Wing Commander in Real Time - Day 1 - 2100 Zulu

Script

9D INT. CONCORDIA - BRIDGE

CLOSE ON a video monitor. On it, we see a playback of

Wilson on the Pegasus station. Image shakes as he speaks:

WILSON

This is Admiral Bill Wilson, Pegasus

station commanding officer. Forty

Kilrathi capital ships are closing.

Station has been breached. They want

the NAVCOM. Repeat, they want--

Concussion and Wilson spins, puts his back to the

monitor....transmission ends in fuzz.

CAMERA PULLS BACK to reveal Admiral TOLWYN standing on

the pristine bridge of the massive battle ship, COMMODORE

RICHARD BELLEGARDE behind him.

SUPERIMPOSE: CONCORDIA BATTLE GROUP, MARCH 15TH, 2100

ZULU TIME. 42 HOURS FROM EARTH

BELLEGARDE

The Pegasus NAVCOM? My God, if they

have it--

TOLWYN turns towards an open area.

TOLWYN

Tactical. Give me the Vega and Sol

sectors.

A holographic projection of Vega and Sol sectors

materializes in front of him. Pegasus, a small blue dot

is near the center. Around it are dozens of star systems

peppered with red and blue dots, indicating the position

of the CONFED and Kilrathi fleets.

Behind Pegasus, we see the Ulysses Corridor funneling

towards the massive Charybdis Quasar.

A hundred yellow lines--avenues through space-time--

emanates from it, lead into Sol sector. One, thicker than

the rest, leads directly to a solar system with nine

planets.

TOLWYN walks inside the hologram. As he nears the solar

system, a single blue planet, Earth, enlarges, floats

there, spinning slowly.

TOLWYN

What is the fleet's position?

BELLEGARDE

We're spread all over the sector. The

earliest our advance elements could

reach Sol is forty-two hours. And that

is piecemeal and taking risks with the

jumps, sir.

TOLWYN

And with the NAVCOM they can reach

Earth in under forty through the

Charybdis Quasar...

(ironic smile)

A mere two hours could decide the

outcome of this war.

(pauses, decides)

Signal all ships to mark our course and

make full speed for Earth....I need to

know what the Kilrathi are up to,

Richard. I need eyes and ears, and I

need intelligence. Do we have any

ships left in Vega?

BELLEGARDE checks the situational display on his monitor:

BELLEGARDE

Just one, sir. The Tiger Claw. But

she is out of communications range, and

a drone will take two days to reach her.

TOLWYN checks the display, motions to a small red dot in

Sol Sector.

TOLWYN

Who's this?

BELLEGARDE bangs on the keyboard, readers:

BELLEGARDE

A requisitioned merchantman, sir. The

Diligent.

TOLWYN

The Diligent?

BELLEGARDE

It's captained by James Taggart.

TOLWYN

(thinks)

Taggart.

BELLEGARDE

Enroute to the Tiger Claw with two

replacement pilots. Lieutenants Todd

Marshall and Christopher Blair.

TOLWYN

Open a secure channel to the Diligent

immediately. I need to speak to her

Captain --

BELLEGARDE

Right away, sir.

TOLWYN

(peering at readout)

and this 1st Lieutenant Blair.

Novelization

CHAPTER 1

CONCORDIA BATTLE GROUP

MARCH 15, 2654 2100 HOURS ZULU TIME

42 HOURS FROM EARTH

In classic battle group formation, the Confederation-class carrier

Concordia, flagship of the 14th Fleet, glided majestically amid five

cruisers, five destroyers—including the formidable TCS Beowulf-—and ten

support ships. The pride of the Confederation Navy, the Concordia

stretched into space nearly 984 meters and weighed in at an imposing

73,000 tonnes. She doubled as a dreadnought so she could stand up to

Kilrathi cruisers and destroyers in a one-on-one fight. Three heavy flak

cannons discouraged light fighters from becoming intimate, and eight

anti-matter guns warded off attacking Kilrathi corvettes, heavy fighters,

and bombers. Fore and aft phase shields guarded her from an assortment

of Kilrathi weapons, as did her 500-centimeter-thick armor. She carried

120 fighters piloted by the most respected and experienced officers in the

fleet.

Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn suspected that every time the Concordia

appeared before the Kilrathi, she turned their alien blood cold.

As she should.

Twelve fighters presently on security patrol veered off to allow a

changing of the guard. Tolwyn shifted away from the external monitor and

scratched at a graying sideburn, then at his neck. He loved the smell of his

new cologne, a thank-you gift from his nephew Kevin, but the damned

stuff had the strange effect of making him itch only when he wore his

uniform, as though chemicals in the cologne reacted with the fabric. This

effect had, of course, not been mentioned on the cologne's label, nor had

Tolwyn remembered the last time he had served as a human catalyst for

an unlikely chemical reaction. He tugged at his collar, swore, then stepped

across the carrier's wide, pristine bridge to lock gazes with Commodore

Richard Bellegarde, who had just exited the lift. Stocky, with neatly

trimmed dark hair, Bellegarde had thus far been an excellent officer but a

poor liar. He assumed that no one knew of his alcoholism nor his frequent

extramarital affairs, both born of a midlife crisis that threatened to ruin

him. Tolwyn hated to see a man slowly destroying his life, but he would

keep on his side of the line. At least for now.

"Did we get it, Commodore?" Tolwyn asked.

Bellegarde nodded vigorously. "It's just been decoded." He hurried

toward a video monitor at the commander's station. Tolwyn fell in behind

him.

The screen lighted with a shaky image of Admiral Bill Wilson, whose

eyes pleaded as he spoke. "The NAVCOM command codes were somehow

overwritten. We can't shut it down, can't destroy it. Station self-destruct

programs have been locked, passwords changed. Jesus, I'm sorry, Geoff.

I'm so damned sorry." Laser fire pierced the air around Wilson. Small

explosions lit the shadowy Command and Control room behind him. Then

static whisked away his face.

Tolwyn repressed the urge to pound his fist on the commander's chair,

having learned long ago to govern his emotions, use them as a tool, and

never let them overwhelm him. He stood there, focusing on his breathing,

clearing his thoughts, then guiding them toward an appropriate response.

Contrarily, Bellegarde paced the bridge, muttering to himself, rubbing

his jaw. Were his thoughts visible, they would be wildly orbiting his head.

He whipped around and faced Tolwyn with a madman's glare, releasing a

short, bitter laugh. "I've been considering ways Wilson could've protected

it from them. But he… think about it… the Pegasus NAVCOM. My God, if

they have it—"

"Calm down, Richard. Let's assume they have it," Tolwyn said, his voice

a placid lake. "Now, what shall we do about that? Speak to me,

Commodore."

Bellegarde snorted. "Go after them."

"Exactly. And I'm sure the Kilrathi counted on that." Tolwyn turned

toward the open expanse of bridge between the commander's station and

the lift. "Tactical. Give me the Vega and Sol sectors."

A swirling holographic projection took shape as overhead lights

dimmed. Dozens of star systems appeared in each of the selected sectors,

their tiny planets rotating in real time about their suns. Glowing blue orbs

indicated the positions of Confederation capital ships. Red orbs

representing Kilrathi cruisers, dreadnoughts, and destroyers dotted the

display like blood. The Pegasus Station's last known location stood as a

small blue dot at the core of the celestial maelstrom. Behind it, thin white

lines formed a tube depicting the Ulysses Corridor. The tube funneled

toward a small but comprehensive model of the Charybdis Quasar.

Hundreds of yellow lines emanated from the quasar's back, each

representing an avenue through space-time. One yellow line, much thicker

than the others, led directly to the Sol system, to Earth.

Tolwyn walked into the projection, intent on the images surrounding

him. As he neared the Sol system, the holograph zoomed in on Earth,

illustrating the precious planet in sharp detail. A hurricane swirled off

Florida's east coast. Clouds blanketed California. Lightning backlit the

thunderheads. Tolwyn glanced sidelong at Bellegarde. "What is the fleet's

position?"

