Star Force: Origin Series Box Set (21-24) Page 11

  When the falcon approached the coordinates that had been transmitted to the Humans upon arrival they did a flyby, seeing several squadrons of aerofighters performing maneuvers around what looked like a bombing range to the east while others were busy with dogfights to the west. The northern and southern approaches were clear for the moment, so the dropship pilot brought them in from the south and circled around until they spotted a large open door on the side of one of the more sheer mountains, exposing a huge hangar bay inside.

  As the dropship approached it was literally swallowed up by the massive construct. Plains of open deck stretched out before them with hundreds of aircraft clustered in small groups sporadically spaced around the interior of the dome…with another massive, closed bay door on the other side, meaning that the hollowed-out chamber had to stretch from one side of the mountain range to the other. It was kilometers wide at minimum and was obviously designed to hold a great deal more occupants than it had at present.

  A tracking beacon led the dropship to the area of the deck that was being allotted for use by the Humans, tucked up against one of the support columns rising up to the top of the dome to keep the mountain from crushing down onto the hang deck. As they got closer Mark realized the column was much bigger than it appeared, and as they moved in to land a hundred meters away from it he also saw infrastructure imbedded inside in the form of doors and hundreds of windows stretching up the exterior.

  Just outside the doors were a group of 5 people waiting for them to land, so once the dropship settled down Mark and the other pilots slipped their filter masks over their mouth and nose and grabbed the first of their gear from the hold before walking outside into the planet’s native atmosphere.

  The world had plenty of oxygen to go around, up near 45%, but there were also a number of other gases mixed in that didn’t affect the Humans so well. If they needed to they could breathe the atmosphere directly, but after a few minutes of exposure they’d start to get a burning sensation in their throat and lungs that would build to painful levels, though it was said that it wouldn’t kill them.

  Star Force had designed the small masks that wrapped around the back of their heads and sealed over their mouth and nose to be as minimally intrusive as possible while removing the hazardous compounds from each breath they took. As Mark led the pilots from the dropship and over to the column he saw that three out of the 5 people in the greeting team also wore masks of some type, though these covered their entire faces. One of the two that was unaugmented stepped forward and spoke first.

  “Welcome, fellow pilots,” the four-armed Calavari said in the trade language, looking down at the smaller Humans. “We are pleased you could join us.”

  “I am Mark-084 and these are some of the best pilots Star Force has to offer,” the Archon said, his voice muffled by the breather mask. “We appreciate the invite…and the chance to test our strengths against your own.”

  “I am Vornac, and will serve as your liaison officer while you are here. This is Morhat, my wingman, and these three are Protovic pilots who were interested in seeing the newcomers.”

  “Dash’ti’ki,” one of them said, taking a step forward and holding its hand up in what Mark almost thought was the Vulcan V-hand greeting, except that the fingers weren’t right. The middle two were together with the others splayed out, but concealed within the body suit and helmet the Protovic was wearing the Archon could have sworn he was looking at another Human. “You are Star Force?”

  “We are,” Mark said proudly.

  “You do look like us,” Dash’ti’ki said, glancing over Mark and the rest of the Humans. “We are interested in seeing if you fly as well. We offer a challenge, when you are ready.”

  “Thank you. Once we get settled in and figure out how things work around here I’m sure we’ll be able to come to terms.”

  “Come to terms?”

  “We have rules of engagement that must be satisfied before we accept challenges, so I cannot officially confirm or deny until we get more information.”

  “And that you will have shortly,” Vornac assured Mark as he gestured one of his arms back towards the column. “Let’s continue this indoors, shall we? I can see that your race doesn’t take well to this atmosphere.”

  “Yours apparently does,” Mark said after nodding and following the aliens over to the door.

  “It is tolerable to us but not to the Cajdital, which is why we chose this planet. If they find us here they’ll have to equip their assault forces with envirosuits and they don’t typically carry a lot of them in storage, which would diminish their numbers if they chose to launch an immediate attack.”

  The triple-wide doors split apart, two pieces sliding laterally into the walls while the third middle piece disappeared up into the ceiling, giving them all easy access into a large empty room with a solitary terminal rising up out of the floor in the center. The internal architecture was all shades of red and orange, a stark contrast from the greys in the hangar.

  Vornac remotely closed the outer doors before triggering a whirlwind that nudged Mark off balance as the air was rapidly exchanged through a series of filters hidden within the walls. As soon as the violent windstorm began it died out and a light illuminated on the terminal.

  “The air is clear, with a mixture of nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide remaining. I believe that is satisfactory for your race?”

  “What percent of carbon dioxide?” Mark asked.

  “Same as the planetary atmosphere, about .5% and our air processors keep that ratio internally.”

  Mark slid his mask off and took a deep breath, held it, then released it slowly, feeling no ill effects. “We’re good,” he said to both Vornac and his fellow pilots that followed his lead and removed their masks.

  The Calavari used the terminal to open the inner doors, revealing an ovoid hallway stretched laterally that was decorated in more red and less orange than the airlock chamber, but the colors were still bright and a bit overbearing, giving the whole area almost a carnival feel to it.

