The Honour of the Knights, Stephen J. Sweeney [reading women .txt] 📗

because those stationed on the orbital handle that, although some of our patrols do end rather late and then we might have an early one the next morning. Today I've got another day off after four days of patrolling. There are a few towns nearby, but I couldn't be bothered to head into any of them. I felt like just unwinding and doing a bit of a work on my journal, so I went for a walk instead.

I've never been stationed on a planet that had an orbital ring before, at least, if I was, I don't remember being so. It's only half finished, but it is quite a beautiful and surreal sight. On clear days you can make out the ring from the ground, high in the sky. It's in a geostationary orbit, so it's pretty much the same thing every time, but it's still amazing to look at. Night times are spectacular, with portions of the ring lit up in the sky. I expect that once it is finished then it'll be even more so (although that's probably wishful thinking since I'm told it probably won't be for quite sometime).

Chaz seems to have come out of his shell a bit. They have a number of boxing and other martial art type classes here, so he and Enrique often go there together to practice. I'm not sure if there is much left for Enrique to learn, but he tells me that Chaz is helping him to hone some of his skills, so I guess there's a lot more to it.

He's still a touch grumpy though and doesn't have a lot to say, so you could probably imagine my surprise when he came over and spoke to me. I was sitting on my bed writing and he asked me if I wanted to go for a run with him. He hardly said a word to me while we were jogging, but we held a good pace together and he slowed when I needed to (I really need to work on my stamina). We spoke briefly afterwards, but it was mainly about the run. I decided not to talk about anything else though, didn't want to burn any bridges. We're still not sure what got him so upset with Commodore Parks. I saw that he got another one of his video disks a couple of days ago. He also received one when we were stationed at Xalan, but became really defensive when we asked him about it. I'm intrigued as to what's on them, but we've decided it's best not to ask him about it, just in case he stops talking to us again.

I do feel sorry for Estelle though. We might be enjoying ourselves here more than we expected to, but Estelle sees herself as being stuck in a rut. I think she put in a request for a transfer, but it was denied. I hate to sound selfish, but I'm glad. She's one of my dearest friends and I would hate to see her go. I can sort of understand what she's going through though. She really had her heart set on things back at Xalan and the transfer here (especially given Spirit's reputation) must have nearly killed her inside.

“Kelly?”

The word drifted through Kelly Taylor's head as she continued to work, failing to registering. It being her day off she had spent most of the day writing, the stylus strokes of her normal handwriting being transformed into characters on the screen. Just now something had broken her concentration and she struck through the word she had written to erase it, trying to regain her train of thought.

“Kelly? Hey!” an impatient voice called out, making the young woman jump. Kelly looked up from where she sat, cross legged on her bed, to see that Estelle had been demanding her attention.

“Sorry, Estelle, what did you say?” Kelly asked. She then noticed that Estelle was wearing her flight suit and felt a small twinge of panic in the pit her of stomach.

“I said hurry the hell up because you're going to make us late for our patrol! Our transport is waiting to go!”

“I... I thought we had the day off?”

“No, that's tomorrow! They changed the schedule this morning! Come on Kelly, you've only got a couple of minutes to suit up! We've got to get to landing zone G and that's not exactly next door!”

Kelly swore as she jumped off her bed and hurriedly began packing up her belongings. She cursed herself for being so busy that day reviewing her journal, correcting spelling and reading through past entries that she had neglected to check the patrol schedule. She tugged open her locker, pulling out her flight suit and boots, tearing off her clothes and throwing them to the floor.

She struggled to get into her flight suit as fast as possible, managing to get one leg in and then starting on the next. The flight suits were skin tight and did not slip on very easily; it was like trying to put on a wetsuit...

“Stop bloody staring, you perv!” Estelle's voice came. Kelly followed Estelle's icy glare to a man who had been reclining on his bed opposite, reading a book. He had since lowered it to take a look at Kelly as she stood in her underwear, but with Estelle glaring at him, he was once again returning to his reading material. Kelly saw Estelle turn back to her once more, her eyes still narrowed, and quickly turned away to concentrate on getting ready. She didn't want to hear any accusations roll off Estelle's tongue right now, she was more than capable of imagining what they might be, having heard them on occasions before: wondering how Kelly could be such a good pilot and yet so absent minded at other times, spending too much time scribbling in her journal when there were more important things - such as this - that she needed to pay attention to, and questioning why she kept a journal at all; no good would ever come from all the constant writing.

Thankfully, Kelly was just about done.

“Do the rest on the way,” Estelle suggested whilst Kelly's fingers attended to the various clips on her boots. Her boots more or less fastened, Kelly picked up her personal belonging and threw them in her locker before securing it. Although she got on well with the others in their shared quarters, she did not know any of them well enough yet to trust them. She had also written little comments about each of them in her journal that she thought they'd be better off not seeing.

“Okay, ready.” Kelly said, turning back to Estelle.

