James, and his excited passengers entered the lobby of the 'Xtreme Xperience' early in the morning just three days after his and Tracey's arrival. Harold had managed to move the reservation up, and James had provided the required funds to add two additional seats. They approached the check in counter where a calm looking secretary was studying a terminal. She looked up and smiled at the group.
"Welcome to Xtreme Xperience. Do you have a booking?"
"We certainly do," James replied smoothly, handing the document over.
She quickly read through it and then looked back up. "This is all in order. May I see your license?"
James handed her that as well and waited as she entered the information into her system. She blinked in surprise.
"This can't be right."
"It is. 12,000 hours."
"Wow. Give me just a moment." James frowned in concern as she stood and hurried off to an office near the back of the lobby. Less than five minutes later, she returned with a man in a sharp suit and blood red tie.
"So sorry for the wait," the secretary announced. "Mr. Fergeson will take care of you."
"Right this way," Fergeson added.
"Is everything okay?" James asked.
"More than okay. You're just a bit more qualified than our usual clientele and I wanted to discuss some possible options to improve your experience."
James grinned, hoping he knew where this was going. "I'm happy to hear it!"
They followed the man into his luxurious office, and sat in comfortable chairs positioned artistically throughout.
"Now. Let's get down to business. You have more than 12,000 active flight hours, with more than 9,000 of them solo time. That is an impressive resume Mr. Derringer. Says here you've flown everything from military transports, to sport jets. You've logged an impressive 6,000 hours in a high performance private cruiser? The Caelum. Am I reading that name right?"
James nodded. "And I just enjoy flying. I always have. Whenever an opportunity to attend a flight exercise cropped up, I took it. I spent more time with a joystick in my hand than a rifle. Till I got out anyway." It was hard to believe he'd once feared predators that were so far beneath him.
"I can see that… My word… A black hole? You actually moved within the orbital path of an active black hole?"
James grinned. "I went through a thrill seeker phase."
"I can see that. Well. That pretty much settles things. Firstly, you've already purchased our highest official package. Four seats. Active controls. Full course. However, we're in a transition phase. Every few years, we update the automated pilot's programming to improve safety and the enjoyability of the experience. We bring in experienced pilots such as yourself and run them through a series of exercises. This time however, corporate wants to experiment with a new package. They want a full simulated dogfight. Full Gs. Fast jets. Pyrotechnics. The whole thing is terribly ambitious. But I'm confident our engineers can pull it off. That's where you come in. If you're willing to wait a few hours, we can get a few of our contracted pilots in, and draw up a plan for a simulated sortie. No extra charge. And more importantly, you'd be generously compensated for any flight data we use in our final product."
James could hear that Mike's heart was pounding in his chest. He could understand the man's excitement, since he could feel it himself. Tracey was nervous, but warmed by his enthrallment with the challenge.
"Well I'm definitely interested," James said. "What about you guys?"
"Do you even have to ask?" Mike asked, practically bouncing in his seat.
"Sounds like we're in," James said with a smirk.
"Of course, we have a few extra documents for you all to sign before you can get started. And I'd like to personally walk you through some spot tests. Reaction times. Vision. Routine of course."
James nodded. "Lead the way sir."
"Please. Call me Lester."
The thing that truly excited James, was the fact that for once since his new life began, he'd been presented with an opportunity to test himself in a skillset his new body and mind would do little to give him an edge in. Yes, his reflexes were better than any human's. But in truth, the individuals he'd be pitted against, were experts in the field. They had nearly as many hours as he did, and most of them were in this specific brand of flight. This would be a challenge for him, human or not.
The group separated into two groups. James, to Mike's utter delight, had selected the other man to act as his copilot. It was symbolic. The modified F-92C they would be flying was a single or duel pilot multi-role fighter, and an antique by nearly every metric. There had been room for a suite of operator equipment, and two operators. The accommodations had been modified into a mock copilot seat, and two passenger chairs. James and Mike moved through the battery of tests and questionnaires, James passing each with ease. Surprisingly, Mike passed all the questionnaires as easily, and his reaction and vision tests hadn't been bad either, though they were obviously nothing compared with the superhuman he was unknowingly in the company of.
Tracey and Sarah went to a separate prep room. Finally, they all regrouped in an official looking briefing room. They were waiting for the other pilots to arrive. Within the hour, they did.
"Hey," said a bright eyed woman looking around twenty-five. "I'm Cynthia Fergeson. Callsign "Hugger". I'll be your wingman!"
James caught the last name and immediately identified the numerous similarities between this woman's face, and the face of their host. He decided not to mention it.