  “This complex is for your use and is capable of holding 2,400 individuals. That’s how many quarters are present, though if you double up you could accommodate many more. We will accommodate you with whatever foodstuffs you require, though many races prefer to ship in their own,” Vornac said, leading them through the column to a three story tall room not far from the airlock.

  “This is your control center and will allow you to monitor all chambers within this column, as well as communicate with others and tap into the base’s external sensors, communications, and other systems. Don’t be afraid to wander around the system, safety protocols are firmly locked into place so you won’t be able to accidentally cause any trouble. The systems are all encoded in the trade language, of course, so there shouldn’t be any language issues. On the far side are the cargo areas, which I imagine you’ll want to start loading up from your transport?”

  “We have a lot more stuff to bring down, but only a handful of people. These are all the pilots I brought with me.”

  “What, just these?” Vornac asked, a bit taken aback. “We intended to train you an army of properly prepared pilots.”

  “These will be enough,” Mark said confidently. “We will learn and pass on what we know. Our territory is far from here, so we didn’t want to bring too many out on the first trip.”

  “Yes, of course, I’d forgotten. My apologies. Just know that this facility is not the only one allotted to you. We have many more should the need arise, so do not hesitate to bring in as many pilots as you can. As far as your introductionary information is concerned, there is a program installed on this terminal that will explain everything, which you can view at your leisure.”

  “If we want to go somewhere else, do we have to walk across the hangar deck or do you have an alternative means of transport?”

  “You’re certainly welcome to fly across to other locations if you wish, or go by foot, but we do have access corridors above the hangar ceiling
that connect all structures together. Also, there are communal structures up there for all to use. I suggest that once you get settled you take a while to explore the base before we get heavily into training. This is a home for all pilots and the Calavari want to ensure that everyone feels the same.”

  “Well, we’ll definitely take the opportunity to explore,” Mark promised. “Are there any specific training sessions or meetings over the next few days that you want us to attend?”

  “Everything is at your discretion. Join us when you feel ready. A full schedule of base activities and operations is available in the database, accessible from here,” Vornac said, laying one of his lower hands on a console. “You can also sign up for use of the Valeries remotely.”

  “Valeries?”

  “A type of starfighter that we have designed for the use of all Alliance pilots. You can, of course, use your own, but you’re also welcome to use a Valerie whenever you like.”

  “Operating controls?” Mark asked, glancing at Vornac’s four arms.

  “Modular to accommodate all races invited, except for the Hycre. They declined invitation so we didn’t modify any for them.”

  “Modifications for each race or one design that all can use?”

  “Forgive me, I misspoke. Had the Hycre attended they would have required different craft. The Valeries available to you can be used by everyone once you reconfigure the internal controls and environment to your race’s setting, easily accomplished within a few minutes.”

  “Interesting,” Mark mewed. “And where are these Valeries located?”

  “A neutral zone of the deck,” Vornac said, accessing the database and quickly pulling up a map and thrusting one of his four thick fingers at it. “We have several thousand available and do all servicing ourselves. The Calavari, I mean. That way other race’s pilots can focus on flying and learning while we handle the maintenance. We also offer fuel services for your unique craft, once we have the necessary formulas worked out. Some races prefer to keep that a secret, but the more redundancy we have in production across all our bases in the galaxy the better equipped we will be to fight the Cajdital.”

  “Ours is mostly hydrogen-based. I’ll send over the formula later, though we do intend to fuel our own craft.”

  “As you wish, but we will soon have a supply on hand should you require its use. We also are modifying the Valerie designs for construction by other races using resources plentiful to them and we will do the same for you if you wish.”

  “We like our skeets well enough, but we’re always on the lookout for new ideas to steal.”

  “A ‘skeet’ is your craft?”

  “Atmosphere only, but yes.”

  “What are your space-based craft called?”

  “We don’t use any manned ships that small in space. We rely on our warships for naval combat.”

  “Much as the Hycre do,” Vornac pointed out neutrally.

  “Our motivations are different, but there is a coincidental similarity there.”

  “What is your motivation?” one of the Protovic asked through its mask that it still had on.

  Mark leaned again the edge of a console and crossed his arms over his chest, expecting this to turn into a bit of a pilot’s turf war. “We accept the loss of machinery in battle, not pilots. In atmosphere starfighter pilots have a better chance of survival, even if they get shot down, and usually the guns they face on a planet are far smaller than those of a navy in space.”

  “The Cajdital have no such concerns.”

  “And we’ve found ways to beat them,” Mark countered. “Their starfighters are no match for our gunships because we designed them to take the enemy’s advantage and turn it against them.”

  “I would much like to see those battles,” Vornac said, “if you happen to have records?”

  Mark smiled. “We do, and I brought copies to study. I hope all of you have done the same. I’m interested in how the lizards have adapted to fight you.”

  “Lizards?” Dash’ti’ki asked.

  “It’s our nickname for the Cajdital. We usually don’t use that term with other races, but since we’re all pilots here I figured you’d have some shorthand terms of your own.”

