Heritage (Under Revision)
Chapter 54

Chapter 54: Stella

I stare into the mirror as I place my hair into a tight bun. I adjust it here and there in order to make sure it’s up to snuff. My eyes trail over to the new scar that extends from my hairline on the right side of my head to half way down my forehead.

The doctors said if I hadn’t been wearing the helmet, my brain would’ve been turned into scrambled eggs. Out of curiosity, I took the bandages off one day while recovering. The scar as a whole extends across my scalp like a spider-web. It’s a near exact image of the pattern that my helmet had on it when it cracked.

It’s been a month since that happened. Today is my first day back on duty and the tests beforehand that got me here were extensive. I’m told I didn’t wake up for three days and the doctors were afraid that I might be brain-dead due to lower than normal brain activity.

They felt it was a miracle that I had woken up so soon. After which, they spent the remaining weeks ensuring that I had full cognitive function. From color recognition, to depth perception, to emotional stability, the doctors ran every possible test they could; which ended up being a test in mental fortitude all on its own.

I trail my eyes down until I meet them in my reflection. I found out later that my copilot didn’t make it. It turned out that I sent medical personnel to an injured man that didn’t exist any longer. In the ignition of the fuel it blew off too much of the fighter and the vacuum ended up pulling him, along with his seat out into open space. He died of oxygen deprivation and deep-freezing temperatures before anyone realized where he was.

I had the opportunity to meet his son as he was coming to claim his father’s body and bury it on their home world.

I feel tears start to form and see my eyes gloss over and well up.

What I found when his son came to claim him was not sorrow, but pride. He was proud that his father died doing the thing he was most passionate about. So proud in fact, that he followed directly in his footsteps, I noticed by the uniform he was wearing.

The tears slide down my cheeks.

His son placed a hand on my shoulder and thanked me for being there with him in the end as well as for letting him save me. I found out later that Jinkor believe that the greatest death is in dying to preserve another’s life. It all clicked to me after that. He knew the fuel leaked too far in. But he didn’t care. If he died, he wanted to make sure it made me live.

I close my eyes and look away from the mirror, taking a seat on the cot next to it. I take a moment to compose myself, wiping the tears from my eyes and taking a deep breathe.

I wish Leon were here.

I stare off into space, holding on to that thought. I feel a warm hand grab mine. I look up and see that Richard is staring at me with concerned eyes.

“You okay?” He asks simply.

I quickly wrap my arms around him and squeeze him hard.

He doesn’t say anything for a while. I let him go.

He smiles at me. “I’d be careful with that Pilot Grade One Stella. You just might get yourself in trouble for PDA,”

I can’t help but smile back. And hugging Richard succeeded in making Leon disappear from my mind.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, so you got your helmets here, rigging here, and side arms here. I assume they taught you about a crash pistol in the academy?”

“Yes. We learned them back and front. They taught us to take them apart and put them back together blindfolded,”

“That’s good. So basically, your job here is to polish and clean helmets, untangle pilot rigging, and break down, clean, and test fire crash pistols. Pretty simple. Just make sure you do a good job at it. The armory Captain comes through every so often during the day and if you’re slacking...be prepared for a whole new kind of ass chewing. Got it?”

I nod my head quickly.

“Alright, good. I’ll let you get to it. I’ll be at the sign in desk. Any time someone brings something in, I’ll hand it off to you,”

I nod again.

Master at Arms Parker gives me thumbs up and walks over to the desk. I grab one of the helmets off of the rack and place it on my workbench. I look it over, tracing my hands over the various dings in the paint and scuffs in the decals. I pick up a cleaning rag, grab a cleaning solution from below the workbench and start working.

I decide to alternate between projects. Helmet, rigging, pistol. Before I know it a number of hours have passed. I’m only broken from my concentration by the Captain entering the cage.

“Who do we have here, Parker?” He asks.

Parker walks over to us.

“Hey Cap. This is PGO Lancaster. She’s the one that came in hot on the landing dock a month ago,”

The captain raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

“That so? Heard you took a real knock to the head. You doin’ alright?” He asks me.

“Yes Captain. To be honest, I’d really like to get back out there. I’m fit for duty, sir,”

He smiles and places a hand on my shoulder “Don’t worry. They’ll have you back out there in no time. Putting you in here is just a standard precaution when someone sustains a head injury. They want to make sure you didn’t knock a screw loose,”

I nod my head in acceptance.

