Chương 48: End of Semester

Academy Hill, Vidako Imperium Stellarum December 20, 2847 As Arc's first semester courses barrelled toward a conclusion, he became increasingly frustrated at the fact that, despite her promise, Ireti Ọlatẹru hadn't yet managed to get him a Kestrel pilot to practice against in the simulator pods. With Doctor Seung's approval, he reported for regular sessions of centrifuge training on the second floor of the athletic building.

The first time he waited while a corpsman fastened him in at the end of a seven meter arm, he wondered out loud why the academy hadn't switched to using artificial gravity fields yet.

"Rumor is there's a grant application out," Corpsman Miller explained, without making eye contact.

"But grav-tech is still kind of new, and things like this aren't a priority. Plus, can you imagine how many credits it's going to take to tear this machinery out and refit the entire room?"

"Millions of credits," Arc ventured. Miller laughed.

"This old thing here cost over thirty million credits when it was installed, and they don't ever let us forget. I can't even imagine how much trouble someone would be in if we ever managed to actually break it. Anyway, here's what you're going to do first: you're going to work on breathing techniques. Deep breaths in, and then push the air out through your lips like you're breathing through a straw. Got it?" Arc nodded.

"Got it." Miller slapped him on the shoulder.

"You don't got it. Get ready to have a leatherback stand on your chest." In the evenings, they watched whatever footage Jessica could get in what Arc and his friends had all come to refer to as 'the war room.' All of the academy mechs, from the Tyros on up to the Kestrels, record everything that happened while they were in operation. Usually, that was used by piloting instructors to help their students focus on what they could do to improve their weak points.

As a result, there were potentially hundreds of hours of cockpit time stored in the academy databanks over the course of the past two years, only some of which would actually be useful.

"I started by excluding everything recorded before he tested out on a Kestrel," Jessica explained during the first study session, while she keyed up a recording on the study room's holo-projector.

"That still leaves most of last year and all of this year to date. Then, I tried to filter out anything that was just a routine patrol, anything that didn't have weapons being fired." Vee raised her hand.

"I still want to know how exactly you got all this." Jessica glared at her.

"The imperial guard has backdoor access into the academy systems," she shot back.

"As they do most imperial computers," Cassie's cousin Bhaskar pointed out.

"Moving on. Let us get a look at how he uses his weapons." With the first clip, Arc thought he noticed something. By the third, he was certain of it.

"He's not as good with his missiles as he is with the lasers," Arc said, the moment Jessica had stopped the recording and turned the study room's overhead lights back up.

"Indeed," Iceni confirmed. All of the pilot's AIs had agreed to hook into the speakers attached to the holoprojector, so that they could be part of the conversation.

"We have cross-checked our analysis. Cadet Radecki, accounting for all other factors, has a hit ratio eight percent lower with his missiles, as compared to his direct fire weapons."

"He's relying on his targeting systems completely," Bhaskar observed.

"He isn't making any manual adjustments, or even allowing his AI to nudge the maneuvering. I can only assume it's a lack of confidence." Arc made a note on his tablet.

"It might be enough for two good anti-missile turrets to keep his missiles off of me," he mused.

"Natalie, they're only half a ton each. Do you think you could bolt them onto unit seventeen's shoulders, or something?"

"I thought the plan was to lure him in so he couldn't use the missiles at all?" Natalie asked.

"It is," Arc said.

"But the plan's going to be modified as we learn more. And I want to stack every advantage we can possibly come up with before going up against him."

"Rip the autocannons out," Cassie suggested.

"Actually, no, they're better against that ablative armor. Take the light lasers instead, and use those hardpoints. They aren't much good for against a Kestrel, anyway."

"They won't be oriented right," Natalie pointed out.

"We might need to rig up some kind of ball and socket mechanism to give them as close to a three hundred and sixty degree firing arc as we can get. But we can use the existing ammo feeds, at least…" She pulled a stylus out from behind her ear, and began sketching on her own tablet.

"Alright," Arc said, looking back to Jessica.

"What have you got that can show us how he maneuvers in tight spaces?" Since they didn't have a Kestrel pilot yet, Ireti Ọlatẹru made time to join Arc in the simulation pods herself. She programmed in an unorthodox Culverin variant that carried the same missile loadout as a Kestrel A: chiefly, thirty-two short range missiles, and twin Centauran Optics heavy lasers, in place of the normal railguns.

It took a bit of playing with the simulation rules, because a Culverin simply didn't have room for the same amount of missile racks as the larger Kestrel, but in the end she simply fudged things by instructing a custom simulation program to assume that she had unlimited ammunition.

"That wasn't the only thing I had to mess with," Ọlatẹru grumbled, over the comm systems which linked the two simulator pods.

"The good news is that, while it's useful for a simulation to obey the laws of physics, it isn't strictly speaking necessary."

"Surface of Chel loaded," Cassie cut in.

