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 ho