Chapter Seven
Mabraant, Mabra System, Fazaal Sector, Gaashox Quadrant
Trindall, the chief engineer, was waiting in the crew room for the return of his rebels, as he liked to call them. They weren’t really rebellious, but every spare moment they had they would spend working on their own ships rather than find other jobs for the company, and he had no intent to stop them. The quality and speed of their work was such that if he did, there would be far less work for the other engineers, and additional work was in short supply at the moment. In truth, he was pleased they had other interests, and were not reliant on their income as the others were, especially those with families.
He was proud of their ability, the desire to improve their knowledge of engineering, and the achievements attained on their own ships. It reflected not only on them, but on him and the reputation of the company. One other reason why Trindall allowed them such freedom was due to the ‘extra’ Grogaan had added to the cost of the ships and equipment, which he insisted be used to cover part of his three friends’ salaries, knowing how much of their working time they spent on their ships.
Trindall knew Grogaan quite well, being the son of a good friend of his, Ruebern Learman, and one whom he missed greatly. When the Krelathans first began attacking shipping, Ruebern had asked him if he would keep an eye on his son for him if the worst ever happened. Trindall agreed, but hoped it would not come to that. He was an extremely skilful pilot, one of the best, and his eldest son, Ben, was also a competent combat pilot, but even their skills were insufficient to keep them alive against overwhelming odds.
Trindall could still recall the days on which both of them had been killed. They had been heavily outnumbered and stood little chance of surviving the savagery of the Krelathan raiders, not that many did. First it was Ben then a week later, his father, whose good fortune finally ran out. Trindall shook the painful memories from his mind.
Yes, he liked the young man, and had plenty of time for him. Grogaan was so inquisitive, always wanting to know the ins and outs of everything mechanical, and learnt surprisingly quickly. Not only was he interested in the way the components worked, but also how they produced the desired results. So much so that he started to look into ways of improving the efficiency and capability of certain components.
Trindall, who was also the chief aircraft designer for Mabraant Engineering, was kept in his office most of the time by his research and development work. Despite this, he endeavoured to go into the maintenance hangar when time permitted. The work Grogaan’s team undertook was exceptional, and he was always intrigued by what modifications they would do to their own ships, and what discoveries the young engineer would make.
He was delighted with Grogaan’s decision to purchase the Manta Class Interceptors, having personally designed the new starfighter the year before Ruebern had been killed. Following his death, he incorporated several system improvements hoping it would give the MDF an advantage, but even he had not considered increasing the firepower.
The MCI was the latest and most advanced version of the older MCF, which was the standard fighter used by many of the police, security and military forces in the quadrant. The main problem was that the enemy had too many ships and always outnumbered the MDF by three or more to one. The result of each engagement was always the same: A loss of all ships. However, the primary benefit of the new starfighter was that more of the raiders were being destroyed, but they still lacked sufficient firepower to turn the tide in their favour.
Grogaan had attempted to improve the MDF’s starfighters as they were brought in for scheduled servicing, but the improvements he carried out only made a marginal difference in combat. This was due to the lack of funding available to the MDF, which prevented him purchasing the additional components required. Grogaan considered using some of his own finance from the dragon pearls, but he knew the authorities would become suspicious and ask awkward questions.
Trindall knew the financial restrictions angered Grogaan, but it spurred him into completing the work on his own starfighter as quickly as time permitted. He even tried altering maintenance schedules for them to facilitate the speedier completion of their ships. The Chief was extremely interested in the modifications the four men had done to their starfighters, but what he really wanted to know was how much of a difference it would make to their performance capabilities in a combat situation. His interest also stemmed from the fact that he had taught Grogaan how to modify power generators, lightspeed drive units, and other critical, complicated components that were usually repaired and modified by engineers who had spent years specialising in this field.
Grogaan had shown a particular talent in stripping, rebuilding, and modifying the most complicated pieces of equipment, which had impressed Trindall. He then spent considerable time researching lightspeed drive units and shield generators, discovering some interesting facts about them. The standard lightspeed drive units were actually variable in power output, which enabled a ship to gradually increased its velocity to lightspeed, usually at point two-five increments with a maximum velocity of two times the speed of light. Most units, however, were set for increases in jumps of point five increments, making the transition from sub-light to lightspeed jumpy.
