[Original] Blood for Blood

A continuation of the previous blog post, this excerpt is from the second draft of the story where I wanted to write a story from a pilot’s point of view.

Success is measured in blood; yours or your enemy’s.

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”Move it, move it, I wanted each and every one of your sorry asses on the flight deck ten minutes ago!” Every pilot brought their sprint to a stop as they lined up in front of the captain. The alarms blared through the cacophony of noise around them, but not even that could stop the officer’s voice from booming over it.

“Here it comes,” Beauregard said under his breath. Trudeau jabbed him in the side with his elbow to cut off his snickering, earning himself a yelp of pain from Beauregard.

“Pay attention,” Trudeau gruffly said.

“You’ve all been briefed already, gentlemen,” the captain continued. “You know what we’re flying into. The Federation’s finest soldiers, crewmen, and pilots today are going up against an enemy force that undoubtedly has a few tricks up their sleeves. They have better shields, energy weapons, and one hell of a terrifying fleet. But we all know what really makes or breaks a war: the soldiers.” All heads before the commander nodded approvingly.

“I’d say having a bigger gun helps,” Grant said. “We don’t even know if their weapons can pierce our energy shields.”

“Well, I guess we better not get hit, then, huh?” Beauregard said.

“Each and every one of you I have served with through dozens of missions." The captain's gaze drifted along the formation. "And along the way, we picked up some recruits: some new faces, ones that have yet to truly understand what it means to be a Crimson Talon.” He looked between the faces of every new blood in the wing, a paltry handful with Beauregard among them. “But today, I’m certain… you’ll come to understand what our motto stands for.”

“Blood for blood,” Grant recited quietly.

“Blood for blood,” Trudeau repeated.

“Blood for blood,” Beauregard echoed.

“Blood for blood,” the captain said. “This whole shitstorm started because our enemy, the unknown opposition that sits so surely within their black ships behind the safety of their advanced technology, thought that they could get away with violating the Arms Neutrality Treaty. They thought that they could get away with exploiting defenseless worlds in the Dark Expanse. They thought that they could undermine everything that the Federation has worked for to ensure positive first contact. These assholes came and shit over everything we stood for, and now they’re going to pay dearly for it.

“They think fancy toys and flashy guns are going to win them this war? That’s what the pirates thought when they ambushed our wing in the Western Expanse. Our Typhoons are some of the oldest craft in the Federation’s arsenal, and we still kicked their asses with them. It’s not about the technology, Talons, though you can rest assured that FedTech is working to bring us up to their level. No, it’s about us: the pilots. The enemy, as far as we’re concerned, doesn’t even have a single victory to their name, and that’s what makes us better than them. We’re masters at this game, and it’s time to welcome these scrubs to the big leagues. It’s cleaning season, gentlemen. Helmets on!”

In unison, the entire wing donned their helmets. Grant’s sealed with a hiss as his helmet clamped down onto his flight suit. His HUD flashed its greeting message as it initialized to show the designations of every section in the wing.

Welcome, Lieutenant Grant Harville, Section Six Lead.

His HUD traced bright lines around the periphery of his vision as his view became clouded with information that was filtered away. At the sides of his screen showed the names Beau and Ghost, the callsigns for Beauregard and Trudeau. At the head of the formation, the captain’s callsign stood high above the others in the rank and file: King Talon.

“Two good pilots died trying to warn the Federation about this mess. Let’s make sure their deaths weren’t in vain,” King Talon said. He turned around and marched down the launch pads, pointing at the ensuing naval battle going on outside of the shielded bay gates as the pilots all scrambled to their fighters. “All sections will insert together. No space battles today, kids, ‘cause we’re going planetside to establish aerial superiority and bailing out our boys on the ground.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, boss,” Trudeau said, peeling away from Grant’s shadow as he proceeded to his craft. Beauregard was next, until Grant reached his fighter. It sat at the end of the launch line, with Section Twelve’s lead set to launch after him. He climbed up the ladders and into the open cockpit. "These guys are way too well-armed for organized rogues."

“I picked a bad day to join with you guys, huh?” Beauregard laughed nervously, shaking his head, as his canopy closed and his head disappeared behind metal plating. “Let’s hope that’s all the bad luck I’ll have today…”

“You did well in the Western Expanse, Beauregard,” Grant said, his cockpit fading into darkness as the canopy closed. A trio of beeps followed until the simulated reality system activated and he was greeted with an artificial image of the world outside. “You’re from the Hall of the Twin Soldiers, you should be able to do anything a Suncastle flyboy can do and then some.”

“Playing chicken in trade lanes isn’t a lot like flying into the gauntlet…”

“Yeah, but you grew up exposed to Federation naval craft. And from your records, had more than a few tussles with them.” The launch pad thumped, and Grant gave his systems another check to ensure that he was ready to enter the fray. “You know your way around your Typhoon, and that’s a requirement to become a Crimson Talon. King Talon must have saw something in you, else you wouldn’t have been offered the spot.’

“The captain himself looks over all the candidates?” Beauregard seemed taken aback. “Thought it was always the paper pushers and brass who did that… or the Strategic Service.”

“Nah, it’s the top man himself. Have a little more faith in yourself. Now lock in tight, ‘cause this entry is going to be a storm of AA fire if the Service has their heads on straight.” Grant keyed his comm. “Talon Six to Control, do you read?”

“We read you loud and clear, Talon Six. Talon Five is set to launch… now. You’re up next. Confirm check on systems and engine.”

“Section, report in,” Grant said.

“Ghost, systems green and engines hot,” said Trudeau.

“Beau, systems green, engines hot and ready to go,” Beauregard said.

“Talon Six is ready, Control. All systems green and engines hot.”

“Copy that, Talon Six. Godspeed and good luck. Give ‘em hell out there.”

The catapult launched and Grant felt the force propel his craft into space and in orbit above the planet Magi I.