Vance Brewer, a starfighter mechanic aboard one of humanity’s last remaining starcraft carriers, is chosen to become a member of the Knights of the Solar Winds, who can command the mysterious Nakkaron particles to perform superhuman abilities. Struggling to be taken seriously by his tutor, he finds a friend in the very capable Valerie, who is as much a beautiful spitfire as she is a marksman. With the Mori fleet on the way, his own insecurities threatening his relationship with Valerie, an overly-strict instructor that thinks Vance isn’t worthy to be one of them, a dangerous ion storm approaching, his mentor getting kidnapped, and a possible traitor in their midst, training is the least of his worries…
Vance Brewer, a starfighter mechanic aboard one of humanity’s last remaining starcraft carriers, is chosen to become a member of the Knights of the Solar Winds, who can command the mysterious Nakkaron particles to perform superhuman abilities. But his new training takes an abrupt turn when the Mori, the ominous alien fleet trying to eradicate humans, stumble upon the training school and obliterate it.
Still new to his powers, Vance accidentally gets a glimpse into the future and finds the Mori will discover their fleet and destroy everyone. Struggling to be taken seriously by his tutor, he finds a friend in the very capable Valerie, who is as much a beautiful spitfire as she is a marksman. With Valerie’s help, Vance progresses in his training and hones his new skills, all while navigating the political landscape and trying to prevent the Mori attack.
But if Vance doesn’t keep up with his training, he could be disqualified. And with the Mori fleet on the way, his own insecurities threatening his relationship with Valerie, an overly-strict instructor that thinks Vance isn’t worthy to be one of them, a dangerous ion storm approaching, his mentor getting kidnapped, and a possible traitor in their midst, training is the least of his worries…
Besides, how can Vance prevent the destruction of the last human fleet when an invisible enemy stalking him?
No updates posted yet.
Vance Brewer, a starfighter mechanic aboard one of humanity’s last remaining starcraft carriers, is chosen to become a member of the Knights of the Solar Winds, who can command the mysterious Nakkaron particles to perform superhuman abilities. Struggling to be taken seriously by his tutor, he finds a friend in the very capable Valerie, who is as much a beautiful spitfire as she is a marksman. With the Mori fleet on the way, his own insecurities threatening his relationship with Valerie, an overly-strict instructor that thinks Vance isn’t worthy to be one of them, a dangerous ion storm approaching, his mentor getting kidnapped, and a possible traitor in their midst, training is the least of his worries…
Vance Brewer, a starfighter mechanic aboard one of humanity’s last remaining starcraft carriers, is chosen to become a member of the Knights of the Solar Winds, who can command the mysterious Nakkaron particles to perform superhuman abilities. But his new training takes an abrupt turn when the Mori, the ominous alien fleet trying to eradicate humans, stumble upon the training school and obliterate it.
Still new to his powers, Vance accidentally gets a glimpse into the future and finds the Mori will discover their fleet and destroy everyone. Struggling to be taken seriously by his tutor, he finds a friend in the very capable Valerie, who is as much a beautiful spitfire as she is a marksman. With Valerie’s help, Vance progresses in his training and hones his new skills, all while navigating the political landscape and trying to prevent the Mori attack.
But if Vance doesn’t keep up with his training, he could be disqualified. And with the Mori fleet on the way, his own insecurities threatening his relationship with Valerie, an overly-strict instructor that thinks Vance isn’t worthy to be one of them, a dangerous ion storm approaching, his mentor getting kidnapped, and a possible traitor in their midst, training is the least of his worries…
Besides, how can Vance prevent the destruction of the last human fleet when an invisible enemy stalking him?
Award winning Science Fiction author Benjamin Boekweg writes stories with clean language, clean romance, and plenty of fun. He grew up watching Star Wars, Star Trek, the original Battlestar Galactica, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, and Babylon 5. He currently lives in Utah, USA with his amazing wife and has two young children. Being an avid dreamer, he transitioned into writing science fiction rather naturally. Some of his most cherished moments are when his children ask him to read his books to them, and when they randomly quote his stories at meal time.
One of his favorite quotes is from Robert Kennedy, "Some men see things as they are, and say why. I dream of things that never were, and say why not."
Official Site: https://books.benjaminboekweg.com/abberantstarbooklink
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Chapter 1
THE JIBBER
On the thirteenth day of the month of Ternary in the four thousand seven hundred and seventieth year of the Mori—known to us as Year Zero, the Year of Infamy—the Mori destroyed our precious planet Earth. They would afterward seek out every human colony. Thus began the extermination of mankind.
—FROM “GALACTIC HISTORY VOL. IV” BY PROF. EZRA DOUGHERTY
He knew twenty-hundred hours was far too late for any of the advanced scouts to return unless the mission had gone horribly wrong. Vance nervously tapped his hydraulic spanner against his leg. Sedston was flying in that patrol. Vance was only twenty-four years old and already Sedston was the last friend the war had not taken away. Hopefully, Sedston’s luck would hold out. His patrol should have been back over three hours ago. A sick feeling sank into the pit of his stomach.
Only hours before, Vance had dreaded the overhead klaxon that would alert incoming danger. Now he wished for it; at least he would know something. Something was better than not knowing at all. He fingered the adjustment dial on his hydraulic spanner. Yep, still configured, still ready… but ready for what?
The dim lighting in the landing bay suddenly changed to a bright red. His entire spectrum of vision was now tainted with the red hue. The klaxon blared its monotone five note fanfare. Vance’s heart rocketed up into his throat.
The loudspeaker blared, “General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands man your battle stations. Up forward on the starboard side, down aft on the port side. Inbound hostile starcraft.”
