The Honour of the Knights by Stephen J. Sweeney (sci fi books to read txt) 📖

Dodds made their way over to a TAF module.

Dodds sat down in the seat and buckled himself in, the screens inside powering up to display a convincing astral scene all around him. The HUD activated and control consoles lit up as they prepared themselves. A sense of familiarity came back to Dodds. He reached forward and expertly configured the fighter's HUD to the way he preferred, before informing the simulation operator that he was ready to begin.

To his dismay, Dodds found that he was, just as Estelle had predicted, somewhat rusty on the simulator. The months away from duty had led to him forgetting some of the more intricate principles of space flight and combat, and he found himself stalling from time to time. But he focused and an hour later he was well on the way to returning to his original form. He embarked on a series of courses, each designed to work on various aspects of his skills, from flight handling to basic target practice. After sometime, Enrique, Kelly and Chaz joined him on a simple training mission, working as a team to fulfil various objectives.

Dodds discovered during the course of the exercise that Chaz's alleged silence made the transition to the cockpit, and whilst the others would engage in all kinds of genial banter and teasing, Chaz's voice lent itself only when it was required of him. Despite this, Dodds found that the man was an accomplished pilot and worked well with the rest of the team.

The mission took the best part of an hour to complete, by which time they were all grateful for a break and some food.

* * *

Making their way into the refectory after Estelle joined them, Dodds felt quite out of place, the five pilots being the only military personnel present. The tables were packed full of casual and suit attired staff, a smattering of white coats here and there. More walked around carrying their meals on trays.

“Is there anyone else here?” Dodds asked as he sat down to eat whatever delights Xalan's research staff were given for lunch. He had yet to see any other servicemen and couldn't help but feel that he was missing out on something.

“Two other teams,” Estelle said, confirming what Parks had told him earlier, whilst holding up a fork full of mashed potatoes, dripping in gravy. “But we're being kept apart; something about the segregation enabling us to function better as a team and provide us with fewer distractions.”

“Sure it will,” Dodds replied as an attractive, petite brunette brushed past his chair, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. She looked away, but smiled as she continued walking.

Estelle tutted before going on to question Dodds as to his performance on the simulators for the rest of the meal, asking every conceivable question about his progress. She was quite disappointed to discover he had not brought back any analytics.

Finishing, the team stashed their trays on a rack and left the refectory, Estelle steering them in the direction of the central lecture theatre to attend the presentation.

* * *

The lecture theatre, like the other areas of the facility Dodds had visited that day, had a far larger capacity than their needs demanded. Positioned centrally in the rows of red steepled seating, and close to the front, were ten other people, who must have been the other teams.

“Ah, you must be... um... you are.. the White Knights?” a voice boomed out over the theatre speakers. A tall suited man stood behind the podium at the front, with his back to a large screen covering the wall. To one side of him sat two other men, one of whom was Parks. “If you're all ready then... er.. please take your seats and I will begin the... the presentation.”

“Come on, come on,” Estelle muttered, ushering her team into their seats.

“Estelle, we're early, relax,” Dodds said.

“Yeah, about fifteen minutes early,” Kelly said.

“Yes, but the other teams are already here,” Estelle replied, before insisting on dictating the seating arrangement so that she could sit herself in the middle of the team.

Dodds was already beginning to feel sorry for the others, having had to put up with her perfection-seeking attitude for three intense days already. Sadly, he knew that with their formal training starting the following day, it was going to get a lot worse before it got any better. And should they succeed in the evaluations and have the opportunity to pilot these new starfighters, Estelle could become unbearable.

“Now,” began the lecturer, “may I first welcome you to the Obex Research Centre here on Xalan and er... tulate... all...” His words became inaudible through his mumbling. The speaker looked around as Parks said something to him. He cleared his throat and went on.

“...congratulate you all on your selection to become the first to pilot the Confederation's newest and most advanced starfighter... um... My my my name is James Ainsworth and... er... I am the chief engineer on the ATAF project. This is Scott Mansun,” he indicated to the man seated just behind him, “the project leader, and you all know Commodore Parks.

“Right, um... I know you'll probably have a lot more questions, b... but, if you could hold off from asking them... erm... until the end of the presentation, and then Scott will... will gladly take them.”

“Probably a good idea,” Dodds whispered to Enrique, sat next to him.

Ainsworth studied the podium for a moment, appearing unsure about how it operated. He pushed a button and then jumped when it did not do as he had expected: his microphone cutting off and classical music beginning to stream in through the hall's speakers.

“Oh God, this is going to take hours...” Enrique murmured, as a befuddled Ainsworth, aided by Mansun, attempted to regain control of his presentation. There were some stifled chuckles from the other teams and Dodds wondered what Ainsworth must be like when the lecture theatre was full.

Ainsworth was a tall, thin-looking man with pasty white skin. His head was covered in lank, long blond hair that fell just short of his shoulders. A gold earring sparkled in the light as he turned his head. Dodds got the impression that he was the sort of man who had never quite found the strength to sever his ties with his earlier hedonistic years, even after embarking on what seemed like quite an illustrious career.