“Kelly, where's your helmet?” Estelle said.

Kelly looked at the floor, then her bed and realised that she'd left it inside the locker. She yanked it out and then secured the locker once more.

“Ready?” Estelle asked once Kelly finally appeared to be done. She did not wait for an answer before indicating that they had wasted enough time already.

“Where are the others?” Kelly asked, as the pair hastened down the various well lit corridors, dodging other inhabitants of the base as they sort to ensure they made it to the transport in time.

“They're there already. I came back to find you.”

“Sorry.”

“Just don't make a habit of it.”

They stepped out of the barracks, into the open air, where they stepped up their pace in order to reach the assigned pick-up point. The shuttle craft awaited their arrival, but Kelly could see the air around the engines shimmering, indicating that it was prepared to set off the moment the two women were aboard.

An air marshal stood by the side door watched their approach. “de Winter? Taylor?” he asked the pair as they arrived at the transport.

They nodded, somewhat out of breath.

“Good. Get inside. We almost had to go without you.”

The door shut and bolted behind them and they sat down on one of the two steel benches running either side of the length of the craft.

“Hey,” Kelly said to the rest of her team, once she managed to get her breath back. The shuttle was full today, all thirty places taken up. Kelly reached up and pulled the restraining harness down around her. The transport was far less glamorous than the one they had used when they had been ferried to and from Xalan, being a lot more cramped and uncomfortable with no view of the outside world.

“Journal?” Enrique, whom she had sat next to, whispered in her ear. She gave a sheepish nod in reply. It wasn't the first time - and unlikely to be the last - that her hobby had almost landed her in serious trouble.

“Prepare for takeoff,” the transport's pilot called back at them. The craft shuddered as the engines engaged and Kelly felt them leave the ground. The shuddering increased as the transport lifted them into orbit. She always hated this part. Even after several weeks of having to endure it, it still did not get any better. Around her others had a tight hold of their restraining bars, some with their eyes closed. She joined in. The journey to the orbital station was not long, and a short time later the restraining bars were disengaged.

* * *

“Today you will be patrolling route Delta D-15,” the Officer of the Deck said as he handed Estelle an electronic map of the route around the Temper system. “You should ensure that you hit all four check points at least once an hour.”

Dodds stole a glance over Estelle's shoulder at the route map to see if there was anything interesting on their patrol that day; even a minute piece of information that might make the next four hours a bit more bearable. There was nothing. For Dodds the patrols were now becoming a chore; a regular job that he dreaded going to each morning and which did nothing except take up his free time. He desperately wanted something to happen to break the monotony of the hours he spent in the cockpit. He had twice had to endure just over six hours in the seat, doing nothing but watching a jumpgate and its uninteresting traffic flow, with little more than an hour's break. It was just as he had feared after Meyers' briefing all those weeks ago and he had been mentally and physically exhausted after both of those. It was like being tortured to death.

The flight deck of the orbital station was never silent. Starfighters were for ever being returned to their bays or taxiing to the catapult, preparing for launch. Engineers and technicians were working to repair wear and tear, as well as performing general maintenance. Munitions handlers were moving heavy-laden trolleys around the deck, so that they could be loaded onto fighters.

A number of different craft occupied the bays here, the TAF being the most common. Next there was the two-seater Ray. Though the fighter was less nimble than the TAF, it benefited from greater defensive and offensive capabilities. On their patrols Chaz and Enrique would usually fly one together, availability allowing. Otherwise their flight group consisted exclusively of TAFs.

Several Rooks occupied other bays, though none of them had moved in all the weeks that Dodds had been stationed at Spirit, the fighters' main purpose said to be the defence of the station itself. The Rooks were almost never allocated to patrols, the easier to maintain TAFs and Rays being given that duty. Dodds was not fond of the Rook himself, the craft feeling far too bulky and sluggish in flight. It felt even worse in combat, where lighter and faster starfighters could outmanoeuvre it. Even so he had, at one time, looked upon the Rook in awe; there had been no denying it was a powerful craft. He now gave them little more than a sideways glance, aware that the crown belonged to another.

“Hot out there today?” Enrique said, as Dodds and Estelle continued to study the route map.

“Been all quiet so far, sir,” the officer replied.

The response did not surprise Dodds. Should have applied for that damn transfer, he thought. Though after Estelle had been denied her own request to seek adventure and excitement elsewhere - actually, in her case, recognition - he was pretty certain he knew what the answer to his would be: remain at Spirit until further notice. He was just going to have to lump it for the time being; he was not about to return to Earth with his tail between his legs.

Around Dodds others were finishing their patrols. He watched with envy as the appreciative pilots removed their helmets and left the flight deck to return to their quarters for a well-earned hot shower. He looked forward to being in their position later on. At least today's patrol was only three hours long.

He watched as Estelle clicked through the map a few times, scrutinizing each segment before handing it back.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Everything good?” the