October 19th, 2173
14:35 EST
Hades-Gamma-Cluster
Anateus-System
SSV Hyderabad
Flight Lieutenant 2nd Class Roger O'Brian
Roger could think about a dozen other things he would prefer to fill out a maintenance report, but some things just had to be done. In particular, if one lived on a military ship.
Sometimes he wondered if there would come a moment some idiot up the food chain would decide that there had to be reports about the number of toilet papers used. By the number of ridiculous ones that were floating around, it wouldn't be too surprising.
His cousin, Iris, once told him her theory that their goal was to distract the crew members and direct their anger and bottled-up energy at the people demanding those reports to reduce altercations between them.
It certainly sounded a lot smarter than anything he could come up with!
And Iris studied psychology for half a year before she decided that healing the mind wasn't as interesting or exciting as shooting guns and went to join the Alliance Marine Corps.
While most of his extended family had bemoaned her decision, Roger had been happy for her. After all, if she was happy, then what else did count? And she was good at it!
She recently wrote him she finished the N2-course and got invited to the N3-course. Furthermore, she didn't elaborate on it -apparently, it was hush-hush- but she got an offer to join some special program if she finished the N4 training with the same marks she finished her previous two.
He got never invited to any special program, but he wasn't as good a soldier as her, so it was okay. She was her, and he was him. Every person is different.
It helped to know that she would never be as good as him when it came to piloting or driving. When they were young, Roger trounced her in every simulation, and that stayed the same until now.
Furthermore, it wouldn't take long until he could apply to the next round of assessments at Arcturus Station, only this last escort mission.
And if he finished the tests with a good grade, it would show up in his file, and his chances for a promotion would shoot up.
"Still writing that report?" asked a voice behind him.
Roger turned his head to look over his shoulder and saw his wingman, Tobias Brenston, coming towards him.
"You know how many things go into them. It doesn't help that it's a dull affair, too," responded Roger with a shrug.
"Don't I know it," agreed Tobias. "I finished mine not too long ago. Handed it in and got me something to eat."
"Lucky you," grumbled Roger. "I've been at it for an hour or two, and it still needs some time. Everything's in order, but I'm double-checking to be on the safe side."
"Always a good idea. It would be embarrassing if your fighter didn't even get into the air because of a part you thought was working but actually wasn't."
"Like Jeremy?" asked Roger with a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Like Jeremy," agreed Tobias laughingly.
"I can't believe he forgot to reconnect the generator with the rest of the fighter after he finished his maintenance. And right before a drill, too!"
"I'm still sure that the commander only screamed at him so much that he didn't start laughing at Jeremy's stupidity. I saw the corners of his mouth twitching upwards ever so often during his rant."
"And I still say that you were hallucinating," countered Roger. "The commander and laughing don't belong in the same sentence."
Tobias snorted. "Yeah, you're right, but we should stop talking about him, or he will appear behind us and start another of his rants." He looked over Roger's fighter and asked:" Do you want some help? I have some free time, and if two are working on it, it should be over faster."
"That would be great," Roger agreed thankfully and handed him the tablet with the report open on the front. "Here, take this. My hands are dirty anyway, so it's better if I check the parts. Besides, I know what I already checked."
"Good thinking. Double-checking is alright, but triple checking is overkill."
Roger went to the open maintenance hatch of his fighter and started to go through the list of parts he still had to check to make sure they were working properly.
They were working in silence for a few minutes, only interrupted whenever Roger called out the parts he finished checking so that Tobias could mark them on the report.
That went on until his hand touched one of the screws keeping an important part secured.
"Hey, can you give me the screwdriver? One of the screws securing the primary turbo-supercharger is a bit loose."
"Sure, wouldn't want that part going its own way during a high-speed fight," answered Tobias and went to the toolbox that was standing at the side. "Still got the standard screws?"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Heard from Daphne that she was exchanging the standard screws for A23-screws. Apparently, the bigger diameter helps secure the turbo better. At least she didn't have any problems with it getting even slightly loose."
"And how did she get that through the commander? Those screws are definitely not regulation, and that man would get on our cases if we even put a sticker on the insides of the cockpit."
"She filled out a request to use the A23-screws as an official experiment to improve the efficiency of our fighters. As long as you make it official, and it could really improve their performance, the commander is okay with it."
"Nice to know," grumbled Roger. "I'll fill one out the next time. To have more objects to compare or so."
"Me, too," agreed Tobias with a nod and handed Roger the needed screwdriver. "But let us finish this one first before we even think about more paperwork."
"Yeah, you're right."
"Besides," continued Tobias, "it could be that we'll be getting new fighters in the future."
"Do you know something that I don't?" asked Tobias while making sure the screw couldn't move one bit after retightening it.
"Heard a rumor from my friend on the Citadel."
