Tomorrow Never
Knows
ACT THREE—THE FANGS OF THE
TIGER
I. WARGAMES
Earth
November 21, 2201.
1210 Hours-Eastern Standard
Time
On a nice, cool autumn day,
Derek Wildstar, clad in a set of green coveralls over his EDF blues, was
walking around in a clearing in a large wooded area of the EDF Space Marine
Base at
The field training was an
extension and continuation of the basic survival training given to all EDF
personnel who might face ground combat. This training involved fighting in
space in zero-G and on an airless satellite, and in several different Terrestial
environments, namely, an arctic, desert, urban warfare, and forested
environment.
A few days’ worth of maneuvers
had been done in
The wargames involved many
different companies, all involved company against company in different areas of
the sprawling base. The mission of each company was to take the headquarters of
the other while defending their own headquarters against attack. The members of
each company, from the company command all the way down to the lowliest
private, would be graded on their role in the exercise and given pointed advice
and criticism afterwards on how each man and woman, and how each squad, unit,
and company, could perform better in their objective.
Supplies, especially for those
in the field, apart from the headquarters, were to be minimal, so the exercise
was a test of survival skills and land navigation as well as a test of how well
each EDF member could perform in hand-to-hand infantry combat.
At the moment, Wildstar was on
patrol, having decided to scout ahead of his company a few hundred meters.
Wildstar took a moment to set down his AK-01, loaded with low intensity,
high-visibility practice rounds (carried in conjunction with his Alex's Astro-Automatic,
found on Titan, which he considered something like a good-luck charm) and he
caught a deep breath. I've forgotten how huge this base is, he thought
as he took his canteen off his belt in order to take a drink. I'd also
forgotten how huge this exercise is with a couple of different companies
holding different small-unit wargames on different parts of the base..., he
added to himself. I knew that Hardy, who's just gotten out of the hospital,
would be on this exercise, and, the other day, Nova told me she was going to be
on this exercise, but I haven't seen either of them yet. I guess they were
assigned to different units, or different parts of this unit. They call this a
"Company", but it seems a lot bigger than that.
For all I know, he thought. They could be on the other
side...on Charlie Company...in which case they''d be the enemy, in which case, I'd have to deal with them if I
met them. Well, war is war. What was that Desslok said, according to Nova?
"Love is the first casualty of a war."
And...., thought Wildstar, I'd...
At that, Wildstar's train of
thought was derailed by a snapping twig. Moving as quickly as possible, he put
his canteen on his belt, picked up his rifle, and turned quietly in the
direction of the sound.
Wildstar waited for a moment,
and tensed as a few more twigs snapped.
Finally, he saw a shape.
"HALT!," he demanded in a firm voice.
"Identify yourself!"
The interloper ducked behind a
tree, and Wildstar, guessing he was hostile, aimed his rifle in his direction.
A few more snaps came, and Wildstar continued to keep tensed...
..until,
a moment later, he felt a strong arm go around his midsection.
Wildstar, familiar with the
martial arts, went straight into action as he stomped on the intruder's foot,
and then viciously kicked the intruder in the shins, causing him to loosen his
grip. Using his opportunity, Wildstar broke free, and turned to face his
opponent.
His opponent, clad in Space
Marine greens, snarled at him and threw him back to knock him off-balance, his
helmet coming off as he struggled. The imposing bald African-American then
swung a vicious right hook directly at Wildstar's head.
Wildstar ducked, and responded
with a punch to the intruder's gut.
As the intruder dealt with the
punch, Wildstar responded by punching him, very hard, in the head.
The punch connected, causing the
Marine to wobble on his feet for a moment.
As Wildstar prepared to swing
again, the Marine responded by throwing himself right on top of Wildstar.
Wildstar, off balance, fell to the ground, and held off the Marine as he
snarled and attempted to shove Wildstar's face into the dirt.
The two men rolled, cursing and
punching, as Wildstar looked away to see his dropped rifle lying on a pile of
leaves.
Taking a deep breath, Wildstar
pulled himself out from under the Marine, kicking once at his opponent as he
leaped for his rifle.
The Marine leaped for him,
trying to disarm him, but Wildstar kept his grip on his rifle and hissed,
"Hands UP!! You know the rules, Mister! If I have to shoot you, even at
practice intensity, it's gonna hurt!"
The Marine snarled, looking for
his own dropped weapon, but Wildstar noticed where it was, and kicked it into
another pile of leaves. "You gonna surrender!?,"
hissed Wildstar.
The Marine looked around,
looking for a rescue, but, seeing no one around from his unit, he said,
"Yeah. I'll surrender," in a deep, angry voice.
"Turn around," snapped
Wildstar as he searched his enemy for hidden weapons. He found a combat knife,
which he promptly took.
Wildstar then took some rope
from his opponent and bound his wrists behind his back while holding his rifle
on his enemy. After he was secure, Wildstar snapped, "Who are you?"
"Ensign Paul
Hemsford," said his enemy.
"Which unit were you
with?"
"Third
Marines, Charlie Company."
"What were you doing
here?"
"Scouting
our perimeter. We
were holdin' this area in conjunction with Charlie
Company regulars."
"Where's your
headquarters?"
"I ain't telling you THAT
much, sir," snapped Hemsford. "You wanna find that out, you're going
to have to perform some more scouting."
"I mean to do that."
"With a prisoner?," snapped Hemsford.
"Hell no...I'm turning you
over, first. Now," continued Wildstar, "I..." At that, he
spotted something lying on a pile of dirt. "What's this?",
he demanded.
"I've no idea," said
Hemsford.
"Really?,"
demanded Wildstar.
"Really."
"Well, I'm going to take a
look at this," said Wildstar. "Hmm...it
looks like a manila envelope. I wonder what this is?,"
he said out loud.
Wildstar grabbed at the
envelope, bending down to pick it up.
A moment later, he found himself
hanging by his ankle in a noose dangling from a tree branch.
"What the...HECK!?!?," yelled Wildstar as he dangled three meters above
the ground.
Then, from another tree, someone
jumped down and stuck an AK-01 in his back, hissing in a muffled but familiar
voice, "You're my prisoner, Mister. No funny moves when I cut you down,
GOT it?"
"Right," muttered
Wildstar. He looked at his enemy's boots, and guessed their owner was a woman
because they looked rather narrow.
While thinking nasty thoughts about being
captured by a girl (and being outsmarted by one), he was cut down and turned
over with a light kick. Then, he pushed back his hair and his tormentor opened
her blue faceplate, all in time to reveal his RATHER surprised fiancée standing
there in green woodland camo fatigues! Nova's open-mouthed intake of breath and
wide eyes turned to a smile when she said, "Well, I think my CO's going to
like THIS when I bring you into Charlie Company's camp as a prisoner!"
"You know I have a duty to
escape…!"
"And I'd move all these
woods to hunt you right DOWN again, wouldn't I, Hemsford?."
"Far as I know, you sure
would, ma'am," laughed Hemsford. "Are you gonna get me out of these
cuffs?"
"In a
moment. First I've
got to cuff MY prisoner," snapped Nova as she bound Wildstar's wrists in
the same manner that he had bound Hemsford's wrists. After whispering,
"Sorry, Derek…I'll take care of it for you," she also took Derek's Astro-Automatic,
looking at it for a moment and confirming that it was the same weapon that had
once saved them both on Titan in 2199. She also remembered that, on Iscandar,
Derek had offered to return the weapon to his brother, but the elder Wildstar
had refused it.
"You're going to be
interrogated, you know," said Forrester as she forced him up (seeming to
enjoy this). "Hemsford, it'll be your job to guard our prisoner,"
said Nova as she freed her Marine comrade's wrists.
"Aye, AYE ma'am," he
said.
Wildstar snarled at Hemsford.
Given the tussle they had earlier, Wildstar guessed that Hemsford wouldn't be
particularly nice to him. He then stared at Nova, giving her a less-than
friendly look.
Nova whispered, "I'll
apologize later. Right now, this is WAR, Derek. Got it?"
"Okay," said Wildstar.
"Hey, Wildstar,"
snapped Hemsford.
"Yeah?"
"Are you two, you know, as tight
as I heard you were?" asked Hemsford with a leer and wink.
Nova briskly replied, "This
is irrelevant to this exercise, Mister."
"You two looked pretty
chummy back there. How close have you gotten?" he chuckled.
"You haven't heard?"
asked Wildstar.
"No. I've been in training
since before Saturn-Titan. Just got back planetside
a few days ago. I didn't like my surrender orders...I had ideas about
those."
"So did we,
Hemsford," said Wildstar with a grim smile.
"And if you must know the
truth about Derek and I, we're engaged and getting married in about four weeks,
Mister," said Nova snappily.
"Oh…THAT's it!," laughed Hemsford. "Wildstar, you're gonna LIKE
what happens to you when we get back to camp!"
"Why?"
"She's one of the heads of
the Special Ops Platoon. One of her jobs is the interrogation of prisoners.
Maybe if she's REAL nice, she'll do it herself. C'mon, sir," said Hemsford
with a smile. "We've gotta get moving!"
Needless to say, Wildstar did
NOT like the sound of that.
A while later, Wildstar, walking
with his hands up, found himself escorted to a temporary pre-fab shelter unit by Forrester and Hemsford.
He was walked inside, escorted
briskly through two rooms that seemed to be offices, and then marched into a
compartment that contained a straight-backed chair, a bunk, a desktop light,
and a small table.
"This is where I have
to leave you," said Hemsford in his deep voice with a peculiar emphasis.
"You'd better behave, got it?"
Wildstar replied only with a
curt nod. He glanced over at Nova, and then he glanced behind her, noticing
that they weren't by any means alone.
"So, you brought a
prisoner?" chuckled a young dark-haired woman as
she stood up and faced Nova. The young woman, Wildstar noticed, was Nova's
friend, Natalie Fisher.
"I did," said Nova.
"Hold it," said
Wildstar. "Aren't you a nurse?"
"You're not permitted to speak
until you're spoken to, prisoner," snapped Fisher. "But, if you must
know, I've been assigned as an assistant Intelligence officer for the duration
of this wargame. My job is to see to the preliminary interrogation of
prisoners. Miss Forrester was assigned as a perimeter scout, and I must say,
she's done a great job in brining us a prisoner of your caliber, Captain
Wildstar. Now, enough of these pleasantries. If you
wouldn't mind, what was your mission?"
"You know I can't tell you
that," said Wildstar respectfully. "I'm bound not to reveal anything
to your benefit. My name is Lieutenant Commander Derek Wildstar. My service
number is..."
"That's NOT what we're
interested in!" snapped Natalie. "What we're interested in, sir, is
your mission. What were you up to in our perimeter?"
"I can't tell either of you
that," said Wildstar simply. He sat back and caught a whiff of food
outside. "I'm hungry. Could one of you get me something?"
Nova shook her head. "We
can't leave you unguarded, Derek. You know that."
"But..."
"If you were wondering, I
asked an enlisted man to prepare you something on our way in when you were
talking with Hemsford," said Nova. "It'll take them a little while,
since the enlisted scouts have to be fed first, but, if you'll cooperate, we'll
see about getting you out there ASAP to eat with us. Okay?"
Derek looked, and noticed that
Nova was smiling kindly at him. On the other hand, behind her desk, Natalie
looked very irritated. Then, he figured it out. It's an act! The old "good cop- bad cop routine!" Nova's the
nice one ready to give me everything if I'll talk, while Miss Fisher's the one
who's waiting and ready to rip out my fingernails if I don't talk! AHA! They
must've had this set up...for whomever stumbled into their clutches! Okayy...let's see how you like this... he thought with
a grin.
"You know, I wish I could
cooperate, but I can't," said Wildstar.
"Why not?" snapped
Natalie.
"Because...it's so
simple," said Wildstar. "Nova, you remember how we sometimes saw
classified information handled while we were with the Star Force, right?"
"What do you mean?"
she asked, puzzled.
"Often, lower-ranking
personnel weren't told everything about a mission that we sent them on,
particularly when they didn't have a strict need to know. That's how we handled
things with some of the Space Marines, if you remember. If you remember how we
handled the Gamilon pilot, you know, the one who had his memory taken away,
you'd..."
Derek stopped. Nova was
whispering fiercely to Natalie, and Natalie nodded.
"WE don't buy that line of
reasoning!" snapped Natalie.
"Well, what do you mean?
They didn't tell me everything..."
"Nova informed me that her
trap was baited with fake plans. Anyone reaching for plans would have to, by
necessity, be on a spy mission, wouldn't they?"
"I wasn't engaged in
espionage against your unit, except for the sort one might expect from a
commander scouting ahead of his company."
"All right," said
Nova. "What was the company?"
"I can't really tell you
that, can I?" said Derek in a charming voice.
"Come on," said Nova.
"Don't make it any harder on yourself than it has to be," she said
imploringly. "What was the company, and what were you up to around our
lines?"
"Can't tell you...I'm
sorry," he said softly. "I can't compromise my unit."
"Okay, then," said
Natalie. "If you won't talk...we're going to have to make you
talk."
"And how do you plan to do
that?" demanded Wildstar.
"Hey, Nova, want some
soda?" asked Natalie.
"Sure."
"I'll go and get you one,
and I'll get one for myself. But NOT for our prisoner.
He won't get anything until he talks."
"Is that humane?"
asked Nova. "Natalie, that sounds very cruel."
"It's
war," said Natalie with a wicked grin. "If he's thirsty, when he
talks, he drinks. If not...well...he'll just have to be thirsty, that's
all."
After about two hours' worth of
questioning, as Natalie and Nova had their sodas, Wildstar grew ever more thirsty. Seeing the two of them also enjoying candy
bars (which they also denied him) didn't help very much, either.
Especially...not
when Nova asked Natalie, "When's dinner coming?"
"Later," said Natalie.
"Why?,"
asked Nova.
"Well, we have our
prisoner. We can't feed him until he either talks, or until it's necessary to
feed him."
"Natalie," said Nova.
"I think this is going a little far. He has to eat sometime."
"But when?" asked
Natalie. "Let him determine that," she said as she began to eat
another candy bar. "Want one?"
"No, thanks," said
Nova. "If I eat too many of those, I'll never be able to fit into a decent
wedding dress. "
"When's the blessed event
taking place?"
"Derek and I have plans to
get married on the 26th of December, which isn't that far away. "
"About a
month. Not bad,"
said Natalie. "Hey," she whispered.
"Yes?"
"Are you going to let him
eat and relax our guard then?"
"Of course I am," said
Nova huffily.
"Can I eat now?"
demanded Wildstar.
"Only when you talk,"
blurted Natalie.
"Wait," said Wildstar.
"I'm ready."
"Ready to do what?"
demanded Natalie before Nova could put in her two credits' worth.
