Author's note
This is not the end. It is only the beginning. It's been
over two years since I sat down, a bunch of papers in Hebrew
in my lap and a great idea about translating it running
through my head. I do not wish to describe all the halts,
all the breaks, all the writers' blocks and all the
priorities that delayed the translation. However, in these
two years, the story grew, improved and upgraded itself as I
ran it through my head. This is not exactly a translated
version for the original story but rather the original -
only upgraded and modified for non-Hebrew readers. Certain
people - meaning the veterans of Origin's wonderful Wing
Commander computer games series, might feel uneasy with this
story - Constance Briggs is not Christopher Blair. These
veterans may be mad at me for letting the fifth and
currently last game of the series drop and not mentioning
it. Well, unlike the first four, the fifth stinks! It was no
more Wing Commander than the Enterprise is. Other people -
the kind that never rejoiced dropping a Kilrathi out of the
sky, may well be baffled by all the data and info that seems
to just pop here and there (Who the hell is Christopher
Blair for example). Those people are recommended to turn
towards the last pages, where the special edition gives some
data about Wing Commander Series.
To Origin, the company that brought the universe this great
series I'd like to say just this: "Thank you. You really
create worlds".

Dedicated to my older brother, Amitai - for he is to be
blamed for my Fighter-mania

Wing Commander Academy

"You live, You Learn" - Alanis Morissette
"Nothing worth learning is easy to learn" - Roger Zelazny
"I hate easy targets" - Mark Hamill is Christopher Blair

Chapter one
It all started because my family is full of pilots. My
grandfather flew a fighter. His two sons, my father and my
uncle, followed him and flew fighters. My cousin is a
fighter pilot. Even my older brother is a pilot. So as
someone who was born "with the stick in hand" as dad said, I
decided to become a pilot myself. There were only two
problems with that. One is that I was born in one of the
Borderworlds, which were not too popular among the
confederate people lately. Well, in the last eleven years
would be more exact. Even though Colonel Christopher Blair
proved that we weren't the ones to start the conflict, and
that it never got to the point of war, some hotheads still
said it would be better to trust the Kilrathi. The second
reason was simple: the confederation preferred male pilots.
Not for the first time, I was sorry for being born a woman.
True, there were lots of women serving as pilots, but they
usually got stuck in meaningless points of the galaxy, doing
boring patrols rather than shooting down enemies. "Connie"
mom disrupted my thinking, "ready the table! You know we
have to make good impression on the Major!'' "Yes mom," I
cried. Of course we had a robotic table-setter. What house
that respects itself wouldn't have one? But Major Wilson's
visit required impression! Ha, I wouldn't care if the dumb
robot broke all the stupid china plates. And what's the real
difference between ordinary glass and the darn Altarian
crystal? Why the hell it is that dad had the need to make
good impression on his old comrade? The fact Major Wilson
served in the confederation navy long after dad had retired,
earned him great respect from dad. I didn't find the 46
years old man so impressive. He was just in charge of the
recruitment of new pilots from this planet, so what- Hey!
Wait a second! Am I dumber than the universe allows? He's
exactly the man I need to talk to about recruitment to the
confederation. Suddenly, setting the rare Altarian crystal
glasses and the Beautiful china plates seemed an important
task.

Major Wilson was a short and sturdy man. Under his moustache
he had a warm smile. Dad always addressed him as 'Major'. In
fact, we all did. After exchanging pleasantries, dad turned
us toward the dinner table. The Major sniffed the air and
declared, "I will have six plates of your wonderful Goulash
tonight, Melissa". Mom smiled warmly and said, "Oh three
will be enough for you, Major, or your figure's visibility
will compete with mine. I will not have that, Major. We need
only one 'continuous pregnancy' around". It seemed that mom
was over-weighed mainly because of her excellent cooking.
Indeed, mom's Goulash was one of the finest in the universe.
Someone once told me that had we given some of it as tribute
of peace, we hadn't been forced to blow the Kilarthi's
homeplanet.  Eating didn't require too much time, but I felt
I'm going to burst out of tension. "Come on!" I thought,
"Start talking about fighters!". They always talked about
fighters and flights in the end of a meal. It seemed to be
something pilots do. This time wasn't different. As usual,
they spoke of missions and flights, who had the nastier
commander, whose kill was the most extraordinary and so on.
Dad almost choked of laughter, hearing one of the Major's
more interesting stories. "You just think you had bad luck
that day!" he declared, smiling. "I remember that flight
against the TCS (TCS means Terran Confederation Ship)
Middlesboro. Now that was BAD LUCK!" He said. "They had five
wings of Hellcats. Think of it, ten Hellcats against the
four Vindicators our frigate carried. Seems hopeless, eh?".
We all nodded. "The Middlesboro had two heavy destroyers
with it, which rained the fires of hell on our heads. The
Hellcats weren't that bad, but we were the best pilots of
the Yorkshire. My wingmen were Michel Goutier- you remember
old 'Crusader', right?" The Major nodded. "Hardly ever
wasted a missile," he said, "one shot, one kill. Yeah I
remember old crusader". Dad continued, "So anyway, Crusader,
'Poison' who was still young but already outstanding, me and
another one, forgot his name... forget it. They shot down
the Hellcats one by one, and I was still looking for a kill.
I was sitting on the tail of one who flew like an ace! I
tell you, you've never seen an ace if you hadn't seen that
guy. I had six Imrecs in my hardpoints. I shot one and the
bastard evaded. I shot another one, and that guy just
released three decoys in mere seconds and got out of it. So
I decided to do a neat trick. I ceased my gunshots and fired
my afterburners.  After three seconds, I was on his tail,
maybe fifty meters away. And then, from that close range, I
shot the third Imrec- You know the 'backstab' trick Major,
no one gets out of it- but the god damn bastard broke and
halted his engines! Somehow he anticipated that shot and got
out of it". Dad silenced. "When the last Hellcat went
blasting away, I heard him cry 'Avenge my death,
Braveheart!'. It was after almost ten minutes of fighting,
my Tachyon guns hit a sore spot in the bastard's power
plant, and he cried, 'This is Braveheart, I'm going down!'
and blasted away". The Major chuckled and then sighed. "It
was a hard war," he said, "damaged us more than anything the
Kilrathi could have brought!". The conversation went on and
on, until it reached the usual argument of which bomber is
better. There are three kinds of fighter-crafts. The light
fighters are swift and agile but are frail and have light
firepower. The medium fighters are a combination of
swiftness and agility that are verging on the proximity of
the light fighter's, and endurance and firepower that climb
towards the bomber's. The bomber, AKA heavy fighter, is as
the name suggests, a load of firepower and endurance that
leaves little space for speed. The common Confederation
bomber is the Longbow. The huge fighter has an incredible
amount of missiles, sixteen anti-fighter missiles and four
torpedoes against Capital ships. The Borderworlds' bomber is
the Avenger. It has eight anti-fighters missiles and four
torpedoes. But the Avenger is (comparing to the Longbow)
swifter, and has a superior agility. The Longbow often needs
to use its Identify-Friend-or-Foe missiles to protect itself
while the Avenger could, most times, maneuver enough to
engage a smaller fighter in dogfight. At that point I
decided to raise the matter that was bugging me. Exactly
then dad used his usual argument, that with the Avenger's
superior agility and speed, one could evade all the sixteen
missiles of the Longbow. "Even when he was young, I've seen
Poison doing things like that. He used to return untouched
from battles that included lots of missiles. The Major
claimed that had the Kilrathi owned fighters with such high
payloads, we'd all be kitten-food. "You just can't engage
something with so many missiles. Hell, most light fighters
carry less decoys than the Longbows' payload. I wouldn't
want to fly against that thing". I interrupted dad's answer
and said, "I'd like to fly them both!". Abruptly the chatter
ceased. For a long moment, everyone stared at me with
surprise. "I understand you want to walk the 'family's
path', eh?" asked the Major. "Yes Major," said I. He
measured me with his eyes. After a few moments, he said,
"you're in the right age, you got the appropriate physical
attributes, and the way I know your family, you wont break
easily. But I wonder..." he paused, then, "if you want to be
a pilot just cause it's a family tradition or because it
really is something that attracts you?". I didn't hesitate.
"Since I was young," I said, "I wanted to be a pilot, to fly
a fighter for real!". "I guess you want to be like Colonel
Blair?" said the Major, a slight smile on his face. "No
Major. Like 'Panther'!" said I. Colonel Tamara Farnsworth,
known more as Panther, was no doubt one of the most skilled
fighter pilots flying in the Kilrathi war. She also gained
great reputation in the conflict with the confederation, as
a skilled commander and pilot. I read everything I could
find on her. The Major sighed and said, "ah, now that's a
name I haven't heard for a long time. Nowadays everybody
wants to be like Blair. No one remember Panther and her
usual companion, Hawk. At best, people remember them as
people who helped the Borderworlds in the conflict. They
were both great pilots, almost as good as Blair. But no one
remembers them. Shame!". "I remember them!" said I. The
Major sighed again. "I'll see what I can do" he said.

After the Major left, argues started. Dad was proud of my
wish to walk the 'family's path', while mom didn't want to
see me go. Plus the surprise I made, bringing that matter in
the last minute, wasn't the kind of surprises mom liked. The
argue didn't get to an end, and started five days of bitter
argues, shouts and mean words. Oh and there was one small
problem: mom always won arguments. I knew that if she'll win
this one, I'd never go to the space academy.

And as usual, mom won.

Chapter two
"Incoming coded message" the computer's monotonous voice
woke me up. The message was for me. "Computer, display coded
message!" said I. "Voice and Code identification needed!"
answered the machine. "Identify:" said I, "Briggs, Constance
Diana, citizen code 945798702212/45". "Identification
approved!" Said the computer. The monitor showed the serious
face of a woman. "This is a message for Connie D. Briggs! If
you are not Connie D. Briggs, you are in violation of
galactic law 6671 Paragraph 4 by seeing this message. Connie
D. Briggs, you are hereby invited to flight-qualification
tests on the sixth day of the fourth month, at 13:40 Zulu
match time, if you cannot arrive, you must inform us at
least three days before the tests. Confide message, out!".
The message had a map to show me where the tests will be. An
hour ride in a hoverbus. The sixth day of the fourth month??
That gave me exactly a day and a half to get ready! Damn you
confide, couldn't you tell me earlier? I couldn't even
cancel! And then, in a split of second, I made my decision.


The marine standing at the base's gates glared at me with
suspicion in his eyes. "Identify yourself!" he commanded.
"Briggs, Constance Diana, citizen code 945798702212/45". A
computerized blip sound was heard, and then, "Identified,
room 609". "Get in! Don' cause any trouble! I've had enough
of you birdbrains! Always making troubles. Think 'ach one of
you 's the next Colonel Blair" grumbled the marine and moved
out of my way. I found room 609 easily. It was marked so
well that a blind ape wouldn't miss it in 9 out of 9 trials.
I noticed that besides Major Wilson, and the woman from the
coded message, there were two other majors in the room.
After a number of questions, they sent me to another room.
After lots of rooms, tests and checks, I returned to room
609. "Constance Diana Briggs," started Major Wilson, his
voice verging between 'The Supreme Official' and 'You've got
a serious disease' tones, "you have passed all the tests,
and found qualified to join the confederation space academy.
Congratulations Recruit Briggs". He handed me a
service-form, which I've read carefully before signing. "One
of us!" smiled Major Wilson. The woman from the message
said, "Recruit Briggs, the next course is starting in three
days. We don't recruit so hastily without voluntary
agreement. You could choose to wait three months for the
next course. What would it be?". I thought about carefully
and found no reason to wait three months. "The sea-tides
wait for no one," I answered, "I'll join the close one".
"As you say," the Major smiled, "the tides await no one, and
so does love and Confide hoverbuses. Be it then, the matter
is resolved. You must report to the Illiana spaceport
tomorrow at 07:00 in the morning. You will board a shuttle
to the academy that takes off in 07:15 from gate nine. If
you will not be on this shuttle, you will be considered a
deserter! Am I understood?" the woman gave me a tough look.
I nodded, keeping my face clear of any emotions. "My
congratulations Recruit Briggs," this was Major Wilson
again, "and the congratulations of us all. Destiny can't
wait. Dismissed!".

Now I had a tough mission to accomplish. I had to find
somewhere to sleep. I didn't lack the money (Confed gave
every new recruit a gratuity), and Illiana was only seven
miles away. I could find a motel there. But darkness was
already descending, and the last hoverbus to Illiana
probably passed here already. Hitchhiking at such hours
might be dangerous. I couldn't go home even if there was a
hoverbus going there. In fact, what I did was running away
from home, and the big bag I carried with me was the proof.
So would the electronote I left on my pillow when I left.
"What do I do?" I asked myself. "Hello there!" called a
voice from an unknown direction. I looked around
apprehensively. My hand clasped the stun gun I 'borrowed'
from mom. Law enforcement wasn't at it's best lately, and
crimes that were long-gone started reappearing in the tough
economic situation. A lone man, riding a hoverbike, was
approaching me from the base's gates. "I'm on my way to
Illiana, need a ride?" he asked. He was- well he was the
most gorgeous guy I've ever seen. And he didn't look too
dangerous. Looking back, I think that I was stupid enough
not to realize that the worst types of crooks are the ones
that look like angels. But I was naïve then so I
nodded, climbed the hoverbike and sat behind him. I pressed
the button that put the safety buckles on and said, "go".

About a quarter an hour later, the guy put me down near a
small motel in the entrance to Illiana. "Here's where I'm
staying tonight. I got a spare bed in my room, you'll be
welcomed" he smiled a calming smile at sight of my
embarrassed frown. "I know, you're afraid to spend the night
with me. You don't even know me. I could be a crook with
angelic face. I could take advantage and stuff like this. I
swear in my honor, that I'll do nothing against your will.
Hey, I'm not even armed, see?". He showed me his pockets.
There was something in his tone that made me believe what he
said. The offer was seducing. It would take some time before
I received my first Confed paycheck and my bank account
wouldn't last too long. I sent my hand forward. "I'll be
delighted!" I said. He clasped my hand, and said "I'm Jason
Galadread, but everyone calls me Jay". "Connie Briggs" said
I. "I'll buy you dinner if you'd like," he said. "I'd love
too" said I. While we ate, I found Jay was a charming person
from the inside as from the outside. I was so charmed, that
I spent most of dinner staring at him. Even though I was
never a big eater, I ate even less in that dinner. And not
because I didn't like the taste of the oysters. At a late
stage of the meal I felt tired, and offered to go to the
room. Jay wasn't lying. There were two beds in the room.
"You can shower first" he said. I was about to go when I
realized the meaning of my recruitment. I wasn't sure I
could find someone between the few recruits in the academy
that would fit my taste, and I heard you don't get many
vacations out of the academy. I decided that since it was my
last night of civil life, I deserved to have some fun. So,
using a seducing tone I said, "Let's shower together".
Eventually, we spent the night in the same bed.

The ringing of the alarm clock that was set to 6:15 woke me
up. Jay wasn't in the room. "Oh well, he fucked me, robbed
me and then disappeared" I thought when I found my wallet
outside the overall pocket. My bankcard was in its usual
place. A quick check showed that it wasn't touched since
yesterday's noon, when I paid the hoverbus driver. "He
didn't rob me then!" I grumbled. "But what is the wallet
doing outside the pocket?" I thought. And then I found a
small note, written by hand in an old fashioned manner.

My dearest Connie
I never got to tell you that I'm leaving the planet this
morning.
Farewell, and hope we have the chance to meet again.
Jay

"That's it then" I thought. "You didn't even need to say
goodbye to him". There were tears in my eyes. But crying
won't convince a Kilrathi ace as dad used to say. I grabbed
new clothing and went to take a hovercab to the spaceport.

Chapter three
After a long term with a short terminal, I found gate nine.
There was a tall guy with short dark hair talking to a
Confed sergeant. "Could it be?" I asked myself emotionally.
The guy turned around and I fell into his arms. "Jay!" I
cried. "Connie, what are you doing here??" he asked.
"I'll... Be....  A pilot!" I managed to murmur. His arms
tightened around me. "you're going to the academy too??" he
asked. "Yeah," I murmured. "Connie Briggs?" the sergeant
broke his silence. "Yeah" said I. "you must address anyone
with a higher rank than you as 'Sir!"  Said the sergeant
angrily. "I'm sorry... Sir" said I hesitantly. "Recruits
Briggs and Galadread, please board the shuttle" said the
sergeant in an extremely visible artificial patience. "Yes
Sir," we answered in choir and entered the shuttle. Emotions
tided inside me. I was about to leave the remote planet in
Tyr system, and go to another system! I felt as if my heart
is going to explode. The shuttle took off gently, easily
cutting-off from the planet's gravity. I decided to
apologize to Jay about the 'one-night-stand' act of the
prior evening. It wasn't a nice thing to face. I opened my
mouth and shut it when he opened his. "Sorry," I said, "you
were saying?". "I want to apologize," he said, "You're
probably insulted 'cause of the one-night-stand thing of
yesterday so...". "Jay," I chuckled, "I was about to
apologize for the same thing. Do me a favor and delete the
one-night stand. Let's make it a long-term stand".
"Many-Nights-stand" Jay chuckled back, "I would love to".
The shuttle moved to space, closing at a jump-buoy.
Jump-buoys were gates in and out of hyperspace. The buoy was
smaller than a fighter, and I wasn't sure if these miracles
did exist. Something inside me feared we'll crash with the
small glittering object and destroy it. But as we neared it,
a giant gray-purple-white spill of light opened. Light
engulfed us for a moment then disappeared. "Welcome to
Beetlejuice system, folks," said the sergeant, "Please keep
your seatbelts buckled until we finish landing". "Who
would've believed," grumbled Jay, "that the academy will be
in a system called after Beetlejuice?". I chuckled quietly.
"Ready for landing," reported the pilot. I looked outside
the window. A giant red star was some distance from us. A
smaller gray planet was closer. There was a space station
orbiting the planet. That was the academy. This is where
every Confed pilot learned. One year and a half course was
opened every three months. You had to pass these eighteen
months to become a Confed fighter pilot. Even my dad passed
here. When the conflict emerged, dad defected, as did many
pilots, including the famed Colonel Christopher Blair, to
the ranks of the Borderworlds. The conflict was inches close
to become a full-blown war, but Christopher Blair had proven
that Confed Admiral Tolwyn was the provoker of the conflict,
using a force of secretly trained elite warriors. The force,
codenamed 'Black Lance' was revealed by Colonel Blair and to
the relief of everyone the war ended before it had a chance
to start. Yet the war left hard feelings in both sides. As
most defectors, dad was pardoned and he was released of
duty.

The shuttle landed on one if the many flight decks of the
academy. We went out of it, and the sergeant said, "Go
check-in at the cadet computer". He pointed at a terminal
where a heavy muscled man and a redheaded woman were
standing and arguing. We neared them. "I tell you man," I
heard the woman saying, " my father was Blade, so I'll be
Lance!". The man was obviously bewildered. "Jane," he said,
"Lance is not a good callsign for a female! You gotta admit
that!". "You don't understand!" Jane was almost shouting.
Her face was red with anger as she cried, "all the pilots in
my family were called after ancient weapons!". "Try, hmmm,
Napalm Strike" the guy suggested. "Edged ancient weapons!"
now she was really crying out loud. "But Lance is just not
appropriate for a woman. Something to do with cultural
conventions, you know. How about Longbow?". "NO!!!" cried
Jane, "Do I look that fat to you, you moron??". The guy
looked helpless. Jay smiled warmly. "Wudga think about
Spear?" he asked. "Jay you dumb ass! Now you're in trouble!"
I thought. "Spear?" asked Jane, "Spear sounds good". "yeah,
definitely" the big guy rushed to exploit the shelter, "Jane
'Spear' Oldziey. Yeah that fits!". Jane smiled, as calm as
if she just woke up from a golden slumber. "Thanks very
much!" she said. "Anything for the lady" Jay's smile was so
wide that I thought his face will crack. "I'm Jane Oldziey,
and this is Terry Halley" she introduced, "We're both from
Beta Ceti IV, somewhere in the fringes of Gamma sector" .
"She's Connie Briggs, and I'm Jason Galadread, but everybody
calls me Jay, we're both from Tyr V, the Borderworlds" said
Jay as we clutched the hands of our new mates.
"Borderworlders, eh?" Jane smiled, "my father was one of the
smart guys who defected during the conflict". "So was my
father," said Jay and I added my father to the list. "Don't
look at me that way," Terry excluded himself, "I'm the first
pilot in my family. My dad actually resented against my
recruitment. He said, 'I don't mind you flying. But that's
suicide'. I managed to work it out finally. Luckily my
father doesn't mind arguing but that was a potential war. I
wanted to fly". We nodded in agreement. I suppressed an urge
to tell them that I was actually here against my parents-
well, my mother's- will. "So anyways, my dad returned to Tyr
when everything ended" said Jay, "I guess that's what
Connie's father did too". He gave me a questioning look and
I nodded. Many of the defectors found their places among the
ranks of Borderworlds. The Borderworlders excluded
themselves from the Terran Confederation due to a supposed
lack of freedom. Outsiders were well welcomed in the
Borderworlds, at least when they caused no harm. "I
sometimes wish my dad would have done that," said Jane, "he
took me once to Ukko system, to meet an old friend of his.
Now, that guy, Primate they called him, took us on a trip
around one of the cities. I swear in my beloved Dogbot, you
should have seen me there, finally realizing how much
non-conformism could be good. And then Primate, who was
actually a cute and gentle guy, shows into a mass meeting.
And everybody just speak their minds freely, and you don't
need an invitation to speak your mind". "People just
interfere with conversations?" asked Terry. "Phrase it as
people don't mind handing their advice to people they just
met," Jane winked at Jay. "And we don't mind saying 'don't
count on him'" I added, smiling. "So," said Terry, "have you
thought of callsigns?". Every pilot chooses a radio
callsign. Like Tamara Farnsworth was Panther, for example.
Imagine yourself flying with two people sharing a common
name. It would be truly weird if people start calling,
"Chris, Chris" and you don't know which one they mean.
Actually, my father told me that Christopher Blair was not
the only pilot to be called 'Maverick'. Thus, he told me,
during the long Kilrathi war, when my father was still fresh
from the academy, he was onboard 'TCS Washington' with a
pilot who had the same callsign. It took him a long time to
understand that he is not flying with 'TCS Tiger's Claw'
hero and that the famous Maverick is onboard another
carrier, the 'TCS Victory'. Yet again, common callsigns are
very uncommon. I wanted to be innovative and original. I
suddenly wanted to get rid of the numbness in my creative
areas. I never thought of an original callsign for myself. I
usually used Panther when I played the simulator at home.
But after a moment of hard thinking, I found a matching
callsign. If there was a Panther, why shouldn't there be a
Lioness? - Lioness sounded most appropriate. It was, of
course, as innovative and creative as the names of most
Capital Ships. "I always wanted to be 'Shadow'" said Jay,
claiming his new and not uncommon callsign. "I chose Comet!"
said Terry, "And Jane is Spear". They looked at me.
"Lioness!" said I, decisive as ever. Jay smiled approvingly.
Score one for corny recycling.

