Gemini Ecliptic : : Chapter 9
Of all the commodities that humanity has ever trafficked in, none surpass the value of hope. Precarious, precious and scarce when most desperately needed, easily lost and most painfully gained, it turns the tides of battle. It snatches sanity from the jaws of madness. It renders the impossible possible. A long, backward glance at our race shows that the men and women best remembered and most revered traded not gems or knowledge or coin. They gave hope in exchange for faith. The greatest villains of our lore were the thieves who stole away hope and left fear in its place.
- Pontifex Muthologia Celebras Lethon, from “Man and Myth,” AT 3130
It took everyone about three hours to settle in. The group had left en masse from the Academy as soon as they could on the final day before the two week break began. Jensen and Jared, the masterminds behind the early exodus told no one that their true motivation was to see if they could catch Loretta off guard, knowing she wasn’t expecting them until the next morning. They were slightly surprised to find Ella Holloway waiting at the transport for them. They held on to hope that they had managed to pull one over on their diminutive "hostess" up to the point that the inn-keeper informed them that once they had put away their belongings in their assigned rooms, Loretta should have dinner ready for them.
Mike laughed uncharitably at their disappointment. "Like we didn't know," he chided. "It’s gonna take more than an early departure to pull a fast one on Divine."
Regrettably, they conceded he was correct.
Dinner began with, as was customary, a sound scolding which ended as the two young men began to search Loretta's hair for the strands of gray she accused them of putting there. She swatted them away, murmuring cheerful recriminations under her breath. Trays of hearty dishes flowed out of the diner's kitchen nearly burying their table. Jensen and Jared remarked to themselves that this was the quietest they had ever seen their friends, and thankful that even Mike's mother had managed to teach the boy not to talk with his mouth full. Once the meal had concluded and hot coffee was served to all, Tom began to flirt outrageously with their hostess, which shocked everyone.
"Fresh!" Loretta exclaimed, smacking the tall, handsome Adept on the arm. At his boyishly mournful expression, she said matter-of-factly "I didn't tell you to stop, did I honey?"
The village, even late on a cold evening, bustled with activity and vacationers. The strange alpine sport of skiing seemed to have quite the following, and one glance at the monstrous peaks of the valley provided the clue as to why they flocked to Ouray. Mike had never relented in his urgings to get everyone to try the sport, and they all ultimately agreed while putting up a greater show of resistance than any of them actually felt because they knew how much their rambunctious friend enjoyed badgering them.
Well into the night, they sat at their secluded table in the homey diner, just chatting, laughing, telling stories and sharing memories. It felt wonderful for Jensen and Jared to just have a moment to savor their friends. Eventually, Loretta shooed them all out of the building, ordering them with her normal belligerent charm to haul their butts to bed. This was no doubt an indictment of Jeffrey's care of them, and something he would assuredly be apprised of at Loretta's earliest convenience.
The group splintered in the middle of the town square, tiny lights scattered all around them, glistening brightly on the snow. Most headed to their rooms at Ella's, while the rest of the group made their way silently to the cabin. None were surprised when they entered and found the place had been prepared for them. There were fresh linens, lightly stocked cupboards and gloriously inviting warmth. They shook the snow and the chill off and headed to their respective rooms.
It had been far too long since Jared and Jensen had a perfectly private moment, free from the concerns and responsibilities of their day-to-day lives. The cabin offered them more than rest. It provided release. Both knew it to be a silly notion. All that needed doing, all the expectations of them still existed, as assuredly real here as back on campus. But for some reason, once they entered the small town, welcomed into the warmth of their friends' hearts and hearths, everything felt lighter. They basked in each other, unfettered and light. Their lovemaking took much longer than usual. Jensen urged his lover to take him, to fill him up. It was not unheard of between them, but normally it was Jared that yearned for the burning feeling of fullness, of completeness, but he could deny Jensen nothing. The tenderness of the act brought tears to their eyes, the love they felt overwhelming them, like it would burst forth from their bodies and flood the worlds. It had been some time since a hunger for each other had seized them as it did in this moment. Well into the earliest hours of morning, they shared breath and body as they always did heart and mind. This lust would not release them until they had both had their fill. They collapsed sweaty and sated, both achy and feverish in the most delectable of ways. They chuckled at the shared thought that Mike's skiing expedition might have to wait a day or two, as both of them would no doubt have trouble walking tomorrow.
