It turned out that I shared my cabin with another cadet, who had yet to arrive. I should have expected that, cabins were generally assigned by sex and service-time, with us cadets being the low people on the totem-pole. Cadet Trezt was two doors further down the corridor, not that I really cared about him.

I was putting my things away when the cabin-door opened again, admitting another cadet into the room, dressed in the usual blue of fleet-officers and, according to the tabs I checked with a glance, an engineering-officer. Again, I had seen her before but didn’t even know her name.

We quickly greeted each other and introduced us, it turned out her name was Grace Veltra. She was, as many people, taller than me, albeit only by half a head and was otherwise cut from a similar cloth as I was. Fit, thanks to the regular training at the Academy and no great beauty. I had to admit, the ready smile on her face when she greeted me was quite nice. Sadly, before we got to know each other better, my computer reminded me that I had to attend a squad-meeting. I excused myself, telling Grace that I would meet her later, maybe in the mess-hall.

Finding my way to flight-country, the area of the cruiser where the Starfighters were maintained and generally flight-operations were run from, was quite easy, thanks to the map found on the ship’s net. After taking a short look around, I found myself in the briefing-room set up for the squadron, quickly taking a seat near the back of the room. The room itself was roughly half-filled by other pilots and I got a feeling that I was being watched and evaluated. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, I felt like I had stumbled into a close-knit community that was about to sacrifice the outsider, namely me, to some gods from beyond the void. The feeling lessened a little when, shortly after me, Cadet Trezt, Ryan, came in, maybe because they now had two sacrifices to their gods. He wasn’t the last to enter and, easily five minutes before the appointment, the room was filled, the complete squadron, other than the Commodores, in attendance.

Luckily, before the sacrificial festivities could commence, Commodore Ming entered the room with Commodore Ryker on her heels. There was a quick shuffling of feet as everyone got to their feet and saluted the Commodore.

“Greetings, Carmine-Squadron, be at ease.” she ordered after returning the salute and everyone sat down. With her in the room, the tension changed, everyone ready to move at her direction. She wasn’t just commanding the squadron, she was a true leader and even I felt myself ready to jump at her command, only asking ‘How high’ on the way up.

“We will be shipping out at 900, ship-time, tomorrow. Before leaving the system, there will be a short wargame with another cruiser and I expect us to crush their fighters. In addition, as you undoubtedly have noticed, we have two temporary pilots with us, Cadets Horn and Trezt, who will fill in for Captain Jayre and Commander Wyrad. Their call-signs for the duration are Carmine 17 for Horn, Carmine 18 for Trezt. Get up, the two of you.” she ordered and told everyone which name belonged to which cadet, as if they couldn’t read the name-tags on our uniform. After a moment, we got the signal to sit back down and Commodore Ming got into the meat of the meeting. It wasn’t how to sacrifice cadets to their gods, something I was rather grateful for.

Instead, we learned most of the plans for the next few weeks, that we would patrol for the next five weeks, checking systems and jump-points for trouble. The squadron would be split into two groups, wings 1 and 2, would form one, the other would be formed by wing 3 and 4. Each group would be on call for twelve hours, ready to be deployed within fifteen minutes or less. Additionally, there would be times during which we would be required to be ready to launch, in our Starfighters, in the tubes. It was mostly when the ship was due to leave hyperspace, just in case we were getting surprised on exit.

The duty-cycles would be rather long, but nothing I wasn’t used to, thanks to the Academy. Once the briefing was over, Commodore Ryker asked me to step into his office, calling two more pilots, a First Lieutenant and another Commander. The other two pilots were, as everyone else in the squadron, significantly older than I was, about fifteen years for the Lieutenant and maybe twenty years for the Commander. Again, I was wondering just what was going on, why all these people were left in the same group and not retired or spread across other groups.

The Commodore’s office was right next to the briefing-room and again, I stood at attention, not wanting to insult the older officers by acting as casual as they were. I felt Commodore Ryker’s eyes on me, even as I carefully fixed my gaze to the bulkhead above his head, staring straight ahead.

“So, Cadet Horn, what do you think about being placed in the Retirement Squadron, put out to pasture or whatever you young people call it nowadays?” the Commodore asked, his voice friendly but I thought that there was an undertone of steel that made even the idea of not being fully truthful a ridiculous one. I was reminded of the mocking tone Cadet Trezt had used on the way to our rooms earlier, making me wonder if the Commodore had heard of it or if he was just fishing.

Sadly, his voice reminded me of one one the old farmhands on my Father’s Farm, a crusty, old marine who had always been good for a teasing joke, so before my mind had time to engage and consciously compute the statement he had made, an imp of the perverse bit me, causing my mouth to get away from me.

“Sir, have you heard the joke about the reckless, old Starfighter-Pilot?” a voice asked and I only realised once the silence in the office was absolute that the voice had been mine.

Part of me wanted to duck and take cover, but before I could think how to apologise, the Commodore’s gaze nailed me to the bunkhead behind me, and, his voice still friendly and happy, spoke again. “No, Cadet, I have not. But you might want to enlighten us all.”

Swallowing the frog that tried to choke me out, I decided to go for broke. “Sir, there is none, because there is no such thing as a reckless, old Starfighter-Pilot.” When I got that out with a straight face, the Commander, a pretty woman with a head full of curly, red hair that barely was within regulation-length burst out laughing, drawing the gaze of the Commodore and I thought that there was a smile fighting with his lips.

“Unless I am completely wrong, any one of you, here in this room, has forgotten more about Starfighter-combat and tactics than I had the chance to learn. So, with all due respect, Sir, I am tremendously grateful to be placed in Carmine Squadron and I plan to learn as much as you can teach me in my time here.” I continued, laying my thought out as plainly as I could.

“She’s got you there, Manta.” the Commander managed to get out, once she controlled her laughter to a simple chuckle.

For a moment, I waited, worrying that the Commodore would kick me off the ship before we ever left port, when he let out a deep breath, almost a sigh, and spoke again.

“Maybe. We’ll have to see if our new Cadet is willing to walk the walk or if she just talks the talk. But she might be trainable.” he paused for a second and I felt his gaze again.

“These two are Wildcat, Carmine 11 and her Wingman, Wolverine, Carmine 12. With you, filling in for Carmine 10, who’s on leave for the two months, we are the third wing. If you mean what you just said, I’m sure we can make some time to train you in the simulator.” he continued and I was impressed how much he could make the word ‘train’ sound like ‘torture’.

“Yes, Sir, I’d be grateful for the opportunity.” I simply answered, not sure what else to say. If these three veterans were willing to train me personally, I would be happy to put in the time, it wasn’t as if there was a plethora of entertainment-options on a cruiser, other than maybe breeding bunk-bunnies, which still didn’t appeal to me too much. Sure, there were books, a variety of videos and games, but at the end of the day, I could consume those whenever I had time. This was an unique opportunity that would never come again.

“Well, there’s no time like the present. Why don’t we go over into the simulator-area and we will see how you actually do.” the Commodore suggested, in a tone that made it quite obviously an order. With that, we all trooped out of his office, walking the short distance to the cruiser’s simulators and strapping in.