"I'm ready to talk,"
grinned Wildstar, as he thought, I am ready to talk. But, all they'll get is
misinformation. Misinformation that'll lead their side right into a trap I'll set
up when they let me go...Sorry, Nova, he thought. But love is love...and war is
war. Right now, you have the bad luck of being on the enemy side...and I'm
sworn to beat you.
And, at that, Derek began to tell
a wonderfully detailed story about his mission, his objectives, and the plans
of his side. Natalie eagerly took down every detail of his confession, with
Nova's help as she questioned him, seeming to turn rather thoughtful after a
certain point.
Finally, when Derek was done
talking, Natalie eagerly closed her notebook and said, "Okay, now,
prisoner. We'll get you your dinner, and anything else you want. Thanks so much
for being cooperative."
"You're welcome," said
Wildstar with a smile.
"Nova, can you see to it
that he's fed while I give this report to our superiors?"
"Sure," said Nova
hesitantly. "Go right ahead. I'll get his chow in a minute."
Natalie left, leaving Derek and
Nova alone. Finally, Nova looked him straight in the eye and asked, "Derek,
did you tell us the truth?"
Wildstar only smiled. "I
told you all that I know," he said in a soft voice. "I was patrolling
that ridge, because it does lead to the best attack route to our
headquarters, namely, through the gully past Hill 347. If you lead a patrol
through that gully, you can slip around most of our perimeter and attack us,
fair and square, with only a few guards in that area."
"Are you sure about
that?" asked Nova.
"Why do you ask?"
"I know what you're like,
Derek. You don't give up that easily. You're going to have something waiting
for us there, aren't you?"
"Just the
normal perimeter patrol. That's it. If your side can overpower them, you can hit our
headquarters very, very easily."
"Really?"
"Really, Nova," he
said calmly. "Give it a try. C'mon."
"Okay. But this had better
not be a trick."
"Nova, would I trick
you?" he said with the earnestness of a little boy.
"With you, I'm not so
sure..."
II. NIGHT PATROL
Earth
November 22, 2201.
210 Hours-Eastern Standard
Time
It turned out that, after
Natalie's report was accepted by the commander of their unit, a group was
prepared to ambush the opposing side's headquarters, which, based upon
information from other scouts, was concluded to be exactly in the location that
Derek had reported. Natalie was chosen as one of the scouts to lead the unit to
the headquarters and ambush it.. Natalie accepted the
assignment with glee.
To her chagrin, Nova was
selected to assist in the operation. The unit commander, a crusty Space Marine
Major known as Horowitz, had listened patiently as Nova explained that she
suspected the information obtained from Wildstar was probably tainted. Horowitz
remembered that Nova had argued, "He has to have something up his
sleeve, sir!"
"And, why do you suspect
that?" said Horowitz.
"Well, sir, you know he's
the Commander of the Star Force. Personal considerations aside, sir, I've
served with him and under him for over fifteen months, and can tell you that
Derek Wildstar is not a man who gives up easily. He's confounded both Gamilons
and Cometines with some of the stratagems he's pulled off...and a lot of them
involve surprise, stealth, and deception, sir."
Horowitz had laughed, and said,
"Where's the surprise and stealth in a man who eats like a hog and then
falls asleep for a few hours? I think he's resigned to his lot."
"Why?"
"He's not trying to escape,
and he's been a model prisoner."
"Why would he talk so
readily, sir?" Nova had asked.
"Those are the actions of a
man who's a good loser. In the battles you've been through, Earth's fate has
been at stake. This is just a wargame, Forrester. Can't a man throw a wargame
every now and then?," Horowitz had chuckled.
"You don't know Lieutenant
Commander Derek Wildstar. I do. That's all I have to say, sir," Nova
had said.
"Very good,
Forrester," Horowitz had replied. "If you want to go off and follow
your...romantic hunch...you can lead a six-man point recon squad all by
yourself, okay? That's your job. Get out of here."
And, so ordered, Nova had been
sent, given a Marine Tech Sergeant named Howard Brody as an executive officer,
a regular EDF line Sergeant named Karachek as a second exec, and a squad
consisting of two Lance Corporals and two Privates.
Nova's unit was the third
"point" squad, following the units that Natalie Fisher and Hemsford
had been assigned to. Natalie's unit and Hemsford's unit were advancing on the
left and right flanks, and Nova's unit was taking the direct route down the
gully that Derek had spoken of.
In the moonlight, Nova ordered a
halt with a hand signal that Brody had to strain his eyes to catch, since
Forrester had done an effective job in making herself and the others hard to
spot at night with green camo face paint, camo helmet covers, and bits of brush
attached to their helmets.
"Now, what's she
doin?" muttered Brody.
"What's that, Sarge?"
whispered Lance Corporal Saraven, who was right beside Brody.
"This officer dame's
nuttier than a fruitcake, and very stubborn."
muttered Brody. "Start, stop, smell the ground, listen to radio signals,
creep forwards a few more meters, stop again. What's she think? There's a
boobytrap on every corner?"
"There could be boobytraps, Sarge," said Saraven helpfully.
"Around a route that
Wildstar says is the best way to his Headquarters?,"
sneered Brody. "He got tortured or somethin', and
he turned chicken and confessed. Why don't we go in a bit faster, and..."
Forrester came up on top of them
again a moment later, moving very stealthily, and whispered, "Sergeant,
CUT the chatter out."
"Yes, ma'am," he
replied. "What's up?"
"I just received a dispatch
on the command frequency. We've got to be very careful."
"Why?"
"The base camp reported
that Wildstar just escaped," whispered Nova in a dismayed tone that not
even her whispers quite hid.
"Have they found him yet?," asked Brody.
"No. And...about
that..."
"Yeah?"
"I think he's set a trap
for us...or is about to...."
"How could he do
that?" sneered Brody softly as Karachek showed up with his two Lance
Corporals.
"I don't think we were told
everything about this terrain," whispered Nova.
"Why?"
"When I was off on point, I
heard some running water up ahead, in a course parallel to ours. Wildstar said
nothing about running water or a stream bed in the area, so I'd better check
this out. Sergeant, you take your men and proceed a
klick up towards the headquarters. I'll take Karachek and his men and check out
that other gully."
"Got it," said Brody
with a nod of his chubby face. "Where do we meet up?"
"Two
klicks ahead. I'll
navigate back to this gully after I check out the stream," whispered Nova
as she set her compass.
"Right."
Unknown to everyone, Derek Wildstar
was advancing stealthily up the hill just three kilometers away, up the real
best route of attack against his headquarters, a stream that led to the hollow
where his unit's headquarters complex had been set up. The gully that he had
told Nova about was nothing but a dead end that led to another tributary of the
stream; a tributary that took a course that could best be called torturous
before it got to the main stream itself.
Wildstar had figured this
stratagem out as he was tied to the cot and thought about the lay of the land
that he knew about, but guessed Forrester and Fisher hadn't. He realized that
the plot would've been given away at once if Nova had actually explored the
area herself beforehand. However, he knew that Nova's lack of an immediate
objection to his con game gave away her lack of knowledge of the area.
Now, his hope was that her unit
could be silenced soon by running into the perimeter guards that guarded the
region...guards he had also neglected to tell them about.
Picking up the portable radio
that he had stolen from one of his poker-playing guards after having disabled
and disarmed him with a good, unexpected kick in the middle of a poker game,
Wildstar whispered, "Bravo two-zero? Over."
"Bravo-two," said a
familiar voice from out of the handset. "Wildstah?"
"Hardy, still out
there?" whispered Wildstar.
"Yeah. Got some radio
traffic. Ah think ah found out where they are, Wildstah. Where WERE
yuh?"
"I was their guest for a
little while," whispered Wildstar.
"Captured? Shoot!"
"But I accomplished my
objective and got away. Now I know where their base is...and I told them that
the best way to our base is up the West gully," whispered Wildstar with a
note of a chuckle in his voice.
"Up Roach
Motel Ridge, Wildstah?"
"Yeah. They'll check in, but they won't check
out," he chuckled. "Hardy, get some boys over there and at Heartbreak
Rock to throw a party for their scouts and shut them up. I'll meet you back at
Headquarters later. And wait until I tell you who interrogated me," chuckled
Wildstar. "Over and out," he whispered as he advanced onwards along
the stream, being sure to get himself hidden as soon as he heard a twig snap
some distance away.
II. NOVA AT HEARTBREAK ROCK
Earth
November 22, 2201.
248 Hours-Eastern Standard
Time
Nova now had Karachek convinced
she was crazy as they climbed laboriously over one of the biggest boulders in
the area that any of them had ever seen. The stream they had been following cut
a path past this boulder, but the channel was so narrow that even Forrester
found it impossible to get her slender form through it. Karachek and the two
Marine Lance Corporals who followed him loudly wished that they had worn their
rubber boots as they made this climb. Nova herself thought that the light
rock-climbing shoes she had used once as a girl in the
"Made it," muttered
Karachek as he dragged one of his puffing Lance Corporals over the rock.
"Shh," hissed Nova.
"What?" said Karachek
in silence with a raised eyebrow as Nova listened.
"A twig," she said
softly, motioning for her men to get down.
"I'll go ahead," she
whispered.
"Ma'am, that's crazy.
You're...."
"The quietest walker of
this bunch," she countered. "Keep your ears peeled on the
radio."
Karachek nodded as Nova closed
her Marine-style helmet visor and tiptoed forward with her AK-01 Carbine
(loaded, of course, with practice rounds) at the ready, looking hard for any signs
of movement in the brush next to the stream.
"Got yuh in mah
sights," whispered a figure a few hundred meters away as he spotted Nova
in his night-vision sight. "Just a little closer, up towards Manley and
Kayan's positions...there...good," whispered the figure. "Now, one
Charlie in the BAG!" he whispered as he fired.
"Huh?,"
cried Nova as a blue streak of light whizzed past her in the darkness. She
ducked, and hit the dirt, squeezing off a round in the general direction of the
enemy as she fell. She cursed herself a second later as a practice round from
the right crackled loudly in a burst of laser pyrotechnics against her
overall-clad upper thigh, causing it to twinge painfully with a sensation like
an electric shock as two men rushed up out of nowhere to grab her.
Nova got off one kick with her
good leg, but, a moment later, a third figure ran up and butted her carbine out
of her hands with a practiced swipe.
As Nova faced down her
attackers, she had just enough time to yell, "Karachek!" into her lip
mike before she found herself surrounded by four men. The leader held a rifle
menacingly in her face and barked, through his visor, "Get UP!" in a
familiar voice.
"Huh?" Nova said as
she put up her hands and limped up. The leg that had been
shot still twanged and felt rather weak. "Hardy?" she said,
recognizing her longhaired former shipmate from the Argo.
"Miss Nova?" he asked.
"What'cha doin heah?"
"Training, like the rest of
you," she snapped.
"Yew on our side?" he
asked.
"Nope. I'm a scout from Charlie Company. "
"Yeah!" yelled a
stout, short figure who turned out to be Manley. "We got one! Can we rough
her up a bit, sir?" he said, taking a playful shove at Nova that made her
stumble for a minute as she looked on in anger and surprise.
"Hell no!" said Hardy.
"That wouldn't be ONE bit gallant, boy!" he snapped. "So you're
the one Wildstah was talkin' to when he was a prisoner, huh?"
"How'd you know that?"
asked Nova as she heard yells and shouts over her helmet headset as one of the
men pulled it off her head. She guessed that Karachek, Brody and his men had
fallen into the same trap.
"Easy," said another
figure as he came up, and Nova recognized it as Buzz. "Wildstar radioed us
with a radio set he stole. Now, based on his information, we'll launch a night
attack on your headquarters, and then we can all joke about this in the
morning," he said as Nova fumed, noticing that her helmet (and radio) were
in the hands of Jeff Hardy. No way to get them back and warn the
base...DARN, she thought with a fair measure of disgust.
"That idiot!" squeaked
Nova.
"Who, Wildstah?" asked
Hardy.
"No, our
Company Commander. I
tried to tell him this would happen! I tried to tell him that Derek was pulling
a trick...but did he listen? No...he didn't!"
"Ma'am," said one of
the other men. "My name is Junior Lieutenant Sanjeeva Kayan. As one of
your captors, it is my duty to inform you that you have been captured by enemy
forces and neutralized. You will reveal your name, rank, service number, and
any other information we deem as useful to our cause. You are to come with us
at once."
"Right," sighed Nova as Buzz patted her down and took her canteen and
other gear. As a mildly gallant gesture, he let her tuck her dark green-colored
ascot (which had come undone during the struggle) back into the neckline of her
coveralls "Well, let's go..." she sighed.
"Nova," said Hardy.
"Yes?" she sighed.
"Ah must say, you look
ravishing in camo makeup! Gonna do yourself up like this on your honeymoon for
Wildstah?"
"Hardy, shut UP!"
barked Nova as the others laughed. They're acting like a bunch of
jerks...although at least Star Blazers are nowhere near as bad as Space
Marines, at least, thought Nova with a sour look on her face as her hands
were found in front of her and bound.
"Shaving cream!"
chuckled Buzz. "Hey, Hardy. Ya still got that
shaving cream in the tent?"
"Yeah, ah do," he
said.
"Maybe we can use it
later!" he cawed as the others laughed.
Now what, thought Nova again as she looked at her
former comrades with her hands tied, would these guys be talking about?
IV. THE SMELL OF VICTORY....
Earth
November 22, 2201.
1027 Hours-Eastern Standard
Time
The night attack on Charlie Company
Headquarters, based on Wildstar's information of the whereabouts of the base,
came off very well. With all of Charlie's scouts bagged at the Delta perimeter,
there was more than enough time for the men and women of Delta Company to come
up the stream bed and through the woods in force to attack the Charlie Company
Headquarters and defeat the enemy after a vicious but quick night battle. The
results were relayed through the Delta Headquarters when soldiers from Delta
came back triumphantly with Charlie Company's captured Company colors and
captured Company Commander, as Major Horowitz himself was marched, with his
hands bound, in front of the Delta Headquarters tents as all of the Deltas
cheered.
After the end of the part of the
wargames in which Delta and Charlie Company had participated, everyone was
trucked to another part of the base for breakfast before a formal briefing
about the exercise.
Wildstar was sitting in the back
of an open armored aircar as Nova walked by, still wiping some of the camo
makeup off her face in the morning sunlight. She wasn't limping any more, since
the effect of the practice-intensity hit had worn off after about an hour. For
that, she was grateful, especially since she had heard that, in another
company, Logistics had confused a practice-intensity cosmo-rifle battery pack
with an actual combat-intensity pack, and some private had taken a shot that
had taken off his hand!
"Nova!" he called.
"You wanna come over here?"
"Oh? Do you want to
interrogate me, too?" she teased as she climbed into the aircar.
