Fic: A pilot down

[valandhir]

Disclaimer: This is a private work of fiction, not intendet to infringe any copyrights. All rights to the characters and the concepts of  Star of the Guardians rest with their respective owners. I receive no money or other compensation.

This is an odd little piece set in Star of the Guardians verse. Translation of the song in the beginning is courtesy of a friend. 

 

 

Prologue – A pilot down

 

Unfall auf der Autobahn, die Wagen stehen still
Blaulicht, Polizei, Sirenen schrein,
ein Mann klopft an die Scheibe weil er mit mir fahren will,
ich sage: ‚Warum nicht’, und er steigt ein.
Er nennt keinen Namen, er sieht müde aus,

endlich geht es weiter, und er sagt: ‚Ich will nach Haus.’

Ich will ans Meer zurück.

 

Den Rest der Reise schweigt er, bei Hamburg steigt er aus,

der Himmel wird am Horizont schon rot,

am Morgen in der Zeitung, der Unfall, sein Gesicht;

Sie schreiben: ‚dieser Mann war sofort tot.’

Er war ohne Namen, er sah müde aus,

ich hör noch wie er sagte: ‚Bald bin ich zu Haus’

Ich will ans Meer zurück.

 

Crash on the motorway and everything stands still,

Flashlight and Police and sirens scream,

A man comes up to my car, and ride along he will,

I just said ‘why not’ and let him in.

Without a name he came, just looking tired on,

Until we move at last and he says: “I just want home.”

Back to the sea again.

 

He did not speak again, at Hamburg he just left,

Just as the eastern sky turned bloody red,

His face on morning news, an accident he head,

‘He was dead at once’ it’s all the headline said.

Without a name he was, just looking tired on,

I still hear him say: ‘Soon I am home’

Back to the sea again.

 

(Juliane Werding: Ich will ans Meer zurück)

 

More than a dozen systems were screaming their alert at once, combining into a cacophony of distress. The plane had been thrown out of the lane and was apparently lost in the middle of a jump. So many systems were right now out of control, that shipboard computer had quit reporting them. Not that it had been of any use. His pilot, Captain Césare Antares was not listening to any helpful hint, that the computer was prepared to offer, and so the machine had retreated into a silent, electronical dignity. 

 

Césare had no time or concentration left for his hurt shipboard computer. He had three screens full of readouts telling him hundreds of things about the plane, the speed and other things all at once. His hands, that once had gently rested on the helm, were now clenched on the instruments. His comlink was activated. “Brian, talk to me,” Césare whispered, while trying to avoid what looked seriously like a planetary mass, coming rapidly near. There was no answer, there had been none for at least 30 minutes and Césare knew what this meant. His partner had died, the moment part of the jump - engines had been exploding, but Césare was not ready to accept this fact just now. “I’ll think I can get us out of that jump and down planetside,” he whispered, hoping his partner was just knocked out, injured, but somehow hearing that Césare was getting him out of this mess.

 

Another fast glance over the screens, the readouts, the rear of the plane was burning, the engines falling apart rapidly. The sleek fighter they flew looked from the outside like a katana – fighter that had been wrestling with a bloodspear and lost the match. The prototype fighter was basically a modified katana crammed up with heaps of bloodspeartechnology and other stuff from the files of late Warlord Derek Sagan, which made it the most dangerous plane right now. Dangerous for anyone trying to pilot it. Césare saw the equations again, they did not add up and never would again. “Ready to get out of the jump, prepare for a rough manoeuvre, Brian.”

 

It was more then rough, even Césare, pilot for the best part of nine years, came close to vomit. The plane fell down towards the planet like a fireball. Every attempt of Césare to soften the touchdown was met, by another series of malfunction and merciless gravity pulls. He did his best, but this time his best was hardly sufficient, the Dai-Katana crashed on the surface of the unknown planet. The brutal impact erased Césare’s consciousness.

