Wing Commander in Real Time - Day 3 - 1000 Zulu

Script

198A EXT. KILRATHI BATTLE GROUP

The massive ships head through space, the Charybdis

Quasar a distant swirl of color.

SUPERIMPOSE: KILRATHI BATTLE GROUP. 2 HOURS FROM THE

CHARYBDIS JUMP POINT>

198B INT. SNAKEIR - BRIDGE

Admiral looks out the windows at the distant Charybdis

Quasar. TRAITOR stands in shadow behind him.

TRAITOR

You should have sent more ships. The

Tiger Claw is alive, and still a

threat.

ADMIRAL looks at the traitor, contempt and hate evident.

ADMIRAL

Go to the ConCom. Prepare the jump

coordinates and transmit them to the

fleet.

199 INT. TIGER CLAW - FLIGHT DECK

The deck looks better. Each surviving pilot heads up his

own maintenance team, trying to refurbish the remaining

Rapiers. Other crewmen try to repair the sprung door

seals in the background as Blair comes out on the deck,

sees Deveraux hunched under her own fighter. He

approaches her.

BLAIR

Angel?

DEVERAUX emerges from under her plane. She still looks

shaken from Forbes' death, but she can't let go of her

stiffness towards Blair.

DEVERAUX

What is it, Lieutenant

BLAIR

Can we stop this bullshit, please.

DEVERAUX'S shocked to hear Blair talk so bluntly.

BLAIR (CONT'D)

I'm sorry about Forbes.

DEVERAUX

...Who?

BLAIR

(Shakes his head.)

Don't. It's a shitty game, Angel. I

just tried to play it with Maniac and

you know what? It hurt. It's supposed

to. You don't just forget the people

you loved. They deserve more than

that.

DEVERAUX

What do you want to do about it, Blair?

BLAIR

Help.

DEVERAUX

I'm all out.

Turns back to the Rapier.

BLAIR

He was crazy about her.

DEVERAUX stiffens.

DEVERAUX

He was crazy about her? She was my best

friend.

(a beat)

I loved her.

BLAIR

He blames himself for what happened.

DEVERAUX

And so he should.

BLAIR

His confidence is shot. He's

questioning every more he made. He

can't go back up in that condition. And

right now, I think we need all the

pilots we can get, Angel. How about you?

DEVERAUX

I'll think about it.

BLAIR

He's a good guy. There's no reason to

hate him.

Deveraux thinks about that.

BLAIR turns to go.

DEVERAUX

Blair--

Blair turns around.

BLAIR

Yeah.

DEVERAUX

Thanks.

SC. 200 OMIT

201 EXT. TIGER CLAW - LATER

Work crews in space suits continue to repair the hull.

Then, a sound is superimposed, the STEADY BEEP-BEEPING of

a locator beacon.

202 OMIT

SC. 203 OMIT

204 INT. TIGER CLAW - BRIDGE

PALADIN is already there. GERALD AND DEVERAUX arrive.

They hear the telltale sound of an incoming ship.

DEVERAUX

What is she? Another destroyer?

GERALD

It doesn't matter. We can't take

another round of bombardment

DEVERAUX

I have four Rapiers ready to go, sir.

We'll go down fighting.

PALADIN

We'll do better than that, Angel.

That ship up there is going to save our

ass.

Novelization

CHAPTER 23

KILRATHI BATTLE GROUP

SNAKEIR-CLASS CRUISER KIS GRIST'AR'ROC

ULYSSES CORRIDOR

MARCH 17, 2654 1000 HOURS ZULU TIME

3 HOURS FROM CHARYBOIS QUASAR JUMP POINT

Commander Ke'Soick looked toward the lift doors at the back

of the bridge. Thiraka took the suggestion and moved cautiously

away from his captain's station, eyes trained on Admiral

Bokoth. The kalralahr stood at the forward viewport,

contemplating the swirls and hues of the quasar. No one dared

interrupt him. "Kal Shintahr," Ke'Soick whispered, standing

near the doors and well out of Bokoth's earshot. "I want to kill

him. Permit me the honor."

"No."

Ke'Soick's lips curled back. "Then his trust in the Pilgrim will

kill us all."

"Easy, my friend. It won't come to that."

"You've let it come this far, haven't you? He's of your clan.

You have much more to lose. I understand, Thiraka. So permit

me the honor."

"I won't sacrifice you."

"There's no other way. We must be aggressive, decisive, and

above all, ruthless. You should lead this battle group."

"But I won't lead it without you."

"Kal Shintahr?"

Thiraka glanced across the bridge. The admiral had turned

from the viewport, his one eye panning the room. "Here,

Kalralahr," Thiraka said. He hastened away from Ke'Soick and

tensed as he arrived at the admiral's side.

"The whispering of young warriors troubles me," Bokoth

said, resuming his study of the quasar. "As we grow older, our

power shifts from muscle to mind. Does that shift weaken us?

Hardly. But you don't believe that. You'd like to be rid of this

old one who has taken over your ship and your battle group. Am

I correct?"

Thiraka hesitated. "If I answer yes, I admit to treason. If I

answer no, I call you a liar."

"And if you don't answer honestly, you will die where you

stand."

Retreating a step, Thiraka said, "Your presence here

undermines my authority. It reminds my crew that my own

father doesn't trust me. And the loss of two destroyers and a

dreadnought does little to—"

"I alone accept responsibility for those losses."

"You should have sent more ships," came a tinny voice from

the shadows. The Pilgrim neared them, his face pale, his small

lips quivering. "The Tiger Claw is alive and still a threat."

Bokoth flared at the traitor. "Go to the ConCom. Prepare the

jump coordinates and transmit them to the fleet."

The human held his scowl a moment, the stormed off.

