Sideshow Alley Page 7

As expected, Kyla ignored him once they were down, so Colin walked back alone and went to his quarters to refresh before lunch. On reaching the mess he got a meal from the servery and joined his mates.

  ‘So how’s Eric turning out, Tiddles?’

  ‘He’s a bit of a snot-nosed prick, but not a bad pilot.’

  ‘That sounds familiar. He heads out Delta Squadron, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah, we’re Red Delta One,’ Tiddles said, proudly.

  ‘They say the Lizards get a bonus for shooting down Squadron Leaders.’

  ‘So I’ve heard, but I’d shoot theirs down for free.’

  ‘Who do you fly with, Jimmy?’

  ‘Rolf, in Green Hotel Two—Barry’s in Red Kilo Three and Dave’s Green Lima Four.’

  ‘We’ll have to have a few beers together before this thing starts,’ Colin said, and they all nodded, knowing full well there was going to be blood spilled before their tour ended. As soon as they finished eating they returned their plates and sat back down with a coffee while waiting to be scrambled again. The siren wailed a short time later and the crews ran to their craft, leaving a mess on the tables for someone else to clean up.

  The afternoon was more of the same as they chased the drones around space and Colin found that by changing the frequency on his VDU he could monitor the other three sectors as well. It was a frustrating exercise—the drones remained unaffected, despite taking hits. Kyla responded well to his promptings and placed him wherever he designated, thus giving him the ultimate shot. In that sense they were bonding well as a team.

  When they were down again he made to go, but Kyla called him back, ‘Hey, wait up!’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing, but I thought we could use the time after each flight to talk, exchange ideas and air any grievances—that sort of thing,’ she said, as they walked out of the hangar.

  ‘I sort of thought the same thing this morning, but you frosted me.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that. It was only after you left that I realised.’

  ‘What? That you had to walk back alone or how it may look?’

  ‘Both really—does it matter?’

  ‘Not really—say, how come the lasers don’t affect the drones?’

  ‘They’re coated with some high tech rubber material that absorbs the energy.’

  ‘Then why don’t they coat the fighters with it?’

  ‘They tried, but it didn’t work. It alters the weight ratio too much. Remember, the drones are unmanned.’

  There was something else puzzling him.

  ‘The older fighters, I haven’t seen them in the mess for a while.’

  ‘They were beamed over to the supply ship before it left. It will take them back to the supply depot where they’ll be re-united with their pilots before being ferried to the front, to replace casualties there.’

  ‘What, their old pilots as well?’

  Kyla nodded, ‘Yes—it would mean dishonour for them to do anything else.’

  Her reply surprised him. He raised an arm at the turnoff to his quarters, ‘See you in the gym,’ he said, and hurried off to change.

  The gym was a welcome relief from flying around between The Rock and its sun. It was much cooler for one thing and they were able to stretch after being confined to the seat in the craft for so long. Colin had a word to his fellow fighters in Red Alpha before the game commenced. He devised a plan to use all three hits of the ball more sensibly to feed the fellows on the net and they in turn would slam the ball down to confuse the opposition. They didn’t win, but took it that much closer so that all players were satisfied with the result. When finished with the gym session they sluiced off with a well earned shower.

  That night the Fighters’ Mess was packed as more and more of the crews used it to unwind. They sat at the tables or else stood around in groups to talk about the day’s events while the hostesses did the rounds. A new addition in the mess was the cook from Xylanthes that Colin had spoken to days earlier—his name was Sami. He placed a blanket over the end table in the corner where the older fighters had sat and set up shop, selling earrings and souvenirs. There were also decks of playing cards and poker chips that were eagerly sought by the earthmen—and poker schools sprang up in the more well-lit areas of the mess.

  The wares were just a sideline—Sami’s main line of business was tattoos, plus razor-cuts—and he was doing a roaring trade. Barry was in the chair getting a tattoo of Phoebe on his right arm while potential customers looked on.

  Colin sat back and took it all in. He imagined that this was how it must have been with last year’s intake, judging by the tatts and razor-cuts he had witnessed on the older fighters. A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie and he looked up to see Queenie. He smiled and followed her through the crowded mess and then back to her cabin. Soon her thumbs were working their magic on his back to relax and make him drowsy. When she had finished he thanked her with a kiss before retiring to his own quarters to sleep soundly.

  The next morning the Team Leaders gave more lessons on tactics, followed by live footage to back it up. The monotony of the classroom was only broken by the sound of two-toned launch warning as it summoned the fighting craft into the ether before lunch.

  When they were back down again Colin waited for Kyla and walked back with her.

  ‘If we’re launching from our ship, where would the Lizard Carrier be in relation to it?’ he asked.

  ‘It won’t be far away. The Lizard fighters will be scrambling from below to intercept us and defend it.’

  ‘Then why don’t the two Carriers just slug it out?’

  Kyla looked at him strangely.

  ‘They do! We are the main armament. It is our job to eliminate the Lizard fighters and hopefully have a crack at their Carrier. That’s what it’s all about.’

  ‘Then why not send in a Battleship or something else?’