 

He did not know how long he had blanked out in the aftermath of the crash. But it was the roaring of the flames that woke him. Césare jumped from what remained of the pilot’s chair and ran over to the gunner’s tower. He had to get Brian out of here, at once. But when he reached the ladder of the gunner’s tower, he realised it was too late. The bloodstained mass, all what was left of his friend, was likely to haunt him for the rest of his life. Suppressing the pain that was rising from his equally battered body, Césare hurried back to the cockpit, his hands ran over the instruments. Even as the fire drew nearer, his best friend was killed, and he himself injured beyond what he knew now, he worked calmly. A disk slid out of the system, before the complete erasing of data began.

 

Jumping outside the wrecked plane, Césare was glad to have the breathermask. The place looked barren, uninhabited and inhospitable but still better than an exploding plane. He tried to run, to escape the fiery destruction behind him, but his injured body was not able to take much more. Coughing, stumbling, biting back a pain that had any chance to make him scream, Césare fought his way uphill. Letting himself slide down on the other side, rolling downhill, and after same pained crashes on the rocks, knowing a barrier between himself and the death of his plane. He slowly keyed his comlink for a last time, he knew the message would run for a long time before being picked up, but it would provide data for those who would inevitable search for him. “This is Captain… Captain Antares, I am downed on an unknown planet, by the approximate coordinates of….”, he remembered the numbers, hoping he had not garbled them. “My plane was destroyed, but all relevant data was saved…”, knowing he final duty done, Césare let himself slip into the comforting darkness, where there was no pain.

 

It was pain that woke him. Blinking he tried to make out why he awoke. It was too cold to be hell and far to painful for heaven so this had to be still life. A dark figure was beside him, someone, hidden beneath a kind of robe. “Blessed be the Lord, you are alive. No…no, don’t move, you were horribly injured,” Césare did not understand really, but he cared not, sliding back into darkness.

 

***

 

Archbishop Fideles was standing outside the monasteries infirmary, waiting patiently for Brother Francis to come out. As the old monk eventually approached, he could read the bad news in the downcast eyes and sad expression as well. “How is he, Brother Francis?”

 

The elderly monk shook sadly his head, looking at the younger Archbishop. “There is not much we can do for him, actually. The internal injuries are far too severe, being flooded with Tacheyonparticles as he is, his internal organs are going to fail him soon, only a miracle could save him, else he will not last the night,” a silent sigh accompanied these words. Brother Francis was a man of steady faith, having been a healer for all his life, he mourned every loss of it deeply. “Your Holiness, the young man is awake since a little more than an hour. We gave him painkillers, to ease his suffering. He is a man of the faith, yet he denied deathbed confession. I…,” he faltered. “I was not strong enough to convince him.”

 

Fideles knew well how Brother Francis was feeling. He himself had felt the same, serving as a male nurse onboard Phoenix. “I will speak to him,” he reassured Brother Francis.

 

Upon entering the small medical ward, he hesitated for the tiniest moment. The young pilot was lying on the bed, relaxed by the influence of heavy painkillers, but hearing someone approach, he turned his head towards the door. His face was lean, a little edged but still handsome, dark of hair and eye, he was yet no thirty years old. “Your holiness… I should say it is an honour to meet you,” his speaking was laboured, but clear.

 

Archbishop Fideles sat down beside the bed. “Brother Francis told me, that you do not wish to confess for a last time. Are you aware that you will die tonight?” he asked softly. It seemed such a waste for such a young man to die even as Brother Fideles trusted the creator had his reasons to call upon this particular son so early.

 

The young pilot smiled a little. “Archbishop, we are of the same faith, but… of different ways. I do not believe that any person, no matter who, can intervene with god on my behalf. My sins, my doing and letting do, is something I alone can argue with Him, and when he calls upon me tonight, I will do so. I will stand to be judged, and I trust that He’ll understand… perhaps better than I do myself.”

