Read Alliance of Serpents Online

Authors: Kevin Domenic

Tags: #fiction, #scifi, #fantasy, #sword and sorcery, #young adult, #space opera, #science fiction, #teen, #the fourth dimension, #alliance of serpents

Alliance of Serpents (12 page)

She led him out of the gym and down the hall,
past the cafeteria and the lift, to a series of sequentially
numbered doors. The words "Flight Simulation Training Facility"
were engraved in large letters across the wall above them. Small
control panels were set in the wall beside every door, each with
small green lights above them. Kitreena stopped in front of the
first, a door labeled with a large number one in white, and typed a
brief command into its control panel. The green light turned red
with a beep, and the door whisked open. "This is where we train
recruits to fly a starfighter," she explained. "In the future, if
you wish to use the simulator, and this light is red, it means
someone is already in there. Just choose a different room."

He followed her into a darkened room, though
the single dim light above clearly showed what was inside. A steel
walkway about six paces long led to a small grey chair set down
into the floor and surrounded by three panels of buttons, switches,
and dials. The ceiling was nothing more than a low dome of black
fabric suspended just a head or two above Arus. "Go ahead and have
a seat," Kitreena said. Arus dropped into the chair, taking care
not to kick what she called the "control stick" as he slipped his
feet down on either side. "This is a replication of a standard
fighter's cockpit. Don't let yourself be overwhelmed by the number
of buttons you've got in front of you, because many are only used
for specific reasons that you don't always encounter during a
routine flight. I'll take you through each eventually, but we're
going to start at the beginning. First things first; you need to
put on your safety harness."

The harness was a square of brown leather
straps that ran across his middle and up around his shoulders,
holding him firmly in the seat. As soon as he was comfortably
harnessed, Kitreena pointed to a darkened screen embedded in the
control panel to his left. "This is the communication device. Every
Alliance starfighter has one, and they all look just like this. You
can switch it on by touching this button at the top," she said,
pressing a thin red button above the screen. The display
illuminated with green numbers reading one hundred and forty-two.
"That's the current frequency setting. One forty-two is the
standard Aeden combat channel. You can change the frequency by
pressing on these arrows," she tapped an arrow facing upward and
the number changed to one forty-three. The arrow facing down
returned it to one forty-two. "Or, you can type the frequency you
want directly into this number pad." The pointed at the series of
numbered buttons beside the arrows. "As long as you have this
activated, you can speak with anyone on the combat channel."

Arus certainly didn't understand how people
could hear his voice through a mechanical device, but then, he
didn't understand
how
most machines worked despite having
one implanted into his body. "Oh, all right," he murmured, trying
to make it sound as though he understood.

Kitreena giggled softly. "You'll get the hang
of all this. I know you can. For now, sit tight. I'm going to jump
into the next simulator and connect with you. It'll be easier to
teach you that way."

When the door slid shut behind her, Arus took
a brief look at the rest of the controls. Most were grouped
together in different sections and separated by thin white lines of
paint, some with labels and others blank and mysterious. From his
own experience with the implant, he recognized the scanner controls
by their names, though he didn't have a clue of how to work them;
the implant had taken care of those duties on its own. Another
screen sat in the center of the front console, larger than any of
the others. Elevated plates of steel rested just in front of either
foot, and the polished black control stick lined with buttons and
contoured to fit a person's grip comfortably sat between his knees.
There was going to be so much for Kitreena to teach, but he was
eager to learn anything that anyone was willing to show him. If he
was going to help take down the Kyrosen and this Vezulian Armada
that Damien had told him about, he was going to have to train as
hard as he could, not just in swordplay, but in any form of battle
that he could potentially encounter.

"All right, Arus, you there?" Kitreena's
voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Um . . . Yes," he said, lowering his mouth
beside the communications panel. "Can you hear me?"

There was a long silence before she finally
responded, and when she did, it seemed like she was forcing back
laughter. "You're holding your face right next to the panel, aren't
you?" It didn't sound like a question, and she didn't give him a
chance to answer. "There's no need for that. I'll be able to hear
you no matter which direction you're looking or how high you hold
your head."