After entering my name, citizen code and callsign, to the
terminal, I found the time to look at the flight deck. I saw
a PFC ranked marine looking at us. "Ya the new ones?" he
asked. "Yes" Terry introduced us. The PFC snorted
dismissively. "Ya in deck six, room nine. Ya must be ready
tomorrow at o-seven-'undred for morning parade! You only
hang in deck six's dinning hall, the observation deck and
the Recruits' club. Ya'll go where ya're told, when ya're
told, in the speed ya're told! My clear?". Every one nodded
at the weirdly speaking marine. He shook his head, "I'll
give ya th's 'dvice. Do what ya're told, and only what ya're
told, and ya'll get along here. Nobody's 'scrutinizing ya'
but disobedience 'll not be 'ccepted!" he turned around and
walked away. Jane's face twisted as she put her tongue out
at his back. "What a creep! You could think he's a colonel
or something! All marines are full of shit! My dad once told
me about this guy Dekker, and..." said she. "Jane," sighed
Terry, "I'm dead tired, I really want to see the room!".

The room was- in simple words- a cell. "Only god knows how
they managed to get four beds in here," murmured Jane. "And
lockers too!" Terry was the only optimist. That cell could
give a hard case of claustrophobia to a bug. That didn't
improve Jane's mood. We hardly managed to put our bags down
when the room's speaker came alive. "All new Recruits,
report to laundry room immediately". "Don't tell me we're
gonna do laundry!" Jane sounded nervous. After few minutes,
and a number of directions, we found laundry room. About ten
people stood in a line, waiting for their uniforms. We
entered the line and waited. When I got my Sapphire-blue
uniform, I was amazed to see the chest stripe. It said, in
clear white: 'Lioness'. Jane showed-off her uniform proudly,
and the word 'Spear' was easily recognizable. "They catch it
fast!" grumbled Terry. Following the rest of the others, I
went into the toilet and changed my clothing. When I stepped
out, I noticed a short thin guy looking at me, giggling.
"What's your problem, ahm, eh..." a quick glance at the
chest-stripe, "Titan?". "I was just wondering where in hell
did you find such an imbecilic callsign such as Lioness?" he
said. He was obviously just making fun, but I answered
directly. "Ever heard of Panther?" I asked. The smile
vanished abruptly. It seemed as if a watch-vid's monitor
suddenly failed. "A fair pilot" he said, his face darkening,
"but fought for the wrong side!". I wasn't looking for
fights, and I might've let it slip, but that was Panther he
was denouncing. I had to defend my heroine's reputation, as
every good fan should do. "Life ain't that simple" I tried
the compromising way. After all, I wasn't up for a fight.
Titan snorted his scorn. "whoever chooses to shoot down
pilots of her own side is a treacherous bitch!" he declared
angrily. "Any problem?" I was suddenly pissed. That whole
conflict was a setup. Panther never chose to shoot down
pilots from her own side. She just fought for her side, in a
battle that neither side wanted nor started. Pilots from
both sides were gulled to get killed by their own allies.
That guy had believed all the bogus from back then and even
worse, by the way he talked, I gathered he was a damn
racist. The Borderworlds never accepted nor acknowledged any
type of racism. We were, you could say, racists when it came
to racism. So I was infuriated. "I'm a Borderworlder too," I
told him "does it make me a treacherous bitch too??". His
frown changed to fiery hatred. "I should have known!" he
said angrily. He marched stiffly towards the door, his
shoulder pushing me aside vulgarly as he passed. Then, he
turned around and said, "You stay away from me, bitch!". He
turned to walk away and- fell when Jane tripped him. He got
up fast, and raised his hand towards Jane. "One more time-"
he started, when Terry cut him by seizing his raised arm.
Jay stood between Titan and Jane, well hiding the fact that
he was trying to stop her from hurting Titan rather than
being hurt by him. "One more time what?" asked Terry,
scorning. Titan glanced at Terry's over-muscular body, at
Jay, who was definitely not a wimp, and also reckoned that
Jane was looking for something heavy to throw. He pulled his
arm free and went away. "Congrats!" said a recruit that had
the callsign 'Rockbiter' on his chest-stripe. "What?" asked
Terry, folding his arms on his gigantic chest. "Oh,
nothing," Rockbiter raised his hands in a peaceful
I-don't-feel-like-fighting-you-man gesture and said, "You
just gained a life-time of hatred from Titan!". "He
started!" said I, the shock dragging me back to kindergarten
linguistics. "You didn't get it, Lioness. Titan death-hates
the Borderworlds. And I for one, can hardly blame him for
that. A Vindicator pilot killed his old man in the conflict,
when Titan was mere seven, the age when parents are still
the best-in-the-world. I guess you could say he sucked
hatred with his momma's milk" Rockbiter sighed. "Where'd you
dig this from?" Asked Jane suspiciously. The guy was full of
info a first day with someone else. "we're in the same room"
answered Rockbiter, "he's pretty proud of his hatred to the
Borderworlds. Personally I've got no problem with you guys,
but I wouldn't like to be a Borderworlder if I knew I'm
going to be a cadet with him!" he turned and walked out.
"Thanks for the advice," murmured Jane. She walked outside
and we walked after her.

Three hours later, we walked inside the Recruit club for the
first time. There were three terminals there, a small bar
that served only soft drinks, a number of tables, surrounded
by chairs, and a flight simulator. A small watch-vid showed
us a demo flight where two Longbows and their escort of two
Hellcats were engaging a Heavy Cruiser, a Carrier and
immense numbers of Kilrathi fighters. They were all killed,
but not before shooting down both the Cruiser and the
Carrier. So, according to logic, the four Confed fighters
had won, leaving all surviving Kilrathi fighters stranded to
death in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. I wondered
where the designers picked up that battle to demonstrate the
sim's abilities. The demo changed and showed two Excaliburs
facing two of the newly introduced Wildcats. I left the
superior version of Hellcats to fight for their lives with
no crowd and checked the inside of the metal cube. The
simulator had places for up to four pilots. Thin metal walls
separated the pilots from one another. Each pilot had a
cabin shaped as a fighter's cockpit. The cabins had sticks,
throttle control panels, and all the buttons you need to
know if you want to be a flyer. I knew simulators cause dad
had one at home, a single-pilot Ace500 sim. Dad used to fly
it, and also taught my brother to fly with it. I sometimes
flew it too. Not too often though. Dad bought a sim that
contained high AI abilities to match dad's piloting skills.
I always hated losing. "Anyone in for a flight?" I asked. I
was pretty sure that after I finally mastered that sim,
getting the unimpressive record of winning three
best-of-five tournaments in the scores of 5-4, 5-3, 5-4, I
could beat anyone who's not mastered the Ace500 sim. We
split to two groups, Terry and Jane versus Jay and myself.
Romance truly gives you wings, eh? By then I already
gathered enough 'intelligence' to believe that Jay and I can
expect Terry and Jane to accompany us to double dates. We
chose a simulation of two 'Hellcat' medium fighters against
two 'Arrow' light fighters. Even though the Hellcats are
tougher than the Arrows, Jane and Terry will have a hard
time handling our superior speed and agility our Arrows
packed. Aside from its exceptionally high maneuverability,
the Arrow's name fitted the fighter well. Terry and I were
elected as wing commanders for different reasons. Jane
claimed she wants Terry to learn while Jay still had to
discover the gentleman type is passé. The lights
turned off and I caught the stick.

"Sunspots on my twelve" informed Jay. "Break formation and
engage!" I commanded. "Shadow is descending upon the
universe!" he replied. "Lioness goes hunting!" I smiled. A
moment later, my radio-comm called: "Lioness's going to take
a spear in her guts!". "You won't see tomorrow!" I roared as
I locked Jane as my target. "Oh come on! I hate easy
targets!" she giggled at me. "You bitch ready to meet your
maker?" I cried. Of course, radio taunts were something we
still had to learn properly. After all, during the Kilrathi
war, many a battle had ended in a victory after the alien
fighter pilots went berserk at the more creative human
taunts. They would go frenzy, thus making mistakes that
condemned them to hell. I taunted Jane in the Hellcat that
engaged me. She came on fast, her guns blasting fire. I made
a fast maneuver to the right, and a loop brought me right to
her tail. Wasting no time, I opened fire. Two Laser cannons
and two Ion cannons flashed constantly at Jane's
medium-fighter's shield. Jane maneuvered but I didn't let
go. I readied a heat-seeker missile. I maneuvered for a
lock, but Jane wouldn't show me her engines for time enough.
I switched to a Spiculum Image-Recognizing missile. In two
seconds the Imrec was locked. "You're going home in a box,
girl!" I roared and fired the missile. Jane released a
decoy, but the missile kept on hunting. The Speculum IR,
Imrec for short, was a 'smart' missile that not always went
fool after the fighter-shaped radiating decoys. Jane
maneuvered, breaking left sharply, and released another
decoy. This time, the missile left her and exploded on the
decoy. I was so excited that I forgot to turn off my
afterburners and lost the solid sit I had on her tail. Now
it was my turn to take a shot or two, but I quickly used a
slide maneuver to sidestep and caught her tail once again.
"quit poking me," she grumbled in frustration. I didn't give
it up this time. Jane shook off my missiles well, it seems,
as I fired them one after the other, leaving my hardpoints
almost empty. She released decoys in an amazing speed, and
tried to shake my presence off using any maneuver I could
expect. Alas, my last Imrec blew up on her Hellcat and
destroyed it. "you'll pay for that!" she said, insulted. The
comm was the only thing that kept working after you were
'killed'. "Sorry Jane," I said as I looked for a position to
lock a heat-seeker on Terry, "Nothing personal. You know
it's the business". "Yeah, I know," she answered, "And since
I'm roasted, it ain't my business. Well, fine. But remember,
next time I'm ready to make it my business". At that time,
Terry was busy shooting at Jay. "I could use a hand!" said
Jay. "I'm coming, give me damage report!" I replied. "I'm a
little toasted, no biggie!" said Jay. At that second, the
'Javelin' heat-seeker missile locked on Terry's
afterburners. "Die, scum!" I cried as I fired it. The
heat-seeker causes lots of damage, but is not too smart. If
it loses its lock, or misses the fighter, it would never
hit, and might even lock on another fighter, even a friendly
one. Terry maneuvered sharply and the missile missed him.
"You got what you're worth!" he chuckled. Few seconds later,
the missile alarm rang. Terry shot a missile at me. I
released a decoy, but the alarm kept on ringing. It had to
be an Imrec. These 'smart' missiles wouldn't go off easily.
I maneuvered right and it passed to my left. But the damn
missile wouldn't leave me. As the missile turned for a
second attempt, I released another decoy and this time it
did the work. The missile left me for the glowing object. 4
seconds later it exploded on it. "You're inconsistent!"
indicated Jay as he rained fire on Terry's Hellcat. I knew
we're going to win. The thrill of flight really flooded me
for the first-though-not-last time. But then, Terry quietly
maneuvered his fighter towards mine at a very high velocity.
He fired at me as we moved closer. He passed to my right and
I had to make a high-G break to avoid crashing into Jay. In
the next moment, Terry was galloping towards Jay, releasing
a missile. "I'm hit! Ejecting!" cried Jay. "Come on, Jay,"
taunted Terry, "take it like a man! Connie, it's just you
and me, baby!". Since Terry was busy with Jay till then, I
had an easy sit on his tail. Terry's fighter was a slightly
damaged as Jay's last salvo passed his force-shields and
burned some holes in the Hellcat's armor and my cannons were
already shooting him, weakening his shields. I had only one
missile, and I didn't want to waste it on a bad aim. I kept
on firing my guns, and he couldn't shake me. His shield went
down once again and a new hole was burning in his Hellcat's
back. Unburned fuel leaked from the new hole, giving Terry's
Hellcat bizarre blue stripes to toe behind. But then, he got
enough look at me to lock an Imrec. The Imrec didn't make
too much of a problem as it was fired from a bad angle, but
I had to break away. The proximity-fuse would blow the
missile even if it went against the decoy I left behind. I
had no desire to chance that. When I turned to face Terry,
he was far from me. He started making his way towards me. It
had to be one of the famous 'Bravery Challenges' dad told me
about. Two fighters move head to head while shooting. The
first one to break off gets a missile in his back. Funnily,
we learned that thing from the Kilrathi. Terry's fighter
advanced fast at me, and I cried, "I ain't breaking!". And
then, when we were merely 30 meters away from each other,
Terry fired a missile and broke away. I had six milliseconds
till my fighter shattered to fragments and orbital garbage.

Immediately after we exited the simulator I attacked Terry.
"Cheater!!" I cried, "You won unfairly!". "What?" Terry
looked surprised, "I had a superb aim so I fired! It was
your fault you lost". "So you're telling me this wasn't a
Bravery Challenge?" I asked. "Bravery Challenge?? What are
you talking about?" asked Terry. I suddenly recalled that
unlike me, Terry didn't have a legacy of pilots behind him.
I sat down and explained.  "So now you understand?" I
concluded.  Terry was quiet for a short time. "I think so!"
he said finally. "Jane and I won".  That statement left us
laughing for some time, and also made me come up with plans
about hiding venomous snakes in his bed. When we were
more-or-less reasonable again, I got enraged when I found
what the sim's watch-vid was showing. "So the broadcasts
weren't demos after all, eh?" asked Jay as he watched a
replay of our duel. "I guess not," I said and noted that
Terry had evaded a pretty close 'backstab' from Jay's Arrow.
"Hey Terry, where the hell did you learn to fly like that?"
asked Jane. After all, Terry hadn't had a father to teach
him how to use the darned- "I learned it from Ace500" said
Terry, "My dad bought me a tough sim to make me feel
incompetent for flying. Almost succeeded too. Lucky me, I
found a news-vid about that sim telling how tough it is. I
decided to master that thing. It took me more than a year
but finally I did. I can win six best-of-seven tournaments
in a row before exhausting my concentration". "Mastered?" I
asked, "six tournaments? What scores". "My worst one was the
third with 7-4" he said. I cut in his words, saying, "7-4
was your worst?". "Yeah, rest of them were all 7-1 or 7-0".
"Ok," I gave up, "you mastered the darned sim".  "Just like
I thought, a newbie" smiled Terry, "you should learn how to
takeoff before challenging me".
When the sudden eruption of laughter was over I gave up my
plans about snakes in his bed. He was to damn admirable to
be killed by a snake.

Chapter four
The following months passed rapidly. In the mornings we were
studying the basics of flight, as well as the history of
flight. At that particular field, Jane led the class, since
she knew heaps. After that, there were practical lessons in
the simulators. After that a few hours free and then sleep.
The instructors hanged a scoreboard each weekend. The usual
leaders were Titan, Jay, Terry and myself. Jane used to
embitter about being 11th overall. I told her that being
more obedient would raise her score. But telling Jane
'Spear' Oldziey to be obedient is like telling a lioness to
give up meat eating and invite a pack of zebras to a pool
party. She definitely had a future as a fighter pilot. She
was learning quickly, showing real talent and never repeated
a mistake.  But she was just not the kind of person that
would obey blindly as armies demand. Terry surprised
everyone. He seemed to be able to teach the instructors.
They showed him everything once, and he already did it
better. Jay and I proved that our qualifications for the
academy were not for naught. Both of us were good pilots and
quick learners. On the social side however, things didn't
look as bright. Competitiveness was very high and created
lots of frictions. Everyone found their friends and closed
from the others. Except for that, Titan has organized a
group of rookies that insisted on giving us a hard time.
Jane wanted to go and beat him, but Terry explained her
about the worthlessly of the act. After all, if she gets
into troubles, she might get jettisoned out of the academy.
Even though he was big and muscular, Terry didn't like to
get into unnecessary fights.

We were in the recruit's club, sitting at a table and
drinking tomato juice. Aside from his exceptional flying
skills, Terry had a talent for squeezing certain juices. He
added a bit of sugar and a certain spice that only grew dull
in Rampal. The juice was strictly superior to any other
tomato juice I've ever tasted, including moms. "It's three
months that we're stuck here, and we still haven't flown a
real fighter!" embittered Jane, "I've had enough of sims.
SSNW I tell you". "SS- what?" I asked. That sounded like the
way the ancient Americans called their submarines. Terry
smiled, "It's a Ceti phrase - Same Shit, New Week". "Like
hell it is," continued Jane, "I'd never be more ready and
qualified for flying! I want to fly!". Terry smiled at Jane.
"Oh no," warned Jane, "don't even start! I'm not in the mood
for another joke!". Terry sighed and said, "Come on Jane,
what makes you want to fly those miserable Thunderbolts so
much? It like flying a shuttle. Big, fat, and with a
graveyard as a return address". The Thunderbolt was a good
fighter, in means of firepower. It had six guns that could
cause heavy damage in few seconds. It was essential to the
survival of the heavy fighter since the Thunderbolt had
nothing to offer other than it's ordinary missile payload.
As for speed and agility, well, it could it's turn-rate was
reasonable for a heavy fighter, but speed... Thunderbolt was
a 'Flying Coffin' with its slow engines. "They took all
those cannons," my father once joked, "And attached engine
and cockpit to their back". The Flying Coffin- sorry, I
meant the Thunderbolt, was a pure gunship. "Heavy damage and
heavy movement" said my father. When the fighter's
unflattering statistics from the Kilrathi war were revealed,
as well as the horrific losses it was counted for in the
conflict, the fighter was declared obsolete. While most of
the fighters were scrapped and recycled for further use,
about a hundred were put in the academy, replacing the
virtually ancient Gladius as the Academy's training fighter.
Furthermore, the replacement included scrapping the Hornets
that were used for advanced trainings by the younger and
better Hellcat. After hearing dad's stories about the
pre-Kilrathi-war Gladius and Hornet types, I felt remarkably
thankful. Obviously I'd prefer studying with the
state-of-the-art Excaliburs and the SuperHellcat. While the
former was strictly unchallenged, the SuperHellcat (Actually
it was called Wildcat, but everybody called it SuperHellcat)
was a new design that loaded the Hellcat's general airframe
with better engines, superior guns and eight missile instead
of the Hellcat's six. But as mom's phrase says: "better one
dirty sock between your hands, than two clean socks upon the
tree". So the aging Thunderbolt was still better than the
antique Gladius and during the simulations we gathered a
pretty good idea about its capabilities. Terry had managed
to shoot down one of the instructors just few days before,
and I'd say luck was not the major factor in that victory.
As for the rest of the 'four desperados' as Instructor
Slicker dubbed our quad, we were all pretty good at it.
Actually, Jay showed immense abilities with the gunship's
terrifying firepower. While considering these, the speaker
suddenly made sizzling sound. We've turned our attentions
towards it and listened as Instructor Tony Ark, one of nicer
instructors, called, "All level two recruits, report to
briefing room two immediately". I hasted to finish my juice
and we ran towards the briefing room. We entered, quickly
taking sits. I felt eager to find out what's the briefing
about. They never briefed us at the evening. "Good evening"
said a serious voice I recognized as Colonel Sharp's voice.
Somehow, you can never find a space station that has no
Colonel Sharp. Murphy's law, I guess, or just cultural
conventions. The academy's commander marched towards the
briefing stand. We jumped to attention and saluted. It was
pretty weird to see 14 men and women doing the same motions
at the same time in a small room. "be seated," the Colonel
said, "Good. You're here for three months and your
training's advance at a very good rate. The staff decided
that you're ready to enter the real cockpit. Tomorrow
morning, you will fly real metal-and-plasma fighters.
Congratulations, and good luck! Dismissed". "Why did I open
my big mouth," moaned Jane, "I'm so excited that I won't
sleep all night. I'm not yet ready for flying the real
thing. I've got to practice more in the sim! I'm going to
blow-up tomorrow and probably take you guys and this whole
station with me!" she frowned and continued muttering in low
voice as we went past an instructor. Some people just can't
be satisfied.

