**
“Hit me like you mean it!” Stoneman said.
We were padded up and on the fighting mat together. Throughout our years in the police academy, Andy and I had sparred many times before but this was definitely our most intense session. I had usually got the better of him. Over the years, I had plenty of extra training with my father. I’m sure that had frustrated Andy even more. The others watched us from just off the mat.
“If that’s what you want, you’ll get it!” I said.
Stoneman advanced towards me. He led with a sidekick aimed at the solar plexus. I spun to the right and his leg slid off me, sending him off balance. I continued spinning around and gave him a left arm whip to the back. Doug and Martina chuckled slightly. Stoneman kept himself from falling off balance and quickly reversed his direction, coming back towards me.
I had been a little too lackadaisical, perhaps gloating a little over my first successful move, and he caught me off guard. He came up close to me, too close for me to punch him with momentum; and he powered his right elbow with a quick twist of his shoulder and caught me above my chest protection right in the throat. I felt it tighten right away and I fell to the ground gasping. I was on my hands and knees, fighting to breathe properly.
“It’s not time for a rest Jonz,” he said.
He was looking at the others with a smirk when I turned and lunged at him, tackling him with a shoulder to the gut. I heard a loud “ooff” as I felt the wind get completely knocked out of him. We were down on the ground and I was sitting on top of him. I put my hands around his throat and started to squeeze. I felt my father’s strong hand grab my forearm and pull my arm off him.
“Enough!” my father ordered.
Stoneman and I fell apart, coughing and panting, lying on the mat.
“I like to see that intensity,” my father said, “but next time, save it for the enemy. You don’t have to love--or even like--everybody on your team. But make no mistake, your life depends on working with them. So you better direct that energy towards the enemy if you want to survive. Now shake hands.”
Stoneman and I got up and half-heartedly at first, shook hands. I gripped Andy’s hand stronger and he reciprocated.
“We'll have one last Covert simulation session,” my father announced.
He clicked the remote and all four doors to the Covert whirred up, opening up a view of the cockpit inside. We climbed into the vehicle.
“Stoneman, you’re navigator today,” my father said.
After the four of us were buckled in the doors whirred shut again. There was a click as all doors sealed shut in unison.
“Entering simulation mode,” announced the soft voice of the information system.
The windshield and all the windows lost their transparency as they faded to black. Momentarily, it was pitch black in the Covert, only the faint multi-coloured lights of the control panels dimly lighting the cockpit. I looked over at Andy. He was staring at the control panels, his jaws chomping with tension. I could feel the thudding of the podium hydraulics grabbing on to the Covert vehicle.
“Simulation mode entered,” the information system voice confirmed.
Within seconds, the blackness dispersed as the windshield and windows filled with a mountain view of the landscape just outside the Earth dome. We were out beyond the protection of the Earth dome. I could feel my heart rate increase, the sensation was so real--and I wanted to get this right. The sky was clear with a few puffy clouds. All around us the jagged peaks of the Rockies were potentially hiding places for terrorists.
“Prepare for everything team, you’re on your own,” my father’s voice beamed into the cockpit.
“Stoneman, make sure you monitor the surrounding air space,” I said.
“Roger,” he responded.
“The known aircraft possessed by the terrorists has accurate firepower within 5 kilometres. We should adjust our screens accordingly,” Martina added.
“Agreed,” I said. “Adjust all screens to a six kilometre view.”
“There has been a missile attack coming from the following coordinates,” the information system voice droned. The coordinates appeared on the top of our screens.
“Navigator, set destination to the target coordinates,” I said.
The RMD-driven Covert vehicle headed towards the enemy.
“The coordinates were unusually far away for a missile attack directed towards the Earth base,” I said.
“This has set-up written all over it,” Doug said.
“Let’s make sure we do our jobs carefully then,” Martina said.
“There was rarely any return fire from the target coordinates. The terrorists know to retreat quickly. If we got there quickly enough, we can get them before they had the time to leave,” I said.
We attained a proper attack distance from the target coordinates.
“Prepare to drop the shields and fire,” I said. “Stoneman, monitor the screen and surrounding area for any enemy aircraft. Lever and Lloyd, check the surrounding areas, mountains and sky. Let’s be safe before we drop the shields.”
“Enemy aircraft spotted within their attack distance, Captain,” Stoneman said.
“I knew it,” Doug yelled.
“Reset vehicle trajectory towards enemy aircraft,” I said. “Lever, Lloyd, continue to monitor screens for any other enemy while we neutralize the enemy aircraft.”
We redirected the Covert towards the enemy aircraft. I felt beads of sweat building on my forehead. My palms were sweaty, my heart was pounding.
“Drop the shields Stoneman.”
“Roger, Captain.”
The shields were down. I readied my thumb on the trigger as soon as the information system voice announced the target coordinates were locked in.
I fired.
“Direct hit Captain.”
The crew let out a cheer but it was stifled almost immediately as Stoneman said, “Two enemy aircraft entering zone. One from the north, one from the south.”
The two enemy aircraft were already within firing range.
“They've sufficient time to fire and possibly destroy our vehicle before the shields have time to activate,” I said. I grabbed the manual joystick and pulled back, shooting the Covert up into the air. I heard the whoosh of missiles narrowly missing the undercarriage of the Covert.
“Set target coordinates to projected position of the enemy aircraft to the north in five seconds,” I ordered.
“Projected coordinates set,” Stoneman answered.
“One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five.”
I fired.
Another direct hit.
I continued to fly manually. I swooped down.
“Put shields back up Stoneman.”
“Shields back up Captain.”
I felt the warm security blanket of our shields.
“Stabilize vehicle just within range of enemy aircraft, Stoneman.”
Andy entered the coordinates and the Covert quickly achieved the target coordinates. It was an agile vehicle. We could move around with great efficiency; so much so that the outdated enemy vehicle moved as if it was in molasses. In numbers, the enemy could create problems, but alone they were in big trouble.
“Set target coordinates for the other enemy aircraft. Lloyd, Lever, make sure there are no more enemy entering radar detection.”
“Target coordinates set Captain,” Stoneman said.
I fired.
A direct hit.
“All crew, continue to monitor for enemy entering within the five kilometre zone.”
The windshield and windows blackened.
“Mission successfully completed. Congratulations. Simulation ended.”
I looked sideways at Andy Stoneman. His mouth was hanging open. He looked at me and his gaping mouth turned into a sly smile. He shoved my shoulder. “Maybe you won’t kill us after all, Jonz.”
“Maybe not, Stoneman, maybe not.”