"No, why should I? It's
over with. We won."
"I know you won,"
grumbled Forrester, but with a little smile. "We would've won if the Major
had listened to me," she said as the car began to drive off.
"Oh?" asked Derek.
"I suspected that there was
something you were leaving out of your story," she said as she passed
Derek a canteen of water while the dark green-painted aircar roared over the
countryside.
"Hardy and Buzz told me
that you had almost discovered the real path to our base when you were
captured, and before you could report to your side."
"I was beginning to report
when they captured me," countered Nova.
"Well, that was still a
pretty good example of scouting, Nova," said Wildstar.
"Thanks," replied Nova
with a smile. "But I still hate losing. I should've argued further with
that Horowitz," she said, "but he dismissed everything I said."
"Why?"
Nova sighed. "The
"Man's Navy" thing that all of you men buy into. He just about
made it clear to me by his attitude that he thought I was a little girl with a
case of the screaming meemies who wasn't worth listening to. And, so, he
lost," pouted Nova.
"Nova," said Derek.
"It wasn't your fault..." he said quietly.
"It wasn't?"
"Nova, as one of his
subordinates...you can't be blamed if he wouldn't listen to you. Truth be told...I had a hard time convincing our side of the
location of your headquarters and launching the attack."
"What'd they think?"
asked Nova.
"Well, do you remember what
happened when the Comet Empire wouldn't let their pilot, Mazar, back into their
ranks after we captured him and after he escaped...probably because they
thought he was tainted by contact with us? Well, MY CO, Marine Major
Corcoran...a guy who's held that rank for two years...longer than I've been a
Lieutenant Commander, thought the same thing about me. I had a hell of a time
convincing him to start that attack."
"So..."
"It could've gone either
way, Nova...and things weren't easy for either of us. But we both learned
something..."
"Yes," said Nova with
a grin. "You learned how to be even sneakier than ever, and I learned
never to trust someone who's too obliging."
"Will that have an effect
on our personal life, madam?" he whispered.
"Not if you take me out after
we get back to the Megalopolis tonight. Make it at nineteen-thirty hours, at
that sushi place you were telling me about," smiled Nova.
"Consider it done,"
said Wildstar with a squeeze of his fiancé's hand.
At the briefing, which was just
one of several being held that day, Delta Company and Charlie Company's members
sat in a huge auditorium. There, a Marine Colonel serving as the referee for
the company-level exercise they were involved in reviewed the results of the
exercise on a large computer screen, discussing each aspect of the contact,
skirmishes, reconnaissance, and raid. Nova tried not to groan too much as
Wildstar's name was mentioned several times in a positive light, but she ended
up blushing for a bit as she found out that her objections to Derek's
"reliable" information had at least been recorded by Major Horowitz.
They were noted with distinction by the referee, who said, "As a unit
commander, this makes it absolutely clear that you ignore the intelligence of
your subordinates with peril. Although perhaps not as important in the overall
picture as Lieutenant Commander Wildstar's quickly devised stratagem and
escape, we must recognize that at the very least, Lieutenant Forrester
performed well in her task as an Intelligence Officer by using her knowledge of
her enemy to temper reports. She acted far better than Miss Fisher, who
accepted this intelligence entirely at face value...."
As the Colonel droned on about
another part of the exercise, Nova accepted a squeeze from Derek's hand, and a
shake of the head and a silent sigh from Natalie, who was sitting nearby. "Don't worry," whispered Nova. "You can still
be maid of honor at the wedding...even if you get a poor fitness report for
this exercise because you messed up."
"Oh...you,"
whispered Natalie with a sour look on her face.
"Hush,
or they'll put some more shavin' cream in youah hair, Miss Fishah,"
whispered Hardy from beside her.
"Isn't torture a war crime,
Hardy?" she shot back.
"Cool it," muttered
Wildstar. "We're supposed to be listening."
"Aye, aye, sir," said
Natalie with a sour look on her face, as she wished she could put some shaving
cream in Hardy's hair. Maybe then it wouldn't hang in that eye of yours and
look like some psychotic mop, she thought with disgust. I think you got
over that back injury TOO well, Mister Hardy, she thought again.
Later, that night, after they
arrived back in the Megalopolis, Derek, wearing his peacoat and his blues, met
Nova at her apartment, sitting down behind her little dining counter when he got
there. To his pleasure (and hers) Nova had succeeded in getting rid of every
trace of the camo face-paint, and, as a result, looked more than ready for
their date. She had, of course, exchanged her coveralls, uniform, and muddy
service boots for the new pink dress and sandals she had purchased five days
ago at Bloomberg's.
"You look great," said
Derek as she made her appearance in her new dress and they kissed.
"I feel much better after
the nap I got to take this afternoon, too. Were you able to get some
sleep?"
"Yeah. Is your leg all right?"
"How'd you hear about
that?" asked Nova.
"Hardy told me. He wasn't
gloating, either. Matter of fact..."
"I know, Derek. He
apologized before."
"Are you sure it's
okay?"
"Derek," said Nova
with a huff as she stepped back and raised the hem of her dress a little.
"See this spot, right here?" she asked, indicating a spot on her bare
lower thigh. Go on, you can come closer," she said with a blush.
"There was a red mark, right here, for about two hours after I was shot,
but then it went away. Were we so inclined, I could spend the evening dancing
in your arms with no problem, okay?" said Nova as she lowered her dress
back down over her knee. "I'm fine."
"Good," said Derek
with a sigh of relief. "I was just afraid we'd hurt you."
"And, tell the guys that
all the shaving cream came out of my hair in the shower, okay?"
"They did that to you,
too?" asked Wildstar.
Nova nodded. "Although, I
must admit, I didn't get it as badly as Natalie did. Buzz and Kayan really went
to town on her, poor thing. It's not too cold out now, is it?" asked Nova.
"Not really. Oh, where's your stockings?"
"There's a shortage
on," said Nova brightly. "All my regulation stockings are being kept
safely in a drawer so I can pass inspections in my Administration uniform at
Headquarters with no problem if I'm called in one day. They're still rebuilding
the records, at Headquarters you know, and the Commander said I may have to
come in on an off-day from training if I'm needed. Besides, haven't I told you
I don't like wearing hose with sandals if I can avoid it? It's not THAT cold
today, Derek."
"Oh, that's right. Good
thing it's not January, or you'd catch frostbite," chuckled Wildstar.
"If I have to put my heel
in your boot, Derek, you'll find it'll hurt."
"Don't know if you can do
that in this restaurant."
"Why
not?"
"Didn't I tell you it's classic Japanese style? Your shoes come off at the
door, madame."
"There goes attack plan one
if you get naughty," sighed Nova as she flexed her toes. "Oh, well, I
can still elbow you if I have to..."
"Okay, I promise I won't do
anything naughty."
"Thank you," said Nova
gently as she gave Derek a hug. "Well, shall we go?"
"All right," he said.
Later, at the restaurant, as
Nova and Derek shared a large house special, which included every kind of sushi
and sashimi one could think of, Derek asked, "Did you hear anything
through the scuttlebutt grapevine about your flight instructor, yet?"
"Such
as?"
"Well, who it's going to
be?"
"No. I didn't hear a lot of
scuttlebutt down in
"So, you haven't heard
anything."
"That's right," said
Nova as she picked up a piece of pink tuna and rice with her chopsticks before
dipping the whole concoction in her little dish of soy sauce mixed with hot
green wasabi.
"I take it you didn't hear
anything about your students, either?"
"No, except that I've been
made aware it'll be fighter-interceptor training. I'll be teaching a squadron,
as I think I've told you before, of Super Starfighter pilots."
"Isn't that
dangerous?" she asked.
"I'm looking forward to it.
It's gonna feel good to be back on duty again after all these days, even if
it's a TDY assignment. I'd like to wish you luck, by the way, Nova," he
said as he raised a cup of sake' to her, the first he had drank that evening.
"Won't that mess up your
equilibrium tomorrow, Derek?"
"You know I won't be
flying. Neither will you. We'll both be in ground school for those first few
days...."
"...only you'll be
lecturing, while I'll be learning," said Nova as she raised her cup of
warm sake'.
"Geez...I think you'll have
the easier job," said Derek.
"Why?"
"I never...taught
before."
"Well, here's to your first
lecture as an instructor, tomorrow, Derek," said Nova in a bright, merry
tone.
"And here's to your
upcoming first flight in a Cosmo Tiger, Nova. Kampai!"
"Kampai!" repeated Nova. "And...happy landings to both of us."
They clinked
their cups and drank, hoping that they'd have a good day tomorrow.
V. IN THE EYES OF A TIGER
Earth
Federal Megalopolis
Idlewild Space Naval Air
Station
Building 301
November 23, 2201
0646 Hours-Eastern Standard
Time
The next day came. Early in the
morning, Wildstar was sitting in a small office on the second floor of one of
the classroom buildings at the base...which would be his office as a flight
instructor for the next few weeks, looking at the
twelve personnel jackets that belonged to the twelve students he had just been
assigned. He was unaware of their identities until this moment, by design,
since the EDF didn't want its instructors to have any prejudices either for or
against their students before they met.
"Can't believe this
one," he muttered to himself as he shook his head over a file. "And the one before it! How did this clown from
A knock came at the door from
the other side of the pebbled-techtite privacy window in the office door with
the new nameplate LT. CMDR. DEREK WILDSTAR mounted on it, interrupting
Wildstar's reverie. "Who is it?," he
demanded.
"Hey, ah thought you
wouldn't maind talkin' to guy who's just in the office next to yoahs,
Wildstah!"
"Oh! Hardy! C'mon in!," said Wildstar.
The door opened, and Jefferson
Davis Hardy, dressed, like Wildstar, in standard duty blues, came into the
room, carrying a very thick brown cardboard portfolio like the sort that
Wildstar had found the personnel files of his students in. "What'cha
doin?" joked Hardy.
"Looking over what I've got
to meet in Room 124 at 0830," said Wildstar. "I can't believe some of
these records!"
"Oh, you mean you're
learnin' about the Good, the Bad and the Ugly, too?" asked Hardy.
"Yeah. I've got two here that I've just read.
They're both combat veterans, both from the same ship, as a matter of fact,
but, otherwise, they've led totally different lives, and have had...totally
different records. Sit down, Hardy, right over there, and put yours on that
table. Since we've got the time, we might as well compare notes."
Hardy did so, and then he shut
the door behind him, setting the files on a small table that held a computer
console. Hardy pulled out the chair from under the table and twisted it around
to face Wildstar's desk and the stiff, hard office chair that had been
intentionally placed in front of it for students to sit in when they were
ordered to "drive around" to their instructor's office for either
evaluation or discipline.
"Females," said Hardy
in a soft voice. "A little more than half a' mah students are females! You
believe that?"
"So are three of mine,
Hardy," said Wildstar.
"They're teachin' females
to fly Super Starfighters? You gotta be kiddin' me,
Wildstah!"
"I'm not kidding, Hardy. I have
twelve students, and three of them are females. One of them's
a combat veteran, as a matter of fact."
"How's that?" asked
Hardy.
"Well, she was one of the
two I couldn't get over that I was reading about just now. She's one of the
pilots who was assigned to the spacecraft carrier
Akagi not long ago."
"Ah heard about the Akagi!
Isn't she still on her way home?"
"She's still being
repaired, last I heard. Well, this pilot was a member of the White
Wolves...and...."
"The White Wolves?"
asked Hardy. "You mean the bunch that managed to get two flights up in the
air and off their carrier's deck right before the Cometine bombers showed
up?"
"Yeah, and they managed to
kill quite a few of those Scorpion boats, too. The four out of six who made it
back to the ship and managed to land through the smoke all got Distinguished
Flying Crosses out of the bargain, and I've got two of them in my squadron to
teach."
"Who were they?"
"The guy's name is Bryan
Hartcliffe...he's one of the...well...he's one of the "Bad" in my
squadron."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that if he doesn't
watch out, he could be heading for a Bad Conduct Discharge, Jeff. You name it,
this Brit's done it," said Wildstar as he showed Hardy his picture.
"Hey, why's he wearin' his
hair in one eye?" demanded Hardy. "Only AH can do that!"
"Yeah, they all say
that," said Wildstar, winking at his friend. "At least you don't have
these little beady-eyed glasses and mustache like this guy. He looks just like
one of the Beatles, although I can't remember which one at the moment."
"The Beatles?" asked
Hardy. "Who the hell were they? Were they related to Elvis?"
"The Beatles were this
famous old twentieth-century rock band that Nova has a fixation on," grinned Wildstar. "She showed me a picture of them once
on one of the covers of the albums that resurfaced after the Unification Wars
and the Gamilon wars, and they all looked like that guy."
"That's weird," said
Hardy. "They were hippies then?"
"What were hippies?"
asked Wildstar.
"Weird dudes that grew their
hair long, didn't take baths, believed in doing it
liake rabbits, and protested against the Vietnam War."
"Strange bunch," said
Wildstar. "Although when I took History, I always thought that the old
"What'd they sound
like?"
"This," said Wildstar
as he flicked on a cassette player and the sounds of While My Guitar Gently
Weeps filled the office. "Nova likes that one," said Wildstar as
he continued to shake his head over the personnel jackets on his desk.
"The things you have to watch out for with this Hartcliffe guy are booze
and women. He has a bad record with both."
"Protocol violations?"
asked Hardy.
"Well, there was one
Article Fourteen hearing with him, and a hell of a lot of warnings," said
Wildstar.
They were interrupted by another
knock at the door. "Enter!" barked Wildstar.
"Good morning, sir,"
said the enlisted man who came in and saluted, carrying a large object under
his arm. "I was told to bring your new squadron crest here and leave it in
your office for mounting. Also, sir," he said, looking at Hardy, "I
have a memo for you from Captain Priceman, the Base commander."
"Thanks," said Hardy
as he took the memo. The enlisted man was left holding the sign.
"Could you mount it,
Private?" asked Wildstar. "There's a metal strip behind my head above
the bulletin board."
"Aye, aye, sir," said
the enlisted man as he hefted up and mounted a magnetically secured squadron
logo. It read: 72nd Astrofighter Interceptor Group-SILVER DRAGONS around
its edges, and curled up amidst a black, star-covered background, there was a
fierce-looking Chinese-style flying dragon in silver, holding a flaming sword
in one front claw.
"Huh, another old squadron
reactivated, huh?" said Hardy.
"Yeah," said Wildstar
after he dismissed the enlisted man, who closed the door behind him. "This
was an old Gamilon War squadron that all died in 2196 defending the old Mars
Perimeter."
I hope we have better luck than
that."
"All we're gonna be doin'
is trainin'," said Hardy.
"Yeah, but I understand
they're going to activate all these groups next year as full-fledged Groups
with the appropriate numbers of planes and new assignments. Didn't you hear the
briefing?"
