raised from childhood for moments like these. Despite their working relationship, she had kept her distance through out the patrol. As his platoon sergeant he had learned to depend on her but never felt he had earned her personal respect.
"Aye, aye sir."
FLEET DESTROYER LYRE
PATROL AREA BRAVO
SOL STANDARD 11/09
HANGER BAY
1400 HOURS
Dasan paused as the doors to the hanger bay opened. This was the heart of the ship. The ship existed to transport Legionnaires and this is where they launched. The bay was filled with technicians, umbilical cords, and all manner of equipment floating in its zero-g. At the center of all the activity were the Legionnaire's fighters. Navy technicians floated around each ship, busy preparing them for flight. One-man tugs flew through the ships pulling sleds filled with torpedoes.
Dasan pushed himself off and floated in the zero gravity upward to his ship. She always looked so small. The Raptor III was a black glistening teardrop shaped ship, attached to the hanger bay by several umbilicals; she was almost lost in the huge hanger bay. Power lines, weapons lines, and information hookups were feeding his ship all that it would need for the patrol. His ships’ maintenance crew floated around the ship taking readings and making adjustments. Open panels illuminated their faces in pale green and red light. The movement around each ship appeared hurried, yet as precise as a well-trained ballet troop. Each man and woman knew their role and the roles of the others. There was no wasted motion.
As he glided upward toward s his ship, he marveled at her sleekness and design as if he were seeing it for the first time; his ship the glistening black teardrop that seemed to absorb light. It appeared dark and deadly, almost frightening.
There was an ancient saying that a ship flew like it looked. These fighters looked as if they were anxious to fly, anxious for their pilots, anxious for space and for battle.
Dasan placed his hand on his ships’ cool surface. It hummed beneath his touch. His crew chief had her tuned to respond to Dasan unlike any other maintenance crew had ever been able to do.
"She is just about ready Lieutenant," The Crew Chief said as she floated over to Dasan.
"Thanks, Chief." Dasan touched the top of the ship and a hatch dilated open. It would open for no one else. The plasma of his cockpit glowed soft green indicating the oxygen level had been perfectly balanced.
"Any problems Chief?" Dasan asked.
"Negative sir, she is ready. You are carrying the standard armament. She is locked and loaded. Ready to rock."
Dasan floated around the ship touching her here and there. Making sure the techs closed her up tight. Doing his own pre-flight, in the way pilots had done for centuries. Finally, it was time, time to mount up.
He floated up to the hatch.
"Ready, sir ?" the Chief asked.
"Yes, Chief ," Dasan said.
She saluted and Dasan returned the salute then turned his back to the Chief so she could connect him to his ship. The Chief's hands were gentle as she pulled the umbilical cord from the ship and plugged it into the I/O socket behind Dasan's right ear. Dasan closed his eyes as he was connected to his ship.
Instantly his world changed. Suddenly he was the ship. The ship was an extension of his senses and intellect. He felt the physical bump of the other ships through his ships radar. His skin tingled as his ship 's sensors read their electronic signatures. Dasan could "see" them clearly now. He could feel his power increase as the umbilical fed his ship directly from the Lyre's main banks. He heard the destroyer's computers downloading the mission briefing.
Dasan was only vaguely aware of the tech's easing him into his ship. He did not feel the plasma as they lowered him in and sealed the hatch. He relaxed and curled up into a ball. He inhaled deeply drawing the
"Aye, aye sir."
FLEET DESTROYER LYRE
PATROL AREA BRAVO
SOL STANDARD 11/09
HANGER BAY
1400 HOURS
Dasan paused as the doors to the hanger bay opened. This was the heart of the ship. The ship existed to transport Legionnaires and this is where they launched. The bay was filled with technicians, umbilical cords, and all manner of equipment floating in its zero-g. At the center of all the activity were the Legionnaire's fighters. Navy technicians floated around each ship, busy preparing them for flight. One-man tugs flew through the ships pulling sleds filled with torpedoes.
Dasan pushed himself off and floated in the zero gravity upward to his ship. She always looked so small. The Raptor III was a black glistening teardrop shaped ship, attached to the hanger bay by several umbilicals; she was almost lost in the huge hanger bay. Power lines, weapons lines, and information hookups were feeding his ship all that it would need for the patrol. His ships’ maintenance crew floated around the ship taking readings and making adjustments. Open panels illuminated their faces in pale green and red light. The movement around each ship appeared hurried, yet as precise as a well-trained ballet troop. Each man and woman knew their role and the roles of the others. There was no wasted motion.
As he glided upward toward s his ship, he marveled at her sleekness and design as if he were seeing it for the first time; his ship the glistening black teardrop that seemed to absorb light. It appeared dark and deadly, almost frightening.
There was an ancient saying that a ship flew like it looked. These fighters looked as if they were anxious to fly, anxious for their pilots, anxious for space and for battle.
Dasan placed his hand on his ships’ cool surface. It hummed beneath his touch. His crew chief had her tuned to respond to Dasan unlike any other maintenance crew had ever been able to do.
"She is just about ready Lieutenant," The Crew Chief said as she floated over to Dasan.
"Thanks, Chief." Dasan touched the top of the ship and a hatch dilated open. It would open for no one else. The plasma of his cockpit glowed soft green indicating the oxygen level had been perfectly balanced.
"Any problems Chief?" Dasan asked.
"Negative sir, she is ready. You are carrying the standard armament. She is locked and loaded. Ready to rock."
Dasan floated around the ship touching her here and there. Making sure the techs closed her up tight. Doing his own pre-flight, in the way pilots had done for centuries. Finally, it was time, time to mount up.
He floated up to the hatch.
"Ready, sir ?" the Chief asked.
"Yes, Chief ," Dasan said.
She saluted and Dasan returned the salute then turned his back to the Chief so she could connect him to his ship. The Chief's hands were gentle as she pulled the umbilical cord from the ship and plugged it into the I/O socket behind Dasan's right ear. Dasan closed his eyes as he was connected to his ship.
Instantly his world changed. Suddenly he was the ship. The ship was an extension of his senses and intellect. He felt the physical bump of the other ships through his ships radar. His skin tingled as his ship 's sensors read their electronic signatures. Dasan could "see" them clearly now. He could feel his power increase as the umbilical fed his ship directly from the Lyre's main banks. He heard the destroyer's computers downloading the mission briefing.
Dasan was only vaguely aware of the tech's easing him into his ship. He did not feel the plasma as they lowered him in and sealed the hatch. He relaxed and curled up into a ball. He inhaled deeply drawing the
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