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Matt Dryson
Age: 24
Parents: Deceased
Relatives: Johnathan Dryson - Liberty Navy Courier (Deceased)
Criminal Record: Clean
Flight Record: 513 hours flight time(non-autopilot), 3 minor accidents(paid for)
Physical: Fit. 5'9", 210 lbs. blond Hair, Green Eyes




Matthew Dryson stood in front of a starflier, examining it critically. It was better outfitted than most, with an upgraded shield and better weapon systems. He looked at the mechanic who was busy at a mobile console next to the flier.

"Is she ready to fly?" he asked as he approached the old grease monkey.

"Ready? Heck, I almost have to tie the darn thing down. Your brother left you a pristine ship considering it's age."

"It helped that he never really flew it once he got a hold of his Rhino." He took a moment to think about that block of a ship. Tough, always outfitted with the best defensive options and often carrying a potent offensive load-out. "I still can't figure how they were able to bring him down so fast...He was a good pilot, and he kept his ship in top form for the Navy."

The mechanic piped up grimly. "Pirates are only pirates because they are good at what they do: exploiting weaknesses. Remember that Matt, or they'll one day have your head too. Don't do anything foolish like make some vendetta over this. Too many of those already."

Matthew grimaced, then glared a little harder than he really needed to.

"The Rogues organized a jump on my brother and they murdered him. I'm not going to sit back and not do anything."

He stopped and took a breath, the scowl leaving his youthful features. His brother had said the same thing to him a long time ago. "They beat you up and took a few creds off of you. Think for once and don't go making some foolish vendetta. You'll just get yourself hurt." When he spoke again, it was with a softer tone, partly filled with concession.

"Still, I won't go taking on the whole lot of them....but as soon as the LPI have a bead on the guy who put it together he's mine. I already talked to Kim about it. And to top it off I made friends with some of Johnathan's contacts. A certain officer at West Point for starters. I think I might go and see her soon. She could point me in the right direction as far as taking these guys on."

Bart wiped his brow. It was a little hot in the shop today. Maybe it was all the youthful impetuousness. "Well I suppose I'll have to settle with not taking a personal mission to kill yourself fighting the whole of the Liberty underworld." He grinned at his young friend. "You've been going over the tech manuals I've sent you right? And taken a swing through the simulator again? Going star-side rusty isn't good for your health. All that movement will give you an ulcer." His thick chuckle filled the maintenance bay.

Matt grinned. "Yeah, I went over them. Don't worry, I won't go swapping out a perfectly good graviton shield in laser town. As for flying, I'm ready." His voice was thick with confidence and determination. He'd always been a natural in fighters, but his brother had never really needed him as escort, plus they couldn't really manage the operating cost of a second ship. Too bad the police escort hadn't proved a match to the assortment of criminals who'd attacked his brother's convoy.

"Well I'm gonna go make my final round before heading up. Call me when she's ready." Dryson nodded to the mechanic and walked out of the bay.

2 hours later.

He punched the side of the cockpit. He couldn't believe it. They knew who he was, but weren't going after him. Kim had found out the guy's ID, but the police weren't going after him yet; and they didn't care that his brother, a Navy courier, had been killed in the action. Well to hell with the LPI. Kim was all the contact he needed with them anyway. He'd go to the Navy instead. 'Count on the professionals for the professional response' he thought as he cruised for the trade ring to West Point.

Pam Armstrong, Captain in the Liberty Navy shook his hand slowly.

"I'm sorry about Johnathan, Matt. He was a good friend to me and the Navy."

Pam had been John's controller on over 2 dozen missions in Liberty. She was a good friend of the family now; especially after John had chased off a Corsair raiding party in the border systems when things got too hot for Pam and her wing. Matt put a hand on the woman's shoulder when he saw a wave of sadness wash through her eyes. She'd been close to John. Maybe too close now that he was gone.

"What do you have on who did this to us?"

She looked a little surprised that he used the word 'us', but she smiled softly before taking a breath and composing her stern, officer attitude.