Vance hopped off the railing and dashed across the bay. The klaxon repeated its alert. Anything non-essential for combat or medical needed to be stowed. For a mechanic like Vance, that was just about everything.
He reached the starfighter he was working on. He disconnected the diagnostic cables and hastily threw some tools back into their chest. Then he stopped cold. The unconscious nagging of a past first sergeant pulled him back over to the tool compartment. He retrieved the spanner from the lower shelf and instead placed it on the upper shelf. Another routine inspection was not going to make an example of him again. Not when two extra seconds could put it right, even though those seconds were always precious.
He slammed the lid shut on the chest and latched it securely. Other voices shouted in the bay as men and women hustled to their stations. Vance jogged the last few feet to the Comm Computer and pressed his hand to the screen. A laser scanned his handprint.
“AD3 Brewer reporting in!”
The screen flashed green. He stepped away as another three crewmen arrived to report in. Vance stood at his station. It was a station, at least, in name only. It was more or less a spot on the landing bay floor he was to stand ready at. His colleagues quickly joined him at their stations.
“AD2 Patterson reporting in!” A tall darker-faced woman shouted at the computer.
A skinny man with long limbs was right behind her. “ADSN Greensborough reporting in!”
A chubbier man—who somehow never failed a PT eval—followed behind him. It was like the man knew how to tap into all those stored calories when he needed them. “ADSN Stekler reporting in!”
More crewmen swarmed in. Stekler took his station a few feet away from Vance. Stekler wasn’t only cool under pressure; he more or less thrived on it. Even as the man stood there panting, he looked almost like he was smiling. Vance wasn’t sure if it was Stekler’s adrenaline or his mentality that psyched him up so completely. Perhaps it was a combination of the two.
Vance didn’t care much for the excitement. As an Aerospace Machinist’s Mate, his first love was taking apart the aeon flow valve assembly and figuring out why the thrust ratio was off. He loved being the detective in his own little mystery world among valves, regulators, inlets, compressors, and turbines.
Close to two dozen of his Work Center mates arrived and reported in. The loudspeaker in the landing bay blared, “Starwrecker on final, pulling a jibber.”
Even though it was a relief to hear Sedston’s callsign, his entire work center began mumbling insults. And rightly so. Every pilot—every grease monkey for that matter—knew not to pull a jibber maneuver. If a pilot was having too much trouble getting his starcraft into the groove to land, he should ditch the craft. Damaging the runway with a risky landing was infinitely more expensive in material and manpower.
Vance’s Chief deserved credit. He always had them running drills on a jibber landing even when they were never supposed to happen. If Sedston didn't have a really good reason for doing it, he was certain to get an earful from the landing signal officer and the Admiral.
Vance opened the large storage door behind him. It was full of tightly packed metal cylinders with shoulder straps. These were auxiliary fire suppression tanks. The Aerospace Boatswains mates usually handled fire suppression, but the Aerospace Machinists also suited up on a jibber. He started handing them out to his work center mates.
With the tank on his back and his goggles in place, Vance shifted his focus across the landing bay to the outer doors. Large yellow revolving lights spun. The light blue glow of the air pressure force field looked purple amidst the red lights. The space door moaned to life and clanked as it rolled open across the width of the runway. Large mechanical arms stretched a barricade net across the runway.
The muffled pop pop pop sound of the external gun turrets firing seeped into his awareness. His breathing momentarily stopped. Not only was Sedston’s craft coming in at full speed, but there were incoming hostiles to deal with. Since no other pilots were scrambling, that meant there were only a few enemy craft. They must be chasing Sedston. The only reason starfighters would not be scrambled is when Long Range could verify only a few craft that the ZEUS system could easily knock out.
Moments later, a flash of steel and sparks flew into the landing bay. The second arresting wire extended under the pull from the tailhook of Sedston’s craft. The barricade net caught the nose of the starcraft. The mighty engines of the captive craft powered down. The loud audible whine of the turbines faded away.
That was perhaps a picture-perfect jibber landing. He caught one of the arresting wires and didn’t start a single fire. Perfect as it was, though, it still might not save him from getting an earful from the Admiral.
Overhead, the gun turrets had stopped firing. The engagement must be over. “Where’s his wingman?” Vance blurted out.
Stekler shrugged and pointed to the massive space door closing. “Looks like his wingman must’a got vaped.”
Sedston climbed out from the cockpit and down the skimpy pole-ladder, hopping the last few inches onto the cold metal deck. He took his helmet off as two crewmen approached with white coveralls. The first wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Sedston’s arm while the other shined a small flashlight into each of his eyes.
They dismissed him and the clean-up crew swarmed the scene. After such a messy landing they needed to secure the craft and clean up the runway. The craft would soon be released to Vance’s work center for inspection and repair.
The loudspeaker clicked on once more. “Secure from General Quarters, secure from General Quarters! All hands are to stand down from General Quarters, return to normal duties. The time on deck is twenty hundred thirteen. All Department Heads will muster with the Captain on the aft quarterdeck at twenty hundred forty-five.”
Vance and his shipmates began the process of unencumbering themselves from the fire suppression gear and stowing it again, after cleaning it of course. A tight ship was a clean ship.
“ADSN Brewer!” An authoritative voice called out from a few yards away.
Vance shot a glance to his left. Sedston was standing a little way off with his helmet still under his arm. His blond hair stood in a crew cut with his green eyes hinting at the air of superiority about him. The patch on his green flight suit spelled out ‘Zett Sedston, LT United Earth Navy’. Below the patch, ‘Starwrecker’ was embroidered.
When Sedston saw he had Vance’s attention, he motioned with one finger. “A word with you.”
