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Everyone knew that Palisade Station was old. What was surprising was that even after two centuries of almost continual operation there were parts of the stations that looked brand new. With glistening metal bulkheads, doors that didn't screech as they opened and rooms full of clean smelling air.
The pilots lounge was not one of those areas. Six months of living by anywhere between thirty and fifty pilots had utterly demolished the place. Samantha Cares didn't mind it though. It gave the room a personality, a character. In the way the mess, abandoned clothing here, a spill from a nights drinking there, was a memorial for those pilots who had passed to the void. Although she still wished someone would do something about the smell.
“Tricky.” Marack, who was sitting across from her table staring at the chess board leaned back in his seat. “You have to admit that.”
“Yes.” She said with a wary grin. “You are in a very tricky position. Some people might say that it's guaranteed defeat after you make your next move, and that your just bending the rules to try and snatch victory from a clear and utterly complete defeat.”
“How am I bending the rules?”
“There are only three moves you can make-”
“And I can't decide which one is best.” He said just a little too quickly.
“All of them lead to you loosing.”
“And?”
“And you're just hoping that the alarm sounds and we have to get to our ships. That way we can call it at least a draw.” Marack opened his mouth to shout a denial but she caught his eye before he could even get started. He sighed, and just for a moment that shell of bravado he held on so tightly vanished.
“You have to admit, a call to scramble to our fighters is my only option at this point.”
“Just make your move and we'll call it. Then we can go again.” She tried to hide the hope that was carrying that last sentence. Sikes had told everyone in the squadron to give Marack some breathing room, and most of the pilots had agreed with her request. Not that it was difficult to do, Marack did his best to ignore everyone at the best of times. Especially after he and his wingman Vent, had come to blows after a difficult mission. Vent, and the circle of pilots that he'd collected, hadn't spoken to Marack since. Cares however saw the difference between giving Marack some breathing room, and ostracizing him from the rest of the squadron.
“I don't give up.” He said. Cares sighed and shook her head.
“How about this. If something happens in the next five minute I'll concede and you win, if not then you do the unthinkable and give up and we can start all over again.” Marack shrugged.
“Fine.” There was a minute of silence as Marack just stared down at the board, a strangely hurt expression on his face. She leaned back in her chair, listening to the other conversations around the room. Vent was giving a passionate talk about how Irakillion was trying to remove them from the nebula to replace them with robots. Another pilot, Taint, was trying to poke holes in his argument.
“But why don't they just build some AI fighters right now to kill us?” He said earnestly. Vent opened his mouth to respond, and then realized he had no answer. “It has to be cheaper than just sending in wave after wave of real, living pilots.”
Marack sighed, shifted up out of his seat and stared at the conversation. When it was clear that no one had anyway to refute the possibility of a AI invasion he spoke up.
“Because Drones aren't as good as human pilots.” He said, his voice dripping with boredom, as if he was trying to teach a idiotic child.
“You can make them good enough.” Taint shot back instantly.
“No, you can't. Any AI that can beat a human at a higher functioning task is considered sentient and so is given automatic and full citizenship in the AI Enclaves. The Enclaves won't take part in any act of genocide. They'll haul you in for war crimes if they catch a whiff of anything like that.” Marack sat back down in his chair and ignored the silence that fell. It broke a minute later when Vent made a quiet joke and half a dozen pilots laughed just loud enough to be a little forced.
“Looks like your luck has run out.” Cares said. Wondering if Marack might call the game a minute early just so he could pretend he wasn't a sore loser.
“Maybe.” Cares glanced at the board just in time to see a datapad landing unceremoniously on top of it, scattering half a dozen pieces across the table with a crack. She looked up to see Sikes standing over them, glaring at Marack. The luckiest man alive leaned back in his chair and cracked a smile at Cares.
“Great timing as ever Captain.” He said.
“What the hell is this?” Sikes said, poking a finger at the datapad.
“Looks like a Mark II Data Recorder, Captain.” Sikes put both her fists on the table and leaned over Marack.
“Don't play stupid. You sent this to Admiral Raec didn't you.”
“Yes.”
“And APRA.”
“I thought that our illustrious rulers should know as well.” Sikes nudged the datapad closer to him.
“You thought that they would want to know this drivel?”
“Careful Captain. That drivel took me three days to put together.” Cares, aware that she was still considered a green pilot took a deep breath and tried to sink into her seat. Sikes saw the movement and glared down at her.
“Should I leave?” She asked, her eyes flicking between both of them. She tried to shift her chair back an inch, and found that Marack had put his foot behind one of the chair's legs. But it was Sikes who spoke next.
“Stay. I don't want you wondering what this was all about and then spreading rumors through the squadron.” She turned to Cares and grimaced. “I don't want a word of this leaking out to anyone. Understood?”
“Yes Captain.”
“Good. First of all Marack, where and when did you get the Irakillion training manual?”
“Their pilots lounge, last week.”
“Second of all, what do you think this analysis will accomplish. All it is is some conjecture that Irakillion are training the Bellicose.”
“Evidence Sikes, the word your looking for is evidence.” There was a harshness in Marack's voice now. He looked ready to fight his commanding office. Sikes stared down at him, struggling to hide an expression of disbelief. “You can see clearly the Bellicose adopting every single new maneuver a week after this manual was published. Every single one. It's right there in our flight recorder logs. That's enough to demand from Exodus station the FTL Sensor Net's data on the Bellicose's jumps.”
“And what if Exodus station just says no?”
“Then we attack them and take the data ourselves.” Sikes laughed.
“You're not that good.” But even to Cares she didn't sound convincing. “Listen to me Marack, you are not to pursue this, you are not to talk about it, you are not even going to waste another second thinking about it. Just do your damned job. Understood?”
“Not really Captain.”
“Talk again and I'll have you shipped back to your colony within a day. Understand that?”
“Fine Sikes, whatever you say.” His voice was like a storm waiting to break.
“Cares, your responsible for making sure he doesn't talk.” Cares gulped and nodded.
“Understood Captain.”
“In fact,” Sikes glanced behind her where Vent was playing cards. “Vent?”
“Yeah Captain?”
“You're now my wingman, Cares will be with Marack.”
“T
hank god for that.” Vent said loudly.
“What's the matter Marack, afraid you're not good enough to keep our newest pilot alive?” Cares glanced at Marack just in time to see his fallen expression evaporate into a grin.
“No captain, you’ll have a harder time keeping Vent going. He always gets tired of fighting after a few minutes. He can't cope with the adrenalin. Cares is already twice the pilot he is.”
“Whatever you say.” Sikes turned to her. “No offense, but you are sill new and Vent has proven his worth to me more than Marack has.” Without another word she turned and left. Cares kept an eye on her as she joined Vent's table and began playing whatever card game was running.
“You don't have to try and make me look good in front of the Captain, Marack.” Cares said just to break the silence. “But thanks anyway.”
“To be honest.” Marack said, all bravado gone from his voice, “I'd rather have you than Vent. The guy's an idiot. The deck crew hate him.”
“Why's that?” She asked, not really that concerned. The pilots and deck crew didn't get on at the best of times.