"Not much. I can tell you that John wasn't carrying H-Fuel though, he was transporting a military optronics suite prototype to be installed in one of our gunboats for testing."

Matt's eyes widened a bit. "Sounds like something the Lane Hackers would be after. So the LPI haven't given over the names and IDs of the pilots yet?" Armstrong shook her head slowly, a look of annoyance passing after an instant. Matt sighed. "Kim said things might be wrapped up tight. Looks like the district Lt Commander wants to push as much of this under the rug as he can."

Pam waved her hand, as though clearing the air of a foul oder. "No surprise, they really botched this for us. We only gave escort duty to the police because one of theirs with pull on the commander of the Missouri asked, and we thought it would help if it looked like a police convoy instead of a high profile Navy shipment."

Matt ran his hands through his messy blond hair. "Well they'll be hard to deal with as far as getting anything meaningful out of them. Luckily Kim's more police officer than LPI employee if you understand my drift." He reached into his jacket and pushed a pad onto the table. "There's the name, ship ID, and a short profile on him. Apparently he's an independent pirate."

Pam took the pad and read it over carefully. She'd heard about this one. "It's consistent with our reports on him. Joshua Brelani. He's got about half a dozen aliases, but he always flies a Wolfhound heavy fighter. He slips between pirate circles gaining influence in hopes of making his own pirate clan. If he was behind this, your Hacker guess wasn't far off. With Hacker support, he could make a lot of headway towards his goal."

The youth leaned forward in his seat. "So you think he attacked the convoy with his potential allies, and stole the optronics to give to the Lane Hackers?" She nodded as she scrolled down the pad, making several additions. "Well this guy isn't some small fry that should be ignored. Do the police know this much?"

Pam shrugged. "I really couldn't tell you. We both have a file on him but what we share isn't always the same. We've told the Manhattan and LA police that we want him bad, but they've never caught him, and we never disclosed full details besides a list of enough offenses to keep him in their hot list."

Dryson slumped back in his chair. "Talk about complicated."

Pam interjected quickly: "It's just the protocols. We're a government military; and while we trust the police, the protocols were written with the facts in mind. LPI is a business. They're basically a highly advanced and permanently aligned mercenary unit; but they are still an economic entity first. We have to be careful to keep sensitive Naval intel secure."

He nodded. "You don't have to justify comm protocol to me. So now that we have our full profile on this guy, what do we do?"

Pam sat back and thought for a while. "Sending you out on an official head hunting mission would stress things between the Navy and LPI on this point. It's best if we don't do that. We need to form a cohesive front between military and domestic security, especially with the diplomatic situation with the other houses...What I can do is authorize a Defender heavy fighter, and I can give you back this pad, which is rightfully yours of course."

She slid the pad back with a wink. On it was additional information on Brelani and an requisition and authorization form for a Liberty heavy fighter.

She grinned ever so slightly. "Ever since the new line of VHF's came out, the Defender is less in demand. Many are being mothballed for parts for the new craft and for maintaining the patrol fleet. They shouldn't give you any trouble about selling you one, though you'll have to pay the full worth of the fighter."

Matt smiled. The new ship would be a great boon. The flier just wasn't equipped for what he had in mind. "Thanks Pam, you're a life saver. I'll let you know what I find, and if I'm lucky I'll bring you back a few things for your trouble."

He departed West Point and headed for the Norfolk shipyard, where Battleship Missouri had a fresh heavy fighter waiting for him.

Bart about took Matt's head off with that punch. The tall, broad mechanic landed the fist right on top of the young man's head like a block of duracrete.

"You dunderhead! You pull me out of retirement like that again and I swear I'll put you INTO it permanently!"

Dryson's head rang from the blow and the shouts. He'd barely cleared medical on Manhattan when he got a fist to the head. Heck of a welcome back.

"Geez Bart, take it easy, you'll break everything the Rhinelander's didn't if you keep that up."