With a little help from Trindall, Grogaan devised a new controller-board, which after many attempts, changed the characteristics of acceleration allowing an increase in velocity at point one increments, but they did not stop there. Soon, they had completely changed the acceleration curve to a smooth continuous climb, allowing the pilot to set the velocity to whatever was desired, and avoid the sudden jarring caused by the original controllers. Although the new versions were relatively inexpensive, the associated modifications to the cockpit controls were labour intensive, so only the four interceptors of Grogaan and his friends had been modified at this time.
The young man was also convinced there was a way in which the shield generators could be improved, thus increasing the shield strength considerably, but he felt it would be some time before he found the right combination of electronics and power regulators. He committed himself to finding it, regardless of how long it took.
The four pilots entered the crew room talking about their performance, their sudden appearance distracting Trindall from his thoughts.
“Chief Trindall, this is an unexpected surprise,” exclaimed Zaack. “What can we do for you?”
“First, you can tell me how you and the ships performed.”
“Brilliantly! Absolutely brilliantly,” boasted Doraant.
“That’s great news. All systems functioning correctly?” asked Trindall.
“All of them, thanks to your advice that is,” replied Grogaan, and sensed the Chief was feeling a little anxious. He looked at him curiously. “Something’s up, isn’t it?”
“Nothing serious if that’s what you mean, but I have been put in a rather awkward position.” He paused considering how best to continue. The others sat down, silently waiting on his words. “Before I go on, please tell me about the combat simulations, and how well you all did.”
“We did exceptionally, Chief,” said Zaack before the others could reply. “We all achieved times that put us in the top thirty, and all secured category one times. Well, three of us did, but Grogaan exceeded perfection! He recorded the fastest time ever recorded at the Facility by twenty seconds. Amazing isn’t he?”
“Congratulations to all of you! I knew you would perform well, but your performance was outstanding, Grogaan, just like your father. He was the previous record holder, both for the Academy and for the MDF.”
“Grogaan’s father was the previous record holder for both records? Well, it’s no wonder Grogaan’s so good,” said Eldaan. “It’s in his blood.”
Grogaan was as surprised as the others, but was more interested in hearing what was bothering Trindall and so pressed him on it.
“Okay Grogaan,” he said, relenting earlier than he intended. “As you know the MDF is becoming short of experienced pilots. Yes, there ar
e plenty of trainees and qualified pilots who have not yet been in real combat, but they don’t last long. So now they are looking for any other pilots, preferably with their own ships to assist them.”
Grogaan knew what the Chief was trying to say, and what was coming. “So, what’s that got to do with us?” he asked, his voice betraying his cynicism.
“They are formerly requesting your assistance in a matter of extreme importance,” said Trindall.
“If it’s that important, why are they requesting the services of inexperienced novices like us?” asked Doraant.
The Chief Engineer swallowed hard. “The commanding officers have already learnt of your performances at the training facility, and have agreed that turning down your application to join the Academy was an error in judgement.” The Chief knew this was not the real reason, but was unable to tell his young friend and thus break the promise he had made to Ruebern.
The day after Grogaan’s brother had been killed, Ruebern came to talk with Trindall, and revealed a startling fact. He had persuaded Dave to petition the Academy on his behalf, to purposefully turn down Grogaan’s applications for entry. This was something they were now loathe to continue doing because of the situation with the Krelathans, but would not break their promise.
“They know already?” asked Doraant. “We’ve only just left the place so how could they have heard? Of course! Captain Alfrenton didn’t waste time filing the report, did he?”
“They do, and no, he didn’t. Now, the senior commanders of the MDF are willing to accept your application and enrol you into the Academy, if that’s what you still want. Naturally, the training would be shorter than the average recruit because of your performance. However, whichever way you decide, they still formerly request your assistance.”
“Yes! At last,” cried Zaack. “Now we can finally join up together!”
Grogaan looked at his friend and shook his head. “That’s too bad. As I said before, I won’t be enrolling. We’ve proved we’re good enough without having to go through training.”
There were mutters of agreement at what Grogaan said, which shocked the older man. “You amaze me. I thought joining the Academy was what you always dreamed of?”
Grogaan was about to answer, but Eldaan spoke before he could say anything. “We did too. He told us about his decision at the training facility, and we were just as shocked.”
“But the Academy teaches more than just flying and simulated combat against drones,” said Trindall.
“Yes I know, but much of it you can learn outside military establishments, like here. The most important factor is self-discipline. Without it, there’s no hope of achieving success in anything. Anyway, actual combat is just one step beyond simulated combat, and my friends are more than competent. They are disciplined, capable of following orders without question, and would not run at the first sign of trouble. It still doesn’t change my decision.”
Trindall looked curiously at Grogaan. “Care to elaborate?”
