CassaSeries

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Six others who’d failed the prior session joined the men. Pilots and navigators received two opportunities to complete their final training, and out of the fourteen who failed the previous session, six returned to try again. Their presence sent a message to the new group that failure was a very real possibility at this juncture. Those not progressing past simulator training dropped out of their own accord; however, young men sent home from Guaard did not leave of their own volition.

Byron already possessed certified as a basic pilot, but flying transports or recovery ships held not appeal to him. He’d endured enough restraints on his life. He wanted the power and freedom a Cosbolt represented. Failure to achieve his goal was not an option at this point.

It came as a disappointment to learn that the first week would be spent in the classroom and simulators. Officer Bassa stated he wanted to view their simulator skills firsthand. The drills were difficult but not outside the maneuvers he’d already mastered. The classroom study covered new aspects of flight, a small consolation. The absence of real cockpit time became the topic of choice over meals, but Byron refrained from adding his protests. He preferred not to call attention to himself unless it involved an achievement.

The only team to achieve a perfect score on their final simulator test, Byron and Trindel’s precision continued on Guaard. While he despised personal, individual scrutiny, Byron relished the opportunity to show off his skills in the cockpit. As the week progressed, his confidence grew. Basking in the glory, he believed his team’s abilities beyond question.

By the end of the first week, they emerged from the simulator triumphant. Not only had they completed another practice drill without error, but Byron believed he exhibited several complicated and daring moves in the process. Performing several jumps by way of the ship’s teleporter, he emerged at the precise location every time. All targets destroyed and they’d completed their task within the allotted time frame. In Byron’s mind, their run showed perfection.

Trindel removed his helmet, revealing curly locks now plastered to his head. “We’re good!” he said, flashing one of his broad grins.

Byron removed his own helmet and tossed back his head. Running fingers through his straight, black hair, he caused the strands to stick out in an unnatural pattern. Grinning at his navigator, Byron straightened his shoulders with pride.

“No, I’d say we’re perfect,” he said, holding up his fist.

Trindel returned his gesture and they tapped knuckles. As one, the young men walked toward the control room. Byron predicted another report of excellence on his team’s record.

Officers Rellen and Char monitored their flight today and awaited the men in the control room. It surprised Byron to discover Bassa also present. The young men snapped to attention, aware their casual posture would be viewed as unacceptable by the senior instructor. Bassa noted their entrance, his gaze once again returning to the series of monitors in the control room. Rellen and Char remained seated but leaned away from the main panel. Byron waited for one of the men to speak.

“Adequate run,” said Bassa, his gaze still averted.

Byron suppressed the indignation that arose in his thoughts. “Yes, sir,” he replied in unison with Trindel.

Officer Bassa straightened his shoulders, a frown on his face. He turned to face the young men, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You performed numerous jumps,” he said, meeting Byron’s eyes.

“I do what I feel is necessary to succeed, sir,” Byron said, ready to defend his decisions.

Bassa’s eyes narrowed. “A good pilot cannot rely solely on the teleporter. You must learn to master maneuvers.”

“Yes, sir,” said Byron, taking a quick breath. “We did perform twenty-seven unique maneuvers during that flight, sir.”

A flash of panic burst from Trindel but shielded before it travelled beyond Byron. Bassa’s eyebrows pulled together, reflecting his disapproval of the unsolicited statement. Realizing he’d spoken out of turn, annoyance rose in Byron’s thoughts. He didn’t want to incur the senior officer’s wrath but resented criticism of his skills. He’d flown perfectly today.

“Perhaps you’d prefer an opportunity to showcase those maneuvers,” Bassa said, his tone implying it was an order rather than an offer. “Officer Char, please run number 789 with the teleporter offline.”

“Yes, sir!”

Unable to respond, Byron stared in silence as Char punched in the code for the program. Bassa gestured for Byron and Trindel to return to the simulator, and they exited the control room with great reluctance.

Well, didn’t take you long to annoy Bassa, Trindel thought privately.

Always start at the top, Trindel…

Byron knew he’d been too quick with his boastful words. Upon reaching the simulator entrance, he paused and glanced up at the control room. Byron grasped his helmet and placed in on his head before nodding at Trindel.

Regardless, we’ll ace this run, he said, not bothering to shield his thought.

In the control room, Rellen leaned away from the main panel and shook his head. Pivoting in his chair, he looked up at Bassa.

“Yes, he’s damned cocky!” Rellen said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Boy knows how to push it to the limit, too.”

Still frowning, Bassa watched Byron and Trindel enter the simulator and close the hatch. His eyes dropped to the screens across the main panel and located the pilot’s feed. Already in position, Byron prepared for the drill. There was no mistaking the look of confidence and determination on his face.

“We need to redraw the lines then,” Bassa said in a firm voice.

He remained in the control room while Byron and Trindel performed their run. Their execution was not precision-perfect this time, but the men committed no errors and accomplished the objective within the allotted time. When the session ended, both pilot and navigator appeared quite smug.

