Wing Commander Pilgrim Stars Epilogue

Epilogue
Book	Wing Commander Pilgrim Stars
Parts	2
Previous	Chapter 23
Next	Back Matter
Pages	297-301

Dramatis Personae

	Part 1	Part 2	Part 3
POV	Christopher "Pilgrim" Blair	Christopher "Pilgrim" Blair	Amity Aristee
Speaking	Sandra Gregarov Todd "Maniac" Marshall Geoffrey Tolwyn	Jeanette "Angel" Deveraux Todd "Maniac" Marshall
Mentioned	Paul Gerald Richard Bellegarde James "Paladin" Taggart	Karista Mullens James "Paladin" Taggart Tibby Elise "Zarya" Rolitov	James "Paladin" Taggart Vyson

Text

SOL SECTOR, TERRA QUADRANT

PLANET EARTH

CS CONCORDIA

2654.130

0800 HOURS CONFEDERATION STANDARD TIME

Part One

Blair and Maniac stood at parade rest in the Concordia's wardroom. They had been debriefed by Captain Gerald back on the Tiger Claw, had submitted their After Action Reports to Admiral Tolwyn only a few hours prior, and had just completed a verbal defense of those reports to the admiral, to Commodore Bellegarde, and to Space Marshal Gregarov. The questions had been probing, and many had concerned Paladin. Blair had repeatedly felt the need to qualify his answers, but Bellegarde or Gregarov would lean forward in their chairs and cut him off before he could fully explain. It seemed that at least two of his inquisitors had already condemned the commodore. As had Maniac.

     Blair had insisted that his wingman remain as unbiased as possible and only report the facts--which Maniac had done until the concluding paragraph of his report, wherein he offered his own scathing critique of Paladin's actions. Worse still, Maniac had refused to show Blair the report before submitting it, and only during the meeting had Blair learned of the incendiary notes. Blair decided that once they were outside in the corridor, he would throttle Maniac to within a heartbeat of his life, then tear him that new breathing hole he had promised while back on the Olympus.

     "Well, then, lieutenants. Do you have anything to add?" Tolwyn's gray eyes wore a noticeable sheen, and while the admiral had carefully guarded his tone during most of the meeting, his words now rang sullenly.

     "No, sir," Maniac replied.

     Blair cleared his throat. "Sir, since you have accepted Lieutenant Marshall's report, which contains his opinion of Commodore Taggart's character, I respectfully request a moment to offer my own observations."

     "We're concerned with the facts, Mr. Blair. Nothing more."

     "I know that, sir. And I understand that you might consider my opinion biased because I'm half Pilgrim, but I deserve an opportunity to speak."

     Gregarov raised a hand at Tolwyn. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

     "I haven't known the commodore for very long, but I've never met a man more loyal or one with a clearer sense of mission. Whatever happened out there, I'm certain that it's in the best interests of the Confederation. You can't ignore the commodore's reputation for reliability--and loyalty. Don't condemn him before you really know what happened. That's all."

     The admiral fixed Blair with a hard gaze. "Lieutenant, according to your own report, Commodore Taggart was the only one who could've programmed that hopper drive. He had locked everyone else out of the system. His orders were to seize control of that vessel and return it to the Confederation. By feeding in those jump coordinates, the commodore committed an act of treason--one for which he will be executed."

     "Sir, you don't know if that was an act of treason."

     "He had the opportunity to deliver the ship to us," Gregarov said with a raised finger. "He could have shut down the drive. He did not. We have no choice but to regard him as a traitor and fugitive."

     "But you don't know the whole story."

     Tolwyn stood. "Thank you for those thoughts, Mr. Blair. We'll need to meet with you again in the next few days. You'll be taken off your roster until our inquiry is complete. Dismissed."

Part Two

Blair waited until he and Maniac were about twenty meters from the wardroom hatch, then he whirled, took Maniac's neck in his grip, dug a thumb into the bandage covering Maniac's flesh wound, then drove the skinny jock into the bulkhead. "Do you know what you just did?"

     "Let ... go!" Even with both hands locked around Blair's wrist, Maniac could not break free

     "When they find him, they're going to execute him."