“Aye sir.” Vance hustled over to Sedston.
Sedston lowered his voice so that it would not carry. “Brewer, I wanted to—” Sedston eyed the new patch on Vance’s coveralls. He looked back up into Vance’s eyes with a smile on his face. “When did you make Petty Officer?”
Vance smiled back. “Passed the advancement exam last week, sir.”
Sedston nodded. “Congratulations on becoming a Petty Officer 3rd Class. Now I’ll have to start calling you AD3 Brewer. Keep it up, mister, and soon you’ll be able to trade in those red stripes for gold ones.”
He smiled again. “Thank you, sir.” It felt good to be called AD3 now. He still had no idea what the letter ‘D’ was for; there was no letter ‘D’ in Aerospace Machinist Mate. Not everything about the Navy made sense.
Sedston straightened up his posture. “Well then, Aerospace Machinist’s Mate 3rd Class Brewer, I wanted to personally thank you for the adjustment you made on my turbine compressor. I could really feel that extra power in the afterburner. And I can confidently say that may have been the single factor that got me home in one piece.”
Sedston continued before Vance could reply. “Everything you touch seems to perform better. I even asked your Chief if I could have only you working on my engines.”
Vance’s eyes lit up, “You did, sir?”
Sedston nodded. “He told me that while it was a superb ‘attaboy’ to his division it would also be an inefficient use of manpower. Unfortunately, Ensign Nakito agreed. So I can only ask you unofficially, whenever my starcraft is in here, that you be the one to take the reins on my engines.”
Vance nodded. “I’ll do what I can, sir.”
Sedston turned to leave. Curiosity still gnawed at Vance. “Can I ask you a question, sir?”
Sedston turned back and raised his eyebrows. “Okay, since you can't ask it, I'll ask it for you. ‘LT Sedston, why in Nova’s name did you bring your wildcat into the bay at full burn!’”
Vance failed to suppress a smile.
Sedston looked past Vance and off into space. “We found the Mori. At least their scout patrol. They shot down Cool Jerk’s craft before we knew what hit us. He ejected, but those frazzin Mori…”
Sedston’s jaw quivered a moment. “They broke off and circled around just so they could strike him in space. Those lousy canners were not content until they shot his helpless floating body.”
Sedston paused before returning his gaze to Vance. “I was able to jam their comm so they couldn’t report our position. That's when they went all sergeant on my six.”
Vance stood stiff. “Do you think they will find us, sir?”
Sedston took a deep breath. “You know, I've never trusted Solwins. But if we're gonna have any hope of escaping the frazzin Mori, we’re gonna need a few Solwins in here.”
Chapter 2
ENTER THE SOLWIN
Just as these Solar Winds have stood and will continue to stand—timeless as to human standards—let us also organize ourselves into something just as timeless, just as majestic and eternal. And should we strive for this, we could even become as though an order of knights akin to those of our distant past, bonded together by life & limb and our profession too, swearing to one another—as did our forefathers of long past—this we pledge; our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.
—SIR EDWIN NORFOLK, FROM “CONFERENCE OF ARTISANS: A SOLAR KNIGHT HISTORY” BY SIR ALEC TOLYUIN
Vance unlatched the tool compartment chest and opened it. Aside from being a little sloppily placed, it was perfectly in order. Not bad during a General Quarters call. He grabbed the hydraulic spanner and checked the setting dial. Good thing he checked; in its hasty return, the dial was off by a half-centimeter. His forefinger slid it back into place with a single practiced motion.
He reached up into the turbine cylinder of the mighty wildcat starfighter. The hydraulic spanner moaned as it loosened the bolts, one by one. He pulled off the cover panel and glanced inside the hollow tube.
“Let’s see how you’re doing, ol’ boy.”
He turned around and walked a few paces over to the Macron Scanner. He extended the diagnostic cables over to the craft. He ran his hand over the cover plate and the auxiliary port hatch slid open. He plugged the cables in. Turning to the Macron Scanner, he flicked the large green switch. The Macron Scanner hummed to life and the built-in monitor blinked on.
Vance typed a few keys on the keyboard. The Macron Scanner began communicating with the onboard flight computer of the starcraft. While the diagnostic was running, he went back over to the turbine and ran his fingers down the length of the shaft. Then he felt the interior of the tube, running his hand across the top of the cylinder.
“Hey Brewer,” an annoying voice called out. “Making love to a wildcat again?” The voice belonged to Starman Greensborough. The skinny beanpole of a machinist never let a sarcastic opportunity pass him by.
Vance didn’t even look back. “Go space it, canner!”
The turbine cylinder caught his attention as he passed his hand across it. There it was. Something was wrong with the thrust regulator.
Stekler poked his head around the aft of the turbine. “Hey Brewer, you gonna check the diag results? It’s been sitting on that screen for a bit now.”
Vance huffed. “Let me guess, the diag is givin’ me the can by showing all systems are affirmative.”
“It’s a computer, Brewer. It doesn’t give people the can. Now Greensborough on the other hand…”
Vance smiled.
Stekler straightened up. “So, if you knew the diag was gonna register everything affirmative, why all the disassembly?”
He pulled his hand back from the turbine and turned around. “‘Cause I can tell there’s somethin’ wrong with the thrust regulator.”
Stekler shook his head. “Negative. Patterson just reassembled the regulator personally. It’s all on the up and up.”
Vance’s hands got more fidgety and animated. “That don’t matter. I’m tellin’ ya, something is wrong. You can feel it.”
“Feel it?” Stekler inquired. “You mean like, woman’s intuition?”