"Starting the simulation now. Just under one sixth of a g." She'd insisted on coordinating their match herself, which made Arc a bit self-conscious. He suspected that he was about to look like a bit of an idiot. The simulation cut in around him, and the feel of his Tyro pushed away Arc's awareness of his own, physical body. Ammo and battery counts, the colored wireframe damage display, his targeting reticule, and an overhead map spawned at the edges of his vision.

He glanced down at his weapons readout, to confirm the changes had been made according to Natalie's specifications. It was a lot less time consuming to test out a different weapons loadout in a sim, of course, before ever picking a wrench up in the actual hangar bay. Rather than his normal light lasers, Arc saw that two Broadleaf Arms automated anti-missile turrets, each with six-hundred rounds of ammunition, were listed as online and ready to fire.

"For today, we're starting at a range of thirty-six klicks," Cassie told them.

"Those missiles actually have a longer range on a low gravity moon like Chel, but we won't worry about that quite yet. This is already going to be hard enough for you, Arc. Weapons free in three, two… one!" Arc moved immediately. The surface of Chel was rocky and irregular, and they'd selected a series of canyons and ravines, where the rock and stone extracted from Vidako had left rugged cliffs and embankments that he could, theoretically, use for cover.

Above the horizon was only the vast, star-strewn black of space, though one of the system's two stars was visible to provide light. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Things started to go wrong with the very first jump. Arc pushed off the ground to get his Tyro headed for a long slope that would take him down into the nearest canyon, but was immediately thrown off by the much lower gravity.

Instead of the low, fast run that he was used to, the mech bounded up above the surface of Chel, rising a full ten meters up above the surface. Incoming missiles detected, Iceni told him, at the apex of their arc. Eight contacts. The Tyro seemed to descend very slowly.

"I need thrusters," Arc grumbled.

"And chaff. I need chaff launchers." He was halfway back down to the ground when both anti-missile turrets lit off, spraying dozens of rounds of ammunition at the incoming missiles. Arc caught a glimpse of explosions where the shells connected with their targets. Two contacts eliminated, Iceni counted. Three.

The right foot of Arc's mech was just about to touch down on the rocky surface of Chel when one of the missiles hit—not a direct shot, but close enough that the blast picked his Tyro up in the low gravity and threw him sideways. The mech tumbled around, hit the ground once, twice, three times, bouncing like a skipping stone, and then finally came to a rest. The wire-frame damage readout blinked in shades of red, orange and yellow.

The only part of the mech which was still green was an incongruous section of his left arm that had, somehow, remained undamaged. With a groan, Arc tried to suppress his nausea and rolled the Tyro up onto its feet. Left shoulder-mounted autocannon destroyed, Iceni stated. Arc knew she was trying to be helpful, so he didn't let himself complain. Another eight contacts are already in the air. Target remains outside of our maximum range.

This time, Arc was careful not to push the mech up, so much as forward, when he got into motion.

"Something's out of whack in my left leg," he complained, as he made for the entrance to the canyon. It doesn't matter, Iceni told him. We won't make it there, anyway. The anti-missile turrets whirred to life and began to spit shells, doing their best to keep him alive. It wasn't enough.

"Alright, cadets, what did we learn?" Ireti Ọlatẹru said, her voice clearly tinged with amusement as it came over the comms.

"First of all, that Arc needs more cockpit time in low gravity," Cassie complained.

"We need to get him used to that before just throwing him up against you again."

"You can do that on your own time," Ọlatẹru said.

"I don't need to be around for it. While I'm here, we fight." Arc sighed.

"The two anti-missile systems actually did help," he said.

"I survived your first volley. If I'd had chaff and flares to eject, and thrusters to move, I might actually have gotten out of that clean."

"You're basically asking for a Kestrel, you know," the older cadet pointed out.

"Which would also have the internal gyroscopic systems to keep you from tumbling ass over tits. Focus on getting to cover. Let's go again." 𝝮 When Arc wasn't training in the sims or the centrifuge, in class, or making plans in their war room, he was writing essays or studying for exams. The last week before winter break was a nightmare, leaving him as short on sleep as he'd ever been during Hard Burn.

He worked straight through Thursday night on his essay for Professor Devault, and then had to actually print out twenty pages, on actual paper, before rushing across campus to drop it off.

"That is so archaic," Cassie said, when she met him on the way back to Tycho Hall.

"Why can't he just grade on a tablet, like everyone else?"

"He said he likes to write on the paper with a pen," Arc complained.

"Said it helps him to think better. All I can say is, I'm happy to finally be done with it. I feel like someone reached into my head, wrapped their hand around my brain, and squeezed." A slow, light drizzle wet their tunics, and the sky was overcast and gray. That is because your cerebrospinal fluids are flushing your brain while you remain awake, Iceni pointed out. Causing lapses in attention. If you had gone to sleep last evening, you would not now be suffering these symptoms.

