Again, this probably has some errors in it, but otherwise, it's about as it will appear in the book.

You might notice some similarities to the draft version, and definitely some stuff that isn't there - such as NPRP. Poor NPRP. I miss him. But he made things too easy.

 Click the "read more" link below to see the chapter.

**

Chapter 2
Delusional

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he stepped out onto the bridge again to take his seat. At least his inadvertent desk-nap had refreshed him somewhat.

“We’ve nearly reached our destination,” Fae’Erekdra reported tersely. Vathion nodded.

“Ca’Bibbole, tell everyone to stop here.”

“And when they ask why?”

“We need to train with the new equipment before we get into a fight with it.” Thankfully, Vathion had managed to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Bibbole’s ears flicked back in acknowledgement. Apparently, he found Vathion’s reasoning sound. ‘For once.’

“Full stop achieved,” Erekdra announced.

“Alright,” Vathion turned to his screen. “Since we’ve only got a limited number of missiles, we’re going to forego firing any of those. However the phaser arrays and other energy weapons should be fine. We have any good targets in the area to practice on?”

“No sir.”

Vathion hmmed softly, “Guess I could have our fighters sneak out and grab us some asteroids from Marak to blast. That’d be good training for them.” Getting to his feet, he glanced around, “I’m on call.” With that, he headed off the bridge and to his room briefly to change into his father’s flight suit.

The lift ride to his destination was mercifully short, as the enclosed space made him a bit nervous. Stepping out, he confidently strode towards the odd-number-out fighter he’d had the Wilsaers build. This ship, like the rest of the Fighter wing was painted like a bird of prey. Not that the Gilon would realize that it was a meat-eating bird, as it was an alien species. Vathion’s fighter was titled War Eagle. All the fighters of the Natan Fleet were considered the same class-design. Vathion had designated them FG6 - for he had skipped several generations of fighter designs by using alien technology. The Xarian Fighters were numbered Eagle 1 - and onwards until sixty and divided into six color squads. The other fighters were currently stacked in their housings along the walls, only the transports remained on the shuttle bay floor - and now Vathion's fighter would join them, since there was nowhere else to park War Eagle.

As he approached, War Eagle’s canopy popped open and he climbed in, settling into his seat. This fighter was different from the others. Technically, it could seat three. His engineers had suggested it, and the Wilsaer had, surprisingly, backed them up. Vathion wasn’t sure what he would use the second seat for, but figured it was probably good to have it, given that things did happen from time to time.

“War Eagle, wake up.”

At his command, the canopy closed and the wallscreens surrounding him lit up with a slight glow. “Turn up transparency.” In response, the screens changed to show the shuttle bay around him.

Stretching his fingers, Vathion sighed softly and settled back into his seat. “AI start.”

“Good afternoon, pilot,” the AI’s voice purred. “Please state your name?” He had blended this voice on his own, and hearing it actually speaking something other than the test phrase made him realize something he hadn’t before. The AI sounded nearly identical to Mirith; a sort of sunny-sexy. Not quite as bouncy as Mirith usually was, but it was close. He closed his eyes and sighed at himself.

‘I should just give up and say it... I love her.’

“Vathion,” he said, responding to the AI.

“Pi’Vathion, would you like to name me?”

“Yes,” he paused, “I name you Aila.”

The AI, which he thankfully had not programmed a graphic for, replied, “Thank you, Pi’Vathion!” She sounded just like Mirith then. “Registering implant codes. Check. Registering brain wave patterns. ... Hyphokos are requested to disengage.”

“Just take the top line wave pattern,” Vathion ordered.

“Okay.”

Aila paused, then reported, “Scan has been sorted. Check. Refitting contours to pilot. Check. Are we going for a ride?”

“Yes,” Vathion said.

“Running diagnostics on all systems.”

This time, Vathion had to wait nearly a minute as text scrolled up his screen. “All systems are go. Initiating pilot interface.”

For a moment, Vathion sat stunned as the data from Aila’s sensors was directly fed to him through his implants. He knew on an instinctual level that outside his craft, it was exactly sixty-nine degrees. It wasn’t that he was the ship in the same way that he was a physical body, but he knew that his every thought was powerful.

Taking a breath to calm his racing heart, he closed his eyes and thought about his engines starting and lifting him off the shuttle bay floor slowly. Only the slightest sense of movement, and he opened his eyes, finding the fighter tipped slightly forward for takeoff. Vathion clutched the arms of his chair. With a thought, he turned the nose of his fighter towards the open shuttle bay doors and carefully glided towards them.

