executing our battle plan as it's currently devised."
"We shouldn't have Jumped," Mak said, without thinking. Then realized nobody had really asked him. "Uh, sir."
"We're all in agreement there," Suth said, gritting his teeth. "Tar's decision."
Exiting Jump Space was not an option. Once the Jump was in progress, there was no way to abort. At least if living was important. There'd been attempts to prematurely terminate a Jump. Bad things happened. Nothing living had survived and no Human trials had ever been attempted.
For better or worse, they were committed.
The X had her orders. Battle Group Cobra would split into the three Dimes at the Jump Exit. They would proceed at full speed to the objective, engage the enemy until they were destroyed or driven off, then secure the planet.
In the squad briefing held in a large conference room usually reserved for movies, the squad pilots all nodded their appreciation of the simple plan. It would be easier to throw away. Everyone knew their intel would be at least nine shifts old. Command may have based their plan on ancient history.
Mak hadn't foreseen one problem. The mech's were unable to move his pod out of Sha's bay. As one of them had said, "We're going to put up some signs outside. Only one pod at a time, dammit!"
Without two pilots, Blue Box would not be in the first wave. The tech's were sure they could extract the pods and have them working within hours of exiting Jump Space. Sha and Mak weren't happy. Neither were the other Blue Box pilots. At least they got to launch and not have to stand around twiddling their thumbs.
"Anybody see Brenn?" somebody yelled from the back of the room.
"I saw Elvis." There was laughter. Mostly from the Hellborne. Some looked at Mak but he just shrugged and smiled. Who was Elvis, he thought.
Diego had his usual look of impatience. He wanted a serious demeanor in the briefings. Telli had been a good Chief but too lax in his judgment. He was going to make sure there was more discipline.
"Listen up," he shouted finally getting their attention. "This Gold Ghost development is probably some sort of a Kyrzal trick. And with the disappearance of Gold Ghost leader, Security has given permission for all personnel to carry small arms."
There was some smirking. Most of the pilots had already started carrying around small arms. Jackets had suddenly become very popular.
"Make sure you adhere to all safety protocols. Are there any questions?"
There were none and the pilots jumped up thinking the meeting was over. Diego tried to say something more. Realizing Diego was trying to relay some sort of motivational speech, Mak stayed out of common courtesy. Though it might've been because he was too sore to cut and run like the others had. The speech dribbled off when there were too few pilots left. Diego stalked away.
Jump Out was in twelve hours so most of the pilots were going to ready themselves for battle. Some ate. Others would work out. Or sleep. Some would be checking out Aphros.
Mak liked to familiarize himself with the intended field of battle. He wandered towards Squad Ops. The ship's heart beat had quickened. More people moved hurriedly through the corridors. He never knew what the crew was doing, but they were doing it quicker. The Soldiers disappeared from their usual haunts of mayhem. They too moved with intensity.
The recuperatives he'd ingested were ninety per cent done with their job. He could almost move without wincing. He nodded at the duty Squad Ops Commander and her personnel there. They'd gotten used to his tradition of looking over their shoulder. Telli had even said he'd be a good Ops. The thought caused his stomach to churn. He made his way to the Briefing Room where Telli had died. The room was dimly lit. He sat in the chair where Telli always used to sit, and looked up. Nobody could have snuck in here, opened up a ceiling pane, and planted a device. The other glass wall looked out on the Bridge. Anybody could have seen them.
He tried to clear his thoughts. It had to be an accident. Just an accident.
On the Big Board which was just a preview of things to come, he could see the enemy ships orbiting the planet. They appeared to be marked as non-combatants. There didn't seem to be any other Kyrzal ships around. This should be easy he thought. Should. Once the Kyrzal ships were confirmed harmless or destroyed, the Soldiers were supposed to make planet fall. The Big Board didn't say where. If the intel was right, then this seemed to be like hitting a flea with a sledgehammer. A dead flea at that. And he saw nothing on the planet surface worthwhile.
The Hammers and Raptors were going to take out the dead ships. The pods weren't even going to be involved. They were just reconnaissance. This system had only one planet which was a little odd. And a couple of asteroid belts. Rock clouds.
