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  Cross waggled his ship on approach, getting one last feel for its responsiveness. Each fighter had its own quirks, as did each simulator. He clicked his throttle to eighty percent and watched Kate match his change. His ship dove low, skimming the surface of the Lubyanka, high enough to avoid the occasional jutting piece of superstructure, but low enough that any fighters who engaged him risked blasting the ship they were defending. He selected continuous energy weapons, compressed the trigger on his right stick, and carved a shallow channel down the spine of the ship. The newsteel alloy resisted briefly, then succumbed—its layered crystalline structure collapsing in upon itself where it didn't evaporate from the blast. An automatic electrical charge deployed along the damaged channel in response to the strafing run. The debris clumped together, creating a layer of protection over the next shiny layer of new steel. At best, fighters were a nuisance to a capital ship, but they held distraction value and were thus part of standard engagement protocol.

  His helmet overlay gave him a 270° view of the battle, complemented with additional information of all kinds. A monitor in front showed him the remaining ninety degrees. Kate copied his run at a slight offset, starting with energy weapons before switching over to ballistics. He knew that she was gathering information on how each of the weapon types performed when applied to an already damaged section.

  Always the scientist. Always thinking. I'd like to see what it takes to make her stop thinking...

  He jerked his thoughts back to the present as he finished his run on the Lubyanka. He piloted the Falcon onto a new heading, the tight turns compressing his restraints and giving him the feel of the ship that he always enjoyed. The next stage of the scenario involved picking off fighters that were harassing the escaping troop transports. Unfortunately, the enemy fighters never made that simple.

  "We need to get to the transports. No kill hunting. Just get through."

  "I'm not the Kill Hunter in this group, Ace." Kate was already back on his wing, her piloting skills a clear match to his own.

  "Affirmative." It wasn't the time to discuss it, but Kate wasn't wrong, and the dig stung a bit. Like many of the pilots, Cross kept track of his "maximum score." His was in the top five percent of all students, putting him in the company of those who intended to fly fighters forever. Outguessing, outshooting, and outflying enemy pilots was just something he did well. At least in simulation where it was easy to forget that each destroyed enemy fighter represented a life ended.

  He increased his speed to ninety percent and twitched to align himself with the transports. Kate matched him again. "Let's do it."

  Chapter 6

  He selected intermittent fire and started blasting before he was in range, hoping to distract at least one of the fighters harassing the transport. A set of four peeled off, a change from previous runs where only two fighters shifted to defense. The simulation was adapting to the presence of the two Falcons. Interesting. Using his left stick, he marked primary and secondary targets for himself and for Kate. The data cross-linked to her fighter through the ships' proximity network and updated the imaginary command computer over the squad network. The display in his helmet outlined his primary target in bright yellow and his secondary in a less intense version. When the ship fired upon him, the outline shifted to a shade of red that communicated blood and danger, as if the programmers thought that being shot at wasn't harrowing enough. Thinking time ended as enemy weapons splashed over his shield, overloading his displays with incandescence.

  "Break right, low on my mark… Mark." The brief time between the warning and the execution command was enough for him to comprehend Kate's instructions, and he dove his ship at an angle. Kate's guns paused for a moment as he traversed her field of fire. She used the moment of occlusion as he passed between her and the enemy to adjust her angle, surprising her target with blasts to the side, penetrating shields that were underpowered compared to the forward shields she’d been striking. The enemy ship exploded.

  "On your wing." Kate was true to her word and formed up again on his five. He saw an opportunity to tweak her strategy against the rest of the defenders. He climbed and circled to his left to line up the enemy fighters into as efficient a string of targets as possible.

  "Increase separation and angle, drop back a little. I'll be the appetizer, you feed 'em dessert." He feathered his engine multiple times to simulate damage, and the remaining three enemy fighters oriented their weapons and shields on him.

  Always a good tactic to finish the weak ones first. Hope you enjoy the surprise.

  His properly aligned shields absorbed the enemy's blasts as he drove through them. He watched Kate clear the enemy fighters from the board, her continuous fire punching holes through their unbalanced shields. What had been a legitimate opposing force was now floating debris.

  "I get half of those kills. I set you up perfectly."

  "In your dreams, Ace. Enemy transport, two high. I'll lead this time."

  They were in a good position to intercept the enemy troop ship before he reached their own transports and discharged his cargo of Marines. It wasn’t enough for the enemy to just destroy their ships, they preferred to board them and claim them for their own fleet, ransoming or trading the prisoners back. The consensus among the cadets was that this was a good philosophy, one they should copy, except for the part where they’d have to deal with the Marines. There was inevitably tension between the ships' crews and the ground pounders.

  The two Falcons streaked toward the transport, evading most of the fighter screen and adjusting their shields to defend against those that they couldn’t avoid. When they reached the transport, defensive blasts blanketed their flight path. Cross and Kate broke off in separate directions to avoid the barrage.

  Kate growled in frustration as she realigned her ship with the target. "This is exactly how it always happens. I've never been able to get through these defenses. How about you?"

  Cross paused before replying, his finger tightening on the trigger to blast an enemy fighter in their path. "I've had the same problem. How about we try coming in from separate angles?"

