He turned to face them, just as Commander Pio-Tolis arrived and stood to the side. She watched in silence along with the crews of the training flight’s instruction craft.

  He turned and repositioned himself in front of Chertsin’s Commandos. “I don’t know who to chew out first,” he began, in a tone so soft that the cadets had to strain their ears to hear him. “Do you idiots realize that not a single training flight this cycle launched with all its WSOs performing properly? Some did not even do the simplest of tasks, only sat back and watched!”

  Grunt’s barking voice forced many back as it echoed across the hangar.

  “This little stunt of yours could have gotten you all killed. I don’t care how it started.” He paused for a moment and eyed Torgen. “It seems that nearly every class finds it necessary to do something like this at some point. But most are smart enough to do it in the SIMS!!!” he hollered, jumping into Rovlin’s face. “Now, hear this! You are not two individuals in that fighter. You are a crew, one organism dedicated to controlling your craft. When one of you fails, the whole of you fails. You all saw that this cycle. So it seems we need to make it clear to all of you just how much you need each other, Chief?”

  Chief Flind strode up, his massive frame dwarfing the smaller Drashig marine behind him. With a loud clatter of metal hinting at its contents, he set a large box on the deck in front of the two squadrons. He allowed them a moment of silent speculation before clicking it open with one of his foot claws to reveal a box full of metal wrist binders. Chief Flind growled at them with a throaty rumble as they peered inside. “Every single crew that endangered one of my fighters by acting like fools gets to wear a set of these, for the next five cycles. Personally, given that this squadron started all this nonsense, I think that the Admiral is being too lenient on you. Were it up to me, I would wash you all out for this stunt.”

  Grunt stepped up, grabbing a set of binders with a foot before passing it to his hand and held it out in front of them. “You will remain bound to your crew member at all times, and will have to act as the other’s bound hand. If this doesn’t teach you to work together as a team, nothing will. Now, step up.”

  Chertsin’s Commandos stepped up two at a time, Grunt and Chief Flind binding them together.

  “Any of you who unlock your bindings will be immediately escorted to the space dock and removed from service. This is your last chance, screw it up and you go home,” Grunt explained as he cuffed the last pair together.

  After Chertsin and Rovlin returned to their paddock, they looked at the Monstero Nach, malice in their eyes. The Monstero Nach stood firm.

  “Monstero Nach, you are free to go to your debriefing.”

  Saldray raised his hand as the Monstero Nach headed off and Grunt nodded to him. “Sir.”

  “Yes Cadet?”

  “Sir, how be we supposed to be changing out of our flightsuits, be bathing, or attending classes. I not be sharing hardly any with my WSO?”

  “You should have thought of that before,” Grunt replied, fixing the larger man with a hard gaze that made even the intimidating Tomeris warrior shrink away. “Now, three laps around the circumference, downspin, then to your debriefing,” Grunt ordered.

  The Commandos groaned.

  “Make that four laps, care for five?”

  The squadron remained silent before Grunt motioned them to begin and they started running.

  The assembled officers watched as the squadron ran off across the low-gravity hangar deck and with a wicked grin, Chief Flind called out. “Why are you running? This isn’t a scramble you do not run on my hangar deck outside of a scramble.”

  The cadets dropped back into a walk, shuffling clumsily across the deck.

  “I said run,” Grunt barked and the cadets bounded across the deck again.

  “Why are you running?” Chief Flind hollered.

  The cadets slowed down to a trot in response.

  “Hurry it up, you have classes after your debriefing!”

  The cadets started into a run once again.

  The walk, run calls continued until the cadets reached the lift pads, the officers suppressing their amusement. As the cadets descended to the main level of the academy, the officers looked at each other smiling before they headed off to the debriefing. Chief Flind remained behind to service the fighters. One of his techs called him over to Chertsin’s ship and pointed silently at the shattered view screen.

  UCSB DATE: 1002.344

  Primary Cargo Hold, Freighter Mareg, Stawt System

  This is so much better than chemistry class Porc mused, dodging a hail of mass-driver rounds. He dove from cover onto the ceiling of the next cargo shelf up the bay. He joined his squadmates there, the mad grin on his face hidden by his helmet. Floating in the zero-g cargo hold, he craned his neck and looked over his shoulder through the floor to the next shelf of vertically-aligned transport cargo. What was in those crates blocked his helmet’s sensors, forcing him to extend a fiber camera to sneak a look at their objective.

  He chuckled at what he saw. Six armed civilians crowded the entry hatch to the transport’s bridge. Their weapons fire was wild, streaking into the cargo bay whenever they spotted movement. Porc checked the setting on his rifle, and ensured that he still had it set to stun.

