Chapter 14

ERIC

The third day’s gathering had changed from the previous ones. There were significantly less people there, and there was no need to meet up in the hangar bay. Instead, a room was booked for the couple hours it would take. He took a seat in the second row; it seemed he was one of the first ones there.

“Rumours are going around that there’s a Gaalsien onboard,” he overheard from behind.

“So I’ve read,” another replied.

“Is it any good?”

“Yeah, actually. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be, exactly. Stories, probably old ones.”

“Can the Gaalsien be trusted, do you think?”

“Don’t ask me, man, I just do what I’m told and hope things don’t get any worse than they already are.”

“I hear you there.”

Eric had done more writing, and he overheard conversations about the short bit he had distributed. It came as a surprise, really. He also figured people wanted a distraction, and any would do. He just so happened to provide one at the right time.

Isabella Manaan entered the room and set up at the front. She was shuffling through several pages, seeming lost. She yawned, and sat down to read for the next ten minutes until more filled the room. “Mark’s gonna be skipping out today, asked me to cover for him. Not much to do anyway, I have your squadron assignments and results from the short test you all took yesterday. Good to get that out of the way quickly.”

His desk’s screen got a ping and he checked his results. Impressed with it, he felt more confident about this whim to join the pilots. He was assigned to Mark’s squadron, only under his first name which came as a relief. There was another Manaan, Carol, and Henry Kaalel.

“Carol, Eric, and Henry are with Mark and I in Red Squad. Jerry’s in charge of Green Squad, Farida’s heading Blue Squad.”

The file had the lists. He knew none of them, but he knew Jeroll Sjet was a renowned pilot, As for Farida Manaan, she was from a southern tribe who often traded with the Paktu over the sea by airplane.

“Three interceptor squadrons. All but three Arrows were scrapped because of how ineffective they were in combat. Good for running away, but we won’t be doing that, now will we? So, What I’d like you all to do for the next twenty minutes is to group up and talk amongst yourselves.”

He got up and walked to the front. “Name’s Eric, hello,” he said to Carol and Henry.

“Not to be rude, but isn’t it kind of against the unofficial code to fraternize with fellow pilots, for obvious emotional implications?” asked Carol.

“It is, but there aren’t that many of us left. It worked on Kharak where we were pawns to be replaced at need, but now we’re the primary line of defence. Those onboard rely on us to protect them, however we can.”

Eric nodded. “Feel like filling us in to why Mark’s not here?”

“Personal troubles, he’ll get over it. This week’s been hard on all of us.”

“Inspiring confidence already,” he said.

“We’re only Kushan,” Henry added.

“Besides, there’s not much that I actually have to do today,” she added. “You have your squads, you’re among the fifteen picked so far, meaning you’re either the most qualified, or the quickest learners. Leonard’s looking into any former pilots among Mothership crew members, but it will take time. We don’t have time.”

“Not to mention Khar-Selim and the loss that went with it,” Henry said. The majority of the police force and military officers were onboard the support vessel in a joint exercise between the Sjet, Soban, and Naabal. The crew would have to work to establish the viability of long-term space travel and the effects of this on physical and mental health. While there were military personnel onboard, it was nowhere near the amount that would have otherwise been present would everything had gone as planned. If a riot broke out now, it was unlikely there were enough officers to stop it. The fate of their people truly was up to each and every one of those remaining.

“Say we did have the support vessel’s crew, what effect would that have had on pilot support?” Carol asked.

Henry answered: “Not much, honestly. From what I’ve gathered, it had no pilots onboard, because there wasn’t a hangar to launch fighters, so why bother with one? Scaffold had most of our pilots and a significant number of officers still onboard. Most essential crews transferred over before initial launch, but as there was no guarantee the jump would succeed, not everyone was put onboard right away. I mean, the main sub-lights aren’t even online, for Sajuuk’s sake. The ship can jump but it can’t walk, and who knows what other systems are in need of a tune up after the few jumps we’ve made already.”

“You sure know a lot about this,” Isabella said.

“My cousin and sister are scientists onboard,” he said. “Research never interested me. Science is cool, but math isn’t my thing. Besides, we’ve got enough Sjet onboard to handle it.”

“I’ve always wondered if Karan can actually feel the ship, you know? Or if she’s listening to everyone onboard. I wonder what it’s like to her.”

“That part I couldn’t tell you, only she would know.”

They talked about where they were from, stories of their past, and Eric simply listened. He hadn’t a thing to share with these people, or he felt there was no way he could. Isabella noticed and gave him a look, but didn’t ask him to share.

It was Carol who asked him first. “So Eric, what did you do before all this?”

“Well, I’m the garbage man, if you want it simple. I get access to more floors of the ship than most, but trust me, there’s nothing interesting on those floors. Mainly it’s so nobody breaks anything important that they’re not trained to operate.”

“No, I mean before that, before Mothership.”

“Scaffold is where I’ve lived for the past couple years, didn’t do much there either, it’s really kinda boring, if I’m being honest,” he said. “And before that’s more of the same.” He didn’t feel up to sharing that he’d move and refuel fighter jets for terrorist organizations.

He took his seat after the twenty minutes were up, and the Manaan girl continued with her lecture plan. She went over some basics, projected a cockpit in the middle of the room and made sure they knew at least the important components, then worked up to more complicated controls. She explained them more based on how many could answer her, adding in comments as to whether or not it was important to remember. Most weren’t, but often some were. Engine controls, for example, were abundant. The torch drive that the small fighters used was experimental. If they didn’t understand specific warning lights, their ships could explode. Nine emitters functioning in parallel of three per fuel line. If an emitter got too much energy, it could burn out. If it didn’t get enough, it meant a possible buildup inside the ship, and it could blow up. He grasped the basic concept of it all, it wasn’t as simple as jet fuel.

