Heritage

Heritage (Chapter 41)

Chapter 41: Stella

It's almost hard to believe that it's been six months already. Time has seemed to pass like a flash of lightning since I've been attending the Flight Candidate School.

Being here is everything I've dreamed of.

Top of the line training programs, master instructors, and the satisfaction of hands on training. Just the training simulators themselves gets your adrenaline pumping and I've never found myself so happy with the exception of one thing...Leon is missing.

We've hardly had any contact what so ever since he became a Navy SSEAL the only talks we've really had are video calls here and there on a hacked military TAPs device that he keeps hidden. They only seem to last seconds and feels like my heart is breaking when he has to hang up so suddenly.

I suppose I'd rather that than no contact though...I miss him so much. The separation is so much worse than I had anticipated. The only thing that seems to keep my head straight is the academy itself. It always has my head in a book, hologram, or simulation that puts every ounce of my concentration to the test. This entire experience is completely bittersweet and it's hard to decide if I just want it to end or if I just want to ride the tide and have fun while I'm here. I know Leon would like me to do that.

"Stella...Stella...Cadet Stella!" A voice yells, snapping me out of another one of my daydreaming episodes.

It's been getting harder to keep my self-focused in class the past few days. "I'm sorry sir, I zoned out for a moment," I respond to the instructor in a surprised and stupefied manner.

He raises an eyebrow to me as I feel his eyes scan my facial expression. "It's fine. Just don't let it happen again. All of you are here to learn how to be effective pilots, not to daydream," He says scolding me in a stern manner.

"Yes sir, I apologize, it won't happen good," I say, guilt painting my face.

My instructor turns without another word and continues his lecture on dogfighting tactics.

Being a fighter pilot in this day and age is ten times more dangerous than it has been in the past military ages. Though the training now has been cut down to under a year with new scholastic advancements, it used to take up to three years to effectively learn the tactics and strategies of a professional pilot.

The fighter jets reach speeds of more than double what they originally could with the innovations in propulsion technology. Maneuvering in a conflict situation must be nearly flawless as one wrong twist or turn of the plane can cause it to be torn apart by the sheer speed of its traveling.

The highly aerodynamic design of the planes helps to compensate but the materials simply haven't caught up with the technology. Dogfights require the most skill as a fighter pilot, requiring pinpoint precision and unhindered reflexes. A human fighter pilot has to be able to react instantly to any situation.

Humans are much more disadvantaged in aerial conflicts as the Sekrid seemed to have focused much of their military advancement to that of flight. Their bodies are also more capable of handling higher gravitational forces due to their natural body structures which have always been larger and more evolved than any Earth dwelling creature.

I tried to listen as much as possible after that but the entire class seemed to pass by like a blur before I heard the word "dismissed," spoken to the class.

I quickly gather my things and briskly walk down the stairs of the lecture hall, avoiding any and all looks from other classmates. But before I'm able to make it through the door, our instructor, Lieutenant Colonel Myers, stops me, "Stella, may I have a word with you?" He asks while leaning against his desk staring at an irrelevant folder of documents.