Star Force: Augmentation (SF22) Read online

  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 overaccelerate 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 he 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.”

  “I wonder if Kara knows about this,” Boen said, throwing a glance at Iren.

  “What else did you guys build?” Iren asked Mark.

  “Optimus Prime,” he said deadpan. “Ah, there,” he said as the canopy on his pod began to lower down to cover him and the surrounding space big enough to fit a couch.

  Iren and Boen exchanged glances.

  “No they didn’t,” Boen said, with Iren nodding his agreement.

  Inside the canopy it was dark aside from the illuminated controls until a hologram formed around the spherical covering that showed a decent representation of the grasslands outside, fixed in place rather than moving underneath him as if he’d been flying. Directly in front of his odd assortment of controls a menu flashed up written in the trade language offering Mark a plethora of options that he had to concentrate to read through, with some of the terms not registering in his mind.

  When he got to the craft selection option he stopped there and began cycling through the presets, seeing that there were over 160 craft already programmed in. He sifted through them until he came to the Valerie, then pulled up the flight control schematics for the stub-winged fighter. While the mechanics of the craft were a bit different than their skeets, they still had the same basic functions and he was able to maneuver the control arms around into a more or less familiar arrangement, knowing that he could tweak it later. Right now he just wanted to get behind the stick…or in this case, roll bars.

  On his holographic HUD another icon appeared, tagging a pod that had just come online. Mark tapped his earpiece and opened a comm line to the other three pilots. “Who else is in?”

  “That’d be me,” Sam said. “Don’t know what’s taking the other losers so long.”

  “Dude,” Boen’s voice came back over Mark’s earpiece, “you just called yourself a loser.”

  “Did not.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Iren confirmed. “Mark, you want us all in?”

  “Yes please.”

  “Why didn’t you say so,” Boen complained, marching over to an open pod. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back out.”

  “I’ve found the Valerie,” Mark went on. “Everybody load it up and try to get the control arms situated so they’re useable.”

  “Whoa,” Iren said, his voice raising in pitch. “They’ve got some sweet holos. Way better than ours.”

  “What makes you say that?” Mark asked.

  “The battle graphics are insane…or, wait. Maybe that’s a recording of outside the base. Actually, I don’t know. As soon as I got in it flipped into display mode and I’ve been watching about 25 fighters throw down.”

  “What kin
d?”

  “Valeries and Bsidd fighters, if I’m seeing this right. They’ve got some crazy weapon systems.”

  “Oh?” Boen asked.

  “Later people,” Mark said, cutting off a response. “Everyone get to the main menu and bring up a Valerie,” he said, tapping one of the now three icons present. Instead of data on that pilot he got a game prompt instead. After a moment’s inspection he realized he needed to choose a simulation before he could bring others into it.

  “Ok,” he whispered to himself, selecting the default map of the base and the surrounding area, then he tagged the other three pilots, turning their icons yellow. One by one they turned red as they accepted the invite, then Mark set the simulation in motion without choosing any other options. Suddenly his view changed to the interior of the Valerie, which was hovering above their base looking down at the mountains below.

  “Everyone else in the sky?”

  “Right behind you, diamond formation,” Sam reported.

  Mark looked around, then found his point detection sensor display, seeing the three other fighters sitting behind him in a ‘V’ formation, making him the tip of the diamond. “Got you. Break up and see if you can fly in something other than a straight line. We’ll play tag later.”

  “Copy that,” Sam said, dipping down below the formation before awkwardly scooting forward and off to the left. The others broke away from Mark, who held position for a moment to let them get clear before he started playing with the anti-grav controls, finding that he could roll the ship front to back or side to side with ease as if the gravity drive was located dead center in the ship…or else they had some sweet computer control to balance it out.

  Mark’s Valerie danced about in place for several minutes, then the dagger-like ship accelerated ahead with its reverse wingtips cutting into the simulated air making 4 brief contrails. As the ship’s speed rose its shields visibly altered shape, making the already aerodynamic craft into more of a needle, allowing it to slice through the atmosphere more efficiently. Mark though the shields were computer generated rather than actually being visible, but when dealing with other races’ tech it was hard to be sure.

  “Guys, are your shields opaque or invisible?”

  “I haven’t deployed mine…not sure where the button is either,” Iren answered.

  “I didn’t use a button,” Mark explained. “They must have auto-activated as I accelerated.”

  “High speed shields?” Boen asked.

  “Yeah, but I can see them. Not sure if that’s the computer or what they really look like.”

  “Anyone else think these things fly weird?” Iren asked.

  “Define weird?”

  “Aft heavy.”

  Mark turned his Valerie through a long 180 degree turn, then wiggled back and forth getting a feel for the craft. “I see what you mean. The nose seems so light it has a mind of its own.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Hold on,” Boen said. “There’s something here about balancing the anti-grav…yeah, there we go. You’ve probably got it all in the rear. The adjustment slider is on my left, if that helps anyone.”

  Mark looked around looking for a slider and found one down by his right foot. He read the label and figured that was the one his fellow Archon was referring to. He adjusted it to the midpoint and found that the squirrely nose of his fighter settled down considerably.

  “Good catch.”

  “I have my moments,” he answered pithily as another icon lit up in the corner of Mark’s map in yellow alongside the three red icons for his fellow pilots.

  “Looks like someone else wants to play,” Sam noted.

  “I see that,” he said, reading the name tag he didn’t recognize. “Form up, we’re about to have company.”