"Yeah. And the best of the pilots we train are
gonna be the nuclei of these new Groups," said Hardy. "Who's the
female in your squadron you were talkin' about?"
"Oh...yeah. The one who was serving beside Bryan Hartcliffe
also won a Flying Cross, and shot down one more Scorpion than he did. Her
name's...Laurel Hartmann."
"Ah heard about her!"
said Hardy, nearly falling off his chair. "She's supposed to be darn
hot!"
"I hope you're referring to
her ability as a pilot, Hardy."
"Damn straight,
Wildstah!" laughed Hardy, looking over at her picture on the front of her
personnel jacket. "Boy, she's good. Who else do you have who's
notable?"
"Two guys from the Hermes…"
said Wildstar. "Namely, Sanjeeva Kayan..."
"He's a good guy to work
with," said Hardy. "Ah met him on the weekend, durin' the
wargames."
"Oh? On
whose side?"
"In my
squad, Wildstah!"
"Oh. Well, least you were
on our side."
"Who's the other guy from
the Hermes?" asked Hardy.
"A Nebraskan kid, named Darryl
Pulvan. He's just twenty-one, too," said Wildstar. "One
of my youngest. Would you believe, three kills
already?"
"We had more than that when
we were twenty-one. Way more," said Hardy.
"Yeah, I know. But we were
with the Star Force. From what I read, this Pulvan guy had just joined the ship
a week beforehand and he took out three planes in his first flight. Not
bad."
"Yeah, not at all,"
said Hardy. "Wanna hear about my bunch?"
"Go right
ahead...and…oh...by the way...what's your Group called?"
"They're a Group that's
switched roles. Now, they're the 17th Astrofighter/Scout Group, but, in their
original history, they were known as the 117th Astrofighter Group, and..."
"The RED CENTAURS?"
asked Wildstar with surprise.
"Yeah. Why'd you look like a goose just walked
over yoah grave, Wildstar?"
"Because
that was Alex's old group at one time!"
"Yoah brothuh was in that
Group?"
"Yeah. For a while, Hardy, Alex was the
Commander of that Group. He served two hitches with them; his rookie hitch, and
then, later on, years later, he was their CO. As a matter of fact, he was
assigned to that Group right before he was transferred into missile boats. He
told me, right before he left, that he liked the coincidence that he had served
as both the Commander of the 17th Astrofighters and was then the commander of
Missile Ship Number 17, the Paladin. Would've been funny if I had gotten
command of that Group, huh, Hardy?"
"Yeah, said Hardy, as he
glanced at the memo.
"What does the CO want?," asked Wildstar.
"Not much. He just wants to
see me before class," said Hardy. "Guess ah'll
have to stop there before I meet my class. You were sayin'?"
"Well, who's in your
Group?"
"Well, ah told you ah have
five females, and five males that ah know of. Ah haven't received two a' my
jackets yet."
"Anyone
with combat experience?"
"Just
four. And half of 'em
are females."
"How's that?," asked
Wildstar.
"Well, a lot of these
pilots were former survey pilots or members of Living Groups that flew
Astro-Foxes, although not all of them were," said Hardy. "Six of them
flew 'Starseekers' ", said Hardy, referring to a colloquial name for the
Type 100 recon and liaison spaceplane, "…and three of them flew straight
Tigers on other assignments. One of 'em even flew Super Starfighters at one
time," said Hardy.
"I wonder why they did
that, Hardy?"
"Because the type of Tiger
they'll be flying is both a recon plane and a fighter, as you know. Some of the
pilots will be doing survey work in these planes, while others will be flying
recon-type assignments," said Hardy as he pulled a number of personnel
jackets out of his folder.
"That sounds a lot like
Nova's description," said Wildstar. "Is she in your squadron?"
"Not as far as ah
know...although, as I said, I've gotten only ten personnel jackets out of
twelve so far."
"Where's the rest?"
"Admin tells me they're
sending the last two over for me and they'll have 'em when I meet my squadron.
They say one jacket's being updated with an award citation, and the other's having
an Article 15 slip added to it."
"Who's the first combat
veteran that you were talking about?" asked Wildstar.
"The crazy one," said
Hardy. "Almost as crazy as you, Wildstah. Her
name's Tatiana Lubyanska, and she served on the Triton
Base on
"What's her record
like?"
"Seven kills in the battle
of Triton, and two kills in skirmishes beforehand with various loose Cometine
squadrons. Her only disciplinary problems have been related to fighting, would
ya believe?"
"Fighting?"
"Yeah,
Wildstah. She's
supposed t' be a tough little one. But she ain't mah biggest potential
disciplinary problem."
"Well, who is?"
"Someone who matches your
Bryan Hartcliffe in the amount of protocol violations and warnings for drinkin'
she's received. In one of those violations, as a matter of fact, ah think they
found her with Hartcliffe!"
"What's her name?"
asked Wildstar.
"Angelique Burkhardt,"
said Hardy. "Lookit her picture," said Hardy as he tossed over the
personnel jacket, held closed with a rubber band. "Ain't she a cute
one?"
Wildstar found himself staring
at a cute, deceptively innocent-looking young woman with golden blond hair,
large semi-rounded glasses, and dark brown doe-like eyes. "What's kept her
out of a court-martial?" asked Wildstar as he turned off the tape player
at the end of Rocky Raccoon.
"Her
record as a recon pilot. She served on the patrol cruiser
"Yeah."
"Well, her ship was doin'
picket duty, and she spotted the Cometines comin' in, got in a full report, and
managed to hightail her Astro-Fox back to the ship to make her report after
having been shot up a bit. She didn't suffer a scratch herself, though. Ah
think she's got a "Luck Factor" of 100 percent."
"Where'd they catch her and
Hartcliffe?"
"In a broom closet, on
Titan Base, six months ago, Wildstah," said Hardy while shaking his head.
"Report says she didn't seem to mind bein' with the boy, either. If he's
around...."
"Yeah. We'd better keep an eye on them."
"We'd better keep an eye on
them and on Tatiana. Even though Tatiana pulled a lot of brownie points out
there at Triton, rumor has it she's out to get the recon pilot that spotted the
planes…and she learned through the Scuttlebutt Express that Angie is that
pilot."
"WHY?" asked Wildstar.
"Easy. She wants to get the
person who got her in that furball in the first place. She feels it was all her
fault."
Wildstar took a deep breath.
"So, since you'll be assigning student flight leaders, based on grades,
I'd suggest that you assign someone with top grades as a tough flight leader
for Angie's flight and a tough flight leader for Tatiana's flight, and keep
them apart. If this Tatiana learns that Burkhardt is the one who got her in
this jam, she'll..."
"Word has it she
knows."
"Shoot," said
Wildstar. "Two people who hate each other in the same squadron. Just like
Hartcliffe and Hartmann."
"What's up with them?"
"Word has it those two have
a rivalry that makes my old thing with Venture seem tame by comparison. But
that's my problem," said Wildstar, sipping at his coffee. "What about
yours?"
"Well, ah tried to get
Angie transferred out, but they said no dice...and ah didn't know what the hell
ah'd do and ah still don't."
"Don't you have to go
soon?" asked Wildstar.
"Oh, yeah, I do."
"Have a nice day, and good
luck," said Wildstar calmly as he and Hardy exchanged salutes.
VI. TIGER IN A TRAP
Earth
Federal Megalopolis
Idlewild Space Naval Air
Station
Building 301
November 23, 2201
0756 Hours-Spacetime
"At ease," ordered the
muscular dark-haired officer from behind his mirror-lensed aviator glasses as
Hardy relaxed a little before his desk in the luxuriously carpeted office. The
nameplate on the desk read CAPT. RAYMOND PRICEMAN, but everyone and his
grandfather referred to this tough former pilot and CAG (he had been the first
Carrier Air Group Commander of the spacecraft carrier Hornet until
October, not long before Saturn-Titan and his latest promotion) as the
"Iceman" because of his cold, uncompromising manner.
"First," said
Priceman. "I'd like to give you a little friendly advice, Hardy. Your Star
Force has been known for its bravery, but it's also been somewhat known for a
lack of discipline. I'd just like you to understand that I like to run a very
tight ship here. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?"
"Yessir," said Hardy.
"Next," said Priceman.
" I will tell you, again as all the others will
be told, that it is imperative to keep a firm hand on your trainees. We don't
need any shenanigans or garbage in this training. We need people trained to fly
these planes, and trained to fly them as efficiently as possible. I asked for
some of Earth's best officers at this base, and it looks like Command followed
my request. Don't let me down, Mister."
"Yessuh," said Hardy
firmly.
"I don't think much,
between you and I, of the idea of training so many
women in your squadron, if you'd ask me," said Priceman.
"Permission to speak
candidly, suh?," asked Hardy.
"Granted."
"Neither do
I. Ah think they'll be nothin' but trouble."
Priceman nodded his head.
"I honestly don't think women belong in the cockpit of high-performance
astrofighters at all, if you ask me. Still...we have something of a temporary
shortage of trained personnel, so Command's inflicting them upon us. I want no
trouble, no catfights, and NO instances of fraternization among your trainee
pilots, or, for that matter, among your people and people from the other five
Groups I'm training here. If it happens, and I can trace any of this back to
you, I will have you in here for a gripe-out session, Mister Hardy, the Comet
Empire notwithstanding."
"Yessir."
Captain Priceman then gave Hardy
two personnel jackets. Hardy noticed one was rather thick, and began to look at
it, but Priceman snapped, "You can look over it later, Mister. That one
belongs to a double Sunburst of Honor winner. I expect you to use her to keep
the other females in line. Like it or not, she's proven herself in my book,
although NOT, I stress, as a Recon/Fighter pilot."
Hardy began to ask,
"Suh...a DOUBLE Sunburst of Honuh winnuh? Who is she?"
Priceman snapped, "You'll
be meeting her in ten minutes, Mister. And I want you to keep your eye out in
regards to this other pilot. He's named Wainwright, and he's something of an
idiot. We just gave him an Article 15 for malingering. He's a major attitude
problem. If he does something else, I'd like you to see me so we can arrange to
have him up before me again. If he doesn't wash out, that is."
"Wainwright's the bad one.
Name of the other one? Just kinda curious..."
"No time. Take your
jackets...and get over to your classroom ASAP. I think they're waiting for
you."
"Yessuh." The two men exchanged salutes and Hardy
left.
Hardy checked his wristwatch as
he washed his face in the Men's head. Ten minutes left. Not bad. He
dried his face, and opened his portfolio to glance at his lesson outline. Nine
minutes left. Not bad, he thought. Maybe I'm gonna survive this heah
day.
He checked his hair. It looked
okay. Eight minutes left. His uniform looked fine. He stepped out in the
corridor and took a drink at the fountain. His mouth felt a little less dry.
Then, Hardy went up the stairwell
to the third floor. He passed Room 301 and started a little as he heard
Wildstar's voice through the closed door. Glancing through the window, Hardy
saw that Derek had begun class early, and was already pointing to various parts
of a huge pull-down schematic of a Super Starfighter.
Voice, presence, poise, thought Hardy as he walked down the
corridor towards the closed door of Room 302. Command
presence, boy. And don't tolerate insubordination from any of them.
Shoot. Six minutes left. What am I gonna do? Ah'm dead, you heah me Lord, ah'm
dead!
"You think it's going to be
hard?" whispered a young man who was sitting right behind Ensign Angelique
Burkhardt in Room 302. There were twenty-four high-backed briefing chairs, like
in a ship's ready room, permanently attached to the deck in the classroom. All
of them faced a dais that held a podium, a blackboard, a huge video panel, and
a section for pull-down schematics in rolls in a carrier. However, only twelve
of the seats were filled, so the students sat three to a row in the rows of
six, with one seat between each student, even though each student had someone
either behind or ahead of them. Seating had been by a predetermined seating
chart, and each student had been assigned a seat, a seat where each would sit
during all of ground school and during subsequent meetings of the group each
morning in this classroom.
"I don't think so. What's
your name?"
"Pearson. Ted Pearson. I'm
just an Ensign, ma'am...and..."
"That's all right,"
said Angie with a soft smile, softly flipping some of her blond hair up over
her white uniform collar. "We'll make it through this together, all of
us."
"Really?" he
whispered. "Look at your friends up there...the dark-haired
girl...and...."
"And who?" asked
Angie.
"You know. Her. She's already filled out the Orientation packet and
she's starting on her notebook. I've never met someone with a record like
that...let alone sat through training with someone that famous. "
"She's like the rest of us.
She's here to learn," whispered Angie. "And as for that other girl,
she's no friend of mine. She's...."
"Do I hear you talking
about me, Burkhardt?" asked a raven-haired girl with piercing blue eyes
who spoke in a whisper, but with a menacing Slavic accent.
"Not really," said
Angie. "I'm simply mentioning that I don't really know you that
well."
"Good," she said.
"Because I'm going to do so well here that I'm going to make you wash out,
Burkhardt. Then you can go home to
"Excuse me," said the
honey-blonde who sat one seat to the right of Tatiana Lubyanska. "Aren't
we supposed to be quiet until the instructor shows up, Tatiana?"
Tatiana was about to snap a
retort at Nova Forrester, but she thought better of it when she compared Nova's
blue uniform collar (her prerogative as a Group Leader and Senior Lieutenant)
to her own white Junior Lieutenant's collar. So Tatiana replied, "She's
right, darlink," while looking acidly right at Burkhardt. "I think
we'd do well to stifle our impulses, wouldn't you agree?"
Angie nodded coldly, wondering
exactly what Tatiana had against her. She had never even met the girl
face-to-face until PT that morning, and it seemed that, for some reason,
Lubyanska just hated her on sight. She had been staring her down constantly
while Nova, by virtue of her rank as the senior-most student of the squadron,
had led the Red Centaurs through their calisthenics and run around the base
that morning when they had met in formation before the Base monument on the
cold parade ground, just as eleven other training squadrons were led through
their morning routines in sweats by the senior student present as an exercise
in group bonding. Angie wondered if Tatiana had tried to elbow her during part
of the morning run. She had no idea if that was the case or not, so she had
said nothing to anyone.
Angie also swore that, during
the run, she had glimpsed Bryan Hartcliffe in one of the other training
squadrons that ran past them in their run around the base. If that was the
case...well, if that was the case, then Angie knew that she'd have to watch
herself. That time with
In short, at this point,
Angelique Burkhardt didn't know if she loved Bryan Hartcliffe for being an
adventurous party animal (somewhat like herself) or hated him for being such a
cad. The nerve of him, getting me drunk like that and then taking advantage of
me...even though it was so much fun being taken advantage of, she
thought as she found herself sketching a picture of him on a blank page of her
notebook, and then found herself scribbling it out as she looked up for the
instructor.
