The roar of a fully wound TMDS driver resounded through the passageways of the TAS Dauntless. Even in the main airlock, where forty Dragon Riders were prepping for a training exercise, the noise was loud enough to necessitate the disabling of helmet mics, isolating the forty men and women from the brunt of the sound. Even so, the rumbling throughout the ship caused their suits to carry the sound enough to make the orders they were receiving difficult to hear.
“Now remember,” the training operation’s leader said over the wireless helmet comms, “once we hype through, we will have exactly twelve centidays for the drivers to unwind and another eight for the navigators to get the next hype programmed and the drivers wound back up. If you’re still between ships when that time comes, you will be left behind, so you’ll have to signal the courier ship before it hypes away in order to… you know, not die.” Everyone laughed, and smiles made their way around the airlock.
“No, but really,” he continued. If you don’t make it, just signal the courier, and it’ll pick you up. When it gets back to the last waystation, switch over to the outbound courier, and they’ll bring you back to us. You’ll also be put on rations and extra training for a few days, but you’re not going to die, so don’t freak out. Just remain calm and do your job. I don’t want any laggers this time. You’ve all got this. Everybody ready?” A round of agreements went around, and thumbs and pinkies were extended to give the ok.
“Good. We’re good to go in three, two, one–” The claxons sounded, and the lights went red as dozens of ships hyped in unison. Immediately after that all too familiar implosive-explosive sensation associated with a successful hype, the airlock doors flung open, and the Dragon Riders ran out into the vacuum. Moments later, they were jumping, one by one, into the void. One failed to release his magnetic locks before the final kick, causing him to move much more slowly than the rest. He would be left behind.
At the forefront of the group was the newest up-and-comer, Grie Khuda’Mundi. Though he had not been the first to jump, his had been the best timed in conjunction with the magnetic locks, giving him enough speed to quickly maneuver to the front. Once there, there was nothing to look at but the tiny ships in the distance and the vastness of space. And then, the ships were gone.
The ships weren’t really gone, Grie reminded himself. The visible radiation emitted by the ships when they exited the hype had just stopped. Since the ships weren’t lit, the only way to know they were there was by observing the empty spaces among the stars. That was why these jumps took place immediately after hypes, after all. If they were performed at any other time, it would be too difficult to aim, and the jumps would be exponentially more dangerous.
Nonetheless, the disappearance of the ships did signal that the first three centidays had passed. By now, the crews of each ship were disabling their sound reducers. Grie was reminded of his days working engineering on the Dragon King. It had only been eighty days since he had become a Dragon Rider, but it felt like an eternity. The training was rigorous all day, every day, and the meals were quick. The only time he had to rest was the 25-centiday period allotted every other day for sleep. Just thinking about it made him tired. The Armada hyped every twenty centidays, three times a day. At that rate, they were able to cover about ten light-cycles a day.
Grie spun around to look at the other Dragon Riders. The newest, a young Thoren woman named Brilje, seemed rather tense at the fact that she had absolutely no sensation of movement. It was common to be unnerved by this the first few jumps between ships, but it was something that Dragon Riders just had to get used to. On Grie’s first jump, he had accidentally jumped to the wrong ship and travelled twice the expected distance. Luckily, it had been the last hype of the day, so he hadn’t been left behind, but it had been incredibly embarrassing to have to take a shuttle to the proper ship.
“Are you alright, Brilje? You look like you might be having trouble.” Grie had been thoughtful enough to mention this on a private channel, and even as he started to talk, he could see her relaxing. If you didn’t relax, you were more likely to go crazy in the dark, so it was one of the first things they all learned.
“Yeah, thanks,” she replied. “I just freaked out for a milliday. I had actually thought the ships hyped without us.” She tried to laugh it off, but it was a real concern. The main purpose of this exercise was to build that ability to relax in situations like this, so it wouldn’t be the craziest thing in the world if the Armada jumped without them just to see how they reacted. The man who had jumped too slowly was about to find out just how terrifying it really was to see the Armada hype away.
“You know, if you pull up your HUD, there are some games to keep your mind off the jump.” Grie knew they weren’t supposed to tell anyone the games were there, but they had been designed for just such occasions, so he figured it a pity that they were so hush-hush.
He didn’t play the games anymore, himself, but that was more due to the fact that he loved the stars on this side of the Bifrost. Even from one waystation to another, the stars were always different. Every once in a while, the Armada would even hype a little too close to a stellar system, leavin
g planets visible in the dark. “Thanks, Grie,” Brilje said. Soon, he could tell she was playing, because her limbs totally relaxed.
After a great deal of floating, one of the tiny ships in the distance became a very large ship. By the time the Dragon Riders all started turning to land on their magnetic locks, the ship was taking up their entire view, darkening the whole sky. Grie spun his weight around and stuck out his feet, which thudded into the side of the ship. As soon as they had, he engaged the magnetic locks, and he was secured. Looking up, he saw the others coming in for their landings, and he helped those who needed it.
WIth his eyes still to the one remaining Dragon Rider passing through the void, he received a tap on the shoulder. It was time to go in. The rumbling of the drivers was becoming audible through the hull of the ship, which meant there were only a couple more centidays before the next hype. Grie ran to the airlock with the rest, and the doors closed. Immediately, the lights came on, and air started rushing into the room.
“Alright, everyone,” the operation leader said. “That was good. We lost one, but he’ll be fine. Now, everybody hydrate and pressurize. You just did a lot more twisting and pushing than you probably realize since most of it was wasted motion, but you have tired yourselves out, so you all need to hook into a hydrater and grab a drink before the next op. You all have one centiday to take a break, then we do this again.” Everyone groaned jokingly and backed into one of the ports in the bulkhead for hooking up the suits. This was going to be a long day.