Vance grimaced. “Can it, Stekler! I’m being serious. When you have the diag running, you can feel the turbine vibrate. And when you feel the spot where it isn’t vibrating, that’s where the problem is, guaranteed.”
“No way!” Stekler placed his hand up against the upper wall of the cylinder. “I don’t feel anything,” he admitted.
Vance placed his hand against the cylinder too. “You don’t feel that at all?”
He shook his head. “I get nothin’.”
“Hey Stekler,” Greensborough called out. “Is Brewer teaching you how to make love to a wildcat?”
Vance and Stekler both shouted back in an unintended unison. “Can it!”
Stekler withdrew his hand from the cylinder. “Well, if you want to disassemble the regulator to have a look, don’t let Patterson catch you. She’ll think you’re questioning her work.”
“You’re frazzin right I will!” a female voice sternly warned from behind.
“Ah kreket!” Vance cursed under his breath. Both men turned around to find Patterson standing tall with her hands on her hips. Her squinted eyes and pursed lips gave off the vibe that she was not in the mood to be questioned.
Stekler backed off, leaving Vance the sole target in the line of verbal fire. “AD2 Patterson, I, uh… think there’s a problem in the TR-16 Thrust Regulator.”
“Stekler is right, I just got the TR-16 back together and I didn’t find anything wrong. Is it your opinion that I have missed something?” Her hands remained mounted to her hips.
Vance flinched. He desperately wanted to roll his eyes, but basic training had erased that habit with a lot of pushups. “My apologies AD2, just tryin’ to follow up on a hunch.”
Greensborough snickered. “A hunch huh?”
Patterson kept her stare piercing Vance. “No, Greensborough, Brewer here is right; we take safety very seriously in this work center. That’s why Brewer is going to dismantle the TR-16. If he doesn’t find anything wrong, he’s going to polish and lube every piece before reassembling it.”
Vance sharply exhaled. “Aye aye, AD2.”
Vance spent all the rest of the morning polishing and lubing the thrust regulator assembly. He was so sure there was a problem with it. After all, he couldn’t feel it vibrate. That always signaled where a problem was. That’s how he found the microfractures in the fuel injector pod last time. When it was whole and perfectly sound, it seemed to vibrate. And until today, he thought everyone knew that.
Vance screwed on the cap to the TR-16 relay. It was finally back together. Maybe it would vibrate now? Perhaps a simple cleaning did the trick? He walked over to the Micron Scanner and pressed the big green switch to power it on. Then he walked back over to the turbine and placed his hand on the upper cylinder wall. He felt a little vibration. He moved his hand over to the TR-16 relay. No vibration.
“Somethin’ hasta be wrong…” he mumbled.
He reached up and placed his finger over the connecting signal wire to the TR-16. No vibration there either. He pulled his arm out of the turbine. Walking halfway around the craft, he opened up the large maintenance panel under the wing. He ran his fingers across the circuit board wires. Convinced the problem was not there, he moved over to the secondary guidance board. He ran his fingers across the circuit connections. His finger stopped and backed up a couple of connections. There it was. He felt the vibration stop.
“Starman Brewer,” a voice called out behind him.
Vance turned. The voice belonged to a familiar, short, dark-haired, speckle-faced man.
“AT3 Davies, I’m a Petty Officer 3rd class now,” he said in triumph.
Davies stepped closer to admire the new patch on Vance’s coveralls. “Ah man, get spaced! That’s a total gabb! Congrats Brewer, welcome to the PO club.”
“Thanks, Davies. It sure is gabb.”
Davies looked behind Vance and at the open panel on the side of the starcraft. “What’ya doin’ in the electronics? That’s an AT’s job.”
“I know that’s for the Electronics Technicians. But I’ve been tracking down a possible issue with the thrust regulator and now I’m thinking it might be electrical.”
“Oh?” Davies stepped closer with a renewed interest. “Well for starters,” he looked directly at Vance. “Let the pros handle the elec work.” Then he turned his attention to the circuit board. “What did the diag say?”
Vance scratched the back of his head. “Well the diag just gives me the can; tells me nothin’ is wrong. So either I’m chasing a ghost or there’s a deeper problem the diag isn’t picking up on.”
Davies pulled a pen-shaped flashlight out of his breast pocket beneath his coveralls and shined it on the circuit board. “And you’re sure it’s this connection?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Well, look at what we have here…” Davies maneuvered the flashlight to another angle, moving the shadow. “Looks like the soldering broke loose. It’s still making contact with the leads, so that would explain why it still registers affirm on the diag.”
“Does that mean it’ll still work fine?”
Davies shook his head. “No, as soon as the pilot pulls a few G’s it’ll separate; either he’ll get a flameout or a short. Neither one is good. I’ll get my kit and fix it.”
Davies switched off the flashlight and put it away. “How did you find such a canner of a problem anyway?”
“Long story short, I found out I’m weird,” Vance concluded.
Davies chuckled. “Well it’s gettin’ late, you had chow yet?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I spent all morning on the starboard turbine. I’ll head on over to the mess.”
Davies caught Vance’s arm as he was turning to leave. “Hey, did you hear the rumor? The Skipper has requested two Solars. They should be arriving sometime tonight.”
Vance raised his eyebrows. “Real-life Solwins?”
Davies grunted. “Do yourself a favor, Brewer, don’t call them Solwins to their face. They might rearrange yours.”
“Sure,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I like my face the way it is.”
Vance didn’t eat much at the mess hall. His head spun with thoughts about the two new civilian Solwins that were being brought in. Well, at least most were civilians. The Fire Lance were military, but they had their own rank structure. He didn’t know much about Solwins. He gleaned what he could pick up from rumors and jokes. The only certain thing was that he knew less about them than he thought he did. After all, he had just found out a Solwin was not to be called a Solwin publicly. If that didn’t scream ignorance, what did?