"James Derringer," he replied smoothly, accepting her offered hand.
"Hope you're ready. These things always get crazy."
James nodded. "I can imagine. 'Hugger'?"
She rolled her eyes. "You know the rules. Can't pick your own callsign. I got arrested at a nature rally a few years back. Wingman never let me live it down. Tree Hugger. Sigh."
James chuckled. "If someone were to pick mine that way, it would probably be Headcase."
"That's good!" she replied with a laugh. "First step is admitting you have a problem. I'll put some thought into it."
The other two pilots introduced themselves as Rodrick "Shaker" Smirnoff and Adrien "Sideways" Walker. Shaker's explanation of his callsign was much more embarrassing than Hugger's had been. They'd sat waiting in the cold one morning before a flight, and he'd forgotten his jacket. Designed to keep him cool, his flight suit had offered little in the way of insulation. He'd been shivering so badly that the commanding officer had delayed the exercise for thirty minutes while the shaking man had been stuck in a hot bath. They'd laughed the entire time, and Shaker had taken to the name with grace.
Sideways had an explanation that was both funny and also impressive. During an exercise, he'd flipped his extremely maneuverable modern fighter into a lateral trajectory, managing to hold that orientation for a full ten seconds while his instruments fought with him to put the aircraft back onto a stable course. His co pilot had managed to line up the impossible shot and win them the game. His co-pilot had subsequently earned the name, 'Broadside', as a result. The unfortunate and hilarious portion of the story, had been that he'd brought along a bottle of coffee, ensuring the seal was tight before beginning the engagement. The wild maneuver had pulled the bottle free of its holder and put it into the worst possible position. Upon the craft regaining its forward direction of travel, the bottle slammed against the wall and sprayed both pilot and co-pilot with the ice cold beverage. They endured the cold wet for another two engagements.
"Hey dad," Hugger greeted as Lester entered the room, confirming James' suspicions. If this had been interesting to James' companions, they didn't show it.
"Hey hun," the man replied, giving her a short embrace before she retook her seat and he moved to begin the presentation.
The plan came in three stages. They would start with a warm up. James would attempt to follow Hugger through the unreleased obstacle course at speeds that the computer would never attempt with passengers on board. James and Mike were already excited.
From the warmup, she would see how James could handle some standard, and then advanced maneuvers. Finally, they would engage the opposing force, or op-for as it was more commonly referred. Their fighters would contain standard simulation ordinance packages, though with a slight twist. Instead of simple blanks, the main guns would fire 'glow-bursts.' This soft gel would glow brightly, like a tracer round, but would be harmless on impact. They were sort of expensive, though Lester claimed their engineers had found a cheaper way to produce them. Their missiles were interesting. Until recently even this upstart hadn't been permitted to experiment in this way. The self propelled projectiles were actually live delivery vehicles, though their payload was the impressive part. On detonation, they would simultaneously do two things: first they would backfire so forcefully that the projectile would never get truly close to its target; second, they would release a cloud of luminous gas that would appear almost indistinguishable from an explosion to the untrained eye, yet would emit no concussive force or shrapnel.
Each bird would receive four smart missiles, and one thousand rounds of glow-burst ammunition. They would also be equipped with a standard countermeasure package, which on average was enough to defend against six self guided weapons. They would engage in rounds, best three out of five, with each engagement reducing the amount of available munitions and defenses. The first round would begin nose on and would initiate at thirty kilometers with an altitude of five kilometers. The winner of each subsequent round would begin with the op-for at their six-o-clock at a range of ten kilometers.
An hour later, all seven people, four pilots, and three passengers, were equipped with flight suits and bio-monitors. The latter of which had been a trick for James and Tracey to circumvent, though they'd come prepared. They did have vitals, though very different from a human's. They wired the leads through a device which intercepted their Traveler anatomy, and converted it to one an observer might expect from a human.
The group walked out onto the flight line and approached their aircraft. For fairness sake, they were all identical, though the other three had dummies in place of three actual passengers. James had likely not needed the handicap, though he didn't complain. He'd been impressed with the speed they had set up this impromptu simulation, though it occurred to him that it might have already been planned, and he'd simply arrived at the right time to capitalize on it.
"I hope I didn't deprive someone of a paycheck," James said over the radio, as he and his passengers strapped into their flight seats.
"Nope," Hugger said cheerfully. "Sloth's wife is having a baby. They had canceled this flight. We were all thrilled when my dad called to tell us it was back on. Sloth told me to have fun!"
"That's a relief," James admitted.
As the pilots completed their pre-flight checks, Hugger opened up the comms to the tower.
