08 July, 2586
The computer read off a list of systems into my helmet.
“Reactor, online. Controls, online. Sensors, online. Communications, online. Weapons, online. All systems nominal.”
Another faint voice continually stated atmospheric conditions and a surface-level weather report while I completed my checklist.
“You know, most people are going to think ‘Rook’ is short for ‘Rookie’, not the chess piece. You good with that?”
I looked at the pilot to my left. It had been several years, but she still filled out her flight armor just the way she had when we first met.
“It’s just a name,” I replied, punching in a set of grids into the navigation computer.
Matrix chuckled and flipped several switches before testing the flight controls. “Fair enough. Go ahead then, Rook. Make the call.”
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I couldn’t fight the grin. Months of fighting Captain Meyer before finally being permitted to re-class. A battery of physical and medical screenings. Three years of studying, tests, and training. All for this. My first combat sortie--a show of force around Camp Rotterdam, the UNN base on the sole planet of the Kepler-61 system.
“Denmother, Valkyrie two-four requesting engine start, bay one,” I said, smooth as silk.
My helmet filled with a burst of static as flight control on the UNN Mustang squashed the other non-mission comms in the channel. “Valkyrie, you are cleared engine start. No one in front of you. Need you outbound using vector one-three. Safe flight.”
“Copy, vector one-three,” I confirmed. Another burst of static followed as flight control released the channel back to its previous state of chatter.
“Sticks yours, Rook,” Matrix said. “I’ll take over once we enter atmosphere.”
My hands moved instinctively, flipping switches and setting displays, the procedures drilled into my DNA. The magnetic clamps that held us down released and I pressed up on the throttle. The vessel shuddered at the power, eager to leave the safety of the hangar. I was happy to oblige.
“Valkyrie is skids up.”