"Control," I said, "this is Lioness, requesting clearance to
takeoff". "Ten-Four Lioness, you're cleared" the comm
channel's volume flickered as I got my desire approved. I
pushed the throttle to maximum. The Thunderbolt was, as due
for a heavy fighter, was slow and reacted sluggishly. I left
the flight deck behind me and entered formation with a pilot
callsigned "Flamethrower". The instructor was on the lead
and already turned his Thunderbolt towards the first
waypoint. I gently pushed the stick to the right and
followed him, keeping a short distance as I was taught.
Other wings joined my own. I felt so great. It was my
biggest day ever! Childhood dreams coming true, new dream
being born, all that stuff. I felt amazingly happy. The
instructor explained certain interesting points about the
Beetlejuice system, I noticed a short flash, like a
lightning, and to my great astonishment, a fighter colored
brown had appeared from seemingly nowhere. "What's the hell
is this?" I asked. The targeting computer gave me the
answer. The old system recognized 'That' as a Kilrathi
Shoklar type medium-fighter. I suddenly recalled what my
grandfather told about the appearance of these fighters.
"There were rumors," he said, "at the early stages of the
war, that the cats brought in some new type of stealthy
ships. I was just recalled from the reserve to active duty
when we met them at Brimstone. They were a real nasty
surprise. They faded invisible for some time before turning
visible again. Those cloaked fighter gave us a real hard
time. Lucky for us, their cloaking devices were chewing on
the gun-battery, so they had to decloak when the battery was
low, and they couldn't fire while cloaked. But Shoks were a
real nasty surprise. Wanna know how nasty? Ask the survivors
of TCS Tiger's Claw". Well, I just about to find out how
nasty the cloaked fighters were. Radio chatter erupted from
the 15 Thunderbolts, mainly cries in likes of, "what the
hell?" or "We're under attack!" or even, "I'm ejecting!".
Instructor Slicker's voice silenced the rumble with a stiff
"Cease all radio chatter!" command. A second and a half
later, control's voice interrupted and ordered, "All
Recruits, break formation and open fire. This is not a
drill!". I could hear her murmuring, "here goes nothing"
afterwards. "You heard them," said Flamethrower, "Let's
scorch some cats!". "Lioness goes hunting," I answered and
looked for the first target. I noted that the Shoklars
didn't meet with the Thunderbolts in face-to-face combats.
Instead they cloaked, came from the rear and decloaked in
surprise to cause high amounts of damage. I locked the
Shoklar as my target, turned to face it and- lost my lock as
the Kilrathi fighter cloaked. "Hang in there, kids," said a
stern voice in the comm, "help is on its way!". "Wise guys"
I thought as my flying coffin shook at a sudden burst of
fire. My ship's rear shield went down to 60 percents when
the Kilrathi suddenly backed off. I tried to figure what
ugly trick the cat is trying to pull. Missile alarm rang in
my ears and I released two decoys, kicking my fighter's nose
up as fast as the coffin could pull. The missile kept on
chasing me. I released four more decoys and also a salvo of
three Pilum FF missiles. The Pilum missile was a smart
missile that gained its lock only after it was fired. A
state-of-the-art targeting computer determined the types of
ships and their recognition codes and then locked the
missile on any nearby enemy. Hence the name: FF - identify
Friend or Foe missile. The missile fitted greatly with the
slow and heavy bombers, relieving them from the need to face
their enemies for missile lock. The FF's (Which was
sometimes deliberately mistaken for Fire and Forget) only
drawback was that the supreme guidance left little space for
explosives. While the missiles went away, I noticed my
decoys still haven't affected the missile that chased me.
Sweat wet my forehead and I gathered my heart is beating
faster than the Shoklar's speed with full afterburners. I
quickly looked back trying to see the chaser. The missile
came from my starboard aft, lower than my Thunderbolt was. I
quickly reckoned it's supposed route. As it drew closer, I
pushed the stick and rolled down and right. It did the
trick. The missile passed me from afar. Then the missile
turned again and locked itself on one of my comrades.  "I'm
going down," screamed a voice I recognized as Red-Flare. I
breathed deeply, and released a quick and inaccurate gunfire
salvo on a Kilrathi that passed me while chasing another of
my friends. His shields absorbed the damage but he noted me.
I let an Imrec loose against him but already knew it would
miss. The aim was too far to allow the missile to attempt a
second time had it missed, and the Kilrathi had relatively
plenty of time to release decoys and even cloak - excellent
against the Image-Recognizer. The Shoklar got a glimpse of
me and I had to evade a missile. To my relief, that missile
wasn't as smart as the first one and my first decoy did the
trick. I noted that the Shoklar evaded my missile but I had
no time to think as another missile was speeding towards me.
This one was another smart missile. I broke, releasing
decoys and twisting my fighter to its maximum turn-rate.
Alas, the missile kept on closing. I tried to see where it
is but couldn't. All I could hear is the Missile-Warning
crying helplessly in my ears. I broke right, lowering my
nose to attempt and evade a missile I couldn't see. Then, I
felt my fighter shakes gently. An immense explosion followed
the shake and I breathed heavily. "The turret saved me," I
thought, relieved. Some types of heavy fighters (usually the
types that made you understand exactly what 'Heavy' means)
were equipped with rear-turrets. These computer-controlled
guns were set to attack enemy ships, but occasionally they
chose enemy missiles as their targets and had a 50-50 chance
of success in taking down missiles from closer range. Not
for the first time I wondered why didn't they introduce the
turrets with missile-targeting systems. But it wasn't the
right time to worry. My comrades were falling, one by one,
and the radar showed more enemy red dots than the
blue-for-friendly dots. I used the interstellar comm
frequency to taunt, "Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty". The Kilrathi,
a definite feline race, never approved the use of 'Kitty'.
"Die, inferior ape" roared one of them. He charged me from
the front- the taunts did their job. The Shoklar's firepower
could never match the Thunderbolt's immense guns. I charged
him, firing my six guns in pretty accurate salvos. As he
rushed towards me, his guns shooting hurried salvos, I
noticed something bright passing close to my left. The
creature shot a dumb-fire at me! The dumb-fired missile is
an unguided missile with a heavy pack of explosives. It's
highly effective against capital-ships, as the slow and
heavy giants just can't evade the fast moving missile. If a
fighter is flying straight, more or less, you might be able
to nail the dumb-fire through. And that Kilrathi nearly
succeeded. I lost my concentration and broke to my left,
only to collide with a stray asteroid. My fighter was
completely knocked-down by the collision. I glanced at the
radar, noted mere four blue dots against about four red
ones. "So fast?" I thought. "This is Lioness," I murmured in
the comm, "I'm bailing out". I pulled the lever and the
ejector-pod was kicked out of the limp Thunderbolt. A
Shoklar drew closer on blew my fighter to splinters with a
quick salvo. Then, it turned towards my ejector-pod. I saw
its gun-barrels flashing and closed my eyes in desperation.


"End of simulation," Declared the computer in a synthetic
female tone. I took my helmet off and dried my forehead with
a towel. "Remain seated," said Instructor Ark. I withdrew
the towel to its suspender and leaned back for more comfort.
My back was contracted from the stress of the simulator. "I
must say I expected better than that," said instructor Ark,
"14 pilots went down in three minutes. You need to be much
better to survive a real battle! Can someone tell me how
many Shoklars were there". "Twelve," said Flamethrower.
"Ten," resisted Jay. "Twelve!" insisted Flamethrower. "Sir,"
that was Titan, "it's hard to determine since they kept on
cloaking in and out but I'd say no more than eight". "Titan
is correct," said Instructor Ark, "Shadow and Rockbiter
brought down one each, and Titan shot down two. After three
months, I think I deserve better results than 4-14. You're
lucky that our Thunderbolts have tutor-cabins installed in
them. Every recruit will fly with a level five ensign that
proved himself worthy enough. If necessary, the tutors can
take control over the fighter in seconds. You'll be escorted
by six Hellcats from the academy defense-fleet. Nonetheless,
I expect you to be ready. I also expect improvement. Do like
Lioness when you have FF missiles. Shoot some immediately!
It will give you an edge over the enemy that might enable a
reasonable attack run, as well as defending your friends.
Lioness's three-salvo saved Titan for time enough to get a
second kill and crippled one of the Shoklars so that
Rockbiter could finish off an easy kill. I know some of you
think 'what the hell do we need these missiles? We can't
choose the targets and the damage they make is not enough to
kill most medium fighters'. Well, let me tell you something.
They can be a great advantage when flying a bomber. They can
shake fighters off your back, or at least engage them and
free you to take down the cap-ships. Aside from that, Titan
also showed a good perception when he tailed the first
Shoklar and pinned its turning ability. Remember the second
chase principal! Don't allow the enemy to turn. It's one of
the most important issues in advanced battles. Understood?".
A choir of voices said "yes sir". "You probably already
forgot what I said," grumbled Instructor Ark, "Know this -
we're working hard to ensure each one of you, but true
situations had happened to recruits before. In fact, this
battle was a reconstruction of something that happened
during the war. The only difference is that the fifteen
students then fought well. Like now, the reinforcement
arrived when it was too late and the battle was over. But
instead of fighting four Shoklars, they found twelve
students mourning their three dead friends! You must get
better! They were flying the old Bar-Kit fighter, so you
can't excuse them for that. Hell, I'd bet most of you never
heard about the Bar-Kit". That was true. I've never heard
about that fighter. Later I discovered that it was reclined
to a training-fighter prior to the thirty-years-long
Kilrathi-war. "Sir," that was Jane, "A Kilrathi attack
doesn't seem too likely. After all, didn't they dismantle
all their warships after Colonel Blair dropped the bomb?".
"They dismantled all the warships aside the ones they need
for local-space defense," answered Instructor Slicker, her
voice as tough as ever, "Or were supposed to. So were the
Germans after the earth first world war and so were the
Reformist Factions after the Gallius IV Rebellion. Both the
Versai and the Xythra accords were later broken by surprise,
so I wouldn't count on that. More to that, Recruit Oldziey,
remember that the Kilrathi are divided by clans, and a
certain clan is not a guarantee to the others. Except for
that, what would you prefer? Black Lance pilots in stolen
Borderworlds fighters?". This struck silence between the
recruits. There was only one pilot who dared speaking his
mind. "Affirmative," said Jay, his voice strenuous and
choked by anger, "I'd love to take aim on those freaks! I've
seen a watch-vid taken from Tellamon".  During the conflict,
Black Lance fighters used some kind of Biotech weapon that
killed nearly everyone in Tellamon system. The highly
esteemed Admiral Jeffery Tolwin, who led those secret
provokers, used the incident (that was merely a weapon
experiment - words of a captive Black Lance pilot) to
demonstrate how the Borderworlders are "murderous" and
"maniacal". Though I never got to watch the few vids that
were shot in Tellamon during the few days of holocaust, I
could figure what Jay felt. The stories were horrid enough
to make me approve the fact that the vids were soon
censored. Instructor ark frowned and said, "Whatever the
situation is, Confed wants you ready at every stage!
Understood?". The "Yes sir" choir returned once again.
"Good. Now it's time to get going. Go catch your fighters.
Titan, Lioness, Comet, Shadow, Rockbiter, Flamethrower, Red
Flare and Night-Bat are wing commanders, the rest will be
directed to their wings" his voice softened and he said,
"Good luck, kids".

I climbed the ladder to my Thunderbolt's cockpit. I wore a
khaki flight overall that felt too common for such an
occasion. I ensured my white helmet on my head and gave a
gentle stroke to the "Lioness" that was written in blood-red
on the forehead. I checked the helmet's safeties and
attached the oxygen tube to it's front. "Oxygen checked," I
ensured the mechanic. I made the necessary checks and raised
my thumb to confirm that everything looks fine. The mech
raised his thumb and closed the transparent canopy,
murmuring "good luck". "Requesting radio check," said I.
"Black Bear here, ready to go," said my wingman. "Control
here," said a calm woman's voice, "reading you five-by-five,
Lioness". "Hey Lioness, I'm 5th Level Ensign Ely Starks,
callsign 'Sparky'. I'll be your tutor today. I've got very
good grades and was the third in my class to have the first
solo flight". "Highly evaluated," I answered, "nice to know
you Sparky". "And you, Lioness. Here's an advice. Think of
this flight as another clean simulation and you'll be just
fine. Your greatest enemy right now is your stress".
"Thanks, Sparky, I needed that. I think my heart's gonna
burst". "Happened to us all, Girl," answered a new voice.
"And that," said Sparky, "would be my awkwardly esteemed
classmate Michael West, who's earned the right for his
callsign. Wouldn't you agree, dear 'Intruder'?". "Yes, sir,
Sparks sir," laughed Intruder, "I'm here with Black Bear.
Sparky, have you noticed how many animals are in this class?
A lioness, a bear, a bat and some more. They've got a real
beaver going 'round here". "Oh shush," chuckled Sparky, "You
guys ready to start?". "I would love too," answered
Intruder. "Yeah," said Black Bear, his voice tensed, "Let's
go". "Control," I evaded answering, "Lioness requesting
takeoff clearance". I did it in the best 'official' tone I
could find. "Cleared for takeoff, Lioness and Black Bear.
Good luck". "Luck won't have anything to do with it," I
answered as I gently pushed the throttle forward, giving
power to the engines. My heart wanted to explode. I was
flying a real fighter! I pulled the stick, raising the
Thunderbolt's nose towards the blackness of space. "A bit
too high," said Sparky, "watch your tense levels, Lioness.
You're doing fine so far". I corrected the course and left
the space station behind me. "Black Bear," I said, "join to
formation". "Roger that," The second Thunderbolt closed on
my right, keeping a distance of 30 meters to my right and 10
meters behind me. I noted that Intruder has raised his thumb
in his cabin. Since Black Bear couldn't see his tutor, I
guessed the thumb was meant for me or Sparky or both. A
small white cross flashed in my radar, to show the first
waypoint. I turned my Thunderbolt towards the white cross
and settled it in front of me. "Good going Lioness," said
Sparky, "Remember, simply a spaceborne sim". I checked my
computer for the missile payload. I had three Pilum FFs,
three Imrecs and a cap-ship Torpedo. Instinctively, I
changed my gunfire mode to full-guns. This meant that all
six cannons fire when you press the trigger, for a heavier
damage but for shorter bursts. The batteries run out faster
when using full-guns mode and thus you must stop and allow
them to reload. "You're certainly cautious," said Sparky,
"My computer says you just changed mode to a full-guns and
did missile check. You're acting safe and cautious". "Tensed
would describe it better," I answered. I was still shaken
from the unexpected attack in the simulator. "I heard about
the sim. They do the same trick to every class. I guess it
measures your ability to keep functioning after a great deal
of fright and tension. I heard what you did there. Good job
with the FFs. That's why I asked for emergency reallocation
of FFs to the left hardpoint". "you did?" I asked. "Yeah, to
make you comfortable," Sparky snorted, "I see you're comfy
already. You're actually a new instructor infiltrating the
classes to watch for talents, aren't you? you're too darn
good to be a darn recruit". "I wish," I answered, "Just a
darn good recruit". Later I figured that he said that to
make me feel ensured with my skills. He succeeded. "All
recruits," said Instructor Ark, who was flying in the lead
wing, "Raise speed to 290 clicks and maintain course". I
pushed the throttle a bit forward and watched the
speedometer counting till it got to 290.  I looked right and
back to see how Black Bear was doing. He was still there,
maintaining the formation. "Black Bear, what's your status?"
I radioed. "Perfect," he answered, "You could eat your lunch
off this ship". Black Bear and I got along pretty well. He
wasn't prejudiced against the Borderworlders and was pretty
much a nice guy. So I radioed, "Black Bear, how're you
hanging there?". "I'm great. You wouldn't believe how
thrilled I am". "Trust me, I believe you. My suit's too
tight to hold my excitement!" I answered. "Who would have
believed," intruded Intruder, "a Lioness and a Bear getting
along! It's the end of days!". "Intruder," Sparky remarkably
emphasized, "Black Bear is certainly doing better than you
did. For that matter, you left your tutor heart-sick after
your first flight". "I did not! I evaded that crash!"
answered Intruder. "Yes, you have," chuckled Sparky, "by few
inches and a small shield-to-shield impact". "It wasn't my
fault," mumbled Black Bear's tutor, "That dumb pig got in my
way!". "Hey tutors?" Black Bear's voice sounded annoyed.
"Yeah kid?" answered Intruder. Black Bear snorted and said,
"GROW UP!!"

"First waypoint achieved," declared nav-computer, "proceed
to next waypoint". The synthesized female voice sent shivers
down my spine. I was obviously doing well, as my wing, sigma
wing, kept on being the second from the front. I checked on
Black Bear. He was still in the constant distance. I found
the little white cross and turned left and down to center it
in my front. It took six more minutes to achieve waypoint
two. It was just in the entrance to an asteroid field. I
hesitated, lowering speed and staying on alert. The
simulated asteroid had frustrated me. "All of them are too
small to cause more damage than a scratch in the paint,"
said Sparky, reading my thoughts. "How would you know?" I
asked, tension grinding down my nerves. "They sent an
asteroid crusher here about ten years ago, I heard, cause
one ensign sent his Hornet whirling into a medium sized
crawler. They had to scrape him off the quartz. After that,
they had to afford the huge cost and send in one of the
crushers. The largest asteroids here are the size of your
fist. Can do no real damage, Lioness, be calm". "If we get a
scratch, the mechs will murder me," I answered, "I'll be
calm if when we return you can still ask my ship 'mirror
mirror, on the wall'. Black Bear, here's some initiative
order for the record. Proceed with asteroid-field
maneuvers". "With pleasure," said Black Bear, "breaking
formation and shunting full power to evasive a-field
maneuvers". "Ten Four, Black Bear," I answered and then,
"Control, do you copy that?". "Control here, Lioness,
confirming a-field maneuvers by Sigma wing. Good call girl".
"Roger, control," I answered. For six minutes I evaded the
small rocks. Sparky was right. They were no bigger than my
own fist. After six minutes of maneuvering easily between
the slow-moving asteroids, I was ordered to return to base.
"Affirmative, control," I confirmed, "Sigma wing returning
to base". I maneuvered out of the asteroid field and turned
towards the academy. "Black Bear," I requested, "form on my
wing". Black Bear instantly replied with, "Ceasing maneuvers
and returning to formation, Lioness". "What's your status?"
I added. "You could still eat your lunch off this ship,"
said Intruder, "both o' ya kids are doing fine". "Yes,
mister West," I answered, letting my annoyed feeling speak,
"But I was asking Black Bear". "I'm ready to take a scratch
if it takes this creep off my back," chuckled Black Bear,
"You'd have no idea where do I find a good quartz to smear
on?". "Somewhere over the rainbow," said Sparky, "or at
least in another quadrant of this system". It took nine more
minutes and the academy was in front of me all great and
glorious. "Black Bear, clear for landing approach," I said
and watched as the other Thunderbolt slowed behind me.
"Control, this is Lioness, requesting clearance to land".
"Cleared for landing on flight deck three, Lioness," said
the technician and added, "You were great, kid. Well done".
"Thank you, control," I answered, cocky as I slowed down in
front of the flight deck that bore the giant shimmering 3.
"It was due to strong nerves," I added, "to fine teaching, a
good tutor, a good wingman and an anti-intruders
sanity-shield". "He's already signed in the USPU," said
Black Bear, "and one more flight with him would earn me the
right to do so". "USP- what?" asked Intruder. His tone told
me that he already had some wise-ass joke to reply with.
"USPU," said Black Bear, "your guild - United Sick People of
the Universe". "Though I heard SPEU - Sick People Everywhere
Unite - wants him," I answered, "industrial espionage and
stuff". Intruder said, "errrrr..." and his tone told me what
I needed to know - his mouth was flung open with surprise.
"Shut your mouth before you eat a fly," I warned. I could
actually hear him shut his mouth and then murmuring
something about 'underachieving wise-ass recruits'. I
directed my Thunderbolt into the flight deck, slowing it to
mere 40 clicks. Slowly, the heavy fighter entered the
'big-hole-in-the-wall'. I lowered the landing mounts,
watching carefully that the blunt pads won't touch the deck.
Then, I slowed to 5 clicks, and lowered my nose gently. The
Thunderbolt's front pad touched-down smoothly and then the
back mounts joined. I killed the engine and allowed myself a
short shriek of success. "Shhh, Lioness," Black Bear's
Thunderbolt was landing next to me, "You'll wake up Colonel
Sharp with such high volumes". "Nice landing, Black Bear," I
answered, "Ready to graduate?". "Thank you but no thank you.
I can't embarrass my first tutor by graduating before him,
no? By the way, you're a great wing commander. Don't let
anyone else claim it's not so. You helped me a bunch.
Thanks". Black Bear's smile was obvious through the radio
comm. The canopy was open and a mechanic looked at me
releasing my helmet. "Good work kid," he said, "She looks
perfect". "No probs," I smiled as I answered, remembering
that mechs are emotionally involved with their fighters. I
slowly climbed down the ladder, reluctant to finish my first
flight. I took a towel and dried my hair from perspiration I
haven't even noticed. I didn't look up to see the tutor's
cabin - unwritten academy rule claims you mustn't look at
the tutor unless he asks you too - to prevent embarrassing
encounters later.
I looked at Black Bear as he gave a short pat to his
Thunderbolt. I sniffed the air, emphasizing it on purpose
and then, "Hey Black Bear, this place looks clean enough.
Where's that lunch you promised?".

