Nugget

  Dennis Ingram

  Contents

  Copyright

  Introduction

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Afterword

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  NUGGET

  Copyright (c) 2016 by Imaginative Possibilities Limited

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

  Published by Imaginative Possibilities Limited.

  dennisingram.com

  Introduction

  Nugget is the first in a series of four short stories that trace the career of David Miller in the years before the Hope leaves for Tau Ceti.

  Acknowledgments

  This story is a small gift for my supporters, a thank you for signing up to my mailing list. I'm looking forward to completing the prequel shorts and hope you enjoy reading them.

  1

  David Miller bumped along the line of recruits, holding his brand-new seabag.

  The rating behind the counter thrust a package containing soap, shampoo, and shaving cream into his bag to join the growing pile of clothing and other accoutrements required by navy trainees.

  "NEXT!"

  Seeing he had come to the end of the line, David shuffled forward to join the cluster of recruits gathering in the muster hall.

  None of them had known what to expect when they signed up. To their dismay, they found themselves busted back to trainee status - and not just any trainee, either. When they'd transferred to the Navy, they'd at least expected Officer Candidate School. Instead, they had gotten sent to Naval Station Great Lakes, where the enlisted recruits went.

  David looked at his friend Andy Yardley, who shook his head. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

  Two months ago, they'd both been Air Force lieutenants, assigned to the 432d Wing based in Nevada. Although young, they'd already notched up a solid year of combat experience flying Reaper MQ-42 attack UAVs. They'd been near the top of the squadron leader board for performance - David for air-to-air combat and Andy for air-to-ground attack. They'd had a stellar career to look forward to, if only they'd stuck with it.

  If. A dangerous word, that one.

  What if they'd stayed in the Air Force? With their aptitude, they could see their way through to wearing stars one day.

  What if David hadn't spotted the ad from the Navy recruiter, offering a new career as a manned combat pilot?

  The Air Force didn't do manned fighter aircraft anymore.

  Once seen, it was impossible to forget. The idea teased his mind night and day. He'd shown it to Andy, and together they'd shot the breeze about what it meant. They could fly, really fly! Oh, for sure, modern VR controllers made it almost like being there - but they knew it wasn't, not for real.

  In the end, they had no choice. The Navy ad became a dare. Come fly like a real pilot, it said. Prove you've got what it takes. Come on, we double-dare you. Show us you've got the right stuff.

  They had to do it.

  * * *

  It seemed as if they were back to basic training all over again, an impression reinforced when they met their instructor, Chief Petty Officer Scott.

  Their first encounter with CPO Scott was not promising. He had them lined up in five ranks of ten. Fifty experienced UAV pilots from all the services, wondering what the hell they'd gotten themselves into.

  CPO Scott seemed to have an unfortunate impairment that left him slightly deaf. Not only did he have difficulty hearing what the recruits said, he didn't seem to realize he yelled when he spoke.

  He wasted no time on introductions.

  "For some reason beyond the comprehension of my limited intelligence, the United States of America has decided to entrust you bunch of pathetic screw ups with the duty of becoming an officer in the finest Navy the world has ever seen."

  Andy smirked, a mistake seized on by CPO Scott, who turned his attention to Andy like a hawk spotting a rodent. "Do you find me amusing, nugget?"

  Andy stiffened, his face revealing awareness of his mistake.

  "Sir, no sir!"

  CPO Scott's lip curled. "WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?"

  Andy's eyes flicked to CPO Scott's face for a split second. Another mistake.

  CPO Scott stepped so his face was only an inch from Andy's. "DID I SAY YOU COULD LOOK AT ME?"

  "Sir, no SIR!"

  CPO Scott stepped back. His eyebrows pulled together in a superb rendering of a man exhibiting extreme sorrow.

  "Oh, sweet Jesus, it's true." He shook his head. "The finest fighting force on the face of this planet has scraped the bottom of the barrel and SENT ME THE GODDAMN AIR FORCE!"

  Andy flinched as the end of the sentence was delivered to his face at close quarters.

  "WHAT IS YOUR NAME, RECRUIT?"

  "Yardley, sir."