They slept late into the day, the sun approaching its apex. They were not surprised to find the house empty. Their mentors had no doubt decided to head into town for a respite. The privacy, the silence and warmth of their sanctuary afforded them an opportunity to indulge in something they had only done once before. Sprawled out in the enormous bathtub in the master suite, Jared reclined against Jensen's chest, their legs and arms and hands tangled together, they luxuriated in the hot water, the flow of the jets, and above all, each other. They traded lazy kisses, lingering gentle touches until they knew they had to leave the warm water. The sonic dryer felt heavenly and they still held each other as it whisked away the moisture on their pink, wrinkled skin.
By the time they entered the town proper; noon had come and gone, the early afternoon presenting a less crowded square. They supposed most of the visitors had made their way to the slopes. They strolled down the street, making their way into Loretta's place. Her amused expression conveyed her understanding of precisely what they had been up to. They might have blushed a bit, but their grins threatened to split their faces. Fortunately, the main dining room only held a few people, and before they had even managed to sit, steaming bowls of savory stew were placed before them. Whatever magic Loretta used to concoct her dishes must have been concentrated to create this one. A fowl of some type, no doubt domestic as it lacked the gaminess of wilder birds, stewed to buttery tenderness in thickened stock, root vegetables and some type of gooey delicious pastry floated in the brew. It warmed them from head to toe, and elicited more than the usual murmurs of enthusiastic enjoyment.
Before they had finished the rustic desert of wild berries sweetened and thickened as they baked beneath a flaky crust, their friends had honed in on their position, joining them and overwhelming the table meant for half their number.
Before Mike could begin to bellow for food, more dishes of this sweet delight Loretta called “cobbler” came out of the kitchen to the hungry cadets. None had managed to make it to the slopes, as all had slept in. Judging by their flushed complexions, and a few slightly visible love marks on necks, sleep wasn't the only shared activity. They all wandered through the streets, stopping to chat with friends, peruse some of the handmade crafts the townsfolk offered to their visitors, but ultimately, they ended up at the cabin, draped over any available surface. Quiet huddles of conversation, some games, some watching the holovid, the relaxation of the afternoon acted as a balm on Jensen and Jared. Jensen had been lured into a strange card game with Misha, Jager, Mike and Chris. While Jared watched, his beloved soundly beat them hand after hand though he was new to the game and had been mistaken as an easy mark. The playful jabs and complaints only lightened the mood further. Jared emerged from the kitchen, a warm cup of mulled wine in hand, and caught sight of Alona nestled up in the reading nook.
"Whatcha reading?" he asked, peering over her shoulder to the scroll that had consumed his friend’s attention.
"It’s a children's story from Ancient Terra," she answered. "Raidon's family curates the most exhaustive collection of literature from the old world."
"Really?" Jared eagerly inquired, his interest peaked. "What's it about?"
Alona chuckled. "That’s rather difficult to say. It is, as far as I can tell, a very charming tale, but it is filled with a great deal of strangeness." She pointed to a drawing that accompanied the text. "This is, I think, the main character."
"What is it?"
"It is an anthropomorphization of a children's toy popular among the ancients. It’s based on a particularly vicious ursine mammal. I can't even begin to guess why they would turn such a creature into a plush doll for their children to sleep with."
"Maybe the ferocity of the creature would assure the young that it would scare away bad dreams?" Jared offered.
“That's possible, but this specimen looks anything but frightening."
Jared laughed. "He is kind of adorable you know. What’s that?" He pointed to another figure.
"That is something called a 'piglet.' It looks something like the boars in many of the agricultural zones."
"It was also a children's toy?"
"Unsure, but it seems that this was an exceedingly popular story, and toys were fashioned in the likeness of these characters."