 

Fideles hesitated a moment or two. He had not known for sure that protestant faith had survived the purges of the Republic, but it had done so, evidently. “I am sure He will,” he replied. “Can we do something for you? Inform your family? Someone else?”

 

“My family is dead, there is no one to inform.” The speech of the young man seemed to come easier now. “In my flightsuit, there were two data disks.” He saw the small gesture of Fideles, both disks rested on the bedside table. The young man nodded. “The black one is of military content and needs to be send to fleet headquarters. The data is rather… sensitive, if you have the power to forward it to the Admiralty, it will be taken care of. The other one… just contains a picture of my father. Be so kind and bury it with me. He met his fate on some unknown place in the Corasian Galaxy, and this picture will reunite us in some way.”

 

Slowly, Fideles looked at the picture, stored on the disk. It nearly made him stop breathing. It was a plain picture of an armoured man, standing guard. Just that he knew this man, but had never known he had a son. “Is this… your father?” he asked slowly.

 

“He is. That’s what he looked like later, in his last days, I assume. A friend gave it to me, he served on that ship.”

 

“The Phoenix.”, Fideles observed. “But, if you… I did not think that they were married before they…” He tried to sort out his thoughts. “I did not think they were allowed family.”

 

“They weren’t. They gave them up, when Sagan offered them a position among his guard. Families were notified of their demise. His Lordship took good care of the families of all people that fell under his command, but this… was special. Even if you did not know what had happened, you felt it somehow. We were taken good care off, would have guessed had we not known. Father…, I was about seven, when he came home one night, and told us he had been approached for some very special assignment. No details, nothing at all. He asked me back then if I… was willing to give him up, for something greater and more important. And I promised him, never to bear any grudge towards the man who took my father,” Fideles presence seemed to have drawn out all those words from the young man. He realised that he had told more than he had intended to.

 

Fideles genuinely understood the young man. Being asked to sacrifice something very much loved for a greater cause, was nothing completely foreign for him. “It was a very brave decision to make,” he pointed out. “and… I’ll take care of transmitting the other disk to the Lord Admiral.” He slowly rose. “You won’t be alone until… until it is over.”

 

His words had been meant reassuring, comforting, strangely the young man smiled. “I am pilot, your highness, I am always alone.”

 

Archbishop Fidelis left the infirmary, still a little shaken. He did not believe that this was an accident. He was sure of it. But still he hesitated to act accordingly. He might place a burden too great on already laden shoulders. Eventually he turned to Brother Jeremiah. “Please find Brother Paenites for me.” The young Brother looked puzzled, sure the lay brother was often doing hard duties, taking care of the sick at night, but hardly in such a case. But still he hurried to obey.

 

When the dark lay brother entered the infirmary, a new set of doubts crept up in Fidelis mind. Was this the right thing to do? But he was already too far to turn right now, seeing the questioning glance of the lay brother. “The pilot who crashed outside yesterday is in there,” he explained softly. “he won’t last another night, having suffered too severe injuries,” even the most modern hospital in the galaxy would have trouble saving him. “I want you to watch over him tonight.” The lay brother did not say anything, but Fidelis knew, he rarely did.

***

 

Césare felt not much pain right now. Lying on that bed, in the small dark room, he contemplated death for some time. He did not fear it actually. Surely there were things in his life he wished he had finished, but he had to trust that other would pick things up where he had left. Death was no foreign comrade for him, he had volunteered for the galactic forces at the age of 16, being a natural at piloting he had started early on his career. For one glorious hour he had been on the same ship with his father and for some time even hoped to follow his footsteps. Dreams ended, dreams crashed…

 

A noise made him turn his head towards the door again. Another monk had entered silently. “I will take care of you, for the night,” he said in a dark, deep voice. “If you need anything…”

 

“No, I am fine, right now,” replied Césare. This was a strange thing to say, but in weird way was right. He did not want more painkillers, and felt just a little pain in his chest, when breathing too hard. “Excuse me for asking… but what’s your name?”

