Ep.#1 - Aurora: EV-01 Read online

  “Like I said, standard load. Wartime load would be twenty-four. “Six leaves your Dragon service bay empty, which gives your ship a lot more flexibility.”

  “How so?” Nathan wondered.

  “Well, for starters, you can receive small shuttles through the Dragon recovery deck, or from the elevator pad in the flight deck topside, and store them in this space. You can also use it for cargo, to carry evacuees, to take on additional tankage, or to plug in additional energy banks to double your jump range. Like I said; flexibility.”

  “Clever.”

  “Well, when you’re reducing your overall ship size by sixty percent, you have to be. This entire section was designed specifically for the new Dragon fighters.”

  “I can’t wait to see them,” Nathan admitted as he followed her through the empty bay toward the aft exit.

  “You won’t have to wait long,” Cameron assured him, stepping to one side after she passed between the two partially opened bay doors. “I present to you the icing on the cake. The Dragon multi-role jump fighter.”

  Nathan’s eyes widened. It was larger than a Super Eagle, but smaller than a Falcon. It was a blended lifting-body design similar to the Falcon and the Corinari fighters, but more compact, and more deadly looking. Plus, it was jet black from nose to tail, giving it a sinister look.

  Nathan looked at Cameron and smiled. “That is one mean-looking little fighter.”

  “You want to take her up?” Cameron asked.

  “Don’t toy with me.”

  “That’s why she’s here,” Cameron told him. “Just don’t go manual until the AI gets you clear. We are still inside a building after all.”

  * * *

  “I have to admit, this is all pretty cool,” Nathan commented as they strolled toward the Dragon fighter waiting for him on the aft flight deck.

  “The Dragon flight suits are based on the Ghatazhak self-donning combat armor,” Cameron explained. “Cuts down on the time it takes to scramble a flight.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Normally, these would be launched from tubes, but this is the only way to launch a bird while we’re in a hangar. There’s actually an alert bay forward where all the Dragon cockpits would be stored. Pilots get into their cockpits there, then the cockpits are fed to waiting fighter bodies via a fast-conveyance system. One minute after a pilot plops their butt into a cockpit module, they’re plugged into an airframe and shot out of the launch tube. Twelve birds in the air in six minutes from alert. A quarter of that, if they’re pre-loaded.”

  Nathan proceeded to walk around the fighter, visually inspecting the craft before boarding her. “I’m surprised you’re letting me take this bird up,” he told her. “After all, I have zero training in this model, and I haven’t touched a flight stick in years.”

  “They’re pretty much impossible to crash,” Cameron assured him.

  “AI?”

  “AI.” Cameron turned to walk away. “Enjoy. Vlad will finish the tour with you when you get back.”

  “Where are you going?” Nathan wondered.

  “I have to meet up with supply. Someone has to get this ship stocked up and ready.”

  Nathan looked back up at the Dragon fighter, running his hand along her fuselage as he headed toward the boarding ladder steps jutting out from her port side. He reached for the top rung, then climbed up and into the cockpit.

  The first thing Nathan noticed was that the cockpit was much wider than that of the Eagle fighters he had trained in more than a decade ago. There was also a dizzying array of controls and displays all around him. Nathan grabbed the release lever on the underside of his seat and pushed back to get a little more leg room. Much to his surprise, the seat slid back more than a meter before hitting its stops. “Damn,” he said to himself. “You could practically take a nap in this thing.”

  “That was the intention,” a female voice said over his helmet speakers.

  “Are you the AI?” Nathan asked, looking around as if some magical AI fairy was going to suddenly appear.

  “Yes, Captain Scott. You may refer to me as Dottie.”

  “Dottie? Does that stand for something?” Nathan asked as he moved his seat back forward.

  “It does not. It is simply the name that Dylan assigned to me during installation,” the AI explained. “You may call me something else, if you prefer.”

  “Dottie will be fine.”

  “Since you are wearing a Dragon suit, I assume you intend to fly this ship. Shall I begin the launch sequence?”

  “Yes, please,” Nathan confirmed. “Take us out as soon as you are ready. I’ll take the controls once we’re clear of the facility.”

  “As you wish, Captain.”

  The console began to light up, and the low whine of the small fighter’s reactor core became audible from both inside and out. A second later, the canopy slid forward over Nathan’s head, closing him inside.

  The canopy was opaque, but only for a moment. The second it locked closed, the inside of the canopy cleared, becoming transparent, but with digital range and identification information displaying on its inner surface.

  Nathan instantly recognized this technology from the Nighthawk fighters that SilTek had once built for the Sugali. About twenty of them were still in operation on Casbon, providing their primary means of defense against raiders, though such attacks had all but ceased now that both Casbon and the Akha were members of the Alliance.

  He glanced across his displays and located the comms panel, but before he could call for departure clearance, the details of his clearance were already reading out on the view screen.

  “Reactor at full power,” his AI reported. “Initiating departure sequence.”

