Scout Force (9 page)

      
“We’d like to bring everyone’s attention to the presence of an outsider in our midst, begging entry into our august body.
 
I present to the Fighting 68th a mediocre pilot, a so-so officer, and a miserable human being wishing to improve his lot in life by sharing the company of the finest, deadliest, craftiest, fighter pilots in the known universe.”
 
A loud cheer erupted.

      
“I offer up for your consideration one 2LT Kelly Blake.
 
LT Blake comes to us fresh out of fighter transition school, where he had the singular honor of never having lost an engagement.
 
Now we all know how ineffective the cadre are as fighter pilots in transition school, but it is an achievement that may make him worthy to grace our presence.
 
Pilots of the Fighting 68th, what say you?”

      
A resounding nay boomed through the wardroom, followed by gales of laughter.

      
“LT Blake, the Fighting 68th has spoken.
 
Even though we don’t want you, all the other squadrons in Fighter Force voted before us and they don’t want you either.
 
I guess we’re stuck with you.
 
Members of the Fighting 68th, fill your glasses.
 
Yes, I know its only water, iced tea, and soft drinks, but fill them anyway.
 
Damn the Fleet regulations against alcohol on ships.
 
Fill your glasses and toast our newest Squab, Kelly Blake.”

      
At that point every glass in the room was raised in the air and the contents thrown at LT Blake.
 
Dripping from all manner of non-alcoholic drinks, Kelly had just been initiated into the Fighting 68th.

      
Every 68th officer in the room passed by, shook his hand, and welcomed him.
 
The executive officer walked up to Kelly, shook his hand and slapped the 68th’s patch onto the adhesive strips on his shoulder.

      
“Welcome again, LT Blake.
 
If your academic and training reports are halfway true, you will make a fine addition to the squadron.
 
Did you really smoke MAJ San Giacamo in fighter training?
 
He and I have been squadron mates and classmates many times.”

      
“Well, sir, I think I got lucky that day,” replied Kelly.

      
“Don’t BS me son, I’ve read your file.
 
San Jack wrote up a special commendation for that maneuver you used on him.
 
What impressed him most was that you did such a radical maneuver and were still within safety parameters.
 
He tells me you used your landing thruster to slow you down and raise your fighter 25 meters above the flight plane, let San Jack’s fighter pass beneath you, and dropped back down on his tail.
 
I would have loved to see his face when the damage sim showed he was smoked.
 
How did you keep from blacking out from the G-forces?”

      
“I didn’t, sir.
 
I programmed the flight computer to acquire and fire the moment I had dropped back down to the original flight plane.
 
I went up.
 
I went down.
 
I passed out.
 
The computer shot MAJ San Giacamo down.
 
I came to, turned away and shot down his wingman.
 
Easy.”

      
“Easy?
 
That’s hilarious.
 
Oh by the way, you have an appointment with the Squadron Commander, LTC Sam Matthews, at 0800.
 
Be prompt.
 
Here, let me introduce you to your Flight Leader, Captain Willis.”

      
CPT Willis was a pleasant looking woman.
 
Not a beauty, but not ugly either.
 
Kelly would fit in the same category.
 
He was okay to look at, but not one to make women swoon at his passing.

      
CPT Willis walked over at MAJ. Brown’s introduction, shook Kelly’s hand, introduced herself as Janey, and walked him over to where the drinks were kept.
 
She picked a towel off of an orderly’s arm and handed it to Kelly.

      
“Go ahead, take a moment and dry yourself off a bit.
 
Those taking part in the initiation can get a bit over enthusiastic.
 
I hope that is not your best uniform.”

      
Kelly dabbed ineffectually at his sodden uniform while CPT Willis continued.

“Welcome to the squadron.
 
We have the new F-53 fighters.
 
They are quite a bit faster and turn a bit tighter than the F-40s you trained on in fighter transition training.
 
I think you’ll enjoy flying it.
 
It has a computer on-board that you can customize to your personal preferences.
 
It also uses artificial intelligence to be able to anticipate your requirements.
 
Sometimes, if you aren’t forceful with them, they can be a bit too independent.
 
You will be wingman for First Lieutenant Angie Shappelle.
 
Here she is now.
 
Angie, come over here and meet your new wingman.”

      
Angie Shappelle was a petite brunette about 5’ 6”.
 
There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
 
Angie filled out her flight suit quite well.
 
As she came closer he caught a faint whiff of oranges and some other spice he couldn’t identify.
 
He remembered her from transition training, but hoped she wouldn’t remember him right away.
 
In their last meeting, Angie came to a sticky end.
 
Luckily, she didn’t make the connection.

      
“Glad to meet you, LT Blake.
 
Here, give me that rag.
 
You missed a spot or two.”
 
Angie took the towel and wiped up some of the celebration.

      
“Tell me about yourself, Blake.
 
If you're going to watch my six, I’d better know a bit about you.”

      
“Not much to say.
 
I grew up on Earth in North America.
 
My folks are exoatmospheric electronic engineers.
 
They designed most of the long-range data router stations that make communications in the Galactic Republic possible.
 