  ‘Because the Lizards would only do the same and the fighting would escalate,’ Kyla said, shaking her head, ‘it’s been that way ever since I can remember.’

  Colin sat with Tiddles and the boys as usual at lunchtime and took the opportunity to look around. He remembered back to the stark whiteness of the mess when he was beamed aboard. Now it was broken by the lines of blue coveralls the flight crews wore and then broken further by the skin tones of the individuals there. The different hair colours of the fighters’ added to the picture. Their blonde, ginger and dark locks had all been shorn and now contrasted with the jet black hair of the pilots’, which they wore regulation short-back and sides. All except for Kyla of course, who had longer shoulder length hair.

  Pee Wee also stuck out these days. He wore the orange coveralls assigned to the Karen on ship’s defence. Even though the Karen were smaller in stature than the earthmen, a larger pair of the orange coloured coveralls had been found for him. Over lunch he told those around him about life closed up in a gun turret.

  ‘For one thing the laser and rockets are so much bigger,’ he said.

  The news wasn’t welcome—for they knew that if they ever did get past the enemy fighters, there would be no joy to look forward to.

  Halfway through coffee the siren sounded to scramble them for the afternoon practice. Colin had been waiting for the sound. It meant the seconds were already ticking away to when they could relax after the frenetic chase around space while trying to corner the elusive drones. By the time they returned again they were covered in perspiration from the gruelling practice.

  Colin waited for Kyla when down again—there was something else that had been bugging him. While walking back he asked, ‘How come everyone onboard speaks English? Is it your native tongue?’

  The question took Kyla by surprise.

  ‘No, it’s not—although it’s spoken widely throughout the Legion Alliance these days. Besides, who said it was English—the way I hear it, the root language was introduced to your planet eons ago, although it has evolved a lot since then.’

  Colin stopped
at the turnoff to his quarters, ‘Then why do you speak it?’

  Kyla laughed, ‘Isn’t it obvious? Way back when they first started using fighters from Earth, the Legion realised the need for a common language between them and their pilots. Just imagine trying to teach an intake of fighters a new language on top of everything else, and all in ten days. No, these days it is a pre-requisite for us when we join the Legion, so you can see how widespread the practice has become. It is also spoken at the Legion Recreation Facilities, plus Commerce has adopted it as well.’

  ‘What about your names? Are they anglicised also?’

  ‘Naturally—you can’t have one without the other?’ she said, looking at him worriedly.

  Colin watched her go and then went to shower and change before going to the gym. Once there he rallied his team and allocated the positions that would suit them best. Jack was the other half of Red Alpha Five—a tall gangly red-headed youth and best suited to play on the net. He would be their spearhead along with Ben, from Alpha Two. Paul from Alpha Four had a shorter squat body and was destined to play mid field to feed the two on the net—which left Colin and Jake, from Alpha Three, to play on the back line. It worked well for a while. Jack dominated on the net until their opposition complained of their lack of rotation and then once it was Paul’s turn on the net their team got creamed.

  Later that evening Colin went to the library to look up strategies for fighter craft, both offensive and defensive. He studied them awhile before going on to the planetarium for the peace and serenity it offered, but Kyla was already there.

  He sat before realising her presence and then got up to go.

  ‘Stay, you don’t have to go,’ she commanded.

  ‘I didn’t mean to intrude, I just craved five minutes of solitude,’ Colin said, defensively.

  ‘How do you think we’re going so far?’ she asked.

  ‘According to plan I expect, but it should start to hot up from now on.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘The training has been pretty basic so far, and all about bonding. We haven’t reached our full potential yet or gone against a real opponent.’

  Kyla lounged back in her viewing chair and turned to face him in the darkness.

  ‘There are some things they will not be able to teach us. Some of us will go into battle and get blasted out of the ether on day one.’

  Colin peered outwards, ‘Does that worry you?’

  ‘It would be inglorious to have trained so hard and come so far.’

  ‘And yet that will be the reality for some crews. Do me a favour and don’t dwell on it. Just be the best you can on the day.’

  He stood up and made ready to go, ‘Do you fancy a beer?’

  ‘No thanks, maybe next time.’

  On entering the mess Colin sat and watched the interactions within it. A group of bleary-eyed Weapon Officers sat drinking while others opted to relax at the card tables. Sami sat patiently with his wares as Barry compared his tatt to Jimmy’s. They were both of Phoebe, who was busy escorting another lucky crew member back to her digs.

  There were six hostesses working the mess on any given night, and Phoebe was one of the hardest working. Groups of Zylon pilots sat and watched the movie, with only a few of the more adventurous taking advantage of the hostess’s generosity. Colin breathed it all in. This was his home for the next twelve months and these were his family. Queenie found him there and dragged him away.

  The next morning’s lecture was on formations and not surprisingly, rocket fire. They were informed that the drones were no longer the target. Instead they were to be deployed for their original purpose—that of relaying battlefield data. Command would also be using them to cause an enemy to appear on the graphics display, which they would then have to respond to accordingly.

  The news was followed by footage that had been spliced together for the lesson.

  When they were finally scrambled and formed-up there was only one drone in each sector showing on the VDU. A formation of blue lights appeared onscreen, so Kyla led her squadron towards them. Rockets were fired at where the phantom enemy was supposed to be and afterwards the blue lights dispersed further, so the wings broke off to engage them.

