Citation Series 1: Naero's War: The Annexation War (8 page)

Naero
still marveled at the modern, advanced medicine of their time.

How terrible it must have been, before people had
possessed advanced regeneration and restoration techniques. Medical procedures that were now nearly taken for granted, by those who did not need them.

Naero
finally went back to her flagship after each visit–exhausted–but usually she slept fitfully.

She struggled not to blame herself
.

The war was at fault, not the people
conducting and fighting it.

And their war still just
both just and necessary.

Each crew
member took his or her own chances.

Any of them could die
.

Any of them could be wounded
.

At any moment
, including Naero herself.

Naero ignored her own slight wounds and superficial burns. They were alrea
dy healing. In a few days or weeks, they would be completely erased.

Nothing like
what Mariisha and Kelment were going through.

But s
he or anyone fighting the war could still join them at any time–or the dead, for that matter.

That was what everyone needed to understand. Not dwell on or obsess about it, but simply rationalize it. Perhaps each person did so in their own way, and the path of denial simply worked best. 

Naero returned to
The
Columbia
each day for the majority of the next few days.

Sometimes, if the hospital ship was particularly overloaded, Zhen would hunt her down and put her to work
.

“Get to it,
N. You’ve had lots of medtek training. We need every pair of hands today.”

In those situations, Naero pitched in directly, rank or no rank
.

If she was off duty, she could do whatever she wanted to with her time
, just like any one else.

Strangely enough, it was
half-Yattai empath Shalaen who could not handle being around so many wounded all at once. She visited the hospital ship–only once. Then she balked and departed quickly, and never came there again.

Being around that many people in pai
n was extremely difficult for an empath.

The way
Shalaen explained it to Naero–with haunted eyes–not being able to heal like her fully-Yattai mother could, it frustrated and tormented Shalaen greatly. It left her helpless before the suffering and torment of so many others, gathered together in one place.

When
Shalaen could feel everything so many felt at once, and yet she could do nothing to help them, or ease their suffering.

For all of her
empathic powers and Cosmic abilities, there were some things that remained beyond Shalaen’s amazing abilities, and that lack served only to torment her beyond what she could bear.

After
Naero’s latest visit to
The
Columbia
to help the wounded, she finally understood why Admiral Kinmal insisted that she should go among them at such length.

Casualty numbers would have
a much greater and poignant meaning to her now.

And despite their heavy losses, at least the wounded still had a chance to recover and take up their lives again, whatever they endured
.

Life remained
sweet to all of them, and hope endured, as long as there was life and a chance at life.

But never for the dead
.

The
dead lost everything outright and up front. Death was unforgiving and offered no second chances.

She thought she understood that once, but war thundered and hammered that reality home every day
.

10

Naero’s first disguise
that she used to walk and work among her crews was that of a starfighter pilot replacement.

With her youth, that was
more than plausible. And she was already an excellent fighter pilot.

She wore a
blond nanowig that fused itself to her own hair and could not readily be pulled off, even in a fight. The style was a sharp cut bob with long, tapered sides that angled up to the back. Shorter in back, and much shorter than her own long hair, tucked up under the wig.

She found it rather fun
and surprising to have a new look.

Nice to be a
blond for a change, and it also felt liberating to also be someone else for a while–a clean break from the pressures of her responsibilities.

She called herself Amina
, Amina Kurtz, from Clan Kurtz.

Amina-Naero
was assigned for further training under one of Commander Chaela Maeris’ starfighter squadrons. This allowed Amina-Naero to come and go according to orders that she herself controlled, as the strike fleet captain.

Such
transfer orders were not uncommon, especially among reserve personnel. They bopped around in many roles and situations on several vessels here and there.

Reserve personnel got shunted around as needed, and often came and went at a moment’s notice
.

Naero also
decided to change her appearance by wearing a lot of programmable nanomakeup that was easy to apply and manipulate.

She normally didn’t wear
that much in the way of cosmetics, so she took a page from Saemar’s playbook.

The results were startling
.

Even she hardly recognized herself
.

Amina-Naero
joined The Fire Hornets, 147th Alliance Star Fighter Wave, Fifth Squadron, 2nd Fighter Wing. Assignment: replacement reserve fighter pilot.