After chow, the rest of the day went by rather quickly. His work center had completed the engine repairs and the Aerospace Electrical Technicians went to work on Sedston’s craft. Davies even let Vance know when the electrical to the thrust regulator had been repaired. He wouldn’t get a second attaboy in one day, but at least he saved Sedston a lot of potential grief. What satisfied his sense of pride most of all was that his suspicion was justified. He was right about the vibrating thing, even if he could not articulate it well or even if no one else could feel it.
Vance made his way back down to the landing bay. He walked back through the tight metal corridors of gray and white in deep thought. He passed by other shipmates, ever on the lookout for an officer so he didn't miss recognizing them. Descending the staircase, he entered through the hatch door into the wide-open landing bay. In the bay, an Aerospace Boatswains division looked to be in the middle of a drill. Off to the left, Sedston’s starcraft was all buttoned up and ready to return to the hangar.
The loudspeaker clicked on. “X58 and X63 on approach. Scheduled time +3 minutes.”
Vance spun halfway around toward the outer space door. The revolving yellow lights came alive. The space door moaned and clanked as it opened. The landing bay had two primary sections: the runway and the machinist stations. The runway took up most of the space. The machinist stations were where starcraft got repaired and inspected. Massive elevators lowered starcraft into the hangar below.
He leaned against the railing separating the runway from the machinist stations. The ground crew scurried about for the recovery of the inbound starcraft. Their movements looked very coordinated, like a well-timed ballet of men and equipment. Using radio calls and hand gestures, they communicated with efficiency.
The loudspeaker clicked on again. “Firefly on final. In the groove.”
Vance wanted to walk down to the far side of the railing to get a better view of the approaching starcraft, but he also didn’t want to miss watching the craft land. Supposedly the two Solwins were arriving tonight. While he was in mid-thought, a sleek red-winged starcraft glided into the bay at high speed and touched down exactly on the mark.
This craft did not have a tailhook to grab an arresting wire. Instead, it had magnetic plates that large electromagnet crane arms pushed against to slow it down. Electromagnetic arresting was not as troublesome as angling your craft to grab a wire, but you had to make sure your electrical was working.
A plane director in a yellow jacket gave the pilot hand signals. The engines revved up and the starcraft rolled forward, turning out of the recovery lane. It followed the directions of another plane director on deck. This part of the landing process was rather boring to Vance. The craft would taxi over to where it would be refueled and then stowed.
The loudspeaker clicked on again. “Gruesome on final. In the vibe.”
Even though the rest of the landing process was boring, Vance still wanted to know more about the red-winged starcraft. It was an unfamiliar model. He looked around to see who else was on his side of the bay. Another shipmate also stood at the railing, watching.
She looked up at Vance. “First time seeing a starlancer?”
Vance looked back at the red-winged beauty, still taxiing into post-flight position. “That’s a starlancer?”
She nodded. “State of the art assault craft. Build by Solar Knights for Solar Knights. We’re also not allowed to touch them.”
Vance snorted. “What, the Solwins are too high and mighty for the lowly grease monkeys to touch their crafts?”
She shook her head. “No, their crafts are not owned by the military. It’s like a liability thing, I think.”
She straightened up and headed back to her station. Vance kept staring at the starlancer. The cockpit canopy slid back to reveal a pilot dressed in a red flight suit with patches he had never seen before. The shoulder patch looked more like a crest than a squadron symbol. It had what looked like a red shield with a gold border and gold wing-looking shapes in the center.
The pilot descended the stairs that were wheeled up to the cockpit. When he stepped onto the deck, he took his helmet off and stared past the people in front of him. He looked directly at Vance. Vance quickly looked away and wandered back over to his station. He wasn’t sure if he would be in trouble for staring at a Solwin. Getting caught staring was spooky enough so he wasn’t waiting around to find out.
And what made matters worse, he desperately wanted to get close to that starlancer and check it out. What made it tick? What was the engine design? How did the turbines work? There were so many unanswerables swarming about his head. He wanted to risk it and see just how close he could get.
Chapter 3
THE STARLANCER
When joining the Fire Lance order, Solar Knight initiates must understand that to a Fire Lance knight their starlancer is not just a starfighter, it’s an extension of who they are. We consider it a living thing. Flying with it is a symbiosis. You must learn to listen to it, learn its name, and master it.
—FROM “FIRE LANCE OPERATIONAL MANUAL” BY WIND COMMANDER ARIANA YATES
Vance glanced down at his wristband. The lousy thing never really did fit very well. He tapped it twice with his finger. The top glassy surface glowed to life, displaying the time. 2049 hours. That gave him 16 minutes before lights-out. He walked back down the hall passing several shipmates going in the opposite direction.
He descended the stairs and walked through the hatch doorway into the landing bay. The bay was now at low lights for the night. Just enough standing lights to see, and Vance knew exactly where he was going. Well, at least he had a good idea of where to start looking. Most of the crafts had been stowed in the hangar by now. Vance was betting that the high-and-mighty Solwin would not want his starlancer stowed with the rest of the lowly starcraft.
He walked over to the ledge. It overlooked the starcraft pre-flight zone, where starcraft were relocated for pre-launch. He smiled as he gazed down on the magnificent red-winged starfighter. The wings were folded up into stowing position. Vance looked all around to see if anyone was watching. A few crewmen in yellow jackets exited the bay but not much more than that.
