Chapter Six
Mabraant, Mabra System, Fazaal Sector, Gaashox Quadrant
The Mabra Defence Academy had established a small space station on Mabra Three, a small moon orbiting Mabraant at a distance of about two hundred thousand kilometres. It was the Space Combat Training Facility, and was permanently manned by a two teams of twenty personnel, whose tour of duty was rotated monthly.
The Academy used remote drones containing sensors and computer systems that were programmed to take evasive action when being pursued and targeted by a ship. They were highly manoeuvrable, which made them extremely difficult to destroy. There were three models of drone: The standard version, costing one thousand credits apiece, was used by trainees at the academy or any other pilots who wanted to test their flying skills in a simulated combat situation.
The advanced version, costing two thousand credits apiece, was reserved for the third and final year Academy students who reached the required level of competence and skill. The final version, the elite drone, costing four thousand credits apiece, was for the explicit use of pilots from the MDF to hone their skills.
The young pilots of Mabraant Engineering, who now called themselves ‘Kopaz Squadron’, would be testing their combat skills at this training facility, and due to the cost involved, would be flying against the standard model drones. Doraant, Eldaan and Zaack were already anxious about taking their ships into space for the first time, but the thought of indulging in simulated combat against the drones only served to increase that anxiety.
“Do you honestly think we’re ready for this?” asked Eldaan as they walked across the workshop to their ships.
Grogaan stopped and looked at his friend. “Would I have arranged this training session if I didn’t think you were?”
“I guess not,” said Eldaan, who remained unsure about his capabilities.
“We’ll be fine,” said Zaack. “The ships have been thoroughly tested, and all systems are working perfectly. The only way to know if we’re ready is to get up there and go for it.”
“Zaack’s right,” said Doraant. “It’s now or never.”
Grogaan smiled. He was pleased with the performance of all three of his friends, who had improved considerably once they took their MCI’s into the air.
“What if there’s a problem with the sealing system?”
Zaack sighed heavily, but it was Grogaan who responded. “There’s no need to concern yourself about that. The system works perfectly, even in space.”
The other three stared at him, their eyes wide in shock.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Eldaan.
“It means I’ve taken each of the ships into space and tested them, but only enough to ensure they’re safe.”
Zaack was about to say something, but Grogaan smiled and shook his head. “Come on, it’s time to go and destroy some targets and find out how well these ships handle.”
Once clear of the hangar bays, they engaged sublight engines and headed for space. Grogaan felt the vibration running through the ship, and along with the whine of the engines, began to feel as if he was part of the ship and the ship was part of him. After they passed through the upper atmosphere, they increased the throttle and the fighters shot forward to a speed of ten thousand Kmph.
When they entered the vast emptiness of space, the three younger pilots managed to relax a little, and their anxiety quickly diminished once they began putting the ships through extensive manoeuvres, checking all systems and performance characteristics thoroughly. When Grogaan was satisfied everything was operating perfectly, the small squadron accelerated to maximum speed and held it for a few moments to stabilise. The speed gauge was reading 25,862 Kmph, making it the fastest starfighter both under atmospheric conditions and in space.
The young pilots were overjoyed with the performance of their ships, and were now eagerly looking forward to the combat trials. Grogaan knew no other ship would be able to catch them in straight flight, and he believed their survival would now only depend on their dog-fighting and general combat skills. The first stage in ascertaining those skills was about to be completed.
As the four starfighters approached the Mabra Space Station, Grogaan contacted the controller for landing clearance, and they landed in the designated bays one by one. After powering down, the four pilots headed for the flight liaison office. After logging in, they were given datareaders containing a microdisk with the regulations and requirements of the Training Facility for them to read. When they had read and accepted the conditions, the officer entered an acceptance code into the files and received authorisation codes for launching the drones. With that done, it was time to put man and machine to the test.
“Alright Doraant, you can have the pleasure of going first,” said Grogaan. He hoped by letting the other three go first, it would enable them to relax and perform to a higher standard.
“Yeah, sure,” he said.
“Have fun,” said Grogaan as his friend climbed into his ship. Grogaan understood how much the difference in their performances affected them, especially Eldaan and Doraant. It was a similar situation to that of his early days in school, but the other way round. He was the one who usually performed poorly regardless of how hard he tried, and it made him feel inadequate. It taught him so much about trust and friendship, because few of those so-called friends stood by him when his life fell apart. A trust developed between those who did remain loyal friends that had so far stood the test of time. Now only five of those friends were still alive; the others having been killed by the Krelathans.
