“Fighter pilot is an attitude. It is cockiness. It is aggressiveness. It is self-confidence. It is a streak of rebelliousness, and it is competitiveness. But there’s something else – there’s a spark. There’s a desire to be good. To do well; in the eyes of your peers, and in your own mind.”

Brigadier General Robin Olds. (1973)

‘Nails’ took it to the Red – Line and beyond.

Apparent – gravity is an important constant in space and (arguably) nowhere else Moreso that when it is directly applied to the frenetic and kinetic fast – moving, deadly environment where starfighter combat is prosecuted, where lives hang in the balance and where Wars are lost or won.

Mathematically the relationship of this correlation can be neatly condensed to the expression of force (per unit mass) due to gravity and the centrifugal force applied. Math is great like that.

You can take tremendous fundamental forces of the Universe and condense them down to primitive equations that even a mud – bound troglodyte could conceivably grasp, given enough tutoring. Math encompasses including or covering all or a whole collectively or distributivity without limit or exception.

It’s why it’s called a “Universal” …

So, Math, in it’s neat and tidy proposition of logic tells us that, what Lieutenant Nylah Burke (Callsign – “Nails”) was currently experiencing (in its most finite expression) as she gunned her Valkyrie – fighter through the tumbling chaos of The Belt, is this:

G* = g – Ω X (Ω x r),

Life, of course, never comes so neatly wrapped in a bow.

Space, as we know, is observably vast and empty (the eye is so easily fooled), inhabited by the lack of atmosphere where dominated by vacuum (negating the need for pesky aerodynamics) and totally defined by the compelling forces of Gravity. Whilst the sensation of ‘weightlessness’ is novel, it is also a misnomer – bordering on an outright lie.

Weightlessness is a sensation experienced by an individual where there are no external objects touching one’s body. In other words, the sensation of weightlessness exists when all contact forces are removed.

For the leader of the VA – 507^th “Wildcards” Squadron, the force of Apparent – Gravity was as compelling as a giant hand pressing down on her chest and lungs (despite the best efforts of her pressurized flight – suit to counter the discomfort) and a more than urgent concern as the wayward bulk of the large asteroid, slowly spinning, dominated almost the entire forward viewscreen of the tiny, cramped cockpit of her hurtling Starfleet Starfighter.

“They’re still on your Six, Wildcard Leader!” Came the urgent voice of her Wingman, John “Ploughman” Furrow – flying ‘Wildcard – 2’, over the comm – channel.

As if to re-enforce the warning, twin searing lines of purple energy punctuated the space immediately between her canopy and port and starboard impulse intakes, as the pursuing Vaadwaur Pythus – class fighter – pilot sought every tool in his box to make this Nylah’s final, last moments in this galaxy.

“Yeah – I’m getting that…” She grimaced to herself as she fought the controls.

At breakneck speeds the pursued and pursuer tore through the intervening space towards the looming mass of rock and exotic minerals of the asteroid, annihilation mere fractions of a second away now.

“You’re gonna impact!” ‘Ploughman’s’ voice clamored for her attention (which was already overtasked beyond reasonable limits) “Break! Break! Break!”

The Heads-Up-Display, only centimeters in front of her eyes, intermittently fogged up from the labored grunts of her lungs forcing air out under the relentless crush of gravity that her acceleration persisted upon her body, streams of information urging the same, as Vectors scrolled and distances execrably rolled down to zero – point of impact.

“Not yet…” Burke managed through grinding gritted teeth, her voice sounding both strained and compressed as her hands remained sure on the throttle and yoke.

=^= Proximity Alert! Pull up!!=^= The crafts small – minded onboard flight – computer joined in the admonishment, the stick shaker activating, urging under her hand – adding even more vibration to the oscillating spaceframe – like putting a spear – tip on the end of a Quantum – torpedo. =^= Proximity Alert! Pull Up! =^=

Nyla’s vision began to darken at the edges, the negative G – Forces that her body was exposed to pushing the blood flow away from the lower parts of her body towards her head. The constriction of her suit around her chest feeling like a snake was slowly crushing her ribs – desperately trying to ward off the debilitating effects of retinal damage and hemorrhagic stroke.

On her present course, Burke would be unconscious when she splattered all over the rock.

She felt lightheadedness that heralded Pre – syncope and Ploughman’s urgings now sounded like a tinny echo, as heard down a tunneling corridor with the background roar of perpetual thunder sounding in her inner ears.

“Not ……yet….!”

The readings strobing across the HUD were unreadable now, as her visual field narrowed to the point of oblivion.

Only the rock remained, everywhere now.

“NOW!”

The pilot hauled back on the yoke at the last possible moment, her hand still jamming the throttle hard forward – at the same time her thumb pickled one of the control studs on the side of the control column and activated the Gravtic – actuators that the Valkyrie would normally deploy during landing – operations (in typically more peaceable surroundings) – the modern-day equivalent of dropping an aircraft’s undercarriage.