"Phoenix 1 to Tower, requesting VTOL clearance for takeoff," Hugger said, her voice steady and professional.
"Phoenix 1, this is Tower. You are cleared for vertical takeoff. Maintain hover at 300 meters until all Phoenix units are airborne. Proceed on course Alpha-7 once confirmed. Over."
"Copy, Tower. Maintaining 300 meters hover until all units airborne." Hugger expertly engaged the VTOL thrusters, lifting her F-92C gracefully off the tarmac. The aircraft rose smoothly, the thrusters barely a whisper as it reached the designated altitude.
"Phoenix 2, you're up," Hugger called over the shared channel.
James tapped the controls, opening his own comm link. "Phoenix 2 to Tower, requesting VTOL clearance for takeoff."
"Phoenix 2, Tower. You are cleared for vertical takeoff. Maintain 300 meters hover. Join Phoenix 1 at Alpha-7 once airborne. Over."
"Copy that, Tower. Phoenix 2 lifting off." James gently increased the throttle, and the F-92C responded immediately, lifting straight into the air. He glanced over at Mike, who gave a wide grin. The jet hovered effortlessly, holding its position at 300 meters.
"Phoenix 3 to Tower, requesting VTOL clearance for takeoff," came Shaker's voice over the comms.
"Phoenix 3, Tower. Cleared for vertical takeoff. Maintain 300 meters hover and join flight formation. Over."
"Roger that, Tower. Phoenix 3 lifting off." Shaker engaged the thrusters, and his F-92C followed the same precise path, smoothly rising into the hover position alongside Phoenix 1 and 2.
Finally, Sideways came in. "Phoenix 4 to Tower, requesting VTOL clearance for takeoff."
"Phoenix 4, Tower. You are cleared for vertical takeoff. Maintain 300 meters hover. Join the others at Alpha-7. Over."
"Roger, Tower. Phoenix 4 lifting off now." Sideways pulled back on the controls, his jet rising vertically with the same quiet grace, soon hovering next to the others at the designated altitude.
"Tower to Phoenix group, all units are airborne. You are cleared to proceed on Alpha-7. Good luck out there. Tower out."
"Copy that, Tower. Phoenix group proceeding on course. Phoenix 1 out," Hugger confirmed. She shifted into forward thrust, the nose of her jet angling slightly as the VTOL thrusters smoothly transitioned into horizontal flight. One by one, the other three jets followed, moving effortlessly into formation. James aligned himself with his wingman as they pushed the crafts up to cruising speed and altitude. About ten minutes into their flight, Shaker called over the radio.
"Alright Phoenix 1, Phoenix 3 and 4 now Griffin 1 and 2. Emergency frequencies locked in. Switching to op-for freqs. Breaking off. Have fun kids."
The other two birds peeled off from formation and realigned to their assigned course. They had their own warmup plans. The two transponders marking 3 and 4 changed names and numbers briefly before vanishing from their scopes as they switched to alternate frequencies.
"Thirty seconds from starting point James. You ready?"
"Ready Hugger."
"What about your co pilot?"
"Born ready, Hugger," Mike replied gleefully.
A laugh sounded over the radio. "Sounds like it. Alright. Five seconds. Catch me if you can slow pokes."
The five seconds elapsed, and Phoenix 1 inverted, vectored engines engaged as the vehicle violently arched downward. James was not deterred. Only a split second behind, he matched the maneuver, eliciting a squeal from Sarah and a whoop from Mike, both of which he tuned out. Tracey was living entirely in his head, blocking out her own instinctive fears, with James' collected confidence. Another inversion brought more G-forces and leveled their trajectory. The new course was not simple, and had clearly been designed for an adrenaline junkie. James was not disappointed. Hugger had every bit of his skill, if not more, and only the smallest decrease in senses and reflexes.
The F-92 was inferior to every ship he'd ever piloted, which in a way made it better. It forced him to employ tricks and controls he'd never considered. He split the four engine throttle with dexterity he doubted the human he was chasing could have achieved, and yet it seemed to make things no easier for him. The vectoring engines were another powerful tool he fully employed. His biggest failing for the first half of the course, was his underutilization of control surfaces. He was so used to thrust controlled ships it was outside his instincts.
"James," Mike said, his voice cutting through the madness. "Ailerons, flaps, elevators, rudder. You've been flying spaceships too long."
James adjusted instantly, and improved his control of the craft by nearly twenty percent in seconds. Already, Hugger was struggling to keep her lead, and eventually, she lost it. James overtook her just as they completed the course. Her laughter could be heard over the radio.