  "Affirmative," Kate replied, "I'll go high."

  "And I'll go low."

  "Familiar territory for a creepy-crawly like you."

  Cross laughed. "Hilarious. Truly. You slay me. Commencing attack run."

  Chapter 7

  Kate watched as Cross looped under the transport, inverting his ship. He wove through the turrets, which weren’t designed to scrape off a low flying fighter and couldn’t target him with any effectiveness. His weapons blasted armor from the ship, causing one or two small explosions, but the ship's shields held up.

  Kate was supposed to be matching Cross's tactics on the opposite side of the ship. Unfortunately, she was out of position as he began his attack run, so she started almost seven seconds later. The part of her brain not taken up with the mechanics of the strafing pass was already thinking ahead to the next run at the transport, when they would coordinate better. Both parts of her brain were surprised when her energy blasts vaporized metal, cutting through the shields with ease.

  She realized the enemy's mistake just as she finished her run. The delay had given the transport time to attune his shields toward Cross, weakening the ship’s defenses in other quadrants. The opportunity hadn’t existed during her solo runs. As she processed this new information, her instincts launched her into action. A twist of the right stick slewed her fighter on a horizontal plane, leaving her facing the transport as inertia carried her backward. A combination of vision tracking through her helmet and deft maneuvers of the left stick targeted the housing covering one of the ship's two massive engines, located on the rear of the ship. A low power laser designator locked a dot where she wanted them to impact, and small emitters on each side of her ship would automatically keep that position marked regardless of the transport's actions or her own flying. She launched two of the four missiles her fighter carried in external tubes under the wings. "Fox Two, Second
Fox Two."

  Her focus on the transport shattered as enemy beams crashed against her defenses. In her hurry to get her missiles launched, she’d lost situational awareness, and her shields weren’t reinforced in the direction of the incoming fire. Her simulated instrument panel cracked with a loud snap, eliminating the displays that monitored the health of her ship, the overall map of the battle, and other essential information. Kate issued verbal commands to adjust her in-helmet display to compensate, but it left her with a less expansive view of the battle. She flipped her fighter, rotating through 180⁰ with the computer's perfectly timed application of thrusters all over her ship, and ended the enemy that had damaged her. Kate reoriented to the transport just as her first projectile reached its target.

  With the extra shield power still facing toward Cross's attack run, her first missile blossomed against the standard shields, which did their job of protecting the engines. Kate barely had time to register her stomach dropping in frustration when the second missile punched through the weakened energy barrier, drilling into one engine. The resulting explosion knocked the other engine off-line, and the transport hung in space, venting atmosphere before internal systems isolated the exposed sections. Cross whooped. Kate didn’t react. Her brain was entirely engaged in processing an unexpected idea.

  Chapter 8

  Cross rolled to orient himself on the next transport, and kicked up his thrusters to ninety-fiver percent. He’d only attempted to take on this transport one time, breaking the rules of the simulation and ignoring the first transport they were supposed to save. His battle display showed that he could make it to the ship before the Alliance forces boarded it. The problem was that the direct path to the transport crossed the Lubyanka's firing line. To avoid the capital ship's fire would cost too much time, allowing the transport to be overrun. He had on at least one occasion tried to attack the Lubyanka directly. He discovered that his single ship was inadequate to the task, and he’d ended that run embracing the simulation's nickname.

  Hey, wait...

  When Kate spoke, her voice was slow and low, a sign that she was in the zone—completely focused on the problem at hand. "Cross, I think we can turn the simulation on its head. What if we—"

  "—used the same tactic on the Lubyanka," he finished, seeing it play out in his mind. "It's worth a try. You lead?"

  "On your five, Ace. You set her up, I'll knock her down."

  "Affirmative, Red. Coming around to 270 – 70 high. Speed ninety."

  Cross's ship curved through three quarters of a circle, inclining at seventy degrees. Kate mirrored his moves, proximity communication between their two ships assisting as both pilots selected weapons for the attack run. Each scored glancing blows against the fighters as they closed in on the Lubyanka, but the kill count was now irrelevant. The enemy fighters were just debris to be cleared. There was no point in swimming with the tiny fish when the giant shark lay ahead and their harpoon guns were ready to fire.

  "Protect high, Kate." She responded by sliding her ship into position above his and angling her shields to create a protective bubble in front, above, and behind. The position protected the bottom of her ship, and she could redirect power away from that area, making the rest of her defenses stronger. Crossmirrored her, shifting his shields to absorb the fire from the Lubyanka and leaving his top guarded only by Kate's shields. In this formation, Kate's ship flew itself, guided by commands from Cross's fighter. The proximity connection allowed the two to move as one, delaying actions initiated by Cross just long enough to communicate them to Kate's ship. They were near enough to the Lubyanka now that only the ship's close defense guns could be brought to bear, and their shields were at least temporarily able to handle the onslaught.

  Both pilots hoped the shields would last through to the end of their run, but knew that it was a roll of the dice. To take down the Lubyanka, though...