  In the afternoon the Team Leaders upped the ante and introduced multiple formations in each squadron’s sector. It brought more realism to the training and the battle screens lit up like a Christmas tree. But there were only so many rockets onboard and all too soon it was over and they were down again to clamber exhausted from their craft.

  ‘Now that sure as hell beats chasing drones around space,’ Colin said, and Kyla agreed.

  The next day was more of the same. It was already Day Eight and the Colonel had managed to meld the earthmen into a cohesive fighting force, with just two more days before they were transported to the front—although you couldn’t tell by the rowdiness in the mess that night. Everything was now done by numbers or else in a uniform way. Each fighter now belonged to a tight-knit group and the time for worrying was the morrow, for the next day which would surely come.

  The Last Days of Innocence

  Colin woke early on day nine and lay with his hands tucked beneath his head while trying to figure out what the Colonel would have them doing that day. Logically the ante would be upped again, but for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine how. The others lay sleeping still, lulled by the controlled environment—much warmer than the absolute zero temperature of space the other side of the Carrier’s hull. The duty watch piped the wake-up call and he watched as his friends tumbled bleary-eyed from their bunks.

  During breakfast he reminded them about having the get-together that night and the others remained silent when they remembered why they were doing it. He glanced over at Kyla and Eric sitting with their friends. These days Eric wasn’t so antagonistic towards him. Maybe it had something to do with the responsibility of commanding a squadron of his own or else that of Colin being elevated to the role of Alpha fighter.

  He turned to Tiddles, ‘Has Eric ever said anything about Kyla and me?’

  ‘He dismissed the rumour about the two of you as pure fantasy on your part. Evidently he has proposed to her.’

  ‘And she accepted?’

  ‘She said she’d give him her answer when the tour is over.’

  The news didn’t surprise Colin. He thought something like that was in the wind and he stared vacantly into his coffee while waiting for the day to begin.

  He didn’t have long to wait. Captain Jorgen and the Team Leaders arrived with the news there would be an extra set of bogeys appearing on the Battle Screen that day. The original blue ones were to be fired on by rockets only as per yesterday, while the new white ones were to be fired on by laser. The red ones of course, designated their own fighter’s positions. The crews remained silent while trying to absorb the scale of what was being said.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. All safety arcs are automatically computed, so you will be unable to fire if one of our fighters is compromised,’ the Captain assured them.

  A hand shot into the air.

  ‘Yes?’ he asked.

  ‘What if something happens to the drone? What then?’

  A smile appeared on the Captain’s face, ‘There would be no bogeys,’ he answered, and the crews laughed along with him.

  ‘Mind you, it can and does sometime happen on the battlefield, so you see why it’s imperative that we protect them. When it does though, it’s safer if everyone aims in the one general direction to avoid friendly fire. I’ll let the Team Leaders touch on that subject and others,’ he said, before handing over.

  Tom fronted the lectern and spoke first, ‘When you go out to meet the enemy, all you can do is fire a rocket at the leading wave to break them up and then close with them using your laser cannon, because that’s what they’ll be doing to you. Command is there to keep an eye on the pulse and remember—you have other fighters and wings about to help you out.’

  Colin inte
rrupted with a question.

  ‘We’re entering the battlefield as a squadron and then breaking into wings. If the Lizards do the same, is there a particular sequence to utilise our firepower while in formation?’

  ‘There is, but it’s seldom used,’ Tom replied.

  ‘Why?’ Colin persisted, ‘if you are going to use a rocket anyway, you may as well get the maximum bang out of it.’

  ‘Okay, listen up,’ Tom said. ‘This is an opportunistic tactic used by wings and above when coming into contact with a similar formation of foe. The Wing or Squadron Weapons Officer will nominate the target and give the order to load proximity rockets, then on his command they will all be fired at the same time. The Number Ones fire to the front, Number Twos to the left, Number Threes to the right, Number Fours above and Number Fives below—is everyone clear on that? The beauty of this tactic is that ARDs cannot be deployed. It is also one the Lizard’s might use on us, so be careful.’

  Another hand shot into the air.

  ‘Why use proximity?’

  ‘Because it’s designed to be used in that type of situation—the shot doesn’t rely on direct impact, it breaks-up when close to the target to bring it down,’ Tom explained.

  Vince took over from him and said, ‘Another of their tactics is to move between our fighters. They know that our weapons will not be able to fire because of the inbuilt safety factor and from there they will wreak havoc. If you are placed in that position, peel away and give the other crew a clear shot. Do not try the same tactic on them because they don’t employ the safety arc system and will fire anyway, especially if it’s a Wing Leader in their sights.’

  The lessons were backed up by relevant film clips until they were scrambled again.

  By now the wings had sorted themselves out and exited the mess in the order of flight—not like the unholy gaggle in the days prior. Once they were out and formed up Kyla led them towards the blue bogeys. Then once the rockets were expended the white bogeys persisted, so the session ran longer than usual.

  When down again Colin asked, ‘So how do you think the wing’s shaping up?’