"How very odd."
"Yes, but what I love about it is the strange innocence and sweetness of it. It is a very kind and gentle story." Her wistful tone pulled Jared's attention up from the screen to look at his friend.
She seemed more relaxed than he had seen her for a very long time. She radiated a calm joy that no doubt came in part from the young man who shared her affections. Jared was suddenly fiercely glad that she had found someone, but something lurked, like a shadow, just beyond his reach. He focused, trying to figure out what the niggling sadness could be, but it mostly eluded his concentration. However, one thing came through clearly. A deep sadness.
He had no idea from where it came. Obviously, not from anyone in the room. It settled in his chest, and amplified when he look at the lovely, quiet, talented young woman beside him. He wrestled with it for several moments, but as it still refused to take any kind of shape or form that he could deal with, he pushed it out of his mind and heart. If it was important, it would no doubt return. Hopefully during a time less idyllic than this.
He settled down next to his friend, pointing at the scroll. “And who is this melancholy looking little fellow?”
“That is Eeyore,” she smiled at him.
It had been three days in the valley before Mike managed to drag them to the slopes to try out this bizarre sport of his. They had been fitted with special gear, given basic instructions on what to do and to expect. Hover chairs lifted them gently up the side of the mountain, this particular run far more shallow a grade than its neighbors. Mike had explained that a run consisted of an uninterrupted path, cleared of all trees and debris, in which snow accumulated without packing down, leaving a down-soft and thick layer of powder. Apparently in ancient times, the sport could be quite dangerous, sometimes fatal. Fortunately, since its revival on Lyrea, force fields had been applied to the sides of the run. Skiiers sought to achieve as much speed as possible down the slopes, and before the technological intervention, the most common form of injury and death had been collision with trees.
Reassured that their present activity had been rendered completely safe, one by one they proceeded down the run. Jensen and Jared went down together, their first run was clumsy, awkward, and they spent more time on their butts than on their skis, laughing loudly at their remarkable lack of coordination. On the second run the entire group fared much better. By the third, Jensen and Jared had managed to grasp the nuances of the sport and could sweep down the slope with an agility and grace that startled them. By the end of the day, they had progressed to the more challenging runs and knew they would enjoy this activity as often as possible.
Mike, of course, gloated like the cat that got the cream, his entire demeanor an unending shout of "I told you so!" They responded generally with complaints of how sore they all now were and of course blamed that entirely on Mike. None of it fazed him whatsoever.
With their days spent skiing, lounging, eating, and not a few liaisons behind closed doors, the break sped by them. The impending return to the Academy and the demands of their duties weighed more heavily on them with each passing hour. On the night before their return, Jared and Jensen stood on the cabin’s deck, marveling at the landscape’s splendor. Eventually, Loretta appeared no doubt to check on them and feed them if she could get them to sit still long enough.
“Even after all these years, it’s till an amazing sight,” she softly, reverently said.
The trio stood for a few minutes more, until Jared asked, “Have you ever noticed that these trees, right here around the cabin are larger than the others?”
Loretta smiled. “Oh yes. We’ve noticed.”
“So any theories on why?” Jensen urged her on.
“A few,” she cryptically replied. “All of these trees were mostly uniform until a little less than a year ago. Suddenly, these closest to the house began to shoot up. We also noticed the grass here is much thicker and lusher than anywhere else in the valley. I expect that once the snow melts, the flowers will be spectacular.”
“So, we did this.” Jared stated flatly.
“Yes, I think so,” Loretta confirmed. “You should take a look at the flora around your quarters on campus.”
“We spend a lot of time at other places on campus, too. It might be very difficult to distinguish,” Jensen countered.
Loretta’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Does Jeffrey know you two are having sex all over his campus?”
Both young men sputtered with disbelief, as Loretta cackled at them.
“Do you really think you have so much control that in the heat of passion you keep all of your power contained?”
Still wide-eyed and a bit pale, the duo looked around at the affected trees with a bit of astonishment and no small amount of embarrassment.