The Captain then turns to the finished rack of the items I had completed. He lifts a helmet from the rack and studies it.

“You ever polish a helmet before Lancaster?”

“No sir,” I answer timidly, expecting a correction.

“Well it’s too bad you decided to be a pilot, because you seem to have a gift for shining one of these babies. I can see my damn reflection in this helmet,”

He looks at Parker and points at it.

“Now this is how you polish a helmet, son. Take notes on this, because she just set the bar a lot higher for me,”

Parker smiles and laughs at the Captain’s enthusiasm. He sets the helmet down and moves to one of the pistols. He pulls it from the gun rack begins working the slide.

“Smooth as silk. This gun feels like new. I bet you it’s spotless on the inside,”

He puts the gun back on to the rack and turns back to Parker and I.

“I’ll tell you what Miss Stella, how about when you aren’t flying, you come in here for a few hours a day and work for me. Now, I know you fly guys like your down time, but I think this would be good for you. Having a routine is important in combat jobs like yours. Take it from someone who used to do the same thing. Having a routine is nice. You don’t have to worry about duty issues either. If you get called to suit up, you’re free to go. I’ll make sure you volunteering yourself is noted and commended in your record as well. What do you say?”

I think for a moment for before answering.

I notice that the Captain is holding his breathe just a little bit.

I extend a hand “I appreciate your offer, sir. I’ll take it,”

The Captain takes my hand and shakes it. “Well alrighty then Miss Stella, I appreciate it. Keep up the good work,” He says as he turns around and walks back to his office.

I embroil myself in these duties for the next three days. At the end of them I find myself in a medical room. The doctor walks in, my medical charts are in his hands. He studies them for a moment before acknowledging my presence.

“Miss Lancaster, how are you feeling?”

“A lot better, sir. The headaches are gone completely and I don’t find myself exhausted so quickly anymore,”

The doctor takes out his eye examination tool. He turns it on and looks into each eye.

“Well, your eyes are dilating perfectly fine and your tests came back completely clean. So, I suppose the only question is: Are you ready to jump back in to a plane?” he asks with a grin.

I nod my head excitedly.

The doctor scribbles a signature on to a form. “I’ll be sure to get this fitness to return document sent over to your CO as soon as possible. You’re free to leave if you want,”

Satisfied with the doctor’s answers, I grab my things and leave the room, returning to my tasks in the armory cage. Time passes a bit slower than normal, but before long the day is done and I find myself sleeping soundly on a cot that starts uncomfortable and grows on you the longer you sleep on it.

The silence and darkness are broken by a loud voice on the intercom and flashing yellow lights.

“Attention! Attention! All pilots report to the flight deck immediately!” The booming voice says.

I jump out of bed with a startle swiftly and very nearly jump in to my flight suit. I rush down to the flight deck with a mob of other pilots.

As we enter through the bulkhead doors on to the deck, I see our commanding officer taking account of everyone coming in. He notices me and waves me over. I break from the crowd of other pilots and hurry over to him.

“What are you doing down here Stella?”

I take a few breathes, trying to catch it. “I’m coming to fly, sir. The doctor said I was cleared and he would send my paperwork to you as soon as he could,”

“Apparently not soon enough. I can’t let you fly without that fitness to return letter,” His words cause disappointment to burn through me.

I pace back and forth.

“Sir...please. I know you haven’t received the letter yet, but I’m telling the truth. I can fly...I want to fly...I...need to fly. I can’t stand being grounded and not being able to--,”

“That’s enough pilot,” He says cutting me off.

He stares at me with thoughtful eyes, then speaks very sternly “Keep a cool head. This isn’t a revenge game pilot. You go out there, you do your job, you come back. Anything else, and I will ground you until I feel the notion not to. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” I respond, giving a salute.

He mirrors my action “Your fighter should be repaired. Tell your stand in to go to...” He looks over a sheet on a clipboard “R Fifty-Two. Now gear up,”

“Yes sir,” I run to my locker and open it up.

