“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Keryn replied softly. Her tough demeanor transformed, revealing the younger girl that Keryn truly was. “I’m just trying to do my best.”
Yen stared at her, unsure if her new attitude was a ruse to make him feel sympathy or if she truly hid a more sensitive personality behind her strong, abrasive exterior. As they stared at each other — Yen wondering if she were acting and Keryn longing for understanding — Yen finally smiled and slipped an arm around her shoulder.
“I made a promise to your brother that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe. I may come across a little harsh at times, but everything I tell you will keep you alive in the long run.”
Keryn smiled, the confidence reasserting itself. “I’m not going to let you down.”
“We’ll see tomorrow,” Yen replied. “Get some sleep tonight, because tomorrow we’ll be pitting our pilots against another Alliance Squadron.”
Visibly relaxed as they walked, Keryn latched onto the new conversation, eager to help Yen forget about her moment of weakness. “Do you know who we drew to fly against?”
“We’re taking on the Defiant. Both their pilots and their Crewmen are tough, so even if we make it to their Cruiser, we’ll have a tough fight during the boarding.”
Keryn elbowed Yen hard in the ribs. “What do you mean if we make it? I’ll get you there. Whether or not you can manage to make it as far as the first hallway before getting your team slaughtered is a different story.”
Smiling broadly, Yen shoved Keryn playfully. “You talk a big game, little girl. We’ll see how well you do tomorrow.” He paused, realizing they had already reached Keryn’s room. “Get some good sleep tonight. I need you on your toes come tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Yen,” she said coyly over her shoulder as she slipped into her room. Yen waited a couple moments after the door had closed behind her. Shaking his head in amazement at the strange Wyndgaart woman, Yen turned and walked to his own room. He had teased her incessantly, but he knew that she was right. Even if she could get them to the Defiant, the harder job was boarding a ship full of volatile enemies.
Keryn entered the massive hangar amidst a buzz of activity. Pilots and crews moved with mechanical precision around their craft, checking hull integrity and weapon systems. The noise of the room — tires squealing on the smooth floor, the din of a hundred different conversations, the whir of machine guns running through practice fires — enveloped Keryn. She smiled softly, feeling at home amongst the droning sounds. This was the reason she became a pilot instead of going through the Ritual of Initiation as did so many of her race. Keryn found her peace and tranquility here, among the technology and ballet of space combat.
Across the room, Keryn caught sight of Yen as he performed the preflight check on the Cair Ilmun. The sleek gunmetal grey ship glistened in the stark lighting of the hangar bay. Its wings drooped heavily from the weight of the two missile launchers and pair of machine guns. Though the Cair ships were not intended to be direct combat fighters like the Duun ships, they carried an arsenal large enough to defend themselves if necessary. Keryn hurried over, knowing that much of the work Yen now did was actually her responsibility.
Yen looked up as she approached. “Good morning, sleepy head.”
Keryn rolled her eyes. “I’m not exactly late, you know.”
“If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late. And…”
“If you’re late, you’re wrong,” Keryn finished, having heard the same phrase repeated numerous times during her training at the Academy. “Why do I believe you could quote the textbook if asked?”
“Funny, but not far from the truth,” Yen joked. “Now get over here and help me out.”
Keryn joined Yen as he continued checking the hull integrity. In the void of space, even the most miniscule break in the armored plating would cause a deadly decompression. Keryn knew the importance of the check, but still paused as she ran an affectionate hand over the hull of the ship. Most of the Cair Ilmun’s hull was immaculate, having been tended with great care since being assigned to the Revolution. Still, along its side, Keryn could still see long scratches that had never been mended. Slipping to the side of the ship, she ran her fingers along the grooves.
“We thought about patching those up,” a gruff voice said from behind her, “but we think it’s important that every ship have a story to tell.”
Turning, Keryn came face to face with a muscular Pilgrim. His blond hair hung over his forehead and he smiled disarmingly as he leaned against the wall.
“Adam!” Keryn exclaimed, hurrying over to his side. “Yen told me you were around. I was wondering how long it would be before you showed up.”
Much as Yen had done for the months since the memorial service, Adam had written Keryn as well at her request, telling the few stories he had of her brother prior to his death. “Sorry, Keryn. We Infantry grunts don’t get a lot of chances to mingle with the right and proper Fleet people.”
Keryn caught him unaware as she punched him hard in the gut. “Right and proper? You take that back right now,” Keryn scolded while, simultaneously, smiling mischievously.
“Break it up, you two,” Yen called, stepping around the nose of the ship. “We have work to do here.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Adam muttered under his breath. Reaching down, he hoisted a heavy box full of equipment, supplies that the insurgent team would need once they breached the Defiant’s hull.
Keryn turned away from Adam and stepped over to Yen’s side. She quickly changed the subject. “How does the Cair Ilmun look? We ready to put her in the air?”
“She’s perfect,” Yen said, though his eyes were no longer on the ship. “I think she’ll do you proud.”
“I only hope I can return the favor.”
Yen heard voices behind him and turned as the rest of the Infantry soldiers approached the ship. Wearing their heavy body armor and carrying a full complement of weapons, all modified to fire nonlethal shots, the Infantry looked significantly deadlier than did Keryn, who wore only her piloting coveralls.
Whispering, so as not to be heard by the rough soldiers, Yen gave Keryn some advice. “Remember confidence. That should be your watchword while you’re flying. No matter how tough these guys are and how much they may intimidate you, you are still in charge of this ship. Never forget it.”
The insurgent team pulled up short, eyeing their new pilot. Though Yen’s words were still fresh in Keryn’s mind, their meaning seemed lost on her. She raised her hand in a sheepish wave. “Hi,” was all she managed to say.
The soldiers walked past her with barely a hint of recognition, climbing aboard the ship. Keryn cursed herself silently.
Hi?the Voice said condescendingly in her head. These are experienced soldiers and all you could manage was a weak hello? We are definitely going to have to work on that.
“Oh yes, that was the confidence I was referring to,” Yen added, echoing the Voice’s sentiments as he walked past her and climbed aboard.
Keryn frowned, feeling her own irritation. The Voice had been remarkably silent for so long; it was frustrating to hear it resurface. All Wyndgaarts were born with the Voice, a mental culmination of generations of fighting skills passed down genetically to each future warrior. When reaching maturity, it was commonly accepted that a Wyndgaart will merge with their Voice, thereby accessing all the contained memories of their ancestors. The merging, called Initiation, was what allowed skilled students to become the universe-renown Wyndgaart warriors. But, Keryn knew, that knowledge came with a price. With the merger came a loss of individual personality. Instead of the person you were, you became an overlapping personification of hundreds of your ancestors. Keryn had fought against the Voice, often ignoring it, so that she could follow her own path to the Fleet Academy. She was proud of her decision, but while the Voice seemed to find interest in building her confidence, it was also one of the biggest reasons she suffered from indecision. It was difficult to make a proper decision when your own mind was constantly contradicting you.