  "I cannot hear you, recruit!"

  "YARDLEY, SIR!"

  CPO Scott stepped back and looked Andy up and down. Andy stared straight ahead at something a thousand yards behind CPO Scott.

  "DO I LOOK LIKE AN OFFICER TO YOU, RECRUIT LARDLEY?"

  Andy blushed at the insult. He did carry a few extra pounds. His eyes flicked of their own accord to the rank badges pinned to CPO Scott's collar.

  "WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME?"

  Andy had no idea how to reply, so pitched for the safest option of gazing into the distance.

  "FRONT LEANING REST POSITION, MOVE!"

  Andy did know what that was, and hastened to fall to a pushup position as fast as gravity would allow.

  "Sir, yes sir!"

  CPO Scott squatted next to Andy's head. "NOW HEAR THIS AND HEAR IT GOOD, LARDLEY. I AM A CHIEF PETTY OFFICER IN THE FINEST FIGHTING SERVICE ON THIS PLANET. I AM NOT A COMMISSIONED OFFICER - I WORK EVERY SINGLE DAY FOR MY PAY. DO YOU GET ME?"

  "SIR, YES SIR!"

  "GODDAMN IT, LARDLEY. TAKE YOUR GODDAMN AIR FORCE SIR SANDWICH, BUTTER IT BOTH SIDES AND CRAM IT UP YOUR AIR FORCE ASS!"

  "YES, SIR!"

  "START PUMPING THE GROUND, NOW!"

  Andy set to pumping pushups. CPO Scott watched, scowling, for a moment longer, then stood and addressed the group. "YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS CHIEF SCOTT AT ALL TIMES, DO YOU GET ME?"

  "YES, CHIEF SCOTT!"

  CPO Scott looked down at Andy, who started to slow.

  "PRETTY BOY, OUT HERE AND COUNTING!"

  It took David a second to realize he meant him, then he hastened to comply. He figured Andy had made ten pushups already, so started at eleven.

  "ELEVEN!"

  "START AT ONE!"

  "ONE!"

  "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

  David sucked in a breath and shouted louder. "TWO!"

  "START AGAIN!"

  "ONE!"

  "I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

  "ONE!" David shouted, even louder.

  This seemed to satisfy CPO Scott, who allowed him to continue.

  "TWO!"

  "THREE!"

  "FOUR!"

  By twenty, which was more like thirty-five, Andy tired and his rate slowed. David willed him to continue, fearing what might happen if he didn't.

  CPO Scott squatted down in front of Andy and regarded him, head cocked to one side. "It is truly distressing to think you were ever commissioned into any service anywhere, even if it was just the Air Force." He shook his head, sorrow written all over his face. "If you do not complete fifty pushups, everyone in your squad will be doing a hundred, and we will not stop until the entire squad does a hundred together."

  "THIRTY-FOUR!" David yelled.

  "FASTER!" CPO Scott yelled in Andy's ear.

  He caught Andy on pushing up, and his jump of surprise helped him keep pace.

  "THIRTY-NINE!"

  Andy's face turned beet-red and sweat poured down his nose, puddling on the tarmac. From somewhere he found a reserve of strength and willpower and finished.

  "FIFTY!"

  David finished his count and stood to attention. Andy collapsed on the ground.

  "DID I SAY YOU COULD STOP?"

  Andy's whole body shook as he fought to push himself up. "NO, CHIEF!"

  "ON YOUR FEET, RECRUIT!"

  Andy struggled to his feet and stood to attention, a river of sweat rolling down his face and soaking his shirt.

  "ALL OF YOU, ONE LAP AROUND THE PERIMETER, NO STOPPING AND NO SHORTCUTS!"

  They set off like startled jackrabbits, Andy joining at the rear.

  CPO Scott hurled one last promise after them as they left in a ragged group. "IF LARDLEY IS LAST YOU DO IT AGAIN!" He waited, hands clasped behind his back as they made their way around the field, pacing themselves so Andy stayed in the middle of the pack.

  "ATTEN'HUT!"

  They formed up in a line, standing to attention.

  Andy was so far gone he didn't seem to know where he was. This seemed to make CPO Scott very happy.