  Mark pushed the button, turning it red, and a 5th fighter appeared in the simulation.

  “I see you’ve found one of our simulator rooms,” a voice said through the pod’s comm system rather than the Human’s earpiece. “Allow me to walk you through the basics. The Valerie is our standard fighter, but it has some uniqueness to it that takes a while to master.”

  “Who is this?” Mark asked in the trade language.

  “I guess you haven’t learned to read yet,” the voice said, laughing. “I am Lorsar of the Calavari. My user icon has my name and other data attached to it. I see you four are using generic templates.”

  “We’re just exploring the system,” Mark explained. “We’re not up for any simulated combat yet.”

  “I didn’t expect you to be, but if you’ll rendezvous at my position I can teach you some of our standard combat maneuvers, then you can adapt them to your liking.”

  “Can you start with a demonstration? We’re having some trouble getting used to the controls.”

  “As you wish,” Lorsar said, kicking his Valerie upside down and dropping towards the ground at high speed. From there he went through a series of basic maneuvering, giving the Humans a good idea of the ship’s movement profile, then he worked up into higher levels of flight, demonstrating that he was no average pilot and that the Valerie was a formidable craft to fly against…then again it had to be if they were supposed to counter the lizards’ nimble fighters.

  From there they moved to basic paired flight and maneuvers, which showed Mark that the Calavari definitely had their tactics nailed down. Lorsar told Mark how to bring in computer-controlled targets, since he was the one who initiated the simulation, and they practiced a bit with the firing controls before enabling them to shoot back. The spherical targets fired off plasma bursts that registered as hits rather than damage, with a tally number in the upper left hand corner of the HUD.

  Lorsar worked them up through the most basic of settings until they started encountering resistance, then he began giving them a few tips on how to approach the targets using the maneuvering capabilities of the Valeries. That got them up another two levels before they called an end to the simulation and cracked open the pods.

  To Mark’s surprise there were several individuals from different races standing around, watching their progress on the central hologram. Among them were the Protovic, still clad in their full body suits. Across the hologram from Mark another pod opened, this one revealing a Calavari that had to be Lorsar. He stretched out his four arms and the Archon heard at least one joint pop in the process.

  “They’re not bad,” he announced to the group of onlookers. “Once they get adjusted I think they’ll do fine. I saw their own ships on the deck this morning, front heavy, so cut them some slack.”

  “We are merely here to observe,” one of the Protovic said. “Not to judge.”

  Sam slid down from the second tier on the smooth side of two poles down to the floor and joined the other Humans in a tight knot while the rest of the crowd had them surrounded. Mark didn’t say anything, but just looked them all in the eye, trying to judge their demeanors.

  “If you can get us the schematics of your own vessels, we can load them into the simulation,” Lorsar offered, “though I think in the long run it’ll be better if you learn to fly the Valerie.”

  “We’ll do both,” Mark stated, crossing his arms over his chest. “But for the moment I’m going to take some of my other pilots up in the real air for some maneuvers. I’m sure there’s some cameras around here for you to monitor our progress. We’ve also got some target drones to deploy so we can have some live fire exercises. After that I’d be interested in hearing your assessments,” Mark said, gesturing to them all.

  “You think your ships are superior?” a Protovic asked.

  “Don’t know yet,” he answered honestly. “But I’ve put 300+ years into the design work, so I know they’ve got more in them than you’re assuming.”

  Lorsar crisscrossed all four of his arms. “You helped design your fighters?”

  “I helped create the original and have been refining the design ever since.”

  “300 years?”

  “And change.”

  �
��How long do Humans live?” Lorsar asked.

  “As long as we want,” Mark said evenly. “Those who don’t train last about 100 years.”

  “How old are you?”

  “377.”

  “And the rest of you?”

  “These two are over 300,” Mark said, pointing to Iren and Boen. “Sam is…”

  “Only 121,” the Star Force pilot answered, “but I can still keep up with them for the most part.”

  “That makes you three among the oldest pilots we have here,” Lorsar informed them. “The Kitot have 5 that are over 636, but I know of no others 212 years or older.”

  “They don’t fly that well for being so old,” another Calavari noted.

  Lorsar held up a hand to stop further comment. “Let’s observe them in their own craft first. I am interested in seeing what you’ve built, Human.”

  “Happy to oblige,” Mark said, leading the other Humans through the middle of the group of onlookers and out of the simulator complex.

  3

  Mark climbed up into the open cockpit of his personal skeet, painted in the yellow/chrome color scheme similar to the Naboo starfighter from Star Wars, and slid his right leg over the pommel, feeling the familiar seat and chest rest as he straddled fighter and triggered the canopy to slide shut with the press of a button. When the internal atmosphere recycled, taking the harmful gasses out of the air, he pulled off his breath mask and tucked it in a small storage compartment underneath his right arm then gripped one of the ball-like joysticks in each hand down below the control board that was set just in front and below his chin.

  Above that was the HUD, with both a video screen and a holographic display having replaced the previously see-through canopy. Now the pod was completely enclosed in an armor-hard carapace to protect the pilot and the visual navigation was all handled by relay from external cameras and sensors. It had been a bit disconcerting when Mark had implemented the design change, but they’d included more than 2 dozen micro-cameras around the hull, meaning that the most likely way a pilot would lose visuals would be if the craft completely lost power…during which they wouldn’t be able to maneuver anyway.