Vathion paused at the force-shield that covered the entrance of the shuttle bay, then took a breath and slid through it.

His sensors registered the shield passing across the skin of his fighter. He was immediately chilled by the sudden drop of temperature and shivered. “Raise internal temp,” he ordered, teeth chattering. “Alter feedback. Filter that out.”

Immediately, warm air began blowing across him and he swallowed, firmly telling himself that it was a trick of his mind. “I’m not cold. Not really.” He swallowed and touched the engines, pushing forward carefully. He felt a very vague sense of movement, but figured that was mostly because of his link with the sensors. He wasn’t going nearly fast enough to have really noticed a change in speed.

“Incoming call,” Aila announced.

Vathion sighed. Of course...

“Answer.”

Bibbole’s face appeared on the screen. “What are you doing out there?”

“Testing my programming.”

“That’s not your place.”

Glowering, Vathion said, “I’m going to trust a couple hundred people’s lives to this program and you want to tell me that it’s not my place to put my life on the line first? I’m fully capable of getting back into the shuttle bay if anything goes wrong. So far, everything’s fine.”

Except that he needed to test the jump capabilities of his fighter next, and speed, which would require him to move further away from safety. Right now, though, everything seemed to be running within acceptable parameters. In fact, they were well below anything he should have been worried about. Turning away from the fleet, Vathion engaged his scanner scrambler.

In the background, Vathion heard Li’Codas sputter. “He disappeared.” Snorting, Vathion increased the thrust of his engines, darting away from the Fleet. He could feel the G-forces now, pushing him back against the seat. If there had been air, he would have felt it rushing across his sensors. As it was, he felt the tiny particles of space dust hitting and bouncing away. Mentally, he ordered Aila to shift Bibbole’s image out of his way and concentrated on what he was doing.

“Ha’Vathion, I repeat - this is very...” He stopped and frowned, “You’re not listening, are you.”

“Not really.”

The hyphokos sighed.

Briefly, the image shorted out as Vathion hit jump speed and engaged the drive.

“WHOO!” he shouted as he popped out the other side. “Holy Reunion!” he gasped, “That was flippin awesome!”

“What?” Bibbole asked, looking mildly disconcerted.

Flicking the scanner scrambler off again, he boosted back to high speed, turned and headed past the Fleet again.

“Something’s buzzing us!” Codas asked.

“It’s just Ha’Vathion,” Bibbole said.

“What? At those speeds?”

“Watch this!” Vathion called and boosted into jump again.

Dropping out again some distance away he turned the fighter to head back to the Xarian. “Whoo! Bibbole - send out to the Fleet, pilots are to report to their shuttle bays, dressed for flight. Undock all fighters.”

As he approached the Xarian, Vathion slowed and entered the bay carefully before setting down on the floor near the entrance. Kiti was in the process of unloading the remaining fighters on the floor, setting them into neat rows. Vathion unstrapped and climbed out of War Eagle.

‘At least, I’ll have died knowing what it felt like to pilot a fighter.’

Moments later, the pilots began entering. Vathion waved for them to come to him. As they gathered around, he flicked his gaze across them, noting that over half had Hyphokos. “Before you can go to your assigned fighters, I need to tell you a few things,” Vathion called, “These ships are nothing like what you’ve piloted before. That’s not to say that your experience means nothing. That just means that you’re going to have to think a bit differently - and figure out how to apply your previous training in innovative ways.” He paused and put on a grin, “This is the Natan Fleet, after all. We’re pioneers.” His pilots didn’t look particularly pleased, but he went on. “Now, there are a few safety measures that must be adhered to. Pilots will be Gilon only.” He was given strange looks. “I know these are fighters, and that loss of life is inevitable, but that doesn’t mean we have to take along passengers who will only hamper you.

“These fighters are capable of doing Jump. Due to their size, we couldn’t equip them with inertial dampeners to support Hyphokos life. Additionally, the AI’s aren’t really built for modifying the life support systems to that degree.” The looks had turned to shock. “Believe me, you won’t need the boosts in awareness and reflexes the hyphokos give you.” Folding his hands Vathion concluded, “For this flight, since it’s training, you may take your hyphokos with you, however, on actual missions, you may not. Please go to your assigned fighters now.”