He hoped this was as easy as it looked. As he started to get up, his hand strayed under the seat where he touched a seat label the techs hadn't removed. He tore it off. Just had the Factory's tracking number on it. He was about to throw it in a recycler when he paused. Then tossed it into the recycler
Nobody could plant a device in the ceiling. They'd be seen. But maybe somebody could put a blaster under the seat. Pointed up at the right target, it would kill or wound Telli first, then hit the conduit. The plasma would destroy all the evidence. That would explain why she hadn't been killed instantly.
"Could work," said Th'han'dra thoughtfully, when he proposed it to her. They were in his cubicle so he could see what she thought. It sounded too crazy to bring up to the entire team. "Wouldn't be a blaster. Too big. Something small to not be noticed but powerful enough to do the damage."
"Yeah, it'd still require some pretty precise aiming," he said. "And you'd have to make sure it was her not somebody else."
He rubbed his eyes trying to get his headache to shift some.
"Here, turn around," she said.
He turned his back to her and let her massage his neck.
"Suppose it wasn't meant for her," she said.
He had closed his eyes and let her strong hands take away some of the tension. D'ha'ren skin was oddly smooth. "You think they were just trying to randomly kill whoever sat in that chair?
"Don't you always sit in that chair?"
"Yeah, when Telli doesn't, I mean didn't. But hell, other people must sit there all the time. You sit there some of the time."
"I suppose."
"Besides why would anybody want to kill me? I don't know crap."
"That's certainly true."
"Hey!" But not loudly. Th'han'dra's hands were really good. They pushed heat into his bones.
"Okay, Boss. Time for some shut eye."
"Okay, you too," he murmured.
She looked at his sleeping form, keeping her secret to herself a little longer, then exited his cube.
His last day of school was close to his tenth birthday. The last of his education credits had finally run out. The school was just too full. They'd allowed him to sit in the classes this day. Not enough chairs as usual, so he sat on the floor where he could see the image projected up onto a dirty screen. Most of the kids wanted to be there. It was a chemistry class. If you tested good enough, then you got more credits to carry on. But Mak knew he didn't have the scores. Few of the kids did. At least he could read some and do arithmetic a bit. He could use a computer and knew a little science.
Looking around, he counted the students to test himself. There were seventy-three students in the tiny class room all listening to the lecture. It was laughable since the lecturer would say things like, "Pick up your number three beaker and do so and so with it." Nobody here had any beakers. But at least he could watch and see what was supposed to happen. The lecturer said there'd be a short break. A commercial came on about working in the factories for people who wanted a job. It didn't look like bad work and you didn't need bunches of classes to apply for a position. The smiling man and woman were also pretty funny. Money, they said, will set you free. He'd seen that particular factory. It ran night and day churning junk out for the Upper Levels. Another commercial came on. This one was about the Armed Forces. This was
more like it. He'd have to get older though. They didn't take kids like him yet. But the uniformed guy said the pay was good and they had free food. Maybe they had a place to stay too.
He'd already figured out what he'd do. The security around the school was pitiful. He was going to sneak in and watch classes. It wasn't that he really wanted more learning. It was the fact they tried to keep him out. That was the challenge. Another commercial about a new soda drink. The commercials were always so bright and loud. Way better quality than the lectures. He figured it was because the lectures were old. Maybe things didn't change much. What was true today, was true yesterday, and the day before that. And would be true tomorrow as well.
A couple of guards dozed at the front of the class. Their uniforms were old and shabby. Boring and dangerous work but, hell, something which brought in money. They propped their feet up on the desk resting their guns across their laps. The teacher and his guards wouldn't reappear until next week, so he'd miss him. School was only three days a week. Not that the teacher would know him at all. He was just some old guy who showed up and tried not to get killed. He also taught English, History, Geography and whatever else floated around. The poor guy was determined to get something across no matter how pathetic his attempts were. Mak wondered if they paid him enough.
His favorite class was geography. They showed pictures about places all over the