If she saw how red his cheeks were now, she'd
surely be giggling again. "Oh, all right."

She cleared her throat, and when she spoke
again, she sounded like a professional instructor going through a
routine lesson. It was clear she'd done this a number of times.
"Very well, let's get started. The consoles you see around you will
serve as your eyes and ears when out in space. Learn to use them as
you would a hand or a leg, but don't rely on them over your own
brain. Machines can malfunction, and you'll need to be able to
identify a proper scanner readout or radar report from a faulty
one. This simulator has been programmed to occasionally feed you
such a faulty report, so be aware, and don't let yourself lose
sight of common sense."

"I understand," Arus said. "I'll do my
best."

"All right," she continued, "let's begin the
simulation. First and foremost, never forget to strap on your
safety harness. It is vital to your own protection when flying a
starfighter. Since your harness is already on, we can proceed."

With a whirring hum, a series of long glass
plates rose from the floor around the cockpit, completely
surrounding him. They folded together at the top to create a roof
of glass overhead, sealing him inside. Seconds later, they
illuminated, and Arus' jaw nearly fell into his lap. The image of
the
Refuge's
hangar surrounded him, filling each glass plate
as though he were actually sitting in the starfighter hangar bay.
There were other ships lined beside him, and crewmen ran back and
forth servicing them. It was a near-perfect replica of what he'd
seen in the real hanger, though an occasional half-second blip in
the image told him it was just a projection. Still, given his lack
of experience with machines, it was a marvel unlike anything he'd
ever seen, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn't seem to
close his mouth.

"The
Refuge
has a two-floor system for
the arrival and departure of fighters and transports." Kitreena's
voice startled him from his daze. "Once you are in your ship, the
servicemen will signal flight control that you are cleared for
takeoff, and they will lower your ship to the departure bay." As
she finished the sentence, the ground shifted, and the starfighter
began to descend through the floor. The most startling aspect of it
all was that Arus could actually feel himself moving down. How the
simulator recreated all of this was beyond him, but it certainly
made for a realistic experience. "Once you've been lowered, the
upper level will be sealed off so that the doors to space can be
opened without disturbing the pressurization of the hangar." While
she explained it, Arus watched as two large interlocking plates
came together overhead to seal the room. Once they had successfully
connected, the wall ahead began to split apart. An endless sea of
stars lay beyond.

"Powering up the ship is easy," Kitreena
continued. "You first power on your stabilizers, then your main
engines. They are silver switches located on the front of the
console just beside the main terminal screen. Flip all three from
left to right whenever you're ready." Arus did so, and was
surprised when his seat started to rumble beneath him. The dull
whine of the engines grew behind him, and the ship lifted—he
actually
felt
it lift—from the deck. "Next, pull in your
landing struts with the red switch beneath the engine power." The
switch produced an electronic buzz and a brief rattle from deep
within the ship, but he saw no outward change. "And now you're
ready to leave the hangar. Place your feet on the pedals and tilt
them forward slowly."

The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever
felt before. The engine whined, and the fighter smoothly glided
through the open doors. "This is amazing," he murmured. "I can
actually feel the ship moving as if we're really out there!"

"That's what the simulator is designed to do.
The idea is to prepare you for the dangers of space in an
environment where those dangers
seem
real yet are not." She
was clearly amused by his shock.

A second starfighter passed overhead before
swinging down beside him on the right. "Hey, there's another ship
here," he told her.

"I know," she giggled, "that's me. Are you
ready for the next lesson?"

"I'm ready!"

