“Greetings, Pilots, and welcome to your final exercise before being assigned your Fleet Schools. You’ve all been through several V-Day simulations before, so you’ll be familiar with the general idea. However, this one will be different-instead of the advanced, in-system SDF Battlestations, complete with then-modern drones, you’re going to be controlling the group that began the engagement. The Cutters that made first contact were outmoded, and equipped with single-seat, low-g, crossover fighters. As I’m sure you all know, these Cutters were quickly destroyed, along with the outlying planetary defenses. Your mission is simple-extract as large of a toll from the Xon invasion force as possible before your inevitable destruction. SolCom out.”
The radio clicked shut, and all was silent in the Simulation Room. Every pilot in the room understood that this test was irrelevant-their Strike Groups had already been set, and only a major failure, or a monumental success could affect most of them now. But it was also one of the most important tests of their training, at least, for those with aspirations as a pilot-while officialdom was done with the pilots, Carrier Wing Leaders were known to analyze every second of the footage for days afterwards, hunting for pilots who could bring the tiniest edge to their Strike Groups.
Hans tensed, Elise kicked off her boots. They sat back-to-back, in Cockpits 17 and 18, ready for the familiar launch tube graphics.
Elise reached back, for Hans’s hand. “Chill.” She said, voice calm. “Calm, composed... Keep your mind calm as space and you’ll pull through.”
Hans smiled, taking his sister’s hand. “Empty as space too.”
They both laughed. “Let’s not die today.” She said, a moment before their simulator’s screens activated. Instead of Launch Tubes, they were greeted with a large, boxy, open hangar, filled with manned Fighters that they both recognized as Quasar-type Crossovers. They had a distinctive wing design, meant to shelter their maneuvering rockets during atmospheric reentry, which made them exceptionally bad both in a planetary atmosphere and in space. In short, they were not the most effective weapons for defending the human species against the single greatest threat it had ever faced.
They brought their fighters out of the hangar side-by-side, before beginning the meager acceleration that would take them into battle.
The massive Xon carriers that dominated the sky were surrounded by thousands of their own fighters, a whirl of greens, tans, and golds. The Xon fighters would easily outperform the Quasars-of course, almost anything could.
They were at the front of the formation when their fighters made first contact with the Xon.
Their lasers and pulse cannon did major damage to the larger clusters of Xon, but the same was true in reverse-many simulated SDF fighters were destroyed in initial contact.
In Elise’s mind, that was when the fun began. Both Human and Xon fighters were forced to decelerate, or they would risk overshooting the opposing warship, their real target. The Xon ships had kept a considerable defensive screen of fighters, but the Terran Cutters had no such luxury-they had, instead, began acceleration as far away from the battle as possible, trying to clear the UTF’s own Foldspace Denial Net before they were destroyed.
Hans began his deceleration sequence, preparing to engage the Xon Carriers.
Elise, however, had other ideas. Her fighter swung around, not even decelerating, sweeping wide across the field of combat, before stabilizing its trajectory behind the mass of Xon fighters. Her lasers, as well as the few missiles her ship had equipped for dogfighting, cut wide swathes through the Xon fighters taking out dozens.
It was a breach with military doctrine, it was a breach with all common sense and reason, and it was working.
Hans swore. Elise threw back her head, laughing. Again it was happening, again she proved a little bit better at something, did something a little bit unexpected. They both knew what would happen to her next, one with a twinge of envy, the other one of guilt. Adulation. Praise. Transfers to better assignments, quicker promotion, et cetera, et cetera.
Hans was almost glad when, several minutes after every other pilot in their simulation room had been shot down and gathered around her, Elise was shot down.
She was almost regretful when every pilot in the Simulator began to cheer for her.
Neither was surprised when their duo, their tag-team, was broken up to to separate Fleet School programs.
Their farewell was tearful. But only one wanted to say goodbye.
Hans tensed, Elise kicked off her boots. They sat back-to-back, in Cockpits 17 and 18, ready for the familiar launch tube graphics.
Elise reached back, for Hans’s hand. “Chill.” She said, voice calm. “Calm, composed... Keep your mind calm as space and you’ll pull through.”
Hans smiled, taking his sister’s hand. “Empty as space too.”
They both laughed. “Let’s not die today.” She said, a moment before their simulator’s screens activated. Instead of Launch Tubes, they were greeted with a large, boxy, open hangar, filled with manned Fighters that they both recognized as Quasar-type Crossovers. They had a distinctive wing design, meant to shelter their maneuvering rockets during atmospheric reentry, which made them exceptionally bad both in a planetary atmosphere and in space. In short, they were not the most effective weapons for defending the human species against the single greatest threat it had ever faced.
They brought their fighters out of the hangar side-by-side, before beginning the meager acceleration that would take them into battle.
The massive Xon carriers that dominated the sky were surrounded by thousands of their own fighters, a whirl of greens, tans, and golds. The Xon fighters would easily outperform the Quasars-of course, almost anything could.
They were at the front of the formation when their fighters made first contact with the Xon.
Their lasers and pulse cannon did major damage to the larger clusters of Xon, but the same was true in reverse-many simulated SDF fighters were destroyed in initial contact.
In Elise’s mind, that was when the fun began. Both Human and Xon fighters were forced to decelerate, or they would risk overshooting the opposing warship, their real target. The Xon ships had kept a considerable defensive screen of fighters, but the Terran Cutters had no such luxury-they had, instead, began acceleration as far away from the battle as possible, trying to clear the UTF’s own Foldspace Denial Net before they were destroyed.
Hans began his deceleration sequence, preparing to engage the Xon Carriers.
Elise, however, had other ideas. Her fighter swung around, not even decelerating, sweeping wide across the field of combat, before stabilizing its trajectory behind the mass of Xon fighters. Her lasers, as well as the few missiles her ship had equipped for dogfighting, cut wide swathes through the Xon fighters taking out dozens.
It was a breach with military doctrine, it was a breach with all common sense and reason, and it was working.
Hans swore. Elise threw back her head, laughing. Again it was happening, again she proved a little bit better at something, did something a little bit unexpected. They both knew what would happen to her next, one with a twinge of envy, the other one of guilt. Adulation. Praise. Transfers to better assignments, quicker promotion, et cetera, et cetera.
Hans was almost glad when, several minutes after every other pilot in their simulation room had been shot down and gathered around her, Elise was shot down.
She was almost regretful when every pilot in the Simulator began to cheer for her.
Neither was surprised when their duo, their tag-team, was broken up to to separate Fleet School programs.
Their farewell was tearful. But only one wanted to say goodbye.