It was late in the evening, when I was called, alone, to
instructor Ark's office. I rushed there, thinking about the
good news I was probably about to receive. "Come in,"
instructor Ark's voice was strangely tough. I moved in the
office and saluted Instructors Ark and Slicker and Major
Pierce, the vice that was in charge of discipline. According
to their frowns, I could tell that no good news were
awaiting me. "It never gets easier," muttered Major Pierce.
He cleaned his throat and said, "Recruit Briggs, you have
been called here for a disciplinary hearing. Your grades
were good till now and you seem to fly well. Yet, you have
disobeyed several disciplines that were brought in for the
good order of the academy. The charges are the following:
You have insulted a tutor, using the following phrases," he
looked at some papers and said, "Sick people everywhere
unite, mister, shut your mouth before you eat a fly. More
than that you took the liberty to give an irrelevant command
of evasive maneuvers when there was no real need for them,
thus burning fuel and enlarging the chances of collisions.
Do you have anything you want to say?". I wanted to scream.
Insulting a tutor?? Intruder was making fun with us! And
where'd they dig that  'irrelevant command'?? It was an
asteroid field! The only wing that was close enough to be in
theoretical danger of collision was one of the three Hellcat
wings that escorted us. And they kept safe distance from us.
And he said my grades were good. I suddenly felt that it
doesn't matter what I say, they would still punish me. "Is
it because I'm a Borderworlder?" I asked myself. I bit my
lips trying to hold off a sudden wetness that crept into my
eyes. I fought back, reluctant to cry. No matter why they
did it, they won't get the pride of seeing me cry. "You were
asked a question, Briggs!" said Instructor Slicker, her
voice tougher than ever (which was a feat for itself). And
she called me Briggs, not Recruit Briggs, simply Briggs.
They were going to throw me out! I bit harder against my
lower lip, fighting off the tears and said, "No, ma'am!
Nothing to say!". My voice was toughened by a sudden burst
of anger- they were throwing me out for nothing! I did
nothing wrong! I had to- I had to see Instructor Ark
sighing. "Very well, Briggs," he said, again dropping my
low-but-proud rank, "I hoped there would be another way. You
have been charged with insults and misbehavior". "And,"
added Slicker, "with giving irrelevant commands, thus
wasting resources and endangering your comrades. For these
charges, and since you have nothing to counter them, we
resolve the following decisions". Major Pierce looked at me
and said, "You will return your uniform and any other
clothing to the laundry room. You will no longer get the
recruit's payment, nor any other of the bonuses that Confed
recruits get. You will be stripped from your ranks of 1st
Level Recruit. Congratulations, ensign Briggs!".

I needed a moment before I understood what he said. They
were playing tricks with my brains, and, I added in sudden
honesty, they did that well. Streaming with the hoax I said,
"Sirs, Ma'am, I accept the punishment and promise to do my
best to prevent repetition of this behavior". "You'd
better," smiled Instructor Ark, "we had a hard time finding
things to blame you for. You're a good kid, Ensign Briggs,
keep up the good work". "Oh," it was the first time I saw
Instructor Slicker smiles, "don't open your mouth. We still
have other recruits to trick. Very good work, Constance, you
remind me of myself when I was a cadet. Whad'ya know, you
might finish up like I did- here". I nodded in acceptance,
swearing never to be an instructor in the academy. And what
did she mean by 'remind me of myself'? This woman can't even
smile right. I took a second oath, promising to shoot my
head in the second I find myself being so rough and
unfriendly. "Dismissed, Ensign Briggs," said Major Pierce,
"but do us a favor". "Yes sir?" at that moment I would have
given my life for them. Major Pierce smiled slyly. "To keep
the impression, so that this trick doesn't fall clear, do
frown when you go out".

Chapter Five
Two more months passed by, filled by lots of flights,
simulated and real as one. I met several tutors in the real
flights, but mostly flown with Sparky in "The Rear Cabin".
The flights pushed aside most of the other classes, and, to
be frank, I was pretty grateful for it. I didn't join Confed
to learn about the Cumulous uprising and how it affected the
division between fighters and cap-ships. Who cares why did
they differ between the fat slow chunks and the fighters?
I'd settle for knowing that they did and then choosing the
cockpit as my next school-chair. Anyways, flying became a
routine. Good.

One day, as the four of us rested after a real flight,
something changed. The intercom suddenly boomed with
Instructor Slicker's voice: "Lioness, Spear, Dreamer and
Shadow, attend to briefing room three immediately!". We
waved Terry goodbye and ran to the briefing room. Dreamer
was already there. Not for the first time I wondered where
his mind was wandering. It's not that Dreamer was insane.
Not at all. Actually, he was ranked 7th among the class and
could have been attractive, had he remembered to nurture his
looks. But he was always daydreaming about mysterious
things. The callsign fit him well, as Jane once put it.
Instructor Slicker's voice cut the thread of my thoughts as
she said, "Ensigns, we have a transport ship enroute. The
captain is of importance and you will escort the ship with
the dignity she deserves. Clear?". "Yes ma'am!" we answered.
"Good!" she nodded, "Scramble to flight deck four. You have
to be at the Jump-buoy in eighteen minutes! Lioness and
Shadow are the wing commanders, gender division! Dismissed".
Since Instructor Slicker said "scramble" we ran as fast as
our legs could carry us. Scramble is codename for
surprise-air-situation for centuries. I grabbed my flight
gear, hurriedly wore it on and ran to the flight deck. Our
Thunderbolts were already 'hot' and I hurried into the one
that was mine. I climbed the ladder and let the canopy
close. "Radio check!" I requested. "Gender division sucks,"
hailed Jane, "Spear is ready for takeoff". "Control," said
another voice, "reading you loud and clear, Lioness". And
then something odd happened. The tutor didn't respond.
"Control, I didn't get tutor confirmation," I stated.
"Affirmative, Lioness," answered control, "Proceed". My
mouth flung open and only the loss of words stopped me from
shouting, "What do you mean 'Proceed'??". If they know my
tutor is not responding then I... don't have a tutor? The
meaning of this finally caught me. I was shocked. First Solo
flight!!! I know they always do that by surprise but they
had to do it now??? When I'm supposed to escort a 'captain
who is of importance'? To hell with them! I gathered the
last remnants of my dignity and I said, "Control, this is
Lioness. Requesting clearance to takeoff". "Cleared for
takeoff, Lioness" said control and I was on my way.

Alone in the cold reality of outer space. With no tutor to
save if I make a mistake. Just me and three other cadets. I
opened the comm channel and said, "everyone, status report".
Jay's voice revealed his excitement as he said,  "Shadow
here, all systems in the green". "I have only good dreams
here," Dreamer sounded truly happy. "Spear, I'm picture
perfect," said Jane and then in a typical manner she added,
"did my tutor get a cardio-arrest or am I just good enough
to fly solo?". "I know I'm good enough," I answered. "And
me," chuckled Jay, "but about you... I think it's the
cardio-arrest case". "Argh!" said Jane, "just you wait till
I catch you!". "Ok," I smiled to myself, "That would be
enough, children. Let us all behave now". There was a short
silence in which I checked the Nav-computer. We were almost
near the buoy and still had seven minutes. "Ok guys," said
Jay, "you know the drill. Let's do it slick". "Lioness," I
answered, "That's a ten-four. Let's show Confed that the
cadets can do the job". "Spear," added Jane, "we'll rip them
apart!". "Jane," I said, glancing awkwardly towards her
fighter, "We're not going into a battle you know". "Yeah,"
said Jane, "I know, but still... it sounds good, no?". I
always knew that Jane 'Spear' Oldziey is a bit crazy. Hence
the proof.
I spent a minute musing about that 'Captain of importance'.
Most probably, it was the descendant of a senator or
something of the same spirit. They were always arrogant,
usually not very capable as captains, and never treated
their ships well.
A giant spill, colored gray-purple-white cut my thoughts.
The computer revealed that this is Merchant-ship
Ticonderoga. I opened the comm, switched to interstellar
frequency and hailed, "Wing commander Lioness here, welcome
to Beetlejuice, Ticonderoga". "Ticonderoga here," replied a
confident female voice, "Enter escort pattern". "Roger,
Ticonderoga," I replied, "Entering escort pattern. What's
your status?". "Nobody's aimed straight yet," chuckled the
voice, "and yours, Lioness". I attempted to realize what had
just happened. A captain of a Merchant-ship requests Status
report from a Confed fighter? Odd. But, since the senator's
daughter, or whatever that captain was, was of importance, I
replied, "This den is shining". "Lioness," the captain
wondered as we drew nearer to the academy, "where'd you dig
out that callsign?". "I was inspired by another callsign," I
evaded. If this VIC (As for Very Important Captain or Very
Inconsiderate Commander) shares the same prejudice with
Titan, it might arise some inconveniences. "What callsign
would that be?" chuckled the VIC, "Panther?". "Yes..." I
said, uncomfortable. "I heard it's available now," chuckled
the VIC, "Why didn't you use it for yourself?". "Captain,"
my uncomfortable feeling was pushed aside by the regular
admiration, "I wouldn't dare degrading that callsign on such
an unworthy woman as myself". "Oh?" the captain sounded
amused, "and who is a worthy woman?". "As far as I'm
concerned, Colonel Tamara Farnsworth was the only one" I
concluded. "Demoted, eh?" the captain murmured, "Whatever.
Take us home Lioness".

Four minutes later, we watched Ticonderoga landing and then
laded ourselves, at flight deck 4. I opened the canopy,
climbed down the ladder and got a bucket full of cold water
splashed to my face. To my sides, my wingmates got the same
treatment, as Confed Academy tradition demands. All the rest
of the cadets were there, cheering. Well, most of them were
cheering. Titan stood aside with a frowning expression. I
dismissed his face from my mind as I turned to watch the
Ticonderoga. It was clean and shiny. From the way it
looked, I could gather that I could expect worse treatment
by a captain "of importance". Speaking of the which, a small
door opened and a woman strode down elegantly. A small icon
on her chest stripe told me that she was the captain of
importance. She walked towards me and I expected a 'dis', as
most stories say those aristo-brats give. "I suppose it was
your first solo, Lioness?" she gestured towards my soaked
flight-overall. "Yes captain," I answered, trying to figure
why does she look familiar. "For you, its Colonel," she
smiled and I finally figured who I'm looking at, "Colonel
Tamara Farnsworth". For a second I thought I was about to
faint. My heroine! Here! Talking to ME! Five years older
than my most up-to-date vid of hers, her black hair streaked
with small bits of silver, but still... Panther! She smiled
at me. "I didn't think you recruits are old enough to
remember me," she mentioned. I suddenly recalled one of
mom's favorite phrases: "dignity is more important than a
bucket-full of steaks". I stretched myself to my
unimpressive 176 CMs of height, stood at attention and found
my formal manner again, "Commander, cadet Connie D. Briggs,
reports!". "Nice," she chuckled, "and I guess you'll give me
your last pair of shoelaces if I asked for them, eh?". I
blinked in bafflement.  Was she joking? I'd steal someone's
last pair of shoelaces if she'd ask me. Panther gave an
inspecting glance at the others. She snorted at Night Bat,
indicating a small pulp on his sleeve. He hasted to remove
it but she already turned her attention to others. She
stopped when she came to look at Dreamer. She sighed as if
having a really emotional flashback. "Where were you when I
was seventeen?" she sighed, "or thirty for that matter?".
Dreamer blinked in surprise. "I..." he muttered, "I guess I
wasn't born yet". 'How rude' I thought. But it seemed to
amuse Panther. She chuckled and said, "Scored one for the
good guys". "What??" I asked. "Scored one for the good
guys," she chuckled again, "I used to say that when I was
dropping cats out of the skies". I was about to ask more but
Major Tagiashi from the academy security team appeared
behind me suddenly and rushed to greet Panther. "Captain
Farnsworth," he said, "It's a great honor. I understand that
you were supposed to arrive in two days". "The transport
came in early and I was told that the ammo gets in on
another ship. So here I am," Panther smiled at me. I
suddenly had a great desire to know what her ship brought
in. the frigate-class Ticonderoga could probably bring in
six fighters or loads of food or tons of fuel. But then
again, no hamburger needs ammo, nor does a gas-pump. She had
brought in some fighters, I reckoned. I would have asked but
Major Tagiashi asked to show her to Colonel Sharp's
quarters. "Yes, surely Major," she answered. She turned her
head back and said "I'll see you around Connie D. Briggs.
Keep you fangs sharp".

I sat in the Ensigns' Club and felt dazzled. No. Dazzled
wouldn't fit to describe what I felt. The excitement of
meeting my heroine in person, especially in such surprising
manner, and certainly during my FIRST SOLO FLIGHT! I felt
unrealistic and dreamy. I felt as if a ten-pound hammer has
collided with my head in light speed. My mind kept focusing
on the unexpected rendezvous. I hardly noticed how Jay, Jane
and Terry glanced at me. "She looks," chuckled Terry, "as if
god himself popped up on her". Jane punched his back
forcefully. "Shush!" she said, "that's what she is for her,
you big dummy!". Terry opened his mouth to apologize but I
said, "That's sort of what she is for me. I worship her". I
sighed. "You know," I added, "I'd give anything to be like
her". "Well," said Jay, his tone encouraging, "you have
almost a similar hair. That's a start, no?". Laughter from
behind us made us turn. Rockbiter, Flamethrower, Red Flare,
Night Bat and Titan occupied the table behind us. "What's so
funny?" asked Jane, suspicious. Having passed these last
months with that group, we already knew that they didn't
laugh just cause the universe seemed a funny place. "I
said," answered Titan in an arrogant tone, "that it's a
start for two treacherous bitches". I was about to answer
sharply but I was pre-dated. A ballistic cup hit Titan's
forehead with a loud hollow 'clonk'. "Lucky for you," said
Jane, "I emptied it earlier. And it's plastic! Consider
yourself lucky, midget!". Titan seemed to freeze. After
perhaps ten seconds, he suddenly lodged forward. Rockbiter
and Flamethrower were quick enough to catch him. As they
struggled to pull him back to his sit, he cried, "I'll rip
you all to shreds!".  Night Bat, usually a silent guy, said,
"Forget it! They're not worth it! Don't give them the
pleasure of getting yourself kicked out of the academy!".
Titan pointed a finger at me and snarled, "I'm not done with
you yet, bitch!". Suddenly, something inside me broke. For
months this guy lead a bunch of guys to bully me. I've
suffered quietly, knowing that I'd be better not to riposte.
But after months of this unprovoked harassment, I finally
had it. "Like we've never heard that before!" I cried,
"Think you can do me in, dog? Come on then! I hate easy
targets! Ain't done with me yet, dog? Fine! My family's
heard that before! We heard that in Helespont and Axius! We
heard it from the Cats in Brimstone and Rostov! My uncle
heard it from the TCS Emerald and my father heard that from
the Middlesboro! It would take more than a little whining
puddle such as you to scare me!". Titan suddenly froze. He
collapsed into his sit and sagged there. His eyes turned
blank and his skin paled into bright white. I wasn't sure
what trigger I have fused but it was obviously a big one.
Red Flare glared at me and there was impending hatred in her
eyes. "You made a deadly mistake, Lioness! Go and join your
friends, the Cats!". That was one hell of an insult,
accusing me of being pro-Kilrathi, but some inner-sense, the
wiser-though-irritating sub-consciousness, told me that now
is a good time to retreat. I signaled my friends and then
turned and went out. As I exited, I could feel Red Flare's
enraged glare piercing my back.


Chapter six
"Lioness to briefing room two, immediately!" the call shook
me. I was ready to finish this exhausting day. I felt I had
too much for one day. Actually, a first solo, meeting with
Panther and such an epic clash with Titan was more than
enough excitement for a month. "What do you want now?" I
murmured at the speaker. Still, I ran to the briefing room.
I had no intention of crossing Instructor Slicker. I
couldn't possibly forget the time when Jane told her she
could lower her nose and get down from her Olympus. Slicker
got so pissed off that Jane had to do three consecutive days
in night-watch alertness. Obviously, an hour and a half of
sleep per night was far too less than Jane could possibly
withstand and finally she collapsed. Instructor Ark was kind
enough to give her a day off and Jane slept 19 hours in a
long black sleep of the dead. Of course, she never dared
crossing Instructor Slicker again. The door stopped my
racing legs as well as my racing mind and I entered
hesitantly. It's not exactly conventional to summon a cadet
at such hours and that made me worried. I feared that I was
going to get punished for the incident with Titan. "I see
she's here," said Colonel Sharp's tough voice, "I'll leave
you two alone". I stretched myself and saluted. Colonel
sharp just went past me, leaving me alone in the same room
with Colonel- sorry, I meant, Captain- Tamara 'Panther'
Farnsworth. My heart started racing. "At ease, Lioness" said
Panther. I complied and saw that she was studying a computer
terminal. "I see that your grades are good," she said, "and
your advancement rate is high. You show good catch of the
battle skills, too. Very nice". "Thank you, Ma'am," I said,
unsure how to react. My heroine was commending me! "You
could call me Panther," a smile danced at the tips of her
mouth, "we're not in a formal meeting and I'm not one of
those polished-up admirals, ok?". "S... su... sure" I
mumbled. I felt ready to blast. Panther! My heroine!
Treating me as equal! I was baffled. "Have a sit, Lioness"
she pointed at a chair. I sat down, which was good cause I
wasn't sure how long will my tired legs bear my excited
body. "You remember me," she said. "Yes," I nodded, "after
all, you are one of the biggest Kilrathi war heroes". "Which
certainly explains why nobody else does," chuckled Panther,
"don't worry about that. I don't really mind being
forgotten. Fame could be a real pain in the ass, mind you. I
gathered that being repressed from the collective human
memory is not such a big loss". "Repressed?" I asked. "Of
course," Panther shrugged, "after the whole conflict thing
went down and Admiral Tolwin roped his own neck, everybody
tried to forget that. Think about it. It was one of Confed's
lowest points. And trust me, you'd rather not know all the
stuff that is still classified. Better keep these skeletons
in the closet, see? But people repressed it. Oh, yes, after
I stood on the counter and told the council all I saw in
Tellamon and underneath the bloody shadow of the TCS
Vesuvius, they thanked me, gave me another medal and my
beautiful Ticonderoga and then locked all their memories of
me in a box. Only fliers like Colonel Sharp still remember
Panther. They did right about the same to my old friend Jake
Manley," she stopped and shook her head. "Hawk," I observed,
just to show that I don't give a penny about collective
memory. "Hawk," she agreed, "I reckon you have a lineage of
pilots behind you?". I nodded. "Thought so," said Panther,
"come to think about it, I once knew a pilot named Briggs.
Lucius I think". "My granddad," I answered, "you knew him?".
"Well," Panther smiled, "it was perhaps thirty-some years
ago. I ran away from home to chase my passion- no, not
flight. He was a rouge flier and actually resembled that
Dreamer guy pretty much. He taught me to fly but it didn't
work out. One day I was left all alone with no home to go
back to. I decided to contribute to the war and enlisted.
When I finished the course, I was posted in TCS Amethyst.
When the Cats brought Amethyst down, I had managed to get
away in a half-broken Phantom. But I had no carrier to
return to. When my fuel ran out, I started emitting a
distress beacon and hope that someone would find me alive
rather than being stranded to death. After few hours, as my
air-supply was already wearing out, I was picked up by TCS
Ironfist. The same Ironfist-" she smiled and stopped. "That
my granddad was posted in" I continued. "Sure as hell,"
agreed Panther, "I remember the first I met him. I knew that
a pilot named 'Shriek' was leading the killboard but... I
was twenty-two by then and certainly didn't expect to meet a
fifty year old crone. You should have seen him then. Your
granddad was one helluva flier, crone or not. The golden
star he got was just. No. it was the least Confed could do.
You know, I wonder if you have the same skills. Care to
try?". "What?" I didn't quite understand. "A simulated
battle, Lioness," she said, "not you against me. That
wouldn't be fair, I think. What say... You and I against the
rest of your class". "Well..." I tried to calm my heart,
"I'd be honored". She nodded and then leaned towards the
microphone. "All 2nd level ensigns to briefing room two
immediately!". Three minutes later, all fourteen recruits
stood 'ten-hut' in front of her. She told them of the
simulation ahead. "To even the odds, your thirteen
Thunderbolts would be with reduced speed, weakened turn-rate
and without the rear turret. Lioness and myself would flying
Banshee fighters. Understood?". The 'yes ma'am' choir was
weak. Titan was smart enough not to cross Panther but he
certainly had objections. "You don't stand a chance," he
snorted, "take two more pilots for your side". Panther
snorted back and said, "We'll see, kid, we'll see".

