rebuttal and departed with his tray. Irritated, Byron shoved aside the remainder of his meal and leaned back in his seat. He would not be sent home early, regardless of what Surren believed. Failure was not an option at this point.
“ I’m not jumping up anyone’s ass,” Trindel murmured to no one in particular.
After three weeks of actual flight time, which involved formations and basic drills, Byron was pleased to hear the men would begin target practice next.
Despite Surren’s prediction, Byron and Trindel’s performance was flawless so far. They could hardly deviate from pre-planned flight patterns, though. Byron took pride in his perfectionist nature and was determined to prove his wasn’t as reckless as his record suggested.
There was no time off on Guaard and the men began target practice the day after the announcement. The flight patterns were pre-assigned, but Byron did not mind. The simulators recreated true flight but not without omissions in experience. The knowledge that one’s life hung on the brink of every maneuver made for a unique experience. Byron appreciated the opportunity to acclimate to the sensation and he was able to focus on his aim. His shots were precise and on target.
They advanced from one target to multiples while still following flight patterns. The last run of multiples, the teams were given free rein to select their own approach. The targets were set equal distance apart in a triangular form. The young men would be judged on their precision of flight as well as accuracy.
Slated to go last, Byron watched the other ships with interest as he and Trindel awaited their turn. The pilots varied in their course of attacking the targets from above or below, but every ship ran a zigzag course. There were a few notable maneuvers, but no performance stood out from the others. Never one to conform to standards, Byron opted to try something entirely different.
What’s our approach? asked Trindel.
Byron smiled, sensing his navigator’s adventurous spirit. Out and back , he replied, visualizing the projected path.
Sounds good to me!
Trindel plotted their course and they waited for the signal.
“ 715T, commence your run!” commanded Officer Jarth.
Byron throttled forward, aiming for the nearest target. The metallic orb glimmered enticingly in the darkness of space and he set his sights on the object. The moment they were in range, he fired on the orb. A laser of light struck the middle of the glowing sphere. A green light blinked, signifying a direct hit.
Continuing in a straight line, Byron aimed for the second target. Pivoting ninety degrees, he fired at the orb without a moment’s hesitation. The green light flashed and he pursued the final target. Byron angled their Cosbolt just enough to avoid firing directly at the squadron and hit the third target with ease. Adjusting their trajectory, he and Trindel rejoined the other ships and fell into formation.
“ Interesting approach,” Jarth commented over the com. “All ships, return to base. We’ll reconvene in the debriefing room.”
Maybe we should’ve tried something else? offered Trindel.
I had a reason for that approach , Byron stated, prepared to defend their course of action.
Good, because I have a feeling Bassa will want to hear it!
Once they’d landed, the young men gathered in the debriefing room. Trindel preferred to sit up front, but he remained by his pilot when Byron selected the back row. Wishing to avoid scrutiny, Byron always selected a position that would provide a view of the room. He and Trindel settled in their seats and waited.
The officers’ ships were equipped with recording devices that captured the performances of the teams in training. These images flashed on the screen as Officer Rellen discussed each team. No team had missed their mark, although one team was reprimanded for a yellow light, which signified