"It'd serve you right. I got my butt shot up by 3 squadrons of Rogues today while I was out looking for you and trying to get what I needed to chase down that RM pilot. You're Lucky the good lieutenant brought you back safe and sound. You may have been floating in a Rhineland interrogation facility if it weren't for him."

Bart stopped and took a few deep breaths.

"So where's your ship?"

"Being repaired aboard the Missouri. They're doing it free of charge since I was acting as a Navy contractor at the time and I nearly died chasing a dangerous craft on my own. Nice of them considering how many times I've blown it for them. I'm not really cut out for what John did."

Matt's voice trailed off as he stared at the Startracker Bart had landed a few minutes ago. It was true. He'd blown every mission the Navy sent him on accept a single one where Vape did all the work.

Bart spoke up. "I wouldn't go that far kid. Vape had a lot of complementary things to say about your flying. He thinks your good, and for a commissioned Navy flier to think that, you must have at least one trick he hadn't seen before. You had a run of bad luck, and you need better equipment. Keep making friends in the military, they'll help you. Remember, John didn't fly alone, so you shouldn't feel bad that you need help too."

Matt nodded slowly. "John always did talk about all the others who helped him...I guess I'll just give it another go. It'd be a waste if I didn't try; especially since I don't have Brelani taken down yet. I at least have to finish that."

Bart grinned. "About time you nailed that man to a wall I think. Run a few missions with the Navy guys. There are several out today. I'll be watching your back." Bart waved a small pad. "I linked up your fighter's nav and imaging system to my mainframe last time you landed here. It's how I tracked the Valkyrie down. I'll be keeping an eye on your progress."

Matt went slightly wide eyed. "You really do know your way around ships. Well I better go, transport leaves in a few minutes. I'll need to catch it if I'm gonna see the inside of my cockpit today."

Bart nodded as Matt walked out. Maybe he'd be going up again too. He didn't want to admit it yet, but he had fun out there, and the idea of having a decent ship to take out for important jobs appealed to him. He eyed the bluebell atop the tracker. He had a few ideas. Without another thought he pulled out his tools and started pulling apart the Justice MKIIs on the sides of the hull. He'd show the Rogues they weren't the only weapon experts in New York.

Matt laid in a Ft Bush infirmary bed. The surgeons worked fast, sorting his guts from the shrapnel and burned ruin that used to be body parts. They pulled men and women apart and put them back together again like Bart did to ships. If it weren't for Dunyain sneaking some med nanos into his cockpit before the Rogue fighters forced them to break the umbilical line, Matt would have probably been too far gone for the medical experts to save.

3rd degree burns covered 15% of his body, 2nd degree another 42. His liver was punctured by a chunk of his cockpit frame, his lungs were collapsed from exposure to gas and vacuum, his heart had stopped 4 times since he was fired on, and he had a small brain hemorrhage in his cerebellum from the flat spin away from Ft Bush. This didn't count the broken leg, severed shoulder muscles in the right arm, 32 lacerations and 8 bruised bones. In 10 minutes he'd suffered enough injury that his nervous system was on the verge of shut down and he almost died a total of 8 times while awaiting evac and surgery.

Bart stood by the OR window watching them pull the insides out of the man he'd started thinking of like a young brother. He could hardly recognize the young man's face. Half of it was scorched shut. Captain Armstrong walked up next to him; her hand shooting to suppress a gasp when she saw Dryson. Tough woman, but not tough enough for some sights.

She coughed lightly, trying to hide the gesture of shock. He wished she wouldn't maintain her composure. It wasn't needed around him.

"How is he?" asked the officer.

"They say he'll make it. A few hours of focused treatment and he'll be alright."

Bart's words were deadpan and cold. He looked intent, but at the same time detached. For over a minute they stood in silence.

"Damn it Bart say something..." A tense, unguarded tone laced the words with her worry and her anxiety about what was happening.

"What should I say Pam? The captain of a Naval Cruiser just about murdered him a few times over. It's a miracle he's still alive, especially after Brelani's men ambushed him and Dunyain out past Ft Bush." Finally Bart's voice broke into anger as he spoke.