Vance quickly hustled his way down the stairwell to the flight deck. He paused a moment before emerging into the pre-flight zone. He waited for his pounding heartbeat and heavy breathing to slow down. It was ironic that he got a more rigid cardio workout doing something he wasn’t supposed to rather than physical training. Somehow the nerves kicked the experience up by six more notches.
Overhead, the loudspeaker announced, “Tattoo! Tattoo! Lights out in 5 minutes. Stand by for the evening prayer. Silence about the decks…”
His heart rate began to speed up. Only five minutes to introduce himself to a sleek advanced beauty and then hustle his six back to his bunk. He’d done worse in trying to talk to a woman in a bar and that thought give him some measure of comfort.
He walked out of the stairwell and headed over to the starlancer. He walked casually because he wanted to look like he belonged. Sneaking about was a tell-tale sign that you weren’t supposed to be there. He pretended he was going to assess a craft in his bay, hoping the extra mental exercise would help his stride look more normal.
He reached the smooth metal frame of the red-winged starlancer. He reached his hand out and touched the frame. Smooth and cold. Not a wintry cold but a relaxed cold. He slid his hand across the body of the craft over and under the folded wing.
Then he heard it. It sounded like a faint voice. It was soft and subtle. The complete opposite of the military. Vance crouched down to look below the craft. He didn’t see anyone’s legs on the other side, nor did he see anyone beyond. It sounded like a female voice. He shuddered to think if it was Patterson because she’d eat him for breakfast. But this voice wasn’t her harsh tone, this was almost melodic.
His hand was right next to the maintenance hatch. Did he dare open it up and see what was inside? He pulled his hand back. Nope. He only had a few minutes left to get back to his bunk before lights-out, but that wasn’t the real reason. It just felt wrong. Like he would be invading somebody’s personal space. He hadn’t felt that way about any starcraft he worked on. But then again, he was always ordered to work on them, not the other way around.
Vance stood up and backed off a few steps, admiring the majesty of the craft. He glanced back down to his wristband and tapped the screen. Two minutes left. It was time to hustle.
“See something you like, Starman?” A stern male voice spoke just a few feet behind him.
Vance’s heart leaped into his throat. He closed his eyes. “Kreket…” he mumbled. He was sure he could talk his way out of a confrontation with an Aerospace Boatswain’s mate. But it would be a little harder if it was a chief, or, worse yet, an officer.
He opened his eyes and turned around. A few feet before him stood a tall man with brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a red flight suit with a patch that read, ‘Royce Williams, S-CPT Fire Lance’. Below that, he had the embroidered word, ‘Firefly’. On his shoulder was the mysterious shield-shaped patch that he saw from a distance earlier that evening. Now that he was up closer, it looked more like a medieval coat of arms.
Vance stood at attention. “I’m sorry sir… I am realizing I am out of line, sir.”
Royce casually walked up to him. “Kreket is right. You sailors know not to monkey around a starlancer.”
Vance resisted the urge to look down. Basic training had taught him that no matter how bad he felt, he must always look at a superior who was addressing him. “Aye sir.”
“Then what in Nova’s name are you doing around my starlancer?”
Vance hesitated a split second. “I thought I heard a voice, sir.” It wasn’t exactly a lie; there was a voice, but that wasn’t why he wanted to snoop around the starlancer. It was, however, the safer of the two options to admit.
Oddly enough, Royce’s eyes twitched slightly and he stared at him with a renewed interest. His facial expression betrayed nothing but professional annoyance.
Overhead, the loudspeaker announced, “Taps! Taps! Lights out! All hands turn into your bunks. Maintain silence about the decks.”
Vance’s shoulders dropped a half-inch and he exhaled. Now he was going to be late to his bunk also. Royce took two steps closer, his face inches away. His stern expression and piercing eyes could have drilled holes into Vance. He stood a long second before speaking. “What did she say?”
Vance’s mind caught hold of the word, ‘she’. How did this pilot know it was a woman’s voice? He swallowed. “You know it’s a woman’s voice, sir. Does that mean you’ve heard it too?”
Royce’s eyes narrowed and irritation oozed from his calm voice. “I’m going to ask you one more time, sailor: what did she say?”
Vance stammered a moment. “L, Lleona, I think…”
Royce’s eyes eased up and his face softened. He pulled back his intimidating posture, staring into Vance’s eyes. It was as if he was searching for something. Vance remained at attention, not daring to move or breathe.
Royce backed up a step. “Goodnight, sailor.”
Had this pilot found what he was looking for in his eyes or had he simply given up? Vance hastily nodded and scooted past Royce over toward the stairwell. Then he stopped in his tracks. One question burned inside his head. Did he dare ask now? Now that he was dismissed from his ‘talking to’ did he dare risk getting into the bad graces of a mysterious officer? His curiosity got the better of him.
He turned around. “Captain Williams, sir,”
“Sky Captain Williams,” Royce snapped.
Vance’s jaw instantly shut. He exerted extra effort to open his mouth again. “Sky Captain Williams, sir, what does ‘Lleona’ mean?”
The corner of Royce’s mouth crept up ever so slightly. “It’s her name, sailor. Now get to your bunk.”
Vance obeyed.
Chapter 4
EVALUATION
When seeking those destined for The Crusade, you will know them because they listen to The Winds. They will seem, as it were, to tap into the knowledge that the galaxy keeps hidden away.
—FROM “LECTURES ON THE CHOSEN” BY SAGE DOROTHY VLAVSKISK
Vance was still a little wary in the morning. Though he hadn’t received any adverse consequences last night from the Solwin, that didn’t mean it would not be reported in the morning. So, he was pretty much a bundle of nerves heading out from morning’s chow down to the landing bay.