He sighed heavily. “Fair enough, you deserve an explanation. They turn down my application on four occasions with no apparent reason, even when they don’t take on the full quota. Then they learn of our performance, and now when it suits them, they say they’ve made an error in judgement and think thinking I’ll jump at the opportunity to join. No way! If they can’t accept me on the basis of an application, then I’m not interested.”
The three other young men sat open mouthed, amazed at his response.
Although the Chief Engineer was surprised, he understood Grogaan’s point of view and admired him for standing by his decision. “There are reasons why your applications to join the Academy were never accepted, but unfortunately I am not at liberty to divulge them. However, on the results of your performance they were willing to overlook those reasons for the sole fact they are getting desperate for pilots, especially those who show skills which stand any chance of surviving against the Krelathans.”
Grogaan looked at his older friend, his eyes betraying his disappointment. The Chief had never withheld anything from him before so he knew it was something important, but said nothing. He saw the pain in Trindall’s eyes at not being able to divulge the real reasons for the rejections, and believed it must have something to do with his father. He was the only one his mother had left, with both Ben and his father dead. Everything seemed to make sense now, but it only served to make him angrier than he already was.
Doraant broke the silence. “What’s this important matter the MDF needs us for then, Chief? It must be dire for them to ask for us.”
Trindall nodded. “They need a starfighter squadron to escort a transport ship from Drolees to here, but, due to other commitments they have no spare ships they can divert to the task.”
“So the MDF, with I’d say over a hundred fighters based around the world, cannot spare six fighters? They can’t all be on duty,” said Doraant.
“Those considered capable of undertaking this mission are unavailable. Besides you have shown far greater capabilities than all of them,” said Trindall.
Eldaan frowned. “Yeah, sure. They want us to fly over to Drolees and escort the ship back to Mabraant because that’s all they think we’re good for.”
Trindall scowled at the young man. “Yes, they do require your services to do that, but even you must know the probability of it being attacked by raiders is very high.”
“I know it may seem a daft question, but if it’s coming from Drolees why can’t they supply the escort?” asked Doraant.
“That’s a reasonable question and there are two main reasons why they can’t: First, the transport is one of ours; second, Droleesan forces are more depleted than ours.”
“That makes sense. So what do they think our chances of success are? Surely even they know four starfighters won’t stand much chance of success, even with our performance,” said Doraant.
“They know there’s only a small chance of completing the mission, but they seem to think you may have the ability to succeed. Besides, you’re their last hope. If it makes you feel any better, they feel bad about asking you to fly a mission with such low odds,” said Trindall.
“Feel bad? I doubt it. They know there’s a high probability an escort squadron will be lost, and they don’t want to sacrifice any of their top pilots just in case they attack nearer to home,” said Grogaan.
“Surely there must be some chance. After all, we’re only flying to Drolees, and it ain’t that far,” said Eldaan.
Grogaan looked at his friends and asked, “don’t you know anything about the Drelena system?”
They shook their heads.
“Once you decelerate from lightspeed there’s a flight of about forty minutes, mostly at sub-lightspeed, navigating through two asteroid belts, and around dozens of planets and moons. Drolees is the closest planet to their sun.”
“A good place for being ambushed,” said Zaack.
“Exactly. It’s also very difficult to maintain lightspeed, although our new drive units will make it easier for us.” He paused to let them think about the dangers they would face. “Right then, what do you think? Shall we still do it knowing what you now know?”
They thought for a few more moments.
“I don’t know. With such low odds it seems far too risky,” said Eldaan.
“I feel the same way,” said Doraant, “but what the heck? If our time’s up, we’ll go sooner or later. At least I’ll go doing something that might make a difference.”
Zaack was deep in thought. “If you think it’s the right thing to do, I’m in. After all, isn’t it what we’ve dreamt about doing for so long?”
“Zaack’s right. It’s what we’ve been waiting for. So I’m prepared to go and prove those boffins at the Academy wrong. The choice is yours my friends.”
“Yeah, count me in,” said Doraant. “What have we got to lose?”
“Our lives, that’s what,” said Eldaan.
“Yeah, there is that. No one’s going to pressuri
se you Eldaan, and we’ll all accept your decision.”
“If I don’t agree, it’ll make it so much harder for you three, and I’ll never forgive myself for breaking up a great team.” He paused a moment. “Damn it and damn the Krelathans. Count me in.”
“Well Chief, we’ll do it but only if they agree to the following conditions.”
“And they are?”