At the same time, she triggered the rearward ECM pod and the countermeasure’s launch disgorged a necklace of bright, incandescent anti torpedo decoys that flared like miniature suns and served to blind the onrushing Vaadwaur plot completely.

The Valkyrie bucked and shuddered, servos whined, overload alerts klaxoned in protest and the forces of Apparent – gravity increased to a beyond – bearable degree and Nylah felt some of her ribs crack and was pretty sure that she would be resorting to a belly – landing (if she ever made it back to the USS Hikaru Sulu and IF the ship was still standing) as the Gravtic – actuators blew out with a withering shudder.

The ruse did the trick.

A stream of jagged rock strobed past the underbelly of the Valkyrie and the extra inertia provided by the Gravtic – actuators provided the vital extra fraction of Centrifugal force necessary to counter her craft’s inertia & mass and pull the fighter into a screaming upward parabolic arc as it “climbed” up the rushing face of the Asteroid and her feet kicked at the control pedals in their recesses and the ship performed a sharp – half turn through its rotational access.

Just in time to see the Vaadwaur fighter, it’s pilot still desperately trying to clear his stunned vision, attempt to replicate her punishing ascent and failing utterly.

Impacting and exploding upon the face of the asteroid win a silent, frozen conflagration of death.

“YEEHAA!! Splash – one !!!” Her Wingman’s jubilant voice could be heard, as Nylah’s hearing returned – the spin sending the blood rushing gratefully down into her legs.

Some pilots get their “Callsigns” due to some infraction or embarrassing turn of events. Some are thus named because some parts of their given name or surname sound like something obscene, associative or rhyming. The thing about callsigns is that you seldom get to choose your own, invariably they are thrust upon you like an unwelcome mantle that you will be forced to wear and endure with a smile for the rest of your days.

And sometimes, just sometimes, these monikers are bequeathed upon you, because something in your nature is so apt that it just doesn’t make any sense to call you anything else.

That was why Lieutenant Nylah Burke, Squadron Leader of the Starfighter contingent consigned to duty aboard the USS Hikaru Sulu, had been named “Nails” by her peers.

When it came to her uncompromising attitude towards piloting and fighting – there was no one harder.

Nylah shook her head and blew hard out through her nose to try to lessen the distracting euphoria of High – G Maneuvering and noted that ‘Wildcard – 2’ was even now, merging with her and resuming his position on her Starboard wing.

Instinctively she keyed up the Realtime force – disposition infographic to her faceplate HUD and consulted the glimmering hologram to re-orientate and situate herself and her flight – that she had lost in the last flashing few seconds that it had taken to shake – off her pursuer and seal his doom.

All throughout the cloistered, claustrophobic – confines of The Belt, battle was being joined and the chaos of forces in disarray was marked by frantic struggle, flashing discharges of weapons fire, the silent chrysanthemum – bloom of devastating explosions sounding soundlessly in the cold vacuum of space and suicidal hurtling of smaller craft against the backdrop of behemoths that tentatively threated the every shifting sea of rock that permeated the perimeter of the battle within the asteroids of the belt.

It was a scene seemingly populated from the infernal depths of hell itself.

Coming from a long – lineage of ‘Stick – Jockeys”, down through the ages, there was nowhere else Lieutenant Nylah Burke would rather be.

The hallmark of a good fighter pilot was the ability to make quick and accurate decisions under pressure, the mental resilience to deal with difficult decisions and loss. Physically fit and mentally tact, the squadron messes and briefing rooms were full of plenty of flyboys & flygirls that demonstrated the requisite aggression, confidence and fighting spirit that it took to climb into the cockpit and hurl themselves into space in little more that a mobile – platform designed by the lowest bidder to bring weapons to bear on the enemy.

The ships mortuary was full of those same types too, in any given engagement.

What set Nylah Burke (and her forebears) aside from the crowd was an abiding sense of patience and self-awareness, being a risk – taker came with the territory of high – speed combat engagement, but of more importance was possessing a singular persistence. The truly great fighter pilot never accepts the word ‘Can’t’ and never seems to quit.

Certainly, there are times when being opportunistic was the flavor of the day (never pass up the chance to take a shot), but it was essential for survival that a fighter pilot possess exceptional self – control (know when the moment has gone and move on to the next problem) and be highly motivated.

Lieutenant Nylah Burke was such a pilot.

“Flight Actual.” “Nails” opened a comm – channel to the USS Hikaru Sulu and the Chief Flight Control Officer, where Lt Silou directed the fighter and smallcraft engagements like a virtuoso – conductor, from the ‘Battle – Bridge.’ “This is Wildcard Leader.”