They flew a modified, souped-up version of the Joshua Tech F-100C S
uper Cobra, with its signature 50 mm heavy pulse cannons, mounted both fore and aft. Along with the added punch of three particle beam guns in each short wing.

All of that firepower made The Super Cobra a force to be reckoned with as a heavy tactical, space superiority fighter
.

And since it had been updated and refitted with the latest avionics, power core, armor, and shields–The F-100 Charlie had one of the highest survivability ratings in the Alliance Fleets
.

Pilots loved it because it kept them alive and brought them back. They made it their workhorse
.

There was even an F-100T. The t
ango version was a two-seater training version, with the instructor sitting above and slightly behind the the trainee, dual controls standard.

Naero checked out with Fifth Squadron’s training officer, Leftenant Command
er Ortega, in one of the tangos. She officially got her wings and was cleared to be attached to the unit as a backup pilot.

Ortega was impressed with her performance on her training runs
.

This, d
espite the fact that Amina-Naero was actually holding back, making several small mistakes that she wouldn’t normally make–in order to further her cover.

She succeeded in making herself look promising, but still inexperienced
.

“You still have a lot to learn, Ensign Kurtz. But whoever trained you did a superb job. I wish all of our
reserve replacements came to us with as much talent and potential skill as you demonstrate. Good luck, ensign. Welcome to The Fire Hornets.”

“Thank you, sir
.”

They exchanged salutes
.

She learned that Fifth Squadron usually formed up into two wings of ten starfighters each. When they fought, they took on the enemy in pairs, with a lead ship and a wingman. Wing commanders directed the two wings as needed
.

When they did not have direct orders or targets, standard doctrine directed that they attack and defeat the nearest enemy available
–until the foe was either destroyed, rendered ineffective, or chased off.

In war, there was often a lot
of down time between battles, engagements, and major campaigns. Typical military experience; lots of boredom, and then a few minutes to hours, or days of sheer terror, chaos, and destruction all around.

Fighter pilots on duty had to stand ready to prep and launch in a matter of
seconds or minutes at most, where every second counted.

Naero stored her gear and met with the other nineteen pilots in their barracks on board
The
Bulldog
. Five others were new reserve replacements, just like her. She met the other backup pilot that she would be wingman to–another Ensign named Laedon James. He had already survived his first battle.

His wingman had not. Hence the
revolving need for another replacement.

To pass the time, Laedon and Amina-Naero played cards, stellar chess, or various vid games with the other nineteen pilots in her wing
.

She’d been around Chaela and Saemar and other fighter pilots
long enough to know how many of them behaved. She did most everything within the acceptable range, so as not to stand out or attract too much attention.

They gambled small wagers on cards, on stellar chess, on vids, dice, dominoes–anything with an element of chance to it
.

“So
, what am I getting myself into with this unit and your commanders?” Amina-Naero asked her new mates.

“Where’d you come from and who did you serve under?” came the
standard response from one veteran pilot, answering her question with a question.

The woman did not even look
up from her cards.

“I had my initial training under Admiral Sleak Maeris, with the 112th
Alliance Star Fighter Wave, Fourth Squadron, 6th Fighter Wing. I’ve bounced around a lot as a backup and reserve pilot since then. Haven’t seen any action yet.”

A very plausible answer. That sort of thing was commonplace, especially for
young backups and reserves.

The veteran
–already an ace many times over–at twenty-two years of age, grimaced briefly.

“Less chance to die. Count yourself lucky, kid
.”

Another vet chimed in. “Fleet Captain Maeris is a hard-nosed hellcat, much like her aunt, our glorious Admiral. She
does some crazy shit in battle–like some kind of a savant.” This guy didn’t bother looking at her when he spoke either.

Naero put on her best worried face. “Like
, what kind of crazy?”

“The best kind of crazy,” the last guy added
with a chuckle. “Crazy as in stuff the enemy doesn’t expect. That drives them nutsoid and helps us beat their asses bloody. Don’t worry, newb. If the fleet cap doesn’t get you killed in the process, you’ll learn to love her. You might shake your head a lot at first, but it’ll be okay in the end.”