A new helmet stands in place of my previous one that was shattered. I pick it up and look it over. To my surprise, someone has placed a custom decal on it that depicts a near exact copy of the original crack on it, colored in black, giving it the appearance of a spider’s web. I notice there’s an addition to it however, in the form of a black spider with a red hourglass on it. I flip the helmet to the other side and in red lettering is the word “Widow,” I embrace the novelty of it for a moment before slipping the helmet on, putting on my rigging, and checking and loading my crash pistol.

By the time I reach my fighter, the other pilot is nearly about to climb in before I stop him with a tap on the shoulder.

“Deck Commander told me to send you to R Fifty-Two!” I yell through the cacophony of engines starting up.

He looks around with focused eyes for a moment before giving a nod and hurrying over to his new assignment. I reach for the ladder to enter the pilot’s seat when I feel a tap on my own shoulder.

I turn around to face the source.

“Sorry sweetie, but you’re riding shotgun today!” He says pointing a thumb at the back seat of the plane.

He brushes passed me and climbs the pilot’s ladder. I let out an unheard huff and follow suit on the wingman’s ladder. As we both settle in to our seats, the cockpit door glides shut and drowns out the noise of the outside, sealing us in our own world.

“Sorry if I sounded short with you a second ago. I just hate all of that noise, you know? Name’s Kurosawa, by the way. Pilot’s Lieutenant Grade One,”

“I prefer to be called by my first name if that’s okay with you, sir. Stella,”

“Fine with me. And no need for the sirs. We’re partners. That means inside this cockpit we’re equals. We work together to accomplish the mission. Besides, I know you’re good enough that I don’t have to tell you what to do. So just call me Kurosawa, or any variation of Tommy Gun,” He says with a light chuckle.

“Tommy Gun,” I ponder out loud.

Kurosawa leans to the right so I can see him through the space between my instrument panel and cockpit door and taps his helmet a few times. I see a black and brown, old style Thompson machine gun pointing diagonally towards the front of his helmet, with the words ‘Tommy Gun’ written in old style calligraphic writing and angled in the same way.

“Picked up that nickname when I first got started,”

“Why is that?” I ask.

“I used to get nervous during my flight sims and start spraying ammo without actually aiming. Just spray and pray. Like the old mobsters used to do hundreds of years ago. There were always more bullet holes in the walls than in the people, but it didn’t really matter considering they were using hundred round drum magazines. Law of statistics says you’re bound to hit them at least once. And based on my experience, I always did, in fact, hit a target at least once,”

I laugh under my breathe at Kurosawa’s self-deprecation. The familiar voice of flight dispatch calls in, informing us of launch readiness. And just like before the countdown ensues, the fighters rotate in to open space and Kurosawa engages our thrusters.

“So, did they say what the emergency launch was all about?”

“I’m not sure. They said it was bad news though, and that all officers need to keep their underlings focused,”

And just then a channel wide voice speaks. “Hello everyone, this is your deck commander speaking. Now, I’m sure all of you are wondering what you’re doing out there in open space staring at nothing. In a few moments, that open space is going to be filled with vessels from a race of creatures known as the Thume. These aliens have decided that it is best for them to ally with the Sekrid Empire and go to war with our peoples. They have been following us for multiple days now and unfortunately, their ships have proven faster. Therefore, we have decided it is best to turn around and face our enemy with our teeth bared, rather than running with our tail between our legs. I will not lie to you. The Thume are highly advanced and outnumber us. Our intelligence on their tactics is limited. Our ships are weakened and low in number from our previous skirmish. I understand this all sounds disconcerting. But the one thing that humanity will always have more of is force of will. When everything is falling down on our heads, we always say get up, and push harder. That is what we are going to do today. We will not--,”

the signal goes to static as a large beam of energy cuts through the black canvas and shears through the hull of my base ship, hitting the control center head on and sawing it in half length-wise.

“Oh my God...” Are the only words I can choke out

“Those sons a bitches. Everyone! Get into formations and prepare for imminent threat!” Kurosawa yells over the radio.

The various clicking and barking of orders are stifled as I feel panic flood over me, the memories of the previous battle replaying in my mind.

“Stella...Stella...Stella!” My name breaks through my anxiety.