Nylah banked her fighter, hugging another asteroid as she and “Ploughman” weaved between the tumbling rock (narrowly avoiding another pair of Valkyries that flashed across her nose, speeding past in pursuit of another brace of Vaadwaur Pythus – Class fighters) and inverted so that ‘down’ became ‘up’ and she could mark the course and progress of the secondary hull – as half of the massive Odyssey – class vessel pursued its own desperate engagement against a trio of pursuing Vaadwaur Manasa-class Assault Escorts – her expansive regenerative shields shimmering & dopplering under the combined assault of their fire.

She couldn’t see the ‘Chevron’ section of the ship, although her instruments told her it was on the other side of The Belt – the USS Hikaru Sulu having taunted the invading Vaadwaur forces to pursue them after they entered the system, committing their forces to divide and pursue the Starfleet ship as it, itself, separated into two different elements – so as to split the enemy forces and forced them to disperse in pursuit.

Somehow, no matter how many times as she saw it, Nylah could just never get used to seeing the ship split in – two. Deep down, seeing your home come apart (no matter how intentional the act) seemed to sit uncomfortably for her – some deep superstition that seemed to think the separation portended some more prophetic disaster?.

“Flight – Actual here – go ahead Wildcard Leader.” Came Lt Silou’s calm, unhurried reply.

“Doing steady trade. Looking for more customers.” Burke reported as the pair re- formed up with the other members of her flight, Ensign Aseela “Goodnight” Tupan in ‘Wildcard – 3” and her own wingman Ensign Christian “Bingo” Eichinger riding drag in ‘Wildcard – 4”. The remaining 8 pilots of VA-507 were similarly divided into two more ‘Flights” of 4 Valkyries – both led by Junior Lieutenants.

Nylah often thought that all fighter pilots were young, not only because the life expectancy for combat – duty was so depressingly low, but rather than if they lived long enough to grow a shred of common – sense – then no one in their right minds would want to do the job.

“Do you have a vector for me, Flight?” the Squadron Leader’s head was constantly ‘on the swivel’, constantly checking the immediate volume of space and keeping half an eye on the tactical sensor – feed that fed to her helmet.

“Affirmative, Wildcard Leader.” Came the controller’s direction. “Break off engagement and vector to grid alpha, five niner and prep the volume for rally. We are T – Minus 47 seconds to “Hard Rain.”

Nylah’s eyes widened. She had been so characteristically immersed in the immediacy of the engagement that she had neglected to keep track of this key mission milestone.

Time flies when you’re having fun.

There was no way in hell that she wanted herself or her people to be anywhere near where they were now when the ‘Hard Rain’ began.

“Copy that, Flight – Actual.” Nylah acknowledged and began to curve her graceful craft away from the heart of the engagement. “Wildcards disengaging. Out.”

Her diamond of Wildcards followed in her wake as the fighters tore out towards the periphery of The Belt and open space beyond. Far on the opposite side, at the point where the Vaadwaur had issued forth from the Anomaly that they had torn from Underspace – a gargantuan Gaul-class juggernaut held vigil over the enemy’s insertion point. Her commander obviously not overly inclined to give up their sentinel – position to guard the portal to Underspace and the penultimate target and strategic goal of Operation ‘Trojan – Arrow’.

The Blackout Outpost.

“Wildcard Leader to all Wildcards.” Burke sent over the Squadron – comms, to gather her flock. “Shuffle the deck and converge on my vector. It’s time to clean house.”

“This is Bravo Flight – Copy that Wildcard Leader.” Returned Lieutenant (Jg) Yehor “Cossack” Usenko, as he called in to marshal his flight of Wildcards. Nylah was secretly relieved, of all her pilots – the big Ukrainian was by far the most aggressive and sometimes it was damned hard to get him back on his leash.

“Delta here, Wild-card Leader.” Sent Lieutenant (Jg) Zephan “Breaker” Moses, the remaining Flight – Leader, in his habitual, unhurried tones. “Pity to leave the party early, but the night is still young and plenty more debutantes are waiting in the wings.”

Burke suppressed a smile and sent back.

“There’ll be time to rock it to the morning hours, Breaker, but if you don’t get your ass off the dancefloor now, you’re gonna get your dance – card stamped for good!”

“Copy that Wildcard Leader. We are inbound. Wildcard – 9. Out.”

As the Wildcards emerged from the edge of the asteroid field, there were further Vaadwaur Naval assets waiting for them, the Secondary Hull of the USS Hikaru Sulu emerged from the sea of rock, her ponderous bulk literally pushing smaller asteroids aside in the wake of her passage – as she joined the distant ‘Chevron’, where Commander Wing was directing the fire from the Saucer – section against the enemy.

“All units, this is the Captain.” Came Captain Shavda’s sure and reassuring tones over the all – channel comm override. “Clear The Belt now. “Hard – Rain” commencing in Three, Two, One…..MARK!!!”

