Into the Black: Odyssey One (16 page)

Space maneuvering was pushing the envelope to the nth degree and for a pilot like himself it was the height of his craft.

“We even changed the airframes three times, so they just ‘sort of’ look like the original ’Angels.”

“Atmospheric Fighters?” The phrase awakened a sense of horror in her, “You flew these against your own people?”

We’ve been taught that the others often warred amongst themselves…, but to see proof of it.
Milla shuddered at the thought of this magnificent machine she saw before her, used to mow down the very people who had built it,
people like this. We would probably have been better off if they had stayed on their own be-damned planet.

Stephanus caught her reaction in her face and the little shiver that ran through her body, a reaction that he was used to, in all too many ways. His face hardened imperceptibly, the way it always did when someone questioned the morality of his choice to serve in the military, “when we had to. These planes were built for one reason, defence. Millions would have died, if these hadn’t been built. Billions more would be under the oppression of a dictatorship. Don’t get too caught up in your moralizing before you learn the whole story, lady.”

Milla swallowed her revulsion for the moment it would do her no good here and now “tell me more, Stephan.”

“That’s ‘Stephanus’, it’s a call sign not my name. Fighter jocks use call signs as a badge of pride in their abilities,” Stephanus turned his attention back to the fighter in front of him “Anyway the Archangel fighter is the fastest, most maneuverable plane we’ve ever devised. We normally measure aircraft speed by multiples of Mach, the speed of sound through our atmosphere, but the Archangel is a little different. The designers learned early in the project that the Archangel wasn’t limited to the same factors that its predecessors were a good pilot could bring an Archangel Fighter to speeds measured in fractions of light speed… even in Earth’s atmosphere.”

“Light speed!” Milla was shocked, fractions, or even near light speed inside an atmosphere was possible, but she’d never heard of a pilot who could keep control, at those speeds. Perhaps in very high atmosphere, but at lower altitudes the pilot’s first mistake would be his last…, and most likely take a considerable number of people with him, when he hit the ground with the force of a nuclear detonation.

“Yeah, the Cee-Emm field systems that give the ship it’s VTOL, that’s Vertical Take Off and Landing capabilities, also allow the pilot to create a pocket of vacuum around the fighter. Sort of a bubble that the air slides around so you don’t get the friction that would normally destroy the plane,” Steph said, explaining the Counter Mass system and its attendant functions, as best he could.

In actuality, he could do so pretty well indeed. Like all Pilots, Stephanus was required to know almost as much about his plane, as the people who built them. More than one pilot had been saved by knowing just which doo-dad had to be attached to which thing-a-ma-jig.

“The same thing also prevents any shockwaves that might normally be caused by something flying, at those speeds,” Stephanus smirked. “In practice though, we don’t go much above Mach Ten…”

“I realize that, we developed a similar system to transport materials into orbit,” Milla frowned, considering that. “What I do not understand is what type of control system you use to allow control, at those speeds?”

Stephanus looked briefly uncomfortable, but shook it off and climbed up a functional ladder, dropping into the cockpit as he waved her up. “Well, come on up here.”

Milla climbed the small ladder so she could get a view of the cockpit, “Yes?”

“Well, the pilot controls the plane’s movement with the foot pedals you see down there, as well as the throttle and the control stick on either side of the seat,” Stephanus reached down and toyed with the control stick. “You can see that it allows for full movement over six different axes…, or any combination of the six.”

Milla just nodded her head and accepted the pilot’s obvious omission without comment, she knew that the system was undoubtedly efficient, but it couldn’t handle a plane at a tenth light speed, within a planetary atmosphere. Obviously these people had their secrets and it wasn’t as if she were going to trust them with any of the defence secrets of her people.

The rest of the pilot’s ‘tour’ was interesting but, for her, the highlights had already been hit. She listened with mild interest as he described the fighters engines and safety features, noted with mild amusement that he skimmed quickly over the weapons systems without really saying anything and found herself instead, studying the man rather than the machine.

