‘You’re in the Attack team now, flying a fighter?’ I asked, eagerly.
He nodded. ‘I’m leading second shift. We launch at nine, and it takes us half an hour to crawl at an unthreatening pace into our positions and relieve the first shift. We’re main attack for four hours, then third shift relieve us and we dawdle back out to the portals again.’
‘Where do you launch from? Earth Africa solar array?’
‘No. We launch from here.’
I heard Fian mutter something, but I ignored him. ‘Zan! Fighters can fly in atmosphere?’
Drago laughed. ‘We’re flying ones designed for space. I wouldn’t want to do anything fancy with them in a gravity pit, but all we have to do is take them off the ground on hovers and dive straight through a portal into orbit.’
‘I’d love to see them,’ I said, wistfully. ‘I’ve only flown survey aircraft at the dig sites.’
‘You’re a pilot?’ Drago grinned. ‘I could take you over there one day and show you my fighter. You can see the pre-checks and watch us launch.’
‘Zan!’ I cried again.
‘Just stop there,’ interrupted Fian. ‘Jarra is Handicapped. She can’t portal off world, and she mustn’t take a fighter through a portal into orbit.’
‘I realize that,’ said Drago, giving him a bewildered look. ‘The whole base knows about the Artemis, and her Handicap, and I’d never suggest …’
‘You wouldn’t have to suggest anything,’ cut in Fian grimly, ‘I’ve seen it all before, and I know exactly what Jarra’s planning. The pre-checks one day, a ride as passenger the next, then she gets her hands on the controls and …’
‘Fian! I’m not completely stupid,’ I said, indignantly. ‘I know I can’t mess about near the alien sphere, so …’
‘So …’ he repeated. ‘Admit it. You wouldn’t go near the alien sphere, but you aren’t ruling out flying a fighter into orbit despite your Handicap.’
‘I know I can’t go to other worlds, but this would only be Earth orbit, and that’s really just like being on Earth.’
Fian shook his head. ‘Have any of the Handicapped ever tried it?’
‘For all we know, one of the men who went to the moon back in the twentieth century could have been Handicapped,’ I said. ‘Nobody knew this Handicap existed until the invention of the first interstellar portals, and after that only the Military went anywhere in Sol system other than Earth itself, because they do the things like running the solar arrays. I must be the first Handicapped in the Military, so …’
‘You mustn’t try it, Jarra,’ said Fian. ‘It would be utterly stupid to have your immune system fail when you’re in a fighter. You only have two minutes to get back to Earth before you die. I’ve scanned everything I could about it. Newborns have longer, because of the effect of their mother’s immune system, but you’d get a maximum of two minutes.’
I sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
Fian turned to a grazzed Drago. ‘You see what I have to cope with?’
Drago nodded. ‘Well, rides in my fighter are totally out of the question. If I can help with anything else, Jarra, then just ask. You’re not just one of my clan, but Jaxon’s baby sister as well.’ He paused. ‘Time for me to go.’
He stood up and shouted loudly. ‘Attack shift 2, pre-flight is in fifteen. Time to suit up.’
A lot of figures stood up and followed Drago out of the room. I didn’t bother counting them. There were sixteen fighters guarding the alien sphere at any one time, so there would be sixteen men and women on Attack shift 2. In half an hour, they would launch their ships through portals into Earth orbit. In an hour’s time, they would be in position, facing an alien craft of unknown abilities and intentions. Me, I was stuck here on Earth.
‘What did he mean, Jarra?’ asked Fian.
I was still wistfully staring at the door. ‘What about?’
‘Drago Tell Dramis said you were one of his clan. Did he mean clan as in Betan clan?’
My head snapped around to look at Fian so quickly that I felt giddy for a second. ‘He can’t have meant …’
I broke off, as my mind finally caught up with something. Drago’s name was Drago Tell Dramis. My name was Jarra Tell Morrath. The members of Betan clans always had the clan prefix somewhere in their name. I madly tapped at my forearm lookup, requesting information on the Tell clan, and stared numbly at the result.
‘Nuke that,’ I breathed.
‘You really belong to a Betan clan?’ asked Fian.