Grogaan hoped the days following this one would not damage that friendship.
The four pilots were only allowed two target drones each, not being Academy students, but the number of sorties required to destroy those drones was limited only by the time allotted for the session. If they failed to destroy them they would be allowed to return another day. Grogaan had purchased a third drone for each of them, and decided to wait until they had succeeded in destroying the first two before telling his friends. He was confident they would do so without having to return a second time. His friends, however, were not.
The first target shot from the control launch tube and accelerated to maximum speed. Doraant blasted off and engaged in pursuit. The target moved slowly to the right, he banked tightly and brought the target into his sights. He waited for a couple of seconds for the computer to lock on, and by the time the lock tone sounded, it was too late. The target veered off to the left and the pilot had to follow. Doraant continued his banking and rolled, pulled back on the control column, looped over and located the target to his right. Banking again to the right he chased the target, first one way then the other. Time was ticking by, and the young pilot was still no closer to destroying his target.
The target performed a one hundred and eighty degree loop, and Doraant followed. He saw it veering off to the left. A few more manoeuvres and he was back on its tail. This time, however, he fired as soon as it passed through his sights, all eight lasers firing simultaneously. The target exploded into space dust directly in front of him. “Yahoo!” he cried just as the time up signal sounded over his comm channel. He sighed heavily. After landing in the docking bay he climbed out feeling extremely pleased with his performance.
“Thought you couldn’t do it, didn’t you?” said Grogaan. “Well done.”
“Thanks, but I only just did it. I bet you’ll beat the time no problem.”
“We’ll see,” said Grogaan.
Eldaan went next, followed by Zaack, both of whom managed to destroy their targets in roughly the same time Doraant had achieved, and were pleased with their performance.
“Okay Grogaan, now you show us how it’s supposed to be done,” said Doraant.
“I can only do my best,” he said as he climbed into his ship. He switched on all systems with the thrusters on minimal lift. The sublight engines were humming quietly, as if waiting impatiently to be fired up, the sound and vibration calming him from within. He sat and waited pati
ently for the controller to deploy the target drone, breathing deeply and trying to focus on the target in the launch chute. He expected to see nothing, and was surprised to see a faint image of it in his mind. Just as the image appeared, the target was deployed. He saw the drone fly from the chute, with both his physical and spiritual sight.
Grogaan instinctively raised the ship on the lift thrusters enough to clear the deck and slammed the throttle open. His interceptor sped from the hangar and accelerated away from the station at a rate that surprised his friends. He could feel the exhilaration as he pursued the target and relished the sensations. It gave him an intense feeling of exhilaration that he had never experienced before. When he continued focussing his thoughts as he did when flying through the canyons, Grogaan began seeing which way the target was moving in his mind. It was mesmerising. He was initially unable to comprehend how this was possible, until thoughts of magic came to mind. If it was something to do with magic, he wondered if it was confirmation that he was gifted in the art.
The target veered sharply to the left then upward. Grogaan tried to push all thoughts of magic from his mind and concentrated on following his target. Instead of pulling back fully on the control column in pursuit, he rolled one hundred and eighty degrees and then pulled back hard. Banking to the left he found the target coming from his right. He continued to ease the interceptor around and used some rear side thruster forcing the ship to yaw anticlockwise.
As expected, the target looped up and to the right. He pulled up then banked hard right and dived. Rolling again to the right, he pulled up, rolled left, and levelled out just as the target appeared from underneath him straight into his sights. Gently squeezing the trigger, he shot four laser bolts from the wing tip cannons and watched delightedly as the target exploded.
Grogaan landed his starfighter on the station to shouts and praise for his performance. However, he did not allow them to get too carried away, and he pressed Doraant back into his ship. It was time for them to carry out their second sortie. The first had been more of a familiarisation of the combat techniques required, so they were more prepared for what to expect on their second. With a few tips given by Grogaan, the other three managed to improve on their kill times considerably.
Grogaan climbed out of his ship and approached his friends, who thought they would be going for their flight debriefing. “Alright lads, it’s time for the third sortie. Doraant, are you ready?”
“What do you mean a third sortie? We’ve only been allotted two target probes,” said Zaack.
“I’ve arranged for us to have a third sortie, so go and enjoy yourselves.”