He descended the stairs and crossed the threshold into the bay. He glanced over to his right to see the Aerospace Boatswains mates getting the flight deck prepped for the day. It was easy to tell what jobs everybody had on a starcraft carrier by the color of their jacket.
Yellow was worn by starcraft handing officers and plane directors. Green was usually worn by the catapult and arresting gear crew as well as cargo and maintenance. All the really dangerous jobs required a red jacket, such as ordnance handlers and firefighters. Fuel handlers—or grapes, as they were affectionately called—wore purple. Plane captains, who were responsible for ensuring a starcraft was ready to fly, wore brown. White jackets were worn by inspection, safety, and medical personnel.
Vance returned his gaze forward and narrowly missed bumping into a senior chief petty officer. It was quite relieving to have missed that encounter—that would have been bad. He was already uptight about the possible consequences of last night’s escapade and didn’t need any new drama. He silently promised himself to pay attention to where he was going. Then he looked up and his heart sank into the pit of his stomach.
Ensign Nakito stood at the machinist station talking with Patterson who was nodding her head. Ensign Nakito was the head of the Aerospace Machinist Starfighter division. Vance’s legs turned to lead and his pace slowed to a halt. The thought of turning around and leaving the bay popped into his head. And for a fraction of a second, he entertained the idea. But experience had taught him it was better to get disciplinary actions over with as quickly as possible. He forged on, forcing his legs to continue walking to his station.
Patterson glanced in his direction and pointed at him. His legs utterly refused to move. The uncooperative limbs pinned him in place. His heart raced. Ensign Nakito was a short man with darker skin and narrow eyes dressed in a white button-down uniform shirt and slacks.
Patterson and Ensign Nakito were wearing their covers. The rest of his work center wore their covers too. On board a ship, wearing a cap was usually reserved for official business. Hopefully, it was a uniform inspection and not anything to do with his late-night escapade. He pulled out his cover from a pocket, unrolled it, and placed it on his head.
Ensign Nakito turned and looked at Vance, beckoning him to approach with two fingers. Vance’s legs were instantly released from their captivity. Behind Ensign Nakito, stood Chief Petty Officer Caldwin. It looked like the entire brass of his division was assembled. He saluted and stood at attention, bracing for shock.
Nakito returned the salute and gave a satisfied half-smile. “Aerospace Machinist’s Mate 3rd Class Brewer, your Work Center Supervisor has recommended you for an assignment.”
Vance glanced over to Patterson. She had a scowl on her face. This was not a good sign. If Patterson was still sore that he had questioned her work, this ‘assignment’ might end up being more of a punishment. He glanced back to Nakito. “Aye sir.”
In the distance, the beep beep beep sounds announced the arrival of the flight deck tractor maneuvering a starcraft into their machinist station. Vance waited until Nakito turned to look before he did. That was the unspoken signal it was okay to break eye contact for a moment. The flight deck tractor pushed the red-winged starlancer into his work center’s service station.
Vance blinked to be sure it wasn’t a mirage or a trick of his eyes. He blinked a second time. Still there. Was his dream coming true? Was he being asked to inspect a starlancer? His head started buzzing with questions. What kind of compressor did the turbines use? How had they solved the aeon overflow conversion?
Patterson walked up to Vance and whispered in his ear. “Don’t goose this one up!”
If Vance hadn’t been so enamored with the aerospace masterpiece, he would have been in the right state of mind to be insulted by that remark. As far as he could recollect, he hadn’t ever goosed up a repair in his entire career—if you didn’t count that old Crusader; which he didn’t.
The tractor finished backing the craft into place and detached. The operator of the tractor spun his chair around and the tractor moved out and back down the way it had come. Vance walked up to the starlancer. Before he touched the fuselage, Royce walked around the other side of the craft. He was not wearing his red flight suit this time; he wore a red button-down shirt and slacks with a navy-blue trim. Pinned to his breast pocket were his gold-colored metal pilot’s wings.
“AD3 Brewer,” Royce addressed.
Vance quickly stood at attention, bumping his head on the folded-up wings of the starlancer. He saluted. “Sky Captain Williams, sir.”
“At ease,” Royce directed, returning the salute.
Vance widened his stance and put his hands behind his back.
Royce walked up close. “I’m told you are the most knowledgeable in your division for starfighter engines.”
Vance’s heart rate accelerated. This also wasn’t a good sign. Rarely did a compliment come down from a stern-looking superior that wasn’t immediately followed by something harsh.
Royce motioned to his starlancer. “There’s a problem in the afterburner. I want you to find it.”
Vance couldn’t believe his ears. He was being asked to inspect the most advanced starfighter in existence. But before he was able to respond, Royce amended, “And Petty Officer, you are being evaluated.”
Nope. His dream was not coming true, in fact, it was looking more like a nightmare. He should have trusted his instincts about Patterson. She most likely recommended him because if he succeeded, she could take credit for her work center. But if he failed, then he would look like a fool in front of the Chief, the Division Officer, and a Solwin.
“Aye, aye sir,” he responded. Although it was not specifically mentioned, he would be timed. The military spelled efficiency T-I-M-E. “Sir, may I ask that you open the diag ports on your starlancer?”
Royce waved his hand over a small panel near the engine thrusters and the panel slid open, revealing three connector ports. Vance waited for Royce to take a few steps back. Once he did so, Vance dashed over to the Macron Scanner. He extended the diagnostic cables and connected them to the starlancer’s ports. He turned back to the computer and punched a few keys on the keyboard to start the diagnostic sequence.
He’d need every edge he could get, so he wasn’t about to rely wholly upon the diagnostic report. That meant he was going to have to use every trick he had picked up to solve this issue pronto. He unlatched the tool compartment and lifted the lid. His hydraulic spanner was right where it should be—another reason a few extra seconds to put things in the right place was desirable. Not having his primary wrench at a time like this would spell disaster early on.
