The Merathorn was awash with rumors. Everyone aboard had, quite obviously, noticed that the ship had been on general quarters for a while but there had been no battle, so only the bridge-crew that had been on duty and Carmine-Squadron truly knew what had been going on. The rest of the crew was left wondering and, as people were, tried to find out what had happened.

After the meeting with Captain Burris, Commodore Ryker told us that we should expect a squadron-meeting soon and we should grab a bite to eat, take a shower and get some sleep. And that was exactly what I did, my mind still trying to work through the events of the day. When I woke up, in the afternoon and went into the mess, the cadets who had only heard rumors were on me as soon as I sat down, trying to make me tell them what I knew. I mostly fended them off with the simple fact that I had been ordered to remain silent, which helped. They were still curious, asking specific questions that I might have been able to answer, but I, not certain what eventually would fall under the gag-order, simply stayed quiet. It annoyed a few of the other cadets but those I had been friendly with over the last two week understood.

And then it was time for the squad-meeting, which found me in the meeting-room of the hangar-area. There was a strange kind of intensity in the air, making me feel out of place. While I had been asleep, we had jumped back into hyperspace and Groups 1 and 2 were back on the Merathorn, including Cadet Trezt. He looked just as out of place as I felt. It was a little strange, he was one of the Cadets I had the least amount of contact with, mostly due to him being on day-shift and me being on night-shift, but still, I realised that i should have taken the time to get to know him at least a little bit.

I sat down near him, giving a greeting to the pilots around me and we exchanged a few words, mostly meaningless smalltalk. Before we could get into deeper conversation, the door opened and Commodores Ming and Ryker entered, just as the last pilot entered the room and closed the door. It wasn’t yet officially time for the meeting but it looked like they had just waited for everyone to be here.

“Greetings, Carmine-Squadron.” Commodore Ming started, the greeting a little uncharacteristic for the normally curt and direct Squadron-leader.

“Some of you might have heard rumors about our earlier sortie. Sadly, Capatain Burris placed a gag-order over the details, so don’t try to make wing 3 tell you what they saw, they simply cannot do so, without disobeying a direct order.”

“But the result of the sortie is still something we have to deal with. I know that some of you worked with our Cadets to make them better pilots, to teach them what real flying is like, not just what they learn at the Academy.” she paused for a second and I noticed that Cadet Trezt next to me looked a little uncomfortable.

“Unfortunately, that has to stop now. From now on, Carmine-Squadron will train in the simulators, as a Unit. The simulation-numbers will be send out to you and we will monitor progress. I am not sure what will happen in the near-future but I will make sure that Carmine-Squadron will be ready!” she pressed home, her voice passionate.

“There will be no questions answered at this point and the only thing I can say is, Train like you fight, fight like you train. Now, more than normally, your life will depend on your skill as a pilot. Do not disappoint your Squadron.” she finished, looking at each pilot in turn, her eyes almost burning a hole through me, just with their intensity.

“Dismissed!” she barked, turning around and leaving the room after a very short meeting. Commodore Ryker waited for a moment but didn’t speak, instead, he manipulated his tablet for a moment, sending out the simulator-scenarios we were to run.

With our dismissal, the pilots of Groups 1 and 2 stood, some of them suppressing yawns, after an extra-long shift, they had to be tired. Sure, they hadn’t been shot at, but they had been on duty for longer than normal.

“Groups 3 and 4, let’s get to work.” Commodore Ryker said once the other pilots had left. We followed him over to the simulators and got in, repeating a familiar routine, just that now, the purpose wasn’t just to get me up to speed with the rest of the squadron, which had mostly been accomplished anyway, but to get everyone ready for a future confrontation.

And, as I understood a few minutes later, that difference was a pronounced one. The scenario we had been thrown at reminded me of the Thermopylae-scenario I had been in at the Academy, just a few weeks prior, defending the Merathorn against overwhelming odds. It was a slaughter, the squadron was completely destroyed, even if we managed to take down quite a few enemies in the process.

Instead of going through a critique-session, we instantly were thrown in again, the scenario a little different, the odds not as overwhelming but again, it was a brutal fight that saw over half of us reduced to stellar dust before the rest managed to escape.

It made me wonder just who had come up with the scenarios and what we were supposed to learn.

The next scenario started in a different manner, a manner that made me think of our earlier mission. Instead of escorting a single cruiser, we were part of a simulated fleet, closing in on a stellar nebula. There were no enemies in sight, but somehow, that didn’t help me relax in the slightest.

“Carmine-Squadron, we have unconfirmed sensor-readings from the nebula ahead. You, along with fourteen other Starfighter-squadrons will need to check them out.” the orders were announced and we were assigned a search-area, just as we would be in a real operation.

“Groups 3 and 4, split into pairs, we have work to do.” Manta ordered, before telling me that he would take the wing-position, letting me lead again.

Just looking at the nebula with the visual sensors was impressive, it was a diffuse cloud of gas, reflecting light from a nearby star and, quite frankly, we would be hard pressed to cover more than the small fraction we were supposed to search. The ionised gas made our sensors relatively useless and communication difficult, forcing us to drop relay-buoys. Still, we had our mission, so I took the lead and Manta trailed after me.

Flying through the nebula reminded me of home, there had been days in the fall when dense mist had rolled over our land, reducing visibility to a few steps and here, the feeling was similar. Back home, it had given me a feeling of floating in a sea of solitude, as if I was the only one around. Here, out in the void, the feeling was even stronger, despite the fact that I had someone I trusted nearby.

Actually completing our mission was a whole different problem, our sensors were reduced in range to the point that I almost wanted my cockpit to have windows, so I could look outside without them. I knew it would be pointless, the required distances in stellar combat were simply far too vast for human eyes to be of use, but it would allow me to be annoyed at myself, instead of the technology.

I was following a simple grid-search pattern when I noticed a strange reading on my mass-sensors and, almost on a hunch, I instantly barked out the command to break to Manta, while initiating evasive action. What I had seen looked quite similar to the attack I had suffered earlier, the sensor-signature slightly different but similar enough to make me react instantly. I was thrown around by the forces that the inertial dampening couldn’t absorb and, moments later, had to suppress a curse. Manta was gone, my sensors picking up some debris where he should have been.

But I now had a vector to follow, if those had been projectiles, I could follow it back towards their origin. Remembering that our mission was reconnaissance, I transmitted the information I had gleaned, dropped another buoy and started along the vector, deciding to set my computer up for a constant transmission. It made me more vulnerable, the transmission being another emission that could be used to detect me but if they could shoot at me, they knew where I was anyway.

Five minutes later, I saw something, just for a split second. I had completed my mission, that was certain. There were, at a glance, at least a hundred capital ships, hidden in a small area of tranquility in the chaotic nebula, clustered around a space-station.

And then, just as I wanted to start transmitting back, my simulator went black as I died.