  The stun setting didn’t sit right with him, given that the people in control of this ship were taking no such precautions. Feeling his leg, he knew that their lives were truly on the line. The cigars in the hidden pockets of his body-glove were a clear indication that this was no training exercise. The technicians and instructors had no idea that this was where he hid his victory cigars and their absence always served as a clear indication of when he was in a simulation. The operation was just like the real missions other teams were going out on; low-priority, low-risk missions in Confed space against local insurgents or pirates. Or, in this case, misguided college kids.

  Porc snorted again as another hail of mass-driver rounds cracked past him. The echo of their impact against the lower bulkhead made him grit his teeth. “Lead, I thought these jokers were supposed to be pacifists?”

  “Aye, they be thinking that the war be wrong, that negotiations be the way.”

  Porc shook his head. The Confederation was in constant negotiations with the Galactic Federation. It was the goal of the Diplomatic Corps to find an end to the war that wouldn’t result in mutual annihilation or genocide. “Isn’t it kind of hypocritical of them to shoot as us then?”

  As much as Porc relished going out on a mission, the parameters of this one frustrated him to no end. Two cycles before, this Confederation military cargo freighter had beed docked at a civilian spaceport. It had carried multiple prototype tanks, ground vehicles, munitions and equipment on their way to field testing. A group of liberal college students, their heads filled with theory and little practical knowledge, had decided to steal the ship in protest. They’d rocketed out of the system, escaping into hyperspace before the freshman engineering student running the engines realized that he hadn’t calibrated the hyperspace shield correctly. They’d slipped into this system with less than a pulse to spare before their shields collapsed.

  Intelligence stated that the students were unarmed and wouldn’t put up a fight. Therefore, their orders stated that the Explosions must not damage the ship or its cargo. Nor were they to kill any of the students. Intelligence was wrong, go figure.

  Upon docking, the students had greeted the Explosins at the aft airlock with a hail of mass-driver rounds. The environmental team was on point, and Lindil had taken the brunt of the assault. Her ACHES had saved her from death, but she would need surgery as soon as they returned home. Their weapons on stun, Roilin and the rest of the environmental team had made quick work of the students who’d ambushed them.

  Roilin had had to hold Dosher back from killing the gun-wielding student as Telsh patched up Lindil’s wounds. Trevis ordered the environmental team to hold their position. Their primary tool was various knockout gasses and that wouldn’t work on this ship. Each compartment had its own separate environmental controls.

  “We be discussing that with them after we take the ship,” Telsh called back.

  Porc called up Lindil’s condition in his helmet. She was stable and Dosher was doing a good job taking care of her. Still, the round that had pierced her armor had perforated her upper intestine. Despite Telsh giving her an injection of medical nanobots she needed a doctor.

  “We need to be taking this place quick,” Telsh commented. The indicator told Porc she was checking on Lindil’s condition too.

  Trevis nodded, watching via his own extended fiber camera as the gunman dropped back into the bridge. “Aye, next time he be coming out Nash, you move. Be throwing in a stun grenade, and the rest of us be following.”

  Ller grunted.

  In the background the micomm link picked up the engineering student’s blubbering about coming along to impress a girl.

 

 
  “And breaking more than even I would.” Porc groused and tensed as he spotted movement behind the hatch. “Nash you’re on.”

  Nash replied with a blue light on everyone’s HUD. When the hatch to the forward compartment opened again, he leapt across the zero gravity cargo hold to the next shelf, tossing a stun grenade at the opening. The door slid aside as the gun-wielding students emerged and the grenade caught one in the chest knocking him back before it exploded.

  Diffused plasma expanded out from the spherical bomb, tazing the students. The rest of the bridge team sprang from cover, firing stun blasts at the hatch. The students’ lack of armor allowed Porc’s helmet sensors to get a clear reading on the vitals of the student who’d taken the stun grenade to the chest. He hissed in disgust.

  If this were some Geffer, Porc wouldn’t have cared a tick. But their orders were clear, no civilian casualties. More importantly, this kid was a Nerzain, and Nerzain didn’t kill their own.

  Telsh analyzed the feed from Porc’s sensors.

  Trevis cursed through the link. Rushing now would only cause them to make more mistakes, or get someone killed.

  Porc looked back at the hatch. There was no movement there, but he couldn’t see what was beyond it. Past that inner airlock he knew was the ladder well up to the bridge, the crew’s quarters, medical suite, dining, and recreation facilities.

  Trevis asked.

  Intelligence had confirmed that the students taking the transport had numbered thirty. The team captured six upon arrival, the engineering team securing four more in the engine room. Trevis’ team stunned eight more, binding them up in the cargo hold. Proc looked back at the hatch. Four floating shapes greeted him.

  Telsh reminded them, the count flashing in their HUDs.

  Porc looked back at the hatch. The vitals on the student floating just inside the hatch began to fade. “Telsh that punk’s about to croak - we need to move, now!”

  “Confirmed,” Trevis called out, the team still displaying a bad habit of not consistently using their micomm link in close quarters.

