Wing Commander in Real Time - Day 3 - 0530 Zulu

Script

122B EXT. TIGER CLAW - FLIGHT DECK

DEVERAUX steps on to the flight line, looks out over the

line of pilots scurrying around fighters with flight

crews. Maniac and Forbes are the last to arrive still

putting on their uniforms. The rest of the pilots notice

with amusement.

DEVERAUX

Alright, ladies, listen up. We have a

ConCom with escorts. That means two,

possibly three destroyers, fighters,

and support ships. Primary target is

the ConCom. Everything else is gravy.

Let’s make them bleed. Mount up!

Hunter's Rapier is next to Blair's. DEVERAUX approaches.

MANIAC

I'm feeling good today!

BLAIR

Try to keep your mind on the Kilrathi,

there "Maniac".

DEVERAUX

Blair, take Hunter's wing.

HUNTER

Ma'am, I'd just as soon you assign me

another wing man.

DEVERAUX turns to Hunter, hard.

DEVERAUX

You have some problem I should be aware

of, Hunter?

HUNTER

(Looking at Blair:)

Yes, ma'am, I do. I won't fly with

Pilgrims.

DEVERAUX looks at the big Aussie, disgust evident.

DEVERAUX

...Blair, you'll fly my wing.

BLAIR

Are you sure about that?

DEVERAUX

Did I just give you an suggestion or an

order?

BLAIR

I got your wing, ma'am.

SHE walks away, leaves Blair and Hunter staring at one

another:

HUNTER

You put me or my shipmates in danger,

half-breed, I'll kill you.

BLAIR

You'll try.

113 EXT. ASTEROID RING - BROWN DWARF

Like Indians sneaking up on the settlers, the wing of

Rapiers, accompanied by two Broadsword bombers, quietly

picks its way through the debris of the asteroid rings

around the brown dwarf. We can hear the pilots radio

chatter.

DEVERAUX (O.S.)

Picking up any Com traffic, Baker

seven?

PALADIN (O.S.)

Nothing.

DEVERAUX (O.S.)

They're observing radio silence, except

for short range frequencies.

PALADIN (O.S.)

Or they aren't here any more.

DEVERAUX (O.S.)

Baker Two, three and four... Anything?

FORBES (O.S.)

Nothing happening, boss.

BLAIR (O.S.)

Negative, chief.

114 INT. RAPIER COCKPIT - MANIAC

Maniac is watching a cluster of blips on his HUD.

MANIAC

All right losers, listen up. I've got

three confirmed targets at five

o'clock, bugging the brown dwarf.

FORBES (O.S.)

Confirm that. Middle one's got a

massive electromagnetic signature.

DEVERAUX (O.S.)

It's the ConCom. Alright ladies,

Deploy for attack -- the clock is

ticking!

INTERCUPT WITH:

115 INT. BROADSWORD BOMBER COCKPIT - PALADIN

Scanning his equipment. Something's wrong.

PALADIN

(To himself:)

That's no ConCom.

(Into his Mic:)

Abort!

116 INT. VARIOUS COCKPITS

Deveraux is incensed.

DEVERAUX

Baker seven, you have no authority over

this mission or its personnel. You

will obey my orders.

PALADIN

Forget it. These are supply ships.

They were left behind and out of harms

way. The Tiger Claw is at risk. We

have to get back.

DEVERAUX

You are a civilian scout--

PALADIN

Commander, I am not a civilian.

(pause; decides)

I hold the rank of Commodore in

Confederation Naval Intelligence,

reporting directly to Admiral Tolwyn.

My callsign is Paladin.

Aboard the other Rapiers, there is astonishment.

FORBES

Yeah, right. And I'm Admiral Nelson.

PALADIN

My security verification code is

Charlie Six Alpha Zebra Niner....Try

it, Commander. Now.

There is a tense moment aboard every fighter in the wing.

Finally, Deveraux gives, punches the numbers into her

computer. Her screen blanks for a moment - Then a

message flashes on it: "Commodore James Taggart,

callsign: Paladin. Fourth Fleet - Security access

granted".

DEVERAUX

Lucky guess.

PALADIN

Listen to me, Angel. If I'm wrong,

you'll have missed out on taking out a

couple of freighters. If I'm right, the

Tiger Claw could already be under

attack.

FORBES

The Claw is already in that radiation

belt, boss. They couldn't radio for us

if they wanted to.

All the weight is on Deveraux...

Storyboards

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Novelization

CHAPTER 17

UNITED CONFEDERATIONCARRIER TIGER CLAW

ULYSSES CORRIDOR

MARCH 17, 2654 0530 HOURS ZULU TIME

7.5 HOURS FROM CHARYBOIS QUASAR JUMP POINT

Blair finished a walkaround inspection of his Rapier, then joined the

other pilots milling about the flight line, waiting for Lieutenant

Commander Deveraux.