  "YOU ARE A PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A NAVY RECRUIT!" he informed Andy at close range.

  "YES, CHIEF!" Andy replied through a haze of sweat and agony.

  CPO Scott looked disappointed and completely unimpressed, but he stepped back and turned his attention to the entire group, clasping his hands behind his back.

  "LISTEN UP. THE UNITED STATES NAVY REQUIRES PILOTS WHO CAN FLY REAL AIRCRAFT. TO FLY A NAVY AIRPLANE YOU WILL REQUIRE MUSCLES. BECAUSE YOU ARE SOFT PUSSIES THAT SPEND YOUR TIME IN DARK ROOMS PLAYING WITH TOY AIRPLANES, YOU HAVE NO MUSCLES WORTH A DAMN."

  He glared at the recruits, his eyes searching for any victims who dared return his gaze.

  "MY SORRY TASK IS TO CORRECT THIS DEFICIENCY. WE BEGIN TOMORROW AT 0500. ARE THERE ANY QUESTIONS?"

  There were none.

  "DIS-MISSED!"

  2

  "Oh God, why?" Andy said, rubbing his calves. It was the end of another long, long day of physical training at the hands of CPO Scott, who seemed to be made of iron. Navy iron, by God.

  Two weeks had passed since Andy's unfortunate first encounter with their instructor, and Andy had remained his favorite ever since.

  "There must be a reason," David said. By now, his muscles had stopped hurting quite so much. CPO Scott had a genius talent for locating each and every muscle in his body and making sure not a day passed without one being pushed to the limit and beyond. "It must be good for us."

  "How?" Andy said, shaking his head. "How can this be good?"

  "We are getting stronger," David pointed out. He grinned. "Pretty soon, he'll have to stop calling you Lardley."

  Andy just looked at him. David laughed. His words carried some truth. A year of sitting down on the job and endless cans of soda had contributed to Andy piling on the weight. Now, with their combined extreme physical training and healthy diet, the excess fat was melting away.

  Andy sighed and struggled to his feet. "I'm heading for some rack time." He yawned. "With any luck he'll let us sleep until 0500."

  * * *

  The barracks door crashed open and the lights flicked on, the glare harsh.

  "EVERYBODY UP! GET UP! GET UP NOW!"

  A thump punctuated the turmoil as a recruit hit the ground after their mattress got flipped. David's feet hit the floor in double-quick time, his eyes wide open. He'd learned the first night the consequences of being slow out of his rack.

  By now everyone stood to attention, some nursing new bruises.

  CPO Scott stood facing them, flanked by the two petty officers who had helped spread the wake-up mayhem.

  A minute went by as he scanned their faces, looking for anyone willing to return his basilisk gaze.

  There were no takers.

  "Oh, happy day," he said at last, for once only speaking loud instead of shouting. "Oh, happy, happy day." He looked at David. "Do you know why I am so happy today, pretty boy?"

  David didn't flinch. If CPO Scott ragged Andy because of his weight, he got it because CPO Scott had decided he was too good-looking to be a Navy man.

  "No, chief!" He did his best to pitch his voice the same as Chief Scott's, picking the normal parade-ground yell wasn't required this time.

  Chief Scott clasped his hands behind his back and smiled, a terrifying sight. "Today is a happy day because it's the last day I have to see your ugly faces."

  Forty-four pairs of eyes widened. Could it be true?

  "I tried. I really tried, but for some cruel reason most of you are still here." He shook his head. "And today is your last day with me."

  Andy couldn't help it. One corner of his mouth quirked upward.

  Chief Scott noticed. "ARE YOU SMILING AT ME LARDLEY?"

  "NO, CHIEF!"

  "YOU SMILED AT ME, I SAW IT. I DON'T LIKE YOU SMILIN' AT ME. SMILIN' LEADS TO LIKIN' AND LIKIN' LEADS TO LOVIN' AND LOVIN' LEADS TO FUCKIN'." His mouth closed to an inch from Andy's face. "DO YOU WANT TO FUCK ME, RECRUIT?"

  Andy didn't need to fake the sincerity in his voice. "NO, CHIEF!"