  The Dragon fighter rose off the deck just enough to safely retract its landing gear and began sliding slowly backwards toward the open end of the recovery deck. Nathan glanced about as the bay drifted past him. A moment later, his fighter was out of the bay, hovering on grav-lift power and slowly climbing. Once it was higher than the highest point on the Aurora, it began to move forward, passing over the top of its host ship.

  Nathan peered out the left side of his canopy at the Aurora below. The original Aurora was a large, sleek ship, but this new one looked more like a sports car. He couldn’t imagine a ship of that size being able to land. Even at one third the original Aurora’s size, she was still around five hundred meters in length. It was also strange to see such a ship being built on the surface. Even the Earth’s first FTL scout ships had been built in orbit.

  Of all the technologies that had come along during his time in space, grav-lift systems had been one of the most unusual. No longer did liftoff and touch down require screaming engines producing tons of thrust. Now, there was just a loud hum, and the ships floated up off the ground and climbed into the sky with ease.

  The AI brought the Dragon fighter smoothly over the top of the Aurora, skimming just above her dorsal hull, well below the various cranes hanging from the ceiling of the massive final assembly hangar. As they passed clear of her bow, Nathan realized there were tracks under the first Expedition-class ship that presumably led to the departure area, and then back to the first assembly hangar. It was similar to the way the old Cobra gunships had been constructed, except these new ships would not be rolling down a hill and jumping to orbit.

  “I will take us outside of the facility’s airspace and to safe maneuvering altitude, at which point you may take the controls, Captain Scott,” Dottie announced as the Dragon began to ascend.

  “Sounds good.”

  “What level of flight assistance will you require?”

  “I was thinking full manual,” Nathan replied.

  “That would not be advisable,” Dottie warned. “The Dragon airframe is extremely maneuverable and very fast. Even experienced pilots have a tendency to over-control it, which can lead to disas
trous results.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Nathan assured his AI as he placed his right hand on the flight control stick and his left hand on the throttle. “I have control.”

  “As you wish.”

  Nathan leaned the flight control stick slightly right, then left, rocking his wings a bit as he got a feel for the ship. His AI wasn’t exaggerating. The little black fighter felt very responsive. Next, he tried the pitch, easing the nose up, down, and then back level with similar results. “Hey Dottie, are there any speed limitations in this flight area?”

  “The expedition assembly facility lies within an MOA that extends three hundred kilometers in all directions. At your current speed and heading, you will exit the MOA in three minutes.”

  A grin formed on Nathan’s face. “What’s the MOA’s ceiling?”

  “The MOA has no ceiling,” the AI replied. “It extends all the way to space.”

  “Are the inertial dampeners functional?”

  “The inertial dampening systems are fully operational; however, I should warn you that they are adaptive. You will still feel both positive and negative Gs, though not as intensely. But do not worry, Captain Scott. If you should lose consciousness, I am programmed to assume flight control and return you to safety.”

  “Good to know.” Nathan simultaneously yanked his flight control stick back hard and jammed his main throttle all the way forward. His head was immediately pushed back against his headrest, and his body sank back into the flight seat. He could also feel his flight suit automatically stiffening to compensate. He felt as if he had just become one with the Dragon fighter. “Hot damn!”

  “Maximum acceleration is not advised,” Dottie warned. “I am detecting significant changes in your pulse rate and respiratory patterns.”

  “I’m good!” Nathan assured her.

  “While this ship’s propulsion system is powerful enough to execute a vertical climb to space, you will not achieve orbit unless…”

  “I’m not trying to achieve orbit,” Nathan interrupted as he spun the jump select dial on the flight control stick to five light minutes, then toggled the jump button.

  Much to his surprise, there was no blue-white flash. The only indication that his fighter had jumped was that the sky had instantly changed from its darkening blue to the star-filled, inky blackness of space. One second, he had been climbing out of the Earth’s atmosphere at an incredible rate. The next, he was beyond the orbit of Mars.

  “It might have been wise to notify me of your intentions before executing a five-light-minute jump. Space is not empty, after all.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t let me hit anything,” Nathan replied. “That is the purpose of an AI on a fighter, right?”

  “To prevent headstrong pilots from injuring themselves and destroying a five hundred million credit, cutting-edge spacecraft? Yes, that is my sole reason for existence.”

  “I sense a little Dylan in your personality matrix.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “What’s your jump range, Dottie?” Nathan asked.

  “My maximum single-jump range is one hundred light years. However, stealth jumps are limited to one light year. Of course, I can perform an unlimited number of jumps in series, so my actual travel range is only limited by the biological needs of my pilot.”

  “So a journey of a thousand light years is no big deal?”

  “I was not informed that this flight would include interstellar travel, Captain. It was my understanding that this was more of a familiarization flight.”

  “Well, I’m simply familiarizing myself with the Dragon’s capabilities,” Nathan said as he punched a destination into the jump-nav computer.

  “My capabilities are clearly documented, as are all of the procedures for my operation.”

  “I’ve never been one for procedures,” Nathan mused.

  * * *

  Cameron had nearly made it back to her shuttle by the time the junior officer caught up to her.

  “Sir!” the young officer called out as he ran toward her.

  “What is it, lieutenant?”

