Wing Commander Junior Novelization Chapter 7
| Chapter 7 | |
|---|---|
| |
| Book | Wing Commander Junior Novelization |
| Parts | 4 |
| Previous | Chapter 6 |
| Next | Chapter 8 |
| Pages | 32-37 |
| Source | Wing Commander Chapter 7, Part One, Part Three, Part Four & Part Five |
Dramatis Personae
| Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| POV | ||||
| Speaking |
Paul Gerald |
Rosalind "Sassy" Forbes |
||
| Non-Speaking |
Unnamed Pilots (5) |
|||
| Mentioned |
Text
| UNITED CONFEDERATION CARRIER TIGER CLAW |
| MARCH 16, 2654 0200 HOURS ZULU TIME |
| VEGA SECTOR ENYO SYSTEM |
Part One
Blair set foot on the bridge of the Tiger Claw, the largest ship he had ever served on. He could barely contain his excitement. Viewports wrapped around the bridge, the synthoglass so clear it seemed nothing stood between people and the vacuum. Dozens of officers and noncoms sat at dozens of consoles. Instrument panels at the radar, navigation, communications, tactical, and flight deck stations glowed in a rainbow of colors. Six holographic projectors shaped like upside-down domes hung from the ceiling, and one of them at the tactical radar board to Blair's left displayed a real-time, grid-enhanced image of six Hornets launching for patrol to replace the Rapiers now returning.
Captain Jay Sansky stood below the hologram, speaking with a radar officer and pointing to coordinates marking the fighter patrol's flight. Sansky was a middle-aged man who seemed friendly, unlike Commander Gerald.
With few words, Gerald had escorted Blair and Marshall to the bridge. Yes, the commander had identified himself, but Blair didn't even know Gerald's first name, and the man obviously liked it that way. He had looked angry over having to meet them on the flight deck. XOs typically don't greet new pilots or give them the welcome-aboard tour. That was the wing commander's job. But according to Gerald, Captain Taggart had called ahead to make sure that the XO served as escort. In an attempt to make Gerald feel better, Blair had explained the importance of the minidisc he now carried. Gerald had seemed unimpressed. And he had even forced Marshall to stay in the corridor, since Marshall had "no business on the bridge."
Not waiting for the commander to do an uninspired job of introducing him, Blair crossed to Captain Sansky, stood at attention, and gave a crisp salute that the captain returned. "First Lieutenant Christopher Blair reporting for duty, sir."
"At ease, Lieutenant." Sansky scrutinized Blair for a moment, then said, "I understand you have something for me."
"Yes, sir." He withdrew the minidisc from an inner breast pocket and handed it to Sansky. "An encrypted communiqué--from Admiral Tolwyn."
Sansky scratched his forehead and stared at the disc. "Why didn't the admiral send a drone from Pegasus?"
Blair cleared his throat, and his tone grew sad. "Sir. Pegasus was destroyed by a Kilrathi battle group seventeen hours ago. I'm sorry, sir."
The captain looked thoughtfully at Gerald, then crossed toward a wall of consoles, holding up the disc and shouting, "Communications. I want this decrypted ASAP."
"Aye-aye, sir," a young comm officer said, pivoting in his chair to accept the disc.
"If there's nothing else, sir?" Blair asked as Sansky returned.
"We don't kill the messenger anymore, Lieutenant. Instead, I'll just say welcome aboard. And dismissed."
Drawing up his shoulders, Blair saluted. and turned to go.
"Hey, Lieutenant," Gerald called. "You wouldn't be related to Arnold Blair, would you?"
Steeling himself, Blair looked back and answered, "He was my father, sir."
Gerald nodded, his lips rising in a self-satisfied grin that suddenly fell. "He married a Pilgrim woman, didn't he?"
"Yes, sir. My father married a Pilgrim, sir."
"Mixed marriages seldom work out." The commander shifted in front of Blair, his face a cold, dark knot. "Pilgrims don't think like us."
Blair returned the icy look. "You won't have to worry, sir. They're both dead."
Sansky placed a hand on the commander's shoulder. "I'm sure the lieutenant's ancestry will have no bearing on his performance, Mr. Gerald."
"No, sir. I'm sure it won't."
"That's all, Lieutenant," Sansky said, obviously growing weary of his refereeing. "I suggest you stow your gear and take the virtual tour. Your onboard accounts have already been set up. You'll find hard copies of everything in the personnel department."
Blair nodded. "Thank you, sir."
Part Two
In the corridor outside, Blair stormed silently past Marshall. He suddenly felt trapped in who he was, cheated out of a fair life. All of the hard work, the training, the studying, the suffering--all of it--for nothing. I'm a Pilgrim half-breed. That's all I am. None of you can see past that.
