his chair, he looked up at Bassa.
“ Yes, he’s damned cocky!” Rellen announced, a smile tugging at his lips. “Boy knows how to push it to the limit, too.”
Still frowning, Bassa watched as Byron and Trindel entered the simulator and closed the hatch. His eyes dropped to the screens across the main panel and located the pilot’s feed. Byron was already in position and preparing for the drill. There was no mistaking the look of confidence and determination on his face.
“ We need to redraw the lines then,” Bassa said in a firm voice.
He remained in the control room while Byron and Trindel performed their run. Their execution was not precision-perfect this time, but the men committed no errors and accomplished the objective within the allotted time. When the session ended, both pilot and navigator appeared quite smug.
“ He’s not going to make it easy for us,” Char commented with a moan.
“ It’s only the first week,” Bassa replied, turning to depart. “We will correct that attitude!”
Exiting the control room, he left the simulator area in haste. That final run had cut into the evening meal, although the loss of food did not concern him. Bassa preferred to spend the evening hours reviewing the day’s performances, analyzing each team’s weaknesses and strengths. Tonight he would require extra time to study Byron and Trindel’s runs in detail. He would need every scrap of evidence if he intended to find flaws in Byron’s next drill beyond multiple jumps. Cocky or not, the boy exhibited incredible skill as a pilot.
The following morning, the men reported to the classroom as scheduled. Byron was delighted when only an hour was devoted to instruction, and most of it focused on proper conduct in the hanger. Bassa concluded the session with a stern warning of the consequences of improper behavior or failure to follow procedures when in the presence of the fighter ships. After the previous evening’s experience, Byron did not doubt his threat.
Trindel’s eagerness secured them a position at the front of the line as they exited the lift. Officer Jarth led the young men into the hanger, emerging near the bay housing the Cosbolts. Byron noticed Officers Bassa and Rellen already waiting. Only officers were allowed access to the teleporters and the two men had obviously taken advantage of the device. Were he not so eager to view his ship, Byron might’ve resented the restrictions placed upon uncertified trainees. However, viewing the Cosbolts up close took precedence over all else.
The young men joined the senior officers, snapping to attention once assembled. Bassa surveyed the pilots and navigators, observing each one’s reaction. For the majority of those gathered, this was their first time in the presence of an actual fighter.
“ In the time remaining before the midday meal,” began Bassa, his voice echoing across the empty hanger, “you will become familiar with your ship and the feel of the instruments. Do not rush through the opportunity to explore your ship at length. Use this time wisely.
“ Officer Rellen will announce ship assignments,” he concluded, stepping aside.
Rellen held up his computer pad, his eyes on the screen. “Surren and Arenth, ship number 479T. Ganst and Forcance, number 512T,” he called.
The instructors gestured for those called to proceed to their ships. Byron waited while several other teams were called, anxious to finally touch his Cosbolt. Trindel’s excitement threatened to bubble over, and Byron silently cautioned his navigator that he should reign in his emotions. Their names would be called soon.
“ Vitar and Hasen, number 143T,” Rellen announced, his eyes never leaving his computer pad.
Patience slowly eroding, Byron glanced at Officer Bassa and realized the senior instructor was watching him. Quickly averting his eyes, Byron suppressed his feelings of annoyance. He did not
“ Yes, he’s damned cocky!” Rellen announced, a smile tugging at his lips. “Boy knows how to push it to the limit, too.”
Still frowning, Bassa watched as Byron and Trindel entered the simulator and closed the hatch. His eyes dropped to the screens across the main panel and located the pilot’s feed. Byron was already in position and preparing for the drill. There was no mistaking the look of confidence and determination on his face.
“ We need to redraw the lines then,” Bassa said in a firm voice.
He remained in the control room while Byron and Trindel performed their run. Their execution was not precision-perfect this time, but the men committed no errors and accomplished the objective within the allotted time. When the session ended, both pilot and navigator appeared quite smug.
“ He’s not going to make it easy for us,” Char commented with a moan.
“ It’s only the first week,” Bassa replied, turning to depart. “We will correct that attitude!”
Exiting the control room, he left the simulator area in haste. That final run had cut into the evening meal, although the loss of food did not concern him. Bassa preferred to spend the evening hours reviewing the day’s performances, analyzing each team’s weaknesses and strengths. Tonight he would require extra time to study Byron and Trindel’s runs in detail. He would need every scrap of evidence if he intended to find flaws in Byron’s next drill beyond multiple jumps. Cocky or not, the boy exhibited incredible skill as a pilot.
The following morning, the men reported to the classroom as scheduled. Byron was delighted when only an hour was devoted to instruction, and most of it focused on proper conduct in the hanger. Bassa concluded the session with a stern warning of the consequences of improper behavior or failure to follow procedures when in the presence of the fighter ships. After the previous evening’s experience, Byron did not doubt his threat.
Trindel’s eagerness secured them a position at the front of the line as they exited the lift. Officer Jarth led the young men into the hanger, emerging near the bay housing the Cosbolts. Byron noticed Officers Bassa and Rellen already waiting. Only officers were allowed access to the teleporters and the two men had obviously taken advantage of the device. Were he not so eager to view his ship, Byron might’ve resented the restrictions placed upon uncertified trainees. However, viewing the Cosbolts up close took precedence over all else.
The young men joined the senior officers, snapping to attention once assembled. Bassa surveyed the pilots and navigators, observing each one’s reaction. For the majority of those gathered, this was their first time in the presence of an actual fighter.
“ In the time remaining before the midday meal,” began Bassa, his voice echoing across the empty hanger, “you will become familiar with your ship and the feel of the instruments. Do not rush through the opportunity to explore your ship at length. Use this time wisely.
“ Officer Rellen will announce ship assignments,” he concluded, stepping aside.
Rellen held up his computer pad, his eyes on the screen. “Surren and Arenth, ship number 479T. Ganst and Forcance, number 512T,” he called.
The instructors gestured for those called to proceed to their ships. Byron waited while several other teams were called, anxious to finally touch his Cosbolt. Trindel’s excitement threatened to bubble over, and Byron silently cautioned his navigator that he should reign in his emotions. Their names would be called soon.
“ Vitar and Hasen, number 143T,” Rellen announced, his eyes never leaving his computer pad.
Patience slowly eroding, Byron glanced at Officer Bassa and realized the senior instructor was watching him. Quickly averting his eyes, Byron suppressed his feelings of annoyance. He did not
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