“I tell you that the love you have for each other is so strong that at its most passionate, trees grow tall and strong, the flowers cover the ground, and you go with shock and shame?” she chastised them. “I think you better get a few things sorted before you head home.”
With that, she took her leave of them.
Jensen and Jared stood still for some time, trying to process what they had learned. The phenoptic revealed an array of green threads of so many shades they couldn’t begin to count them. As they suspected, the web nearest the cabin shown more brightly, more densely than the surrounding land. The tiny galaxy of light hummed beautifully at them, and they finally understood what Loretta meant. Their love had made this, an imprint so strong that even when they were a world away; it still blossomed all on its own.
Nothing could prepare them for the maelstrom of the following month back at the Academy. Days were split evenly between intense sessions in the flight simulators and what had been dubbed "bootcamp" with Misha. Even Sasha and Jager joined the cadets as they all strove to better understand the phenoptic and more importantly, how to remain aware enough to resist the lure of the Music. ExTac ceased for the three and a half weeks it took to master the trance-like state enough to ensure no one would get lost in it. Once they resumed drills on the Gemini Defense, the exercises were rigorous. Spread out across the campus, they began to perform rapid shifts, seeing if the group could maintain net integrity as individuals ran from one side to the other, changing positions. For three days, the results were disappointing, but soon, they got it. Even though the net would change shape, sometimes almost folding in on itself as they shifted positions, it maintained its intensity and scope.
Even during the "run and gun," as Mike called it, the strength of the psionic connections continued to grow. Finally, they had stretched as far across the campus as they could. It would soon be time to try the tactic in the field. Jager was stoically pleased with all of their progress, and visibly delighted when all of them completed their co-pilot proficiency tests two weeks ahead of the Justicar's six week deadline. Republic fighters all had two seats: the pilot, and co-pilot, or as was more commonly known, the gunner. No one could take a gunner position unless he or she had demonstrated enough skills and knowledge to maneuver a fighter away from a fire fight in the unlikely event a pilot was incapacitated. It required a level of finesse and four demonstrations in the simulator of extracting the craft from intense combat situations to safety. Fortunately, the exam did not require the level of mastery that pilots underwent. Jensen and Jared had attempted a few pilot drills in the simulator, and the demands were extraordinarily high. For their purposes, pilot accreditation was overkill. None of the Adepts responsible for creating the web could pilot, since their attention and energies would be focused somewhere else. However, they needed to be able to operate the craft’s weapons while maintaining the web. Fortunately, pilots operated the front cannon, and the gunners covered the aft. None of their friends could begin to try and juggle both until they were in actual fighters and in the vast vacuum of space.
Word reached the Justicar moments after they had all aced their exams. He called for a four-day break from all activities. Everyone welcomed the reprieve, taking no small pleasure in having so greatly exceeded their commander's expectations that he required additional time to find fighters and pilots and work out all the other details for field training. They took the few days off to relax and eat but mostly they slept. They had all been over-extended since the return from the valley. No one more than Jensen and Jared, who had maintained their appointments with Dr. Speight.
The prototype of the new deflector array steadily improved, each session resulting in Dick taking a lengthy list of notes and modifications back to his lab. By the time the group was ready for field training, the new array had demonstrated a 73 percent increase in power over the previous generation with an 80 percent increase in power efficiency. Dick and his team were now working feverishly to augment the new array to take advantage of the extra available power to increase the shields even further. The two young cadets were more than pleased at their efforts. Just touching the new array gave them a strong sense of accomplishment, and reminding them that they had been an integral part in a project that would save many lives.
When the pleasant fuzziness of the teleporter energy faded, they found themselves in a massive hangar, twelve fighters gleaming under the artificial lights. Outside the wide open blast doors they could see an unending ocean of dunes, their pristine whiteness glimmering blindingly under the midday sun. The panorama varied so wildly from the alpine glory of the Academy that Jensen and Jared wondered for a moment if they had been transported off world, though they knew this hangar lay some 200 kilometers from the base in Quel’Alta.