The three did not know what to say, and just stared at Grogaan with wide eyes. Without further prompting, Doraant prepared for his next flight, followed by Eldaan, Zaack, and finally Grogaan, all of whom achieved noticeable improvements on their previous times. Four elated pilots locked down their ships before heading for the control centre to attend a flight debriefing.
Captain Alfrenton, the facility’s commander, was a medium built man with a friendly disposition, and was very experienced at analysing and assessing pilots’ performances. He was a skilled pilot, so when he retired from active flight duty, he elected to work at the station. Alfrenton enjoyed his work advising students of their performances and helping them to overcome any difficulties they experienced.
He had already printed the results of Kopaz Squadron’s combat simulations, and was mulling over them as the four young pilots entered his office. “Ah! Gentlemen, come in. Please, take a seat,” he said cheerfully.
Moments later a young woman appeared carrying a tray of drinks. She was a short slim woman with a pleasant smile. She placed a glass on the Captain’s desk, and then laid the tray on the table in front of the four pilots.
Eldaan was captivated by her beauty, and smiled at her. “Thank you,” he stammered. The young woman returned the gesture.
The other three pilots thanked her for the drinks, but Doraant and Zaack were unable to take their eyes from her, their broad smiles speaking louder than words. The young woman’s cheeks flushed a light rosy pink, and she promptly turned and left the office. As she walked through the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder revealing a bright warm smile, before closing the door behind her.
“I’m in love,” said Eldaan. “She was so gorgeous.”
Doraant agreed with him. Zaack and Grogaan just laughed.
The Captain finished scrutinising their combat performance, looked up from his desk, and saw three of the young men were looking anxious. The fourth appeared calm and unworried. Alfrenton had watched him speaking with his friends before and after their sorties, noticed how calm and controlled he had been, and his air of confidence as he climbed in and out of his ship. He saw something special in the way he flew. It was as if man and machine were as one, the speed of his responses and his ability to second guess what the probe was about to do.
He had seen his type before. He was one who possessed a high level of confidence in his abilities, one who could be cold and methodical in combat and do what was required to achieve the kill, but would protect his comrades over and above his own requirements. Then get the man out of uniform, he becomes a warm and friendly person: A complete contrast. He would prove to be a deadly pilot, one of the most skilled fighters the MDF had in their ranks, just like his father, Ruebern, who had been one of those individuals.
Alfrenton knew the young man’s father, and was not surprised at the skills the son showed in his performance. Of course, he knew he could be wrong, had been in the past, but not very often. The difference between Grogaan and those who had been like him, and would make him even more deadly, was his ship. Alfrenton knew that had Ruebern been in such a ship, he would not have become a statistic in the fight against the Krelathans.
Doraant was too eager to wait for the Captain to speak. “So how do we rate amongst the Academy’s best, Sir?”
Alfrenton smiled, wondering if the young man’s eagerness was due to anxiety or confidence. He suspected it was the latter, if his performance was anything to go by. “I must confess I was not expecting results as good as these. I am surprised, very surprised.”
“What do you mean by that, Sir?” asked Zaack.
“You have all achieved times that are within the top thirty the Academy has ever recorded,” said Alfrenton shaking his head, still unable to believe what he had read. “This is an outstanding performance considering this is your first time in a simulated combat simulation.” He looked up at the four young men. “It requires something special in a pilot to get into category one.”
The four were looking delighted, but Alfrenton was surprised by their apparent level of self-control. It was as if they did not believe what he was trying to tell them, which was not surprising, because he still found it difficult to believe.
“There are three distinct time categories for Academy trainees. Category three is basically the minimum acceptable pass, which all of you achieved on your first sortie. Trainees are expected to achieve this standard by the end of their first year, and after having undergone a considerable amount of simulator and space flight training, which none of you actually received.” He saw the level of self-control slowly disintegrating in three of the pilots as they began realising their achievement.
“Not in the Academy, no Sir, but Grogaan was a great instructor, and the canyons are a great place to learn,” said Doraant. He shot a quick glance at Grogaan, worried he might have said something he should not have, but his friend just smiled.
Alfrenton was amazed. “You mean Pilot Officer Learman taught you combat flying?”
“Yes Sir,” the three answered in chorus, their delight evident in their voices.
“Outstanding! Truly outstanding! Well, that explains much. However, category two shows that a pilot has an above average level of skill and ability, the level achieved by about twenty percent of pilots by the time they finish their Academy training. Finally, category one shows an outstanding skill lev
el of piloting and combat, a standard achieved by less than five percent of Academy students.” He then added with some emphasis: “Obviously these are only simulations, and don’t guarantee the pilots will perform as well under the stress of actual combat.”