They pioneered many of the Faster-Than-Light communications protocols that give us our near instantaneous comms.
 
I followed in their footsteps for a while.
 
I went to college and got my EE degree, but it just didn’t seem what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.
 
I applied to the Academy and was accepted.
 
I graduated high enough in my class to get my choice of assignments, and I picked Fighter Force.
 
I like being in charge of my own destiny.”

      
“Well, just remember that as my wingman, you are in charge of my destiny, too.”

      
Kelly said, “Don’t worry, I’ll cover your six for you.”

      
“You will, will you?
 
See you tomorrow.”
 
With that she grinned, turned, and swished her hips as she walked away.
 
It was a nice six to watch.

      
CPT Willis said, “Come over here and meet 1LT Kanakis.
 
John, This is Kelly Blake.
 
He will be Angie’s wingman.
 
John here is my wingman.”

      
1LT Kanakis was a little shorter than Kelly, but was broader in the shoulders.
 
Kelly suspected he was a body builder.
 
The sleeves of his flight suit seemed unusually tight on his arms.

      
“It’s great to have you aboard, Kelly.
 
I was starting to feel outnumbered by all these women.”

      
CPT Willis sniffed and said, “Is that testosterone I’m smelling?
 
It smells kind of fruity, doesn’t it?”

      
1LT Kanakis grabbed his chest like he’d been shot through the heart.
 
“Ow!
 
Cut down in my prime.
 
That’s gonna leave a mark.”

      
CPT Willis walked off laughing, leaving the two of them together.

      
“Kelly, you can take off that stupid hat now.
 
Once you get soaked you passed the initiation.
 
Of course, you have to keep it in your cabin and take care of it until the next squab is initiated.
 
There is one other requirement.
 
As the junior lieutenant in the squadron, you have to wear it at any Squadron dining-ins until you can pass it off to the next newbie.
 
Of course, embarked on the Bolivar, we probably won’t have any dining-ins.
 
Lack of dining space and alcohol keeps those events to a minimum.”
 
John raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, and shrugged his shoulders.

      
“You’re coming into a good unit.
 
The old man is probably the finest fighter pilot in the Fighter Force.
 
He’s not a stickler for military discipline, but it’s best not to push too far in that direction.”

      
Kelly’s stomach rumbled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since he came on board much earlier that day.
 
He turned to LT Kanakis and said, “Hey John, I don’t mean to cut you off, but I’m starving.
 
I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

      
LT Kanakis looked at Kelly like he was seeing him for the first time and said, “Oh I’m sorry, grab the ancient ceremonial hat and follow me.”

      
They walked out of the wardroom into the passageway and turned right.
 
The next large compartment down the passageway was one of the six dining rooms on the Bolivar, and the one most often used by the Carrier Fighter Wing.

      
“If you are hungry, this is the best dining room on the Bolivar.
 
Our mess crew runs this facility and they tend to be a bit more creative in their menu than the other dining rooms.
 
Of course, the downside of this is that the senior officers of the ship tend to favor us with their presence a lot.
 
If you are a lot hungry, go to the steam table.
 
They usually have a couple of plates to choose from.”

      
Kelly went to the steam table as John had suggested and found fried chicken and something that looked like a giant snail.
 
He erred on the side of familiarity, chose the chicken, added a side of potatoes, and some sort of greens.
 
LT Kanakis chose the giant snail-looking thing, corn and sautéed mushrooms.
 
They both got tea at the drink counter and found a table.

      
“Kelly, you’re going to love the F-53.
 
These are the models with extendable wings for atmospheric flight, as well as space flight.
 
We don’t get much practice at atmospheric flight, though.
 
I did it once when we passed through an uninhabited system a few months back.
 
It felt funny after having done so much flying in open space.
 
It took me a while to remember how to allow for crosswinds and gusts on landing.”

      
“These F-53s are great.
 
The flight computer gives you so much added flexibility.
 
The computer can take over some of the routine tasks, leaving you free to concentrate on critical tasks like combat, landings, and takeoffs.
 
Mine has quite a personality.
 
I call mine Ben.
 
You can make yours anything you want–male, female, or machine voice.
 
It’s just like having a copilot along with you.
 
On long patrols, you can even turn over the flight controls to it and catch some sleep.
 
Ben even watches my six for me.
 
The sensor array gives him a much better view of the surroundings than me.”

      
“So, John, how are things here on the Bolivar?
 
I’ve studied the schematics of the Lincoln class carriers, so I should be able to find my way around okay.
 
How do the wing and the ship’s company get along?
 
Are there any local customs I should know about?
 
We learned Fleet protocols at the Academy, so you don’t need to cover the obvious things, but ship customs, taboos, and faux pas to avoid.”

      
“Well, there are two flag officers onboard the Bolivar.
 
One flag officer is often one too many, but we get to live with two.
 
The Battle Fleet Commander is Admiral Haddock-Halloway and the Fleet Air Commander is General Bugarov.
 
I think we got both because this is the latest Lincoln class carrier and it was designed with an expanded flag country as a battle fleet flagship.”