PR Snippet 2

Still in Chapter 1:

Lingchi was an Arboth frame variant built to be an escort carrier. She wasn't much unfortunately, she had sacrificed most of her armament for two boat bays, one per flank. Each boat bay supported one squadron of fighters and a small number of support craft.

Of the 2 squadrons of fighters on board, all but one were F-32 Raptors. Raptors were small and tight, easily able to fit in the tight confines of the starfish stylized warship's boat bays. They were crude craft compared to more modern fighters but they were the first Horathian built fighters deployed outside of the home star system. The squadrons had them to minimize logistical issues that had plagued other commands with a larger variety of craft.

The one lone fighter standing outside the group was labeled 00. It carried the nickname double-ought-buck to the maintenance crew, the CAG's Dread fighter to the pilots who exercised against her. She was an executor class fighter, more powerful than any of the others on board. Lieutenant Commander Maya Gisborn had taken ruthless advantage of bringing her own fighter with her when she'd transferred aboard to assume command of the tiny fighter wing. She also took ruthless advantage of everything her fighter had to offer over the Raptors. She frequently bested the entire wing during exercises.

Commander Gisborn was a cold woman, 169 centimeters tall. She was lithe, with a fighter pilot's trim body. She had ice blue eyes that matched her blue hair. Both contrasted with her pale skin. She tended to wear a monocle over her left eye when she was on duty. The monocle projected a HUD into her field of vision on that side.

She knew she was a damn good pilot, one of the best. She resented the position she'd been tricked into taking. She was better than Lingchi deserved. She thought of herself as wasting away on the ship surrounded by amateurs.

She kept her pilots to training, though she did tend to let them rotate to pilot a trash hauler if they needed a bit of relief. She didn't allow any of her people to linger on the ground however, the last things he wanted to lose a carefully trained pilot to some idiotic stunt. It didn't make her a favorite among the pilots, but that was their problem.

She had thought when she'd first taken the assignment that it would be a step up to bigger and better things. Apparently not. She was now trapped on the ship, at least until she returned to Horath after completing her mission. The moment she did she planned on filing for a transfer. She already had the paperwork drawn up and in her files, ready to date and send off at a moment's notice.

She was still struggling with the concept of the carrier. It was small, tiny, cramped, and not well designed for a fighter group. Two squadrons was less than what a heavy cruiser could carry as well, so it was silly. Apparently someone in the old Federation had come up with the design on paper and then they'd rushed it into production to protect vulnerable civilian shipping during the Xeno war.

They should have kept the Arboths going instead and ignored the civilian losses, she thought coldly as she checked the status board. She frowned when she noted more shuttle damage.

That was another thing. The cruisers had all traded in their fighters for more shuttles... and more life support for aliens to be on board. She wrinkled her nose at the very idea. She'd seen the big water tanks and pumps and such the work crews had brought in when she'd shuttled over to the flagship. Stupid. But, it was the brass's orders, so they had to be obeyed.

She was the one who had to live with it.

One thing she refused to do was to countersign any request to use her fighters for ground strafing runs. The last thing she needed was a fighter, designed for space combat, to be mixing it up in the soupy air while taking ground fire. It was another way for her people to get lost or shot up for little return. It wasn't going to happen on her watch. No way.

No matter how much her pilots or the shuttle crews whined and boo hooed about it, she thought in disgust.

She was rather lucky to be in the fleet, let alone a pilot and officer at all. She'd been found as a child, picked up in a stasis pod by a Horathian warship. Instead of being tormented the skipper had taken her under her wing and trained her to become a Horathian officer. It hadn't occurred to her until much later that the crew had been mocking her earnest efforts to fit in behind her back. They'd thought the skipper had been molesting her. They had been wrong. Their attitudes had gone a long way to shape her own cold disdain for their thoughts or welfare.

When it boiled down to it, she was better off alone anyway. She took in enough talk to keep a finger on the pulse of the ship and squadrons, and no more. She had a duty to perform. That attention to detail and single minded devotion to duty might make her seem like a marionette to some, but it earned grudging respect from all.