“Ye...Yeah I’m here,”

“Prep weapons. If that’s any indication of what we’re dealing with, you’re going to need to be quick on the trigger,”

“Right,”

I quickly tap a few button combinations in and a HUD appears on my screen with a crosshair. It gives me a live feed of precisely placed cameras that accurately allow me to view the firing trajectory of the fighter’s guns and act upon a target centering themselves in the reticule. The guns also have independent movement of the ship, which I can control using a joystick on my right.

There’s a sudden distortion in space that begins to occur, almost as if a black hole were forming. In an instant, Thume ships appear out of nowhere and begin their assault, it doesn’t take long for our fleet to return fire.

Kurosawa cuts our ship hard “Jesus, how far away were they when they fired that cannon?” He asks rhetorically.

I feel the inertia of our ship speeding up as Kurosawa cuts a path diagonally towards a group of skirmishing fighters.

“Alright Widow, light em’ up on my go,”

I ready my hands on the stick and firing mechanism.

“...Now!”

I open fire on every and any ship I can, making a few hits here and there. Some of them become disabled while others explode entirely in a bluish-violet flash of what looks like stardust.

Beautiful destruction I think to myself. We cut through the skirmish line and instead of doubling back for another run, I notice Kurosawa continue on his path forward.

“Where are we going?”

“We have to take out that cannon or it’s going to rip our fleet to shreds in no time,”

“There’s no way we’ll be able to punch through that armor Kurosawa. It’s a destroyer class. I guarantee they have a shield on top of all that plating too,”

“You never know until you try partner. Trust me,”

I keep silent as he speeds forward drawing closer and closer to the destroyer.

“Alright, here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to punch it and do a flyby of the surface hull. I want you to engage the camera and take some photos. Before we double back for another run, I want you to look through the photos and tell me what I’m dealing with and we’ll prioritize targets,”

“Sounds like a plan to me,”

“Here we go,”

I hear Kurosawa jam the thruster lever forward propelling us at full speed. I quickly set the camera on our fighter to take multiple pictures with every activation. As we fly over the target, I barely have a enough time to set the camera off.

Each press of the button sets off a myriad of screen flashes and clicks. I manage to activate it three times before we’re passed the destroyer. Without a word I start at sifting through the images.

“I have...what appear to be...shield pylons on the surface of the destroyer. I also see defense turrets,”

“Alright. That’s good news. That means their shield system is on a grid. If we can drop enough of those pylons, it’ll lose a section of shield that we can use to punch through the hull. Did you ever do ship surface sims?”

“No. They considered that elective training since our class was so accelerated,”

“Well it’s time you learned then. Keep focused at all times. We aren’t going to be able to take out the pylons from above because the shield is being generated from the top of it and then reverberated down the shaft on to the surface of the ship. Generally, the weak points are the shafts so we’re going to have to fly along the surface of the destroyer and hit them. Map me out a grid set from those photos and send it over,”

I tap a few things on my display, drawing a grid path in bright, yellow lines and swipe the entire piece I was working on upwards, sending it to Kurosawa’s display. He goes silent for a moment.

“Looks good. When we get down there, you need to stay sharp. Those auto-cannons are fast and accurate. I’m going to maneuver the best I can, but I need you to take every one of them out that you can. The less of those cannons we have, the easier it’ll be to hit those pylons. It’s going to get real intense, real fast. You ready?”

“Punch it,” I reply.

Kurosawa points the nose straight down towards the destroyer and maxes out our acceleration. We speed towards the surface. Right before we’re about to collide with the surface, Kurosawa drops all thrust entirely from the fighter, letting the unhindered velocity to continue carrying us. During our free flying he, like he’s done it before, shifts the jet until it’s parallel with the hull of the destroyer and then reengages the thruster, boosting us forward before the downward velocity causes us to collide with it.

I ready myself once again at my controls. There’s hardly time before bolts of energy start flying at us as Kurosawa begins to strafe left and right, up and down, avoiding them. For the first few minutes of the assault, I’m unable to comprehend how fast everything is passing by us.

“Come on Stella! I need you here!” Kurosawa says, frustrated.

Sweat begins to drip from my brow as I try to gain my bearings.

I can do this.

I start firing.

I take note of how far I’m off from my targets and begin to compensate to offset for our speed. My shots creep closer and closer until finally...hit.

