Chapter 11

A few months later Kayla was still slogging through her studies. Her focus on the task at hand left her blissfully unaware of the happenings of the base. While she focused on aerodynamics, the base grew around her.

The base, a comfortable by Air Force standards, replete with a golf course, fitness facility, and large Base Exchange, had left something to be desired when the pandemic and subsequent war had broken out. Its two virtues had been its location and the fact that USSTRACTCOM was housed there. Being at the center of the continent made it difficult to strike by ICBM and nearly impossible to strike by Bear bomber.

Shortly after people began finding refuge in the base and USSTRATCOM commander, General "Plunge" Feldman, now retired, had organized the populace and secured his base using every person available. At first, they could do no more than throw untrained citizens to the walls of the base in hopes of halting a ground attack. Kayla had first seen the base with a minimal chain-link fence manned twenty-four hours a day. Now, the base was encircled by fortified walls broken only by heavily armed bunkers at even intervals.

Kayla's student life sailed smoothly along as things like fortifications were the subject of much contention.

"Colonel Hansen, you have twenty three personnel that could be used to ease the manning issue," President Feldman's gruff voice carry across the table. His aide shuffled nervously behind him, a man who had been President Feldman's executive officer when they had been active duty. When General Feldman had retired, he had been immediately pushed to run for President and his exec had followed him into the civilian sector. He knew his boss and knew that this tone of voice was a warning sign of an impending blow out.

"Mr. President, I have twenty two future aviators who I'm cranking through academics at the most rapid rate possible given the number of aircraft and instructors I have to work with," Colonel Hansen, ignoring the restless shifting around him, pressed back.

President Feldman grunted, "Had to boot another one?" When Colonel Hansen nodded silently, he pressed on, "Look Bugger," Colonel Hansen winced at the use of his callsign, "you know the numbers. We have barely thirty thousand people on base and forty-seven posts to man, twenty-four seven. I've already authorized all kids sixteen and up to be pulled into duty but I'm coming up short if we're to keep other infrastructure going. All I'm asking is one day a week for each of them."

"Plunge," Colonel Hansen answered in retaliation, "one day now, and three days later? Where do I draw a line? I'm already running them as hard as I can, I'm afraid I'll have to boot more if I have to up their committed time anymore." He ran his hand over his thinning hair, "You remember what it was like. You sleep, you eat, you study, and one day, maybe, you fly. I've already had to boot nine of them, how many are you willing to lose?"

"Are they worth it?"

"They're promising," he answered vaguely.

"I need men, and women, I can trust. I need them to be loyal, smart, and able to hack it in the worst conditions."

"They're better than the first class, if that's what you're asking."

"Geez, you axed five in the final weeks!"

"We're better at weeding out the malingerers now, the ones who are only in it for fame and glory," he said with a disdainful eye roll.

"How many of them will be able to handle fighters?" Plunge ask, keen eyes narrowing.

"Going for the throat today, huh Plunge?" When the President nodded he answered, "Of the twenty two left, I will most likely cut another two. Of those nineteen," he paused, thinking, "maybe five. Maybe."

President Feldman sputtered, "Five? Five! What the hell, man? I can't sustain a fighting force, much less an Air Academy, if only five fighter graduate every year. I can't sustain an Air Force with nothing but heavy pilots! At this rate you're nothing more than a fucking self licking ice cream cone, only able to replace your own instructor core!"

He scrubbed his face and tried to reel in his temper. "I have more jets arriving from Davis-Monthan in a couple of weeks and I want to be able to provide a ratio of three pilots for every two jets. And now," he took a steadying breath, "you tell me I'm only getting five new pilots?"

"Yes," Colonel Hansen answered gravely, "fighters anyway."

"You need to crank out more, this is unacceptable."

"I heartily agree, but I can't push them through faster without training aircraft. Right now, they're soloing in their own plane. That takes hundreds of hours of classroom time if I can't get a simulator or training jet. Get me a few T-6s and I can cut the training time by a third. Get me a fleet of ten and I can cut it to a third," he paused. "That's what you need for it to be sustainable, right?"