Well, it took me a few days to write, but here it is. It's a little story about a new human pilot having a conversation with a commander.
I might turn it into a little series
"So, you're fresh out of recruitment, are you?"
The Ensign turned around to see who was asking, and immediately snapped to attention when he realized the man standing in the doors of his new quarters was the Commander.
"Sir, ye', sir, just arrived from Murdock colony, sir."
The Commander casually returned the salute. "At ease, buddy. I see you were under captain Malley, am I correct?"
The Ensign relaxed. "Ye', sir."
The Commander chuckled. "Thought so. Well, we're not too tight on protocol here. You done unpacking, Ensign?"
"Ye', sir." The Ensign nodded. The Commander gestured to follow him and walked down the corridor, the Ensign following.
"I always thought Malley was a bit strict on discipline," the Commander continued. "But I guess it's necessary when you're leading a rebellion in
a captive system against a thousand-to-one odds."
"Ye', sir, when ye'r fightin' AI shock troops with hull cutters an' minin' drills, good discipline will go a long way, sir."
"Indeed." The Commander smiled, amused. "That, and a pinch of crazy. Just like we like around here." he said as they reached the exit to the residential part of the station and entered a larger arterial corridor.
The station was huge; the center of an even larger cluster of interconnected structures, factories, shipyards, fabricators, refineries, laboratories, power reactors and innumerable other things, all combining into a massive buzzing beehive of activity. The orbital citadel that was Home Command was the nerve center of the human military, orbiting the planet Ardel Prime in the Ardel system, humanity's only remaining inhabited planet.
"And there's no need for the sir-sandwiches, Ensign. As I said, we're not too strict on discipline here."
"Ye', sir." replied the Ensign.
The Commander grinned.
"It's all pretty casual, actually." This was apparent from the Commander's devil-may-care look. He was unshaved, with stubble covering his chin, and wearing baggy bootcamp trousers and a t-shirt, his rank pinned on the front crooked. Just a few of the people they passed gave him a casual salute, one even greeting him with a ´Hi, chief´.
"So, Ensign," the Commander asked. "I understand you've got some piloting skills?"
"Ye', sir," he replied. "Best pilot ya'll find this side o' the cluster. Gimme an airtight container wi' some thrusters an' I'll make it fly figure eights 'round wha'ever ya point me at."
"Enthusiasm, good. And some guts too. I suppose you'd need some of that to lead half a squad of home-made fighers against a system full of AI ships."
"Ah, it's not much, sir." replied the Ensign. "Your forces already cleaned all th' big ones out o' th' system.
"There were over 250 mobile military units in that system, Ensign." the Commander chuckled. "If I remember correctly, you had just over 30 fighter-bombers and frigates. There was barely anything left for us when the reinforcements arrived." The Ensign tried unsuccessfully to not look flattered. "We've got plenty of people over here that are more than willing to fly an armed can into clouds of missiles and shells, Ensign. There's a reason I went out of my way to recruit you and your squad."
"Thank ya, sir. I'll try not to get myself blown up."
The Commander chuckled again as they turned and entered a section of the station marked ´Command´. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." he said and grinned.
They entered a dim-lit, long, multi-floor room. Walkways lined the walls of each floor. Built into the walls were open capsules, each a replica of a ship cockpit. Some had pilots in them, the screens showing views of wormholes or flashing with explosions.
The Ensign walked over to the nearest unoccupied capsule and peaked inside. In front of, and around, a comfy-looking pilot seat was a hemisphere of a screen, similar to the window of a cockpit, and under that a mirad of smaller screens and monitors, with fewer actual controls present than one might expect.
"Fancy setup, isn't it?" the Commander said, looking over the Ensign's shoulder. "Configurable touchscreens, full view of your surroundings, auto-adjusting seat. There are even adjustible inertia arrays to give you a feel for the movement of the ship, if you like. Tactical info, strategic info, radars and scanners, the whole deal. Even access to some entertainment material for those uneventfull nights of wormhole guard duty."
The Ensign walked over to an occupied capsule, and found the occupant was using one of the smaller screens to watch a sitcom. The main display was dominated by the swirling vortex of a wormhole, other ships surrounding it, and the smaller monitors displaying various instruments, stats, radar, com channels, and control panels and buttons.
"So it's all remotely piloted?" asked the Ensign as he walked back over to the Commander.
"Yep." he replied. "The most valuable resource we currently have is good pilots." He walked over to a table extruding from the floor, and leaned over the map on the screen built into it. "When you're striking a target deep in AI control space, returning home isn't always an option. The AI is ruthless. Understand that. They outnumber and outgun us. They will happily blow you out of the sky without question, without hesitation, and without remorse, and they will go after you with no regard for their own survival."
The Ensign looked over the map. A small cluster of systems in the corner was marked with blue, with a holoprojection of the human military emblem floating over them. The rest of the map was ominously covered in different shades of red. Here and there, a lone spot of blue gloved amongst the red, marking forward bases and liberated settlements.
"Do not fool yourself into thinking you'll never go down, Ensign." the Commander grimmly went on. "You
will get shot down, many times. It's not a question of if; it's a question of when. Sometimes you might take some of them with you. Sometimes you might even pull wonders out of vacuum and do what you did in Murdock. But sometimes you'll go through a wormhole, run face-first into a wall of death, and get slaughtered before you can hold your preferred deity's name in vain."
"Understood, sir." the Ensign said confidently. "Doesn' really matter, though. Can't do anythin' but my best, in any case."
The Commander smiled. "Now, that's why we need more people like you, Ensign." He rose up from the map. "The rest of your squad should be coming over soon. You'll be flying some new experimental ships, from the fabricator we captured in Murdock. I suggest you use the time to run some simulation programs to get used to the controls before we get the fabby up and running."
The Ensign nodded. "Ye', sir." He walked over to an unoccupied capsule.
"Oh, and Ensign," the Commander said on the to the exit.
"Ye', Commander?"
"Welcome aboard."
The Ensign nodded. "Ye', sir. Thank ya, sir."
"Hehe," The Commander chuckled. "I told you, there's no need for the 'sir'-ing, Ensign."
"Ye', sir." replied the Ensign.
The Commander grinned and walked out.
More soon!