One of the artillery turrets explode in a flash of yellow and red. A can’t help but let a satisfactory smile creep across my lips as I hit the turrets again and again.

“Pylon, straight ahead!” Kurosawa warns.

With a smooth motion I shift my focus to the pylon.

“Aim for the center of it. The reverb should be weakest right there,” Kurosawa instructs and I listen.

I fire several beams at the center of the pylon and it cracks in half without resistance, electric energy spurts from the base. Kurosawa veers the fighter to the right, heading for another target. For what feels like an eternity of tense focus and close calls, Kurosawa and I go pylon to pylon, taking out each and every one in the predetermined grid. As the last one falls, Kurosawa veers upwards off the surface of the destroyer.

I watch down below as a large rectangular pane of energy flickers and fades. Kurosawa places us into an idle position above it. I take this time to look over to the battle occurring away from us. In the time it took us to take out the pylons, the destroyer’s primary cannon was able to fire on two more of our cruiser ships. One of which is completely disabled, the other, having been grazed, is missing an entire half circled section of hull.

Kurosawa breaks me from my wandering thoughts. “I have an idea,”

“What is it?”

“Judging from the look of that plating, you’re right. There’s no way we’re getting through it conventionally. However, I remember reading in the academy about a pilot who developed a method of punching through that kind of armor with a standard fighter jet,”

I think for a moment and then the realization hits me.

“I know exactly what you’re talking about. Dante Hall developed that method. I’ve studied it extensively,” I explain.

“Do you remember exactly how it’s executed?”

“Yes. It involves thrusting your fighter straight down towards the surface of the hull. You expend all of your rockets in order to quickly heat the plating as well as do any possible damage you can. At the same time, you maintain continuous energy fire on the same area. You essentially treat your ship like a drill and bore a hole through the surface of the ship and continue all the way through. Dante said that after breaking through the top layer, everything else will be much more fragile underneath. He also said that it’s easier to destroy the hull from the inside of the plating than it is from the outside because all of the actual armor coating is outward towards the threat,”

“That’s what we’re going with then. There, just below the rotation coupling, if we burn through there, we can do enough damage to sever the cannon from the destroyer entirely, leaving it a sitting duck for our cannons,”

“I should tell you though Tommy...Dante also said that while you do massive damage to the targeted ship, your fighters weapon batteries are almost always going to be expended. Which mean that we’ll also be sitting ducks,”

There’s a long pause. “Well at least we got the job done,” Kurosawa turns the ship to face the hull.

“Do it,” I tell him.

He accelerates forward. I flip several switches on my panel as we move forward. My rockets activate. I time my shot, waiting for the precise time I remember Dante mentioning. I press a button and the rockets launch. As they head towards their destination, I begin my assault with the energy cannons, firing an unrelenting stream of bolts into the armor. Kurosawa is forced to evade once more as defense turrets begin firing upon us again.

Compensating to keep the bolts on target is difficult but I manage as best I can. It isn’t long before the moment of truth arrives to see if our work paid off. Both of our hearts jump in our throats as we feel the collision on the hull.

But, instead of the hard stop of crunching metal and death, there’s a resistance and then a smooth gliding as metal on metal squeals in our ears. As our fighter pushes through the initial armor layer, it becomes easier to push through and soon we’re melting and vaporizing our way into a large mess of wires, circuitry, and ship corridors.

As the minutes roll by I watch the power in our batteries deplete rapidly.

“We have to get through this soon or we’re going to get stuck in here,”

“Don’t worry Stella, we’re almost out, I can feel it.”

I begin to tap my foot with impatience as I watch the gauge go from green, to yellow, then to red, sending off a warning message on my display.

“Almost Stella, just a minute longer,” Kurosawa reassures.

With the last of our energy reserves fading away we see the salvation of solid grey metal, then white hot as the energy assault burns through it, ending the journey the same way it began. As we exit the excavation, Kurosawa moves at full speed away from the destroyer to gain distance and view our handy-work.

“It’s...it’s not shutting down,” I say dumbfounded.

I think you missed one important detail to that plan. I hear the click of a button and watch as one last missile launches out in to the distance. A camera display pops up on my feed.

“Guide it as close to the center of the hole as possible and detonate it,” Kurosawa says.