"What about the Tiger Claw?" Thiraka asked.

"We'll place the ConCom within range to find her." The

admiral glanced at Thiraka. "You don't agree?"

"You serve the Emperor, Kalralahr. And I serve you." Thiraka

bowed before his superior.

"That is no answer."

"For the moment, it is the only one I have."

* * *

The doctors in sickbay had done an excellent job of sealing

Maniac's wounds, and they had instructed him to stay off his

feet for forty-eight hours. Blair had guessed that Maniac would

not last more than forty-eight minutes lying in bed. But once he

had helped his friend back to their quarters, Maniac had fallen

into a deep sleep, his body jerking as though the day's painful

events were replaying in his subconscious.

Blair could have used some sleep himself, but too much had

to be done. He returned to the flight deck, where he found

pilots heading up their own maintenance teams. Three techs

had already cleared the rubble from his Rapier, and while one

sat in the cockpit, running diagnostics, the other two waved

x-ray scanners over the fuselage, checking hull integrity.

Although Blair's Rapier had not sustained major damage, many

of the other fighters and bombers, nearly one hundred in all,

had fared far worse. Wings had been crushed, cockpits

shattered, landing gear snapped off. Blair stared across the

great sea of mangled metal and still had difficulty believing

what had happened.

To his right, a dozen techs led by Deckmaster Peterson hung

from four rolling cranes near the hangar doors. Bulkhead

panels running parallel with the doors had been removed,

exposing a complex network of hydraulic lines and electronic

pumps. Peterson barked commands, demanded reports, and

challenged his people with time limits.

After catching the attention of his crew chief, Blair started

toward the woman. Then he shifted course as he spied

Deveraux. She squatted near her fighter's portside landing skid

and stared up into the runner's compartment.

"Angel?"

She emerged from under her fighter, eyes swollen, hair

disheveled. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Can we stop the bullshit, please?" He had her attention. "I'm

sorry about Forbes."

"Who?"

"Don't." He shook his head. "It's a shitty game, Angel. I tried

to play it with Maniac, and you know what? It hurt. It's

supposed to."

"You're the authority?"

"You don't forget the people you loved. They deserve more

than that."

She closed her eyes. "What do you want?"

"Maybe I can help. Maybe we can help each other."

"I'm all out." She turned away.

"He was crazy about her."

"He was crazy about her?" She spun to face him, all woman,

all fire. "She was my best friend. I loved her."

"You weren't alone. You know he blames himself for what

happened."

"And so he should."

"His confidence is shot. He's questioning every move he

made. He can't go back up in that condition. And right now, we

need every pilot we have."

"That's right. But you expect me to put him back on the duty

roster?"

"Just do the right thing."

"I'll think about it."

"Maybe you can talk to the others. Maniac's a good guy. And

he's sorry, really sorry. There's no reason for anyone to hate

him."

She drew in a long breath and seemed to consider that. With

nothing left to say, Blair started for his fighter.

"Blair?"

He glanced back. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

Commander Gerald sat in one of the carrier's conference

rooms with Lieutenant Commander Obutu and Lieutenants

Falk and Sasaki. Lieutenant Commander Deveraux blew into the

room, the sleeves of her flight suit rolled up, her forearms

stained. "Sorry I'm late, sir," she told Gerald, then plopped into

a chair.

Gerald stood. "I'll get right to the point. Captain Sansky,

despite being incapacitated, has resumed command of this ship.

Confederation naval regulations permit him to do so as long as

he remains conscious and rational. The captain is conscious,

but he continues to trust Mr. Taggart."

"What the hell are you saying?" Deveraux asked.

"I specifically asked you to be here, Commander, so that I'd

have a witness. This isn't a conspiracy to commit mutiny. All I'm

asking is that you keep your eyes open. We didn't get our asses

whacked because we're stupid. Someone's been feeding the

Kilrathi our location. Maybe it's Taggart and the half-breed and

maybe it isn't. I just need to know that when the shit goes down,

you'll be there."

Falk and Sasaki nodded their compliance.

"Sir, I can alert Security," Obutu said. "They'll work quietly."

"Very well. Monitor all communications. And we have a detail

outside the ship doing hull repairs. I'd like surveillance there

and at all other major repair sites."

Obutu tapped a command into the computer slate in front of

him. "Done."

"Commander, if you think there's a saboteur on board and

you'd like to react to that suspicion, then I'm all for a quiet little

shakedown," Deveraux said. "But don't point fingers at Taggart,

Blair, or Marshall. For God's sake, Paladin single-handedly took

out that dreadnought. And Blair pulled him out of there. I'm not

worried about Marshall. I'll bring him around myself."

"Yes, they're all great officers—or they're simply keeping

their enemies close." A tone came from the messenger clipped

onto Gerald's waist. He checked the note. "Well, our friends are

back. Thank you for coming. Dismissed. And Deveraux? Your

friend Mr. Taggart would like to see you on the bridge."

She made a face and hurried out.

They took the lift together. Neither spoke. The lift hummed.

Finally, Gerald broke down. "So how are you doing,

Commander?"

"Sir?"

"How are you?"

She gave him an odd look. "I'm fine. And you?"

"Never mind."

Thankfully, the ride did not last long, and they stepped onto

the bridge to find Taggart at the radar station, staring into

noth-ingness as the telltale beep of an incoming ship grew

louder.

Deveraux headed for the transparent wall of the radar

screen. "What's out there? Another destroyer?"

"It doesn't matter," Gerald called after her. "We can't take

another round of bombardment."

Her expression grew hard, meant for him and Taggart. "I

have four Rapiers ready to go. We'll go down kicking and

screaming."

"We'll do better than that, Angel," Taggart said. "That ship up

there is going to save our assess."