“We get the full rate of pay for the time we engage in MDF activities, have the right to be called Kopaz Squadron and registered officially, and each of us holds the rank of Pilot Officer.”
“No that ain’t right, Grogaan. You must have the rank of Squadron Leader,” said Zaack.
“I don’t think so. Squadrons usually consist of two or more flights of three or four ships per flight.”
The Chief Engineer nodded gently. “Never-the-less, Zaack is right Grogaan. You are their flight leader and they look to you for guidance. You may only be four, but you still qualify as a squadron because you’re a separate unit.”
Grogaan was about to argue against it, but when he saw his friends glaring at him, he accepted defeat and agreed.
“Under the circumstances, I think we should be enlisted into full service in the MDF,” said Zaack
Grogaan thought that was one step too far, and one he no longer wanted. “I’ve decided I don’t want full enlistment in the MDF either.”
“You’re full of surprises today. What do you mean by that?” asked Zaack shaking his head.
Grogaan stroked his moustache a few times before answering. “After giving it much thought, being enlisted in the MDF would prevent me from being free to fly where and when I please. Perhaps sometime in the future I might want to explore the galaxy, see what’s out there,” he said looking upwards. “Out there, far beyond the Mantoa asteroid belt.”
“Well, if you intend to go exploring, I’m going with you,” said Zaack.
“Me too,” said Eldaan.
“You’re not leaving me out either,” added Doraant.
The Chief was shocked. Grogaan still never ceased to amaze him.
“Fair enough,” said Grogaan, and then paused a moment before turning to face Trindall. “Chief, we would accept a simple attachment to the force. That would allow us to continue working here and fulfil any sorties the MDF request of us. After all, who else has the necessary experience in fighter maintenance?”
“Nobody,” agreed the Chief, smiling and nodding. “To be truthful, the MDF would prefer an attachment rather than full enlistment, at least at this moment in time.”
Grogaan was surprised and looked at the Chief curiously, but refrained from asking why, believing he already knew the answer.
“What’s so important about that transport, Chief?” asked Zaack.
“It’s loaded with components required for building new ships, including engines, lightspeed drive units and shield generators. Without them, there’s no hope of having new ships to fight the Krelathans.”
“So when do we leave?” asked Grogaan.
“Tomorrow morning as early as you can,” replied Trindall.
“No problem.” The four pilots got up and left the crew room. “Oh Chief,” said Grogaan stopping by the doorframe. “We would like an advance of half the pay for the job ready for us by the time we leave.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, I’ll inform them.”
Grogaan turned and walked away feeling pleased with the way things were shaping up for him and his friends. Finally, after three years of pain and heartache, he was finally getting the chance to make a difference. Now he hoped he had overcome his tendency to sink into depressive moods.
“Grogaan!”
He turned to face the Chief.
“You take care out there. Those Krelathans are ruthless and cunning.”
“Sure thing, and don’t you worry Chief. We’ll get back in one piece, you’ll see. We’ll show ‘em how Mabraantan’s can really fight.” He meant no disrespect to those who had died fighting against the raiders, but the additional firepower their ships possessed would counteract the advantage in numbers the enemy always had. He rushed to catch up with his friends. “Hey you lot, are you coming for a drink at the Klaret this evening?” he asked.
“Why not? We’ve got something special to celebrate,” they replied.
“See you there about six then.”
Grogaan arrived at the Klaret Diner just after six to find his three friends were already waiting for him at the bar. They ordered their usual Mabraleen Ales, and went to sit in their favourite corner. The Klaret was not very busy, for which Grogaan was pleased, and their usual table was empty.
Zaack raided his glass. “I propose a toast.”
The others followed his lead.
“To Grogaan and Kopaz Squadron!”
“To Grogaan and Kopaz Squadron!” they all said loudly.
Joss glanced at the group as he heard the declaration and smiled. It was the happiest he had ever seen them, and it was unusual for them to make such a scene in public. Knowing they must be celebrating something special, he poured another four drinks and took them over. He placed them on the table. “They’re on the house,” he said.
“Thank you, Joss, that’s most kind,” said Grogaan.
The barman shrugged it off. Well, they had been regular customers, always polite and friendly, and never caused any trouble. “So what’s the big occasion?”
“We are now formally recognised as a fighter squadron,” boasted Doraant.
Joss was delighted. “That’s great news. I reckon those Krelathans had better watch what they do around this system now.”
“You bet. They won’t know what hit ‘em,” said Eldaan.
“Well, good luck to you all, and go give ‘em hell,” said Joss.