 

“I am Brother Paenites.” Was the short reply.

 

“Césare Antares.”

 

“Antares?”

 

“It’s hard to pronounce, I know. Just call me Césare.” Somehow he felt some dark eyes, scanning him from under the hood.

 

For some time no one said anything, then the laybrother nodded, an odd gesture with the hood up. He retreated some steps, turning down the light of the small room. Césare wanted to protest, but he saw a small flickering light, rise up. The Brother had lightened a candle. A second followed, until seven white candles filled the tiny room with their warm light. The pilot smiled. It was rather oldfashioned, but somehow soothing and beautiful. A cathedral of light. A good place to pass out. “Thanks,” he said.

 

The Brother silently set down on the stool beside the bed. “What happened to you?” he asked in low tones.

 

Césare cast him a strange glance. “I crashed in a plane. A prototype. My partner… he died before we hit ground. He was mutilated, horribly smashed. Why do you ask?”

 

A strong, yet scarred hand, for a moment rested on Césares arm. A friendly gesture, warm, comforting. “I thought you might prefer talking to waiting.” The Laybrother replied. “But then, if you prefer silence. It was your father’s way also.”

 

Césares eyes flared as a pain welled up in his chest. “You.. you knew my father?” he asked. “How? Did you serve on board Phoenix too?”

 

“In a way. I knew him, not as well as you might think. I met him often, most on duty, but knew not much of him personally.”

 

Césare did not catch the strange tone in witch the words were said. “If.. if it is not too much to ask. Can you tell me about him?” his voice grew a little husky. “It may be just routine stuff for you… but it’s a treasure to me. When I last saw him I was seven.”

 

“He was a very focused character, not many words, but action. He did things, and did them efficiently and well without saying much. He was a good leader of men and very brave. Whatever danger came his way, he faced it, even when he was hopeless outnumbered, he would not give in. That was his way… to the very end.”

 

Césare swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. “I.. I have always tried to find out something about his death. He was reported AWOL, and later dead. It’s still on record that he died while abandoning his duties,” his eyes became fixed on the monk. “Perhaps it is wishful thinking, but I can’t believe that he abandoned his duty. This duty had meant too much for him, more than even…,” no, he did not say it. But the silent ‘more than mother and me’, still hung in the air. “He would not have given up on it.”

 

Again the dark eyes seemed to scan him again, deeply. “He did not.” Was the dark answer. “He stuck to his duties to the last moment. When he went AWOL it was, because his duty commanded it and remaining true to the oath he had given his Lord, he died. He died, a gun in his hand, fighting to the very last breath, even as this opponent was so far beyond him.”

 

Something warm crept up inside Césare. Somehow he felt that this man here understood. That he understood his father, more than perhaps everyone else. And he knew these words to be true. His father had died a valorous death, a warriors death, a path that Césare was to follow all too soon. ‘I think it is right.’ He thought calmly. ‘Perhaps he is even waiting on the other side.’ His smile deepened. “I wanted to thank you Brother Paenites. What you said about my father means much to me. I always hoped to find some proof that he had not abandoned his duty, to clear his name. But know I see, that knowing he did the right thing, is enough. Thank you so much.”

 

The monk nodded. “Tell me, why did you give him up? To this kind of service I mean? Or how did you know who he was, after his name was changed?”

 

Césare took a deep breath, a grave mistake, for the pain erupted in his chest, making him cough. He felt the Brother’s grip, supporting him gently. After a while he leaned back on the second cushion, the Brother had stuffed in his back. “Thanks. How did we know? Well there had been this talk before he left, for the last time. Shortly after we were notified of his demise. Lord Sagan always took care of the families of his fallen soldiers, but we were special somehow. They removed us to another planet, were mother got a job miraculously, and schooling and everything was well. We met another family there, same story, and somehow we guessed it. I realised it when I was fourteen, seeing a vid. I recognised my father that day. It was the day I decided I wanted to become a pilot.”