A stunningly beautiful woman, waves of auburn hair cascading around her shoulders, walked forward to meet them. The suit she wore, slightly different from their own utilities denoted her as a pilot. The small, silver insignia on her collar proved her to be the leader of this squadron of pilots. Eleven other pilots, identically attired followed her lead, walking purposefully to the teleporter platform. The two groups formally saluted each other, most of the cadets out of respect for a superior officer, the pilots out of respect for the three mentors.
“I am Danneel Harris,” the commander offered. “This is Matt Cohen, Jake Abel, Chad Michael Murray, Genevieve Cortese, Katie Cassidy, Sebastian Roche, Rob Bennedict, Nicki Aycox, Pamela Barnes, Brock Kelley and Adrianne Palicki.” Before her roll-call had even concluded, Jensen and Jared felt the waves of curiosity, anxiety, and equal parts fear and admiration pulsing off the group of pilots. “And you,” she continued, her tone suddenly quiet and deep, “are Gemini.”
“And you,” Jensen countered, “are all Adepts.”
Someone in the group whistled lowly. “You live up to your reputation,” she smirked. “Our abilities as pilots outweighed our skills as Adepts. Command put us all in the same squadron in case we were ever needed in a psionic ground unit. Never thought we would be needed for a psionic fighter unit.”
For the next five minutes, the cadets introduced themselves, and both groups worked through the awkward stage of trying to get each others’ names right. Danneel caught Jensen’s and Jared’s eyes and nodded back to a tactical table a few meters from them. The pair of cadets, the pilot commander and the three mentors made their way to it.
“We honestly weren’t expecting Adept pilots,” Jared said.
“Is it a problem?” she asked, unsure if she should be offended or not.
“We aren’t sure,” Jensen answered. “We have no idea if the twelve of you will be affected by the psionic net.”
“I suggest we test it on the ground,” Jager offered. “Then a more prolonged exercise in high orbit, just thirty or so revolutions, nothing fancy, to make sure none of the pilots are affected.”
Danneel nodded in agreement, and set about pulling up the holodisplay of the twelve ships and pilots. “We need to determine who goes with whom.”
“We need to start with your standard formations,” Jager began. “The individuals in the net need to be in general locations in relation to the others for this to work.”
“We will have to fly in one formation only?” she queried.
“No,” Jensen answered, “At least not further along in the drills. For now, we need to be fairly static in distribution, until we are more comfortable and then we can work on fluidity.”
The six of them began to work in earnest to configure the first stages of the drills. They had only completed half of the assignments when the others joined them, watching the proceedings with interest.
Danneel, never looking up from the display, ordered Matt to distribute bio-nodes to the new arrivals. Each of them received a small, rectangular badge, no more than 7 centimeters across and 1 centimeter tall to affix to their utilities right over their hearts. He explained to them that the nodes served to monitor bio-signs, track ship assignments, and in the event of catastrophic failure, to work as a homing beacon for rescue. By the time they had all fastened their nodes, the final assignments had been made.
“Your nodes will change color,” Danneel explained. “Two of each of you will have the same color, one pilot, one gunner. Find the person with the matching node and you have your assignments. Each ship will also be color coded to match its assigned pair.”
The two groups merged, flowing together until the matches were found. As they newly formed pairs took position beside their crafts, they all felt the charge of excitement in the air. There, framed by the open hanger doors, laid a brand new adventure, something none of them had ever done before. If this worked, it could turn the tide of the war, and they would all make history.
It took about five minutes to discern that the net did not impact their pilots. Jared hypothesized that unless an Adept was trained to the tactic, he or she would remain impervious. Chris and Erica had to use slightly more precise aiming skills as healing and phasing would likely affect their pilots, but that was something they had trained in for years. As pairs climbed into their crafts, Jensen and Jared paused to take in the sight.
