A shudder went through my Starfighter, signaling a short moment of recalibration as the Merathron convinced reality to look away for a moment. Transferring from hyperspace to real-space was an interesting process, effectively opening a hole into the fabric of spacetime, slipping through it before it repaired itself. There, outside of space and time, as some called it, the laws of physics that normally governed reality were different, allowing things that were impossible elsewhere. For example, travel a distance of a couple of lightyears within a few hours. If one were to look at our speed from an outside perspective, we were moving at some 2.200 times the speed of light, something normally utterly ludicrous.

Knowing that we were back in real-space, I used my Starfighter’s computer to observe the data-stream coming from the bridge, curious if this time, we would be deployed. So far, the cruise had been educational, thanks to the effort put in by my squad-mates but other than the time spent in the simulator, giving me a master-class in Starfighter-tactics, nothing had happened over the last two weeks. We had jumped through a couple of systems, querying observation-satellites, showing flag to the merchants, miners and couriers out there but otherwise it had been boring.

Maybe what I saw in the data from the bridge would change that, there was something highlighted that made no sense to me and the fact that it was highlighted designated that it meant something to those on the bridge. Before I could check deeper, trying to figure out more, the communication-unit of my Starfighter lit up and I heard the slightly familiar voice of Captain Burris, Master of the Merathorn. I had heard it before, on official announcements and recorded messages for the crew, but had never talked to him.

“Commodore Ryker, we have an intermittent contact a light-minute out. I need you to go out there and find out what is going on.” the Captain Burris ordered and the query for readiness appeared in my system. After a quick check, I confirmed that I was ready to be launched, just as I saw the lights for the rest of the third wing of Carmine-Squadron light up as well.

Even just a light-minute meant that we would be flying for a few hours, unless it was decided to ignore the rated speed of five percent of the speed of light and simply accelerate half the distance before slowing down the rest of the way. It would be reckless and wholly unsafe, but it would get us there in an hour instead of the almost three and a half-hours it would take us at safe speeds. With the intermittent nature of the contact, we might have to check a large area, but we would have to see.

The Merathorn would be able to get there faster, simply due to its higher rated top-speed but the Captain seemed to be hesitant to risk his ship if the contact turned out to be hostile. The Merathorn would be behind us, most likely a few ten-thousand kilometers, ready to support us either by launching additional fighters or with her own, quite impressive weapons.

While taking a micro-jump into hyperspace would be possible, distances below three light-minutes made precision-jumping a thing of luck. We might end up further away from the contact than we currently were, with the hyperspace-coils needing time to cool.

Before I had time to consider the events further, the warning-chime went off and I knew that I would be launched in five seconds. Taking a deep breath, I wiggled a little, making myself comfortable before the magnetic rails around my fighter gave me the initial push into space. The rest of wing three were nearby and we quickly fell into a now familiar formation, with me flying at the wing of Manta.

“The Merathorn’s readings are rather strange, we don’t have a good vector, so we’ll have to either hope that she gets more returns while we are on the way, or we’ll have to search.” Wildcat announced, after looking over the data we had received from the bridge.

“I agree. We’ll stay in pairs, no matter what. Twitch, you take the lead, I have your wing.” Manta added, reducing his acceleration a bit, allowing me to overtake his Starfighter after I quickly acknowledged the order. Somehow, knowing that he had my back was giving me a confidence-boost, despite, or maybe because, what I had learned over the last two weeks. I had spent hours upon hours in the simulator, time in which I had been relentlessly drilled, flying a variety of simulated missions, partnering with each pilot of Carmine Wing three or four at times. And he had given me advice and help every day, taking hours of time he could have spent however he wanted and used that time to train me. I was the best pilot I had ever been but I also knew that he was still better.

It took us a little under five minutes to reach our rated speed, thanks to the launch from the Merathorn and once we were at speed, the waiting began. It was the hardest part of flying, at least for me, I needed something to keep my mind occupied or I was getting twitchy and staring at my sensors, keeping an eye out for a random rock with my name on it wasn’t quite what I had in mind. Still, just because it was unlikely that there was one such rock didn’t mean that it was impossible, so I kept a close eye on the sensors while the rest of my mind occupied with more hyperspace-mechanics. I had neglected my studies a little, focusing on training with the squad, socialising with the other cadets that were working during the night-shift and sleeping.

As time passed, the plot from the Merathorn turned more clear and more confusing at the same time. There were now four possible returns, each with a different vector and none of them more than a ghost on their sensors. Each might just be some sensor-glitch or they could all be hostile Spacecrafts, albeit relatively small ones, maybe eight times the volume of my Starfighter at most. We would know once we got closer.

“Twitch, we will go towards contacts 2 and 4, they appear to be on similar vectors from the primary. Wildcat, you and Wolverine head towards contact 1 and once we have checked those, we’ll rendezvous near contact 3.” Manta ordered when we were at range to start decelerating, some four minutes and one-and-a-half million kilometers away from the contacts. I felt the acceleration push me into my harness, despite the inertial dampening taking some 99.9% of the actual acceleration out of the picture.

We were still two minutes away from our first potential contact when Wildcat spoke over the squadron-channel. “We have contact 1 on our sensors. Give me a moment to get a better image.”

“Affirmative.” I replied, echoed by Manta. At the same time, I gave my fighter a slight nudge, making sure that if necessary, I would be able to punch it into their direction within a split-second. We still would need almost a minute to get to them, but it was a lot faster than the eight minutes the Merathorn would need.

“We can eliminate contact 1.” Wildcat announced, while sending the data gathered. Looking at the readings and running them through my own computer, just in case there had been a glitch on her end, confirmed her assessment. It was a rock, apparently rich in heavy metal on one side, slowly tumbling through space. The radiation given off by the heavy metal that was exposed had been the cause for the strange reading on our sensors.

Still, there were three more potential contacts and I would reach contact 2 soon. Mentally pushing away the slight disappointment I felt about hunting down a rock, I fully focused on my computer, letting my sensors gather as much data as they could grab. There were a few returns, none clear or distinct enough to resolve into one of the contact but I was getting closer.

“Break!” I suddenly heard Manta order, causing me to react by reflex, conditioned in dozens of hours of simulator-training over the last few days. The engine of my Starfighter, moments before slowly reducing the speed of it was kicked into full power, the acceleration pushed to the limit as I kicked my Raptor sideways, using the thrusters on the wing-tips to cause it to spin aside, giving me an irregular silhouette and even more acceleration. I felt as if I was sitting in a centrifuge, the inertial dampening not enough to keep me from getting thrown around but somehow, I managed to get my sensors focused on the direction the contacts had been in.

There was something, my sensors were gathering information when suddenly the readings spiked and my visual sensors were lit up by the distinct flare of an object jumping into hyperspace.

“What was that?!” I gasped, still not certain what had just happened and a little confused.

“Captain Burris, I respectfully suggest going to general quarters and launching the rest of Carmine Squadron. Carmine 17 and I were just subject to enemy attack.” he paused for a split-second, switching to our group-channel, “Twitch, I take the lead. Wildcat, Wolverine, gather at our position as soon as possible, we are in bandit-country.” he ordered and I quickly fell into wing-position, my sensors still lighting up the void around us, my mind going hundreds of kilometers each second.