Looking down towards the door,
she spotted Nova Forrester, of all people, looking out the window with
something like an almost dreamy look on her face as an authoritative voice that
Angie didn't recognize filtered through the wall of the next classroom,
somewhat muffled by distance and the substance of the wall itself. Angie caught
Nova writing something in her notebook, and then looking down, glancing through
long-lashed eyes at the notebook before fixing her gaze on the door.
Is she looking for the
instructor...or thinking about something else before class starts? thought Angie, totally unaware that the
authoritative but quiet senior officer of their squadron had been on a similar
wavelength with her for a moment, but from a different end of the spectrum,
namely because she recognized, all too well, the voice in the next room that
sounded like a blur to Angie and the others. But, while Angie was thinking
about an illicit romp in a closet with Bryan Hartcliffe, Nova Forrester had
been writing, in small, fine letters in her notebook: the words: November
23, 2201--. So close...and yet so far. I wish the
instructor would show up. Hearing HIM in the next room is just driving me mad!
Why hasn't class started yet? Worse yet, why isn't it December 26th yet?
Luckily, no one saw Nova's small
note to herself...a note she'd dutifully transcribe in her diary that night, as
was her wont. Likewise, no one saw the doodle that Angie Burkhardt had
drawn...a doodle she was blushing at as she looked through the scrawled lines
on her paper.
Angie looked up at the clock. 8:14,
she thought. When's that guy coming in?
8:14, thought Tatiana as she finished filling
out her orientation packet. When's that instructor showing up so that I
don't have to concentrate on this vapid Amerikanski next to me with the freaky
glasses who almost cost me my life?
8:14, thought Nova as she covered over her
diary entry with the first page of what would be her notes, with spaces
prepared for the instructor's name, office location, and office hours. It was
just as she had done for three years, without fail, during her time at the
8:14, thought Hardy as he stood outside, making
sure his lecture notes were ready. I hope I don't make a jackass outta
myself today....
Hardy then checked his
chronograph. 8:15, he thought. Launch!
Thinking that
it would be a neat idea, since he thought it was cool when the old-line
instructors like Commodore Hoshiyama, Admiral Gideon, and Rear Admiral Eckart had
started class each morning in this manner at the Space Fighters' Training
School, Hardy made a decision. He was going to give them some old-line military snap on their
first day. He was sure everyone in that room had either been exposed to those
old salts or someone like them in their careers as cadets regardless of whether
or not they had gone to the SFTS or some private school where they had been in
ROTC. He walked up towards the door, pivoted, and then rapped smartly three
times on the doorjamb before opening the door.
His blood froze a little as he
heard the unmistakable voice of Nova snap, "Room, ATTENTION!," as she
came to her feet, followed swiftly by eleven others, with the whole room at
attention when he opened the door and strode in, giving the room a sharp glance
before walking up to the podium and snapping his portfolio down sharply onto
the podium.
"Good mornin', class,"
snapped Hardy.
"Good morning, SIR!"
snapped all twelve trainees, their instincts and thoughts submerged in the group
mind for the moment.
Hardy stood there, looking at
the class. Ah don't believe it, he thought. I got Nova in mah class.
The same lady that Buzz, Kayan and I did up with shavin' cream is one a' mah
students! Oh, GREAAAT! If ah mess up, Wildstar's gonna KILL me! Still, gotta
carry on!
"All hands...SEATS!"
he snapped.
Everyone, at once, sat down, and
sat with their pens at the ready.
"Good morning, everyone,
mah name is Senior Lieutenant Jefferson Hardy. I'm heah because I've been
assigned to teach all of you how to fly the Cosmo Tiger II, Type 2A, an all-purpose, multi-mission Astrofighter/Recon
Aerospaceplane. Today, all of you are the 17th Astrofighter-Reconnaissance
Group, known informally as the "Red Centaurs." Our purpose, and ouh
mission, is to learn the specifications, mechanics, and particulars of the
Cosmo Tiger II, Type 2A on the ground, put yuh in a simulator for a short time,
and then put you in the real bird, first, with an instructor, and then in solo
flight."
"After all of yew pass your
solo check flight, provided you all pass, we will then concentrate on learning
the fighter and reconnaissance tactics yew will all need to know to survive in
the atmosphere and in space as a group. Then, if we have time, and if such a
vessel becomes available because of the current material situation of the
Fleet, ah'd like to have all of yew practice takeoffs from and landings aboard
a capital warship before we progress to the final stage.
That final stage will be a
simulated mission in which all of you will have the opportunity and the
imperative to practice your recon skills and fighter tactics in a simulated
battle that could easily make you a casualty in real life at full weapons
powuh. It will be so challenging that if you mess up your flyin', you won't
have to worry about washin' out, no more, 'cause you'll either be in a hospital
bed for ages or standin' up before the Pearly Gates. However, none o' you are
gonna mess up like that this cycle. See, the base commander's got a chip on his
shoulder because two of his instructors screwed up and let people die in the
last trainin' cycle. I ain't planning' on letting anyone die. If someone here
doesn't have the right stuff, I'd sooner wash you out and letcha live than see
you...mess up and die and take several million credits' worth of Government
Property with yew!"
"If none o' you think you
have the...stuff..." said Hardy, correcting himself yet again,
substituting "stuff" for "cuyones"
in his rant because he knew that 50% of his students didn't possess the anatomy
necessary for that comment to make any sense as he paused.
"If you think you don't have it, then you
can march outta here, go see Captain Priceman, and request assignment to
somethin' safer and less challenging than high-performance recon/fighter
trainin' in the new model! Anyone want to leave?"
asked Hardy as he walked over to the door and threw it open.
No one left.
"Good," he said as he
quietly shut the door and took his place again. "Now, let's get those
orientation packets done. Before we begin, I'll go around the room. I'm sure
all of you got acquainted this mornin' durin' PT, but if yew didn't, I'll have
every one of you sound off as I take your packet from you, givin'
your name, rank, Group Assignment, and last assignment so we know what this new
squadron's made of. Got that?"
Everyone nodded.
"Then, after we do that,
I'll start telling' you all about the Cosmo Tiger II, Type 2A. You've got five
minutes. Finish your packets if you haven't already!"
Hardy leaned against the podium
and took a welcome breath as he watched the students filling out their packets.
These were basically several sheets of paper stapled together to form a
questionnaire in which each student gave their name, rank, quarters location,
experience, awards, honors, and decorations, flight experience, and ultimate
service goals, including assignments hoped-for in the next six months.
Five minutes passed as everyone
wrote, with those who had completed their packets going over them again. Hardy
gave them an extra minute, and then, he strode back to the rear of the room, to
the far corner, near the windows.
"I'll take that," he
said, taking the papers from a young Afro-American woman. "Sound
off, would'ja?"
"Sir, my name is Pamela
Daniels. My rank is Ensign, and I've been a Living Officer. My last assignment
was as an environmental survey officer in
"All right," said
Hardy. "Next."
"Sir," said a young
Oriental man as he came to his feet. "My name's Junior Lieutenant Yasuo
Kirishima. My last assignment was at Moonbase, where I flew a Cosmo Tiger as
part of one of the Groups flying from the Moon Surface Air Station. I got to bring
down a Cometine recon plane during the crisis, but I was on medical leave due
to an inner-ear virus when Zordar attacked and melted the moon and killed many
of my comrades. Since I've been assigned to learn Recon duty, I hope that my
next assignment will be aboard a new carrier, where I can spot any enemy forces
and report them ASAP."
Hardy nodded, and went on to the
next officer. "Sir," said a red-haired young woman as she came to her
feet. "My name's Lieutenant Colleen Schaefer. My last assignment was
aboard the patrol cruiser
"Good sentiment," said
Hardy, "but recon pilots don't LOOK for trouble. They look to get out of
it. Your weapons are meant to give yuh that chance, not to settle scores.
Next?" he said as he went over the far portion of the next row.
"Sir," said a
dark-haired young woman. "My name's Ensign Tania Carefay.
"I last served in
"The Star Force?" said
a mocking, Russian-accented voice from the front of the room as several persons
chuckled. Hardy raised his hand and snapped, "If anyone else laughs or
makes any rude comments, you'll be doin' PT with me after class in mah office!
Ah don't need no malarkey today! GOT THAT?"
Silence reigned for a moment.
"Good. Most o' yew probably heard where ah been last. Anyone in this room
can get there given the proper determination and skills, so it ain't a joke to
think any o' you can make it there. Some o' us have, and we're just people who
put on our pants one leg at a time like the rest o' you! No one in this heah
room is a plaster saint, and no one in heah is little Mister or Miss Nobody!
GOT that?!" snapped Hardy, surprised that his thoughts were coming that
fast.
Silence reigned again as Hardy
went to the next person. "You are?"
"Sir, my name's Ensign John
Wainwright," said a tall, thin, man with his dark hair in a crewcut as he
stood up and Hardy thought Yoah the one the Old Man warned me about. What's
yoah problem?
Hardy looked on as Wainwright
continued with, "I last served on Mars Base. I was a recon pilot flying a
Starseeker. Never been in combat, though. I'd like,
sir, to serve on a carrier in a recon squadron. I've got no scores to
settle...I'm just Joe Average, I guess," he joked. "That's all there
is to it."
Hardy went on to the next
person, a stocky man who wore a senior officer's blue collar. "You
are?"
"Sir, my name's Senior
Lieutenant Eric Wojneski," said the young dark-haired man. "I last
served on the spacecraft carrier Hornet where I flew a Tiger. I was home
on emergency leave due to a death in the family when Admiral Gideon called the
Fleet to Saturn-Titan, and so, I guess I missed everything. I liked the
camaraderie as a squadron member on the Hornet, and I'd like to be on
another boat soon as a Recon Squadron leader. However, I'll settle for a base
if I have to go anywhere else. That's all, sir."
"Okay," said Hardy as
he mentally pegged the mature Wojneski as a potential flight leader, and not
just by virtue of his rank, either.
"Going down the line
again....you are?"
"Ensign Zvi Mendelmann, sir.
I flew a Type 100, and served as an environmental survey pilot flying out of
"So am I," said Hardy.
"You sound like yew have a good attitude. Next.
Yew are?"
"Sir, my name's Ensign Ted
Pearson," said the young blond-haired man confidently. "I flew an
Astro-Fox out of Mars Base until recently, and I'd like to take the new model
and fly recon missions out of the outer solar system. I'm looking forward to
flying the new model, sir. That's that."
"Next?" said Hardy,
standing before an Afro-American man.
"Sir, my name's Lieutenant
Gabe Jackson. I flew both Type 100's and Super Starfighters in my career. My
last assignment was to the 23rd Interceptor Squadron, the Silver Foxes, flying missions out of Ganymede Base. When Zordar showed up,
I took care of some stragglers. And if anyone here thinks combat is fun, it's not...not when you see your buddies buy the farm out in deep
space. I'd like to get on a carrier or battlewagon if I can, when we build
more. Never flown off a ship before, so I'd like to
learn."
"Good career
objective," said Hardy. "Now, ah'm up heah in the front row," he
said, looking down at Forrester, Lubyanska and Burkhardt. "If yew don't
maind a joke, if any one a' you gives me a guy's name, you'h in trouble!," he snapped, making the room laugh a bit. "Now,
hopin' that yew three ain't named Frank, Steve, or
Joe," he said, going on down to Angie, "Would you mind telling me
your name?"
"Sir, my name's Ensign
Angelique Burkhardt. I was in combat, and, well, I flew a Starseeker," she
said in her breathy California-type voice as two guys in the back of the room
snickered.
"Who was that?" barked
Hardy.
"Us, sir," said
Kirishima and Wainwright as they stood to attention.
"And why were you laughing
at Miss Burkhardt?"
"Because, sir, she sounds
like she's from
"Yeah. We thought she sounded like she came
straight from the beach," said Kirishima.
"Well, can she help where
she comes from?" snapped Hardy. "Can you, Kirishima, help it cause you come from
"No,
sir."
"You remain standin' until
we're done! After everyone's done, you two idiots will meet me on the parade
ground, drop and gimme thirty good ones. GOT
THAT!??"
"YESSIR!" they barked.
"Continue, Miss
Burkhardt!" snapped Hardy.
"I...well...I flew my
Starseeker off the patrol cruiser
"Be seated, then,"
said Hardy. "Next. YOU," snapped Hardy as he pointed at Tatiana.
"Sir, my name's Tatiana
Lubyanska. I was in combat, too. I had seven kills in the battle of Triton,
flying a single-seat Cosmo Tiger II. I enjoy fighting and I enjoy combat! My
most exciting moment, recently, was seeing three Cometines fall prey to my
lasers in just two minutes flat! However, I'd like to diversify my career a
little, so I'd like to serve a hitch flying recon planes, as well. I got my
wish, sir. I consider myself lucky. Someday, I would like to command a fighter
Group of my own, though. That's my life goal, sir."
"Well, you're smart, you're
tough, and you don't have an assertiveness problem," snapped Hardy.
"But heah, remember that yoah heah to learn, not to teach US what to do,
and especially not me!"
"Now, last of all, for
you," he said, facing Nova. "You are?"
"Sir, my name's Nova
Forrester. I've been in combat recently, although not in a plane. The last
thing that I flew was a Type 100, and all my flight time's been in survey and
recon missions. My last assignment, where I didn't fly much, was aboard the
space battleship Argo. I...I think everyone here knows what we did
recently. My most terrifying moment recently was seeing Prince Zordar himself
laughing at us over our video screen. I'd like to go back on the Argo at
some point soon and explore some more interesting places, but my ultimate goal
in life is to become a medical officer and help people. I've...already seen too
much fighting. It's not pretty, and it's not glorious. I recently heard someone
tell me "War does not allow us to be our better selves", and
he was absolutely right."
Everyone was silent, until
Lubyanska whispered, "Ma'am, whoever told you that must have been a real
WIMPSKI!"
"Lubyanska!" barked
Hardy, who made Tatiana jump.
"Yes...Yessir," she
said.
"You get back up. When
Kirishima and Wainwright give me their thirty after class, yoah givin' me, FORTY, Miss! On yoah feet! NOW!"
Tatiana stood up.
"If I've told you once,
I've told all of you twice," barked Hardy. "This is not a GAME! We
are in a deadly, nasty business! War's a serious thing! Anyone who's been there
and thinks it's fun is a sick puppy! You all got
that?"
"Yes, SIR!" barked the
class.
"I can't HEAH you!"
yelled Hardy.
"Yes, SIR!" they
yelled, not feeling so bad when they heard the class in the next room going
through a similar exchange. Over the silence, Nova clearly heard Derek barking,
"and if YOU think it's funny, Mister Hartcliffe,
you can do pushups ALL day out on that parade field, Mister!"