The fighters in the hangar represented the latest models in the Republican fleet. Standing three meters high, ten meters long and wide, and their hulls gleamed a rich, pearly grey in the sunlight. The wings and noses were fully articulated, allowing for reconfiguration given the conditions. Full atmosphere flying resulted in a much sharper, spearlike shape, the wings folding backward to the rear of the craft in a delta formation. In zero atmosphere, the wings would shift forward, and the massive cannons in each wing tip ended up sticking out two meters in front of the nose. Regardless of configuration, the ships were sleek, no straight lines but crisp arcs. The two smaller cannons rested mid-wing and this allowed for all four forward cannons to fire in a 180 degree sweep. Two rear cannons could independently cover the back 180. The advantage of the aft canons were their vertical movement. They could fire above and below the craft. At rest, on the deck of the hanger, the anti-grav systems left them hovering inches above the floor.
Being on board an actual fighter unnerved all of them. Every facet of the controls, the layout, even the exerted force in maneuvering felt exactly like the simulators. Somehow, the fact that it was "real" this time made every last one of them nervous. The horizon of Lyrea began to curve, the blue sky fading, as stars became visible. Once in low orbit, the trial would begin. The pilots worked in perfect harmony, executing the programmed formation flawlessly. Once in position, the Adepts began to try and recreate the web. Jensen and Jared asked all the pilots for patience and explained that this could take some time. The first attempts failed spectacularly. Finally, everyone managed to put aside their nerves, regain their focus, and by the half-hour mark in orbit, the web was up and functioning. Once the signal came, the pilots maneuvered to the next formation, an uncomplicated shifting of positions between four ships in the internal folds of the net. For the next three hours, the ships flew back and forth between the assigned positions. As the minutes ran out on their first session, the net maintained integrity through all executed moves.
Everyone was ecstatic, adrenaline coursing through them as the wing of fighters returned to the hanger. Once their feet were firmly planted back on the ground, they exchanged high-fives, slaps, bellows and engaged in a few bizarre victory dances. Day one had been a tremendous success. Danneel suggested everyone meet up at a favorite local watering hole for some celebratory drinks. The town near the hangar, a small grouping of buildings on the edge of the vast desert that made up Psi Min’s training and deployment grounds, was called McAlister, named after some long forgotten ancestor. Now, the town only existed to provide services and supplies to the nearby Psi Min facilities, but the bar Dani led them to was ideal. Quiet, rustic, blessedly cool and considerably dimmer than the blazing afternoon and the superb pale ale, brewed on the premises, quenched thirsts and help relax overly tense muscles.
It took less than an hour for the adrenaline to wear off and leave a group of flagging cadets, which Misha, Jager and Sasha herded out of the building and to the teleporter. Once they reached the Academy, they trudged their way to the mess. They ate their food without tasting it and headed to their individual quarters, falling into their beds, most of them asleep before their heads hit the pillows. They had three days to recuperate before their next drill.
“A Squadron,” their official designation, stepped off the teleporter pad to a familiar sight. Jensen, Jared, Dani and Katie stood shoulder to shoulder around the tactical holotable, the hanger wide open behind them. Each drill session of the past two weeks, the four started much earlier than the others, reviewing logs, evaluating new formations, planning for present and future drills and adjusting timetables as necessary. The zero atmo sessions had yielded significant progress, the last two with no loss of net integrity regardless of the rapidly changing ship formations.
“Gunners don’t really matter,” Katie said. “The ships’ aft weapons aren’t the primary weapon in this case. Pilots can handle any significant forward interference with the forward cannons, and this is a frontal assault tactic.”
The three others hummed agreement, eyes focused on the display, seemingly unaware of the arrival of the twenty other members of the squadron. “You are certain you want to go ahead with atmo maneuvers?” Dani asked, the question obviously directed at Jensen and Jared.
“Yes,” they answered in unison, though Jensen continued. “One, we need a rapidly changing environment. Some stimuli beyond our control to force unplanned course corrections. And we have no guarantee that all silicate encounters will take place in zero atmo. Especially when they figure out what we are up to.”
“We have clearance to use Cavalor Canyon,” Katie added. The display changed to show the impressively serpentine gorge. “It’s a common pilot training area, very challenging, but these ships have the latest safety equipment, so collisions with walls or obstacles aren’t an issue. If you are certain we are ready for this step, we have the canyon for the next three hours. After that, we return to hangar. No delays.”
