Chapter 87: Flying Lesson I

Lusac took a breath and double checked his seatbelt.

"Lighten up, Lus. It's just liftoff," Oaty said from next to him, not even bothering with the safety measure for himself.

"My last liftoff didn't go too well," Lus reminded him, thinking back to punching a hole in the top of a warehouse during his and Vlqtrn's escape from the Senator's mansion a few weeks back.

"But you didn't have me there to coach you. It'll be fine. Now get the engines on, and let's take this puppy out."

They were in the smallest available shuttle which was both good and bad for Lusac. The good thing was that it was easy to fly it around, the bad was that it was easy to fly it around, meaning small adjustments he might make on the joystick resulted in big changes while out in space. Oaty insisted they use this one so Lusac would be forced to practice having a steady hand while at the helm.

"Come on," Oaty urged him.

Lus puffed out his cheeks and exhaled deeply as he flipped the appropriate switches to ignite the shuttle's engines. The ship hummed to life, and more holoscreens popped up to give him maximum information while flying.

"Nice and easy," the man in the other seat encouraged him.

Nodding, Lusac touched the controls for takeoff, and the shuttle lurched upwards suddenly, nearly slamming into the roof of the bay.

"Easy, easy," Oaty reminded him, his voice teasing more than angry. Lusac had never known the pilot to get mad, even in situations when he definitely should be.

Lus gave another tight nod and slowly edged the shuttle forward, towards the bay's exit while remaining careful not to scrape against the walls, ceiling, or floor.

"Easy doesn't mean svail pace, Lusac. My nana drives faster than this."

"Who's the pilot here?" Lus shot a brief glare towards his overly vocal friend before putting all his focus back on guiding the shuttle out of the Argo and into the open cosmos.

Once they were clear of the ship, Lusac allowed himself to breathe easy again. The Argo was currently stopped for some minor engine maintenance in a small, uncolonized solar system with dual suns, one large and blue and the other a small white one.

"I input some coordinates in the navigation system. Take us there," Oaty directed him.

Lusac did as he was commanded, keeping one hand on the main joystick to keep the ship steady while the other did the work of pulling up the coordinates and getting the directions pulled up on the main screen. Technically Oaty could have done that part from the co-pilot's seat, but he insisted Lusac get used to piloting alone which meant doing all the extra computer and sensor tasks in addition to driving.

"Did I ever tell you about winning the Cinder Rock Youth Cup back in the day?"

"Back in the day? Oaty, you're barely ten years older than me." Lusac didn't have to worry quite so much about keeping the shuttle steady now that they were out in the open and on a smooth course away from the Argo. "And yes. You've told that story to everyone on the ship about a million times."

"It was the summer–summer for Rushtar at least, exactly fifteen standard years ago from today."

"It was fifteen years ago the first time I heard it too. If you're going to keep rehashing it, at least keep track of the actual date."

"You worry about piloting, and I'll worry about the story, young pupil."

Lus rolled his eyes and allowed Oaty to continue the tale.

"I was the only Human on the starting line, facing off against over a dozen Nemarians who'd been raised to pilot since the day they hatched. Not one of them took me seriously given I was a yokel, raised out in the wilds of Apollo."

"Wilds? Your parents were high level executives for one of the largest corporations in the galaxy. You told me you grew up in a mansion with more golems than people living in it," Lusac countered.

Oaty reached over to punch his arm. "You're the pilot, and I'm the entertainment. Now shut up, and let me finish."

Lusac put a hand up in a mock apology. "Of course, grand ancient master. Whatever you say, ancient one."

His friend smacked his arm again before clearing his throat resuming his story, one that Lus probably had heard a few dozen times in his two and a half years on the Argo. Luckily Oaty took broad creative liberty every time he told it, embellishing it in such a way that each time he told it, it was nearly a different tale.

This time Oaty added in a nemesis, a young female Nemarian who was "drop-dead gorgeous as far as purple scales went, but a rotten kixi at her core." And unlike the previous versions, Oaty gave excruciating details about the actual race, indepthly describing the taste of sweat and vomit he experienced early on.

Lus refrained from making too many comments since he was actually invested in it this time around. Having a nemesis added a new flair to the story and greatly changed the original dynamics.

Of course, there was only so much tension that Oaty could add in given the story always ended the same way. The young pilot prodigy proved his mettle against the stuck Nemarians to win the Cup, even setting a course record. A record that still stood given the war had broken out by the next year, ending all such galactic wide activities. Rushtar still put on the gladiatus fights, but everyone knew that it was because the government paid them obscene amounts of money and protected the entertainment planet in return for it providing a distraction from the war.

"Once this war is over, are you going to go back to racing, Oaty?" Lusac asked once the pilot concluded the epic tale for the upteenth time.