From all within the asteroid belt, the defensive preparations that Commander Maynard’s Starfleet Corps of Engineering crews had been feverishly laying down, devices hurriedly produced in the Industrial – replicators abord the ‘Sulu – all meticulously manufactured to the insidious instruction of their infamous prisoner, the True Way Terrorist – Gul Yomat Ghallir, and distributed through the volume of The Belt – all activated.

The Terran miners of the Bactra – Angelus Extractive GbmH Mining Corporation endured the countless dangers and hardships to eke out an existence within The Belt for exactly one reason and one reason alone.

Dilithium.

This unique crystalline element was essential for containing and regulating the annihilatory reaction of matter and antimatter in a starship’s warp core. With a mineral structure consisting 2(5)6 dilithium 2(:)l diallosilicate 1:9:1 heptoferranide, composed of two covalently bonded lithium atoms which existed naturally in gaseous lithium – it was uniquely stable and notoriously hard to force to criticality.

Which is why the miners of The Belt had resorted to procuring ‘Tri – Cobalt’ demolition – charges from nefarious criminal sources (a rigidly – proscribed product within the Federation) with which to more effectively separate &  extract the Dilithium Crystal – ore and boost their production output.

At Gul Ghallir’s direction, a “Killing – Box” of asteroids had been seeded with carefully emplaced “Tri – Cobalt’ explosive charges, all primed to initiate upon receipt of a coded signal from the USS Hikaru Sulu.

Reaching criticality, the resulting reflective explosive potential of both Tri – Cobalt and Dilithium would result in an exponential increase, amplifying the destructive power of the reaction. That this would inflict a substantial financial loss to the Bactra – Angelus Extractive GbmH Mining Corporation might have also been a happy coincidence for Gul Yomat Ghallir, but then maybe not.

But this alone would not be sufficient to destroy the Vaadwaur Supremacy vessels that were threading their way through this infernal gauntlet at this time. Contemporary shielding technology was sufficient to protect most vessels from the destructive effects of space travel, of magnitudes approaching that of a supernova.

Explosive force always follows the path of least resistance and space is large and (mostly) empty.

Hence why Gul Yomat Ghallir had concocted the strategy of the “Hard Rain.”

All throughout the peripheries of The Belt, Commander Maynard and his teams had also seeded a number of devices that were, in effect, a power – source strapped to a simple tractor beam emitter.

Upon receiving the activation code, these units came online from their previous dormant space – so small and uncomplicated to be noted by the pursuing Vaadwaur forces and – when a vessel came within range of their sensing – field, these tractor beams locked on to all of the “Tri – Cobalt” – laden asteroids surrounding the intruder and literally dragged the massive explosive laced – rocks, at high speed, toward the Vaadwaur ships.

When the asteroids converged together with the Vaadwaur ships at their meridian – point, proximity fuses activated and initiated the explosives and Dilithium. With such a critical – mass of energetic material denoted in such a small volume of space – the end result was sufficiently devastating as to ensure the target’s complete destruction – in all but the most resilient of cases.

A literal “Echo – Chamber” of supreme destruction, reflecting and resonating death in concentric waves.

Nylah’s heart skipped a beat as the “Hard Rain” initiated, all through the edge of the belt – massive asteroids were compelled inwards – as if drawn by a colossal magnet. Trillions of megatons of Dilithium – rich rock smashing into the shields of the Vaadwaur ships and detonating in an incandescent blinding corona of light. The Electromagnetic discharge that resulted from the wave of explosions, was only slightly less terrifying and chaotic than the tsunami of shattered rock that literally filled the space within the belt – the Wildcards having to resort to evasive action – even this far out – to escape being pulverized by this massive blunderbuss of annihilation.

“Subtle.” Her wingman, “Ploughman” sent.

“H’mmm.”  Nylah agreed.

With a single stroke, Gul Ghallir’s devilment of Asymmetric Warfare had levelled the playing field and the Vaadwaur invasion fleet had lost over half of its effective fighting strength in an instant.

Burke watched as the two mighty halves of the USS Hikaru Sulu converged onto the same vector and began the graceful process of drawing together to re – merge back into a single, awesomely powerful, capital ship.

Somewhere, beyond the seething caldera of chaos that the “Hard Rain” had reduced the peripheries of The Belt to, the implacable Gaul-class juggernaut and the remaining forces of the Vaadwaur Supremacy awaited, more resolved now than ever, protecting the Supremacy’s path of retreat to Underspace and standing guard before the Blackout Platform that had to be destroyed if they were ever to link up with the rest of the Fourth Fleet and begin to take the fight back to the Vaadwaur.

Nylah steeled herself for the conflict to come and tried not to consider the desperate odds that were still stacked against them.

“Wildcards, this is Wildcard – Leader.” Lieutenant Nylah “Nails” Burke sent to her angels of death.

“Form up on me!”