Colchis System
Taroll Star
Colchis Holy Word Army Main Flight Training Base
The air trembled faintly inside the vast domed hangar, carrying the distinctive scents of high-grade aviation fuel and coolant. Steady artificial daylight poured down from the towering latticed dome, sliced and reflected by the hard, cold lines of countless steel machines below, weaving them into a forest brimming with power.
"Attention!"
A sharp, booming command that brooked no argument rang out at the entrance to the central viewing aisle, which was wide enough to accommodate several cruisers.
Dozens of young recruits in standard Holy Word Army training uniforms, their shoulder boards blank, instinctively straightened their bodies and thrust out their chests, their eyes turning as one toward the source of the voice.
A lean, muscular middle-aged man with a conspicuous burn scar on his cheek stood at the head of the formation in a dark gray flight officer's service uniform, his hands behind his back, his posture as straight as a spear.
His hawklike eyes slowly swept across each still-youthful face, taking in their mingled excitement, nervousness, and longing.
He wore few decorations, but the small silver Insignia on his left breast, composed of crossed daggers and an eagle with spread wings, gleamed quietly and coldly in the light.
"All right, you little brats." The instructor did not speak loudly, yet his voice cut clearly through the surrounding noise, driving every word into the recruits' ears like a rivet.
"If you made it through all those rounds of screening and are standing on the floor of the Silverwing Ring instead of rotting in some hive city sewer, that means your reflexes, spatial awareness, and those pathetic simulator scores of yours barely met the Holy Word Army air corps' minimum entry requirements."
"So, welcome to the Colchis Holy Word