Banshee is not a confederation fighter. It is the standard
Borderworlds light fighter. It is agile and swift. Yet the
four laser cannons it sports are not exactly a heavy
firepower and the crystal-like armor that allowed the ship's
maneuverability also allowed to rip it to shreds pretty
quickly. Still the excellent maneuverability allowed the
Banshee to evade most ships and it was certainly the best
when it comes to a quick hit-and-run fare. I remember that
dad once told me that the Banshee is a great all-around
ship. "You can't go wrong unless you try to take down a
Cap-ship," he said. That, of course was reason why Panther
removed the Thunderbolts' rear turrets. The computer
controlled Mass-drivers would have butchered the Banshee in
seconds had the pilot been suicidal enough to sit on the
flying-coffin's tail. I took my seat and put my helmet on.
"Comm check?" I said. "Ok lioness," Panther's voice rang in
my ears, "the trick when you're greatly outnumbered is take
them down as fast as you can. Don't be cheap on your
missiles! If you have a fair aim, don't think twice.
Understood?". "Ten-four," I confirmed as the simulation
began and I was thrown into the virtual cockpit of a
banshee. I hurriedly checked my load. 8 Imrecs! I felt
fondness towards the image-recognizer. If to quote Jane:
'Teach it how to cook and I'll marry it'". "There are some
bad guys," said Panther, "Break formation and open fire".
"Roger, Lioness goes hunting!" I answered. I pushed the
throttle to maximum. "Eat this bitch!" Red Flare's cold
voice rang in my ears, preceding a missile warning alarm. I
released a decoy while breaking left. The missile lost its
lock and I hasted to maneuver towards Red Flare's starboard.
Meanwhile I heard Flamethrower taunting Panther using the
words Lowlife Borderworlder. I heard her grunt back before
she said, "Gonna kick me some Confed butts".  I got at Red
Flare's starboard and caught a position for a missile lock.
Only then I realized how important could maneuverability be.
While Red Flare's Thunderbolt was desperately trying to turn
at me, I could have easily maneuver and shoot my Imrec from
point blank. Red Flare has no chance. "Scored one for the
good guys," I called, exercising my memory. Three seconds
later, Panther chuckled, "Nice. I already got three. What's
your status?". "I'm fine," I answered, "And ready to do them
damage!". "Good going," she answered. The missile alarm rang
and I had to dodge two Imrecs. "Pretty, kitten," taunted
Terry, "But I ain't finished". "Let's see what you've got!"
I answered, "Your Comet is about to turn to meteorite!". I
turned to face him. He was flying low speed towards me.
"Bravery Challenge?" he offered, his voice both offering and
taunting. The Thunderbolt, you may recall, is a gunship, and
the Banshee's firepower couldn't, at any rate, compete with
it. I had nothing to gain from such a suicidal act. I
suddenly came up with a cunning plan. "I hate easy targets,"
I said, "You're on!". I activated my afterburners, kicking
my fighter to its maximal speed. As I opened fire, I fixed
my eyes on the shield-meter. The front shield was rapidly
devoured by Terry's superior firepower. When it fell beneath
the twenty percent line, I released an Imrec and broke away.
Terry tried to stir out of the missile's course but the
missile's speed out-maneuvered the crippled Thunderbolt. The
Imrec blew Terry's Thunderbolt to fragments. "Ten out of ten
in Connie's scale of pain!" I cried in sheer joy. I looked
for a target and found Night Bat who was busy in attempts to
shake Panther off his back. And not successfully, I'd say. I
took the aim and fired a short burst of lasers. "This is
Night Bat, I'm ejecting!" he cried. "This is called a clean
shot!" I said. "This is called a stolen kill," answered
Panther, "watch your nine!". I hasted and turned left,
meeting Jay's Thunderbolt in my sights. By then, four pilots
survived to oppose us. Jay, Dreamer, Black Bear and Titan.
"You're not bad, Connie," taunted Jay, "not bad at all! But
now it's time you meet a real pilot!". "Don't make me
laugh," I answered, "You're going home in a box, buddy!".
"Damn it!" I heard Dreamer cry, "I'm going down". "Three
against two!" I told Jay, "What now?". "Now it's time to
die!" answered Jay and he was upon me, firing three Imrecs
in one time. I released half a ton of decoys, shaking two of
the three. The third one was overzealous against my fighter.
Noting that my decoy supply is growing dull, I decided to do
the 'Chase the missile' maneuver. Doing the CtM maneuver
when you still hold some decoys is almost madness. The idea
is to try and evade the missile, and practically chase it,
until it runs out of fuel. Obviously we were taught the
principles of the maneuver but I've never had any real
practice in it. Yet, I turned towards the missile. As it
came close I made a sudden motion down and left, letting it
pass above me. Instantly I turned again and caught sight of
it again. The missile turned again and once again I readied
myself. At the last instant I made another turn and the
missile missed me again. I turned right in time to see it
auto-destructs when it ran out of fuel. "How nice," taunted
Jay and I noticed that shots are licking my rear shield. I
broke sharply, made a loop and had him in a good sight for a
missile. Not thinking twice, I fired an Imrec. "Say
goodnight honey!" I taunted. Jay released a decoy and
tormented his Thunderbolt to its maximum turning capability.
Somehow, the missile missed. "Is that the best you can do?"
he sneered, "toothless lioness!". 'If you want it that way,'
I thought, 'let's see what you can do against this". I chose
three missiles at one time. I locked them from not quite the
best angle but I thought, 'so what?'. "Have you ever heard
of the three amigos?" I asked as I launched them. six
seconds later, Jay was transformed into molecules of virtual
dust. Then, to my astonishment, I heard Panther scream, "I'm
ejecting". I checked and figured I was left one-on-one with
Titan. 'At least she dropped Black Bear' I thought. "One's
gone," chuckled Titan. "There's another one here," I
replied, "and she's going to break you to pieces!". "So you
Borderworld bitch think you want a piece of the man?" he
taunted, maneuvering slowly in attempt to get me in his
sights. I broke and screamed, "Prepare to die!". "You're
nothing but gutter-dog Borderworlder" he replied, "say, have
you ever heard of Seether? He is told to be the late
commander of the Black Lance forces. Killed lots of
Borderworld rats in his time". Titan spoke on one of the
main culprits in the conflict as if talking about a bug
exterminator. I was almost shocked. Such thing could do hell
to his psychological evaluation even when said in a
simulated battle. Almost speechless, I replied with the
first thing that came to my mind. "Hey Titan!" I cried,
turning to intercept his rear, "have you ever heard of Jacob
Manley? They called him Hawk and he used to drop lots of
hellcat punks like your dad during that conflict!". Saying
something like that was dangerous. Both on the count of
getting Titan over the edge and getting real troubles with
the staff. I usually try to censor my tongue to consented
taunts but I felt I've had enough. I fired my last two
Imrecs and watched them close on Titan's thunderbolt. Titan
was maybe half a click away and though he wasted four
decoys, one of my missiles was too determined and went off
few meters from the thunderbolt. "Oh it hurts!" I cried,
enjoying the looks of Titan's fighter tumbling helplessly.
"Gonna kick me some Confed butt" I taunted as I closed. I
wanted to enjoy that situation to it maximum. I had Titan in
my sights and I slowed to almost a halt. "Eject," I taunted,
"eject you hellcat punk or be destroyed like the rest of the
Black Lance were". Thinking back, I probably had been wiser
if I didn't do that but... I enjoyed the feeling of
returning Titan a bit of pain. "What'll become of you,
Midget?" I asked, "all but competent, the mighty Titan falls
to the hands of the Borderworlders, who in turn treat him as
they treat each low-life racist as you... You wrought your
last trick for us, Midget, and you're going down!". Then, I
fired a short burst from the Banshee's four laser cannons,
ending the battle. Dad always said the pilots would rather
go out in a big bang.

"And I wonder," I heard Colonel Sharp's voice, "thirteen
pilots versus two and this is how it goes? I'm so very
disappointed". "It's good they don't have to fight the
cats," said Panther, "they have to learn how to use crippled
ships more efficiently and certainly they must learn how to
work in teams. God! I wish the cats would have tried to take
us that way! Taking turns? Colonel, what are you teaching
them here? Shuttle flying?". "Or maybe they don't learn too
well," offered Colonel Sharp in reply, "tomorrow, right
after breakfast... no... better before breakfast you are all
here for debriefing. dismissed". I rose but I heard Panther
says, "not you, Lioness". I turned towards her. "If you
don't mind staying here a bit more," she suggested. "Sure,"
I said, denying sleep for my heroine with no regret. "You
had a good flight," she said, "but you had some mistakes..."
she reran the simulation footage, showing me, teaching me,
giving me good advices and explaining me about certain
maneuvers. It was well into the late hours of night- maybe
well into the early hours of a new day- when we finished the
lesson. "I'm out of here by tomorrow noon," she said, "I'll
see you one day, Connie D. Briggs". Out of an unexplained
impulse I hugged her and felt tears in my eyes. "Thank you
for everything," I whispered, tears choking my throat. "For
you, always," she smiled, "one more lesson I just figured
that you taught me is never forget where one comes from.
I'll see you when I'll see you, Lioness". Captain Tamara
'Panther' Farnsworth left the room.

It was the next noon when I was called for a disciplinary
hearing. I was told to wait outside Major Pierce's office.
As I waited, I heard Instructor Slicker's voice rising as
she said, "I don't give a damn worth about what happened in
the conflict! The Borderworlds are allies to the
confederation, as they have always been! You would accept
it, Ensign, or you would be kicked out of here now!". I
could figure the muffled answer but I realized that it was
Titan in there. Few minutes later he stepped out and Major
Pierce signaled me to come in. Instructors Ark and Slicker
were seated there with him. "Sit, ensign," he told me. I
seated myself. "You know why you are here," that wasn't a
question. I nodded and said, "Yes sir. I used an
unacceptable language and pronouns when I was taunting Titan
in the simulator". I saw no reason to act stupid on that
count. "Well," Slicker relaxed in her seat, "at least we
don't have to go through that step again. Why did you use
such language?". At that moment, I could have used to racist
acts of Titan as a shield and they'd probably let it go like
that. But then, it would also be untrue to use it that way.
I straightened my back and said, "Titan harasses me for a
long time and I felt that it was time I paid him back. I got
carried away with my retaliation". "You touched Titan's
sorest spots," said Instructor Ark. "I won't deny that," I
replied, "and won't deny that I did it on purpose". I saw
that they were readying an onslaught of pep talking for me
so I hastened to say, "I know I've been wrong, and I know
it's unacceptable. I do believe that I will improve my
behavior in the future". Slicker exhaled in surprise. "She's
clever," she murmured and then she smiled, "Ok Lioness,
we're going to make sure this doesn't happen again. But in
the meantime, I did want to remind you that your flight last
night was very efficient and that you have indeed impressed
me. Ah... I remember when I did something much of the likes
to Instructor Shapolov in my days here. Did I tell you that
you remind me of myself". I did best to keep my face clear
of emotions. The whole academy must now know that everyone,
including Constance Diana "Lioness" Briggs, hate instructor
Slicker. Why does she keep on thinking that I want to be
like her? Being like Slicker! Gosh! I'd rather kill myself!
I guessed I could find a way to crash-land next time I take
a real flight.

Chapter Six
Few months passed quickly. I mastered the Thunderbolt (as
much as one can master a retired flying coffin). While
Terry, Titan and myself continued to lead the scoring
boards, Jane caught hold of herself and jumped from the 11th
place to the distinguished 6th. She started claiming that
soon she takes over the first place as "Rightfully should
be". Titan and his group drew away from us, into what Jay
dubbed as "Safe-distance hostility". I must admit that I
didn't really miss their company. And then we advanced to
5th level Ensign Status and began the Advanced Combat
Training phase. And that's when we were taken by surprise.
The AC-training was supposed to introduce us to the Hellcat
medium fighter. However, we were surprised to discover that
the class was assigned two Wildcat (Super Hellcat) fighters.
The two advanced medium fighters were rotationally in the
hands of the four class leaders. While the Hellcat's speed
and agility proved refreshing after the heavy Thunderbolt, I
felt that I was falling in love with the Wildcats. The
multi-task fighters were first introduced in the final
stages of the Kilrathi war. Technological breakthroughs in
various fields provided Confed with the Excalibur heavy
fighter. The Excalibur's size, guns and missile payload
marked it as a heavy fighter. However, its speed and agility
could match and sometimes even outmatch medium fighters. It
was a ballerina in an elephant costume. Also, the Excalibur
introduced a new auto-tracking guns system that improved its
accuracy beyond any standard. While most fighters were using
the ITTS (Identify Target's Track and Speed) to calculate
where the target will be when the shots get to it, the
Excalibur's guns followed the ITTS on their own, easing on
the pilot. The Excalibur's success drove Confed into the
multi-tasker area. After the Kilrathi war finally ended,
Confed's vast resources were invested in that particular
area. This brought the Bearcat light fighter - a fighter
that was incredibly efficient but was manufactured in small
numbers due to high costs. Later, the Wildcats were designed
and quickly everyone was talking about the SuperHellcats as
the next big thing. The Wildcat was designed by the basic
airframe of the dedicated Hellcat. This doesn't mean it was
exactly the same appearance. The Wildcat was a little bigger
then its predecessor. The two Ion and two Particle beam guns
were replaced by two Tachyon beams and two Mass drivers. The
gun batteries were replaced with enhanced freeze-radiators
that allowed longer barrages and faster battery reload rate.
The power plant was also replaced, throwing the Hellcat's
respectable speed and agility to the junk yard - the Wildcat
had the maneuverability of an agile light fighter. Also the
new power plant was based on anti-matter fusion - the
fighter could fly light years without refueling. It had the
auto-tracking guns system too. Advances in decoy technology
allowed the Wildcat to carry 6 decoys more than the Hellcat
and still to have room enough for another missile in its
double hardpoint mount. But certainly, the thing I liked the
most was the cloaking device. The cloaking device broke
light-rays around the ship - making it practically
invisible. Also, it masked the radar emissions that the ship
created - making it radar stealthy two. The device did have
one drawback - it drained lots of energy from the power
plant, negating the possibility of shooting while cloaked.
The Wildcat also sported a broad-band RADINT system for
locating, intercepting and immediately decoding enemy comm
chatter. During the training we used it to intercept comm
transitions between the academy control and our instructors.
It was not necessarily legal but... if to quote Jane - "if
they don't catch you, it didn't happen". It was during a
grouped-attack drill when I caught the transmission. "What's
this?" said instructor Ark, "control, I'm reading an
unauthorized jump into the system". "Got it, Slowbo,"
answered control. Someone must have left the comm channel
open because I heard a male voice saying, "get me ID on this
vessel, now!". There was a short pulse of static noise and
then, "this is CBS-13 Galathea to Confed control, we are in
need of assistance". "Get me confirmation on this ID!" said
the male voice, and then, "CBS-13, you are intruding a
restricted-flight space. Confirm identification and state
your business". "This is Commercial Broadcasting Ship
Galathea," the voice was stressed, "Our daily registration
is Charlie, Alpha, Zulu, Uniform, Five, Zero, Nine Dash
Romeo Tango Uniform Four One Seven. We are under attack by
pirate forces! We are in need of immediate assistance". "The
old damsel in distress trick?" I wondered. "Galathea,"
control replied, "we have verified your ID. We are sending a
contingent of fighters to your aid.  ETA: 15 minutes".
"You've got a whole bunch of fighters very near," replied
the Galathea, "Can't you send them in?". "Ahh," control
hesitated, "Negative, Galathea. These are cadets.  Our
contingent will be there in 14 minutes. Can you estimate the
enemy force's strength?". "We won't last 14 minutes!" the
voice from Galathea screamed, "There are about four fighters
and a damned frigate here! Send in the cadets or we've had
it!". "Ahh," control hesitated again but then the male voice
interrupted again, "Roger, Galathea, we're sending them in.
ETA: 4 minutes". "We have blue missiles!" interfered
instructor Slicker, "The pirates are probably armed to their
teeth! I strongly advise that we-". "Missiles or not,
Instructor, you've got your orders!" answered the voice.
"Attention all cadets," said control, "change course to 045
and proceed with best speed. This is not a drill!". "You've
heard her," said Titan from the second Wildcat, "We don't
need to wait for an explanation". "Acknowledged," I said,
"full burn, Titan, and engage at will". Our faster Wildcats
left the Hellcats behind as we hastened to the aid of the
civilian ship. "Titan, Lioness, use your cloaking devices to
fall on them in surprise" commanded control. "Ten-four," I
replied, "Cloaking, now!". Stress engulfed me as we closed
on the pirate vessels. This was the real thing! A real
combat! With real shots and real kills! And I had only inert
practice-missiles! My hands shook on the stick. "Watch your
tense levels," I said. Then Sparky's advice flashed into my
mind. "Remember, Titan, This is just another spaceborn sim.
Let's make this, one for the history books" I said. Later it
would seem awkward that Titan and I worked as a team but at
that moment, there were other enemies to care about. And the
quote seemed to calm me. By then I could see the Galathea.
The News Ship was leaking drive-plasma from several holes in
its hull. I could see two pirate fighters taking pot shots
at the heavy frigate. Behind them lay the slim ironclad body
of a pirate raiding frigate. "Engaging targets" I reported
as I chose my first target. I switched to full-guns mode and
closed on the unaware pirate. "You're all mine," I cried in
the interstellar frequency as I decloaked. I was right on my
enemy's tail and caught him by surprise. The pirate fighter
was produced of spare parts and black market deals. It had
no shields to deflect the damage and its rusted rear armor
crumbled under the heavy barrage I fired. The fighter
exploded and I cloaked again. "That one's for the cubs!" I
cried in the interstellar frequency. I maneuvered towards
the frigate. The pirate fighters could only damage the
Galathea. They needed the frigate's tractor-beam and raiding
party to take over the Galathea and pillage it. Therefore
the frigate had to go down. Also, the frigate was their
ticket into and out of hyperspace - I could strand the
fighters by blocking their retreat. I maneuvered to the aft
of the frigate. Another pirate went blasting as Titan
claimed his first kill. "There's no better prey then the big
fat cows" I taunted as I decloaked. I fired a heavy salvo on
the frigate's aft. The frigate engines were damaged by the
salvo and I hastened to release a shorter salvo from my
decreasing batteries. Titan passed by me suddenly releasing
a salvo on the frigate's starboard decks. "Feed!" I roared,
"Soon!" and I fired another salvo. There was a blast and I
saw fires burst in the frigate's top-aft. Since the days
when man sailed in the seas of old Earth, there was never a
greater enemy to a ship than fire. The frigate suddenly
tumbled left and I noticed some sort of flash as an internal
explosion shook the ship. "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!"
cried Titan as another fighter went blasting away. A second
internal explosion ripped an airlock away. I could see
things and people sucked outside the broken airlock. There
was another internal explosion and another. One reached the
main reactor and the frigate was torn to five parts as an
immense explosion finished its days of terrorizing the
space. "Attention, Confederation fighters," called a new
voice, "I surrender". It was the last pirate fighter. "Then
stand down and cease fire" I replied. "Standing down,"
confirmed the pirate and I saw the fighter halt. Only then,
did the other cadets arrive. "You left nothing for us,"
embittered Jane, "you egotistical jerks!". "Good work,
Lioness and Titan," said instructor Ark, "I'm proud of you.
We all are". "Thank you," I replied, "It was a milk-run".
"Good," said control, "Galathea, report your status". "Hull
integrity is low but holding," replied Galathea, "We were
ambushed by the pirates on the fringes of Delta Aquilae and
were forced to flee into hyperspace. They caught with us
again and would have butchered us without you. Thank you for
your assistance, Confed". "Perhaps you'd better home in and
dock for repairs," suggested control. "Affirmative, Confed,"
Replied Galathea. "Now," instructor Slicker said, "Titan and
Lioness, return to base at best speed. Shadow, Comet,
Flamethrower, Night Bat, escort the pirate fighter to base".
"They get all the fun," murmured Dreamer. "Dreamer and
Spear, you get the important task of escorting the
Galathea". "Me and my big mouth," muttered Jane as she
entered escort pattern over the Galathea. I turned towards
the academy and fired the afterburners. It took me around
ten minutes and there was the academy. "Control," I
flattered myself, "permission to fly-by". "Ahh, all right,
Lioness, cleared fly-by," said control, "but only this
time". "Confirmed, control," I replied as I pushed my
throttle to maximum, "approaching for one-time fly-by". The
Wildcat sped up as I closed with the academy. I flew close
to the windows of the control room, letting the high-speed
emissions of the engine make the windows shudder as I
passed. It was not as effective as an atmospheric fly-by but
was still impressive. "Nice fly-by, Lioness," said control,
"approach landing in flight deck one. You've done good
kiddo. You're cleared for landing".

I climbed down the ladder and then took off my helmet. Two
kills! I hadn't yet graduated the academy and already have
two kills! What a mighty beginning for a piloting career. No
one's going to put me in boring patrols in some meaningless
point of the galaxy! Battles! Shooting down enemies! Firing
on enemies! Taking down cap-ships! I looked around at the
flight deck. Abruptly all thoughts about glory vanished,
replaced by a single flashing thought, "I could have gotten
killed there!". All the adrenalin suddenly flushed out of my
body. I sagged and had to lean on the Wildcat's side for my
balance. A vision of the battle took me like some
frightening sort of instant replay. Only this time it was a
Wildcat in my aims and I could hear my own voice screams as
it went blasting away. "Hey, kid, you 'k?" the voice seemed
to come from far away. I heard someone rushing. "It's always
like that after the first time, kid," the voice said, "it
gets better". I looked up and saw it was a mechanic, all
streaked with grease and oil. He put his hand on my shoulder
and clasped gently. "Forget this 'could have died' hoo-ha,
kid," he said, "You didn't die because you were better". "I
had the technological advantage," I said, my voice doubtful.
"The cloaking device?" the mechanic chuckled softly, "kid,
what sort of missiles do you think these pirates use?
Imrecs? FFs? Nah. They use Heat-seekers. Your cloaking
device won't help against those, you know. You just didn't
give 'em time to shoot them, 'k? So don't let it get to you.
You won 'cause you're a hell lot better". I gave that idea a
minute of thinking and felt better already. I started
thanking the mechanic but at that moment, the speakers
boomed, "Lioness, Titan to briefing room two immediately!".
I hastened to say goodbye and rushed up the stairs.

"Ensigns!" Colonel Sharp looked at us, "your quick reactions
saved a civilian ship today, wrecked a pirate crew and
earned us important strategic info from the mouth of our
captive. The CBS-13 is one of the only twenty five
broadcaster ships of TNN. It will earn us great PR from the
media. In edition, quick reviews of the battle proved that
both of you acted quickly, decisively and wisely as expected
from Confed pilots. Both of you chose your targets wisely by
their importance. Briggs, you did well to take out some of
the escort before going after the Capital Ship. Now, as a
bonus for your excellence, I'm giving each of you 30 points
on the scoreboard and... We figured that we can promote you
two to tutor-assignment three weeks earlier. Your whole
class will  take the tutoring lesson tomorrow and start
tutoring immediately after that. Comments?". "No sir," I
answered. Titan said, "It was easy, sir!". "It won't always
be so easy," Colonel Sharp shook his head, "but you're
allowed to celebrate. After all, you won. Dismissed". I
turned to leave but Colonel Sharp said, "oh and one more
thing. If there was an illegal usage of the RADINT systems
that gave two cadets early information of what was going on,
no one should hear about it, right?".