Pam nodded slowly. "I wish I knew something...Anything. But this is so much. So soon after John..." She couldn't finish that sentence. She opened her mouth twice, but she couldn't force out words, so she stopped trying and held her arms in a cradle for her own self. She couldn't bring herself to say any word about death with Matt laying in pieces in front of them.

"I have evidence. I'll be turning it over to Dunyain in half an hour. That's all we can do. The water, oxygen, and hull fragments that were salvaged from the fighter have weapon signatures on them. They don't match anything on my computer, but if they're Navy cannons it'll lead right to a Navy ship if the LN runs an analysis on them. On top of that I have my computer files from the tracking equipment I wired into the Defender and the black box that ejected with Matt's pod. There's image evidence of the confrontation. None of the actual firing, but we have eye witnesses for that...I even managed to get some of the fuel from his ship for them to test. Anything to catch the nut who did this."

Pam looked surprised. She hadn't known Bart would have that sort of knowledge. Sure he was a mechanic but that was an awful lot of evidence gathering for only so many minutes.

"How did you....."

He turned and gave her a hard look, not telling her to stop asking but getting that result anyway. Suddenly she realized how grizzled he looked, despite only being 37 and in great health. There was just a part of his stance, the look in his eye, the harsh curl of his lip that made him look much older and more weathered.

"Do whatever you can. I'll let you know what I hear."

"Keep your head down. It's a dangerous day to be poking your nose out. It got our boy shot. Being a captain won't help you any if someone tosses the rule book and starts pointing a cannon at your head shouting treason."

For a minute she looked shocked at the very idea. She stopped just short of a vocal protest when she thought twice and decided Bart was absolutely right. Her shoulders slumped and her head sank. It was sinking in just how wrong this whole situation was.

"I hate to say it, but you're right.....They'd better ace this guy, and fast...No one hurts my students."

Bart raised en eyebrow.

"Didn't he tell you Bart? He enrolled at West Point to finish his training from 3 years ago. He just made ID status yesterday.....T-top marks-s."

Her voice cracked and she turned and left swiftly, eyes shut tight and hand trembling at her lip. She silently cursed herself for showing that weakness, but after thinking of the broad smile Dryson had worn just yesterday and looking at him now, it about put her in a hospital bed herself.

Bart looked down as they pulled out the last chunk of burned organs. For the first time since he got here he had to choke back vomit, but he couldn't choke back the growl that came after...

Dryson sat silently in his Guardian's cockpit. It'd been 2 months since Vape and his other Naval pilot friends had wrangled an advanced fighter for him to fly. The load-out was never quite right but it was a far sight better than the other ships he'd flown as far as protection.

Like he needed it.

Ever since the incident with the Liberty Assault Cruiser and the treason investigations, they'd had him running patrols in nugget space to the halfway points of the West Point lanes and back to base. A bloodhound now and again, but never anything serious. They didn't want to take him and his 2 kitted out Defender wing men on in their LFs. The most action he ever got was the occasional rescue of life pods when someone crashed or an odd Rogue attack came out. Aside from that, they just wanted to keep him out of anyone's cross hairs it seemed.

Pam was on station in Virginia now, unable to help him. His leave was almost nil, and it was obvious they wanted an eye on him. His willingness to arm a torpedo launcher while staring down a Liberty Naval Cruiser had apparently damaged his credibility with his superiors, despite the apparent bravery of the deed. Still, he never argued.

'It's just a rough patch you'll need to slog through till you hit a break.'

Bart had told him that. He occasionally saw the man, but Bart was busy tracking for someone. At first he thought it was Brelani he was after, but then it seemed like Bart was just going all over for someone, but he'd never say who. It was frustrating, but there was time.

Time....time for Brelani to secure himself, time for him to fortify his forces and abandon the need to appear in the open where he could be hunted down.