     "Good," Maniac wheezed.

     Tearing his hand away, Blair swore then pounded down the corridor.

     "Hey, Chris? He chose the Pilgrims. Deal with it."

     "We don't know that."

     "You mean you don't have any doubts? Come on ..."

     Blair rounded a corner--and nearly ran into Angel. "I got tired of waiting around that hatch, so I went and got something to eat," she explained.

     "It's your time. You didn't have to come." He leaned on the bulkhead and lowered his head. "They've made up their minds."

     "They're doing what they have to do, but I know. I know." She reached to touch his chin but suddenly withdrew. "We should get back, otherwise you'll miss saying goodbye to Karista."

     "Nothing happened between us."

     "Why do you keep saying that?"

     "I just want you to know."

     "It's all right. I didn't want you to wait for me."

     "But I did."

     She shifted away and tossed her hair back. "They're going to interrogate Karista like you wouldn't believe. Then they'll ship her off to an interment camp. You okay with that?"

     "We're talking about us."

     "You two are paired."

     "Whoa," he said, recoiling, then backhanding sweat from his brow. "You two comparing notes or what?"

     "I could sense there was a connection between you two, so I asked her. She didn't want to tell me, but she did."

     "It doesn't matter."

     "Yes, it does."

     Blair closed his eyes and touched Angel's cheek with his thoughts. He moved down to her neck, feeling her bow into his touch. Then in one eager motion, he took her into his arms and kissed her deeply, fully, gently. He finally pulled back, let their lips linger a moment, then opened his eyes. "You don't know me. Not really. Give me a chance to show you."

     When he opened his eyes he found her pale and astonished. "How did you--"

     "The spaces between us mean nothing," he said, closing her lips with a finger. "We're fighters. Let's fight for this."

     "Oh, God," Maniac said, suddenly behind them. "Why don't you two get a room?"

     Angel glared. "How long have you been standing there, Lieutenant?"

     He tapped his chest: Me? "Enough lollygagging. I gotta get back to see Tibby in the quartermaster's office. He's picked up a little something for Zarya that might cheer her up. She's still bummed out. It's not like no one's ever lost a fighter before. So she lost one on her first tour. So what. She's alive, right?"

     "She got lucky over Triune. But her luck won't hold. It never does," Angel said. "She'll be off the duty roster for another week. And she won't be back in a Rapier until she proves herself on the simulator."

     "With me as her instructor? No problemo."

     Blair snickered. "I got a feeling your lessons won't involve flying."

     Maniac winked. "She's a quick study. Just like you."

Part Three

Amity Aristee forced herself up, out of her command chair. "Brotur Vyson?"

     He read her expression. "Aye, Captain. I have the con." She left the Olympus's bridge with a deep sense of dread that slowed her pace. She barely acknowledged others in the lift and corridors as she steered herself toward her quarters. There, she regarded the hatch control as though it were a warning sign and lazily keyed in the code. The door hissed aside, and she felt her way through the shadows toward a flickering light that outlined her bedroom hatch. She took a deep breath, braced herself, then pushed in the door.

     James Taggart sat up in her bed and leaned back on an ornate trioak headboard. Were it not for his scowl, he would appear almost angelic, framed by the leafy designs carved into the rare wood. A lone blue candle as thick as his wrist sat on an equally ornate nightstand, and in that poor light he had been reading hard copies of ancient star charts which now littered the deck and sheets. He acknowledged her presence with a meager glance.

     "James, you've been in this bed for two days. You have to get up. You have to eat something."

     "No."

     "You're brooding like a child. You made your choice. You chose blood. Just like your father did. Now it's time to move on." She stepped toward the bed, then toed off her sandals.

     "Move on? To what? We've lost nearly half the crew and we're operating on one ion engine. It's only a matter time before we make a wrong jump."

     "If you're so certain that we're going to get caught, then why did you change your mind?"

     He just looked at her, as though he didn't know himself.

     She shook her head, undid her sash, and let her robe slink to the floor. She slid naked into bed and rested her head on his chest. "We can't get caught," she whispered, tracing his navel with a pearly fingernail. "And we can't die ... because there's too much war left to fight."