"Knock it off," she gasped. "You gave me a run for my money!"
"I believe your instruction was 'Catch you if I can'."
"And so you did. After that, I feel pretty good about jumping into the dogfight. I doubt you need much of a refresher. What say you?"
"Ready," He replied easily, shifting his craft to match a slight change in course.
She called over the radio. "Op-for, ready ahead of schedule. Requesting engagement?"
"Your boy that good Hugger?" Sideways replied.
"I think so. Wanna find out Sideways?"
"Bring it Hugger," Shaker replied. "Configuration one. Beginning approach. Op-for closing open channel. Good luck."
Phoenix 1 and 2 maintained course.
"Tally 2, twelve-o-clock," James announced. "Range 120. 5 seconds to engagement range. 3. 2. 1. Fox 3. Fox 3."
The missiles carved a trail of smoke through the air as they shot forward. Just as they would have impacted, they were distracted by a cloud of distorting gasses, and detonated in a brilliant faux explosion. The evasion had kept them out of the way of the weapons, but it cost them whatever maneuvering they might have been bringing to bear. James and Hugger took advantage, switching to guns and releasing a barrage of brightly glowing shots.
"Splash one," Hugger called.
"Splash two," James added a moment later.
"Knock it off," Hugger said. "Realign. Prepare for op-for at twelve-o-clock.
"Copy."
They leveled off and waited for Griffin 1 and 2 to move in. The second they got within ten kilometers, they let a pair of missiles fly.
"Phoenix 2 defending."
James did his best, but the small vehicles were insanely maneuverable, and he got caught by the second one as it evaded his countermeasures and locked in on his engine trail.
In a daring reversal, Hugger managed a splash with guns before Griffin 1 took her. The score was 1-1. They got to start in the tail position.
"I want to try something," James said mischievously. "You got this Hugger?"
"Show me what you've got James!"
He waited until they crossed the 10k mark. The maneuver he pulled actually rendered Sarah unconscious for a few seconds as G-forces pulled blood from her head. Tracey kept an eye on her, but wasn't worried. James throttled all but his bottom right engine to zero and vectored that one up and left. The result was a brief cobra maneuver that transitioned into a flat spin. When he was pointed at the ground, he pulled his triggers.
"Fox 3." The missile shot downward even as James throttled his engines to counter the spin and bring his radar to bear on the bandits. The missile, offset by two kilometers downward, acquired a target. It came from directly below, and snagged Griffin 1 even as he attempted to evade Hugger's gun. James got gunned down in turn, his reduced flight speed working against him. Hugger finished Griffin 2 off.
"Remember when you said your callsign should be Headcase? I don't think that's aggressive enough. I dub thee, Psycho."
"Much appreciated Hugger."
Phoenix took the disadvantage position a second time and waited for the op-for.
"Is it cheating to manually guide a missile?" Mike asked.
"Nope. Have a ball. Bandits tally 2. Six-o-clock. 3. 2. 1. Phoenix 1 defending."
James timed the release of his last missile with Hugger's deployment of her countermeasures. It was a dead drop on a five second timer. The missile flared to life as Griffin blew past it. James fed the telemetry to Mike's console even as he narrowly avoided a missile from Griffin 2.
"Splash one," Mike crowed victoriously, as the missile blew on top of Griffin 1.
"Splash two," Hugger said a moment later. "Knock it off. That's 3-1 Griffin. Beers are on you."
"Cheers Phoenix," Shaker replied. "Nice kill Mike. I assume that was you. No way James pulled that evasion with a fly by wire active."
"That's Psycho now," Hugger corrected.
"Fitting," Shaker agreed. "Nice flying Psycho. You're a scary motherfucker."
James was thrilled. "Thanks Shaker."
"Alright. Griffin rejoining. Now Phoenix 3 and 4."
"Copy," Hugger replied. "RTB"
The group formed up and angled back towards the private airbase. They negotiated their arrivals with traffic control, and settled smoothly down onto the landing pad, taxiing back to their respective spaces. They disembarked, passing control of the crafts to the capable hands of the technicians, who would inspect them for damage from the modified pyrotechnics.
"Where'd you learn that trick with the flatspin?" Sideways asked.
"Made it up," James said.
"That was a crazy maneuver and no sane pilot would ever attempt it in an actual fight unless they were desperate."
"I know. I think my callsign perfectly establishes my level of sanity."
The other man shook his head and chuckled. "Perfectly."