Dryson's lip curled as he sat forward, rolling his reg manual tight in his fist and taking the stick again. The burden of naval duty was getting to him. He had to find a lead. It was time to head to Virginia.

He kicked his thrusters to maximum and bolted away from his escorts.

"Where the hell are you going boss?!"
"Hey! Come back here!"

The nuggets were good, but they didn't turn in time to match his course. He was out of CD range before they knew it.

"Bogey's sighted, I'm laying in a pursuit course. Get your butts back to base!"

One of them cut engines and did as he was told. The other brought the West Point flight controller up on the comms.

Dryson clicked his comm channel over to the base as it hailed him.

"Flight Lead Dryson, you are ordered to bring your ship about and RTB, do you understand? Return to Base Dryson!"

"No can do, I'm already engaged."

Luckily for him it was true. 3 Bloodhounds had come up on his 6 and he was headed into the Badlands. He dropped off sensors. West Point ordered his wing men back home and dispatched a Defender squad of proper defense pilots.

Dryson just kept flying. He needed a way to Texas so he could get to Virginia. Luckily he knew a little place. A jumphole was around the lower sectors of the badlands. It always spat out into Texas, so Matt marked it down and went looking for it. He crept through the asteroids, dodging patrols, when an ace spotted him. He kicked on his cruise and ran like hell, Rogue and soon Outcast ships breathing hot death in his direction.

The jumphole came up on his scanners, but what hadn't been there the other time he had been there was a pair of Rogue Gunboats guarding it. They opened up on him with their turrets and minced his shield. He rolled hard and down to get out of fire, but the side turrets tracked him. A pair of missiles streaked towards him. He hit his thruster and rocketed to the jumphole, jinking his craft as it rattled and groaned from weapon impacts.

"This is the worst idea I've ever had!"

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The Texas debris fields filled his vision. He looked around to see a Junker ship pass by, but it didn't look interested in him. His shields slowly recharged and he pushed his throttle up to cruise speed again, taking an odd vector away from the hole. He was never, ever using that path for as long as he lived. He'd had no idea Rogues had been using that jumphole. He remembered one of his instructors' words. 'Jump holes are dangerous to you and your ship. The energy in them is unstable, and more than that, they are often swarmed by outlaws using them as navigational buoys within the system. Taking them is like playing roulette with a fully loaded gun.' Last time he'd doubt that instructor, Matt was damn sure of that. He doused a small fire in the back of the cockpit and set his course for the Virginia system. Time to call up an old friend again.

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Pam about slapped him. She only stopped because she hadn't seen him since he was in the OR those many weeks ago. Seeing him in good health was something she had needed.

"Sorry to drop in on you like this Captain, but I got myself into quite a hangup with the Rogues. I can't believe I managed to fall into your lap."

She looked at him sternly. "Quite right Ensign, lucky indeed. I heard you gave the West Point nuggets quite a shock when you took off after...what was it that caught your eye again?" Her tone had turned suspicious and very accusing, feeling that he had not broken formation for any reason but his own.

"A Rogue freighter and it's Wolfhound escort." He'd gotten his story straight on the ride here, reviewing his sensor logs of what he found in the badlands. That seemed like a suitably high profile target for his actions, and the sensors would back up that he found them, even if he couldn't engage because of LF harassment. "They looked like they were up to no good, so I went after them in the hopes of dissuading further Rogue traffic."

She looked at him hard. She knew he was giving her a steaming load, but she also knew the moment they were away from prying eyes and ears, he'd give her the real story. "Well Ensign, come and give me your report. Your ship will be in the maintenance bay a while longer."

They walked through the cold base. It was built in an ice asteroid, similar to Station Willard and other such bases. This one was the new top notch training facility for ace pilots. Soon they entered her office.

"Alright Matt, the truth, right now." Her voice was hard and annoyed. Suddenly he regretted some of his hastiness.