“Rest assured Joss, we’ll hit ‘em hard and fast making sure they know we mean business,” said Doraant.
The four pilots continued to celebrate for some time, eventually deciding they had better get something to eat. After a very enjoyable evening, they found themselves slightly intoxicated from the excesses of ale consumed. The barman laughed as he watched them walking unsteadily toward the door. It was a sight he had not witnessed for many years. He had seen the effect losing his father, brother, and fiancée had had on Grogaan, and always hoped something good would happen for him.
It was a sad day when Joss heard the news of Ruebern’s death, he having been a regular at the Klaret. So he held a one-minute silence with one ring of the bell at the start and finish in tribute to him. This became part of the Klaret’s tradition, and was performed on the death of someone known to a client or employee of the diner. The barman hoped he would not be ringing the bell for one of the four he watched leaving.
On the far side of the lounge out of direct sight of Grogaan and his friends sat two young women, both feeling subdued and quiet, and saying little to each other. One was a fighter pilot in the MDF, and the other, who was her cousin, also worked for the force, but in administration. Both were pretty, average height and build, one with short shoulder length fair hair, the other long black hair. The woman with the shorter hair looked toward Grogaan on several occasions, hoping he would look in her direction, and sighed gently when he did not.
Her heart ached with grief and pain, and yet there was a longing in her heart that she would not act upon for fear of rejection, the reason for which she kept to herself. Only Julienna knew that reason, which was why she often brought her out for the evening, otherwise she would have spent almost all of her time at the MDF barracks pining away for her lost companion. On her right breast was her squadron badge and name: Joeen Parond, one-four-nine Squadron.
Kareana was sitting in the kitchen enjoying a hot milky drink, hoping it would settle her nerves for the night. She knew her son was a competent pilot and engineer, but she had been unable to stop worrying about the flight tests he and his friends had planned to undertake earlier in the day. Now it was evening, and he still had not returned home, she found her concer
ns were rising despite her attempts to reassure herself all was well.
She was distracted from her thoughts by someone fumbling with the door latch. She was about to go and open it when in strolled her son looking a little worse for wear. She was amazed at his condition, but was pleased because it meant he had been celebrating and the trials had gone well.
“I think you need some black Lokarsh. That’ll sober you up in no time.” Kareana filled the percolator and put some ground beans in the filter.
Grogaan’s mind was beginning to spin, compounded by his extreme tiredness. He liked Lokarsh, especially black, ice cold with lemon, but also found it very palatable when hot. The drink was made from a black bean found throughout the quadrant, and provided a very inexpensive drink. It was also good to drink after consuming too much ale. There was a certain chemical within the bean, whose properties were altered during the roasting process, and when absorbed into the body, it counteracted the effects of the alcohol.
With his first cup finished, his mother offered him a second, which he accepted without hesitation. As he sobered up, the two chatted for a while, Grogaan telling her of the days’ events, and his mother listening intently, but with grave concern. Soon, his eyes were becoming heavy, so he decided it was long passed bedtime. Grogaan lay down on his bed pondering Kopaz Squadron’s performance in the combat simulations, and was pleased.
He was confident they would be able to survive a Krelathan attack, but time would soon prove if that confidence was justified. Keeping his eyes open to think was becoming increasingly difficult, and he soon drifted off into a deep, untroubled sleep.
Kareana sat alone in the kitchen pondering what her son had told her. She was not entirely happy about him flying to another system on escort duty, but would not do anything to prevent him going. She knew he had always dreamt of following in his father’s footsteps, and now he was doing just that, although achieving it in a slightly different way. However painful it was for her, she knew she had to let go.
The thought of losing him cut her to the core, having already lost her husband Ruebern, and her son Ben. Kareana found it hard enough coping now, and her only remaining son was a lifeline and focus for her, taking her thoughts from her loss and keeping the sadness and grief at bay. If she lost him, she did not know how she would survive, but knew she must not think about it. She had to remain strong and positive.
Her son was so much like his father, strong, compassionate, very clever and adaptable, but there was something she knew about Ruebern few others did, not even her son. Ruebern was sensitive to the powers of the astral realm, which gave him unique abilities especially in flying. Unfortunately, it had not been enough to save him against the Krelathans. She only hoped her son was different, and by what she had heard, his starfighter would give him the advantage he needed.
As she sat thinking about the past, the good times, the bad and the sad times, she felt a strange sensation flowing through her body making her shiver. For reasons beyond her comprehension, Kareana was convinced all would be well, and there was no need to be concerned about her son.
He was special, very special.