Chapter 317 (1/2)
The hard light hologram was being projected from a sphere the size of a softball and took the appearance of a Terran Descent Human male all in silver and red, dressed in a business suit. It was standing next to a pair of Lanaktallan, one an adult male, the other an adolescent female. The three stood in front of an Imperial aerospace fighter. It had long wings, the back of them angles, the front two triangles that stuck out, the cockpit two balls welded together. It was sleek and lethal looking, all in black warsteel and chromed battlesteel. The cockpit had two different windows. The seat on the left was obviously built for a Terran and had the instruments and controls. The other one was a bench seat with a swivel mounted back rest, a modification to allow for a Lanaktallan passenger.
”This will be slightly scary at times,” the red Terran, known as Red Prince, said to the adult Lanaktallan. 'Just remember that Markus-3328A5 is an experienced pilot, all right, La'amo'o?”
The adult Lanaktallan nodded jerkily, his tendrils around his mouth curled protectively. He was dressed in a white suit that covered his abdomen and torso and legs and had a helmet in his hands. The suit had ”CIVILIAN” marked on the sides of his abdomen, on the front and back of the torso, and written on the white helmet above the amber face shield.
”Are you really going to do this, daddy?” the adolescent asked.
”Yes, Alma'ana,” the adult, La'amo'o said. He trembled slightly and Red Prince could tell it was a mixture of apprehension and excitement.
Another Terran came forward, dressed in all black body armor, a helmet concealing his face. He had on Imperial rankings and on his helmet was 3328A5. The Terran held out his hand and La'amo'o shook it, remembering the lessons on the Tri-Vee.
”I'm Flight Lieutenant Markus-3328A5, sir,” the Terran said.
”I am La'amo'o,” the Lanaktallan said.
”Moff Red Prince,” the red Terran said.
The black armored Terran saluted, then turned back to the Lanaktallan. ”We'll take it easy at first, no high-G maneuvering, just some basic flight,” he said. ”I'll want to check your pressure suit before we take off.”
”That would relieve my anxiety slightly,” La'amo'o said, still staring at the aerospace fighter. It looked almost eager to start flying to him and he had to keep reciting calming mantras to keep from shuffling in place and clacking his hooves with excitement.
The pilot checked La'amo'o's suit, making sure that it was correctly worn. He found a single cuff that wasn't tightened securely and merely re-tightened it himself. Once that was done he turned to the ship and motioned.
”Let's get in the air, shall we?” he asked.
La'amo'o nodded, watching as the pilot walked up to the back of the ship, opened a panel, and typed in a quick six digit code. He moved over to a heavy hose and motioned at La'amo'o.
”Do you want to help me disconnect it so we can get going?” Markus asked.
”Yes, please,” La'amo'o said.
La'amo'o said out loud what each cable and hose did, getting nods of approval from the pilot. When the wires and cables that held the ship in place were removed the pilot opened the back of the passenger side and La'amo'o rubbed all four hands together in excitement as the ramp lowered.
”Go ahead and get in, I'll strap you in, make sure your suit is hooked up, then I'll close you up before getting in,” the pilot said.
La'amo'o was excited as he straddled the bench and sat down. The heavily padded back rest swiveled into place and the arm rests lifted up. The pilot hooked him into the ship's systems, including the pressure suit he wore. Once that was done, the pilot helped him put on the helmet.
All kinds of information showed up when he put on the helmet. Speed, direction, fuel status, battle-screen status, armor status, structural integrity. He noticed the ammunition read zero and the weapons read --OFFLINE-- on his displays.
The text ”Welcome LA'AMO'O” floated up and he gripped the arm rests so he didn't rub his hands together.
After a moment the ship vibrated for a moment then steadied.
”All right, La'amo'o. Moff Prince said that you like these craft,” Markus said.
”Yes. I have built several scale models of them for therapy,” La'amo'o said honestly.
”Do you know the pre-flight checklist?” Markus asked.
”Yes,” La'amo'o was trembling with excitement.
”How about we go through it together?” Markus asked.
”I would like that very much, Flight Lieutenant Markus,” La'amo'o said.
Markus had La'amo'o call out the various things that had to be checked, from reactor level to pilot connection to the communications check and transponder beacon check.
Finally the little ship lifted off and La'amo'o almost swooned with delight. Markus angled it up at a forty-five degree angle, matching the green pips that made up the launch corridor markers.
La'amo'o was pushed back into the backrest by the take-off and gave a whinnying sound of happiness. Once they leveled off Markus took the ship through various manuevers. Spinning as it turned, tight loops, all kinds of exciting maneuvers that had La'amo'o squealing with joy.
”Are you OK, La'amo'o?” Markus asked as the ship idled along over thirty thousand meters up.
”Yes. This has been very exciting and very pleasing,” La'amo'o said.
”I've got authorization for a slow speed flyby on the Super-Star Destroyer Dominitus if you'd like. We can't get too close, about a kilometer out. We'll be in high orbit though, are you all right with that?” Markus asked.
”I would like that very much. It is an amazing offer,” La'amo'o said.
He was quiet, letting Markus concentrate, as the ship spiraled up until the blue of the sky was replaced by the black of space, with the stars needle bright and the moon crisp and clear. They flew for a while, slowly drawing closer to the huge wedge shaped ship.
It was massive. Breathtaking. Not at all ominous.
To La'amo'o, it represented justice, it stood for security, it was a physical totem that granted his daughter a life worth living.
It was the Empire itself.
He marveled at the multitude of guns, the huge fighter bays, the solid architecture. He could see maintenance workers on the hull, tiny speck-like figures doing upkeep on the massive war machine.