As much as Derek's favorite game had been Earthforge; in part because it was one he truly excelled at; he had been one of the millions of fans of the various space combat games out there. The only problem being that these were made by companies like the megaconglomerate Disney, and while Earthforge was based on equipment that could actually be built, the online wargames were based on classic fictional properties.

Experience ramming a corellian corvette into an Imperial-Class Star Destroyer and somehow making it out alive didn't have any real-world applications.

Fortunately, he'd learned the basics in the academy; and studying up on the hyperdrive had helped; as it was the lynchpin of everything about fighting in space. In order to pass the weapons course, he'd need to start out by making passing marks on every weapon system in various combat situations; but that wouldn't be enough.

In the academy, they used low-grade hypnotic medications and techniques to convince their students they were truly in the field fighting for their lives to learn just how they'd react when lives were on the line. The Survivor himself had pioneered the technique to find the best men for the top ranks of the UN fleet; all the way down to refusing to hand over some alien tech if they didn't let his choice; a Russian submarine captain; run the organization.

While the models had updated over the seventeen years of the fleet's existence, there had always been only three classes of combat ships in the fleet; and the Enemy only had one, that we knew of.

The Destroyer; around 500-600 meters long, ranging from the old-school London class; his... final incident had occured on one such ship, the Washington, and his ex had ended up serving on another, the Shanghai; to the most recent Dragon class. The final Dragon class was essentially tailor-built to fight the only enemy warship class, a similarly-sized Destroyer built around the same main gun.

The Scout; typically 200-300 meters, a strictly slower-than-light ship, built to hook onto a Destroyer and be dragged through Hyperspace. Only a few dozen had been built; mostly training platforms. Amusingly enough, the Scout, in turn, carried pairs of the smallest class;

The Gunship. Unlike the Scout, these continued to be made right up til the end; their whole point had been to give the Scouts more sensor angles and point-defense envelope. It was hoped that having a modest swarm of these between the fleet and the enemy would help burn away the incoming waves of missiles if a real fleet combat ever occured.

Of course, in reality, the fight had gone simply. Tens of thousands of enemy warships had emerged, in overwhelming numbers at every point of contact, somehow remaining unseen until they were revealed in hypercannon range, and obliterated every installation they'd seen from outside the system within minutes, taking only a handful of losses, then moved on to the smaller sites they hadn't seen from the outside.

***

For a moment, Derek was confused. He wondered where he was, what he'd been doing. But... no. He'd made it through the academy, and was currently the gunner for a Ranger-class Gunship. A tiny, compact thing. Just how he got here was a touch confusing; but he could feel the cold metal of his console against his skin, hear the steady thrum of the microfusion reactor keeping the ship's capacitors charged up.. and see the pilot carefully working them on his pattern through their formation.

He checked his weapons. This was a classic, old-school Ranger; she had two weapons, a whole array of single-shot flak cannisters; essentially railguns that fired with such force they shattered themselves and sent a spray of debris forward in a cone; and a point defense cluster; a heavy laser whose lens could be reoriented to fire anywhere other than directly behind the gunship at a moment's notice.

He reviewed his status screens, checking the ammunition load on the tubes, and glanced at the logs; he didn't remember it, but he must have done the standard maintenance just a few hours ago, since the timer read 44 hours before he should check it again.

The Ranger moved in a slow, just slightly randomized, orbit of the Moscow; so much slower than the steady spin of the destroyer's gravity cylinder that making out details on it was impossible from this distance.

A loud blaring siren sounds for just a moment. The lights in the gunship cockpit shift red, the three men on duty all shifting in alertness; as a warning is passed along. Enemy ship closing in. Just emerged from hyperspace two light-minutes away and closing; already firing missiles. A steady count of incoming ordinance rising as the Rangers all sprang to alert; and Derek primed his weapons. The other Rangers and the Moscow all sent out signals, computers syncing up.

He had less than thirty seconds to setup his firing plan before the missiles were in point defense range; and if he failed, it'd be his own fault the Moscow died, with dozens of naval officers at minimum lost no matter how well emergency protocols were followed.

He knew how to do this. He analyzed the missiles in his own corridor; and ones in nearby ones that might pass over. Judged which ones were likely ECM drones, and which ones penetrators. Fired the Flak tubes immediately; releasing half of the gunship's sixty tubes in a long controlled burst, creating a region of space enemy missiles would need to swerve to avoid if they wanted to strike the Moscow; and then designating a priority list. First, the missiles he was reasonably certain were real; only hitting the drones if all of them were taken out.

He felt the increased weight against his chair as the Ranger pushed forward. The comms officer behind him switching on the tiny vessel's own ECM, the pilot accelerating hard. No more patterns. No more orbits.