“He’s not going to make it easy for us,” Char said with a moan.

“It’s only the first week,” Bassa said, turning to depart. “We will correct that attitude.”

Exiting the control room, he left the simulator area in haste. That final run cut into the evening meal, although the loss of food did not concern him. Bassa preferred to spend the evening hours reviewing the day’s performances, analyzing each team’s weaknesses and strengths. Tonight he required extra time to study Byron and Trindel’s runs in detail. He needed every scrap of evidence if he intended to find flaws in Byron’s next drill beyond multiple jumps. Cocky or not, the boy exhibited incredible skill as a pilot.

The following morning, the men reported to the classroom as scheduled. Byron experienced delight when only an hour was devoted to instruction, and most of it focused on proper conduct in the hangar. Bassa concluded the session with a stern warning of the consequences of improper behavior or failure to follow procedures when in the presence of the fighter ships. After the previous evening’s experience, Byron did not doubt his threat.

Trindel’s eagerness secured them a position at the front of the line as they exited the lift. Officer Jarth led the young men into the hangar, emerging near the bay housing the Cosbolts. Byron noticed Officers Bassa and Rellen already waiting. Only officers were allowed access to the teleporters and the two men had taken advantage of the device. Were he not so eager to view his ship, Byron might’ve resented the restrictions placed upon uncertified trainees. However, viewing the Cosbolts up close took precedence over all else.

The young men joined the senior officers, snapping to attention once assembled. Bassa surveyed the pilots and navigators, observing each one’s reaction. For the majority of those gathered, this was their first time in the presence of an actual fighter.

“In the time remaining before the midday meal,” said Bassa, his voice echoing across the empty hangar, “you will become familiar with your ship and the feel of the instruments. Do not rush through the opportunity to explore your ship at length. Use this time wisely.

“Officer Rellen will announce ship assignments,” he concluded, stepping aside.

Rellen held up his computer pad, his eyes on the screen. “Surren and Arenth, ship number 479T. Ganst and Forcance, number 512T.”

The instructors gestured for those called to proceed to their ships. Byron waited while several other teams were called, anxious to touch his Cosbolt. Trindel’s excitement threatened to bubble over, and Byron cautioned his navigator to reign in his emotions. Their names would be called soon.

“Vitar and Hasen, number 143T,” Rellen said, his gaze never leaving his computer pad.

Patience eroding, Byron glanced at Officer Bassa and realized the senior instructor watched him. Averting his eyes, Byron suppressed his annoyance. He didn’t need extra duties or lessons foisted upon his team their very first day with the Cosbolts.

They were the last team assigned to a ship. Officer Rellen observed the men with intense curiosity as the moved toward number 715T, the only remaining unclaimed fighter in the hangar. Byron sensed his navigator’s impatience but forced a slow and deliberate stroll to their Cosbolt. He didn’t want to give Bassa or Rellen the satisfaction of knowing the wait had irritated him.

Trindel reached the ship first, his hand touching the wing with care. He hesitated, as if afraid, and turned to Byron. Seeing the elation in his navigator’s eyes, Byron rested his hand on the underside of the wing. Cold to the touch, the metal sent an invigorating shock through his fingers. Byron allowed a slow smile to spread across his lips and Trindel returned his grin with unbridled enthusiasm. With a gasp, Trindel turned and grasped the ladder.

No, Byron thought, sending his navigator a private message. We have almost two hours. Let’s show the instructors we’re proficient and take our time.

Trindel’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide in protest. His shoulders slumped and he nodded, releasing the ladder. Taking a deep breath, Trindel moved toward the ship’s nose. Byron elected to explore the ship’s propulsion first.

Circling the wing, Byron ran his hand down the side of the vessel, delighting in the feel of the surface. He reached the engines and paused to admire the propulsion system. He envisioned the engines ablaze with fire, and the power required to thrust the ship forward in space fascinated him. Soon, that power would be at his disposal.

He continued around the far side of the ship, nodding at Trindel as they passed. Byron inspected the weapons system, which consisted of two rocket launchers under each wing and the laser under the nose. Byron glanced at the runners as he circled the front of the ship and discovered Trindel waiting by the ladder. Byron smiled and gestured for his navigator to proceed.

Trindel required no further prompting and scrambled up to the platform. Byron followed at a slower pace, trying to exhibit some control. By the time he had a clear view of the cockpit, Trindel sat at his station. Flashing his navigator a wry grin, he swung into the pilot’s seat and wedged himself into position. When situated, Byron examined the console.

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 with a critical difference. This was the real thing.

Doesn’t look much different, Trindel thought.

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

At that moment, he became aware of the teleporter. The device was self-sufficient and engaged at all times. Its power emanated from behind Trindel’s seat, 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 trained on the teleporter during their year in simulation, 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, a surge of power occurred in his mental abilities. In that brief instant, he 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 hangar, are you?