"Are we ready to teach,
yet?" asked Hardy.
"Yessir!" barked the
class, but Nova put up her hand.
"Yes. Recognized, if you
have somethin' to contribute!" barked Hardy. "Stand up and spit it
out!"
Nova came to her feet and said,
"For the information of those who don't know where I recently heard the
expression "War does not allow us to be our better selves..."
I heard it personally from Desslok of Gamilon before he told us how to defeat
the Comet Empire, sir. More than ever, I maintain that our former enemy was
correct. I think today we've seen more than enough evidence of that, sir. If I
can speak freely, I think it's a shame, especially since we're seeing that sort
of behavior on our side. But we shouldn't prejudge anyone. If Desslok can
change, so can anyone else."
"Thank you, Miss Forrester.
That was a worthy contribution," said Hardy. "But if yew forget to
gain the floor, yew'll be in mah office doin' pushups
with the other jokers that day, and that goes for any one of yew! GOT it?"
he said, rolling up his eyes at the class.
"YESSIR!,"
they barked.
"Now, " said Hardy as
he turned to the board, rolling up his eyes again and shaking his head while
the miscreants sat down after he motioned for them to do so, "...let's
take a look at the design of the Cosmo Tiger II, Model 2A," he said, as he
pulled down a chart. "The plane is built in the following manner...."
On that note, Hardy's class
progressed, going on without further incident until lunchtime, when the
miscreants spent their time with Hardy doing their punishments. Little was
Hardy to know that so much of the training cycle was thus prophesied the very
first day....
VII. DARK DISCOVERY
Garalenda System
The Edge of the Milky Way
Vicinity of the Former Fifth
Defense
Line of the Gamilon Empire
November 25, 2201
0942 Hours-Spacetime
Just twelve or so Earth days
after their final confrontation with the Star Force, the Gamilon Fleet arrived
at the edge of the Garalenda System.
Desslok had just come back up to
the command bridge of the Eliasite. Talan could tell, based upon his
walk and the deliberation on his face, that Desslok
had come to a decision.
"Talan?,"
he said.
"Yessir."
"Open up a link to the
entire Fleet. The time has come. I must speak to all of our men and women
throughout the Fleet. Have them gathered and on station before their viewscreens as soon as possible."
"Yessir!" said Talan
with a smile, and more than a hint of determination in his voice. At last,
he thought.
Soon, every Gamilon throughout
the Fleet was at attention. A moment later, Desslok's image appeared throughout
the Fleet.
"Officers and soldiers of
Gamilon," said Desslok. "Again, I salute you! The honor of Gamilon,
our homeland, has just been tested, and we have prevailed, although not in the
manner that I anticipated..." said Desslok with a long,
and significant pause. "Gentlemen, with the passing of our alliance with
the Prince Zordar of the Comet Empire, and the defeat of the Gatlantis
mothership near Earth, one era of Gamilon history has just ended, and a new one
is now about to dawn!"
"For a long time, we have
been homeless, living as strangers in far places. I thank you again for all
that we have borne together, and all that we will yet bear."
"When we first reunited,
even as my heart burned with the flame of vengeance, I felt I was fighting hard
to save Gamilon. Even though our war with Earth has ended...do not make the
mistake of thinking that its intended end, the desire to save the Gamilon race,
has ended with it!"
"The universe extends to
infinity. Somewhere, at the end of our journey, a new home, a new Gamilon,
awaits our arrival. Today, we shall begin our quest for the new homeworld that
awaits us. Here, today, we shall take our first step, as we make way for
Garalenda. Here, we will begin to rebuild the Fleet, so that we will be ready
for the day when we again have our home, the day when our new, better way of
life shall begin at last!"
"On that day, gentlemen, we
shall again begin to forge a new Empire from the ashes of our long war; and it
shall be an Empire based upon our most urgent need; the defense of our new
homeland! For that reason, and for that reason above
all, we will need to be strong. Here, we shall remain in order to begin
rebuilding. Then, we shall head further into our old domain, to Miralden, near
our old Third Defense Line. Then, our quest will truly commence!"
"Gentlemen, I would now
like to extend my appreciation for all you have done and all you have borne,
and I would like to tell you that, from this day forth, I shall expect even
more! Together, we will at long last return home to a new homeland!"
At that, all of the troops
saluted and began to cheer loudly.
Desslok returned the salute, as
Talan turned to him and said, "Again...Magnificent!"
When the cheering died down,
Desslok was about to open his mouth to speak again, but he stopped when he saw
a grey-clad staff officer approaching Talan with a message padd.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Leader Desslok," said
the officer. "We have just made contact with one of our picket destroyers
operating from out of Garalenda..."
"...And?" asked
Desslok.
"The destroyer's crew
reported that they were attacked not long ago, just before our arrival."
"Attacked?" asked
Desslok as his face hardened. "But...by whom?"
"They reported that their
communications equipment was damaged, so they regret not being able to send a
clearer picture," said the staff officer as a hazy image appeared on the
screen. "This was the image that they picked up before they intercepted
the enemy and sent it to its end, with the loss of half the destroyer's crew in
the battle..."
A moment later, the blurry image
of a missile boat appeared on the screen. Talan's eyebrows went up for a
moment; since the coloration was totally unfamiliar to him. The enemy boat was
painted in a strange two-tone grey scheme; light grey on most of its
superstructure, with a dark, almost charcoal-grey underbelly and tail.
The configuration, however, was
not unfamiliar to Talan, and it was even more familiar to Desslok, whose mouth
came grimly set as he thought about the import of the missile boat's
configuration.
"Cometines," he
hissed. "One of their Space Scorpion boats, Talan."
"What are they doing out
here?" mused Talan.
"General Dyre once boasted
to me that Zordar's House controlled all of our old domains. It appears his
boast was not an idle one, Talan," said Desslok with gritted teeth.
"But, those aren't the
colors of Zordar's House, are they?" asked Talan.
"No, they're not,"
said Desslok. "As to which House they are...I have an
inkling, but we shall have to capture and ...interview...a pilot of
theirs to be certain. I am certain of one fact, though, Talan."
"And that is?"
"Their intentions are not
friendly," said Desslok. "And, as long as they stand in our way, or,
make any sort of move to threaten any of my allies, old, or new, my intentions
toward them will be far from felicitous, either. Am I clear, Talan?"
"Yessir," he snapped.
"Good. In order for our
enemies...whomever they are, to be aware of the same, we will remain at a high
level of alert until we reach Garalenda. Order our fighter patrols to take off
at once to maintain our inner perimeter. Our destroyers will maintain our outer
perimeter, as usual."
"Of course, sir," said
Talan.
Again, it begins, thought Desslok grimly as Gamilon
fighters and bombers began to roar off the carrier's flight decks. And,
again, we have a cause to fight for...and intruders to oppose.
"Cometine...devils..."
hissed Desslok to himself as he stared out into space.
VIII. ...OVER DINNER
Earth
Federal Megalopolis
Idlewild Space Naval Air
Station
Building 400
November 26, 2201
1806 Hours-Eastern Standard
Time
A few days later, on Thursday,
Hardy and Wildstar got together again over a rushed dinner in the commissary at
about 1800. Hardy asked Wildstar how it was going for him, and Derek told him,
"Good group...just have two with shaky grades on the first test."
"Who?"
"This guy named Tannenberg,
and this female named Carroway," said Wildstar as he took several bites of
food. "What about you?" he said after a minute.
"I have four," said
Hardy. "Don't know what's with these trainees."
"Hardy, is it true you
don't like this bunch because they're half females?"
"Yoah
right! Who told
yuh?" he asked.
"Scuttlebutt. That's all," said Wildstar.
"No trainees from your squadron have been talking to me about this at all,
in case you were wondering. For one thing, most of them don't know me. For
another thing...those who do...make a pointed practice of keeping quiet about
your training other than the usual pleasantries about your doing a great job
and being fair."
"Glad to heah I'm bein'
fair," said Hardy. "I'm tryin' to be...but still...I don't like
it."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't feel very gallant
about trainin' a young lady to go out and shoot down an enemy pilot, because ah
don't think it's womanly, and I can't see the idea of some young lady bein'
shot down or crashin' her plane. It even happens in trainin', ya know. Someone
from the White Vipers turned into a grease spot on Tuesday, ya know..."
"Yeah," said Wildstar.
"I know."
"How do you feel about
it?"
"I don't feel very gallant
doing this sort of thing, either," said Wildstar. "For example: my
trainee Laurel Hartmann is really good. Much better than I
expected. She's picking up things about the Super Starfighter that I
have to think about to remember; and I've been flying the plane regularly for
over two years."
"Such
as?"
"Tech
data. Maximum
airspeed; rate of weapons fire, details about the fire control
computer...heads-up-display...best tactics and maneuvers the plane can
fly...you name it...she seems to know it word-perfect."
Hardy took a deep breath.
"Hell...Got someone laike that in my squadron, too. Knows stuff about the
Taiguh I'm surprised about; stuff like the chemical composition of the primer
warhead for the missile. Person's seeming to remember
it by comparin' it to the organic benzene ring!"
"What's this person's
gender?"
"Female."
"Let me guess; life-science
background?"
"The only
one theh with a full nursin' certification."
"And...was
she Star Force?," asked Wildstar with a grim sort of grin.
Hardy just nodded. "And ah
think you know who I'm talkin' about. Shoot...she's HARD to trip up in class
discussions."
"Class rank?"
"Somewhere
between first and second outta twelve."
"Like Hartmann," grins Wildstar. "Funny...isn't it? We both have misgivings
about these females in fighter planes...but they're blowing the doors off the
rest of the class."
"This is ground school.
Wait until we put them in a cockpit," said Hardy.
"That's what I'm worried
about," said Wildstar. "And...not only for
the most obvious reason. I'm worried about it, too."
"Can ah heah why?"
"Well," began Wildstar
with a swallow. "You know that flying a fighter is inherently dangerous.
You know I've always hated writing those condolence letters to widows, mothers,
girlfriends...children of those left behind when
someone messed up on the Argo on any one of her missions. I don't like
seeing those portraits go up over graves at Heroes' Hill...for anyone. But, for
a fighting man...you come to expect it," said Wildstar with a sigh.
"I hate sending people to die...but it's part of
our profession. A part I don't like, but a part I live with."
"Ah know what cha
mean."
"But...when you have a
female in that position...it makes it worse," sighed Wildstar. "You
remember Kristin Barrows...from our first mission to Iscandar? The sergeant in Living Group with two kids?"
Hardy nodded, but added,
"Two kids...?"
"And a
husband ill with radiation sickness. When we got home from Iscandar...I felt obligated to visit
those children in the orphanage...tell them how brave they were...and how brave
their mother was...and tell them a little of how she died at Rainbow Galaxy.
They cried. I didn't. Not then. I cried later on, though...luckily..."
"Nova helped ya through
that one. Ah remember it. She talked to me about it a night later, after one of
the parties you didn't make..."
"Yeah. And that's the hardest point of all.
This Laurel...I know she doesn't have children...but what if she crashed and
then...burned…was injured...or even died? How would I face her parents, Hardy?
How would I face her boyfriend...if she has one? How could I tell another man
that the person he cherishes the most in the whole world is dead...and it might
be my fault for not teaching her enough?"
Hardy took a very deep breath,
and couldn't look Wildstar in the eye. "Wildstah...now yew know exactly
what ah'm goin' through teachin' all six of those
females in mah squadron...especially..."
"I know," said
Wildstar as he grasped Hardy's hand across the table. "I guess...now you
know...why I don't feel too great about...well...females in planes. The
danger's much too great...and the risks they take...they..."
Wildstar suddenly stopped
talking as soon as someone handed him a fresh plastic cup of tomato juice from
behind without even asking. Hardy's mouth fell open as the newcomer softly
said, "Gentlemen...EVERYONE here will be taking a risk next week when we
start to fly...instructors... as WELL as trainees."
"Nova...I...,"
stammered Wildstar as he turned his head to look his fiancée in the eye.
"You can't sit heah,"
grinned Hardy. "Students can't fraternize with instructors. You know the
rules, Nova."
"Then, you'll have to
leave, sir, won't you?" grinned Nova. "You see, I'm just sitting down
beside my fiancée, thank you," said Nova as she sat down.
"See ya later, Hardy,"
said Wildstar.
"No, wait," said
Hardy. " Belay that. I'm stayin'.
I'll just pretend you ain't heah, Nova."
"Good. I'll pretend I
didn't hear that, sir," smiled Nova sweetly. "As I was saying, I
worry about the instructor of one of these squadrons just as much as he worries
about one of our trainees. The last time I checked...I heard that it was nearly
as risky for experienced instructors to fly Super Starfighters as it is for
trainees to fly Tigers. And....instructors also leave behind
widows...orphans...and bereaved fiancées...when they crash...just like female
pilots who have the misfortune of being in accidents. If men take risks...so
can women...GENTLEMEN," said Nova sternly.
"You're right," said
Derek after a long, awkward moment. "But I still want you to be
careful...don't try to show everyone up...remember...this is just
training..."
"I'll remember that if a
certain Super Starfighter pilot I know remembers that he's supposed to be an
instructor and not a hotshot up there," retorted Nova with a little smile.
"Got that?"
"Yeah," said Wildstar.
"Uh, where are you going?
"I forgot a tomato juice, Derek. I'll be right back," said Nova quickly and quietly.
"Your top student, I take
it?" asked Wildstar with a slow grin.
"Shoot, don't rub it in,
suh," whispered Hardy.
"She's earned it,"
said Wildstar. "I came by the other night to drop something off, and she
had her nose in every reference manual on the Cosmo Tiger II that you could
think of. When Nova studies, believe me, she studies."
"And, she's already got a
special job, even though she doesn't know it. Her classroom grades'll justify
it," said Hardy seriously.
"What in blazes are you
assigning her to, Hardy?"
"Easy. She's
gonna be the leader of the flight that ah'm putting both Angie and Tatiana in.
Ah figure if Nova kept Knox and his hardened, rough Space Marines in line
without throwing a punch, she'll find it a piece of cake to baby-sit two other
females. Solves mah problem easy as pie, Wildstah. Didja pull this one off for me?"
"No...I didn't," said
Wildstar angrily. "And, if you don't train Nova with one hundred and
twenty percent of your attention, keep her from crashing her plane, and keep
her out of trouble, Hardy, you're dead meat," said Wildstar with fire in
his eyes. "Got that?"
"Whooo,"
said Hardy. "And ah thought you were gonna be mad at me, Wildstah!"
At that, both men looked at each
other angrily and began to laugh uproariously to break the tension. Their
laughter grew louder, and louder, and Wildstar almost fell off his chair.
