CassaStar (5 page)

The displays were dark and no lights glowed in greeting. The controls showed wear from repeated use, the result of hundreds of potential pilots training on Guaard. The worn, metallic smell was unique as well. The simulator had reflected every detail of the panel, right down to the smallest of controls, but there was one critical difference. This was the real thing.

Doesn’t look much different
, Trindel commented.

Yes it does
, Byron replied as he gripped the thrust. He felt the cold metal even through the padding.

It was then that he became aware of the teleporter. The device was self-sufficient and engaged at all times. Its power emanated from behind Trindel’s seat, safely encased within the frame of the ship. It emitted no audible sound, not even a low hum, but Byron was keenly aware of the mechanism’s energy as it rippled through his mind.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the device that would be his sole responsibility. Trindel was trained on the teleporter, but pilots were accountable for its operation. Byron’s mind would connect and draw upon its power to teleport their ship. Locking onto the device’s signal, he felt the surge of power in his mental abilities. In that brief instant, he now understood the skill required to teleport the ship to another location in space. All he had to do was concentrate and visualize.

Not planning on jumping us to the other side of the hanger, are you?

Byron opened his eyes and dissolved the connection.
Not just yet!
he answered.

Good, because I bet that would buy us a ticket home on the next transport
, Trindel teased.

Byron chuckled as he envisioned the attempt of such a feat. Officer Bassa would be positively livid!

The teams were allowed ample time to explore their ships. Byron circled the craft one more time, his hands trailing across the cold surface, before joining the others as they gathered to depart.

The midday meal was consumed with haste. The men were eager to return to the hanger and their ships. The officers took their time, adding to the growing restlessness in the room. Byron did not hide his relief when the instructors arose and ordered the men to the hanger.

The flight crew was positioning the fighters when they returned. Byron was pleased to note their ship was placed in the front of the pack. Eager to experience his first flight, he suited up and returned to the hanger before the others. Trindel trotted out a moment later, out of breath from his hasty preparations.

Once the men had reassembled in the hanger, they received instructions on their first foray into space. Feeling his excitement mount, Byron forced himself to pay attention. He did not want to make a mistake now.

“
Ships will launch in pairs,” Bassa announced, his voice carrying across the hanger. “You will follow your flight plan precisely and return to the landing bay. Each ship will complete three runs this afternoon. Instructors will be circling the base and observing your flight.”

Byron noticed that the officers were also suited for flight. His gaze traveled past the four instructors to the two fighters waiting by the launch tubes. The ships bore bright red insignias and the identifying numbers lacked the ‘T’ that marked the training vessels. Even in the darkness of space, it would be impossible to confuse the ships.

“
Any deviation in your flight plan,” stated Bassa, his voice redirecting Byron’s attention, “will result in your dismissal. Understood?”

“
Yes, sir!” the men replied in unison.

Bassa began to pace slowly in front of the men, eyes scanning the ranks. He gave Byron a cold stare before allowing his gaze to fall on the next man in line.

“
This may be your first actual flight, but perfect execution and a precision landing are mandatory. Once you have performed your first run, your ship will be taxied into position for another run until three landings are achieved.

“
Now, to your ships!”

Byron tried to conceal his excitement, but his pace was stretched by Trindel’s eager gait. Upon reaching their fighter, the men ran through the exterior checklist before Trindel gave his pilot the honor of climbing the ladder first. As he reached the platform, he glanced at the other ships and grinned. Their Cosbolt was second in line, a far more enviable placement than dead last.

Once his helmet was in place, Byron slid into his seat and fastened the harness. Turning his attention to the control panel, he anxiously scanned the display. Confident none of the switches or dials had changed position during their meal, he poised his finger over the power button.

Ready?
he asked Trindel

I’m ready!

Pressing the button, Byron grinned as the panel came to life. The various instruments and screens were a welcome glow. The lights were even more vivid than those of the simulator. Mesmerized by the sight, Byron stared in awe at the illuminated panel. An emotional burst of excitement from Trindel jolted him to life.

Preflight check
, Byron announced, shifting his thoughts to the task at hand.

Running through each item on the list, pilot and navigator confirmed the proper operation of the ship’s numerous systems. Signing off on the final check screen, Byron lowered the canopy and performed a final inspection on the cabin’s pressure.

All clear?
he asked Trindel, noting the instructor’s ships were already entering the launch tubes.

Ready to roll!

Byron touched the com. “715T ready,” he announced.

“
Check, 715T, awaiting clearance.”

He tested the seal of his helmet one last time before pressing his back against the seat and adjusting the position of his feet. His piloting skills would not be required until the ship entered the launch tube, as Trindel operated ground movement from his position. Until they received clearance and moved into position, he had nothing to do.

The lack of stimulus was calming, though. Discouraging Trindel’s preflight nervous chatter had been challenging, but over time he had learned to be quiet. Byron had trained his navigator to shield his overactive mind before a flight, and even the prospect of actual flight had not loosened Trindel’s mental voice. Alone with his thoughts, Byron’s attention was once again drawn to the teleporter.