The commodore stepped closer to the holograph and gestured toward

the blue dots. "We're spread all over the sector." He rushed to the

commander's station and tapped in coordinates on a touchpad. Then he

looked up and shook his head. "The earliest our advance elements could

reach Sol is forty-two hours. And that's piecemeal and taking risks with

the jumps, sir. If we do make it within that time frame, we'll be breaking

every Confederation jump record."

"And with the NAVCOM, the Kilrathi can reach Earth in forty hours

through the Charybdis Quasar." The irony tasted so bitter in Tolwyn's

mouth that it made him cringe. "A mere two hours could decide the

outcome of this war."

"That's not true, sir."

Tolwyn furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Even if Earth falls, we still have the fleet and support from the rest of

the Confederation."

Stepping to the edge of the projection, Tolwyn locked gazes with the

commodore. "What is it you fight for, Richard, if not Earth?"

"Permission to—"

"Granted."

"I'm sorry, sir, but Earth's not my homeworld. I'm aware of its strategic

importance, but I don't place as much emphasis on it as those like you

with family connections in government and industry."

"But it's the world of your forefathers. Think of Scotland, of Glasgow.

That accent still lingers in your speech. You cannot deny your heritage."

"Sometimes I wish I could."

Tolwyn looked away, glaring into nothingness. Then he abruptly faced

Bellegarde with renewed steel, his tone a direct challenge. "Signal all ships

to mark our course and make full speed for Earth."

"All ships to mark course and make full speed for Earth. Aye-aye, sir,"

the commodore said tersely. He spun on his heel toward the situational

display on his monitor.

"Richard. I suggest we lay our political differences aside for now. I

suspect we'll return to this conversation later."

Bellegarde kept his back to Tolwyn. "Yes, sir."

Tolwyn stared at the holograph once more, his gaze directed to the

Vega sector and traveling past McAuliffe to Trimble to Baird's Star. "Now.

I need to know what the Kilrathi are up to. I need eyes and ears, and I

need intelligence. Do we have any ships left in Vega?"

"Checking." The commodore's fingers worked quickly on his touchpad.

As Tolwyn waited, he realized that with the luck they had been having,

the answer would surely be no. In that event, he needed to devise an

alternate plan, one that would somehow get Warning and Control mission

fighters in close enough to run intelligence on that Kilrathi fleet—but

fighters deployed from where?

"We have seven capital ships in that sector, sir," Bellegarde finally

answered. "The closest one to the Pegasus Station's last known

coordinates is the Tiger Claw. But she's in the Enyo system and out of

communication range. A drone will take two standard days to reach her."

Tolwyn moved toward a blue orb that quickly materialized into an

image of the Bengal-class carrier Tiger Claw, 700 hundred meters of

Confederation fury. Dammit. If they could only alert her. He winced once

more over the taste in his mouth.

Then he accidentally spotted a tiny dot on the projection. Granted,

whatever ship it represented lay in the Sol sector, but judging distances

and factoring in a jump point, it might be within communication range

and might be able to reach the Tiger Claw in time. He pointed at the dot.

"Who's this?"

Bellegarde studied the holograph, then typed on his pad. "It's a

requisitioned merchantman, sir. The Diligent."

"The Diligent!" Narrowing his gaze, Tolwyn watched as the dot grew

into the rather bulky, purely functional form of the transport vessel. What

she lost in appearance she gained in strategic position.

"She's captained by James Taggart," Bellegarde added.

With that, bad luck and operative words like "might" got burned away

by Tolwyn's recognition. He had been meaning to check on Taggart's

whereabouts. Now fate had stepped on the bridge to whisper the

coordinates in his ear. "Can you pull up her log?"

"Already have. She's en route to the Tiger Claw with two replacement

pilots: First Lieutenants Todd Marshall and Christopher Blair."

Blair. Another name from long ago. In their quest to end humanity's

future, the Kilrathi had inadvertently summoned up two distinct figures

from Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn's past. If nothing else, the immediate

future would prove bittersweet. He stared through the merchantman's

ghostly hull and said, "Open a secure channel to the Diligent immediately.

I need to speak to her captain—"

"Right away, sir."

"—and this First Lieutenant Blair."