"Hey, hey, hey," Marshall said. He ran up behind Blair and yanked him around. "What? Are you having a moment?"
Blair mouthed a curse, stared teary-eyed at the deck, then said, "Tt never changes."
"Look, I overheard a little of that. Forget Gerald. Let it go. Because right now, we're about to meet our fellow pilots. The men and women we're going to fight with, perhaps even die with, and perhaps--"
"Don't worry, Marshall. I won't let the fact that I'm upset keep you from getting a date."
"Me? I'm worried about it keeping you from getting a date. You watch the old Marshall man in action. I'll teach you how to make friends." Marshall threw his arm over Blair's shoulder and led him down the corridor.
Part Three
By the time they reached the pilots' mess, Blair's rage had cooled to a simmer. Marshall pushed open the hatch, and Blair followed him inside.
Considering the large number of pilots stationed aboard the Tiger Claw, Blair had thought the mess would be spacious and well-equipped. It was anything but.
Two pilots played chess on a scratched-up old board. One of them, a tall, sturdy man with a high-and-tight crew cut and Roman nose, smiled to make the long scar on his face twist a little. He took the other pilot's pawn and laughed. "You're going down, Forbes."
"Mr. Polanski. It's good to know you still dream." Forbes, a beautiful, dark-skinned woman who had cut her hair short and dyed it blonde, stared at the board for a moment, then quickly made a move, took Polanski's bishop, and grinned.
The chess players noticed their entrance, as did the half-dozen other pilots seated at tables, eating and sipping drinks. Blair gave a quick nod hello.
But Marshall marched into the room like a grand marshal at a Confederation victory parade. "Hey! How's everybody doing? Lieutenant Todd Marshall."
Silence. Dead silence. Blair swore he could hear molecules bumping against each other. He scanned the blank faces of the pilots and felt his breath shorten. A few returned to their conversations.
Not bothered by their reaction, Marshall went on. "I'd like you all to meet a close personal friend, Lieutenant Christopher Blair--who just happens to be the second-best pilot on this hunk of junk."
Several of the pilots now looked up. One with reddish-brown hair and long sideburns removed the cigar stub from his mouth and spoke in an Australian accent. "Who you calling the best, nugget?"
Blair leaned toward Marshall. "So this is the secret to your overwhelming popularity?"
Marshall took a step toward the cigar-smoking pilot, who quickly stood. "There's two ways to figure out who's the best," he said as he read the pilot's nametag. "One way, Captain St. John, involves you trying to kick my butt--"
St. John frowned, having no idea what to make of Marshall. Blair knew the feeling all too well.
"What's the other way?" St. John asked.
Marshall smiled--a very dangerous look now. "The other way? Why that involves my other close personal friend. Mr. Johnnie Walker Black." After quickly unzipping a pouch on his duffel, Marshall produced a bottle of Scotch, very good Scotch, the rare, real stuff. Now Marshall commanded the room.
Turning toward Forbes, St. John spoke her name as a question, as though she were the group's unofficial leader.
Keeping her gaze trained on the bottle, Forbes said, "We're on stand-down. One won't hurt."
Marshall moved quickly to a shelf, fetched a plastic glass, and poured one for Forbes. "This might even help."
The other pilots flocked around Marshall, who looked at Blair with an I-told-you-so expression plastered on his face.
Part Four
Standing in the chart room with the hatch sealed, Captain Sansky and Commander Gerald waited as the computer booted up and prepared to play the decoded message delivered by Lieutenant Blair. Sansky had already guessed what Admiral Tolwyn would ask of him, and he knew that he could not disobey orders at this time. He had, on more than one occasion, disagreed with the admiral, but too much was at stake now. Responsibility would rest upon the admiral's shoulders, and it felt good to be someone else's instrument.
Finally, the monitor showed Admiral Tolwyn standing on the Concordia's bridge. "Jay, I'll be brief. The Kilrathi took Pegasus. They have her NAVCOM AI. By the time this communication reaches you, they will be approximately thirty-five hours from the Charybdis jump point and Earth. Confed capital ships are headed home now. The Concordia battle group will be there in approximately thirty-seven hours. I'm ordering the Tiger Claw to the Charybdis Quasar. You are to use any means necessary to gather information as to the Kilrathi whereabouts, capacity, and plan of attack. I need intelligence, old friend. Use Taggart. He knows Vega sector better than any man alive--he can get you to Charybdis quickly. Good luck. Tolwyn out."
"Sir, I don't like it," Gerald said. "The disc came to us on the Diligent, entrusted to a Pilgrim half-breed."
"Your reservations have been duly noted. Now then. Send for Taggart."
