Wing Commander (novelization) Chapter 17
| Chapter 17 | |
|---|---|
| |
| Book | Wing Commander |
| Parts | 2 |
| Previous | Chapter 16 |
| Next | Chapter 18 |
| Pages | 127-131 |
Dramatis Personae
Text
| UNITED CONFEDERATION CARRIER TIGER CLAW |
| ULYSSES CORRIDOR |
| MARCH 17, 2654 0530 HOURS ZULU TIME |
| 7.5 HOURS FROM CHARYBDIS QUASAR JUMP POINT |
Part One
Blair finished a walkaround inspection of his Rapier, then joined the other pilots milling about the flight line, waiting for Lieutenant Commander Deveraux.
The nearby lift doors opened, exposing Maniac and Forbes, both still pulling on their uniforms. They hustled out of the lift as the others guffawed--all except Blair.
"Targets locked," he muttered, then set his jaw and marched toward Maniac. "Did you change the lock code?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The lock code on our hatch? I couldn't get in." He scowled at Forbes. "And I heard laughing from inside, but no one would answer."
Maniac slapped a paw on his shoulder. "Someday, Blair, you're gonna look back and say, 'God, I wish I'd been him.'"
"Some day, I'm going to look back and--"
"Ten-hut!" Knight shouted.
Blair abandoned his retort and scrambled to the line with the other jocks. They assumed the pose as Lieutenant Commander Deveraux walked down the row, her face unreadable. "All right, ladies, listen up. We have a ConCom with escorts. That means two, possibly three Ralari-class destroyers with their fighters and support ships. Primary target is the ConCom. Everything else is gravy." She paused before Blair. "Let's make 'em bleed. Mount up!"
The group dispersed, and Maniac said, "I'm feeling good today!"
"Try to keep your mind on the Kilrathi there, Maniac."
"C'mon, Blair," Maniac whined. "Be realistic ..."
Though he hated to admit it, Blair did feel a pang of jealousy over Maniac's skill with women and fighters. But he felt even more jealous over Maniac's ability to turn fear into a source of amusement. Maniac flitted blithely through his life, neither suffering it nor apologizing for anything he did. People loved him. People loathed him. He couldn't care less.
Blair started for his fighter, passing Hunter, who, as usual, champed his cigar and brushed that long hair out of his face. Blair thought of wishing the man luck, but as he looked up, he saw how Hunter made a point of ignoring him, so he headed straight for his cockpit ladder.
"Blair," Deveraux called out. "Take Hunter's wing."
"I got his wing, ma'am."
Failing to remove his cigar, Hunter said, "Ma'am, I'd just as soon you assign me another wingman."
Deveraux came toward Hunter, who had inadvertently stoked the fire in her eyes. "You have some problem I should be aware of, Hunter?"
The big Australian sneered at Blair. "Yes, ma'am, I do. I don't fly with Pilgrims."
"Then maybe you don't fly at all."
"Ma'am, there might be over a hundred pilots assigned to this bucket, but I think you want me for this op. We both know that."
With disgust all but dripping from her face, Deveraux thought a second, then said, "Blair. You'll fly my wing."
"Are you sure about that?" he asked.
Her eyes snapped wide. "Did I just give you a suggestion or an order?"
"I got your wing, ma'am."
She tossed an ugly look in Hunter's direction, then left.
"Hey," Hunter said.
Blair hesitated.
"You put me or my shipmates in danger, half-breed, I'll kill you."
"You'll try." He stared unflinchingly at the man, then pounded up his ladder. "It's all one big lovefest," he said through a sigh.
Once everyone had preflighted, the comm check commenced. When Taggart's voice came over the channel, Blair couldn't help but dial up the captain's private frequency. "Sir, I didn't know you'd be flying this one. In fact, I didn't know you were qualified to pilot a Broadsword."
"Yeah, well, this mission needs a conscience, and I'm it. You keep your head low and your eyes bugged, Lieutenant."
"Count on it."
Wondering if there were any more surprises on the roster, Blair listened in as Knight, Hunter, Forbes, Polanski, Maniac, and Deveraux exchanged status reports. Knight flew the other Broadsword, and Polanski now took Hunter's wing. Maniac would, of course, fly with Forbes.
Part Two
The launch went off without a hitch, save for Polanski's report of a hydraulic leak too insignificant to ground him.
Blair held a steady course at Deveraux's four o'clock low. They, along with the other Rapier pilots, escorted the two Broadswords. Originally designed as an attack bomber for Kilrathi capital ships, the Broadsword held its own as an all-purpose fighter, equipped with port, starboard, and aft turrets as well as four missile and four torpedo hardpoints. If a Broadsword got close enough to a capital ship (or in their present situation, a Kilrathi ConCom ship), its torpedoes would successfully penetrate phase shields. Thus, getting Taggart and Knight in close enough to the ConCom ship remained the foremost objective. Accomplishing that meant punching a hole through the Dralthi fighters surely awaiting them.