Some systems, like sensors, weren’t that important to keep a constant eye on, because if one interceptor’s sensors were busted it would still receive information from its neighbours at short range. Generally the ship is designed to tell its pilot when something is wrong, it was only up to understanding what the warnings meant. As in when to cut out a fuel line and slow down, or when to perform emergency burns to vent out excess buildup in the lines.

“You’re a meat bag strapped to a fusion reactor and a real big gun. Your ship is pressurized and has life support but your helmet and suit work as failsafes, therefore, not a primary system. Engines, weapons, and inertial dampeners. Everyone’s gonna want or need to make those sharp maneuvers that, were it in an atmosphere, would rip your craft and yourself to pieces. The dampeners keep you—the meat bag—from becoming a pile of mush.”

She went on with a brief description of the software on the ship and how to modify the HUD to their preference, and concluded with that. “We drop out of hyperspace in two days, be prepared. We’ll be in the hangar again tomorrow and the day after to familiarize you with your ships.” He got up after most had left, but she stopped him. “Eric, wait up.”

The room emptied, and she shut the door. Going back to her bag, she took out a booklet. “This is you, isn’t it?” She handed him a copy of his first print out. He had distributed a few dozen more copies around after the first run.

He replied: “Do you know of any other Gaalsien onboard, because I don’t.”

“It’s good. Great, actually.”

“I have a vivid memory,” he said.

“I’ve kept a few old tales of my own, if you were interested. Nothing special, only short ones I liked enough to note down.”

“Yeah, actually.” Smiling, he asked her if she could send it to him as soon as she could.

“Let’s go get ‘em then. You know where I live. Also, you saw nothing that day, clear?”

He shrugged. “It’s not my business or my interest who’s involved with who.”

“We’re not—I mean, it’s complicated.”

“Still don’t care,” he said.

They left the room heading to an elevator. Two floors after they got on, to their surprise, Jasiid found them. “Well this is strange,” he said. “What’s going on!” he said giving her a hug broken by her pushing him away annoyed.

“Hi there, Jay. How’ve you been holding up, clearly no different than the usual,” she said.

“Well, I try not to feel down. Doesn’t help me or anyone around me, so why bother? Besides, I’ve had nothing for a long time I still have more now than I did before, so I guess I have nothing to be grieving over.” He admired his high spirit. He hadn’t seen him since their run-in.

“Eric, was it? How’d you go about meeting this short bundle of crazy?”

“Uh, I’m in training to be a pilot in her squadron,” he said confused. He was unaware the two knew each other, but he wasn’t paying attention to begin with either.

“He’s Mark’s second wingman. Just finished up a meeting with the pilots for the three squads that we have so far,” she said.

“Huh, well, congratulations! I’ve got my own ship. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned this, but I’m a pilot on a Porter. It’s a sturdy box of a craft, that’s for sure. Listen, I’d love to stay and hang out, but I’m on my way to meet up with my engineer, Bradley. Nice guy, should meet him sometime. I’ll see you around,” he said getting off.

“Where’d you—”

“On Scaffold before boarding. Barely know him, he seems rather upbeat.”

“He’s also made it his job to out-annoy me. So far, he’s winning.”

They didn’t spend long in her room; she got what she needed and followed him.

“Mark’s been in a rough mood today, best not to wake him up.”

He opened the door, and was immediately hit with the smell of printer ink, having been made more copies of the story collection. “I really should start printing out download cards instead,” he said. She nodded, taking a seat at his desk. It took her only a few seconds to copy over the file. “Technological convenience. It’s still fascinating to me, but that’s probably from growing up in a desert. Very low-tech.”

“Hey, don’t forget where I’m from, you know. None of this crap works out in the sand seas. Dirt and dust would get into everything eventually. Most of the broken tech we’d auction off to scrappers when we went north.”

“Hot sand to cold steel. I’m still not used to the shift,” he admitted. The internal climate was regulated far cooler than he was used to.

“I wish I could find a way to turn my floor into a heated sandbox. I think I’ll petition for it.”

He opened up the file once she gave up the chair. She took a bundle of pages to read on his bed as he worked. It was fascinating, a few of the stories were almost identical to ones he’d heard before. “I can use this,” he said more to himself than to her. “So familiar.”

“We occasionally picked up a few Gaalsien over the years. They came and went, brought with them stories and wisdom. You know, the old types who never shut up about their past. Most never paid attention to them, but once you did, man did you learn.” Lost in thought, she seemed to daydream of it. “What’s the one thing you would want to have from Kharak?”

He started, but stopped to think about it. “The contents of Saju-Ka’s library before it was destroyed, I’d even settle for excavated scraps, really.”

“I met an old woman once, said she had been there. Didn’t believe her though, the place is a legend.”

“Believe it. It was my home for thirteen years. Thousands died, including my parents.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be, it was ages ago. It’s Mark I’d have a problem with, if anyone. I don’t, of course, but his father…”

“I’ve heard Gaalsien talk about him many times before.”

“I think the figure thrown around is fifteen thousand. He’s responsible for fifteen thousand Gaalsien deaths. It’s hard to forgive that, no matter what your clan allegiance is like.” She nodded.

“Mark’s not his father,” she said.

“I know that, it’s just not that easy to move past, but I’ll get there. I respect him a great deal based on what I’ve heard since this all began.”

It was a quiet afternoon for them, she read silently as he continued to write. And whether he wanted one or not, he had a friend now.