“Finn Arbogast?” several of us said in unison.
“Guilty as charged,” he said, grinning and slightly out of breath. “I ran all the way down here from the Op Center so I wouldn’t miss my chance to finally meet all of you.” He went around the cabin, giving each of us a firm handshake in turn. “You five people have been the pride and joy of the Chaos Terrain project for a long time now. In fact, your talent and dedication were what helped us convince the higher-ups that our civilian simulator training initiative could actually work on a global scale, so thank you!”
I’d seen plenty of photos and video interviews with Chaos Terrain’s founder, but in person he was shorter than I expected. He shook my hand last, and when our eyes met, he cocked his head at me sideways.
“You’re Zack Lightman, aren’t you?” he said, shaking his head as he studied my face. “The famous IronBeagle?”
I nodded. He glanced around at the others, then gave me a sheepish grin.
“Listen, Lieutenant,” Arbogast said. “I hope Admiral Vance wasn’t too hard on you earlier. There was no way you could have known about the security blockade doors on those drone launch tunnels. No enemy ship ever attempted that maneuver during any of their attacks against our moon base, so we never included it as a possibility in any of your Armada training missions.” He shrugged. “Live and learn, I guess.”
I glanced around the cabin. Everyone was staring at me in wide-eyed surprise.
“That was you?” Milo said, laughing. “You’re the kamikaze dumbass who chased that Glaive Fighter into the hangar before it went kaboom?”
I nodded.
Everyone stared at me for an awkward beat; then Arbogast clapped his hands.
“Well—I know you’re about to depart for MBA, so I don’t want to hold you up,” he said. “I just wanted to thank each of you, and commend you on your bravery—”
“Excuse me, sir,” Milo said, in his thick Philly accent. “But where the hell is RedJive? You know, The Red Baron? He’s the top-ranked Armada pilot in the world, right? So why ain’t he here? Aren’t you gonna recruit him, too?”
Arbogast shot a glance at me, then looked back at Milo.
“RedJive was recruited decades ago,” he said “He’s our most decorated pilot.”
Arbogast studied my reaction while the others exchanged looks of surprise.
“But who the hell is he?” Milo asked. “Or she?” He gave Whoadie and Debbie a placating smile.
Arbogast nodded. “RedJive is the call sign used by General Xavier Lightman.”
One at a time, the others each turned to look at the name patch sewn onto my uniform. Then they all stared at me for a few seconds. When I failed to say anything, Debbie finally broke the silence.
“Any relation, Zack?” she asked quietly.
I looked at Arbogast. He seemed interested in hearing how I would answer, too.
“He’s my father,” I said. “But I never knew him. I grew up believing he died when I was still just a baby. I just found out the EDA faked his death when they recruited him.”
They all stared back at me in silence, taking this in—except for Chén, who had to read the translation off his QComm before he understood what I’d just said. When he looked up from its display a few seconds later, he let out a long low whistle.
“And now you’re on your way to the moon to meet him for the first time?” Debbie said.
I nodded.
“Jesus, kid!” Milo said, shaking his head. “And I thought my day was turning out weird.”
I turned back to Arbogast. “Do you know him?”
“A little,” he said. “I had the honor of working with General Lightman briefly a few years ago. He was one of our primary military consultants on Armada.” He studied my face for a second, then shook his head. “You look just like him.”
I nodded. “Yeah, so I keep hearing.”
We heard a low whine as the shuttle engines began to power up. Arbogast stood up straight and snapped us all a clumsy salute.
“Thank you again for your service,” he said. “And good luck up there!”
Then he exited the shuttle before anyone could even return his salute. After he left, the ATHID Meadows was controlling turned to slap a large red button on the bulkhead. The shuttle’s doors slid closed with a pressurized hiss, barely audible over the growing roar of the engines.
“Strap in, recruits,” Meadows told us over his comm. “We’re cleared for departure.”