Albatross: Origins of an Empire

One

"SYLVANIAN AIRCRAFT SERIAL NUMBER: 933-01 you are confirmed for landing. Bring her in steady." A response broadcasted from the magnificent Imperial airship the Steel Stead.

The sophisticated lady engulfed my entire vision... representing the phenomena of modern engineering. My golden eyes studied her complex structure while peering through the emerald ultra-violet visor that had been fixed over my forehead.

The Steel Stead was constructed to be the finest ship in her league. She was a custom job manufactured by the most qualified shipbuilders in all of Sylvania. Her form resembled the shape of a keen arrowhead...

She was sophisticated in design and built for speed. Gaudy golden trim ornamented her precise body lines and pearl white metallic paint coated her entire form.

Sunlight of the Nievian sun glistened brightly in my field of vision... sparkling off of her finest details. The Steel Stead was the pride of the Sylvanian air force, which I was unfortunate to associate myself with.

"Initiating landing sequence..." My onboard A.I. assistant (Ada) bluntly replied due to the lack of my immediate response. I clearly had been captivated for too long, after all... this was my first encounter with a fine woman of great proportion. That is... other than Ada.

Ada and I enjoy a rather... peculiar bond. Similar to the fondness shared between all pilots of the Sylvanian Special Airforce and their personal AI assistants. These cybernetic attendants are usually located embedded within the intelligent software of our four-stage (4S) Venom jet craft.

These exceptional vehicles contain the ability to transform between four stages, including a humanoid roamer mode. Full control of our Venom vehicles is obtained through cognitive connection, via an implanted system known as a lifeline. It is up to our artificially implanted subordinates to fill in the remaining gaps, where a living brain cannot reign superior.

I grasped the plastic control stick between the gloved fingers of my right hand and began to guide Ada into the gaping landing bay of the Steel Stead. My left forearm (containing my lifeline) remained enveloped in the gauntlet bridging my interlink with Ada.

Our thoughts were presently idle as my main focus shifted to concluding the day's mission, returning home to my apartment, and possibly grabbing some grub for supper. That is, if my room-mate, Jester would be open to anything different.

The evening had overcome us now, the landing bay was illuminated before me with superb fluorescent lighting. I promptly deployed my flaps to steady my craft, and match my speed to the ship ahead.

"Completing landing sequence," I murmured over the radio while deploying the landing skids from the belly of our Venom.
"Engaging vertical thrusters... Adjusting power output to fifty percent, bringing her in steady," From there I began our descent onto the flight deck below.

Ada's X-70 Zenith engines expelled a low drone as her rear exhaust ports interchanged from a horizontal positioning to vertical. Small vents slid open in unison, lining Ada's complete underbelly and breaking our direct descent into the form of a hover. Bright green flares within the hands of the Steel Stead's docking crew provided additional guidance below.

"What a day... Hey A? I never understand how they can always see us coming..." My WSO's (weapons systems officer) voice arose from Ada's rear office, located directly behind me.

This man (First Lieutenant Miles J. Gavanaugh) was one of my closest associates in Sylvania. He came to be appointed as my flight officer while on an extended assignment direct from his home planet of Albastru... fourteen hundred light years from our location on Nievia.

His people were a mingled, hostile breed of humans. Upon extended contamination of their homeworld, they began to reach outward... bringing them to the heels of the Sylvanian Empire. Astonishingly Empress Lacombe expressed great diplomacy and accepted the Albastian refugees as valuable associates to her empire. She employed them as slaves and guaranteed them sanctuary, including my flight officer, First Lieutenant Gavanaugh.

I concluded our landing procedure and set Ada's engines to IDLE. Outside (projected on our viewing screens) the Steel Stead's crew had locked an armored dolly to our Venom's skids. Now secured to the massive air-ship, we were promptly towed into her belly and assigned to the F-deck for debriefing. After the hangar doors sealed to our rear, I lifted a gloved hand to my chin. I expelled a sigh as I proceeded to unlatch the series of locks securing my plastic O2 mask onto my flight helmet.

"Ada, depressurize... elevate canopy... refer all mission data to the Steel Stead... LOG NUMBER 300-12, solar date 443...22...15... Lieutenant Colonel R11-2 Adrian Wells of the Sylvanian Imperial Special Air-force. Confirm finalization and docking sequence. Serial number SYL-000114"
"Referring LOG NUMBER 300-12. Confirming finalization." Ada fed me through our cognitive connection.

To our exterior, the dolly reversed us into our absolute resting spot within hangar deck F, and secured automatic locks onto our skids. We were now ultimately joined to the massive air-ship engulfing us... until our next assignment.

"Ada, disengage interlink." Miles piped, instructing Ada to relieve him of his joined cognitive connection at his lifeline.
"Disengaging interlink to rear office." Our assistant responded to my flight officer. Miles concluded this procedure with a grunt while elevating his left forearm from the gauntlet attached to the paneling of the rear cockpit.

I proceeded to demand the same liberty upon the silencing of our engines. As requested, Ada withdrew my cognitive association... permitting my thoughts to be observed in privacy once again. Establishing interlink was a procedure I could never get used to, entirely...

There were only ten of us in the ISAF that had been nominated to be implanted with a lifeline as part of Project Venom... unfortunately, I was one of them.
This reasonably inhumane device was fed directly into the cerebrum section of the candidates' neurons. Extended cables were fibered deep into the spinal cord, and married into a surface port located in the left forearm. Through interlink, the candidates of Project Venom were capable of expanding complete consciousness, and motor control into the Venom roamer that encased them.

All data and communication was designed to be precisely accessed and downloaded through the power of natural thought. Miles elevated his body from his ejection seat and shifted focus to removing his flight helmet.

"Ah, I made it... Tonight is my first leave in over a month. Can't you believe that? I am going to spend it downtown as long as the Centrailians hold off! Commander Isroah will be hurting this evening after the lynching we delivered today!" Flight officer Gavanaugh delightfully expressed as he leaped out of his office and onto Ada's wing.

Miles was a youthful gentleman of about twenty-five years, with dark black hair and an alabaster complexion. He was my elder by almost ten years, and was honestly intellectual... though his Albastian principles were difficult for me to grasp. His associates commonly described Miles to have the likeness of Buddy Holly... who-ever that is.

"Good for you," I mumbled while lifting my helmet off my tied, shoulder-length, golden blonde hair, avoiding any conversation relating to the mention of Commander Isroah.

"You're scheduled for leave tonight too? Right, Adrian?"
"Correct..." I honestly replied upon unlatching the chest restraints from my seat and hoisting my being into a standing position.
"Well! Why didn't you say so? Come on A! I'm taking you with me tonight! You can't avoid hanging out with me this time man!"

My heart sank... Damn-it, Miles had to put me in a puzzling predicament. As stated by my flight officer, it too was my first leave in almost a month. I was due to return South to my small (shared) apartment in the disputed metropolis of Centrailia.