"What could it be at this point? Brelani. I've been doing nugget flights and milk runs for months now, I can't take this. They won't even give me basic missions anymore. I'm at my wit's end but the Navy are my only friends and my only way to Brelani, so I can't resign despite their suspicion of me. I need your help, I need you to point me in a direction that can get me back in with the higher ups enough to start sniffing out his trail again. With the Rogue's Mafia and the other pirate groups stepping up ops, it won't be long before we're either too busy to find him or he becomes well enough seated that he'll be as easy to track as the Attitude Adjuster."

Armstrong sighed. She sat for a minute and reviewed his recent file. She hadn't had time to keep up on his situation recently, but saw an insulting list of assignments that just barely kept him in the flight seat, but not much more. As an ace and his teacher, she felt a swell of annoyance for the squandering of her student's ship and his ability. With the situations in northern Sirius degrading and the Rheinland problem looming closer with every day, she saw a need to get involved, simply because they needed good pilots in good ships doing important work, not running errands for the local bureaucrats. Then there was Brelani. The Attitude Adjuster was a ship that could seemingly never be found when it felt it should be that way, and Joshua Brelani being that hard to track grated on her nerve as well. The man had to pay for what he'd done and what they'd all been through because of him.

"Alright Matt, how about I toss you a bone, but only if you promise, Promise me that you won't pull another stunt. I may be 26 but it's still not good for my heart to see you slipping past death by only so many microns every other day."

Matt nodded. "I'll try my best Cptain, but you know skating the edge is the only way I've been able to get anything done so far, so you'll have to bare with me when it comes time for that risky set of tactics."

She set her pad down and nodded, uncrossing her legs and folding her hands on the desk.

"I'll get you on the active rotation again if you can pull off a little favor for me. There's a student at West Point who I've been trying to get transferred here. He's the wing man you've been flying with for the last several weeks. Get me Leo Albion and you've got yourself a deal."

"Leo?" The kid who hadn't dropped off his tail. They were about the same age, and Leo was a hell of a dogged pilot, but he didn't quite understand. "Why is that such a big favor?"

"Because the uncle who raised him turned Hacker, so the current administrator of personnel at the Point won't give him to me. Says he's a risk. But I met him and I knew his parents. He's got piloting in his blood and he's more like his father than anyone. I could make him just as good as you are, and I want the best here. I know Leo will be out-flying some of the kids here without too much time....and besides...If it hits the fan, I want to be able to pull the best to my assignment. If the best are my former students, I'll be in a good position and the ranks won't work against my requests as much."

Matt looked surprised. She really had the politics of this down. Still though, what was she expecting...?

"Alright, I'll do it....but I have to ask, do you think something is going to happen that will put you on front line duty?"

"Maybe. Too early to say, but things are tense and if it goes to hell, I'll be ready."

Dryson left Virginia thinking about those words.

Dryson throttled back his engines and came to a stop in the West Point docks. There was a fight happening not far away, and everyone was on alert. His computer system had frozen up of all things, so he had to set down. The crewmen busily tried to get his computer operational again. Suddenly the 4mil credit he'd earned with the navy for catching a smuggler red handed felt a little empty as the station bustled and blared with combat activities. Matt looked around, trying to get tabs on things. He saw the squadron leader walking towards him.

"Dryson, I don't care what happened before, you need to be space side, now!" The chiseled pilot ace pointed hard at the Guardian as the techs swarmed over it.

"Soon as the techs give me a go sir! I need my wing man though. Where's Ensign Junior Grade Albion?"

The flight chief pointed to a Defender getting prepped for launch. They were loading the missile cartridges for the slingshot and windstalker launchers. Leo's position in formation was fire support, and his missiles helped when facing down groups of targets. Even against bigger, better ships, Leo's missile salvos were a great supplement to the assaults of Matt's Guardian.

"Hey boss! Good to see you made it back alive!" Leo strode towards his superiors with a harried look on his face. "My ship's ready for launch in 3 minutes sirs."

Dryson shouted over to the techs working on his own fighter. One of them lifted 5 fingers to indicate a 5 minute ETA to launch status. He nodded and looked at the squadron commander. "What's the plan sir?"