The group gave their goodbyes to their new pilot friends, all of whom gave James their contact information. Back in the hotel, James passed out beers, the revelry continuing. Mike and Sarah were not party people, but they enjoyed the experience thoroughly. It was how James convinced Mike onto the walk through the not so busy late night streets of Phoenix Arizona. Aside from the sound of vehicles and the occasional evening city goer, it was quiet, the perfect backdrop for James' planned conversation.
"Harold told me about the twins."
Mike sobered instantly, nodding. "It's been hard. I wish I'd known. There were so many options we could have had. The girls don't deserve this."
James sighed. "What all have you tried?"
"Everything. Immune boosters. Gene therapy. Supplemental immune nanos. They all help, but nothing fixes it. Every time one of them gets a cold, my heart stops. They're kids. How are we supposed to stop them getting sick?"
"More or less impossible," James agreed. He was briefly distracted by the very similar conversation Tracey was having with Sarah. "I think I can help."
Mike's gaze spun in surprise. "Something new from Tracey? Harold told us."
James shook his head. "This is separate. It's not… A conventional treatment. And it's not an easy decision. It will mean a permanent decision that you can never take back. More importantly, they can never take it back." James' words mirrored those of Gordon on that day James had woken up for the last time.
"I don't understand."
"I'm being vague on purpose. I'm not strictly allowed to share this with you, unless you agree to it."
"How am I supposed to agree to something for my children without knowing what it is?"
"Well… Technically, I'm offering it to you first. Something you can experience first hand and make the decision after."
"What kind of treatment is this? How can I try it for myself?"
"It's not a treatment. Not really. It's… A transformation. A fundamental realignment. An opportunity to become something else. Something less… Breakable."
"I'd say I'm willing to try anything at this point, but I don't know how to feel about this."
"You don't have to answer any time soon. The girls will be okay for a few years at least. And if needed, I can absolutely facilitate a less costly treatment plan while you decide."
"What the hell do I tell Sarah," Mike lamented.
James sighed again. "Nothing. I'm listening to Tracey tell her everything I'm telling you."
Mike spun back and focused on James again. "I'd ask, but I think I already know. You're not as subtle as you think you are."
"We haven't really been trying to be. At least, not around the four of you. We're more careful around your parents."
"Does Harold know?"
James nodded. "He's known for more than a decade. But he made his choice. He only found out about this situation when he left Gordon Co. He feels terrible about not telling you sooner. He wasn't sure how to do it."
Mike closed his eyes, then exhaled deeply and opened them. "I guess I can't blame him. From what you're telling me, I can't imagine it's an easy thing to talk about."
"It can be. If you know how to do it." He mock punched Mike on the shoulder, more of a nudge really. "If you know what buttons to push."
"This trip?"
"It was in the works before we got here. I just took advantage to soften you up first."
Mike sighed. "What's expected of us? What do we have to offer?"
"Nothing. This isn't transactional. Any illusion of exclusivity is a consequence of the delicate balance between secrecy, and free choice. We have to be careful about who we approach. There are terrible powers at play here. Men, more monster than human, willing to set aside ethics and venture into the realm of atrocity if it improves their bottom line."
Mike was quiet for a long time. "How soon could we begin? How long do we have?"
"I could have a transport here in a week. My ship… Well. Let's just say the four of you wouldn't be very comfortable. Assuming that you enjoy breathing. I should say five of you. We're considering reaching out to Charlie as well. I'm pretty sure I know what she'll say. She seems ready born for this. In any case, you have as long as you need. As I said. I'll leave a way for you to contact us through Harold."
"Why only the five of us? Is there an age limit?"
"Not at all. But Harold is stubborn. And from these past few days, I can say with a high degree of certainty, it's a shared trait amongst that age group."
"I feel like I should feel more protective of my little sister."
"You could, but she'd probably slap you."
Mike chuckled. "Yeah. Probably. Can I ask you something? I know you can't answer, but I'd be remiss not to ask."
"Ask."
"What are you?"
James smiled. "We're Travelers. We're the continuation."
My upload schedule is Sundays. Unless otherwise specified. Or I get extremely distracted with life and stuff. Oof. Sorry about the delay in posting. I'm posting the two chapters I missed, plus one bonus chapter for my lapse. Enjoy! Posts will go back to the regularly scheduled Sundays now.
Credit for the Cover Art goes to my wonderful friend 𝐿𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒽.
I used GPT to generate the pilots talking to the tower cause I couldn't be bothered figuring out how to make it sound good. It's the only generated content this far into the story.
Story content for the early chapters written with the assistance of Chat GPT. Later chapters use less and less generated content. This story started as a kind of experiment. The results were good at first, but they began to drop off as the machine began to deviate further and further from my vision for this story. I'm sharing this information freely.