Free Scout Force by Rodney Smith

wingman.   John here is my wingman.”
           1LT Kanakis was a little shorter than Kelly, but was broader in the shoulders.   Kelly suspected he was a body builder.   The sleeves of his flight suit seemed unusually tight on his arms.
           “It’s great to have you aboard, Kelly.   I was starting to feel outnumbered by all these women.”
           CPT Willis sniffed and said, “Is that testosterone I’m smelling?   It smells kind of fruity, doesn’t it?”
           1LT Kanakis grabbed his chest like he’d been shot through the heart.   “Ow!   Cut down in my prime.   That’s gonna leave a mark.”
           CPT Willis walked off laughing, leaving the two of them together.
           “Kelly, you can take off that stupid hat now.   Once you get soaked you passed the initiation.   Of course, you have to keep it in your cabin and take care of it until the next squab is initiated.   There is one other requirement.   As the junior lieutenant in the squadron, you have to wear it at any Squadron dining-ins until you can pass it off to the next newbie.   Of course, embarked on the Bolivar, we probably won’t have any dining-ins.   Lack of dining space and alcohol keeps those events to a minimum.”   John raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, and shrugged his shoulders.
           “You’re coming into a good unit.   The old man is probably the finest fighter pilot in the Fighter Force.   He’s not a stickler for military discipline, but it’s best not to push too far in that direction.”
           Kelly’s stomach rumbled and he realized he hadn’t eaten since he came on board much earlier that day.   He turned to LT Kanakis and said, “Hey John, I don’t mean to cut you off, but I’m starving.   I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
           LT Kanakis looked at Kelly like he was seeing him for the first time and said, “Oh I’m sorry, grab the ancient ceremonial hat and follow me.”
           They walked out of the wardroom into the passageway and turned right.   The next large compartment down the passageway was one of the six dining rooms on the Bolivar, and the one most often used by the Carrier Fighter Wing.
           “If you are hungry, this is the best dining room on the Bolivar.   Our mess crew runs this facility and they tend to be a bit more creative in their menu than the other dining rooms.   Of course, the downside of this is that the senior officers of the ship tend to favor us with their presence a lot.   If you are a lot hungry, go to the steam table.   They usually have a couple of plates to choose from.”
           Kelly went to the steam table as John had suggested and found fried chicken and something that looked like a giant snail.   He erred on the side of familiarity, chose the chicken, added a side of potatoes, and some sort of greens.   LT Kanakis chose the giant snail-looking thing, corn and sautéed mushrooms.   They both got tea at the drink counter and found a table.
           “Kelly, you’re going to love the F-53.   These are the models with extendable wings for atmospheric flight, as well as space flight.   We don’t get much practice at atmospheric flight, though.   I did it once when we passed through an uninhabited system a few months back.   It felt funny after having done so much flying in open space.   It took me a while to remember how to allow for crosswinds and gusts on landing.”
           “These F-53s are great.   The flight computer gives you so much added flexibility.   The computer can take over some of the routine tasks, leaving you free to concentrate on critical tasks like combat, landings, and takeoffs.   Mine has quite a personality.   I call mine Ben.   You can make yours anything you want–male, female, or machine voice.   It’s just like having a copilot along with you.   On long patrols, you can even turn over the flight controls to it and