Chapter Seven
Tutor! Already! I took my sit and readied myself for a
lesson of command and leadership. "The whole thing about
tutoring," said the Instructor "is psychology". "Excuse me?"
I thought, "Psychology? What the hell?". I leaned back and
got ready for a boring lesson. "The most important chore of
the tutor is to make sure that his student is relaxed.
Tension could kill!".

Yes, yes. Tension could kill. So could boredom. I thought
the lesson would never end before it did. "Class," the
instructor concluded, "tomorrow, right after the morning
simulation, you get your students. Remember, you're getting
pilots in their first real flight. They would be tensed and
unsure of their skills. However, in no condition other than
a real danger should you take over the fighter. If you'd
like you may watch the morning simulation. Most of you would
probably need to refresh your memory. Good day".

"This is your pilot," instructor Ark told me that evening,
"her name is Helen Unger. Callsign: 'High-Ball'. Read this
file in your free time. Ensign Briggs, allow me to remind
you that she is going to be beset by the simulation. Do
whatever you can to relax her. I know you'll do a good job".
I took the briefed file and exited. I went back to my room
and opened it. There was a picture there and a bunch of
data. "How's your student, Connie?" asked Jay from his bed.
"Hmm, pretty," I murmured, "she's Borderworlder too.
Intelligent. Physically able. First in her class in gunnery
skill. Matches you, eh? She's a fair flyer. Oh... she's
considered brave but undetermined. And she appears to weaken
under pressure. Well, I hate easy targets, you know. So they
gave me a tensed pilot to fly with. How nice. What about
yours?". Jay started telling me about 'Meatshield' and I
found myself dozing off.

The Thunderbolt shook. "This is High-Ball. I need
assistance!" cried my student. "Rage here, I'm on it,"
replied someone. The Shoklar broke suddenly as an Imrec
charged at it. I smiled at the struggling cadets. I still
tried to figure out why Confed always encumbered everyone
with that nasty scenario before their first flight but
then... I didn't understand half the things Confed does. I
was never a bureaucratic type. "Rage to all pilots, report
you status" the cadet took command nicely. "I can barely
hold this ship together!" said someone. "You're alright but
I need to retreat!" answered High-Ball. "Nothing I can't
handle," added a third one, and then, "Oh shit! I'm going
down!". High-ball jerked her Thunderbolt to the left a
missile charge at her. "Down," I murmured, "dive or you're
dead!". Apparently, High-Ball had other thoughts. She pulled
up, trying to evade the missile. No use. She just gave the
missile a bigger target. "I'm hit!" she cried before her
Thunderbolt sent blazing away. The other two were finished
off quickly but I couldn't help noticing that that 'Rage'
guy had three kills and a very impressive performance. My
High-Ball was not bad, but... well... it doesn't count if
you die. While I hastened to the flight deck, I heard the
instructor behind me gave the lecture about the original
scenario.

"Radio check?" requested High-Ball. "Meatshield ready for
the big day," answered the wing commander. "Control, reading
you loud and clear, High-Ball". "Hello, High-Ball, My name's
5th level Ensign Constance Briggs. Callsign 'Lioness'. I'll
be you tutor today. I'm second in my class records, one of
the first four to fly solo and a resident of Tyr V so you're
in good hands". "Roger," High-Ball breathed and said,
"Control, High-Ball requesting clearance for takeoff?".
"Cleared, High-Ball, in your own time". "Remember
High-Ball," I said, learning from my own experience,
"tension is your greatest enemy right now. Treat this flight
as no more than a very realistic simulator. Just a spaceborn
sim. You'll do fine!". "Right," she sighed. She pushed the
throttle forward and began takeoff. "You're just fine," I
told her, even though she went out of the flight deck quiet
slowly. "High-Ball, form on my wing," said Meatshield.
"Bloody instructors in disguise, I'm telling you," Jay
bumped into the comm channel, "They're both too good to be
rookies. Eh?". "That," I introduced, "would be my esteemed
classmate Jason Galadread, Shadow for merchandising
purposes. But I guess you know that already. You instructors
probably went through our files last night. Bloody nosy
instructors!". "Nope," answered High-Ball, her voice
relaxed, "Just bloody nosy good cadets". "Ten-Four to that,"
I chuckled. Both pilots seemed relaxed now and that was the
main purpose. High-Ball closed the formation, letting her
piloting skills do the job. Our wing turned towards waypoint
one. "Lioness, what's the fuss about 30 points for you and-"
Jay was suddenly cut as High-Ball interfered, "oh my god.
You're her! With the pirates! Oh boy, oh boy oh boy! Wait
till everyone hears about this!". "High-Ball calm down," I
chuckled, "this is not Panther you're talking to!". "Who?"
she asked. "Err... Christopher Blair. This is not
Christopher you're talking to!". "Oh," she said, "but...".
"Please," I said, "I did what you would be able to do in six
months too". "Right," I could hear her gnawing of the bottom
lip, "sure". "Three months with these skills, Lioness," said
Jay, "no one is as slow as you are! Especially not these two
talents!". I looked to my right and raised a thumb towards
Jay. "You bet," I said.

We were in the second waypoint, the asteroid field. "What's
this?" High-Ball suddenly hazarded, "Rogue, you're going to
hit that debris!". I looked and saw one Thunderbolt moving
dangerously close to a part of the pirate frigate. The pilot
or his tutor, I never found out which, pulled the
Thunderbolt up, straight towards us. High-Ball did the right
thing - meaning she maneuvered right swiftly. We hit
Meatshield's Thunderbolt in a speed of 140 clicks. Well, it
was shield-to-shield impact and no real damage was sustained
but I could feel the fighter tumbling as High-Ball suddenly
broke under the tension. I didn't hesitate. I pushed the
'override switch' and stabled the fighter. "High-Ball," I
called, "We're all right. High-Ball!". "I almost killed us,"
she whined and I understood she was crying. "Nonsense!" I
said, decisive and encouraging, "it was a shield-to-shield
impact! Meatshield, report status". "Status: Fully
functional" said Meatshield, "We're fine High-Ball".
"High-Ball! Helen," I recalled her first name, "Come on.
Snap out of it, girl. Nothing happened". "Control to
Lioness. Take the fighter home, Lioness". "Come on,"
High-Ball's voice shuddered, "take us out of here". It was
tempting. It was the easy way out. Taking control over the
fighter and returning to the academy. But then... High-Ball
would never forget it. She'd always feel she screwed up and
will always be unconfident. It was the easy way but it
wasn't the right way. "Negative to that order, Control, I'm
not the pilot here" I answered. "What?" High-Ball whispered.
"Listen to me," I said, "Get a grip on yourself. You're just
fine. You did the right thing when you rolled right, ok. It
was the best course of getting out of the way. And you
probably saved that Rogue guy, right". "Rogue girl,"
interfered Rockbiter, "She's a girl. I'd say it's my fault I
didn't see that debris. But anyhow, High-Ball you saved us.
Get your acts together, girl. You're doing fine". "Roger
that," I felt the Thunderbolt rattle as High-Ball caught the
stick and turned. "Good," I said, "the ball is high in your
field! Take us home, Helen".

She landed the fighter hesitantly, missing the intended
landing point by 50 Centimeters. It sounds a small
differential but on the small flight decks of frigates and
even certain types of destroyers this might mean bashing the
nose against a fragile aluminum-curtain wall. However I kept
on encouraging her. She had too many slaps already without a
nagging tutor on her head. She climbed down the ladder and I
noticed her legs were shaking. Unwritten academy rules
forbid the student from looking towards the tutor. However,
even though few tutors would, the tutor may authorize
contact with the student. I felt that this time it would be
better if I did. I opened the canopy and called, "High-Ball,
wait". She didn't look towards me but I could see her
attention shifts to me. I quickly climbed down the ladder,
waving a warning finger towards the mech who studied a
scratch in the Thunderbolt's paint. High-Ball didn't need
that kind of lecture right now. I closed with her. "You can
look at me," I said, "You've got tutor clearance". "No," she
whispered. "Come on," I said, "I may be a Lioness but I
don't bite". Her gaze rose to meet my own. "You're just
fine," I calmed her, "you did fine". "No I didn't," she
murmured, "I screwed up everything". She burst into tears. I
pitied her so much. She did nothing wrong. It was simply an
accident. Ok, I admit I got a bit scared when I saw
Meatshield's wing closing with my cabin but... no real
damage happened. It could have happen to everyone. She just
had bad luck. As they say, ship happens. "You didn't screw
up anything," I claimed, "well, here's what my report's
going to show today: good takeoff. Fine flight pattern.
Keeping formation well. Fast perception that saved a student
and tutor from a dangerous bash with a hunk of metal. Swift
and correct reactions. Fast recovery from a traumatic event.
Flying well under stress, not a bad landing, all things
considered. You did well, Helen". She kept weeping and I
felt more was needed. "Screw psychology," I thought, "Act
like a human being". I put my arm around her shoulder and
hugged her. "You simply had bad luck, Helen," I told her,
"it could have happen to anyone. You know that you turned
right because that would roll you out of collision course
the fastest way. You did the right thing. Hell, you even
gave me a good heart attack and that, if I remember
correctly, is one of the Ten Commandments for first-flights.
You did what I or Colonel Sharp or even Pan- err...
Christopher Blair would have done. It was a fine rescue
roll, to the right direction. It's all bad luck. Come on.
Let me show you the 'terrible damage' you did". She
reluctantly followed me. I pointed my finger and said "see
that scratch! You did it! Now the mechs have to paint it
again! How terrible! Haven't you heard that the waste of
paints here in the academy is a monetary pain-in-the-butt
for Colonel Sharp?". The sarcasm did the trick. She chuckled
at the scratch. I raised my finger behind her head, warning
the mechanic not to mess with me. Luckily, he got the idea
and went away, cursing about paint-jobs in a juicy
Puerto-Rican accent. I escorted High-Ball to her instructor
and was dismissed.

Later that evening, I was called to Instructor Ark's office.
Instructors Ark and Slicker were there, along with
Instructors Grib and Rowling. "Ensign," Instructor Grib
started, "Your report about Recruit Unger's performance
today". I took a deep breath. "Recruit Unger was attempting
to evade collision with another fighter and rolled towards
the right direction - it was the best and fastest way to
evade-" I was cut but by instructor Rowling, "That's all
fine, Ensign Briggs but we asked about her performance, not
your impression," his voice softened, "we're not here to
judge neither you nor her so you can stop acting as her
attorney. We simply want to know how she did". "Oh," I
exhaled, relieved, "ok. Her takeoff was slower than the
average peaceful takeoff. I gathered she's a bit insecure.
However, she kept formation well and navigated steadily to
nav-point one. Her turn towards nav-point two was performed
in a short-burst-turn rather then the usual circling
movement but it helped her keep formation with the wing
commander. Her wing didn't engage in A-field maneuvers so
she kept formation. She was the first and as I gather the
only one to spot the Thunderbolt flown by Rogue, pardon but
I don't know her name, and she acted quickly to warn from
the collision. She attempted to evade collision with Rogue
by rolling right but she and I too forgot that she was still
in formation. There was a shield-to-shield impact that
scared her as hell. I had to override the control and
stabilize the fighter. Soon after that she gathered her wits
and flown back. Her flying skill was degraded during our way
back but she made it. The landing was about half a meter off
the marker but I believe that it was due to her immense
stress". "That says about everything," said Rowling, "and
now, what is your impression of Recruit Unger?". "As far as
I can tell Recruit Unger's greatest problem is her
self-confidence" I said, "she has fair flight skills, she
reacts quickly, she is highly perceptive and she uses her
brains. However, Recruit Unger's low confidence as well as
her tendency to break under pressure are a big marker in the
Minuses list". "Interesting," said instructor Grib, "you're
not afraid to stand up for her but you do not cover over her
minuses. That's an interesting contradiction". "No sir," I
shook my head, "I'm reporting what I saw and what think. I
think High-Ball did a not uncommon mistake and I feel that
it is my duty to clear that matter. It doesn't necessarily
mean that I'm here to put in good words for her. I feel
obliged to add my opinion that this mistake is one that is
easy to make. More to that, if someone is to be blamed for
this error, it well may be me. I could have overridden her
control and roll the fighter the other way". "In the same
spirit," said Instructor Rowling, "You could blame us for
not pointing out such dangers. Or for not emphasizing these
points clearly enough. But as I said, we're not here to
judge anyone. Your report has been very interesting".
"Indeed," agreed instructor Slicker, "However there is
another matter that we wanted to discuss. Ensign Briggs, you
have disobeyed a direct order from the control room".
"That's true," I admitted, "I believed the order was wrong
and therefore declined it". "You are aware of the fact that
the Control room is considered as a superior officer,"
Slicker's brows raised in a threatening gesture. "Permission
to speak freely?" I requested. "Go ahead," said instructor
Ark. "I've been ordered to override Recruit Unger's control
and take the fighter home. However, it was my judgment that
it might wreck Recruit Unger's last remnants of self
confidence. I guess you all know the phrase: 'When you fall
off the back of a Jabbering Moose, Climb right back'? Well I
thought this act to be metaphorically equal. As I judged it,
Recruit Unger was still capable of flying the fighter. I was
briefed that in no condition other then real danger should I
take control over the fighter. I saw no real danger to
anyone. I thought that if Recruit Unger is to carry on in
the academy, she has to give her confidence the chance to
climb right back". "She has a point there," mentioned
Instructor Rowling, "let's not forget that a tutor's chore
is to teach, not just supervise". "You're right," Instructor
Slicker agreed, "but there was still a disobedient
behavior". Instructor Ark said, "Ensign Briggs, you have
just admitted in a very serious misconduct. You are aware
that such behavior could not go unpunished. Yet, your
impressive achievements, your near flawless performance
today and the fact that your record is clean of any past
misconduct, we will ease on the punishment. We will assign
you to be the guide for a new cadet, to help that cadet
improve his flaws and so on. I think instructor Rowling has
the perfect choice for you". "Well," Rowling smiled, "I have
a very competent cadet that needs to learn how to move the
ball in the high time of the two-minute drills. Yes,
Ensign?". "Excuse me sir," my brows rose, "I take it you
want me to help Recruit Unger?". "Ensign Unger," Rowling
smiled as he corrected me, "For as long as we determine or
until you graduate. And in your free time, of course.
Agreed?". "Yes sir," I couldn't hold back a smile. "Good,
dismissed," Instructor Slicker waved her hand. I opened the
door, went out and then cocked my head back in. "Eh,
Instructor Rowling, sir?" I said. "Yes, Ensign," he looked a
bit irritated. "Beg your pardon sir," I said, "but... What's
a two-minute drill?".

Ok. I figured I could do it. I mean, from what I gathered
High-Ball was quite a fair pilot... she just had to find it.
Now, my brother used to be a damned lousy gunner. When my
father trained him, using the notorious ACE500 simulator, my
brother had a hard time aiming on the computer-controlled
rivals. He lost his confidence and was thinking about
quitting his dream of flying. But then, in a convention we
visited, dad offered my brother to try against flying
against me. At that time I was still fresh on the Sims and
was obviously no real match for my brother. However, when my
brother entered, dad pulled me out and took my place. Dad
tried to imitate my own flying style - meaning he did it
much better than I could at that time. Finally, my brother
got an aim at him and roasted him. Then my brother exited.
He saw me standing and watching. I would never forget his
baffled look as he said, "Connie, if you're here then who's
inside?". And then dad went out. Now to make a long boring
story to a short boring story, this made my brother
understand that he was defeating himself with his
unconfident behavior. "You've got to believe in yourself,"
my father said and I never forgot. And the lesson was so
well taught that the last time I checked my brother was
still the most esteemed pilot onboard TCS Axis. The lesson
was clear: "Prove them that they can do it". I already had a
plan.

"I can't do it!" she screamed, for perhaps the thousand time
in the last couple of weeks. "You never know until you gave
it a real chance," I answered. High-Ball murmured something
under her nose. "Come on, Helen" I encouraged her, "you
already made it to half the field. Come on. Let's try
again!". She sighed and I re-ran the simulation. She was
flying a lone Thunderbolt in the middle of a dense asteroid
field. She started maneuvering, evading the fast-moving
asteroids. She made it to quarter field before I sent the
first homing asteroid. I figured that watching an asteroid
correcting its movement to keep its track towards a
collision with you is a real dread but I had no better
choice. She outmaneuvered the asteroid, leaving it behind
her. Good. I sent in the second one, this time a much bigger
and faster asteroid. I almost screamed in frustration as she
once again repeated the same mistake - she tried to evade
it. It would be smarter to simply shoot it - like a
High-Tech version of the Disasteroids game that was popular
when I was young. "Why didn't you shoot it?" I asked as her
Thunderbolt smeared on the belly of the asteroid. "I didn't
think," she said and I heard her holding back a weep. "Not
again!" I thought. "Ok," I decided to change the tactic,
"Helen, ever played Hover-Crashers?". "Hover-what?" she
asked. "Hover-Crashers. You know, when two hovers try to
crash at each other?". "No!" she said, "I've never heard of
this game". "It's a Tyr game," I said, "ok here's the
scenario. I'm putting you in an Arrow and I'm putting an AI
controlled Dralthi at your back. The cat's going to try and
hit you. You have to evade. The arena is limited by size and
you have to survive for three minutes". "Right," she said,
but she didn't sound that sure. Fine. I gave my orders to
the sim, making sure that the Kilrathi had a very low flying
skill. Don't start too hard. She did it. She stood against
the Kilrathi for three minutes very well. "Good," I said,
"try again, this time with a slower fighter". I declined
usage of heavy fighters because she wouldn't have a chance
to evade. Well unless of course this heavy fighter is the
supreme Excalibur. Once again, she dealt quite well with the
Spacer-Crasher.

It was the starting point of an exhausting week. I stayed up
late to help her regain her confidence. I was beginning to
think I did it when she could evade three Dralthis with a
Hellcat for consistent eight minutes. But then, as I came
with a new scenario in my mind to the eighth Spacer-Crasher
day, I found her standing near the terminal. She pointed at
the place where it said, in clear English "Lowered Computer
AI". She looked at me and said, "I thought I was getting
somewhere". I could hear immense despair in her voice. I
fumbled. "We all start from the bottom," I tried, but I saw
that it didn't work. Ok. Extreme times require extreme
measures. My plan was an act of desperation but I couldn't
let the progress she made slip. "Look," I showed her, "I'm
going setting the AI to normal. I think you're ready for it.
3 minutes against a single Normal AI Dralthi". "And you'll
change it while I'm in?" she asked, suspicious. "No," I
answered, "Look what happens when I change it". The speaker
sizzled and confirmed: "AI Preferences altered!". "It's this
way to prevent cheating in tournaments" I explained, "You
can't change the AI without a warning that would wake up
half the academy". "Ok," she scanned the monitor again and
then entered the cabin. Her steps were unsure. Damn! As soon
as she closed her cabin's door, I entered a quick sequence
of orders and moved in to the sim.

"Here we go," her voice trembled slightly. "Caution," I
warned, "the Dralthi is high above you. 7 o'clock high". "I
got it" she replied. I maneuvered the Dralthi and dived
towards her. The Dralthi simulation was based upon whatever
bits of data Confed gathered on the Kilrathi light fighter.
In fact, it reacted pretty well - but it was different than
any Confed or Borderworld fighter I've ever flown or
simulated. Its turning rate was somewhat limited but I was
counting on that withdrawal to weaken my reactions and ease
up on High-Ball. She outmaneuvered me as I struggled to get
used to the awkward turning rate. I suddenly had the
impression that I know exactly why the Kilrathi lost the war
- their common light fighter was outmaneuvered by a cadet in
a Hellcat! I didn't count my own inexperience as part of the
deal, and that was obviously stupid of me. But then again,
we won! I was starting to get a grip on the right technique
when the three minutes I gave the fight were over. "I did
it!" said High-Ball. "Don't get out," I warned her, "come
on. Do it again". I clicked the restart button and was on
her immediately. After getting a fair idea as to how the
fighter acted and reacted, I felt competent with it. I
charged her, trying to bash her with the awkward point the
Dralthi had for a nose. She evaded by pulling up. I rolled
left and pulled up behind her. Her Hellcat was cruising as
attempted to locate the Dralthi. I was below and behind her,
completely out of her line of sight. "Use you radar, girl!"
I ordered as I charged again. The Hellcat rolled left and I
passed to her right. I turned and faced her again. "Cats!"
she suddenly taunted, "They never learn". "Inferior ape," I
roared, imitating a famous Kilrathi reply. "Lioness," she
murmured, "why are you replying?". "Gee," I fumbled for an
answer, "the AI is not programmed to reply to taunts and you
do know that lions are felines too". "Right," she
outmaneuvered me when I tried to bash her from above,
"surely. Ok, tutor. Here kitty kitty kitty". She suddenly
slowed in front of me. A perfect target? Can't she see me?
Not using her radar again? No freebies this time. "I crave
for primate blood!" I said as I fired my afterburners, "See
you in the graveyard". "I'm just making the space safe for
mankind" she replied as I closed with her Hellcat. Suddenly
she fired her afterburners and was out of my sights -
letting a very big asteroid fill them. With a flash of
light, my Dralthi was torn to pieces. I hastened out of the
sim. And there they were. They were two, a man and a woman.
Both had the same brown eyes and the same brownish-gold hair
color. I could tell they were related from miles.  "Where
did you come from?" I asked, tensed by the surprise. "I'm
sorry," the man said, "We're 2nd level Ensigns Michael and
Brook Rigsby. We're twins". I noted the chest stripes. So,
the charismatic Rage and the infamous Rogue were twins, eh?
"We passed by," said Rogue, her eyes lowered, "and I thought
we can watch. We didn't mean to interfere". I side-looked at
High-Ball who was still standing near the door to her cabin.
"Well," Rage shifted his weight from leg to leg, "we'll
carry on. Sorry for the interruption". They hurried away and
I turned towards High-Ball. She didn't discover that it was
me inside, I guessed, or she'd be making a fuss. "There goes
one hell of a pilot," she said, her eyes following the male
Rigsby, "wish I could fly as good as he does". "He's a good
helmsman," I said, "but he's not perfect. Remember who
spotted that debris back there?". "Yes yes," she grumbled,
"perceptive. Perceptive! That's all I hear. Well I'm not
here to be perceptive! I'm here to fly!". "As you may have
noticed," I used sarcasm again, "perception can save lives".
"Ha!" she snorted, "if anyone flies worse than I do, it's
her! Rogue! Ha. Her brother's one damn good pilot but she
couldn't park a tin-can without autopilot aid!". "If she was
that bad," I said, "she wouldn't be here". But, without any
prior thinking, a cunning plan started taking place in my
mind.