"You have friends everywhere, don't you?"
"Hey, what can I say?" answered Tobias with a shrug. "I'm a popular guy."
"You were just lucky enough to be born with a slightly handsome look, you ass," countered Roger.
And it was true. While Roger could be called rugged with his bigger-than-average nose and eternally disheveled red hair, Tobias could charm anyone he met. Brown curly hair, dark blue eyes, and pearly white teeth. Add those features to his open and charismatic personality, and people flocked to him whenever they went out when they had shore leave.
Yet, for some reason, Tobias couldn't hold a relationship for longer than a month.
In his words, that was because he didn't want to bind himself so early in his life, but Roger knew it was because Tobias was an ass and an idiot deep down. A lovable idiot and a good friend but an idiot nonetheless.
"And I thank my mother for it every day," Tobias responded with a grin.
"Yeah, yeah. Instead of continuing to sing hymns in your mother's honor, could you please give me the ammeter? I wanna check if the current flow is alright."
"Sure thing."
"Oh, and by the way, is your mother still on your case? Last I heard, she wants some grandbabies," teased Roger.
Since he had heard Tobias coming closer to him after finding the ammeter, he held his arm back, expecting Tobias to put it in his hand. Yet, after waiting a few seconds he still couldn't feel anything, so he turned his head back, only to see his friend frozen with a deep red face.
"Hey, Tobias, are you ok?" he asked, concerned at seeing his friend so.
"How do you know that?" whispered Tobias, and Roger could hear the shock and horror in his voice.
Oh, that's why.
"You forgot to turn off the loudspeaker the last time you spoke with her," Roger answered with a grin.
"But there wasn't anyone in the room!"
"Melanie stood before it. And it was loud enough to echo through the door."
"So it isn't just you, but her who knows too?" Tobias asked, horrified.
"Not just us," chuckled Roger, and could barely hold back laughing out loud at the sight of his friend's facial expression. "She told the story in the mess hall. That's how I know. So I would say the whole ship knows by now. You forgot how much of a gossip she is."
"Fuck!" Tobias cursed out loudly. "Doesn't she know that some things should stay private?"
"Didn't you tell her something two weeks ago, expecting the same to happen?"
"That's not the same!" Tobias dismissed the accusation, fleeing towards the arms of an age-old friend, hypocrisy.
"Sure it isn't," said Roger with an eye-roll. "Anyway, now that you're out of your state of shock, can you finally give me the ammeter? My arm's getting numb."
"Here," grumbled Tobias and gave him the ammeter before continuing to curse under his breath.
"So, what were you going to tell me? Something about a rumor you got from a friend on the Citadel?" asked Roger, giving Tobias the opportunity to change the topic.
"Right!" exclaimed Tobias, glad for the chance to shove the topic of everybody knowing about his talk with his mother to the back of his thoughts.
"So, as I said, I got a friend that works as a security guard at the embassy. She sees and checks everybody that comes and goes. And do you know who came by a few months ago?"
"No, but you're going to tell me anyway," responded Roger while connecting the ammeter to a different cable.
"Oscar Denebren."
"The Oscar Denebren?" asked Roger, turning his head away from the inside of his fighter to look at Tobias. After seeing the grin on Tobias' face, Roger knew that he was telling the truth.
"Yup, the Oscar Denebren. The man who probably funded and developed more than half of our equipment. Our fighters came out of his factories, so who knows what else."
"Yeah, yeah, we all know what he's done for the Alliance. But I wanna know about the rumor you're talking about," urged Roger. Whenever Oscar Denebren was involved, things got interesting. Dozens of rumors were floating around about the man, and if one started to believe everything said about him, then Oscar was a half-god sent by the heavens to lead humanity into a golden age that would last thousand and one years.
Complete bullshit, but Roger could understand why some people believed that. Yet, like his grandpa said: a man is a man, no matter what he does. Oscar Denebren may appear as all those things people said about him, but in the end, he was still a normal human.
Still, even if he was just a man, it didn't diminish anything he created and achieved. Oscar Denebren wasn't slowly becoming a living legend for nothing.
"I'm getting to it," replied Tobias with a hand gesture that said: Patience.
"So, he meets with our ambassador, which isn't really surprising. After all, who else is he going to visit there, right? Major Alec Ryder, the military attaché, is called to the ambassador a few hours later, and he leaves shortly after their talk. Two days later, he comes back to the embassy and resigns his post."
"Just the one at the embassy?" asked Roger.
"Nope," answered Tobias. "Apparently, he resigned from the Alliance, too. As far as my friend knows, he got a job offer from Denebren and took it. It's what I would do. Ad Astra is probably paying a lot better than the Alliance."
"Thinking about leaving the Alliance and taking a job there?"