The next several hours seemed to pass in a
heartbeat as Kitreena took him through a series of maneuvering and
positioning drills and even gave him a chance to test his firing
accuracy on a few dummy targets. It opened him up to a whole new
world of combat; a new method for defending others from the evil of
men like Sartan Truce. At the same time, it gave no comfort to know
that such weapons were in the hands of those who would enslave and
murder innocent people. It gave an unfair advantage that could be
used against them, just as the Kyrosen had done to humans during
the Vermilion War. But with that technology now in Arus' hands, he
could use it to keep them from pressing that advantage against
those powerless to defend against it. And anything that gave him an
extra tool for fighting against evil like that was most certainly
an asset to him.
I'm going to train in this simulator just as
hard as I'm going to train my blade. What happened to me will
not
happen to anyone else as long as I'm alive!

"You're really beginning to get the hang of
this," Kitreena said as he completed another positioning drill.
"You're well on your way to becoming a talented pilot!"

"How often can I use this simulator?" Arus
asked, practicing another of the formation techniques she'd taught
him.

"Whenever there's an open room," she told
him. "Don't worry about disrupting the training of others. I linked
our simulator terminals for the purposes of this particular lesson,
but unless it is programmed that way by an administrator, each room
will run its own simulation."

"Great! All right, then, what's our next
lesson?"

"Well, next we're going to—" She was cut off
by a short beep. "Hold on a second."

The communications terminal went dead for a
minute or two. Arus recognized the beep as her personal
communicator, but she must've turned off the transmitter in her
simulator before responding. In the meantime, Arus pulled his ship
into parallel to hers and performed a full rotation up and over her
craft, ending on her opposite side. He repeated the maneuver over
and over, each movement more precise than the last. Kitreena's
voice came back in the middle of a rotation, throwing his
concentration. His ship hung upside down over hers, and only the
safety harness held him into his seat.

"I'm sorry, Arus, but we've got to cut this
short," she told him in a panic. "I forgot that Damien and I were
scheduled to interrogate the Kyrosen prisoners at seven this
morning and now it's half past."

"Oh, that's all right," he responded, turning
his craft upright. "I'll just—" He stopped in mid-sentence as he
realized what she'd said. "Wait, what Kyrosen prisoners?"

"The ones we captured when we picked you up,"
she said simply. "Why?"

A million questions raced through Arus' mind.
If there were Kyrosen prisoners onboard, one of them may have
knowledge about the implant. Maybe even knowledge of how to remove
it. If not, then they'd surely have knowledge about Truce's plans.
Regardless, they held a wealth of information that he wanted access
to. "Can I come?"

"You . . . you want to watch us interrogate
some prisoners?"

"No, I want to help. I know these guys,
Kitreena. I was one of them for a while. I may be able to tell you
if one of them is lying, and they may be able to tell me if there's
a way to get this bloody implant out of my head."

"I'll have to speak with Damien first," her
voice came back, "but if he agrees then I'll take you down to the
prison level with me."

"Thank you, Kitreena. I appreciate it." All
he needed was one Kyrosen doctor or scientist or technician down
there, and maybe he'd have hope of restoring his humanity somehow.
And if there were none, surely whoever
had
been captured
would be able to point him in the right direction. Doc Nori claimed
that the implant couldn't be removed without killing him, but
before Arus, a machine had never been successfully integrated into
a living brain. Truce's research had led him to previously
uncharted technological territory, and if there was any one who
could return Arus to normal, it would be him.

*******

Kindel stood at the peak of Mount Xenet, the
largest mountain of his home planet of Zo'rhan. The cloth-covered
weapon in his hand still vibrated occasionally, trembling in its
own bizarre way. Ominous clouds of grey and black swirled above his
head in a spiral of burning ice and frozen flames, cold enough to
freeze a man's bones on contact; hot enough to melt steel from a
distance. Sweat oozed from every pore, rolling down his face and
trickling down his back, yet his body shivered as though he was
naked in an ice storm. Below him lay the corpses of slain Ma'tuul.
Beasts of every shape and size littered the mountainside, the
trails, the forests, the streams, and the rocks. The stillness of
death stretched further still, reaching beyond the foothills and
off toward the dark horizon. Zo'rhan had been saved, cleansed of
the cancer that would have brought an end to the world. Those that
remained were safe, but the price was a debt that could never truly
be paid.

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