  “Captain Scott! He just jumped away in the Dragon fighter!”

  “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. He’ll be back.”

  The lieutenant looked puzzled. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because Nathan Scott always comes back,” she replied with a smile. “Even from the dead.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Eight Gunyoki fighters, each painted in varied, brilliant color schemes and sporting unique numbers, zipped past the Jamalan asteroid, turning hard to loop around the massive rock, barely skimming its surface.

  “If you’re going to make a move, you’d better do it soon,” Ito warned over comms.

  Josh had been flying since he was a kid. First in video games, where he smoked everyone who challenged him. Then in the lumbering harvesters, collecting rocks in the rings of Haven. Back then, he had dreamed of flying real fighters, real ships and not harvesters, but never saw that ever becoming a reality.

  Yet here he was, piloting one of the mighty, tank-like Gunyoki fighters in the final rounds of the annual Gunyoki championship. The path to this opportunity had been long and bizarre. A series of circumstances, events, and plain, dumb luck had put him in the pilot’s seat of so many different ships over the last fifteen years that he had lost count. His mantra had become, ‘If it can fly, I can fly it, and I can fly it better than anyone else.’

  Unfortunately, today, that last part was proving to be untrue.

  Gunyoki fighters were unlike any ship he had ever flown. Their engine nacelles, which Josh had nicknamed ‘gungines’ due to the powerful plasma cannons on their front ends, were oddly articulated. They rotated on an axis perpendicular to the ship’s longitudinal axis while angling nose-out. It made for very unusual maneuvering characteristics by common standards. And while the design seemed wholly inefficient, it made for a unique flying experience.

  The Gunyoki had a long history in Rakuen culture, dating back to the original Water Wars between Rakuen and Neramese. The original Gunyoki were built and flown by prominent Rakuen leaders, who were willing to spend their fortunes and risk their lives to defend their world. The design had been simple, making for easy builds and maintenance. Once the war was over, the Gunyoki pilots had begun racing against one another for sport and to keep up their skills in case they were ever called to serve again. This tradition eventually became Rakuen’s number one spectator sport, attracting tens of thousands of Rakuens, and now hundreds of thousands from all over the Systems Alliance.

  The Gunyoki had been key players in the formation of the Alliance, having been instrumental in the defeat of the Dusahn and the liberation of nearly a dozen worlds in the Pentaurus sector. Now, the word ‘Gunyoki’ was known by racing fans everywhere, not just in the Rogen system. So naturally, Josh felt the need to prove himself here, at the controls of one of the most celebrated spacecraft in recent history.

  The Gunyoki races were meant to simulate real battle. The course was basically a running chase through the Rogen system, dodging asteroids and automated weapons systems that littered the path. They flew in groups of eight but did not fight one another until the final rounds, when it was down to one-on-one dogfighting.

  At this stage of the game, Josh’s only concern was finishing this heat in the top four of his group. As long as he did that, he would advance to the next round. His Gunyoki master, Ito, had drilled this into Josh’s brain for the last year, most likely because Ito knew how competitive Josh could be. Ito believed that a Gunyoki was like a sword. The sword’s edges had to be respected so that they could be used effectively.

  The fact that Josh had been able to restrain himself throughout the race had surprised Ito, but now it was time to act. The heat had only minutes left, and Josh had been in last place the entire time. If he did not move
up at least four places, his season would be over.

  “Josh?” Ito called again.

  Josh was blocked in by the competitors ahead of him. If he tried to go around them in the next turn, he would fall even further behind, and they would not allow him enough room to squeeze by on the inside of the turn around the next asteroid. He only had one play, and he wasn’t sure it was legal.

  A grin spread across Josh’s face. “Watch this,” he told Ito as he rolled his Gunyoki fighter onto its starboard side, then fired his plasma cannons between the two racers ahead of him. The shots missed them but were close enough that it caused them both to jerk slightly away from the plasma bolts streaking between them.

  “Suckers,” Josh giggled as he jammed his throttles to full power and drove forward, passing between the two jinking racers.

  “You cannot shoot at your opponents, Josh, not in this stage.”

  “I didn’t shoot at them, I shot between them.”

  “The judges may not believe that,” Ito warned. “They may think you just missed.”

  “No fucking way,” Josh replied. “If I had wanted to shoot them, they’d be debris fields by now.”

  “Even if they rule in your favor, that only got you to sixth place, and the others won’t fall for that trick.”

  “That’s why I’m using a different tactic to pass the others,” Josh announced.

  “You’re approaching the next turn,” Ito warned. “You must slow down, or you’ll swing wide.”

  “I can make the damn turn!” Josh insisted as he maneuvered his ship to the right of the next two ships leading him.

  “You cannot produce enough delta-v to make a turn that tight at such speeds.”

  “And neither can they,” Josh replied as he guided his accelerating Gunyoki fighter closer to the asteroid. He rolled his ship to the right, putting his topside toward the asteroid as he pulled up even with the fourth and fifth place racers. Both of them were so busy trying to jockey position over one another, while not getting too close to the asteroid they were now looping around, that they failed to notice Josh skirting between them and the massive rock.