 

“Why did you?”

 

“I wanted to follow him. I learned lots, math, physic, astronomical stuff. School was good and if you were set on learning, they helped you along a lot. The day I turned sixteen I volunteered for the forces. First I thought they’d turn me down, but then they had me run some simple test run on a simulator. Afterwards they were keen on keeping me. That’s how it went, drive yourself just hard enough and you can make everything go. I just hoped… if I got good enough, really good I mean, bloody good, real high level flying, then perhaps one day, I might end up a Centurion too, perhaps even serving under my father’s command. We’d not break rules, nor would I ever tell him, but we’d be together and that would be enough.” Césare shook his head. “It was foolish perhaps, but it made me the man I am today.”

 

“Would you try to clear your father’s name, if you could?”

 

“Surely. But it’s not going to happen. Perhaps in the end, it doesn’t really matter. Those person for whom it mattered: his Lord and himself, are dead and they know how things were. Everyone else is just a bystander.” He sighted. “I hope the others, the other families, go on by themselves, and perhaps they’ll their loved ones again one day. Even if Starfire – I – am – the – prince is a stubborn man.”

 

An eyebrow arched in the darkness. “What was this? I thought you accepted, what happened?”

 

“Yes, I did, we did. We gave them up to the service of Lord Sagan. You might think us mad, but somehow we believed in him. That’s not the same for King Starfire. He inherited them somehow, but if he inherited our trust, of this I am not sure.”

 

A long silence followed. A very long silence. “It would be a great task, reuniting the families without breaking trust and loyalty to King Starfire.” The Brother seemed to be thinking aloud.

 

“Right you are. That would be something really difficult, especially if there was a real obligation of loyalty to Starfire.” Césare had rarely spoken or thought so clearly about all these things. He was not very fond of King Starfire, even as he was not fond of the late democracy.

 

“I think this would be exactly your task.”

 

Césare tried to sit up, it did not really work, pain erupting in his body. “Brother, no disrespect intended, but what can I do, in those hours that remain to me? You gave me much to think about, and even more comfort, telling me of my father. But I am, right now, in no shape to do any tasks.”

 

The monk made him lie down again. His hand resting on Césares shoulder. “There is something I did not tell you about your father. The young King did win his respect during that last months. He really did, and I think your father, even as his first loyalty was to his Lord, would have laid down his life for Dion too.”

 

The words sounded strange to Césare. But then, perhaps, it was true. Perhaps, it was all true. His mind started drifting a little. “Perhaps you are right, and I was wrong,” he whispered.

 

“I can’t tell you much more of your father, but I can show you. Just walk along.” He heard a voice from afar. Césare wanted to point out, that he was in no shape to walk, but somehow he had no trouble to follow this voice. A voice that carried him back to Phoenix and to his father….

 

***

 

“I can’t say any more, than I just did, Lord Admiral,” Brother Fidelis chastised himself for this, for it was not entirely true.

 

John Dixter leaned forward on his desk, staring into the vidcom. “Last night, you send a message that our pilot was dying. What you said about his injuries made very clear, that he should have died hours before. And now you are telling me, he recovered somehow?”

 

“You could call it a miracle, and thank the creator that he sheltered this young man in his hand.” The Archbishop pointed out. “Perhaps he still needs this young warrior in this world.”

 

Dixter came close to giving a snort. “Brother Daniel, you served once as a male nurse and should know how pretty unlikely medical miracles are. I fairly not believe in them.”

 

“But I do, Lord Admiral;” replied Fidelis. “And I can’t offer any other explanation. I just can tell you that a ship of the order will bring Césare Antares back to your fold as soon as he is fit to travel again.”

 

In far Minas Tares the Admiral shook his head. “I don’t believe in miracles, but in people who make them come to pass.” He murmured. “But still, our pilot is alive, and that is good news.”

 

To be continued