The AI's tone made it sound as if the entire thing was a personal inconvenience to her, rather than to Arc himself. Cassie blew a raspberry with her tongue.

"You've convinced me not to take a single course with that guy if I can avoid it," she complained.

"He actually is really smart," Arc insisted.

"Just a little… eccentric."

"I guess that describes half the teachers here," Cassie admitted.

"Are you all packed?"

"Mostly," Arc said, and then raised his hands defensively as she shot him a look with narrowed eyes.

"Just a few things I had out while I was finishing up my coursework. I need five minutes, at most, to throw the last of it in my suitcase, and I'll meet you downstairs."

"That's what I should have got you," Cassie exclaimed, rolling her eyes as they came in sight of the entrance to Tycho Hall.

"A new suitcase, so you didn't have to lug that thing behind you on those busted old wheels. I can't believe I didn't even think of it! Anyway, Duchess Nicté's sent us a car to take us over to the spaceport, and it'll be here in –" she paused, and Arc assumed that Lyra was supplying her with a time.

"—twenty-eight minutes."

"I won't keep you waiting," Arc promised her. They took the steps together, and then he stepped aside to let her through the door first. From there, it was into an elevator, where he got out first on the second floor and sent Cassie on her way with a quick kiss. Arc wasn't entirely sure what to think about the prospect of spending his winter break with the Montalbans in New Toledo.

He liked the kids well enough, the duchess had seemed nice, and he thought that he might be able to get a few tips about how to survive his upcoming duel from Commander Esteban and his husband. The duke himself, though, seemed to carry around a permanent chip on his shoulder about the emperor's perceived mistreatment of his world, and that could make things awkward very quickly. He really hoped that he and Cassie didn't have to spend day after day sitting through Alvarez Montalban's complaints.

What he didn't have second thoughts about was the idea of getting just over three weeks with Cassie, without a single exam hanging over their heads. Classes didn't resume until January 13th, which meant they didn't have to fly back to campus until that Sunday evening. As he hurried down the corridor toward dorm 207, Arc wondered exactly what that would be like.

Since August, they'd been kept so busy by the academy that every opportunity to snatch a moment alone, to collapse onto a couch together in the lounge, or to sneak a kiss was precious. A part of him couldn't help but wonder whether, given unlimited time together with nothing in particular to do, she might get bored of him. After all, before coming to Vidako, her life had been an unending succession of charity galas, state dinners, and high society functions the likes of which he probably couldn't even imagine.

What would he even have to talk about with her, for three weeks? He knew, of course, that there was nothing to worry about. Cassie hated those things. She was the girl who'd talk someone's ear off about mech loadouts for an hour, without ever slowing down. She was a gear-head to the bone, and what she wanted most in life was to be a pilot. Receptions at the imperial palace—those were things she put up with because she had to, not because she enjoyed them.

Slowing his steps, Arc reached out for the handle of his dorm room and wondered whether Jessica Morrow might be convinced to take a few days of her own vacation, and let them be. If the duke and duchess put them in the same rooms as last time, they'd be just across the hall from each other – Arc didn't even notice there was someone else in the room until after he'd stepped through the door, so distracted was he by the thought of getting Cassie alone without her bodyguard.

Pika had left in the morning for Stellar Abyss, and he'd assumed that Cal would be on his way, as well. Instead, the admiral's son slouched in a chair at the leftmost of the two desks which they all shared, his tablet propped up before him. The lights were off, and the bright glare from the screen painted Cal's face with a washed out, sickly light.

"—can't give you details, of course, but I imagine you've seen a few things in the news," an older man's voice blared out from the tablet's speakers.

"All I'll say is that I intend to be ready for a fight, and that I think there's an element in fleet command that may be underestimating this whole thing."

"However," Vice Admiral Farragut Madine said, gazing out at his son with cold eyes, "I absolutely will not accept this deployment becoming any sort of distraction or excuse for you. When the grades for your first semester post, I expect you to be at the top of your class. I've done everything I can to prepare you for command, but at the end of the day success can only come from you. Do not disappoint me." The video froze, and the voice stopped.

"Sorry," Arc said.

"I was just coming to grab my luggage. I didn't mean to interrupt." Cal waved a hand; it might have been the most casual gesture that Arc had ever seen him make.

"Going home to your family?" he asked.

"No." Arc shook his head, pulled his suitcase out of the closet, and threw his tablet in on top of his clean clothes.

"No, Cassie and I are heading over to New Toledo for the break."

"That must be nice," Cal said, and for just a moment, a pure chord of absolute bitterness filled his voice.

"I'll be staying here." Arc closed his suitcase, but hesitated.

"I know we're not close," he began, slowly.

"But if you ever want to talk –""I don't need your pity, Sandhurst," Cal Madine said.

"Get going. Don't keep your princess waiting. I'll be fine." Without another word, Arc turned and stepped out of the room, leaving Cal alone in the dark.