A moment later, Nova showed back
up, looking bemused at the two men as she stood there holding an extra cup of
tomato juice. She got their attention by clearing her throat a few times.
When Derek and Hardy finally
looked over, Nova smiled again. "Good," she said. "Thank you.
You two can get back to your little joke in a few minutes, after I give Hardy
this tomato juice, even though, of course, it's a gift you don't deserve, any
more than I deserved that shaving cream," added, looking at Hardy.
"What do you mean?"
asked Hardy.
"You know what I
mean," said Nova with a frosty smile as she sat down.
"Well, WHAT do you
mean?" asked Wildstar insistently, as he turned to glare at Hardy.
"
"What do you mean?"
said Derek in a deadly low voice. "And what was that about shaving
cream?"
"Well...." said Hardy. "Uh...it was her friend Natalie that got the most of
it...and...Nova...ah'm really sorry. Ah didn't mean
it!"
"Hardy. Are you saying you smeared shaving cream
in my fiancée's hair the other day down in
"Just a little....uhh...so
we wouldn't discriminate....and it was Buzz's idea...and..."
Wildstar glowered at Hardy,
until an idea occurred to him. "Hardy, if this had been any other time,
and in any other situation with Nova, I'd be livid. Totally
livid. But, I've learned to control myself. Really.
And, as a concession to your stupidity, you can just stand there in training
for the next few days, trying to earn back the respect of one of your own while
you lecture her, without a word of advice from me, and a repeat of what I said
before. If you mess up, Hardy, and get her in any sort of trouble, you will be
in so much trouble, you won't know what to do. Got
it?"
"Yeah...ah
got it, Wildstah. Ah
got it," said Hardy in a cold sweat as both Derek and Nova looked at him.
Derek smiled to himself,
watching his comrade sweat. Revenge, thought Wildstar, is a dish best
served cold. And I understand it gets VERY cold in those classrooms....
Hardy then looked at Nova,
unsure of what she'd do, until she handed him a glass of tomato juice.
"This is a peace offering of sorts. Your apology is accepted," she
sighed. "I went up there and got another one when I remembered that you
liked that on the Argo almost as much as Derek did, Jeff," said
Nova to Hardy.
"Yeah...I did. Thanks, Nova.
But don't tell any of the other trainees you're into buyin' me tomato juice!
They'll think you're bribing me for good grades."
"I won't…sir..." said
Nova impishly. "I also won't tell them about how
a certain... female... helped patch you up on the Argo back in 2199
after you crashed a Black Tiger, okay?"
"Wildstar, once again, ah
think one of my students is engagin' in fraternization with the
instructor," said Hardy.
"Hardy...she didn't say who
the female was," said Wildstar.
"Did she?"
"No...but
we all know it was..."
"And in the interests of
discipline, let's save the rest of this for the Officer's Club...on Sunday
night, over some beer, okay?" said Nova.
"Right," said Hardy.
"Don't you have to study?"
"Yes...after I eat
something, sir," said Nova with a smile as she set down her tray and began
to nibble at a salad. "Derek...if it's all right, do you think we can meet
at the house site after our classes next Wednesday night?"
"The
house?"
"Yes. I'd like to see how
it's coming, and I'd like you there with me if you can find the time,
Derek."
"Well...next Wednesday's a
short training day for me...what about you?"
"Will be if they don't
screw up and have ta put in extra houhs," chuckled Hardy.
"Sounds like we have
everything set, then," said Wildstar.
"Derek, I have someone from
my squadron I'd like you to meet over lunch one day next week. I think I'd like
to ask her to help us out on the day after Christmas."
"Who?"
"A young lady named
Angelique Burkhardt. She's from my squadron, and I've sort of been helping her
out during training."
"No problem."
"You're helpin'
Angie?" asked Hardy.
"Well...who else would I be
helping...Tatiana?" retorted Nova. "I tried,
after our first test was posted, but you know Tatiana...she knows everything."
"She thinks she does,"
added Hardy by way of clarification, "But, in actuality, she knows
nothing!"
"You told me about
her," said Wildstar. "Didn't she do well in combat?"
"She did, but if she don't
straighten out and fly raight, she's gonna crash and burn in mah class. You got
anyone laike that, Wildstar?"
"Hartcliffe," said
Wildstar as he rolled up his eyes.
"Even ah've heard about
him," said Hardy. "Isn't he datin'...or, rather...tryin'
to...conquah...another student?"
Nova cleared her throat rather
loudly at that one.
"He's datin', then, let's
say" said Hardy, suitably corrected.
"Who?"
"Scuttlebutt has it
Hartcliffe's been seen with someone we was just talkin' about, Wildstah."
"Angie?" said
Wildstar. "That explains it. I just had to yell at Hartcliffe the other
day for something really weird."
"What did you give it to
him for?," asked Hardy.
"Caught him doodling a picture of Angie in his notebook during a class
and showing it off to another trainee."
"So?" said Nova.
"I once noticed YOU doodling a picture of me on
our way home from Iscandar, Derek..."
"It was during a break in
the messhall on scrap paper, Nova...and NOT in a class, during a lecture."
snapped Wildstar, embarrassed. He was blushing at the memory. "Also, I believe
I drew a dress and boots on you."
"It was a minidress,"
said Nova with a smile.
"It was more than this
trainee drew on HIS girlfriend. His artwork was a nude of her."
"Oh?" said Nova with a
raised eyebrow.
"A very raunchy
nude..."
"How raunchy was it?" asked
Hardy with a grin on his face while Nova rolled up her eyes.
"HARDY!" snapped Nova.
"Sir...aren't you supposed to be setting an example?"
"Yes...Right," said
Hardy. "Now..."
"Derek...look
over there," whispered Nova as she pulled at her fiancée's sleeve.
"Two tables over to the left..."
Everyone at the table went
silent as Derek looked over, just in time to see...Bryan Hartcliffe...and
Angelique Burkhardt...holding hands and staring at each other as if they were
in a singles' club.
"Those
two! We...we were
reading their files the other day!" barked Wildstar.
"Wait a minute, weren't
they...the ones...in the broom closet on Titan Base?" asked Hardy.
"Derek, what IS going
on?" squeaked Nova.
"They were once caught
fraternizing, Nova. I don't mind the concept of my trainees dating..."
said Wildstar slowly.
"...But...not here in the
open during training," said Hardy grimly. "Wildstah...if the Old Man
catches them doin' that on duty hours...like durin' dinner..."
"I know," said Derek
grimly.
"We need to talk to
them," said Hardy.
"I can help with
Burkhardt...I think," whispered Nova.
"How?" said Wildstar.
"Easy. Just tell them about
the clubs you and I go to off-base...and advise her to make eyes at him THERE.
And, err...to stay away from broom closets," she said with a blush.
"How'd this happen?"
"Easy," said Hardy.
"Nova, the English boy got your surfer babe friend good and drunk and he
had his way with huh. Ah'll leave out all the gory details, Nova, outta respect
for your ladyship."
"Thanks," grunted
Nova.
"Nova...do you think you
should...?" asked Derek.
"No. It'd only cause a
scene. But...hmmm...if the Scuttlebutt gets around..."
"The Scuttlebutt Express
probably already has them logged and noted, Nova," said Hardy with a shake
of his head that caused his forelock to fly crazily around for a minute.
"And we can't do a thing about THAT."
"Did you have your office
talk with her yet?" asked Nova.
"You know darn well our
class finished that today," said Hardy.
"If I can give you advice,
Hardy...I'd talk with her tomorrow," suggested Nova.
"I will. You'll have the
responsibility for huh, too," said Hardy pointedly.
"Sir?"
"Flight leaders are bein'
posted tomorrow on the basis of grades," said Hardy. "And if you
don't know by now that you'h helpin' me run this show,
Nova, then maybe you ain't as bright as you look."
"But isn't it against regs
for...?" began Nova.
"I didn't come right out
and TELL yew the whole list, did ah?" grinned Hardy. "And, besides, it
was my educated guess from day one you'd be a flight leaduh, Nova. You'h smart. Everyone knows that."
"But you still violated
regs," said Wildstar.
"Regs," said Hardy
with a laugh. "Nova, no offense, ah hope...but
you know what they say about couples."
"What?" asked Nova.
"They say that if they hang
around each other enough...they begin to take on each other's
characteristics," grinned Hardy evilly. "Nova.
I think you're startin' to become like Wildstah in some ways..."
"Now what in blazes do you
mean by that, Hardy?" shot Wildstar.
"...And, I think in some
ways...youah becoming like HER...although not in a bad way, mind yew."
"So…sir?" said Nova in
a flat tone of voice.
"Well...yew two are gonna
be married in about a month...so yew two can go home to the BOQ and figure that
one out for yoahselves. Ah don't mess around with yoah personal lives. See you
in class tomorrow mornin', Miss Forrester. PREFERABLY without
circles under yoah eyes!"
At that, Hardy left, leaving
Derek and Nova to stare at each other, mutter, and shake their heads.
IX. DRAWING THE DUTY
Earth
Federal Megalopolis
Idlewild Space Naval Air
Station
Officers' Club
November 29, 2201
1939 Hours-Eastern Standard
Time
"Lord Almighty, mah ahm..." groaned
"Hey, Hardy, what happened
to it?" demanded his drinking buddy, Ensign Paul Rosstowski. Rosstowski
had, until recently, been an enlisted man on the Argo. He had served
ever since the first mission to Iscandar as a member of the Combat Group.
Later, he had received a battlefield promotion to Ensign during the Comet
Empire crisis after Dash's second-in-command of the Artillery Section had been
killed by an explosion fighting fires on the Argo after she had been
rammed by a cruiser during Saturn-Titan. As Rosstowski had been the ship's
Chief Master-at-Arms, he had been the ideal candidate to fill that hold in the
Combat Group's command structure. So, the young, hard-working, long-time
enlisted man was now sitting in the Officers' Club for the first time, having
been dragged here by his old comrade Dash.
"Nothing...just
bumped mah funny bone in the booth."
"Looking at that blonde at
ten o'clock? " grinned Rosstowski.
"Not at
all, son."
"You must still be injured,
sir," said Rosstowski, while tipping back a beer. His dark eyes glowered
over the bottle for a moment at his old shipmate.
"Hey, what'cha mean,
INJURED?" said Hardy.
Dash added, "The blonde at
eight o' clock's got a shorter skirt on, THAT'S all!" he said with a
laugh.
"That's better," said
Paul in his Mid-Atlantic accent, which contrasted sharply with Hardy's
"Should you tell him, or
me?" said Dash.
"Me. Son, you're breakin'
protocol," said Hardy.
"What'cha mean?"
"It's against regs for you,
boy, to call me SIR when we're drinking beer in the O Club. Got it?"
"Uhh--uhh..."
"Relax," said Dash.
"We're all here to have some drinks and enjoy ourselves...that's
all..."
"Okay," said
Rosstowski, turning to greet someone else as they appeared in the booth.
"Hey, whoa!" he said in his flat, prosaic manner. "It's
Eager!"
Lieutenant Eager rolled up his
eyes as he sat down.
"How come ya ain't in
uniform, laike us?" asked Hardy inquisitively as he pointed out his
Standard Duty Blues and Rosstowski's, although Hardy was wearing a black flight
jacket over his blues.
"Wasn't on duty like you
guys," said Eager.
"We weren't really on
regular duty today, either," said Rosstowski. " He
was out in a Tiger racking up some more hours, and I met him at the base after
I put in a few hours flying a Medevac Boat around; that's all."
"Ah knew you could fly a
boat, Rosstowski," said Eager. "But when'ja learn?"
"Well, remember how they
needed utility boat pilots on the way to Iscandar after we suffered all those
losses?" asked Rosstowski. "It was at that time that Hardy taught me
how to fly a shuttlecraft, and later, I learned how to fly maintenance boats
and Medevac Boats," said Rosstowski.
"What's this thing you
fighter jocks got about "rackin' up hours?"," asked Eager.
"You idiot," grinned
Rosstowski. "I'm not a fighter pilot. I'm a boat pilot, and that's icing
on the cake to my job as a gunner," said the dark-haired young man
earnestly. "You'd never get me in a fighter plane in a million smeggin'
years."
"Why not, boy, yuh maight
laike it," said Hardy.
"No...armor,"
said Rosstowski with emphasis. "I don't like flying around and engaging
the enemy in a ship without armor. Haven't I told you that before?"
"Ah think you'h a
party-pooper, son," said Hardy. "Too bad yuh never took me up on
flying a Black Taiger foah keeps. You would've liked it!"
"Sir, as I told you years
ago, I'll tell you now...NO WAY!" said Rosstowski earnestly.
"Well, fighter pilot or
not," said Eager, "What's this here thing you guys got with rackin'
up hours?"
"Let him explain it,"
said Dash as Eager looked at him. "Hardy's the fighter jock here."
"Eager, you must've
deep-fried your brain after all those hours YUH spent behind that tactical
radar on the Argo," said Hardy in amazement. "The reason
pilots need to "rack up hours" is to keep up their edge and
proficiency. Don't you know that, boy?"
"Ah mean...you guys make
such a THING outta this. It's a religion to yew!" said Eager.
"Aren't you an Assistant
Ship's Pilot, son?" asked Hardy. "You must've had to rack up hours
flying the Argo."
"Mostly when you guys were
sleepin'," joked Eager.
"Oh...THAT'S why I felt my
bunk shaking on the way to Iscandar," said Rosstowski. "Not because
YOU, Hardy, were hiding something in your compartment."
"If I was, you wouldn't
have known 'bout it," said Hardy. "What'cha doin in civvies,
seriously?" asked Hardy while glancing at Eager. "When did they let
you out of the hospital?"
"The twenty-fifth," he
said. "They were afraid that I had some internal damage they couldn't spot
on a scan from one of the falls I took...so they wanted to be sure before they
let me out again. Right now, I'm on TDY at Halesite Missile Battery," he
said, referring to an outlying ground-to-air missile station on
"So you're out looking for
some action," said Hardy with a leer and a wink.
"Not that kind. Got a girlfriend back home in the
"What?" said Hardy. "Yew've got a
girlfriend?"
"Darn straight," said
Eager, ignoring Rosstowski's suddenly glum expression for the moment.
"Really?" said Hardy.
"What's her name?"
"Lisa," said Eager. "Got a picture of her in my wallet. Have a look,"
he said, pulling out and tossing a small photo towards Hardy and Rosstowski.
"Well, least she's
blonde," said Hardy. "Ah see she's got blue eyes. What's
she look like...y'know…below the neck?"
"Tacky, tacky, tacky,"
chuckled Dash.
"No, I'm a Southern
gentleman," said Hardy. "You're tacky."
"C'mon, guys, let Eager
have the floor," said Rosstowski.