  Verbal commands from the pilots set up the tactics for their missile launches. When they achieved extreme range, the housing for the capital ship's distant central engine glowed a light yellow in Cross's heads-up display. It increased in intensity as they streaked down the length of the ship. Finally the housing switched to a bright orange, indicating optimal missile range. Cross fired off his missiles in pairs, two streaking from under each wing and a final two ejected from the body of his fighter, hanging in space before igniting and throwing themselves toward their fiery doom. "Go, Red"

  At his word, Kate keyed a pre-planned flight sequence that rebalanced her shields and dropped her speed to give Cross’s missiles time to travel toward their target. After mere seconds, she launched her remaining missiles in staccato sequence. The missiles formed a line as they closed on the target, set to impact just after Cross's ordinance. Just for a moment, he saw it like a frozen moment in time—the tiny missiles seeking the heart of the capital ship, a painting in tones of gleaming metal and fiery exhaust on the deep black of space. Then there was no more time for reflection, and the two pilots flew evasive maneuvers, arcing away from the ship and the fighter screen, maxing throttles as they fled the hopeful destruction of the Lubyanka.

  They saw the first explosion in their rear displays, and both pilots swung their ships around to see the results through the clearer vision of their helmet heads-up displays. Cross's first pair of missiles struck together, failing to pierce the shield, and his second pair met a similar fate, yet still spreading destructive energy across the surface of the shield bubble. The third pair impacted the glowing surface, and a large section of shield at an angle to Cross's impacts suddenly shimmered then vanished, its lessened power causing it to fail from the damage spillover.

  In the instant before the capital ship's defense computer reinforced the failed section, Kate's missiles plowed in unhindered, both striking the same spot on the same single engine of the Lubyanka, driving deeper and deeper as each took advantage of the earlier missiles’ destructive power.

  They’d taken their best shot. Both pilots' eyes stayed locked on the aft of the Lubyanka, Cross counting each second after the impacts. Each was a spike driving up his frustration. "Damn it, Kate, this simulation can just go—"

  The engine exploded in a fireball that was quickly stifled by vacuum, sending debris in all directions and damaging a score of the fighters protecting the ship. Time stopped for Kate and Cross as they watched and hoped, and then the universe resumed proper speed as more explosions rocked the aft of the ship. Fire blossomed all along the Lubyanka's spine, chewing forward from her engine compartment, through the cargo areas and fortunately empty colony-landing sections, finally reaching the munitions hold. The ship's modular design did its job, blowing the main force of the ship's own munitions explosion out into space, the reinforced compartment keeping it from damaging the internal structure of the ship. Unfortunately for the Lubyanka, the cumulative damage had weakened his overall structural integrity, and the munitions explosion cracked the spine of the ship, separating the front two-thirds from the engines and batteries that gave him life.

  Kate and Cross watched in silence as the giant ship broke in two. The pieces drifted, as the winking lights on his skin failed together. Smaller explosions continued in both sections of the ship, increasing in intensity and frequency as they consumed what was left of the enemy that had defeated them so many times. The silence lasted until the last piece of the capital ship was reduced to floating junk.

  "Cross, we just beat the simulation."

  His reply was cut off as their simulators went dark and opened to reveal a squad of security guards.

  Chapter 9

  A night in the security lockup didn’t do Cross's mood any good. Finally beating the simulation should’ve been followed by celebration. Adulation. Maybe a parade. Not this spartan cell that he shared with two first-years who couldn't hold their liquor or their tempers, nursing their wounds in opposite corners. By the time that the summons to the captain's office arrived, he was a ball of frustration—worried for Kate, worried for himself, and jus
t generally angry at the rules-bound chain of command that suffocated ingenuity under the weight of regulations.

  The bright white hallways made the reward for his pre-flight indulgences that much more painful, and he shied away from them. He knew that it made him look like he was cringing. He was sure his security team escorts were judging him.

  Just one more reason to be upset with the idiots in command. Some small part of him knew the truth, that he’d done wrong and earned whatever he was about to get. The rest of him soundly rejected this idea.

  They turned a corner and met up with a squad of guards marching Kate toward the same destination. "Morning, Kate," he forced the words out through sandpaper in his mouth.

  "Morning, Cross. Sleep well?" Cross could tell that Kate was also irritated by their predicament, but not as offended as he was.

  They arrived at the captain's office and were ushered in without fanfare. They each snapped to attention in front of his desk, offering him a salute and holding it.

  Captain Gareth Davies looked up from his paperwork and raised an eyebrow at them. "Oh, do sit down. Your toy soldier impersonation is a poor one this morning, to say the least." He nodded at someone behind them, and a tray with three large mugs of Navy coffee appeared in front of them. Kate accepted hers with a small smile of appreciation for the steward and sipped carefully from the cup. Cross accepted his own with a growl of thanks and quaffed deeply. The burn in his mouth and throat jarred him awake.

  "I reviewed the recording of your battle in the simulators. Well done. You’ve solved the puzzle of the Lubyanka." He gave them a smile. "It would’ve been better, of course, if you hadn’t broken every rule of security on your way to the simulator room." His upper-crust Welsh accent softened the impact of his words, making them sound more like casual conversation than the reprimand that they actually were.