  CPO Scott stepped back. David's eyes focused on a point on the wall far beyond CPO Scott, so he couldn't see any of the others. He'd bet a week's pay they were all struggling as much as he was to keep a straight face.

  "ALL RECRUITS FRONT LEANING REST POSITION, MOVE!"

  As one they hit the floor.

  "PUMP THE FLOOR, COUNTING."

  They started pushups.

  "ONE!"

  "TWO!"

  "THREE!"

  "HALT!"

  They stopped, some up, some down.

  "IN SEQUENCE!"

  They all dropped.

  "START AT ONE."

  They started over, everyone in sequence this time.

  CPO Scott smiled, joy seeming to bubble up from the very bottom of his soul.

  * * *

  CPO Scott had seen out seventeen of their number and tried his best to remove a few more on their last day. He didn't succeed. At the end of the day he sent them to shower and change then formed them up in three neat rows of eleven. In front of them stood a full Navy captain, flanked by CPO Scott and his two petty officers.

  "At ease."

  They all shifted in their stance, clasping hands behind backs.

  "I'm Captain Stacy, commander of the Navy Aviator Program." He smiled. "You're all no doubt wondering what you are doing here. Some of you are wondering if you've made a mistake transferring to the Navy, after what you've been through."

  CPO Scott remained impassive.

  "The truth is, this program is new. We haven't had the likes of you through our training programs for many years. The aircraft you will fly requires a level of physical fitness that hasn't been needed by the Navy, or any of our services, since the last century."

  He looked at the small group of men and women in front of him and nodded his head, liking what he saw.

  "Should you succeed in graduating from your full training course, you will be deployed to fly F-62 Avenger strike fighters from a Navy carrier group."

  A ripple spread through the group. For the first time, they'd received confirmation of what they'd suspected. They'd known, of course, they'd be flying aircraft. They'd guessed that, being Navy, it would be from a carrier. But they hadn't known for sure. Now they had discovered what aircraft they'd be flying. None of them had heard of the F-62.

  Captain Stacy read their minds.

  "The F-62 Avenger is an aircraft quite unlike any you've encountered before. I won't spoil the surprise for your flight instructors and give you details, but I will say this: the F-62 is the first aircraft for many decades with manual flight controls."

  He saw the light of comprehension dawning.

  "Yes, this is the real reason you are here. Only here at Great Lakes do we have the facilities to train you physically for this task." He looked at CPO Scott and his two assistants. "You owe Chief Scott a debt of gratitude for the transformation he has made in those of you that survived boot camp. You are now fit and strong, and capable of becoming the pilots we need you to be. Your most intense physical training is now over, but strength training will continue to be an important part of your daily routine for as long as you are on active service."

  He paused to smile.

  "Your boot camp is now over. Tomorrow you will be issued a two-day pass to visit family and friends. You will then report to flight school in Pensacola, Florida, to start flight training."

  He looked at Chief Scott.

  "ATTEN'HUT!"

  Thirty-three recruits snapped to attention.

  "DIS-MISSED."

  As one, they turned and marched back to their barracks.

  "So, how'd they do Chief?" Captain Stacey asked once they were out of earshot.

  None of the recruits would've believed the words that came out of Chief Scott's mouth in reply. "Fine, Sir, just fine. They'll do you proud."

  3

  Time had flown by, David thought, no pun intended. Flight school had been all he'd anticipated and more. The day after they'd arrived, their instructors introduced them to their T-22 trainers in the best possible way, urging them to take the front seat of the two-seater aircraft and taking them up for their first training flight. He'd filed that first takeoff away in the "never to be forgotten" corner of his mind. He'd flown drones many times, and the VR controller was almost like being there, right down to the seat moving to simulate the drones turning. But this! The push in his back from the acceleration, the roar of the jets, the vibration he felt in every part of his body, the sheer exhilaration as the jet lifted and the instructor pushed the throttles through the detent and engaged the afterburners. He couldn't help letting out a yell of exhilaration, a grin plastered on his face. Then suddenly he'd remembered where he was, but instead of a reprimand, he heard his instructor say: "This stuff never gets old!"

 

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