I silently do as he says, gently steering the missile into the hole we bored through. When I reach a spot that is satisfactory to me, I press a button on my joystick, causing the missile to explode.

The base of the cannon gives way with a flash of iridescent blue and the cannon itself separates, floating away from its host. It doesn’t take long for the fleet to notice and they begin their counter-offensive, advancing while firing their multiple cannons at the same time.

Numerous shells collide with the destroyer and surrounding enemy carriers. I see some of the rounds make impact with the destroyer’s shields that send off a reverberating violet wave as their payloads are blocked. Fortunately, the piece of grid is still down and shells also manage to collide with the affected area.

Our ships’ guns slowly start to put a focus on the shield opening, essentially creating the same effect on the destroyer as our tactic did, only on a much larger scale. The bombardment begins to completely disassemble the destroyer’s structure as it tears into multiple large pieces. Our battleships cease their assault and I’m able to fully witness the devastation as shards of twisted metal, glass, and Thume personnel float silently through the void.

I stare across the expanse at the rest of the battle as it’s coming to a close. Without the use of their destroyer, the Thume carriers become overwhelmed by our weaponry and it seems our fighters gained the upper hand tactically. Before long, the Thume fighters retreat back to their carriers just before they warp jump away to retreat.

A new voice comes on to the radio “All squadrons, well done. Victory is ours today. Return to your vessels. Those of you from the carrier Muse, you have been reassigned to the carrier Ember. My condolences for your losses,”

Kurosawa and I keep silent for the remaining time we’re in our fighter. We do the same after landing, both of us grieving the loss of our comrades in our own minds.

After landing, a lengthy process of placing all of us from the Muse ensues. It takes a few hours before they manage to find the space in a carrier too small to carry personnel from two ships worth of pilots.

A long day of fighting and waiting comes to an end with me plopping down hard on a new cot in a utility room on one of the lower decks of the Ember. I suppose it isn’t all bad due to the fact that the utility room was too small for more than me.

The privacy feels nice right about now. As I’m lying there, my forearm covering my eyes, my mind turns to Richard. I’m sure he’s okay, but I still can’t help but feel worried. But then, my thoughts change to Leon again. I didn’t have the heart to let his parents know that I’m with someone else.

Finding out that he was taken prisoner still hurt to find out. But maybe that’s why I seem to be thinking of him like this.

I miss him.

No matter what we went through. When I had Leon by my side, no matter the circumstances, I always felt safe. I feel that way with Richard too, but somehow, it’s just not the same. Richard is sweet and perhaps the kindest man I’ve ever known. He’s so gentle, caring, and patient with me and pretty much everything else, more so than Leon ever was before.

But the thing that always drew me to Leon wasn’t necessarily his kind and gentle side – which he does have – but instead was his fierce nature. Leon always had a tendency to feel strongly about everything. Like his emotions were hypersensitive to the world around him. It caused him to love me passionately, and protect me with an unyielding ruthlessness. But in the calm of things he always knew how to smile. I wonder if he still smiles like that anymore.

Guilt starts to wrack my mind as I think back on the fact that I didn’t answer the last few times Leon called before he was captured. Not only did I not answer, but I didn’t answer because I was spending time with Richard.

I feel the warmth of tears on my forearm and I shift to my side, curling in to a ball as my face flushes and I begin to sob.

I feel so small right now.

What am I doing? This isn’t who I am. I think to myself, causing tears to fall more rapidly.

That same familiar warmth touches my shoulder. I look up to see Richard with that same face when he sees me like this.

“You okay?” He asks the same thing that he has numerous times before.

I can’t let myself think about Leon anymore. Richard is the one who’s here. I sit up and place Richard’s face in my hands, kissing him deeply. Emotion and passion take control after that as I pull him on top of me.

Leon’s presence is placed in a box in the corner of my mind. Only this time, I decide to place a lock on that box. I reach for my tank top and pull it off. Richard can’t help but stop a moment to indulge in the sight of me and when he resumes kissing me, his fervor is all the more passionate.

I feel his body become hotter with every touch of his hand on my exposed skin causing goose bumps to crawl up and down my body. He makes love to me that night with such intense ardor, but also with that same kindness and attention. I can’t say that I didn’t feel ecstasy in this moment. How do I tell him that it was Leon I was fantasizing about caressing me that night...?

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