The mechanism’s power was unmistakable. It echoed in his skull, vibrating every nerve. Byron focused on the device, allowing its potency to connect with his own mental powers. Feeling the strength of his mental abilities expand, he allowed his mind to absorb even more energy. The sensation was intoxicating. He felt capable of teleporting the ship across the universe …

We’re up!
exclaimed Trindel.

Byron’s eyes opened. The ships in front of them were rolling into the launch tubes.

Be ready
, he replied.

Within minutes, they were given permission to approach the now-open launch bay. Trindel eased their ship forward, keeping pace with the fighter to their left. With incredible precision, Byron’s navigator eased the vessel into the launch tube. It never ceased to amaze Byron that someone possessing Trindel’s hyperactive nature was capable of handling such a delicate operation, but his navigator excelled in his position.

Once the second set of hatches closed, Byron fired up the engines and performed the final systems check. Trindel locked the vessel in place and their ship was ready to launch.

It’s all you!

Byron smiled, his fingers tight across the throttle. The lights illuminating the launch tube beckoned, their glow leading to a dark point at the end of the tunnel. He focused on that patch of blackness and what lay beyond. That spot represented freedom.

“
Launch in five seconds,” control announced. “Prepare! Three … two … one …”

The ship went from a stationary position to flight speed in less than one second. Byron’s grip on the throttle grew even tighter as they raced down the tunnel, engines burning at precisely the correct level. The tiny speck of darkness grew and the tube’s lights were only a blur …

The fighter exploded from the tunnel in silence. Despite his exhilaration, which surged outward unshielded, Trindel held a fixed lock on their flight pattern and projected the course to his pilot. Byron maintained their gentle climb, the excitement of their first flight coursing through his body. The vastness of space stretched before him, its expanse immense. The simple route was obviously meant to provide new pilots a moment to gather their wits. Fearful the view would distract him from their assignment, Byron focused on the upcoming flight pattern change.

At the appropriate moment, he veered right. Following his navigator’s instructions without question, he continued to circle to the right. As the landing bay came into view, he realized it was not the same one used by the transport. Four distinct lines guided approaching Cosbolts and he concentrated on the second stripe from the right. Trindel engaged the landing runners in preparation and gave the signal. Throttling back the engine, Byron prepared to enter the bay.

Perfect landing, perfect landing, he repeated.

He held the nose steady and ship parallel. Both sets of runners had to touch evenly and he refused to settle for a lopsided landing. A single, gentle bump assured Byron of his success. Throwing the engines in reverse, he slowed the ship’s headlong flight. Trindel made adjustments from his position, assisting with the plane’s movement on the ground. Operating as an experienced team, Byron and Trindel brought their ship to a halt on the exact mark.

Byron emitted a cry of elation, which was quickly seconded by his navigator. He turned off the engines, relinquishing total control of the ship to Trindel. To his left, he noticed the other Cosbolt’s position two rows away and just over the mark. Byron grinned at the pair’s mistake.

Think you just missed there!
he called, his thoughts aimed at Surren, the pilot.

Didn’t ask your opinion, hot shot!
came the defensive reply.

Couldn’t resist, could you?
prodded Trindel, his tone one of amusement.

Byron chuckled, pleased with his taunt and satisfied with their first actual flight. His team had flown and landed with a precision worthy of their status.

Trindel taxied out of the landing bay and the relays pulled the ship into the hanger. They returned to the line of Cosbolts waiting to launch. The first two teams had already spread their enthusiasm among the young men, elevating the excitement. Byron preferred to gloat privately and only reveled in their success with Trindel. They still had two more runs to complete.

The final two runs resulted in perfect execution and textbook landings. Byron’s confidence swelled and his elation threatened to emanate beyond the cockpit. He reigned in his emotions but did permit a smug grin to emerge as they returned to the hanger. The instructors could not fault their performance today.

Several teams were reprimanded for overshooting their mark upon landing, but none had veered off course or landed improperly. Byron felt a dismissal on the first day of flight would’ve been too harsh a judgment regardless. He liked to think that Bassa was not so coldhearted as to send a team home this early and dampen everyone’s spirits.

Discussions during the evening meal centered solely on their first flight. The men were eager for tomorrow and the promise of a longer flight pattern. They also voiced displeasure with the harsh criticisms received. Sitting at the end of a table, Byron merely listened to the conversation.

“
Well, if today was any indication, it’ll be a long six months,” mused Forcance, poking at the remains of his meal.

“
Bassa sure is tough,” Surren growled, cocking his eyebrows at the navigator.

“
He expects perfection!” exclaimed Arenth, his dark eyes on the officer’s table.

Surren leaned back in his chair and frowned. He was a large man and quite capable of exerting his dominance on lesser individuals. Conflicts with Surren were frequent, as he believed only his opinion counted. Byron found the pilot difficult and overbearing.

“
I think Bassa gets off on pointing out mistakes!” Surren exclaimed, his wide nose wrinkled in disgust.

“
Such as overshooting your mark today?” Byron asked, tired of Surren’s attitude.

The burly pilot shot him a piercing stare, his eyes reflecting his contempt. Byron returned his gaze, aware that no one would side against Surren. Byron was not favored by the other young men and he relied on Trindel’s friendly nature to remain integrated with the others. Of course, his outcast position was by choice. He was not here to make friends.