Obediently, his pilots broke off and jogged along the lines of fighters and stopped at theirs. Stepping back, Vathion dropped down into the open canopy of his fighter once again and said, “Aila, transmit general unlock.” Immediately, the canopies of the other fighters opened.

Waiting until everyone was settled, Vathion said, “Aila, transmit general program start.”

Closing his canopy, he called the visuals to each pilot, waiting while they went through the startup checklist and were then plugged into their machines. Many sat in what was apparently dumbfounded shock. After waiting a moment more, Vathion addressed them, “Now, as you’ve all realized, you are hooked directly to your ship’s sensors. This means that you are the only one who can pilot your individual fighter until I reset the AI. That’s a bit of a pain in the rear, so if you could avoid getting killed or fired, that’d be a big help.”

Amazingly, a few pilots chuckled.

“Now, to begin training, I’d like you all to start your engines. ...You may have noticed that you’re lacking any visuals and controls. Order your AI to turn up transparency. To start your engines, use your head.”

Vathion waited a moment more to see if anyone got it; a few did, his wing commander being the first. She was a smart woman. He had high hopes for her. Finally, everyone was ready. “Now, think about lifting off vertically.”

Slowly, the fighters rose and Vathion waited until everyone had figured out what he meant. Gliding backwards, he exited the shuttle bay. Taking the hint, the wing followed him.

Turning his ship around, Vathion boosted away from the Xarian. “Alright, now I would like you to assume a standard formation. Pilot Captain, take command. Remember, be innovative!”

With that, he shot off towards the Midris to get their fighters out and training.

* * *

Over the next three shifts, Vathion had gotten a majority of his crew trained on their new equipment, then Aila had abruptly returned to the Xarian, opened the canopy, and shut down. “What the hell?” he demanded, “Aila!”

“I’m sorry, Ha’Vathion,” Aila said, “But you have been awake for more than a standard day and have not eaten in twenty hours.”

“You’re starting to sound like Kiti,” he growled.

“Your vital signs are showing stress. Additionally, my oxygen supplies are limited. I must insist on refueling at the least. That will take at least two hours.”

“Liar,” Vathion stated flatly. “Don’t try to fool me with that kind of crap.” Unbuckling, he climbed out of the pilot seat and staggered as he dropped to the shuttle bay floor. After the dizziness passed, he straightened and headed for the lift, glowering at the floor.

Once he reached the officer’s deck, Vathion headed down the hall to the bridge. Stepping in, he glanced around at his fourth shift crew. “I’m off duty now,” he stated, “If I’m needed, call.” Turning, he headed out and across the hall to his room.

Dropping to his face on the bed, he heaved a sigh. He was so tired he ached, but still couldn’t quite get his eyes to shut. “Kiti... tea please?”

“Yes sir.”

Rolling over, he stared at the ceiling, “Are you still angry at me?”

“I’m a program.”

“Oh enough with that!” Sitting up he unzipped his suit. “You’re still angry with me.” His tea arrived promptly and he picked it off the floor as the Daisybots delivered it. “If you want, you can feed me too.”

“Okay.”

Sipping the tea, he wrapped his fingers around it, still feeling inwardly cold, despite having had the heater on fairly high the whole time he had been training. “Psychological,” he muttered, “it’s just in my head.”

As were a lot of things, apparently.

He kicked off his boots and set his tea down briefly to finish shucking his flight suit and everything but his pants. Settling on his bed again, he took another swallow of tea. At least he felt marginally at peace. Almost like his inner demons were pleased with his work today. “I wish you’d leave me alone so I could rest,” he whispered, staring down at his cup. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to make bigger mistakes than the ones you’ve been pissed at me for if I don’t get some restful sleep.”

Wincing he swallowed another gulp of tea. “But I guess this is just a sign. Talking to myself... Savon’s right. I’m going crazy. My brain’s developed a split personality. The other one’s just not manifested into something with a voice yet. But it keeps me awake, berating me for my stupidity. I don’t...want to be at war with myself. So please stop judging me so harshly. Everyone else in the Empire is doing enough of that already.”

“Stud Muffin...”

Looking up, Vathion found that a bowl of stew had been delivered to him. Setting his empty mug aside, Vathion picked up his dinner and carefully ate that. It tasted surprisingly good. Finishing that, he stripped his pants and dropped into bed.

* * *

It took Vathion almost a full minute to realize that he was awake. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find he was in bed, sprawled across it as far as he could reach. The lights were still dimmed and he closed his eyes, letting sleep overtake him for another ten minutes. It was when nature finally made it impossible for him to remain asleep that he sat up and yawned. “Kiti?” he mumbled. “Low lights?”

