Dark Space: The Invisible War (19 page)

This felt familiar somehow. Alara reached out with a trembling hand to touch the link at the end of the address, almost afraid of what it might reveal. As soon as she touched it, a string of letters and numbers expanded to fill the display from one side to the other.

UGC:
K-54-77-41 | T-1-5-11 | O-4-5-66 | Z-3-3-45 | A-1-2-87 | R-44-34-9 | S-0-6-76 | SE-9-4-29 | C-1-91-43 | G-42-36-32 | U

Alara frowned at the cryptic alphanumeric string. Just seeing the code evoked a strong sense of déjà vu, as though she’d merely forgotten what those letters and numbers meant. The knowledge was lurking just below the surface, hidden in her memories like a half-remembered dream. She squinted at the code, willing it to connect to meaning in her brain. . . .

And then abruptly she had it. UGC stood for Universal Grid Coordinates, and it referred to the exact point in space of any object. Alara remembered that space was carved into progressively smaller coordinate cubes, each one represented by a letter. The very first class of grid divisions was K for
klick cube
or
K-cube
, meaning cubic kilometer. Each cubic grid unit inside a klick cube represented 10 cubic meters, which was the smallest unit of scale used in space navigation. Within the very next division of space, which was the letter T for
theater
, a whole k-cube became just one cubic grid unit out of a million on the star map. In turn, the next level up was an
orbital
and each of the million cubic grid units at that scale was an entire theater in size, with a theater itself being comprised of a million cubic klicks and stretching out for 100 km in every direction. So the coordinate cube which Alara had highlighted with her finger—T-56-71-14—which appeared as a glowing pinpoint on the map, represented a million cubic kilometers of space.

Alara shook her head, her mind boggling at the scale, but it got progressively worse from there, with each successive division of space being exactly a million times the size of the previous one, going all the way up to U, which stood for Universal. Each cubic grid unit inside the universal plot was the size of an entire galaxy.

How do I know all that?
Alara wondered again about her insight, and she was overcome by a dizzying wave of unreality and self-doubt. She quickly countered that with the reassurance that basic space navigation was likely a topic that most people had studied at school. Just because she remembered it didn’t mean that she was who everyone said she was. . . .

But as she continued to stare at the UGC code, Alara realized it wasn’t just something she’d studied once upon a time. She knew it by rote. When she closed her eyes, she could recite all the divisions of space in order from smallest to largest—
K-cube, Theater, Orbital, Zone, Area, Region, Solar, Sector, Cluster, Galaxy, Universe.

Alara’s eyes opened slowly, and she shook her head. Her mind went blank to protect itself from the dangerous thoughts which were now rallying around her and making her feel crazy. The AI’s voice found purchase in her blank mind—

“You can change the zoom of your star map by turning the dial located at the bottom right of the MHD.”

Alara nodded, and then she found herself staring at the blank screen behind the AI’s hovering head. Alara pointed to it. “What’s that holoscreen for?”

“Your secondary holo displays are best used to display more detailed target info as well as more detailed info about your own ship. All three displays are touch activated, but in time you will learn to more efficiently control your nova by speaking commands aloud, directly to me.

“You can call me whatever you like, change my gender, and even how I look, but you won’t see me appear unless you order me to.”

“Great! I’ve always wanted a pet bot.”

The AI ignored her sarcasm and went on, “The next flight system is your autopilot. You can set the autopilot directly from the star map by touching the screen where it says
AUTO
, or by verbally telling me which way to go and how fast you’d like to get there.”
 

Alara’s head spun with all the information, and a quick look around the cockpit at all the controls and displays which were still unfamiliar to her told her there was still much more to cover. She felt like she was on the brink of forgetting it all, but the talking head refused to give her a break. It went on from the autopilot to describe the comms, fire control systems, and shields, highlighting the indicated systems on her HUD and RHD before finally moving on to the preflight check. Alara felt relief wash through her. Those last systems weren’t much to master, just a matter of understanding how to read the gauges and toggle through the settings.

The preflight check appeared on her LHD while the talking head moved to one side so she could see it. The instructor went through the check with her, but told her that because she was a
greeny
he’d already done the
Before Ignition
checks without her.

Finally the tutorial was finished. The instructor told her to standby for launch while the other trainees finished their tutorials, and then he asked her if she’d like to give him a name while she waited. Alara thought about it for a moment before a name popped into her head.

“Ethan,” she said abruptly, not knowing why she’d picked that particular name.

“Very well. According to your identichip, your name is Alara Vastra. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alara.”

Alara’s brow furrowed, and the surge of doubt and unreality she’d just barely been holding at bay now washed over her like a tidal wave. Alara squeezed her eyes tightly shut, feeling simultaneously dizzy and horrified.

“Are you okay, Alara?” the AI asked.

That was the first time anyone had told her that her identichip didn’t match who she thought she was. Identichips were hard if not impossible to fake, so either Alara Vastra had been killed and her chip stolen to surgically implant it in her wrist, or she really was Alara Vastra.