“I... I'm sorry about that,” Ainsworth said as the music ceased. “I'm not used to this theatre.” With the presentation back in his control, Ainsworth pressed the correct buttons on the podium and the lights began to dim.

Dodds looked over at the other teams as the light level lowered, seeing that, unlike the White Knights, the other two teams were both single-sex. Five men and five women were seated together and Dodds wondered if this was again part of the team selection. Maybe the Navy wished to discover if a single-sex team was more suited to the project and its long term goals. But there again, it could just be pure coincidence.

There was not one face amongst the team of women that he recognised. One turned her head in his direction, a contented smile on her face. She did not meet his eyes, however, and faced back to the front. He guessed she was doing the same thing that he was: sizing up the competition. Neither did he recognise any of the men; two olive-skinned men seated at the end of their row were whispering to each other.

The lights didn't shut off, but instead dipped only to a level in which they did not drown out the presentation screen at the front. Dodds hoped that he would not find himself with an elbow in the ribs from Estelle after falling asleep. He felt as though he was in a warm, comfortable cinema and he sensed the impending danger, even more so after such a filling lunch.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Advanced Tactical Assault Fighter, more commonly known as the ATAF,” Ainsworth began. “It is the... er... spiritual successor to the standard Tactical Assault Fighter which you all know so well, though with many enhancements as... as we are about to see. I'm sure that you will find the following presentation t-t-to be both very informative and impressive.”

* * *

The presentation started, the screen showing a sleek, black starfighter moving against a backdrop of planets, nebulas and starships. It appeared to be a mixture of artists' impressions and real footage of the fighter, as it weaved its way around other Confederation starfighters.

There were no official markings or identifiers on the craft, the black armour complimented only by silver trims on the wings, fins and body. Despite being more or less black, the definition of the fighter was not lost against the inky-darkness of space, the armour catching the light and softly reflecting the environment about it.

With the introduction over, Ainsworth went on to speak at length about the new fighter. He was keen to point out that the ATAF, though descended from, was quite different from its TAF cousin and was not just “a TAF with more guns”, as he put it. Over the next two hours, he detailed each and every aspect of the craft, focusing on enhancements which he thought the pilots would find most appealing: a HUD that featured a predictive targeting matrix, allowing the pilot to aim for where their opponent would be, rather than where they were; an arsenal that was made up of significantly more powerful armaments than its predecessor; a much higher acceleration rate and top speed; and a shield generation unit that was many times more efficient.

The detail of the each enhancement was accompanied by video footage, some of it set planet side, the rest in space. Whatever the backdrop, most involved something exploding in rather dramatic fashion.

* * *

With his presentation concluded, Ainsworth thanked his audience and moved away from the podium. No-one had attempted to ask any questions, but Dodds noticed that all around him people were gaping; all that was, with the exception of Chaz. The big man had sat through most of the presentation with a deadpan expression on his face, slouched down a little in his seat and his arms folded across his chest. He didn't look all that interested or even impressed at what he was being shown. Dodds wondered why. At the very least, he would have expected to see a flicker of curiosity. Maybe he held the same point of view as Dodds: something about this didn't look right.

“Dude, I'm finding this a little hard to swallow,” Dodds whispered in Enrique's ear.

“Which part?”

“Which part? Well, where do I start? The bit about the accelerator or that that flimsy-looking crate is better shielded than most of our carriers.”

“It's just the next evolutionary step up,” Enrique said. “They make these sorts of advancements all the time. You can bet they're already working on the successor to that one in a lab somewhere else, too.”

Dodds frowned.

“You've gotta admit, those things look pretty sweet,” Enrique added, with a nod towards the screen.

“You know, my Dad has a saying - Never believe everything you hear, and only half of what you see.”

“I don't think this is one of those cases, mate.”

“Okay, well, imagine this...” Dodds started. With all that they had heard that afternoon, this starfighter, when compared to any other, was in essence the equivalent of taking an ordinary ground soldier and strapping a tank cannon to their back. Said soldier would then be given a belt holding two dozen grenades, before being presented with two shotguns, two pistols and two machine guns. Not only would all the added weight be of no consequence to their ability to walk or otherwise move, nor in any way hinder their performance on the battlefield, but they would be able to run at the speed of a top class athlete and survive being shot many, many times before they were at last brought down.

Dodds hoped the image of such a man leaping, somersaulting and sprinting through a torn, urban landscape would look so ludicrous, as to sway Enrique's opinion. It didn't.

“Questions?” Mansun, having taken to the podium, asked. A flurry of hands went up, none of which belonged to Dodds.

“Yes, you. The young lady in the middle there.” A rather striking, tall woman with curly blonde hair stood up.

“First Lieutenant Andrea Kennedy, Red Devils, sir,” she introduced herself. “I'm aware that I'm probably about to ask the same question as everyone else -” she looked around briefly “- but I have to know: how it is possible that you have managed to outfit a single man starfighter with a plasma accelerator? I mean, we're talking about a weapon that is usually only found on cap ships and orbital defence platforms; something capable of cleaving a