"I would agree to this idea," said instructor Rowling, "but
only if Ensigns Rigsby agree to volunteer for it. Fair
enough?". "Fair enough," I agreed. I was glad to discover
that instructor Rowling was so empathic towards High-Ball's
confidence problem. "Let me save you a trip," he said. He
reached for the microphone on his table and called, "Ensigns
Rigsby to Room 106. Now!". "Excuse me sir," I said, "isn't
that a bit confusing?". There was a hasty knock on the door.
Rowling said "Come in" and the twins rushed in. "A good
answer, Ensign?" he smiled. He reminded me of instructor Ark
so much. I wondered if the other instructor, Grib or
whatever they called him, was as mean as Slicker was. "I
must ask High-Ball about that" I thought. The Rigsby twins
took their seats to Instructor Rowling's order. Rogue
couldn't help sneaking a glance towards me. "Ensigns
Rigsby," Instructor Rowling said, "Ensign Briggs wants to
ask for you voluntary aid in some training she's passing
now". "You mean High-Ball, sir?" asked Rage. "Yes," Rowling
nodded. "I'd love too," Rogue spoke hastily, as if in a
hurry, "High-Ball was... well... it wasn't her fault, sir. I
was stupid and I started musing and lost my concentration.
And she did save my life sir. I for one think she's a great
pilot. She just has to discover it for herself!". She
stopped and gulped for air. "I agree," said Rage, his hand
on his sister's shoulder, "she saved my sister. I feel like
I- I mean we - owe her a lot". "Good," said Instructor
Rowling, "Did you guys ever heard of American football? No.
nice game, trust me, very rough but very delicate. Anyway,
they had this one sort of play there. It's called
Quarterback Fake".

Ok. Phase one was completed! Good! High-Ball was going to
meet her "only one that flies worse then her" on roughly
equal terms. Rogue waited near the simulator as I
approached. High-Ball regarded her with suspicious eyes.
"Did I mention it's time you tried Spacer-Crasher against a
live opponent?" I asked, "Rogue here volunteered to fly the
Dralthi. Now, remember, Rogue, the Dralthi has a very
awkward turning rate. It might be rough in the beginning".
"I'll try this game," she tried to make fun, "but if I fail,
I want the quarter back". "Gottcha," I replied, reassured.
In the third cabin, Rage was already waiting. Good!
High-Ball snorted something about this being a milk-run. All
so very good. Rogue and High-Ball took their cabins and I
ran the simulation. High-Ball's Arrow evaded the Dralthi
easily the first time. "Again," I ordered, "Rogue, you're
getting one more minute now!". "Four minutes?" Rogue
embittered, playing her part well, "maybe that would be
enough". She didn't sound too sure about that. Beautifully
engineered Quarterback Fake. Once again, High-Ball
out-maneuvered the Dralthi, playing it cool as she toyed
with the clumsy Dralthi. "You think it was easy, High-Ball,"
I declared, "try evading a Dralthi for eight minutes in a
Dralthi". "What?" asked Rogue, playing her part, "But...".
"No buts," said High-Ball, "I can do it!". "Try," said
Rogue. "Let's go, Lioness," said High-Ball. "Right," I
clicked a pre-recorded sequence and helped Rogue out of her
cabin. We watched together as High-Ball maneuvered, evading
Rage's Dralthi. In the beginning her maneuvers were somewhat
frantic, as she struggled with the awkward flight patterns
of the Dralthi. But after the third minute, she eased up and
kept her wits as she took painful High-G turns to evade the
Dralthi. Half a minute before the clock ran out, Rogue
turned and hasted towards the closest observation deck.
Excellent. The last seconds ran out and I called High-Ball
to come out. "Wow," she said, "that wasn't easy! Damn cats
never learned how to build a fighter? That thing was a
darned death trap!". I handed her a towel and said, "Rogue
went to bring some refreshments". She took the towel and
said, "Really? Good, cause that flight was- wait a second!
If Rogue went to bring refreshments, then who's was flying
the other Dralthi?". "He did," I pointed at the cabin that
Rage was exiting. "He did?" High-Ball's eyes torn open and
her jaw dropped. "He did?" she repeated, doubtful, "Rage? He
was chasing me? And I made it? I out maneuvered Rage for 10
minutes?". "Don't faint," I warned, "it's bad for your
reputation. You out-maneuvered Rage for 17 minutes!". "But
he is..." she fumbled for words, "I can't...". "Yes," I
clasped her shoulder, "Yes you can!". At that moment, Rogue
returned, carrying four plastic-cups of some juice. "I beat
rage!" High-Ball told her, "I beat him!". "She did,"
admitted Rage, "while you were busy handling this bug-juice
I was working my ass off trying to get her in my sights".
"She didn't miss it," I said, "It's all recorded". High-Ball
released a shriek and said, "I've to see it to believe it".
I reran the recording. She jumped from her seat as it
finished. ,"I beat ya Rage!" she giggled, "I beat ya!". At
that moment, I knew I did it. It would still need to be
refined but Helen 'High-Ball' Unger gained her confidence
back. Score one for American football!

So far so good. To stand in the news-vid limits I'll shorten
the story and tell you that High-Ball made the grade. Last I
heard of her, she was onboard TCS Eisen and was doing pretty
well. She'd never become a second Panther but come to think
about it, me neither and nor will most people.

Chapter Eight
And suddenly, it was all over. Two years, efforts, pains,
successes, failures, the works. It was all over. We were
called to a briefing room and there was Colonel Sharp. "We
all know," he started, "that you all worked hard in the last
two years. You have attempted, failed, got back on your feet
and tried again! And again! And now, all ten of you have
made the grade. The Combat-Space-Flight-Course-1295 is
concluded. You all did extremely well and have stood up were
many others fell. This is a very proud moment to announce
that you will all be promoted to 2nd lieutenant rank
tomorrow afternoon. It will be a great party, you can be
sure about that. We've already sent invitations to your
families. Now, most of you haven't seen your families for
two years so I don't expect to see dry eyes tomorrow. You're
pilots but you are humans first of all. Before I officially
conclude Course 1295 there are two small matters we must
attend to. First of all - stationing. I won't keep you on
the edge. Comet, Spear, Flamethrower and Night Bat, you guys
are going to TCS Sabertooth. I know the CAG there - you'll
have a good time. Rockbiter, Red Flare and Dreamer, you guys
go to Necessity Space Station. It's a good place. Enjoy.
Black Bear, you're going to Carnarvon Space Station, close
to home as you requested. It's an unusual move but you've
earned it rightfully. Shadow, you're staying here! You've
earned the right to go for high-education and become an
Instructor here. Come to my office at 1700 Zulu the day
after tomorrow. Finally, last but certainly not least. Titan
and Lioness, you guys are going to TCS Lancelot. Now about
the other small matter - the records! Ok. Start with the
fameless parts - Jane Spear Oldziey - for improving your
attitude and your obedience - The Course official Rebel and
the Course official convert!". Jane marched forward to
receive two miniatures of a Heat-seeker missile. "Now,
Shadow - extreme gunner but you need to improve your
maneuvering skills - Course Official Bomber-Pilot". Jay
received his miniature Torpedo and waved it as if he won the
Oswald Academy Award. "Lioness, for fast reactions, tutoring
beyond any required level, helping others, and for killing
two pirates before you got your wings - The Course Official
Leader, Course Official Interceptor, The Course Official
Support role, and the Course Official Judgment Day pick". I
received the prizes, a small silver star, an Arrow
miniature, a Tractor-Rescue Veichle miniature and a
Victory-class carrier miniature. Beautiful, respectful
but... "Last but never least. Titan. The Course Excel!".
Titan rose forward to receive his small golden star. It had
to be like this. Me or Titan. In the third place Terry had a
twenty points deficit. The thirty points each of us got were
the cause. Terry would have taken the Excel easily any other
way. But Titan got it. Ok, I admit he was at least matching
my skills but... No. I knew I was doing him injustice
because of past grudges. And actually after the incident
with Panther, Titan pretty much went off my back and, I had
to admit, was even noble enough to help me in certain area.
I gathered that it was the battle with the pirates that
changed his mind. It was a classic. A mini-example for
humanity. Humanity needed the outside threat of the
Kilrathi, the threat that wants to take us all out with no
inclination towards a certain religion, race, nationalism or
gender. Humanity abandoned its inside grudges to face a
common enemy together. And Titan and I abandoned our
hostility to face a common enemy. It was the way of nature.
Only I always had the feeling that these grudges were
sleeping rather then dead. I felt grim and knew it was due
to the fact that HE got the first place. Second place
doesn't count for a pilot's ego. "I'm proud of you all,"
said Colonel Sharp, "now get out of my face before I change
my mind!".

It was the next day. Soft music filled the observation deck.
"I know," said Instructor Ark, "That you all missed your
families very much. So, let the party begin". The doors
swung open and proud families flowed in. I looked, restless,
trying to locate my parents. I was nervous about it. During
the beginning of the course, there was a time that mom and
dad refused to talk to me. They were very hurt by my hasty
disappearance. But it got better after some time and I began
sending and receiving more vid-letters. But now it was the
first time I was going to see them after two years. I found
mom in the crowed and hurried towards her. "Mom!" I cried.
She turned and stared at me. Her eyes were wet and her mouth
trembled. For a second I feared she's not going to welcome
me but- she spread her arms open and I jumped into her hug.
"Mommy," I said, unable to hold my tears back, "I'm sorry
mommy". "I know," mom's grip tightened, "I know Connie. I'm
sorry too. I missed you". "I missed you too, mommy" I said,
trying to settle myself back on the ground. It was so
emotional. Then mom released her hug. I took a step back and
there was dad. "Connie," he looked at me, "or should I say
Lioness?". "Daddy!" new tears came as I embraced my father,
"Daddy!  I missed you so much". The emotions tide went away
for some time and I told them a bit about how was the
course, successes and failures, friends, etcetera. "So Billy
Galadread's son is with you?" asked dad, "Billy and I were
on TCS Shark during the Rostov offensive. He's a good pilot.
How's the son?". "Jay's my boyfriend," I said, winking.
"Oh," dad raised a furry brow, "Where's your instructors? I
have to complain about you. I gave them my little daughter
and got back a woman!". "You've grown, Connie," agreed mom,
"I mean... 2nd lieutenant Briggs". I chuckled and I pointed
to where Jane's father was exchanging memories with
instructor Ark and Black Bear's mother. "That's one," I
said, "Instructor Tony Ark. They call him Slowbo. And there
is- I don't know her first name, would you believe it! This
is Instructor Slicker". Dad looked and suddenly his mouth
flung open. "Long-Nose!" he cried and rushed forward. I was
shocked to see him embrace Instructor Slicker (Long-Nose???
Slicker??? Bizarre!) and swings her up in the air. "What's
going on, mom?" I asked, "Slicker is right about the meanest
type of senile virgin I've ever seen". "How am I supposed to
know?" mom shrugged, "I never met her". Dad grabbed
Slicker's hand and pulled her towards us. "Oh no," I
murmured, "This is trouble. She said I remind her of herself
mom. Am I the same senile-biscuit-hot-iron-maiden type?". To
my immense surprise, Slicker was smiling - it was the first
time I ever seen a real warm smile upon her face. It almost
made her look human. "Melissa, meet Marilyn Tyler. Her
Callsign is Slicker but... everybody onboard the TCS Tyrol
called her Long-nose. It was because...". I didn't listen.
I've heard the story about that young pilot that drove her
Arrow through the nose antenna of TCS Constellation in one
of the most bizarre accidents I've ever heard of. But
somehow, I never got to associate between Slicker "The merry
little chap that always had a joke ready" and the grim and
almost cruel Instructor Slicker. Hell, five minutes ago I
thought it was her surname. Come to think about it, what
kind of surname is Slicker? But somehow I never made the
association. And then, Slicker (I could never imagine her as
Marilyn) laughed. It was so odd and out of context that I
nearly fainted. Slicker?? Laughing?? She was incapable of
laughing! Or so it seemed. "Marilyn always had a joke ready
for every occasion," dad said. "Oh yeah," Slicker agreed,
"You should have seen how I made fun on Connie's expanse. I
told her that she reminds me of myself". I felt the blood
run out of my face. It was a joke? Well it wasn't funny! "I
could hear her thinking," Slicker added, "I'll never be a
boneheaded bitch as you! I'd die first!" she laughed, "I
took the old bitch role this time". "The old bitch role?" I
asked, "This time?". "Oh, haven't you figured it out yet?"
Slicker chuckled, "it's like that in every course. One
Instructor is the Friendly and the other is the Deadly! You
see, Constance, to drive a pilot into excellence you have to
maintain a delicate balance between petting and pushing. You
can't be too easy or the pilot grows soft and sometimes
lazy. You can't be too hard or the pilot would buckle up
under the pressure. So there's always the Friendly
instructor and the Deadly old bitchy Instructor. I take that
role when I feel that I was smiling too much lately". "But I
thought you were-" I started and stopped before I'd insult
her. "You thought I was a cranky senile virgin," Slicker
said, "as most pilots do when I get that role. Ah, the sweet
smell of success". She kept on laughing and bringing
memories with dad and I started feeling a bit unrealistic.
It was too weird to be true.

It was the next morning. I had a hard time parting from Jay,
Terry and Jane. For two years, me, them and all the rest of
the ten cadets (there were more in the beginning but Confed
standards expelled four dropouts) were together. And they
were with me during the tougher period when mom and dad
refused to talk to me. And now, suddenly, I was on my way to
a new place. I dried my tears and climbed the ladder to the
Excalibur I was supposed to take to the Lancelot ("it's not
right" joked Jay, "Arthur should be getting the Excalibur
from the beautiful lady"). I made all preflight checks and
raised my thumb. "Comm check" said Titan, in the other
Excalibur. "Lioness, ready for takeoff" I replied. "Control,
You're cleared to takeoff Lioness and Titan. Good luck kids.
See you someday". I pushed the throttle forward with mixed
emotions. "Good bye academy" I called as I took off.

The first waypoint was a Fueling Station. Afterwards we had
three hours to fly the fighters to the Lancelot. We were
both silent. Titan and I were pretty much in stasis towards
one another during the last year. Actually, since the
argument we had after Panther arrived and especially after
the battle with the pirates we seemed to be more or less in
a cease-fire. He even helped me here and there though he
always struggled to have better records than I did. In the
end, he got the Course Excel and I admit I didn't like it
too much. So we were silent. Since I had nothing better to
do, I examined the Excalibur. It was yet the best thing
Confed had - A heavy fighter with the speed and agility of a
medium-light fighter. It had twelve missiles (and I chose
all the goodies they let me before the flight) and had
auto-tracking guns with immense firepower. I heard
Christopher Blair once said that it is the dream of every
fighter pilot and that he saw only one ship that was better.
He didn't elaborate so I guessed it was some sort of
classified fighter. Suddenly, Titan broke my concentration
from the wonderful fighter. "So, Lioness," he asked, "you
come from a whole family of pilots?". "Yes," I answered,
surprised and rejoiced from sudden change of my former
enemy's attitude. "During the Kilrathi war too?" he asked.
"Sure," I answered proudly, "my granddad got a golden star
from Admiral Sigrin herself!". "I understand that your
father was part of the last battle of the Middlesboro" he
said silently. I was suddenly on guard. This conversation
reminded me of the great stand we had a year ago. "Why are
you asking?" I investigated. The whole scene seemed to be a
muddy ground. "Just cause," he answered, but his voice was
choked as he added, "it was a famous battle". "My dad was
there," I admitted, "and it was a very tough battle". "I
heard about it," said Titan and his voice sound weird.
"Confed outnumbered the Borderworld force more than two to
one," I taught him, "there were very good pilots there. My
dad dropped one of them". "Maybe I've heard about him," said
Titan after a short silence. "Maybe," I admitted, "He called
himself Braveheart". "Really," Titan voice was as tensed as
a hunted jabbering moose, "did I ever tell you that my
father's last stationing was onboard the Middlesboro?"

The red light turned on and the missile alarm rang.  I
kicked the fighter to maximum speed and released half of my
decoys in mere seconds. "Breaking formation and going to
kill the daughter of my father's murderer!" said Titan.
After I got rid of all the six missiles he fired towards me,
I was already taking heavy fire from his Excalibur's guns.
The damage was already past the shields and was causing
damage to my armor. I did a slide maneuver. This means
turning off the inertial stabilizer and letting the fighter
pull towards its last position. I turned the fighter around
while it was speeding on its former course. I fired back at
Titan. My batteries were full while his were almost empty so
he had to back off or take heavy damage. I aborted the slide
and was soon on his tail. "You went get out of it" I roared,
angry and shocked, as my shots flashed on his shields. "I
took the liberty to break my flight recorder," he answered,
chuckling madly, "they'll never catch me for it". I didn't
care to waste any more time. I fired two Imrecs but he
ditched them easily. I never forgot how good he was. He
copied my slide maneuver and forced me to change position. I
fired my three FF missiles, hoping they'd recognize him as
hostile. My electronics told me that he took one but when I
felt his shots raining on my back I realized he simply flied
through one of them to sit on my tail. My fighter was now
badly damaged. "You won't have any proofs!" I objected,
"you'll get nowhere in Confed with that suspicion over your
head". I shook another salvo, a hefty attempt considering
the Excalibur's auto-tracking guns. "I don't care now," he
said and I realized he was crying, "Now, this is all that
matters!". His attacks grew fiercer and I maneuvered for
about a minute, taking some damage here, some damage there.
Finally I got him in my sight long enough to lock an Imrec.
The missile was shot from a very bad aim but it gave a
moment of relief. A short moment. After few seconds Titan
was advancing face to face with me after ditching another
one of my missiles. I checked my stockpile. I had three
useless Dumb fires and last two Imrecs. What could I do? I
knew the aim wasn't exactly superb but I had no other choice
so I fired my last two Imrecs. He ditched one of them easily
but the other one seemed to be determined as to its target.
It closed with Titan swiftly. Titan had no chance. He was
about get hit, had no chance and refused to evade. And the
missile kept its lock. It was almost upon Titan when
suddenly the Excalibur fired a short burst from its guns and
the missile blew up. Titan went through the blast,
untouched, and forced me to evade his last missiles. "Now
it's all over" he laughed insanely. I knew I couldn't eject
and couldn't surrender. I had nothing to do. I didn't have
any more guided missiles and he was in better shape. But-
wait a minute. Dumb fires are not as useless as may seem. I
managed to get face to face with Titan again, and fired the
Dumb fire when Titan was in the center of my sights. Of
course, the missile flew straight ahead, with no guidance to
warn Titan. He would never know what hit him...
The missile missed. It passed adjacent to Titan but didn't
hit him. Titan lost his wits for a second and broke but I
knew this moment won't last forever. However, that moment
would be all I needed. I fired  my last two Dumb fires
towards Titan's course. Abruptly, Titan's Excalibur was
gone, replaced by dazzling clouds of fire and a shower of
fragments of what was once a fighter.

Epilogue
I sagged back into my armchair. "It wasn't easy to live
with," I observed, "forget about the court martial. I had my
own flight recorder to prove that it was self defense. It
was just pure luck to meet with a pilot who had twenty years
to nurture his hatred towards my own dad. Look. I don't even
blame him for hating me. But he was over- no that's unfair.
Titan did what he did out of clear emotional distress. I
couldn't say for sure that had it been the other way around,
his dad killing mine, I wouldn't try to take on him... But
that's all speculations". The reporter nodded. "I did what I
had to do," I said, "else I don't think you'd be here making
a story about this new Pre-Academy school. But anyway. I was
cleansed from any suspicion and was stationed onboard the
TCS Spurance. It was an old ship but she still was
considered 'Risk Level A' which means I got what I wanted. I
got the Ace - fifth kill for the unfamiliar readers - in the
Ceti Uprising. After nine years, thousands of flight-hours
in my logbook, a Major rank and all the rest I was moved,
due to my own request, to a teaching position in the
Academy. I reunited with Jay then and soon enough we were
engaged. We both retired few years ago and opened this
pre-academy school. I think some of the pilots in the lines
today would still remember that old cranky senile virgin
Instructor Briggs but aside for that I got what Panther
liked so much - peace and quiet as an unknown character. But
still, since you asked if I had some interesting story to
tell you then... this is the only interesting story I have".
The reporter nodded again and mentioned that he works
onboard the CBS-13 Galathea. "She's been upgraded so many
times that you probably won't recognize her," he said, "but
still... I guess we... I owe you a bit for that. Now, I came
here to make a story about your Pre-academy school but I
don't mind saying that your story is a hell lot more
interesting. You wouldn't mind if I replaced the original
idea with this, would you?". "No," I said, "go ahead. But do
mind that you're a conspirator that wants me dead - Jane
would come all the way from Axius when she reads this and
send me whirling into the trash compactor". He chuckled and
said, "I can live with that". "Good," I smiled. We said
goodbye and he went out. Just before the door shut his head
suddenly cocked back. "Do you remember his name?" he asked.
"Who's name?" I asked. "Titan?" he claimed, "What was his
real name?". "Frankly," I rolled my eyes, "I don't
remember".