“Okay, listen up, greenies!” a harsh voice cut through Alara’s helmet speakers, interrupting her thoughts. “We’re just awaiting the launch codes and then your autopilot will take you through the launch tubes by wing pairs. Myself and Guardian Two are flying in the faster Mark II’s, so we’ll be the first ones out. We’ll be off the comms and lying low on sensors while we go ahead of you to do the preliminary recon, so you’ll be on your own for a bit. Until I’m back, you’ll defer to Guardian Three, Captain Reese. He’s XO of this squadron, and also XO of the
Defiant
. Reese will be your secondary commander whenever I’m unavailable. Next in the chain of command after him is Guardian Five, or Lieutenant Gina Giord, and so on down the line. Let’s hope it never comes to that, or pretty soon one of you greenies will be leading the charge!” Ithicus laughed dryly before going on.

“As soon as you’re out the launch tubes, find the first nav point along your flight path and accelerate up to it. Most of you have been paired with an experienced nova pilot, so when in doubt, follow your wingmate’s lead. Make sure to stay either abreast of them or just behind them at all times, but
try
not to
crash into them. Ruh-kah, greenies! Guardian One out.”

Alara frowned. There’d been more than a hint of condescension in the commander’s voice, but she supposed that he wasn’t used to training pilots, particularly not ones as green as them.

A flicker of light and sound drew her eye and she turned to see the two novas immediately to her left rising off the deck. Their engines were still dark, so she assumed they were using grav lifts. As they rose, Alara saw that these two looked different from the fighter she’d climbed into. They were smaller and sharper—more needle-nosed than the Mark I’s.

Expecting to see the fighters’ engines light up and send them rocketing out into space, she was surprised when they rather turned 90 degrees and started toward a pair of glowing red launch tubes in the side wall of the hangar. Now their engines did ignite. There came a blinding flare of blue light, and she squinted against the glare. Her canopy darkened in response and she opened her eyes to watch as the first pair of novas disappeared inside the tubes with a brilliant flash and a soft, echoing crackle of dissipating energy.

Then Alara heard a
th-thunk,
and then: “Magnetic clamps disengaged. Grav lifts activated.” Her nova began to rise, and Alara gasped and gripped her armrests. She wasn’t ready for this.

As the nova turned and her view changed from that of the fuzzy blue-black of the hangar’s shielded opening to that of the glowing red launch tubes, she felt a flutter of trepidation. The tubes looked impossibly small for her fighter. What if the autopilot missed?

“Thrusters engaged,” her AI interrupted, and that was her only warning.

Alara heard a roar start up behind her and felt herself pinned against the flight chair. She saw the launch tubes rushing toward her, and resisted the urge to scream as her fighter reached the opening. As soon as it did, the tube flashed brightly around her, and she felt herself pinned even more violently to her chair. Her nova raced past consecutive rings of red light, each one flashing in turn as she reached it and heightening the feeling of acceleration. Now she did scream. All around her was a loud, crackling hum of energy. Her face twisted into a terrified grimace.

And then it was over. She shot out the tube and into star-speckled space. It had felt like forever, but the launch had barely lasted a second. She was still screaming on the other side, but she abruptly stopped when she felt her gorge rising. Alara clamped her lips tight and her cheeks bulged. She forced herself to relax and think about something else. The feeling of intense acceleration was gone, replaced by a much milder sensation. She dialed up her IMS to 100% to remove even that. A quick look at her throttle display showed her acceleration at 145 KAPS and her speed at 645 m/s and rising fast.

Alara heard someone’s laughter filter into her helmet. “Bet you greenies liked that!” It was Guardian One again. She was beginning to hate him. “If any of you got to see your breakfast in reverse, you’re cleaning it. If not, good for you. Head to your first nav point at 46-52-12 and follow the sequence from there. We’re entering comms silence until we reach Taylon, so don’t use your comms unless it’s an emergency or you spot something on gravidar. If you need someone to talk to, I’m sure your ships’ AIs will be happy to break the silence. Guardian One out.”

Alara frowned and sat blinking at the stars. They were even more impressive without the blue fuzz of the hangar shields to dull their brilliance.

“Alara, please set course for the first nav point.”

When Alara didn’t do anything, the AI asked, “Would you like me to set course for you?”

Alara nodded, which the AI took for a yes. She watched with wide, staring eyes as her view of the stars began to shift. The mottled red and purple ball of Taylon swung into view, and she saw the glowing green diamond of her nav point overlaid upon it. She found herself admiring the view of Taylon, tracing the red areas with her finger where they intersected the purple and wondering if the colors were from vegetation, or water, or just dust and rocks.

The waypoint grew rapidly larger as she approached, and then she sailed straight through the diamond-shaped opening, and the next waypoint appeared, small and distant against the planet. She noticed a pair of small numbers beside the HUD icon. The left one read
5,040 km
, while the right one gave a time in minutes and seconds
16:20
.

“Ethan, is that time beside my next waypoint the time to reach the target?”

“That is correct.”

“And the other number is distance.”

“Right again.”

“I guess I’m not so dumb after all.”

“Definitely not. Your identichip rates your intelligence as three standard deviations above the average.”

Alara frowned. “Have you been spying on me, Ethan?”

“No more than necessary. For example, I have no need to know your preference of beverage at a bar, but I am equipped to determine where you are in your cycle in order to establish a baseline for mood and volatility.”

“My cycle?”

“Menstruation.”