CassaStar Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Alex J. Cavanaugh
need extra duties or lessons foisted upon his team their very first day with the Cosbolts.
They were the last team assigned to a ship. Officer Rellen observed the men with intense curiosity as the moved toward number 715T, the last remaining unclaimed fighter in the hanger. Byron sensed his navigator’s impatience but forced a slow and deliberate stroll to their Cosbolt. He didn’t want to give Bassa or Rellen the satisfaction of knowing the wait had irritated him.
Trindel reached the ship first, his hand gingerly touching the wing. He hesitated, as if afraid, and turned to Byron. Seeing the elation in his navigator’s eyes, Byron rested his hand on the underside of the wing. The metal was cold to the touch and it sent an invigorating shock through his fingers. Byron allowed a slow smile to spread across his lips and Trindel returned his grin with unbridled enthusiasm. With a gasp, Trindel turned and grasped the ladder.
No , Byron thought, sending his navigator a private message. We have almost two hours. Let’s show the instructors we’re proficient and take our time.
Trindel’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide in protest. His shoulders slumped and he nodded, releasing the ladder. Taking a deep breath, Trindel moved toward the ship’s nose. Byron elected to explore the ship’s propulsion first.
Circling the wing, Byron ran his hand down the side of the vessel, delighting in the feel of the surface. He reached the engines and paused to admire the propulsion system. He envisioned the engines ablaze with fire, and the power required to thrust the ship forward in space fascinated him. Soon, that power would be at his disposal.
He continued around the far side of the ship, nodding at Trindel as they passed. Byron inspected the weapons system, which consisted of two rocket launchers under each wing and the laser directly under the nose. Byron glanced at the runners as he circled the front of the ship and discovered Trindel patiently waiting by the ladder. Byron smiled and gestured for his navigator to proceed.
Trindel required no further prompting and scrambled up to the platform. Byron followed more slowly, trying to exhibit some control. By the time he had a clear view of the cockpit, Trindel was already at his station. Flashing his navigator a wry grin, he swung into the pilot’s seat and wedged himself into position. When he felt situated, Byron examined the console.
The displays were dark and no lights glowed in greeting. The controls showed wear from repeated use, the result of hundreds of potential pilots training on Guaard. The worn, metallic smell was unique as well. The simulator had reflected every detail of the panel, right down to the smallest of controls, but there was one critical difference. This was the real thing.
Doesn’t look much different , Trindel commented.
Yes it does , Byron replied as he gripped the thrust. He felt the cold metal even through the padding.
It was then that he became aware of the teleporter. The device was self-sufficient and engaged at all times. Its power emanated from behind Trindel’s seat, safely encased within the frame of the ship. It emitted no audible sound, not even a low hum, but Byron was keenly aware of the mechanism’s energy as it rippled through his mind.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the device that would be his sole responsibility. Trindel was trained on the teleporter, but pilots were accountable for its operation. Byron’s mind would connect and draw upon its power to teleport their ship. Locking onto the device’s signal, he felt the surge of power in his mental abilities. In that brief instant, he now understood the skill required to teleport the ship to another location in space. All he had to do was concentrate and visualize.
Not planning on jumping us to the other side of the hanger, are you?
Byron opened his eyes and dissolved the connection. Not just yet! he answered.
Good,
They were the last team assigned to a ship. Officer Rellen observed the men with intense curiosity as the moved toward number 715T, the last remaining unclaimed fighter in the hanger. Byron sensed his navigator’s impatience but forced a slow and deliberate stroll to their Cosbolt. He didn’t want to give Bassa or Rellen the satisfaction of knowing the wait had irritated him.
Trindel reached the ship first, his hand gingerly touching the wing. He hesitated, as if afraid, and turned to Byron. Seeing the elation in his navigator’s eyes, Byron rested his hand on the underside of the wing. The metal was cold to the touch and it sent an invigorating shock through his fingers. Byron allowed a slow smile to spread across his lips and Trindel returned his grin with unbridled enthusiasm. With a gasp, Trindel turned and grasped the ladder.
No , Byron thought, sending his navigator a private message. We have almost two hours. Let’s show the instructors we’re proficient and take our time.
Trindel’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide in protest. His shoulders slumped and he nodded, releasing the ladder. Taking a deep breath, Trindel moved toward the ship’s nose. Byron elected to explore the ship’s propulsion first.
Circling the wing, Byron ran his hand down the side of the vessel, delighting in the feel of the surface. He reached the engines and paused to admire the propulsion system. He envisioned the engines ablaze with fire, and the power required to thrust the ship forward in space fascinated him. Soon, that power would be at his disposal.
He continued around the far side of the ship, nodding at Trindel as they passed. Byron inspected the weapons system, which consisted of two rocket launchers under each wing and the laser directly under the nose. Byron glanced at the runners as he circled the front of the ship and discovered Trindel patiently waiting by the ladder. Byron smiled and gestured for his navigator to proceed.
Trindel required no further prompting and scrambled up to the platform. Byron followed more slowly, trying to exhibit some control. By the time he had a clear view of the cockpit, Trindel was already at his station. Flashing his navigator a wry grin, he swung into the pilot’s seat and wedged himself into position. When he felt situated, Byron examined the console.
The displays were dark and no lights glowed in greeting. The controls showed wear from repeated use, the result of hundreds of potential pilots training on Guaard. The worn, metallic smell was unique as well. The simulator had reflected every detail of the panel, right down to the smallest of controls, but there was one critical difference. This was the real thing.
Doesn’t look much different , Trindel commented.
Yes it does , Byron replied as he gripped the thrust. He felt the cold metal even through the padding.
It was then that he became aware of the teleporter. The device was self-sufficient and engaged at all times. Its power emanated from behind Trindel’s seat, safely encased within the frame of the ship. It emitted no audible sound, not even a low hum, but Byron was keenly aware of the mechanism’s energy as it rippled through his mind.
Closing his eyes, he focused on the device that would be his sole responsibility. Trindel was trained on the teleporter, but pilots were accountable for its operation. Byron’s mind would connect and draw upon its power to teleport their ship. Locking onto the device’s signal, he felt the surge of power in his mental abilities. In that brief instant, he now understood the skill required to teleport the ship to another location in space. All he had to do was concentrate and visualize.
Not planning on jumping us to the other side of the hanger, are you?
Byron opened his eyes and dissolved the connection. Not just yet! he answered.
Good,
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