The end

Written/Translated by Ehud Gat.

January 2001 - February 2003


Reviews and Dictionary
Borderworlds: Review: The Borderworlds are a union of human
inhabited worlds. They have separated themselves from the
Confederation and refused to conform to the conventions that
the Confederation was based on. The Borderworlds have always
been allied with the Confederation, aside for the
short-lived Conflict (See Wing Commander Historical Review).
The relationship between the Borderworlds and the
Confederation are always edgy but usually they coexist
peacefully. Borderworlds residents may enlist to the
Confederation navy and Marine Corps.

Confederation: Review: The Terran Confederation (Confed for
short) was created as the Kilrathi appeared. The outside
threat that didn't differ one human from another forced
humanity to leave its grudges behind and unite. Following
the end of the Kilrathi War, the confederation remained
standing together.

Kilrathi: Review: The Kilrathi is a race of highly evolved
felines. Somewhat reminding the Terran tigers and lions, the
Kilrathi is a race of warriors. It is divided by clans. The
Kilrathi regarded humanity as inferior and tried to utterly
destroy it. The Kilrathi War (See Wing Commander Historical
Review) lasted 30 years and has ended only after Christopher
Blair (See Wing Commander Historical Review) dropped a
highly advanced tectonic device over the Kilrathi home
planet of Kilra that destroyed the planet completely. The
Kilrathi have distinct codes of honor and respect. They were
forced to stand down their fleet and their current plans
remain unknown.

Wing Commander Historical Review: The Wing Commander series
first appeared in the late 80s and changed the world of
computer gaming forever. Using the technology available at
that time Origin systems created a fine space-flight
simulator. While its tactical gameplay was well beyond the
standards of those years, what really caught the eye was the
script. Origin designers created a plot that was more the
kind of those long-hours quest games. The game was a great
success and Origin hasted to bring the sequel, Wing
Commander 2: Vengeance of the Kilrathi. While the first game
introduced you as a new pilot onboard the TCS Tiger's Claw,
W.C. 2 sent you, marked as a troublemaker, to the TCS
Concordia. W.C. 2 also introduced the world (or the universe
if you'd like) to the scary Shoklar cloaking fighter. While
in the end, you did clear out your name (Proving you're not
to be blamed for Tiger's Claw destruction) W.C. 2 did end
with the Concordia downed. And then came the surprise. While
W.C. 2 was fair game, it was far less stunning then its
predecessor. Origin systems swung about, took a few years
and released the W.C. 3: Heart of the tiger. And that's when
the series changed forever. W.C. 3 introduced, on four
separate CD-ROMs, a detailed, filmed, script. With its new
shining outfit, it's yet unchallenged tale, it's advanced
realistic simulation and its thrilling battles, W.C. 3
introduced the player to Christopher Blair. Played by Mark
Hamill (Widely remembered as Star Wars' Luke Skywalker), you
were no longer able to name your player (Though you still
chose the Callsign). With a certainly brilliant casting
(John Rhys Davis, Tom Wilson and Malcolm McDowell as Admiral
Tolwin for example) a well told tale and introducing the all
new Hellcat, Thunderbolt, Longbow and Excalibur fighters,
W.C 3 has brought the series back to the Olympus of games.
The game ended when you used an Excalibur and a special
device to 'rain fire' on the Kilrathi. Certainly seemed like
the end for many. But everyone knows that heroes and suckers
don't die. They just get replaced. W.C 4: The Price of
freedom brought the series to its peak - from where it yet
stands unchallenged. Retired Christopher Blair is confused
whether he's an earthworm or an eagle when he suddenly gets
pulled back to the cockpit. Through a thickening plot,
regrouping the excellent crew of actors from W.C. 3 and
introducing the best Space-Combat flight simulator ever to
be seen, W.C 4 led you phase through phase through an
impending conflict between Confed and the Borderworlds.
Since Confed actions smelled like a fish after a week on the
docks, Blair defected with his comrades to the Borderworlds.
Onboard the BWS Intrepid, along with the famed Tamara
'Panther' Farnsworth and the aggressive Jacob 'Hawk' Manley
the player was led through conspiracy to another until the
surprising end - where the Admiral Geoffrey Tolwin issued a
force of special fighter-pilots with frighteningly superior
weapons and fighters in attempt to improve humanity in ways
that corresponded well with Hitlerism and Blair was the only
one who could stop him and his force that was codenamed
Black Lance. W.C 5 - Commonly referred as Wing Commander
Prophecy threw all prior principals to the recycle bin. You
were thrown into the small shoes of a fresh 2nd lieutenant
named Casey that regarded Christopher Blair from afar while
waging war against a new and unknown type of aliens - the
bugs. As one could gather, throwing the principals that
brought its predecessor to the peak, W.C. Prophecy was a
blunt failure that shamed the series. I therefore chose to
ignore it during the writing of this story, feeling that it
was unworthy to be named Wing Commander. Aside from these
five games, Origin systems released a number of side-kicks,
such as W.C. Armada (that allowed you to control the
strategic part of the war, to play multiplayer games and to
play as the Kilrathi), W.C. Privateer that put you in the
cockpit of a 'Dealer' that was flying a rather
'unconventional' business. I never got to see Wing
Commander: The Kilrathi Saga so I can not observe what it
was. And last but not least: dropping all plots, Wing
Commander Academy was simply a swift battle generator that
was more an arcade game then a real-length game.

Weapons and Equipment:

Spiculum Image Recognizer Missile (AKA: Imrec or IR) - The
Imrec is a medium ranged missile with a large warhead that
is capable of taking most fighters out. As the name
suggests, the Imrec's guidance is based upon visual
recognition of the type of the fighter it deals with. It
locks quickly and is not easily fooled by decoys. The
Imrec's one flaw is that it is completely undermined by
cloaking devices. If the Imrec's target has been destroyed
or has disappeared before it had the chance to hit it, the
Imrec will sometimes choose a similar type of target, due to
its visual recognition methods.

Pilum Identify Friend of Foe Missile (AKA: FF, FOF, IFF) -
Sometimes referred to as Fire and Forget missile, the Pilum
is self guided. Using transponder codes to differ the goats
from the sheep, the Pilum automatically picks its target and
is guided by radar signals. Considered the 'smartest'
missile in the human arsenal, the Pilum is hardly ever
gulled by decoys. However, its intricate technology leaves
little space for explosives, making the Pilum a
comparatively-weak missile. Though it doesn't detect cloaked
fighters, the Pilum's tendency to choose alternative targets
make it a greater threat those fighters as it may lose its
lock when a fighter cloaks only to regain it when the
fighter decloaks.

Leech Missile - Though not reminded in this story, the Leech
is a highly advanced non-lethal missile. Originally designed
to collapse the enemy shields, Technological advances turned
this missile to a crippling mechanism. Guided to its target
by radar emissions, the Leech releases a massive burst of
Electromagnetic energy, crippling the enemy fighter and
usually completely paralyzing it. The leech is an uncommon
missile, due to its high costs.

Javelin Heat Seeker Missile (AKA: HS or Emissions-guided) -
Before humanity left Earth, Heat Seeking guidance was
considered a degenerated guidance in comparison to laser,
radar and visual guidance systems. However, in the cold of
space, where the fighter's heat emissions are generated
against a freezing cold background, Heat Seeking suddenly
took a giant leap back into the front of the stage. The
relatively simple mechanism left a lot of room for
explosives making the HS a deadly puncher. Its one main flaw
was that the Heat Seeking guidance had the tendency to leave
its target for a hotter spot - sometimes a nearby friendly.
The HS was upgraded to the point where it was only locked on
the central emissions projector: the engine. While it
hampered it's effectiveness for quick and easy locking, it
also became a safety that minimized the danger of friendly
fire casualties. The HS does hold a certain extra in it.
Interested only in heat, this missile is not affected by
Cloaking Devices.

Dart Dumb-Fired missile (AKA: DF, Dumb-Fire and sometimes
Retard-Fire). The DF is exactly what it sounds. It simply
goes straight until it hits or it runs out of fuel. The
Unguided missile is almost completely useless against
fighters, but it is highly effective against slow moving
targets. In place of guidance systems, the DF packs extra
explosives - making it twice as powerful as the HS or IR
missiles.

Torpedo: Capital Ships are big and strong. Fighters are
light and fragile. The torpedo is sometimes the only way to
take down a Cap-ship. It is a big, slow, relatively short
ranged missile that is guided by radar emissions. The
torpedo ignores fighters because it is unable to match their
speeds and turn rates. Every type of fighter that can carry
torpedoes is considered a Bomber.

Decoy: Shaped as the fighter that carries it, this device
emits false radar beacons that make it look like the fighter
that released it. Also radiating an immense amount of heat,
this is the imperfect yet best-available answer to missiles.


Laser Cannon:  There are numerous types of guns in Wing
Commander. The basic and weakest is the common Laser Cannon.
It fires a weak laser beam. Its only advantage is that its
draw on the gun batteries is relatively small, allowing
longer and faster barrages.

Particle Beam: Fires a stream of charged particles.
Considered to be the second weakest gun.

Ion Cannon: Fires a stream of accelerated particles.
Moderate damage.

Mass Driver: Projectile weapon. Fires a slow projectile that
shifts and twists mass. Relatively strong, this gun is
hampered by intense draw on the batteries and its relatively
slow speed that makes it easy to evade. Yet, getting hit by
this cannon is dangerously serious.

Plasma Cannon: Strong and fast beam weapon. Though it draws
heavily on the batteries, the Plasma cannon is second best
in its damage-rates.

Tachyon Beam: Second to none. Fires fast beams of tachyon
particles, this gun is a fast and deadly cannon. Batteries
are the only drawback of this gun.

Meson Cannon: Introduced only in the Thunderbolt. A strong
cannon that fires slow but immensely harmful shots. Heavy
drawing on the battery limits this cannon.

Scatter Cannon: Auxiliary Gun. Introduced in the
Borderworlds Banshee light  fighter, this cannon is can
replace the four laser cannons of the Banshee. It fires four
ion shots that spread from the axis of the barrel. Heavy
Damage, Heavy Drain.

Stormfire Cannon: Auxiliary Gun. Introduced in the
Borderworlds Avenger and Vindicator, this gun fires
immensely fast projectiles in a rapid 40/second firing rate.
Doesn't draw on the batteries but may run out of ammo.

Leech Cannon: Auxiliary Gun. Introduced in Borderworlds
Avenger and Vindicator. Electromagnetic discharges cripple
and eventually paralyze the target. Similar to Leech
Missile.

Fission Cannon: Auxiliary Gun. Introduced in the Black Lance
Dragon Fighter. The Fission is a charging-pulse weapon -
meaning you can strengthen the shot by charging it more
before release. The Fission Cannon is incomparably strong.
Its weakness lies in the charging time and the fact that it
is strong enough to rip the fighter's wing off if the
fighter did not ready for the massive recoil is powerful
enough to force-push the whole fighter backwards.

ITTS system: Identify Target's Track and Speed. This is the
common targeting system that was first introduced in W.C. 2
and lingered ever since. The fighter's computer calculates
the selected target's course and speed as well as the speed
of the guns, the target's distance from you and other
factors such as gravitational measures and the likes. Then
the computer flashes a green circle which is where it
advises you to aim. The ITTS system eases the targeting of
your gun fire. It is not flawless of course. If the target
changes its speed or course in time, your shots are likely
to miss but it still aids.

Auto-Tracking Guns: Mean addition to the ITTS system.
Introduced in the Confed Excalibur fighter and the Black
Lance Dragon Fighter. The guns have a rotational mount that
can spin them to meet with the ITTS' targeting data. The
auto-tracking guns system is flawless but it still meets
with the flaws of the ITTS system.

Cloaking Device: State-of-the-art. This device breaks
light-rays that hit the fighter and maneuvers them around
the fighter, making it practically invisible. In addition,
it adds an advanced Radar jamming device to make it radar
stealthy. Its only weakness is its draw on the engines that
forbids firing while cloaked. The last pilot who fired while
cloaked had his fighter overloaded and was torn to pieces in
an intense-heat explosion. Introduced in the Black Lance
Dragon Fighter and Modified Arrow Fighter, and was also
introduced in certain fighters onboard BWS Intrepid during
the Conflict. Originated in the Kilrathi Shoklar Fighters

Turrets: Computer Controlled Guns. Usually smaller then
their counterparts in the front of the fighter, the turrets
enjoy a separate battery and a decent targeting computer
that controls them. Though not as effective as the main
guns, the turrets are sometimes the only aid of a bomber or
a cap-ship against the swift light fighters. Though they can
target missiles, turrets are not to be considered effective
missile defense.

Fighters

Arrow: Confed Light Fighter. Swift and Agile. Sports two
laser cannons and two particle beams. The earlier versions
of the Arrow were equipped only with the laser cannons.
However, the fighter's superiority over its Kilrathi
counterparts, held the Arrow in service for over twenty
years. Upgrades have been made to the fighter. Carries eight
missiles in 4 hardpoints. Reports that the Black Lance
forces held improved Arrows with cloaking devices during the
conflict have never been proved.

Hornet: Retired Confed Light Fighter. Swift. Had two laser
cannons. Had a small payload of DF or HS missiles. The
Hornet was introduced in W.C. 1 but was replaced by the
better Arrow. The Hornet was not supplied with ITTS
systems.

Bearcat: Cancelled Confed Light Fighter. As fast as the
Banshee but as strong as the Hellcat. Also, it's two tachyon
beams and two particle beams enjoy the extra aid of
Auto-tracking guns systems. Was produced in small numbers
but was later cancelled due to high manufacturing costs.
Introduced in the ranks of Confederate enemies during W.C.
4.

Banshee: Borderworlds Light Fighter. Equipped with four
laser cannons and sometimes with an auxiliary scatter gun.
Carries up to eight missiles in 4 hardpoints. It's thin
armor and weakly shields are compensated by unmatched speed
and turning rate. A competent ship that is obscured only by
its low durability. As all Borderworlds fighters, it was
only introduced in W.C. 4

Dralthi: Kilrathi Light Fighter. Armament unknown. Proved to
carry certain types of missiles, usually DF and HS. Its
amazing speed is somewhat undermined by its relatively low
turn rate. A fair ship but that can sometimes meet the Arrow
or Banshee on roughly equal terms. Already introduced in
W.C. 1, the Dralthi gets the Survivor prize for its guest
appearance during W.C.4 and even W.C. 5.

Pirate: Pirate Light fighter. Armament unknown (apparently
four laser cannons). Missile capacity unknown. The standard
pirate fighter has nothing standard in it. It is inferior to
most fighters, due to the fact that it's being manufactured
from spare parts and cannibalized fighters. The Pirates
fighter is fragile, relatively slow and clumsy (For a light
fighter) and has low battery power that enables shorter,
weaker barrages. This inferior fighter was introduced during
W.C. 4.

Hellcat: Confed Medium Fighter. Sports two particle beams
and two ion cannons. Carries six missiles in two hardpoints.
Excellent medium fighter that enjoys the ability to enter,
fly and exit planet atmospheres. First introduced in W.C.
3.

Wildcat (Super Hellcat): Confed Medium Fighter. Sports four
tachyon beams and carries eight missiles in 2 hardpoints.
Its speed and turning rate match those of the Arrow.
Superior to any other medium fighter and can also function
as an excellent light fighter. Can meet up with any fighter
up to the Excalibur on at least fair odds. Equipped with a
cloaking device. This fighter is my own invention, and was
not part of the Wing Commander series.

Vindicator: Borderworlds Medium Fighter. The Borderworlds'
counterpart to the Hellcat is light and fast in comparison
but also suffers from weaker armor. The Vindicator also
outguns the Hellcat, with 2 Tachyon beams and 2 laser
cannons. Sometimes sports auxiliary Stormfire and Leech
cannons. It is the only known medium fighter to carry
torpedoes. It carries six missiles in 2 hardpoints and 3
torpedoes in other 3 hardpoints. The smallest fighter to
support a turret - it carries a small laser turret in its
back. Also, its turret is able use auxiliary Tractor beam to
tractor the escape pods of ejected pilots. The Vindicator is
not a ship to be taken light-headed. As all Borderworlds
fighters, it was only introduced in W.C. 4.

Shoklar: Kilrathi Medium fighter. The first known cloaked
fighter. The first known contact with the Shoklar was when a
wing of these fighters made a surprise raid on TCS Tiger's
Claw and destroyed it. Its armament is yet unknown. The
Shoklar has missiles but any data as to how much or what
type is yet to be recovered. The Shoklar's main drawback is
that its cloaking device was limited because it drew
directly from the gun batteries. The Shoklar made its first
appearance in W.C. 2. With the end of the war treaties,
Shoklars have disappeared and are unlikely to reappear.

Thunderbolt: Retired Confed Heavy Fighter. Known as the
Flying Coffin,  the Deathtrap or the "Bunch of guns with an
engine". Slow and hard-turning. The Thunderbolt's weapons
array is impressive with its two Meson Guns, Two Mass
Drivers and Two Plasma guns. Its missile payload is
relatively small, carrying a torpedo and six missiles in 2
hardpoints. It does sport a rear Mass-driver turret to
compensate of its inept turns but nonetheless it is
vulnerable fighter. First introduced in W.C. 3 but was
retired after W.C.4

Longbow: Confed Heavy Fighter: the famous Fat Lady. Slow and
heavy. Hold 2 Ion cannons and two plasma cannons. The
terrifying thing about the Longbow is its immense missile
payload. The Longbow sports 16 missiles in 4 hardpoints and
4 torpedoes in two hardpoints. Designed to take down
capital-ships, this bomber usually carries FF missiles to
shake chasers. Hold a particle beam turret in its back. An
competent ship that is beefed up with thick layers of armor
to compensate for its lack of maneuverability. Introduced in
W.C. 3 and 4.

Excalibur: Confed Heavy Fighter: State-of-the-art! 4 Tachyon
beams, auto-tracking guns, enviable maneuverability, 12
missiles, reputation. Most fighter pilots agree that if the
Excalibur could cook, they'd marry it. The Excalibur has
been the first ship to be modified with a cloaking device
(during the final desperate attack on the Kilrathi home
planet) but the primitive cloaking device was soon scrapped
for its deficiency. The Excalibur can not carry torpedoes on
its normal configuration but can easily and quickly be
modified to carry torpedoes or the tectonics device that
destroyed Kilra. Such modification comes on expense of the
missile hardpoints.

Gladius: Retired Confed Heavy Fighter. Old and obsolete
fighter.

Avenger: Borderworlds Heavy Fighter. A little more
maneuverable than the Longbow. Holds two mass-drivers and
two plasma cannons. Sometimes sports auxiliary Stormfire and
Leech cannons. Has only eight missiles in two hardpoints but
sports four torpedoes. The avenger is a fair heavy fighter.
Holds a mass-driver turret in its back that has the
auxiliary Tractor-beam option. During the conflict some
Avengers onboard the BWS Intrepid were equipped with a
cloaking device. Was used by Black Lance forces to frame the

Borderworlds in acts of war. As all Borderworlds fighters,
it was only introduced in W.C. 4.

Dragon: Black Lance Secret Heavy Fighter. Though never
admitted to exist, the 'Unmarked ships' were the only ship
to excel over the Excalibur. Superior speed and Agility.
Holds two plasma and two tachyon cannons and the frightening
auxiliary Fission cannon. Has auto-tracking guns. The Dragon
has two hardpoints that can support three missiles each and
two low-tech hardpoints that can only support
simple-guidance missiles such as Leech, DF or Heat-seeker.
Each of the Low-tech hardpoints supports 2 missiles. As well
the Dragon has two Torpedoes. Confed never admitted the
existence of these fighters as they were produced without
consent by the Malicious Black Lance forces. The Dragons
were the first human ships to really use the Cloaking
technology. Without the cloaking device, the Dragon will
meet the Excalibur on roughly equal terms. It was introduced
during the conflict in W.C.4

Final Note
About Origin Systems: I apologize for not knowing enough
about the company that brought the Wing Commander series to
the world. Origin prospered with the Wing Commander series
and the Ultima Sword-and-Sorcery series but was otherwise
pretty silent. Better quality over quantity, eh? It was
merged into Electronic Arts sometime in the late 90s.
However, I would never forget their motto: We create worlds.
That is something I can't argue about. This story had its
basis readied by other people. I'd like to thank those
people from Origin from the bottom of my heart.

I'd like to thank you best friend Noam, for introducing me
to the Wing Commander series and for his help with writing
this story.

To Dreaming, Kafta, Alon and Deirdre, all exiles from Sci-Fi
forum in nana for their unintentional help with creating the
original story.

To everyone who cared to look, listen, give in a good word
and help in any other way.

To Magic, my late dog, that was my aid during the writing of
the Hebrew original and during the beginning of the
Translation/Edition process. Magic was the only human I knew
that could send positive energies with his tongue.

To all the above and to everyone I forgot... thank you J