She didn't care for either. As long as they did their jobs, that was all that really mattered to her.

“CAG, you scheduled another exercise for tomorrow? You know we've got to watch the maintenance clocks on those birds right?” the captain demanded as she entered the stuffy and smoke filled wardroom for the daily briefing.

Her eyes narrowed. She fought the tears from the smoke. So it was going to be like that eh? She thought keeping her temper firmly in check as she took her rightful seat across from the XO. The XO had his pipe out but hadn't lit it. The skipper had already started in on the cigars she noted. “And we can't do all of the training in the simulators sir. We don't have enough of them as you know. We've got to get our people out at least once a week. Twice a week if possible.”

“What all of them?” the maintenance supervisor demanded.

“Quit your bitching. Yes, all of them,” Maya stated flatly in a no nonsense tone. “I told you and told you, we can't practice a full up exercise with the three simulators we've got!”

“It's a lot of time on the clocks though,” the supervisor said imploringly. Two of the fighters are going to need complete tear downs if you do it Meia,” he said.

Her arctic blue eyes flashed. “It's Maya, not Meia. Get it straight Stracker. I'm starting to wonder about what else you've been screwing up if you can't even get my name right,” she said. “And it's Commander Gisborn to you,” she added.

“At ease,” the captain said mildly. “I'm of two minds about this exercise you've got planned CAG. Stracker is right.”

“I've already cleared it with the admiral,” Maya said, turning her eyes on the skipper. He stiffened. “He wanted an exercise anyway and this fits. It's why I waited for tomorrow to schedule it,” she smiled thinly. “It will certainly punch up things a notch!” she said.

The XO frowned thoughtfully. He knew the CAG going over the skipper's head wasn't going to sit well. Maya didn't play politics worth a damn but she certainly knew what buttons to push. Especially those that were certain to piss people off. She also seemed bound and determined to push every single last one of them.

“Very well,” the skipper said stiffly. “I'll check of course, he hasn't said anything to me,” he said, nose in the air. “But for the moment I'm willing to take your word for it CAG,” he said. He turned to look at the other officers around the table. “That means we need to adjust our expectations and facilitate this exercise to the best of our ability. Lingchi has a reputation of excellence to uphold after all,” he intoned firmly.

The officers around the table nodded. The XO crossed his arms and leaned back, eying the CAG and then Stracker. Stracker was liable to do something stupid eventually, most likely to put a certain amount of egg all over Maya's face. Hopefully it was just egg, and not anything fatal. Pilots of her caliber were in short supply... just like the fighter she saddled up with.

Hopefully it wouldn't be fatal. He didn't want to lose both officers. He made a mental note to sit on Stracker. Get the guy beered up to blow off the head of steam  he was building up or something. He also planned to have a quiet word with Maya as well. She should know better than to antagonize her crew chief. Her safety and the mission rested in his hands as much as her own. He'd seen what a few 'accidents' could do to a good officer that took their job a little too far.

“Since the CAG let the cat out of the bag early, I suppose she might be so inclined to give us a tip on what the exercise plot is supposed to be? And what our role in it is going to be? Just so we're all on the same script page of course,” the captain said in a dust dry voice as he eyed the CAG.

Maya nodded. “We're going to do a magnum launch and simulate an attack on the cruisers while they mix it up.”

“Who's side are we on?” the XO asked.

“Whoever is on the losing side, according to our op orders. The Admiral is going to sit it out and let the captain's play for the points. We're the nasty surprise he's got tucked away. I'm all for that. I plan on giving them a rather particular nasty surprise when I line up for a strafing run,” she grinned wolfishly.

The skipper nodded.

“Oh, and the Admiral did let slip that the ship with the best point score at the end gets liberty and some down time,” Maya added almost absently. That earned some whistles and cheers of appreciation.

“Okay then. Let's see if we can help you out then,” the skipper said with an earnest nod. “Since we plan on being the ones with the liberty and honors,” he said with a tight smile.

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