The nearby lift doors opened, exposing Maniac and Forbes, both still

pulling on their uniforms. They hustled out of the lift as the others

guffawed—all except Blair.

"Targets locked," he muttered, then set his jaw and marched toward

Maniac. "Did you change the lock code?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The lock code on our hatch? I couldn't get in." He scowled at Forbes.

"And I heard laughing from inside, but no one would answer."

Maniac slapped a paw on his shoulder. "Someday, Blair, you're gonna

look back and say, 'God, I wish I'd been him.'"

"Some day, I'm going to look back and—"

"Ten-hut!" Knight shouted.

Blair abandoned his retort and scrambled to the line with the other

jocks. They assumed the pose as Lieutenant Commander Deveraux walked

down the row, her face unreadable. "All right, ladies, listen up. We have a

ConCom with escorts. That means two, possibly three Ralari-class

destroyers with their fighters and support ships. Primary target is the

ConCom. Everything else is gravy." She paused before Blair. "Let's make

'em bleed. Mount up!"

The group dispersed, and Maniac said, "I'm feeling good today!"

"Try to keep your mind on the Kilrathi there, Maniac."

"C'mon, Blair," Maniac whined. "Be realistic…"

Though he hated to admit it, Blair did feel a pang of jealousy over

Maniac's skill with women and fighters. But he felt even more jealous over

Maniac's ability to turn fear into a source of amusement. Maniac flitted

blithely through his life, neither suffering it nor apologizing for anything

he did. People loved him. People loathed him. He couldn't care less.

Blair started for his fighter, passing Hunter, who, as usual, champed

his cigar and brushed that long hair out of his face. Blair thought of

wishing the man luck, but as he looked up, he saw how Hunter made a

point of ignoring him, so he headed straight for his cockpit ladder.

"Blair," Deveraux called out. "Take Hunter's wing."

"I got his wing, ma'am."

Failing to remove his cigar, Hunter said, "Ma'am, I'd just as soon you

assign me another wingman."

Deveraux came toward Hunter, who had inadvertently stoked the fire

in her eyes. "You have some problem I should be aware of, Hunter?"

The big Australian sneered at Blair. "Yes, ma'am, I do. I don't fly with

Pilgrims."

"Then maybe you don't fly at all."

"Ma'am, there might be over a hundred pilots assigned to this bucket,

but I think you want me for this op. We both know that."

With disgust all but dripping from her face, Deveraux thought a

second, then said, "Blair. You'll fly my wing."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked.

Her eyes snapped wide. "Did I just give you a suggestion or an order?"

"I got your wing, ma'am."

She tossed an ugly look in Hunter's direction, then left. "Hey," Hunter

said. Blair hesitated.

"You put me or my shipmates in danger, half-breed, I'll kill you."

"You'll try." He stared unflinchingly at the man, then pounded up his

ladder. "It's all one big lovefest," he said through a sigh.

Once everyone had preflighted, the comm check commenced. When

Taggart's voice came over the channel, Blair couldn't help but dial up the

captain's private frequency. "Sir, I didn't know you'd be flying this one. In

fact, I didn't know you were qualified to pilot a Broadsword."

"Yeah, well, this mission needs a conscience, and I'm it. You keep your

head low and your eyes bugged, Lieutenant."

"Count on it."

Wondering if there were any more surprises on the roster, Blair listened

in as Knight, Hunter, Forbes, Polanski, Maniac, and Deveraux exchanged

status reports. Knight flew the other Broadsword, and Polanski now took

Hunter's wing. Maniac would, of course, fly with Forbes.

The launch went off without a hitch, save for Polanski's report of a

hydraulic leak too insignificant to ground him.

Blair held a steady course at Deveraux's four o'clock low. They, along

with the other Rapier pilots, escorted the two Broadswords. Originally

designed as an attack bomber for Kilrathi capital ships, the Broadsword

held its own as an all-purpose fighter, equipped with port, starboard, and

aft turrets as well as four missile and four torpedo hardpoints. If a

Broadsword got close enough to a capital ship (or in their present

situation, a Kilrathi ConCom ship), its torpedoes would successfully

penetrate phase shields. Thus, getting Taggart and Knight in close enough

to the ConCom ship remained the foremost objective. Accomplishing that

meant punching a hole through the Dralthi fighters surely awaiting them.

They came up fast on the ring of asteroids and debris orbiting the

brown dwarf. Blair slid his HUD viewer into place and surveyed the zone

with thermal scanners, finding it cool and clear. The strike force wove into

the field, huge rocks and splintered durasteel tumbling by, some pieces

just meters away.

"Picking up any comm traffic, Baker Seven?" Deveraux asked Taggart.

"Nothing."