Oaty laughed. Hard.

Bent over, the pilot wheezed for air, the fit lasting well over a minute as Lus furled his eyebrows, glancing between the screens to keep the shuttle on course and his friend to make sure Oaty hadn't just come down with some sort of seizure.

Once Oaty had control of himself again, he sat up and wiped away the tears which had formed in his blue eyes.

"Oh, Lusac. You're too funny," he said with a sigh.

"It's a legitimate question," Lus defended himself.

"Stop. I'm going to die from laughing too hard if you keep it up."

"I don't see what's so funny."

Oaty shook his head. "Oh, Lusac. So innocent."

"Forget I asked."

There was a brief pause before Oaty spoke again.

"This war is never going to end. They only want you to think that."

"Who, the government?"

"And the Corporates. People on both sides are out there shooting each other and blowing up colonies and ships and factories all in the name of ending corruption, all oblivious to the greatest scam that this galaxy has ever seen."

Lusac didn't say anything. He'd never seen Oaty this serious, and he wasn't going to interrupt now.

"War, Lusac. War is a scam. It's a bunch of people shooting each for some grand idea, but in the end, that idea means nothing to the people in control. Corporates, Feds, it's all the same. The rich get richer, using their power to keep their homes safe while sending someone else's kid to die in a ditch or get blown to smithereens out in the black vacuum of space in meaningless battles." Oaty's voice was tense, angry even, something Lusac didn't think possible for the typically clownish pilot.

"All people want is to be safe, fed, and happy. And they've been conned into believing that fighting this war is somehow going to provide that. But in the end, the only people who win are the fatcats at the top of the hierarchy. The rest of us get screwed over, as they bleed us dry. When was the last time you heard of a battle taking place between the Corporates and Feds? And I mean, a real battle, one with dozens of ships and a massive casualty count. Not just a skirmish or raid."

Lusac shrugged. He didn't really keep up on current events.

"It's been over a year since the two sides properly faced off. And before that it was two years. After the initial conflict, everyone retreated to holding their own sections, and there's hardly been a real battle since. Nobody is fighting to win, and so how can the war ever end? Sure, we'll have small skirmishes here and there and some planet disputes, but truthfully, this thing could go on for decades, no, centuries.

"Everyone who's bothered to pay any sort of attention to this whole 'war' knows that it's a scam that will never end. Did you know the legislature members all got a 100% pay raise as 'hazard pay' when this thing started? And since the war's conception, all the senior members of the corporations have made more than double what their annual salaries in 'war bonuses.' How can we expect our leaders to ever broker peace when war makes them so much freaking money?" Oaty was animated, angry but also passionate as he spoke.

"I-I…" Lus's voice trailed off. He'd never looked at things that way. The war existed, but for the Runners, it only meant it was easy to skirt security checkpoints, and that there were more desperate clients out there willing to use the under the law means provided by the Runners.

Silence filled the shuttle. Clearly Lusac's answer was not what Oaty hoped for, but he didn't know what he could say now to fix anything. And truthfully, he was at a loss for words. Some part of him always believed that eventually the war would end, and then he'd be able to visit his home again. He didn't expect it soon, but… eventually.

Oaty's prognosis was dark to say the least. Lusac couldn't stand to think of all the wasted lives that were given under the false pretense of fighting for a better galaxy. It just made him so angry that people could get away with this kind of stuff, but he was mostly frustrated with how powerless he was to do anything about it.

"Sorry to ruin the mood," Oaty muttered after a couple of minutes.

"No. I'm sorry. I just don't know what to say. You're right, of course. It's just… hard to accept that."

"Looks like we're nearly there. Let me take over for a little bit." Oaty stood up, clearly uninterested in continuing the prior conversation.

Lusac undid his seatbelt and gave his seat to Oaty, plopping down in the co-pilot's chair where he had secondary control over many of the systems such as weapons and navigation.

A beeping immediately drew his attention.

"Watch out on our upper left," he warned the pilot, even though he knew Oaty's screens gave him the same alert. "And our lower right. And in front…"

Lusac looked forward out the main window with wide eyes at the giant asteroid floating just outside. Hundreds more lay beyond it as far as his eyes could see.

"Did you bring us to an asteroid field on purpose?" he asked.

"Of course. Asteroid fields are great for practicing the finer points of flying." Oaty looked at him with a broad grin.

"No. Not a chance. Oaty, take us out of here. I'm not ready," Lusac protested.

"Sure you are. It's not so hard once you get a little practice under your belt."

"But what if I crash? We could die."

"So don't crash." Oaty touched a few controls to set the ship into stable positioning and then stood up once more. "Alright, buddy. It's your turn. Let's see what you've got."

Lusac swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry and took over in the pilot's seat. Something inside warned that this might very well be a disaster.