The female vet got mad and threw her cards down, her face scarlet
.

“Don’t tell the kid that, Yuben! You can’t know how it’s gonna be for her or anyone. Not even you. How can you say things are going to be okay? Remind me when they have been okay
?”

“Easy
, Jem. Whatever happens, it’s all gonna be okay. We can’t control it anyway. So why worry about it?”

“Yeah, your pat, dumbass answer for everything. I’m just saying. The kid could go out and get blown to hell on her first mission
–just like the last guy. That’s the same thing you told him. So, you can’t just say everything’s automatically going to be okay. Because it isn’t.”

Naero let her eyes stare wide and swallowed hard
.

Yuben frowned, squirming only slightly as Jem pressed her point
.

“Like any of us can control any of that. Don’t let her rattle you, kid. Just do your best. That’s all
any of us can ever do. Then whatever else happens, it’s all okay.”

Jem shook her outstretched, trembling fingertips in the air like claws
.

“Idiot!
”

Yuben ignored her frustration and focused on the card game at hand
.

Amina-Naero
quietly asked a few questions about several recent battles that she had heard about.

The squadron gave their opinions, based on their perspective and the information they had
.

Aunt Sleak was right again
.

It did help to get several opinions from different points of view. Naero gained valuable insights on those battles from listening to those fighter pilots debate stuff back and forth
.

She even realized a few
minor mistakes she had made here and there, and that she would strive not to make again in the future.

But it became
increasingly clear that the life-and-death decisions she made always affected so many others. And although not everyone agreed with her every decision, at least they had an overall respect for her ability to fight, and her skill to lead them to victory.

Another problem presented itself
.

Ensign Laedon kept watching her—
a lot. Obviously enamored of her.

She knew she was still cute, even with her new look
.

This
sort of thing was bound to happen.

Fighter pilots were well-known for being a randy, romantic lot
.

Saemar was one extreme, but there it was
.

Laedon tried to talk with her, do little favors for her, get to know her better
.

They guy wasn’t smooth, but he wasn’t a jerk either. Just a normal, average guy
, trying to make some time with someone new and cute.

Naero liked him
all right as crew–but there wasn’t any spark there. She just wasn’t interested.

Th
at wasn’t her goal anyway–to fool around with some subordinates anonymously. Tempting, but that just wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Naero had a strict policy about not playing games with peoples’ hearts and emotions.

She was the
polar opposite of Saemar when it came to casual relationships.

In fact, she often chided herself for almost continually going out of her way to avoid private and romantic relationships
.

Hence her sustained and secret virgin status
.

She
was in fact extremely choosy, but that again was still just another excuse. She knew that as well.

Yet the more she evaded him, the harder
Laedon pursued her. Go figure.

Predators always
seemed drawn to prey that ran from them.

She finally let him down easy, explaining that she already had a
steady guy somewhere else.

A lie of course, but a convenient one
.

Laedon
took the hint, but he still flirted with her from time to time, just in case she changed her mind.

Naero spent time with The Fire Hornets
here and there for about five more days while the fleet refitted in the rear areas, and then moved up toward the front lines again.

She learned most of what she
wanted to know from that bunch during that time.

Many
of her people seemed to see Captain Maeris as slightly nuts, but also skilled and gifted. That much was probably all true.

But a
t least they had great respect for her overall leadership, regardless of what they thought about her as a person. Most of them did not know her personally, so they just guessed.

Some even made up stuff
.

Then several women and even a few of the guys started chatting excitedly
, as a hot new rumor began to spread.

“
Have you heard? Max Lii might be joining our strike fleet!”

“Max Lii? The Throck Star?!
”

“No, you derp–Max Lii, the dishwasher. Of course it’s the Throck
star.
Haisha!
”

The news and all the wild rumors
along with it blazed throughout the ship, and then the fleet.

Secretly, Naero hoped those rumors were true.
Max was pretty glacier. She and the fleet could use some good news, and a little excitement that didn’t involve death and mayhem.

When the time
finally came, Amina-Naero Kurtz took another transfer to another ship, in another fleet.