"Let's get in a little closer."

"My words exactly," Maniac said.

"Shuddup," Polanski groaned. "Pervert."

"Secure that, ladies," Deveraux ordered.

"Com traffic still at zero," Taggart reported.

"They're observing radio silence," Deveraux said. "Except for

short-range frequencies."

"Or they aren't here anymore," Taggart warned.

"Baker Two, Three, and Four," Deveraux called. "Anything?"

Blair scanned his radar display. "Nada, Chief."

"Nothing happening, Boss," Forbes said.

Maniac released an exaggerated hem. "My scope's clean, Commander."

"Dammit!" Hunter cried.

"What is it?" Deveraux demanded.

"Big piece of something just glanced off my canopy. Computer didn't

course-correct in time."

"He's probably going nuts without his cigar," Polanski said. "He's

having hallucinations of little dancing cigars."

Several pilots chuckled into the comm, but Blair knew better than to

join them.

Then Maniac's masked face and big, round eyes lit up Blair's VDU. "All

right, losers, listen up. I got three confirmed targets at five o'clock, near

the brown dwarf."

"Confirm that," Forbes said. "Middle one has a massive

electromagnetic signature."

Blair switched the radar report to his HUD. A grid formed at his twelve

o'clock, with coordinates scrolling at its corners. The three blips advanced

slowly through the lines. "Target number one, bearing one-two-five by

three-four-five. Target number two, bearing one-two-six by three-six-six.

Target number three, bearing one-three-zero by three-seven-seven.

Intercept course locked and disseminating, roger."

"It's the ConCom," Deveraux said. "All right, ladies, deploy for attack.

The clock is ticking."

"You all can hold back if you like," Maniac said as he leapt past the

other Rapiers. "Maniac'll put these cats out for the night."

"Do not abandon your wingman," Deveraux said.

"Don't worry, Commander," Forbes said. "He's just having trouble

keeping up with me." Then her Rapier shot off and razored past Maniac's,

narrowly missing a long pipe that rolled end over end.

"Blair. Stay close. Here we go," Deveraux said.

"That's no ConCom," Taggart muttered, his voice barely perceptible.

"Abort!"

"You're kidding," Maniac said.

"Baker Seven, you have no authority over this mission or its personnel,"

Deveraux barked. "You will obey my orders."

"Forget it. I've already analyzed those targets. They're Dorkir-class

supply ships. They were deliberately left behind and out of harm's way."

"You're saying they want us to attack those freighters, then they'll

ambush us?"

"Not us, Commander. The Tiger Claw. She's at risk. We have to get

back."

"You're a civilian scout. Why should I—"

"Commander, I'm not a civilian."

"Mr. Taggart. I don't have time for—"

"I hold the rank of commodore in Confederation Naval Intelligence,

reporting directly to Admiral Tolwyn. My call sign is Paladin."

"Yeah, right," Forbes said. "And I'm Admiral Nelson."

"Shuddup!" Blair said, intent on Taggart's revelation.

"My security verification code is Charlie Six Alpha Zebra Niner. Try it,

Commander. Now."

Blair couldn't wait for Deveraux. He plugged the numbers into his own

computer's touchpad, attempting to tap into the Confederation Navy's

Datanet. The left VDU blinked for a moment, then a message rolled across

the screen:

COMMODORE JAMES TAGGART

CALL SIGN PALADIN

FOURTEENTH FLEET

SECURITY ACCESS GRANTED

"Holy…" Blair lapsed into astonishment.

"Lucky guess," Deveraux told Taggart. "For all I know, you could've

killed the real commodore and assumed his identity."

"Listen to me, Angel. That's all I ask. If I'm wrong, you'll have missed

out on destroying a couple of freighters. If I'm right, the Tiger Claw could

already be under attack."

"The Claw is already in the radiation belt, boss. They couldn't contact

us if they wanted to," Forbes pointed out.

"Well, I ain't for turning tail," Hunter said. "I say we take out the

freighters, then go back for the Claw."

"So we can pick through her rubble for survivors, Mr. Hunter?" Taggart

asked.

"We're not taking a vote here," Blair said. "It's up to the commander.

What do you say, ma'am?"

As Blair waited for her reply, he pictured the others doing the same.

Forbes rubbed her eyes and wished she had spent more time sleeping.

Polanski threw his head back and swore. Hunter damned regulations to

hell, unclipped his O2 mask, and stuffed an unlit cigar between his lips.

Knight imagined with a shudder that a hundred fighters now buzzed over

the Claw. Maniac itched with the desire to race forward and kick some

Kilrathi butt. Taggart muttered a half-dozen "come on's" as precious

seconds ticked by.

And Lieutenant Commander Jeanette Deveraux heaved a sigh and felt

the absolute loneliness of her rank.