* * *
Sirion eased her palm over the left control sphere as the TKR-17C, (better known as the ‘17’), gently glided down and to its left, just skimming the surface of the crater-pocked asteroid. She wasted little visual effort examining the panoramic surroundings, concentrating instead on the computer-generated hologram visuals inside the cockpit. Besides, at the fighter’s cruising speed of five nautical miles per second, the barren landscape was little more than a blur. On she flew, searching for bogeys in the hologram.
A half-minute later, Sirion gave up the search. Slowly rolling her palms back, the ship departed the little planet and she set her sights on another, some distance away. Her ship rose high, in a wide sweeping arc in order to line itself up for a direct approach on its new target. Half way through the turn, the hologram lit up with two bright, orange-red dots and an audio alarm sounded to warn the pilot of intruders. The massive nickel-iron core of the asteroid must have hindered the onboard radar from detecting the enemy. Now Sirion found herself with two bogeymen in hot pursuit and rapidly closing.
Snapping her hands back across the spherical controls made the fighter jerk hard to the right, then straight up in a tight ninety-degree radius. Sirion was now cutting across the paths of her interceptors, causing her to fly perpendicular to their trajectory. They instantly changed course, leading her flight angle in an attempt to overtake her.
Even with its anti G-force machinery and super-tough polymer composite structure, the 17 could not be contorted into tight maneuvers at such speeds without risking damage. Yellow danger lights flashed warnings. Sirion had nearly pushed the ship past it limits. She would need to slow down to correct her last over-reaction at the controls, but speed was currently her friend. First though, the 17 had to be turned away from the enemy.
Concentrating on the planned maneuver, Sirion tried to relax her racing heart. She needed to be calm for this next trick. First, she would have to ‘spike the brakes’ so to speak, whip the fighter around in a sharp one-eighty, then, when the turn was complete, roll the engines to full throttle and try for escape. If she didn’t do things just right, if the turn wasn’t completed before firing the engines full, the hull might rupture under the G-forces, or the gravity machine might fail, crushing her.
There was no time to review her plan. Sirion slid her hands across the controls. In her excitement, she shoved them too hard, kicking in the reverse thrusters but still leaving the main engines engaged. The ship’s nose pitched downward, throwing the 17 into a forward-gyrating spin. Sirion was thrown back, her hands flying from the controls with such force that one smashed her in the face. Blood began gushing from the woman’s nostrils as the ship started to violently tumble through space.
Sirion let out a scream of helplessness as the machine went wild. With the reverse thrusters and engines all alight, it could only be a matter of seconds before the ship would disintegrate. Frantically, the woman struggled to regain control. With one hand, she finally managed to shut off a thruster. Instantly, the fighter started to gyrate to the left as it tumbled. Now it was shaking so badly, Sirion could no longer read the lighted panel, and the holograph was spinning round and round.
With a sudden ‘ka-boom!’ the starboard engine blew out. Sirion could see pieces of the hull and skin breaking away. Another explosion - this time the port engine ripped itself apart. When it went, a large chunk tore away part of the wing, cracking the reinforced cabin wall. Sirion could hear gasses escaping from the cabin. The spiraling tumble of the ship was so violent, the woman wasn’t able to lock her face shield secure to its helmet.
With the engines gone and life support systems fading, the hapless pilot realized she was doomed. As the G-force and gravity control units slowly failed, Sirion could feel the crazy bending and twisting of the broken craft. Suddenly, a growing queasiness in her stomach erupted into a full-fledged, uncontrolled puking bout, covering the interior of cockpit from window to floor with a stinking mess of that morning’s half-digested meal.
Sirion was only semi-conscious when she looked out through the canopy to see the asteroid she had skimmed across only moments before loom large in front of her. At least it would be quick. She wouldn’t be in misery for long. Closer and closer they came, like a bullet on a path to its target. Then, everything went black.
The nauseous gyrating stopped and the hissing of lost air decreased and quieted. A voice from a speaker broke the silence. “You’re dead!”
Sirion confirmed the message, slumping her head in dismay. This was the third time today she had died in the simulator, and this experience was by far the worst. Gratefully, she allowed the attendants to assist her out of the machine. They nearly had to drag her out. Someone brought a flat cart and the others rested her on it. “Come on, Patch, let us give you hand.” Off she went to sickbay.
As they hurried away, Sirion looked up to see Gabrielle watching her leave. The girl knew she was being tested today. They had told her that the physical nerve damage caused during her recent captivity was still insufficiently healed to even try to fly the 17, Gabrielle fearing that a one-eyed pilot might never succeed. As Sirion looked back at the admiral, a tear ran down her cheek. She knew the sad truth. There would be no front-line service for her for some time, maybe never. An old TKR-14 Scout was to be her lot, if she was lucky. If not, then she’d pilot some patched up ancient T-4 drone chaser - or worse - a transporter. Sirion bowed her head and began to cry.