Merry Go Round

At times like these, it was only the stars that kept him from going insane from worry.  Structural integrity was a must for escape pods, so they were built to last, but the little window, one sided, that framed a black sea filled with bright dots was a sacrifice of utmost importance.  Studies showed that stress was three times higher without the thing, and it did the army no good if they got back soldiers who couldn't fight from fright and had to be fed.

Jason knew it more viscerally though.  While you were still in your fighter you had control.  Sure it was within a giant mess of chaos, blinking lights, explosions of bright lights, yelled com traffic, and the sound of your own heart beating like a hummingnird's wings, but it was something.  The drifting that he felt now was different.  Slowly the window would turn again towards the battle that still went on, little specks of light almost as small as the stars now.  He couldn't tell much from it anymore, just that the pace had slowed down.

So he floated there, waiting, thinking back on the battle.  His right rear thruster got shot out on the first pass over the hull.  That wasn't great, but he had backups, and he was one of the better pilots that they had.  The gimped propulsion system hurt, though, so he had to stay out of the heavy firefighting.  Sit back and take pot shots into the fray and hope he hit the right target.  It took longer than it should have for the enemy to close in and start sorting out the stragglers from the sidelines, chasing them down and around.  He should have gone for a docking bay, or just went back down planet-side to get out of it.  He was cocky, and Ron had two on his ass that he couldn't shake, so he had tried to be a hero.  Then three more popped up from below him, getting shots into the ship's drive and he was out.

The pods weren't manual, or at least most of them fired off before any normal man could get a hold of the manual override anyway.  When it worked, that is, which was about three quarters of the time.  It didn't help if the part that was supposed to boot you out got fried along with the rest of the ship's innards.  Anyway, out he went, watching the other half of his fighter float around out in the blackness, shiny metal fish darting around it, searching for their next prey.  The window was back out towards the stars now, little dots of blue, yellow, red, white.  So many of them.  A band of them showed the milky way across the sky.  A minute or so later the deep blue of the planet, half obscuring the solar system's star set the backdrop for the scattered flashes of light that were most likely the cleanup after the battle.

Some lucky fighter would scout the position of the escape pods and debris, then the cleaner ships would be up here to pull them out.  If they were friendly, that is.  If they weren't than they might just get swept away with the trash, or maybe even just left to float.  It had happened before, so the stories went.  Jason had long ago come to terms with the nature of the pod as a coffin.

No radio was aboard, just a recording device keyed to shut off if any army secrets were mentioned.  There wasn't enough room to get the pod away safely and put a jammer on that could stop much of anything, so prudent superior officers told their soldiers to just carry a book.  Depending on their views on the natural way of things, the choice was either obvious, or changed with the best seller's list.  He never took a book, though, just looked out at the stars.  More times than not he was one of the scouts reporting in after the battle.

As he turned once more, thinking back on what he should have done, could have done, will do next time, he caught a glimpse of a little silver fish coming in closer.  And then his pod kept turning.  No way to know.  For the next seven hundred turns, he just kept watching, waiting, looking out at the ever smaller blue sphere.

Who knew that space was peaceful enough to lull you to sleep?  He couldn't say how many more turns it took before he woke to the sound of metal on metal, his small pod bouncing on into the belly of some spacecraft or another.  The lock snapped shut, the systems webbed the pod to the floor, and when he popped his head out through the hatch, the warm sight of a dozen men with swords drawn and ready were perhaps the one thing that he wanted to see less than the slow turning of the stars against the black of space.

"Good Morning Soldier, we're here to offer you a deal," voiced a man from behind him.  Jason could practically hear the smug grin on his face.