  Vornac laughed with a booming tone. “I like you, Human. You speak like Calavari pilot. I hope you fly like one.”

  Mark glanced across his shoulder at Boen-497. “We’ll find out soon enough. Our skeets are coming down with the next dropship. Any procedures we need to know about before taking to the sky?”

  Vornac smiled, showing two rows of tiny teeth. “Our skies are free. Head out when you like.”

  2

  May 9, 2395

  Jartul System

  Daka

  With most of their equipment unloaded and their skeets being transported down from orbit in small shipments Mark left their complex in Kara-317’s hands while he and Boen, Sam Grind, and Iren-844 headed up the elevator in the support column they were inhabiting and exited onto a wide, bridge-like arching walkway large enough for a mech. It was all but empty, with only two other individuals visible at the far left end and a junction a decent distance down to their right.

  “Which way?” Iren asked.

  “Let’s start with what’s close,” Mark suggested, walking off to their right. “There should be some structures down this way, if the map was accurate.”

  “Guess we won’t have to worry about having to run around the flight deck in masks,” Boen commented, seeing the size and length of the upper walkways.

  “No, but this shallow arch is going to be fun,” Mark said sarcastically, knowing that running up it would be a bear considering that it was so long. Running down it would also be tricky, as your body would want to go faster than normal and it’d be easy to over accelerate and trip up your feet…but then again, what Archon didn’t enjoy a challenge.

  “There’s a door,” Sam said, being the non-Archon in the foursome, as he pointed ahead of them along the right wall where a small doorjamb jutted out a few inches as seen from the side. When the pilots got to it they saw it was closed but a small control panel held two crystal-like buttons, one red, one yellow, that according to their base introduction walkthrough stated was used in lieu of handles or latches.

  Boen pressed the red button, finding the deceptively crystal appearance to actually be slightly squishy. It glowed when he touched it, but the door didn’t open.

  “Twice,” Mark reminded him.

  “Right,” he said, tapping it again with nothing happening. He frowned and hit it two more times in quick succession, then the door opened in another tri-split, giving them access to a high-ceilinged room that held rows of pods along with a central display hologram that activated automatically as they got within proximity. It appeared that no one else was in the chamber, not surprising given the size of the facility, but it did feel odd that such a tech-laden room had no one using it.

  “This must be one of their simulators,” Boen said, walking over to one of the nearest pods and cracking it open…then quickly taking a step back and coughing as a wave of noxious gasses came out of the contained atmosphere inside the pod. “Oh…that’s nasty,” he said between coughs, trying to get the air out of his lungs and nose.

  Mark wrinkled his nose as a bit of it wafted his way. “Ammonia?”

  “That’d be my guess,” Boen confirmed. “Who else is nearby?”

  “The Gnar have their quarters nearby,” Sam offered. “And I think I remember the databanks saying they breathed a combination of oxygen and ammonia.”

  “The pods must have their own life support so the pilots aren’t encumbered by breathing gear when inside,” Mark suggested. “Just be glad that isn’t the communal atmosphere or we’d be the ones wearing masks everywhere we went.”

  “You think this area is set up for specifically for the Gnar?” Iren asked.

  Mark bit his lip as he thought, then walked over and opened another pod. “This one isn’t noxious, and the controls are different. Check
the others,” he said, reaching in and adjusting one of the control bars. The pod itself was huge, but the pilot’s controls were situated on a series of mechanical arms coming out of the back wall of the pod but with no seat. The ammonia-laced pod had had one, so Mark looked around to see if there was a modular version he could bring up out of the floor.

  He found a floor button and kicked it with the toe of his shoe, which broke open the floor beneath him and slid his body to the left as a chasm became exposed. Out of it came several more mechanical monstrosities.

  “Got another stinky one,” Iren reported from the other side of the room.

  “Clean up here,” Sam said from the second tier above them.

  “This is interesting,” Boen said from across the hologram on the ground floor from Mark. “This pod is configured as a two-seater.”

  “Y-wing?” Sam joked.

  Iren turned around and frowned. “Why haven’t we ever built one of those?”

  “We did,” Mark said, still trying to reconfigure his pod’s controls. “It sucked.”

  “Why haven’t I ever heard about that?” Boen asked, shocked.

  “Because it sucked,” the trailblazer repeated. “All bombers suck, so we don’t use them.”

  “Do we still have one tucked away somewhere?” Boen pressed.

  “Yes.”

  The Archon gave him a ‘why haven’t you ever told me about this’ look and shrugged his arms up in the air. “Where is it?”

  Mark sighed. “Along with the X-wing, A-wing, B-wing, and TIE fighter that we built. Paul’s got them stashed away somewhere.”

  “Are you serious?” Iren asked, desperately hoping he was.

  “Yes, I’m serious,” Mark said as his seat finally reconfigured into a chair design, allowing him to sit down as he adjusted the rest of the controls to his liking. “None of them worked as good as the skeets, and we’re not going to build inferior ships just because they look cool.”