‘Stephanus’ was tall, over six feet, his hair a little rougher than most of the pilots and people milling around. She couldn’t decide what color his hair was because - in places it seemed dark brown and in others it was a reddish hue.

He seemed to have a permanent smile etched on his face, a sort of jovial glint in his eyes that was echoed by the lines that were drawn in his flesh by years of laughter.

Milla tried to remind herself that this was a self-confessed killer, a man who hunted his own kind. It was hard to keep that in mind, when confronted with the cheerful visage he presented.

He simply didn’t fit her image of the blood thirsty barbarians of the Legends of the Others.

“Are you done yet, Steph?”

Milla blinked, startled by Weston’s voice,
how did I miss the sound of his boots on the floor?

“Huh? Oh, sure Chief,” the pilot smirked as he flipped another not quite sloppy salute at the Captain. “Standard VIP stuff, all done.”

The Captain nodded once crisply, “Good, I think we’ll head back up into the forward habitat module and check out the bridge, to see how the system survey is coming.”

“Sure, I’m going to go over some of the maintenance logs with Riley over there, I noticed some slack in the throttle when we were on the SAR,” Stephanus turned and headed over to a small man holding an oversized PDA.

“’SAR’, Capitaine?”

“Search and rescue operation,” Eric replied off handedly. “When we went out to pick you up.”

“Oh,” she nodded slowly.

“This way Milla, back to the lift,” Weston gestured the way they had come and began walking back toward the ships lift. Milla could see Dr. Palin standing nervously beside it.

“What is wrong with the Docteur?”

Weston looked at Palin for a moment, “he doesn’t like the Null Gravity. He probably has a sensitive stomach.”

Milla grinned, she had known his like in the fleet, despite the artificial gravity on their ships, null gravity was a commonplace occurrence and many fleet candidates found out the hard way, that space service wasn’t their optimal career choice.

A moment later they were on the lift and Milla felt the rotational gravity return as the lift matched speed with the Odyssey’s habitat module.

Captain Weston retrieved the magboots from Milla and Palin, stowing them away in the lift’s compartment, “Bridge.”

Chapter 10

Dr. Palin left Weston and Milla in the lift when it stopped at the second habitat, heading for his lab and the data they had retrieved from the pod and derelict vessel. Weston told the computer to continue onto the forward habitat and the Command deck.

“Captain on deck!” The crewman’s announcement stiffened the stance of the officers manning their duty stations.

“As you were,” Eric said instantly. He didn’t want his presence to disturb the work that had to be done. “Commander Roberts, what’s our position?”

The Commander turned to look at Milla, as if appraising her strengths or trying to look into her very soul. After a moment he shrugged and looked back to the Captain, “Completing another Orbit, Sir. The Carnivore Drones have pretty much completed the planetary survey, unless you want something more?”

“No. I think that you can call them back,” Eric said after a moment, looking at the screen with a disturbed expression. “No signals from the surface?”

“No Sir.”

Milla found herself staring at the world that filled the large screen, recognizing it from the last time she’d been in this very position, though on a different vessel. She shivered, thinking about the pictures Captain Weston had shown her, and suddenly felt an urge to be anywhere, but where she was.

She immediately felt a flush of guilt over that, and steeled herself against it. She may not be able to do anything for the people who’d died there, not yet, but she would not disgrace herself or them by running from her own weakness. Not that she actually could run far, she supposed. It really was more of a mental thing, in the end.

Her reactions had gone apparently unnoticed by the others as Eric Weston continued speaking with his First Officer, “When the drones are back, we’ll break Orbit. How long until the Transition Threshold?”

“Fourteen hours, Sir,” Roberts replied without hesitation. It had been the first thing he’d checked, before anything else including the Recon data from the Carnivore Drones.

“All right. Break Orbit as soon as the Flight Deck reports that the Drone has been recovered,” Eric ordered, more for the record than anything else. “Best speed out of the system.”

Transition threshold?
Milla looked from one officer to another, hoping for some clue to the meaning of the words that filtered through the induction set on her jaw. Face to face, she searched, finding nothing more than the occasional look of disgust, a wince of pain glimmering across another face, and the occasional look of tightly reined terror.