The Captain rubbed his brow. “Currently, we have forty two names recorded for achieving times in category one, covering many decades of training. Now I can add another four names to that list making forty six recorded times, although you’re times are recorded as unofficial, because you’re not Academy students. Naturally, qualified pilots have their own record books.”
“What about Grogaan’s time, Sir?” asked Zaack apprehensively. He knew Grogaan would not have asked for himself, and hoped he would not mind his asking. “Surely his was good enough to be at the top?” He smiled at his friend, who returned the gesture. Zaack felt relieved at Grogaan’s response.
“As I said, it is unofficial, but Grogaan’s time, even now I still can’t believe it,” he said scratching his head, “is the fastest time ever recorded. His time has beaten the previous Academy record by a full twenty seconds and qualified pilots by ten seconds.”
There was a great cheer from Grogaan’s friends and they congratulated him, shaking his hand and patting him on the shoulders. Their faces were beaming with pride at his amazing performance.
“It can’t have been that good, Sir. The system must have malfunctioned,” said Grogaan. He knew he was above average thanks to his father, but found it difficult to believe the fact that he could be better than experienced pilots.
“Truthfully Learman, I have never seen anyone throw a Manta Class starfighter around like that before. It was a delight to watch. I only wish we had more pilots like you, flying to the limits of their ability,” he said.
“He’s the best,” boasted Zaack. “It’s that natural gift of his you know. He can sense what’s ahead and what’s going to happen before it does.”
Alfrenton looked at Zaack curiously.
“Zaack, it’s not what you think so don’t say anything to anyone else okay?” said Grogaan. Even though he now believed he might possess the gift they were so convinced he did, he just wished his friends would keep their opinions to themselves.
Alfrenton watched the exchange between the two young men, and thought it wise to avoid fuelling the difference. “He’s just a naturally gifted pilot. As a matter of fact, we do get the occasional pilot that demonstrates exceptional skills, which usually fuels the debate about their abilities. Your father was one such pilot, Grogaan. He was liked and respected by everyone, and he was a good friend. You are very much like him.”
“Thank you Sir. That means a lot to me.” To be told such a thing made him believe he had achieved part of his ambition to be like him.
Alfrenton wondered why they had not joined the Academy. With the skills they possessed, they would graduate without difficulty, and would be an asset to the MDF. “If you don’t mind me asking, why have you not applied to join the Academy?”
“We have, but only three of us have been accepted. They turned Grogaan’s down for some reason, so unless they accept his, we’re not joining.”
Alfrenton was amazed that the Academy had rejected Grogaan’s application considering his father’s reputation, and the flying skills he had just witnessed. “Your loyalty to your friend is most honourable, but it seems rather strange, don’t you think?”
“Not really, Sir. Grogaan’s our best friend. Well, he’s actually more like a brother really,” said Zaack.
The others nodded their agreement, and Grogaan looked down, feeling a trifle embarrassed.
“As Doraant said earlier, he taught us everything we know, including engineering. We couldn’t dishonour that friendship by joining without him whether he likes it or not,” he added, his expression precluding any argument.
“Loyalty like that is hard to come by, and I admire you for it. I only wish there were more like you.”
“Thank you, Sir,” they chorused.
Alfrenton turned to face Grogaan. “Have you any idea why they turned you down?”
“None, Sir. Besides, I’ve decided not to re-apply after having been turned down four times already,” he said, his voice tinged with anger. “Well Captain, thank you for your assistance and assessment of our performance. I think it’s time we returned home,” said Grogaan as he stood and reached forward to shake Alfrenton’s hand.
Captain Alfrenton stood up and accepted the handshake, and then did likewise with the other three. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you in action, a spectacular performance. “I will be including your results in my weekly report to the MDA.”
“Thank you, Sir, but I’m sure it will not make any difference,” said Grogaan.
Alfrenton smiled. ‘The Academy will regret not accepting that one!’ he mused as the young men walked out of the office. ‘Pilots with skills and character like Grogaan are rare, and we need every single one.’
The four elated pilots returned to the hangar deck, climbed aboard their ships and headed home. They chatted and praised each other all the way back to Mabraant, but none of Grogaan’s friends thought it wise to question him about his decision regarding the Academy. Neither would they put any pressure on him to reconsider.