All of the squadron had gathered around to see their destination. Jensen and Jared had already loaded a sim to see what the challenges for net integrity would be. Three simulated runs later, Jared pointed to three spots. “These three areas will disrupt the pattern. That starboard protrusion requires three of the ships to move to port quickly, one moving farther in than the others.”
Jensen rubbed his chin, and then crossed his arms across his chest as he contemplated the problem. “If Jared or I take that outside position, we could maintain the net. We might as well get used to doing things like this. Once this tactic goes live, this kind of change will be common.”
“So who’s it gonna be?” Katie asked.
“I’ll do it,” Jensen said. “Alona will take my position further center.” Jared nodded his agreement.
“Alright,” Dani said, “But we structure our formations also based on skill and comfort. Frankly, I need Katie to stay port, so you will fly with her this round. Nicki and Alona will move center.”
“So, for this flight,” Jensen offered, “Basically, Alona and I are switching pilots.”
“Yes,” Katie answered. ”Ships and pilots remain unchanged, gunners swap.”
For the next ten minutes, the command team covered the new strategies, challenges and changes for this drill. Once questions had been answered and everyone felt comfortable with what was expected of them, the fighters lifted off the hangar floor and darted out across the dunes.
It took less than five minutes to reach Cavalor Canyon. The gorge meandered like a jagged, black scar across the glistening white surface of Lyrea for over one hundred kilometers. At seven kilometers deep and less than one wide, it provided a superb place for pilots to push their limits. Dani and Nicki’s ships took the forward position, the others arranging behind them as they entered the canyon proper, sheer rock walls climbing high on either side.
“Test run one,” Dani’s voice came over the coms, “Hit this at speed pilots. We want to see how quickly the net can adjust and maintain integrity. One run through and back. Save the acrobatics for the second run.”
Everything went like clockwork. The stone cliffs blurred at the incredible speed of the fighters. As promised, the topography of the canyon forced the ships to move rapidly, back and forth, positions shifting to avoid stone obstacles and to keep from colliding with other ships. The three sharp elbow turns required everyone’s utmost attention. The pilots, having flown together for years, handled the changes more effortlessly then their new gunners, but with some quick responses from Jensen and Jared, they prevented disintegration (of the net?). The first switchback forced the port ships inward, the other ships rising and falling to accommodate them. The second one was much like the first. The third and most difficult switchback almost disrupted the net, but once Jensen compensated, the fighters moved to spin around and reverse their courses back through the canyon.
The ship configuration had to be flipped, moving Jensen’s wing aft instead of port. At the first rapid maneuver, the net sputtered. Jared called out on coms “Jensen! Are you okay?” His counterpart rubbed his head, the sharp pain there and in his chest not abating. He needed to push through this. Jared knew damned well he wasn’t okay, but neither of them would end the drill until the pain became more acute.
As the aft ships moved back into position, all braced for the next switchback. The aft wing moved perfectly, avoiding the rocky protrusion, the other ships shifting precisely for the change. The pain in Jensen’s head and heart exploded. A brilliant flash blinded everyone, and instantly a node was gone. Before anyone’s vision cleared, another flash of light and the most agonized scream they had ever heard blared over the coms.
“Pull up!” Dani screamed. “All fighters pull up! Abort! Abort!”
The blast had knocked several of the ships off their trajectories, but the quick reflexes of the pilots had them shooting straight up out of the confining stone walls into the wide open desert plain.
A cacophony of voices blared over coms, demanding to know what had happened, but one sounded more frantically than the others.
“Clear coms,” Dani yelled in her most authoritative voice.
“Mayday!” another voice could now be heard screaming. “I’ve lost my canopy! My controls aren’t responding!”
Dani switched her ship to emergency auto-pilot, the command engaging the artificial guidance systems on all the remaining ships. She saw on her display that all ships, including the wounded one were now gliding back to the hangar. Then cold horror gripped her.
Only ten ships showed on sensors.
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