As the gunship kept moving, he noticed something. A change in trajectory, with only seconds left to spare. One of the missiles was shifting to target him. Without hesitating, he shifted the cycle... pushing that missile to the end of the line. The laser's capacitor would probably be dead before it reached that far.

The actual shooting was over in seconds. The harsh manuvers of an attempted dodge. The explosions of missiles slamming into clouds of flak; of point defense lasers setting off warheads prematurely; and a single bomb-pumped laser erupting; a missile exploding moments before everything goes white.

***

It was like an abrupt splash of cold water as he came back to himself. The artificial limiters on his mind; so much more effective than any blend of drugs and hypnosis could hope to be; let him recall that he'd been running through a test. He hadn't been fighting. He hadn't just died. Well, he had; not not in a gunship. On earth. In bed.

He leaned against the wall with an involuntary shiver. If he'd really been in a gunship like that, what would have happened? Would he have actually died to save someone else? He knew if it had been the Shanghai he would have. But... the Moscow? He knew there was a real Moscow, but never even heard of anyone on its crew... Maybe, on some deep level, the limiters had failed, and he'd known it was a test. Or maybe he'd secretly wanted to die all along.

He did have a long history of ridiculous suicide charges in the various online games, and they did a pretty good job of making you feel immersed.

Regardless. He'd passed that test. His weapons training had been bumped up significantly, and he was sure the results had been passed on to the captain. The mental impact though... he needed some time. Some real time. Maybe he'd start training on the Scoutship's weapons listing after his first shift.

***

Captain Peterson was still on deck as Derek entered the bridge. A real bridge, like he'd seen in the Earthforge game, not the improvised chamber they'd had when he awoke. Somehow it all felt more real as he stepped beneath a UN logo at the doors, the airlock gently hissing open before him; and glanced back to see '13' marked on the inside.

"Navigation officer Thompson, reporting for duty, sir."

"Shiraki, you're relieved."

As the young asian man easily slid free of the straps at his station, Derek moved in, strapping himself down, and studying the console.

"Should be an easy first shift. I've got a manuevering burn scheduled in about six subjective hours."

"I'll look it over. I doubt I'd have any reason to make changes, but sensors might show us something different as we get closer."

At first, Shiraki seemed almost upset Derek would consider making changes to his commands; but he settled almost instantly. If he weren't a machine with perfect recall he'd have doubted the emotion even flickered across the man's face.

"Of course. Captain." Shiraki gave a nod, as he stepped out of the airlock.

Derek had already begun studying the upcoming course; a very slightly curved line as their ship followed its path and was just slightly pulled by the nearby stars. He glances at their eventual destination; thousands of light-years away. They were already so far from home.

The captain glanced down at Derek. "Spot anything our former navigator didn't?"

"Oh, of course not, sir. Just wondering; if our assigned target is this cube here we've marked sector 13..." He flicks his icon, and the starmap appears over their head; the designated region highlighted; containing a substantial star cluster and a few isolated stars off at the edges. "Why don't we emerge early, use telescopes to see possible targets before we enter? Maybe drop out here, at this system.."

He taps a small binary pair near the very edge of the designated area. "Then we can sweep the whole region, look at old light, see what our prospects are. And if the cluster is already occupied, maybe find out before we step in something."

The captain studied the layout. "What makes you think this area might be occupied? This isn't a game, son. There are only three starfaring nations we know of, and we only have a hyperdrive because we salvaged it. We'd have better odds of winning the lottery than finding a fourth out here."

"According to the Survivor's logs, there were dozens of other intelligent races there that might've been out here if the Enemy hadn't... eaten them. We're far beyond their space now; its fully possibly we're running through the middle of some other empire just as bad right now. I'd honestly recommend dropping out in deep space, but an isolated system that couldn't support a habitable world is a nice second choice."

Captain Peterson gave a low chuckle. "Shiraki had a very similar recommendation when I gave him that target star. Really, the main factor is speed. This bow wave is going to be mostly gone by the time we reach this cluster. If we drop into realspace, that eighty lightyears to the cluster from this binary pair will take a few months instead of eight days."

"An ounce of prevention..."

The captain mulled over the screens. "Give me a few possible targets. I'll consider your request." He tapped the tiny golden fox perched on his wrist. "Shiraki, send me that system you recommended we stop at instead of the primary. We'll be on the other ship before we drop out, but it doesn't hurt to hash everything out before we start moving."

He released the illusory animal. "For now, stick to the existing course, and make sure you keep engineering updated. It might look like a long ways to go... but we're almost there."