anything else?"

"No, sir. I'm done."

Drake looked extremely pissed. "Do you have any means of backing up these statements, Lieutenant?" she said. Rapier was not fond of the way she was referring to him by his rank, as if it might change at any moment. He felt the need to interject.

"Commander and Commodore," he interrupted. Both Drake and Maniac looked at him. "The proof of his statements is sitting in the fighter bay. With your permission, I will happily show the both of you that he is correct."

"Please do, Lieutenant," said Drake as she motioned to the door.

"Right away, ma'am," said Rapier.

With that, Drake, Maniac, and Rapier all went to the fighter bay so that Rapier could prove that Midnight was telling the truth. There was silence in Pilot Country. Everyone had heard what Midnight said. A few people shook their heads as if some great sin had been committed.

About fifteen minutes later, Rapier, Drake, and Maniac came back in. Drake walked right up to Midnight. "It would appear, Lieutenant," she began. "That our tactical database is a bit outdated. You were correct on every detail. Therefore, beginning at 0700 tomorrow morning, you and the Chief Maintenance Technician will go about updating our technical data. Once that has been done, then you will all show us what you can do. Am I understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Midnight.

"Very well," said Drake. "Carry on."

With that, Drake turned about and walked right out of Pilot Country. Silence still filled the air. Then, with no warning, all the pilots let out a loud cheer. Maniac just smiled, gave Midnight the thumbs up signal, and walked out. Rapier and Midnight shook hands, let out a mutual sigh of relief, and headed for the bar. Waborita stepped back behind the bar and produced a rectangular bottle. He set up seven shot glasses with the omega letter on it and poured the bottle. Each member of the Omega Squadron took their shot glass and Waborita proposed a toast. "To Midnight and Rapier," he said. "Pilots with more balls than brains!" Everyone in Pilot Country tossed back their drinks.

Maestro walked up and patted both Midnight and Rapier on the shoulder and said, "You guys are gonna fit right in here with us."

To be continued…