"Wish I could," sighed Tobias. "I still have a few years of service ahead of me before I can even think about resigning. But after that? Who knows. If they offered me a job, I wouldn't say no. Don't think anyone would say no."
"So, I'll still have you as my wingman for a little longer?"
"You're not getting rid of me that easily," joked Tobias.
"One can dream," sighed Roger jokingly. "Yet, you still haven't told me why you think that we're getting new fighters? Does Major Ryder specialize in engineering? Is he the one creating a new model?"
"Don't think so. I heard that Ryder specializes in programming and computer sciences. But there was some buzz in the Citadel HQ of Ad Astra around the time Ryder resigned. Even my friend didn't know much, but she learned that there was a major shift in the priorities of the Research and Development Division."
"A major shift? What does that mean?" asked Roger. "And if there was a shift, what did they prioritize before?"
"I don't know any details, but they shifted their focus away from developing the new generation of dreadnoughts to other ship types."
"Away from dreadnoughts?" repeated Tobias quietly to himself as he let his eyes wander over the different parts of his fighter engine to check if he forgot anything.
"Sounds good to me," he said as he closed the maintenance hatch.
"And what do you mean by that?" asked Tobias while going over the points of the report to double-check if they forgot anything.
"With the treaty of Farixen still in play, the Alliance can't field many dreadnoughts. There's no reason, in my opinion, why we should concentrate on them if we could improve every other ship. If a frigate, for example, could hit half, or even just a third, as hard as a dreadnought..."
"And since they aren't restricted by any treaty, we could build as many as we wanted," continued Tobias.
"Exactly," agreed Roger with a nod. "The overall firepower of the Alliance Navy would shoot up. And, of course, there are other ship types, too. Cruisers, destroyers, carriers, and fighters. If they all got an upgrade, a limited number of dreadnoughts wouldn't matter so much to us."
Tobias scratched his chin with his thumb and looked thoughtful. "It would give us room to use different tactics and strategies. After all, the standard tactic in space battles is to form two lines and shoot each other, and the one with the bigger or more guns is usually the winner. It's the same tactic we used when we first invented guns."
"Any idea why that's still the usual tactic?" Roger asked while cleaning his hands from the oil that got on them during the maintenance.
"Well, I think that's because..."
But before Tobias could voice his thoughts, a siren echoed through the hangar bay, and a voice called out over the intercom:
"Attention to all personnel. Two frigates, Turian model, appeared on our scanners. Allegiance currently unknown. Alarm code yellow."
Roger and Tobias looked at each other meaningfully and walked toward the lockers that stood next to the entrance to the hangar bay.
"Well, it's good that we're already here. So we can get our gear on quick," said Tobias while tipping in the code to open his locker. Its door opened with a quiet hiss.
Roger did the same and took out his flight suit. "I'm happier that I finished the maintenance on my fighter before the alarm sounded. I would hate to be grounded if we had to get out there," he responded with a smile.
"Always looking for action, huh?"
"Don't say it like that. Aren't you the same?"
"Guilty as charged," confirmed Tobias with a chuckle.
Without further conversation, they put on all their gear except their helmets with the speed and grace of those who trained until they could do it without thinking about it even for one second.
Shortly before they finished, the door to the hangar opened, and two of their fellow fighter pilots, Anya and Constantin, entered.
They greeted each other with short nods but kept silent otherwise. The situation wasn't too tense right now, but it could turn so in a heartbeat. So, they let each other have those remaining calm moments before they potentially entered into battle.
Tobias and Roger moved away from the lockers and busied themselves with putting away the tools Roger used for the maintenance of his fighter instead of just standing around and waiting for further orders.
If Roger had to start his fighter, all those tools lying behind it, they would be thrown around the hangar bay by the propulsion of the jet engine.
They put their helmets on the ground and started to clean up.
The door opened twice again as they worked and admitted five more two-man teams into the hangar, who put on their flight suits just as fast as Tobias and Roger.
Anya and Constantin walked over to help them after they finished gearing up, and together they put all tools away before the last fighter pilot got their suit on.
With nothing more to do, all pilots went to their respective fighters and entered the cockpit, and started with the pre-flight checkups. The order to fly out didn't come yet, but it didn't hurt to prepare.
Roger was halfway done with his checkup when the intercom howled with a short but sharp alarm.
"Attention! Frigates identified. Pirate attack imminent. All combat personnel to their post. Fighters in the air. Alarm code red."
A cold shudder went down Roger's back. If it was because of the suddenly tense atmosphere or anything else, he didn't know. But what he did know was that it came at the right moment to wake his mind fully up. And he would need all his mental faculties for what was to come. Anything else could mean his death.
One moment of inattentiveness and it would be over. There was no coming back from death. And death was something Roger only wanted to experience when he was gray and old.