"Thanks, Paul. Well, she's
short, cute, likes gingham dresses. Met her when I was a kid in
"Still seeing the girl back
home.." said Rosstowski. "WOW," he
snorted sarcastically.
"What's goin' on?"
said Eager, surprised that Hardy was silent. "I mean, what's your problem,
Paul? You MARRIED the girl back home! I still have to get Lisa her ring.
What's..."
Rosstowski said slowly, and with
emphasis, as a contemporary version of an old song called Seasons in the Sun
came up on the jukebox. "The PROBLEM, Eager, is that for me, Clarissa
Rosstowski is no LONGER the girl back home! Don't you know that? Didn't I tell
you that on the mission, you chowderhead? We were having problems, she was
talking divorce at the beginning of the year, and she went and FILED it in late
January. She threw me out right before I was to leave to join the patrol
cruiser Kikori in February. Threw me right out in the middle of the
smeggin' night, too."
"Really?" asked Eager.
"Really," snapped
Paul. "It was at 0110 in the morning on January 19, 2201, if you're
wondering. I tried to go by your place, but you weren't there," he said,
looking at Hardy, "and Dash wasn't around either, and Kato's wife told me
he was off on the other side of the world training then. I asked her what I was
gonna do, and, God bless her, she got on the phone to
Nova Forrester. Then, I ended up spending the night in Nova's living room being
counseled over hot cocoa until she pulled a few strings in the morning to get
me assigned to new quarters the next day."
"Shoot, I never knew
that!" said Eager. "Sorry to hear that, Rosstowski."
"That's all right. I
haven't wanted to confide in a lot of people about this. You can see why,"
said Rosstowski as he put his head down, staring at the table. The fall of the
shadows in the dim Officer's Club against his features and the new white junior
officers' collar of his uniform made him look just as moody and melancholy as
he actually was.
"You said the divorce went
through fast," said Eager. "When did ya get the papers?"
"They handed them to 'im
the morning after he moved into his new quarters," said Hardy. "It
seems that his wife Clarissa found out where he was in one hell of a hurry. The
scum lawyers gave him a WEEK to get a JAG officer and prepare his defense. The
trial, if ya wanna call it that, was six days after that. His lawyer said his
piece, she said hers. She refused to let him talk to her or her daughter. He just
hadda talk to the lawyers. The case was cut and dried. They told him he'd
receive their decision within five days."
"What kinda grounds did she
sue on to get that kind of a hearing?" asked Eager.
"Actual abandonment and
estrangement of affections," snapped Rosstowski. "Her lawyer made a
case that my deciding to accept assignment to a space cruiser equaled an act of
abandonment. We tried to argue otherwise, but they bought the
"estrangement of affections angle"-not knowing that she was the one
who was refusing to act as my wife any longer. That's what happened, and that's
why my money's short, since that's where my credits are going."
"Well, you've got a
daughter, and you've got a responsibility to her, son," said Hardy.
"That's not what's killing
me. What IS killing me is the maintenance that Clarissa's getting. It's a tidy
sum," said Rosstowski, tracing a pattern glumly in a puddle of beer.
"I'm not sure she deserves it either, particularly because she's already
remarried to someone else who's doing well in the money department."
"Who?" asked Eager.
"Some architect guy she
dumped me for, as it turned out. His name's Dwayne. She's already bragging that
he makes more than I do, and that she'll be really rich...particularly because
she'll see to it she gets her kilo of flesh from me in the bargain irregardless
of what I make."
"Shoot," said Hardy
softly.
"Need me to loan ya more
money to buy beer?" asked Eager.
"What I need is for you to
get outta my face for a minute, Eager. GOT it?" snarled Rosstowski as he
stood up.
"Hey...ah didn't
mean..."
"Eager, just forget
it," said Rosstowski harshly. "I'll be back by my beer in a few
minutes. You don't need to buy me any."
"I didn't
mean nothin'"
said Eager.
"Hey, cool it," said
Dash.
At that, Paul stalked off.
"Ah think ah got him
mad," said Eager.
"Course ya did, space
genius," said Hardy irritably. "Ain't ya ever gonna learn to keep
your jaw zipped, son?"
"I didn't mean any harm...I
was just..."
"You were just being
yourself; dizzy," said Dash.
Hardy took a deep breath.
"But it hurt anyway. Boy's got a tender hide right now; he goes out to
help us, and keeps on getting kicked in the teeth when he comes back. Any
wonder that he ain't bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?"
Rosstowski glumly wandered
around the O-Club, A few minutes later, he encountered Wildstar and Nova.
Wildstar was in his uniform and peacoat and Nova was in a pink pantsuit and
pink boots for a night out. They were playing a game of Ping-Pong and having a
lot of fun. Watching them in their happy mood only made him feel worse, and he
decided to go home, without even saying goodbye to Eager, Dash. and Hardy. He was almost out of the Officers' Club, but, he
changed his mind when he overheard yelling inside.
When he came back, Rosstowski
noticed that Wildstar was having a heated argument with a somewhat
sneery-looking young man in civvies; namely blue jeans, a Western-type shirt,
and a black suede Stetson. Rosstowski thought the stranger looked and sounded
like the typical heavy from an old Western-type holo-show.
"What was that you
said?" Rosstowski heard Wildstar demanding.
"What ah said," said
the young man in civvies, wasn't even directed at you, you idiot!"
"No, it was directed at my
fiancé!" barked Wildstar.
"Oh, she's yours?"
sneered the young man.
"That's right, I am,"
said Nova in a level voice as Rosstowski ran over to join a circle of people
who were watching the mood turn ugly.
"Girl, you sure got one
hell of a mouth on you!" sneered the stranger.
"Because I just asked you
to get out of my way when you kept bumping into me?" asked Nova.
"You're drunk!" she said, noticing his slurred belligerence.
"And don't I know you from somewhere?" she asked.
"Yeah. I know both you and your boyfriend. Why
doesn't he have ya on a smeggin' leash? Woof, WOOF! you're
a bow-wow!," he sneered. "A real dog, get it? Like all pushy
womenfolk!"
"Do you know who you're
talking to?" demanded Wildstar.
"Oh, yeah, I sure know you,
you jerk," slurred the young man. "Even though ya
evidently don't recognize me. Even though ya SHOULD!" laughed the
somewhat stocky young fool, who, as Wildstar noticed, looked like he hadn't had
a shave this morning.
"Who IS that?"
whispered Rosstowski as Hardy elbowed his way up to him with a concerned look
on his face.
"Him?" asked Hardy.
"That boy's name is Randy Parmon. He's a brilliant engineer, but he's
supposed to be trouble."
"Trouble?"
"He's never been charged
with anything, but scuttlebutt says he has a bad rep with other officers;
especially females. Good record, though, and he's supposed to be some kinda
hero. Word is that he helped an officer named Captain Josiah drag a damaged
patrol cruiser that had been spit out the White Comet back to Earth. Got a medal for it, too, just yesterday. He's supposed to be
goin' places in the Fleet...the SOB."
Hardy heard Wildstar talking
louder, and he heard Parmon shouting more insolent comments back at the hero of
the Cometine conflict. Rosstowski began to think they might have to step in and
help the shore patrol, especially when he saw Parmon actually beginning to take
a lunge towards Wildstar, who was obviously expecting something (the young
skipper, as usual, had his teeth gritted and was ready to rumble). Before any
swings were exchanged, Nova stepped in and snapped, "That's ENOUGH! Derek,
you're brave, but I don't want you and him going at it on MY account! And,
Mister Parmon, be advised I can take care of myself!"
"Oh? You finally recognized
me?"
"Yes, I did! Who else
would've had the nerve to insult Derek and I the night
we came home from Iscandar?"
"Ah didn’t insult you,
Forrester!"
"Most people would think
that your calling me a ‘brainless blonde bimbo’
was an insult. Did you ever realize what kind of nerve it took to say that at that
party? And do you have any idea what sort of nerve you have NOW?"
"Whatcha mean, babe?"
he sneered. "I was just out shelabratin!"
Nova replied in a low voice,
with emphasis, "If you EVER put one of those greasy paws of yours on me
again, I might just perform a medical procedure on you without any
anesthetic."
"Whatcha mean?" he
half-sneered, half-asked, surprised that Nova had the chutzpah to stand up for
herself.
"I won't tell you,"
replied Nova quietly. "But let's just say it would probably interfere with
your ability to procreate, okay? Derek, let's get out of here and leave the
kennel to Muttley? He's dead drunk, so let the shore patrol take care of him,
okay? C'mon..." she said as she dragged him off by the hand...before
anything else could happen.
******
In their aircar, while pulling
out, Derek said, "Nova, even though you stopped me from giving that jerk a piece of my mind, I'm proud of you. Thanks for having
a clear head back there. I'm pleasantly surprised about how you can tell them
off yourself, Nova," he said with a smile as they drove on.
"Why?,"
she asked. "I've done that sort of thing before. Sergeant Knox gave me a
lot of practice, and I also had to deal with others like him and Parmon while
you were with the Third Squadron earlier this year."
"Nova?"
"Yes?"
"Would YOU ever interfere
with my ability to procreate?"
"Heck,
no. I WANT you in
working order. You know I want children someday," she replied with a wink.
"That's sweet of you,"
he replied as he put a hand on Nova's shoulder. He stopped at a light, and he
noticed that there were no cars around, so playfully began to stroke her
collarbone, and he slowly let his hand go down a little lower.
Nova rolled up her eyes a little
and responded by playfully giving him a love tap.
"Hey!" he cried as the
light turned green. "I thought you said..."
"Not HERE!" Nova
giggled. "The light's green, and it's not the right place, or the right
time. Drive on, please!"
Derek did so, looking noticeably
downcast. Nova noticed, and gave him a little pat on the cheek at the next red
light. as she snapped on the car radio as Derek tries to soothe his bruised
ego...and a Christmas tune came on; a contemporary version of Silver Bells.
At the line, "...soon it
will be Christmas day," Nova turned visibly dreamy and romantic,
murmuring the line again in Derek's ear while leaning against him, to his
surprise.
"Nova...I thought you
said..."
"Derek...you know I love
you...but you know I don't like the idea of...messing around in a
car...or...you know...of acting married before we ARE
married. But..."
"I know, Nova," sighed Derek. "I'm sorry. But you know the wait is
killing me..."
"Don't you think it's not
killing me, either?" whispered Nova. "There's been
times that I've wanted you so badly I can taste it...especially in the
last few weeks...and sometimes in the worst places. But, at least..."
"Christmas will come
soon," said Wildstar. "And...on the day
after...I get YOU."
"And I can't wait,"
said Nova softly. At that, she kissed him. He returned the smooch and then they
drove off, heading towards the BOQ complex.
X. COMETINE INTENTIONS
Garalenda System
The Edge of the Milky Way
November 29, 2201
2000 Hours-Eastern Standard
Time
The base planet of Garalenda loomed
up in the bridge windows of Desslok's carrier as it began its final approach
towards the planet. After the Gamilon Fleet had launched its planes three days
beforehand, there had been all of two engagements. After the first engagement,
in which several of the Cometines had been surprised by Gamilon planes plunging
down on top of them from an unexpected direction, thanks to the SMITE equipment
recently installed in one of the Fleet's battlecarriers, the enemy planes had,
rather unexpectedly, broken off the engagement. The second engagement, as
Desslok had remembered, had been with not only a few planes but also with a
single Cometine destroyer, also in the same two-tone grey colors as the planes.
The escort destroyer had been wiped out, but Desslok was aware of the fact that
his forces had retrieved some debris that would be analyzed at the base.
Now, as the rest of the Fleet
began to head down towards the base, Desslok stood in silence, wondering what
would happen next.
"Talan?" asked
Desslok.
"Yessir?"
"Our
enemies. Are they
affiliated or allied with Zordar's House? Are they attacking us out of sheer
revenge and malice, or do they have another plan in mind? What do you
think?"
"Well, their attacks seem
to be almost random, Leader Desslok," said Talan. "They come almost
from out of nowhere, and then they strike, cause some damage, and break off the
attack, or allow themselves to be destroyed."
"They...allow themselves to
be destroyed?" asked Desslok.
"Yes. General Krannen
observed that yesterday, during the second attack. He said that two of the
planes that we hit weren't fatally damaged. One of them deliberately rammed a
destroyer."
"Deliberately?" asked
Desslok.
"Yes. It flew right at the
ship's bridge."
"Behavior of that type is
consistent with only one thing. Fanaticism...or desperation," said
Desslok. "You'll recall that, occasionally, members of our forces have
allowed themselves to be killed deliberately as a means of expiating the debt
of loyalty they owe me. They'll literally fight to their last breaths for my
sake. We've seen loyalty of that type in our forces, and among the Terrans, but
it is most unusual in Cometines. Except, that is, for one House of the Empire
that Zordar spoke of, although it is not quite a legitimate House recognized by
the High Emperor in the
"Who is this House?"
asked Talan. "Could it be...?"
"Again, we must not jump to
conclusions," said Desslok. "We must ascertain their identity first.
If they are whom I suspect them to be, we must ascertain their intentions, and
act. If this is the House that I believe it is, if it is now a House, we must
rebuild and act as quickly as possible. Otherwise, much that we hold dear could
be endangered, especially if these are, indeed, the followers of the madman known as Gernitz. Gernitz, Talan. The man whom
Zordar cast out when we arrived because it was said he would stop at nothing to
gain the secrets of Earth...including capturing
me while I was recovering."
"It was because they
learned you knew its location," mused Talan.
"Hence, he felt you could lead them to its secrets... But, what were the
secrets he desired?"
"The same secret that
interested Zordar in a tangential sense," said Desslok. "Gernitz
wished to gain the knowledge of how Earth rebuilt its ecosystem over one
year...that is, the Cosmo-DNA, even though they never knew it as such,"
said Desslok. "Gernitz desired to gain this secret...and learn of the
planet of its origin, for his own warped ends."
"Perverting Iscandar's
Terraforming science into a weapon?" asked Talan.
"Yes...the same. It was
said that his intent was to find the homeworld of the race that designed this
technology and force them to give up all of the engineering secrets...and then
to destroy that world so that no one save Gernitz would have the secrets of the
device's design."
"How many forces did
Gernitz have?"
"It is said that he had
gained control of a Space Fortress Group that Zordar had in reserve," said
Desslok. "As you know, within the Gatlantis Empire-city ship, there was a
huge space battleship. Zordar had a similar battleship in reserve, which
Gernitz gained by stealth at the time Zordar cast him out. It was then thought
that Gernitz formed his own rebel House which would have eventually acted
against Zordar, although Zordar didn't think much of the potential
threat. At any rate, Gernitz will never learn either the locations of
Earth...or Iscandar...from us," said Desslok grimly. "If Gernitz the
Mad IS our current enemy, it would explain much...."
END OF ACT
THREE.
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