He quickly moved to the thruster housing and eyed the bolts. They looked a bit larger than the standard wildcat assembly bolts. Without looking, he fingered the adjustment dial on his spanner and rotated it slightly to the left. Then he placed his spanner to the bolts—perfect fit, he had correctly eyed the bolt size. The spanner moaned as it removed all the bolts. He dropped his spanner—which was a bad idea, but his nerves seemed to have given a very persuasive argument to his muscles. So, the spanner clanked to the ground as he removed the external housing of the thruster assembly.
He gently set down the housing case—no need to insult the Sky Captain by mishandling the parts to his craft. Then he reached up into the turbine and began feeling around the cylinder wall. He swiftly completed feeling down the entire cylinder. There must be some mistake, everything was vibrating as it should. If something was wrong, it would not vibrate. At least that was his experience with military starfighters. He hadn’t tried this on a starlancer before, but the principle should be the same.
Just to be thorough, he felt around the inside of the turbine once more. He felt all around the edges and on over the valve regulators and the electrical connections. This time he was sure he did not feel anything wrong. Everything was all vibrating as a healthy system should.
Vance stood and faced Royce. “Sky Captain Williams, sir, there must be some mistake. There isn’t anything wrong with the thruster assembly.”
“You mean, nothing that you can find?” Royce offered.
Something in the back of Vance’s brain was screaming that he was walking into a verbal trap. He was sure nothing was wrong, but the clarification he was being offered was, ‘nothing that he could find’. And that was not the truth. Vance’s breathing accelerated. If he insisted nothing was wrong, he might end up polishing and lubing again. But he also didn't want to publicly accept that he could not find the problem. That would be an insult to his professional pride.
It took a few eternal seconds for Vance to hastily make up his mind. “Negative, sir. Everything is working correctly.”
Royce took another step closer. “That’s a bold statement when the diag hasn’t even come back yet.”
Vance took a breath and heard the faint beep of the Macron Scanner. That was the signal the diagnostic cycle just completed. If he was wrong there was not going to be a way out of it. So, he simply stood back at attention. “Aye sir.”
Royce stared him down a few moments. It was not an uncomfortable ‘you are in trouble’ kind of stare. It was more like the previous night when Royce was searching his eyes.
Royce finally spoke. “You’re right. There is nothing wrong with it.” He turned to Nakito. “Your division is the fastest and most thorough I’ve ever seen. I hope you’re proud.”
A large smile of pride crossed Nakito’s lips. He turned to Chief Caldwin. “Good job. Have everyone return to normal duties.”
Royce looked back at Vance, motioning toward the thruster housing lying on the ground. “If you’d kindly button her back up.”
“Aye sir.” Vance knelt and retrieved his hydraulic spanner. He unconsciously felt the adjustment dial with his forefinger. The setting was off by quite a bit. He adjusted the dial with a fluid motion of his finger, then he began reassembling the thruster casing.
Royce leaned in close and whispered to him, “Why do you even bother with the diag?”
Vance paused with the reassembly for a moment. “If it isn’t running, I can’t feel the vibration in the cylinder.” He wasn’t sure why he decided to be entirely honest. It might have been the intimidating officer that provoked his complete confession.
Vance reassembled the housing and disconnected the diagnostic cables. Royce had left. He knew he had aced the inspection, but he still had a sinking feeling in his stomach that had he somehow failed an unspoken evaluation. It was best that he worry about it later, much later.
After the flight deck tractor had moved the starlancer back to where it was being stowed, Vance went to the mess hall. Once again, he simply sat there, poking at his mashed potatoes. Even though he loved mashed potatoes, the current course of events seemed to have banished his desire for food. What was the purpose for the evaluation? His brain also kept coming back to the question of who this ‘Lleona’ woman was and where she had been when he heard her speak.
As he walked back down the hallway to the landing bay, he stopped short. Patterson stood at the doorway at the bottom of the stairs. She shot a glance up to him. “Brewer,” she addressed, holding out a folded piece of paper toward him.
Vance descended the stairs and took the paper. He unfolded it and quickly perused its contents. His eyes shot back up in alarm. “I’m bein’ transferred?”
She pursed her lips. “Ensign Nakito wants you to report to him first thing after reveille tomorrow morning. I warned you not to goose this one up.”
Imagine being thrust into a world where your very abilities can shape the fate of humanity, yet all you feel is the weight of doubt. Vance Brewer's journey from a starfighter mechanic to a potential hero in the Knights of the Solar Winds is fraught with challenges that will resonate with anyone who has ever felt unworthy or overlooked. His struggles to earn respect from his instructor, while simultaneously grappling with the impending threat of the Mori fleet, create a thrilling backdrop filled with tension and urgency.
As Vance navigates this complex environment, the fiery and skilled Valerie stands by his side, embodying both strength and warmth. Their partnership adds depth to the narrative, showcasing not just the action and adventure of the story, but also the personal growth and emotional stakes involved. Readers have praised the gripping pace and the rich character development, making it clear that this isn't just another sci-fi adventure; it's a heartfelt exploration of courage, friendship, and the fight against one's own insecurities. In a universe where every decision could mean life or death, the journey of Vance and Valerie promises to keep you on the edge of your seat.
"The book seemed like a mash-up of "Top Gun" + "Star Wars". The characters were likable enough and the plot seemed to flow well. The author is a Brandon Sanderson fan and if you're in the same boat, you would probably like this book. This book also appears to be the first in a series, so it may be worthwhile to keep an eye out for the sequel."
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