“What destination, Sir?” Roberts asked.

Weston started to speak but stopped as he considered the question in some surprise. Technically, he supposed, he was only responsible to drop Milla off in the next port of call. At least under the revised Maritime act that space going vessels and crew adhered to in Sol System. In practice, that generally meant returning the rescue to Earth, though they had been dropped off at Mars Base or the Jovian research platforms once or twice in the past, when an outbound ship picked up a spacer in a damaged craft.

This was a distinctly different situation, Weston had to admit. In Sol System, the longest wait one had, would have be a few weeks, probably. A month or two at the outside. Taking Milla to Earth, however, could result in years or more, before anyone got around to authorizing another expedition.

Especially considering the Carnivore data, they’d just picked up.

He sighed finally, and turned to Milla. “Ithan Chans if you would be so kind as to tell us where we should be transporting you?”

Milla looked at the Captain for a long moment, where could she direct these people that would be of least worry to the council? Her home world was out of the question. It was one of the five and was central to the defence of the colonies.
Perhaps one of the other agricultural colonies. One with a star dock.

She considered her options, and nodded after a moment as she remembered what worlds were out here on the frontier of the Colonies.

Yes, Port Fuielles is near this area, only a few days travel from here. That will do nicely.

“Well Ithan?” Eric prodded gently, smiling a little. “Unless you’d like to accompany us home after we’ve completed our shakedown tour.”

Milla smiled, “No Capitaine, that won’t be necessary. Please show me your charts of this area and I will show you to Port Fuielles, a small outpost orbiting an agricultural world. It will do.”

Weston gestured Milla to Roberts, who led her to a navigation display showing the local star systems. She quickly located her system, a small yellow star about twenty light years away, and pointed it out.

“Right here if you don’t mind.”

Roberts glanced at the system she pointed out and nodded slightly to Weston.

Captain Weston nodded, smiling gently, “No problem, Ithan Chans. Commander, if you would direct the coordinates to the helm?”

“Aye Captain.”

Weston stepped over to Milla, “I would recommend you report to the medical lab, I’ll clear a mild sedative with the doctor.”

Milla looked at Weston in alarm, “Sedative? Why?”
These people mean to
drug
me!

“It is only a recommendation the transition drive can be,” Weston paused, looking for the right word. After a moment he gave up and selected one that was entirely inadequate for the task, “…’trying’ for someone who doesn’t know what to expect. We know first-hand.”

Milla looked at him speculatively, “you’ll be receiving one of these sedatives…, as well?”

Weston listened with some amusement to the way she spat the word ‘sedatives’, “No, I won’t have that luxury.”

“Then I too, refuse the ‘luxury’.”

“Very well, Ithan, but I expect you will regret that decision when we enter transition,” Eric smiled, shaking his head. He couldn’t blame her, really. He’d have done the same thing in her place. It was just funny how often being ‘smart’ got you into trouble.

Ignorance is Bliss.

“Perhaps,” Milla looked smug, having avoided the sinister trap.

Weston looked her over and smiled slightly, knowing full well what she was thinking and he knew that he couldn’t convince her that she was wrong.
Oh well, her loss.

Eric shrugged, letting it go. It wasn’t his problem, anymore “Well then, we seem to have the better part of a day or so before we’re clear for transition, perhaps a visit to the recreation areas?”

Milla seemed to consider his offer, and nodded briefly. Weston guided her off the bridge and back to the ship’s lift.

“Recreation Decks,” Weston said.

*****

The efficient little lift had whirred away, dropping them to the outer levels of the forward habitat cylinder in mere seconds, and the two of them stepped out into a large room set up as a cafeteria, with several exits leading to other parts of the recreation facilities.

“Are you hungry?” Eric asked, glancing sideways at her.

Milla shook her head.

“I’m glad you don’t want to eat before your first transition.”

What is he talking about?
Milla just shrugged her shoulders and looked around.