He finished his checkups as fast as he could and put his helmet on. With expert movements, Roger connected it to the rest of the suit, and a flick of the wrist was all he needed to activate the connection. The slight looseness of his flight suit disappeared, and it nestled itself onto his body.
It took just a moment longer, and the restricted field of vision of his visor expanded. The inner side of his helmet synchronized with the small cameras on the outside, and Roger could see as if he weren't wearing a helmet at all.
A click sounded through his helmet, and the voice of the flight commander sounded: "Comms check. All units respond."
One after another, the fighter pilots gave their all clear, and when it came to Roger's turn, he said: "Delta-Two here. All systems green."
After everyone replied, and thankfully nobody had any problems with their fighters, the commander spoke again.
"Two pirate frigates were identified not ten minutes ago. They need another ten minutes to be in firing range. Their expected target is the freighter we escort. The enemy sent out half a dozen fighters. Your task is to engage them and keep them away from our ships. When your task is completed, get close to one of the frigates, which exactly is to be determined. Keep the frigate occupied. Get into the air in thirty seconds intervals. Team Alpha starts in 60 seconds. From now on!"
150 seconds until it was Tobias and Roger's turn to fly out. It would take 45 seconds until the jet engines had enough power to propel the fighter out of the hangar at the optimal speed to enter combat immediately, if necessary. The minimum time needed to get enough energy into the engine was fifteen seconds and only to be done if the situation required it.
Yet, an expert pilot could reduce the time to ten seconds if he knew how to reroute the energy, and how much of it, from non-critical systems to the propulsion.
The number of pilots who could pull it off was infinitesimal low, at least without ending in a fireball shortly after. The pilot had to assess the situation perfectly, so they wouldn't end up as an easy target for the enemy. In the end, most pilots who could do it didn't do it because the situations where a fast start like this was necessary weren't the kind one could go in half-prepared.
In the blink of an eye, a hundred seconds passed, and Roger activated the start sequence.
"Are you ready?" asked Tobias over comm.
"Yes," answered Roger shortly without his hands stopping for a moment. His eyes went over every screen, taking in every piece of data they displayed. "What about you? Is everything alright?"
"Of course," Tobias replied. "A slight energy spike in the weapon systems but nothing too concerning. It's probably because of the new cables I installed. They always work better in the first three flights."
"If you say so. I hope you know what you're talking about. If I have to pull your ass out of the fire because your systems fail, you're going to pay the next three bar nights during our shore leave."
"Same to you. And make it five."
A small smile played over Roger's lips. The pre-combat banter between him and Tobias always helped him to release some of the tension that build up every time before a battle.
Somehow, he knew that Tobias was the same. He was the one that started this tradition, and at the beginning, he was the one that sounded like the one who needed it the most. Over time, the hidden nervousness in his voice disappeared, but he never failed to make a few comments before any battle. It became something like a good luck charm for them.
"Ten seconds," said Roger and made sure that the most important notifications about his fighter's systems would appear on his HUD.
"Then let's go flying," responded Tobias.
Roger counted the last five seconds down in his head.
Four, three, two...
When his countdown hit zero, Roger hit the release button for the brakes, and his fighter shot forward out of the hangar.
He flew in a straight line before swerving right toward the enemy. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Tobias' fighter. He was to Roger's right and a little forward.
"Good start. Now, let's get closer, slow and steady," said Tobias. "Alpha-1 has the lead during the approach. When we're close enough, she's going to assign targets, so that we're not all going after the same one."
"Alright," confirmed Roger. "We're going to proceed as usual?"
"Of course, the others will do the same."
There was an understanding between all fighter pilots of the Hyderabad. You eliminated your assigned targets as fast as possible and moved on to help the others. Safety in numbers and all that.
"Do you know if reinforcements are on the way?" Roger asked. While there was no doubt that the Hyderabad could deal with the two pirate frigates, it wouldn't hurt to have reinforcements.
"How should I know?" replied Tobias. "I was the whole time with you. And if you don't know, I don't know. It's regulation to send a message over the Alliance comm channels, but we're quite far out. So, I don't know if anyone is close enough to support us. I'm sure the freighter did the same."
"Perhaps we're in luck, and there is someone close to us," mused Roger.
"Enemies in range in two minutes," came another voice, the voice of Alpha-1, over the comm channels. "Cease private chatter, and keep the channels clear for battle information. Our scanners are picking up exact data about their fighters. Your computers should receive your designated targets now."
A quick look confirmed her words. His computers got the information, and Roger highlighted them on his HUD so that he could find them easily in the chaos of combat.
He rolled his fighter a bit to the right before he got back into position, and saw that Tobias was doing the same. It was another of their signs that everything was alright, and it was also a way to say good luck.
Roger pushed all unnecessary thoughts from his mind and concentrated on what lay before him. The only thought left was that at the end of the day, he would lie in his bed and pat himself on the shoulder for a job well done.