Obediently, the lights brightened enough that he could get across the room to the toilet. He washed his hands once he was done and yawned again, “what time is it?”

“Noon, Heartland time.”

“...I slept...”

“Thirteen hours,” Kiti sounded rather cheerful. “Perhaps talking to yourself has its benefits?”

Rubbing his eyes, Vathion stared at himself in the mirror. “Apparently.” Taking a breath and letting it out, he shoved his hands through his hair before turning towards the shower. “No one had any pissyfits, right?”

“No. I informed Bibbole of how long you were working yesterday when he requested to know where you were.”

Vathion had to grin slightly, “How’d he take that?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” Kiti admitted, “He didn’t seem very happy.”

“I’m coming to realize that no one is going to be happy with me and I should stop trying.” He leaned against the shower wall and the warm water sprayed across his shoulders. “I’m going to die soon anyway, and if I die with their approval... well, great. If not...”

“I don’t think you’re going to die...” Kiti sounded mildly upset.

“Go crazy, then.”

“You’re getting better...”

“One night of sleep doesn’t count as better,” he felt obligated to point out. “Besides, maybe I was just too exhausted?”

Kiti was apparently unhappy with that and sprayed him with suddenly ice cold water. “Gyah!” Tripping out of the shower, he scowled, “Quit that!”

“Sorry. Malfunction.”

“Liar.”

The water began steaming a moment later and Vathion climbed back in distrustfully. “Why don’t you make breakfast?”

“I already did.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve decided that you will be fed at eight, noon, and five.”

Snorting in amusement, Vathion shook his head, “You sound like you’re taking care of a pet.”

“You certainly haven’t been acting civilized lately.”

“Whatever.”

Finishing his shower quickly and in silence, Vathion stepped out to dry of and get dressed. He found breakfast waiting on the bedside table; toast, eggs, and fruit. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he began nibbling at it. “Stud Muffin, Mirith is calling.”

“Oh.” Picking up his shirt and pants, Vathion pulled those on quickly before taking the remainder of his breakfast into his office. Mirith’s image appeared on the wallscreen immediately.

“Hey Vath,” she smiled, but her smile was slightly hesitant.

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head, she sighed, “I was worried about you. Everyone’s so... ticked off right now. I wasn’t sure if you knew or not.”

“I know about it.”

“IT it?”

“Yeah.”

Mirith sighed, “I yelled at him for that. He just smiled. Like everything was going according to plan. I called him a Rebel.” She sighed and rubbed her face. “He didn’t like that at all.”

“He fired you?”

She bit her lower lip, “Not ...quite. But he’s really not happy with me. So I left. But... I’m kind of stranded now. I made it to Baelton.”

Vathion looked down at his toast.

“I’m sorry to ask you this, but could you spare some money to get me back to Marak?”

Lifting his eyes, he shook his head, “How about I bring you here?”

Her eyes widened. “But...”

“I- I need you. I...” he closed his mouth and sighed, “I just need you. I don’t have anyone else to talk to and... you know what everyone else thinks of me. It’s just as bad here.”

“Oh Vath,” her hand pressed against the vidscreen. “I’ve made all kinds of statements and interviews here. I’m doing everything I can to change their minds.”

“It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. My sanity is what matters. And honestly, Mirith, I’m losing it.” He licked his lips. “I’ll come pick you up.”

“What?” she gasped, “the whole fleet?”

“No, just me. I’ll be there in about an hour or so.”

“But...” she began to protest, then blushed as he kissed his fingers and pressed them to the screen where her lips were.

“Just come to the small shuttles dock. Look for the freakiest ship there.”

Unable to help it, Mirith smiled slightly. “Okay. Will there be room for my bags?”

“How many do you have?”

“Three?”

“Hmm. We’ll see. Bye.”

Disconnecting, he shoved the rest of his toast into his mouth and dusted his hands, heading out into the sitting room. “You sure this is a good idea?” Kiti asked.

“You’re objecting to me having not only someone to talk to, but someone who will ensure that I take care of myself?”

“...no...”

“And I know Bibbole’s not going to like me just running off like this, but I swear I’ll be back in a few hours. Maybe less. Mirith doesn’t have a hyphokos.” With a spring in his step, Vathion went to get his flight suit on and jogged down the hall to the lift.