  Porc signaled Nash and vaulted for the hatch. Weapons at the ready, the pair landed beside the hatch. After ensuring that the ladder well was clear they climbed through. Porc and Nash scanned the cylindrical shaft. Shapes moved in the next two levels. None appeared armed from the thermal signatures, but they couldn’t be sure. As Trevis and Telsh arrived to bind and attend to the student protesters at the hatch, Porc and Nash leapt for the next level.

  Using the magnetic latches in his boots, Porc landed in the hatchway, and found two students huddled against the back wall of the short passageway. His HUD identified them as members of the group that had taken the ship. They just sat there holding up their hands. “Please, we made a mistake, don’t kill us.”

  Porc held his rifle on them as they cowered before him and fired a stun blast into each of them. Protocol in a situation like this was simple; stun first and sort out the details later. Even unarmed these protesters could still endanger the mission. Signaling that his side was clear as well, Nash and Porc dropped back into the ladder well, and sealed the hatches before leaping for the next level.

  There was no one on that level and, floating over to the hatch to the bridge, the pair flipped over to land against the bulkhead. They scanned through the bulkhead into the bridge beyond. Eight hot objects appeared before them. Four sat in seats off to the side. Their arms looked bound behind their backs as four more gathered around the hatch. Bugger me sideways! The hijackers carried mass-drivers, not plasers, and at such close range, those rounds could pierce their armor. Porc had no interest in ending up like Lindil, but they had to act fast. “What do you think Nash?” he whispered.

  “If we try a stun grenade they’ll pop us before it can go off.”

  Porc considered that and looked around for anything of use. “Evacuate the air, knock ‘em out?”

  “Only if you want to blow a hole out into space and kill the hostages too. The environmental controls for this section are in there.”

  Huh, I can patch a hole quick, but I would need a patch first.

  Trevis called as he drifted up the ladder well towards them.

  Trevis landed with a hard thump between the pair, making the shapes on the opposite side of the hatch shuffle.

  Ller replied.

  Porc asked looking away from the hostages.

 

  Porc looked at Trevis apprehensively; their orders had been clear about limiting damage, but this was their lives here. Trevis considered for a moment then nodded and leapt up to the hatch into the dining area, Porc and Nash following. Using the sensors in their ACHES, they found the weakest point in the bulkhead. They verified that it had the fewest electrical conduits behind it and that would allow even the big Tomeris team members access.

  Nash set the breaching charge then took up a position alongside Trevis and Porc.

  “After Nash be blowing the hatch, I be wanting you through first Porc. I be following, then Nash. First target be the four hijackers about the hatch. Don’t be popping off shots on the seated folks. One of the hostages be having a heart condition if intel be right. A stun blast could be killing him.”

  Porc grumbled at that and signaled his readiness.

  Nash blew the charge, launching the chunk of bulkhead into the bridge before Porc jumped through.

  Porc lived for this, and leapt through the jagged opening. Their vision obscured by smoke and with no combat training, the four students stumbled blindly away from the hatch. They flipped and stumbled about in the zero gravity bridge as Porc opened fire. The three shots were precise, he wasn’t one to “spray and pray” and each one caught one of the floating hijackers in the chest. The hijackers still managed to fire off a few wild rounds however and one caught Porc in the leg. The hit shattered the armor on his left shin and sent him tumbling.

  Porc regained control over his tumbling body as Trevis climbed through the hole and fired two rounds at the last standing hijacker. The diffuse plasma rounds caught the man in the thigh and then the torso. Porc rebounded against the ceiling of the bridge and casting his rifle aside, launched himself towards the four seated individuals. His HUD identified them, and they began to yell and scream about who was and was not a hijacker.

  He’d had enough of this, and pulling his sidearm with his left hand extended his blade claws from the right. The four men seated before him looked on in terror as Porc flew towards them and drew his arm back to strike at them. Before he reached arm's distance however, he put two stun rounds into each of the hijackers, silencing them. He flipped over and landed behind the four to see that the hijackers each carried stun pistols in their unbound hands. Porc made short work of the hostage’s bindings, slashing them open before signaling to Trevis.

  Trevis surveyed the scene as Nash clambered through the hole and leapt off to start binding the hijackers for transport.

  Telsh was the first to respond.

  Ller replied next.

  Dosher replied last.

  Trevis paused to consider as Porc and Nash assembled the unconscious student hijackers in the corner.

 

  Dorm Room 305, UCSBA-13, Star System: Classified

  News of any unscheduled ship entering the system was always big news after the attack on the academy two annura before. The fact that it was a Confed military transport did not allay any concerns. News that the Explosions were bringing it in with two wounded onboard, turned apprehension about an attack, into fear that one of their own might have been killed. The transport heaved to just off the jump point, with half the team staying behind to keep watch over the prisoners as the rest rushed back to the academy with the wounded.