Commander Killian looked at the two ensigns. He may not have liked Dryson's cavalier style, but the boy found a way to be useful. Leo was more by the book, but his daring tended to get him into hot situations, which was both good and bad. They were two very promising cases.

"Albion, you will fly Dryson's wing. Because of Cadet Gentle's inexperience, he won't join you on this one. You two go out and form up with the other fighters and make yourselves useful to the ace commander. I'll coordinate the defender wings from here and try to keep additional hostiles from slipping into our defenses."

The two gave a quick nod and salute before darting off to their respective craft. This was gonna be hairy, but they both knew it was a task they were up for.

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Matt and Leo sat in the bar of the academy, surrounded by cheerful pilots, along with a few more solemn faces. They'd lost a few ships in the fray, and a couple nice people weren't going to come back from the space they'd departed into. But largely, the op had been a success. The ace commander set the Defender patrol under Dryson and ordered them to run interference while the Lieutenants and Captains in their fully outfitted ships took on the serious threats. Of the 12 fighters in Dryson's squadron, all of them made it back alive, though some were in worse shape than others.

Spirits were high and Matthew Dryson, Leo Albion, and Shane Gentle all sat at their favorite table sharing the mood. Gentle had broken protocol and jumped into a Defender when the going got rough and one of the pilots had to make a crash landing. The extra ship brought Matt's team to strength and was a boon on the battlefield. Despite some disciplinary action, all three were in for a net gain in reputation and privilege. They'd gained quite a bit of attention for the mostly professional and wholly heroic flying. Still, Matt had a lot on his mind.

"Listen Leo, I didn't come back just to nest my ship. Someone asked me a favor."

Leo raised an eyebrow at his field commander. "And why are you tellin' me this sir?" Matt rolled his eyes as he often did when Leo said sir while in the pilots watering hole. "Well Leo, a friend of mine wants to offer you a position in her training wing. Captain Armstrong wants you to join the ace training facility she instructs at. If you're interested, I can put in a word as your CO and she'll pull a string or two to get you transferred. If you wana be the best, you should go there I think."

Leo sat for a little while mulling it over. The ace training facility was a dream for most cadets. It was a top secret place in a secret location. No one knew anything about it besides the best pilots went there, and came out the highest ranked and most highly skilled fliers in the Navy.

Gentle prodded Leo. "Come on mate, you gonna pass up something like that?!"

Albion grinned at the Bretonian born rookie of their little group and nodded. "You're right, I can't pass this up. But I only wana go if you two come with me. We've been a team for months now, and we are best together."

Dryson took a swig of his drink and grinned. "I can probably fly with you. I am friends with your CO to be. I'll ask about you Shane. You're good, and the stunt you pulled out in that furball was original and crafty. She'll like it, so maybe, just maybe we can take our trio on the road."

The three clinked their glasses together and took a drink.

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Pam smiled as she read the reports. She hadn't expected Dryson to put in for a transfer. For all his trouble, the Point commander suddenly was reluctant to lose him on his list of pilots. Albion was a tough sell, but in the end, Dryson's steadfast insistence that they be transferred as a tight wing even got Shane Gentle a green light from the Point. She thumbed over the battle reports of Dryson and his crew. They'd done a bang up job cleaning up Outcast and Rogue forces in the area and keeping the ace's clear of interference in yesterdays sortie. This Gentle fellow sounded like he might be her kind of pilot as well; and though he was very inexperienced compared to her other two favorites of the academy, she liked the idea of raising a pilot from the ground up in this place. Flying with more skilled pilots in tougher scenarios from the earlier stages might prove very effective for the daring young pilots Albion and Gentle. And Dryson was just the man to lead them through, keeping spirits high and his boys alive.

She scanned her thumb print to approve the transfer and leaned back. Somehow she wasn't surprised Dryson had come through, but she was glad he'd raised the bar. It seemed like he was falling into the Navy camaraderie well, and it made her very glad.