They came up fast on the ring of asteroids and debris orbiting the brown dwarf. Blair slid his HUD viewer into place and surveyed the zone with thermal scanners, finding it cool and clear. The strike force wove into the field, huge rocks and splintered durasteel tumbling by, some pieces just meters away.
"Picking up any comm traffic, Baker Seven?" Deveraux asked Taggart.
"Nothing."
"Let's get in a little closer."
"My words exactly," Maniac said.
"Shuddup," Polanski groaned. "Pervert."
"Secure that, ladies," Deveraux ordered.
"Com traffic still at zero," Taggart reported.
"They're observing radio silence," Deveraux said. "Except for short-range frequencies."
"Or they aren't here anymore," Taggart warned.
"Baker Two, Three, and Four," Deveraux called. "Anything?"
Blair scanned his radar display. "Nada, Chief."
"Nothing happening, Boss," Forbes said.
Maniac released an exaggerated hem. "My scope's clean, Commander."
"Dammit!" Hunter cried.
"What is it?" Deveraux demanded.
"Big piece of something just glanced off my canopy. Computer didn't course-correct in time."
"He's probably going nuts without his cigar," Polanski said. "He's having hallucinations of little dancing cigars."
Several pilots chuckled into the comm, but Blair knew better than to join them.
Then Maniac's masked face and big, round eyes lit up Blair's VDU. "All right, losers, listen up. I got three confirmed targets at five o'clock, near the brown dwarf."
"Confirm that," Forbes said. "Middle one has a massive electromagnetic signature."
Blair switched the radar report to his HUD. A grid formed at his twelve o'clock, with coordinates scrolling at its corners. The three blips advanced slowly through the lines. "Target number one, bearing one-two-five by three-four-five. Target number two, bearing one-two-six by three-six-six. Target number three, bearing one-three-zero by three-seven-seven. Intercept course locked and disseminating, roger."
"It's the ConCom," Deveraux said. "All right, ladies, deploy for attack. The clock is ticking."
"You all can hold back if you like," Maniac said as he leapt past the other Rapiers. "Maniac'll put these cats out for the night."
"Do not abandon your wingman," Deveraux said.
"Don't worry, Commander," Forbes said. "He's just having trouble keeping up with me." Then her Rapier shot off and razored past Maniac's, narrowly missing a long pipe that rolled end over end.
"Blair. Stay close. Here we go," Deveraux said.
"That's no ConCom," Taggart muttered, his voice barely perceptible. "Abort!"
"You're kidding," Maniac said.
"Baker Seven, you have no authority over this mission or its personnel," Deveraux barked. "You will obey my orders."
"Forget it. I've already analyzed those targets. They're Dorkir-class supply ships. They were deliberately left behind and out of harm's way."
"You're saying they want us to attack those freighters, then they'll ambush us?"
"Not us, Commander. The Tiger Claw. She's at risk. We have to get back."
"You're a civilian scout. Why should I--"
"Commander, I'm not a civilian."
"Mr. Taggart. I don't have time for--"
"I hold the rank of commodore in Confederation Naval Intelligence, reporting directly to Admiral Tolwyn. My call sign is Paladin."
"Yeah, right," Forbes said. "And I'm Admiral Nelson."
"Shuddup!" Blair said, intent on Taggart's revelation.
"My security verification code is Charlie Six Alpha Zebra Niner. Try it, Commander. Now."
Blair couldn't wait for Deveraux. He plugged the numbers into his own computer's touchpad, attempting to tap into the Confederation Navy's Datanet. The left VDU blinked for a moment, then a message rolled across the screen:
COMMODORE JAMES TAGGART
CALL SIGN PALADIN
FOURTEENT FLEET
SECURITY ACCESS GRANTED
"Holy ..." Blair lapsed into astonishment.
"Lucky guess," Deveraux told Taggart. "For all I know, you could've killed the real commodore and assumed his identity."
"Listen to me, Angel. That's all I ask. If I'm wrong, you'll have missed out on destroying a couple of freighters. If I'm right, the Tiger Claw could already be under attack."
"The Claw is already in the radiation belt, boss. They couldn't contact us if they wanted to," Forbes pointed out.
"Well, I ain't for turning tail," Hunter said. "I say we take out the freighters, then go back for the Claw."
"So we can pick through her rubble for survivors, Mr. Hunter?" Taggart asked.
"We're not taking a vote here," Blair said. "It's up to the commander. What do you say, ma'am?"
As Blair waited for her reply, he pictured the others doing the same. Forbes rubbed her eyes and wished she had spent more time sleeping. Polanski threw his head back and swore. Hunter damned regulations to hell, unclipped his O₂ mask, and stuffed an unlit cigar between his lips. Knight imagined with a shudder that a hundred fighters now buzzed over the Claw. Maniac itched with the desire to race forward and kick some Kilrathi butt. Taggart muttered a half-dozen "come on's" as precious seconds ticked by.
And Lieutenant Commander Jeanette Deveraux heaved a sigh and felt the absolute loneliness of her rank.
