Wing Commander in Real Time - Day 3 - 1030 Zulu

Script

205 INT. TIGER CLAW - MANIAC'S QUARTERS

Klaxon bells announce the upcoming mission but Maniac,

bandage wrapped around his bare chest, seems oblivious.

HE just lies there. Door open with a hiss.

DEVERAUX (O.S.)

Lieutenant? It's time suit up.

MANIAC

(expressionless)

Ma'am?

DEVERAUX

I need my best pilots out there.

MANIAC

I don't know if I'm one of your best

pilots.

DEVERAUX

Does everyone here think that I go

around making suggestions?

MANIAC

No ma'am.

DEVEREAUX

Then I guess I gave an order. Be on the

flight deck in five minutes.

(a beat)

And do it for Rosie.

SHE strides away, but her act of forgiveness has worked.

MANIAC grabs his flight suit, his expression half way

between that crazed smile of his and tears.

206 INT. TIGER CLAW - FLIGHT DECK

The Diligent, and two Rapiers are being readied for a

launch. A squad of Marines marches into the Diligent in

space suits. GERALD, in a space-suit, is among them.

207 INT. DILIGENT - HATCH

PALADIN and BLAIR are supervising the boarding from

inside the Diligent's hatch. They are not happy to see

Gerald marching up the gangplank.

PALADIN

I think you're on the wrong ship,

Commander.

GERALD

I still have a responsibility to this

crew, Commodore. And, excuse my

bluntness, but if you think I'm going

to let my men be flown into combat by a

rogue and a half-breed you are sadly

mistaken.

With that GERALD pushes past them. PALADIN looks at

Blair. With a wink:

PALADIN

He's really a great guy once you get to

know him.

SC. 208 OMIT

209 EXT. ABOVE MOON ASTEROID BELT

The Diligent lurks behind an asteroid, its form folded

into its ragged ridge line A shadow passes over her, and

a large Kilrathi ship--the ConCom ship seen earlier--

passes directly over her. Two Dralthi escorting.

210 INT. DILIGENT - BRIDGE

GERALD, PALADIN, DEVERAUX and BLAIR, all in full space

suits, listen to the searching radar signal.

210 CONTINUED:

Behind them, we see THE MARINES checking equipment

dropping clips into weapons.

THEIR POV, through the Diligent windows; The ConCom

ship.

DEVERAUX

That's no destroyer.

BLAIR

It's the Communication ship we came up

against.

GERALD

They'll spot our heat corona, soon.

PALADIN

They won't have the chance. Blair, man

the ion gun.

(pushes radio button)

Hit it.

211 EXT. ASTEROID FIELD

The two Rapiers streak from behind meteorites and engage

the Dralthi. The Kilrathi ComCon ship begins to veer

away, but as it passes the asteroid, the Diligent leaves

its cover and heads for it. Maniac's Rapier DESTROYS THE

FIRST DRALTHI

MANIC (O.S.)

(over radio)

Yeah!

The second Rapier is engaged in a winding, twisting

dogfight. Maniac veers his fighter to engage the second

Kilrathi.

TWO MORE DRALTHI suddenly appear from around the moon, n

full afterburner.

SCN 212 - 214 OMIT

215 INT. DILIGENT - BLAIR'S GUN POSITION

From his dome, he can see the Dralthi coming right at

them!

BLAIR

Tow more Bogies at six o'clock!

Blair opens fire at one of the attackers, who return

fire, then veers off.

216 INT. DILIGENT - BRIDGE

Paladin is piloting the Diligent up toward the larger

Kilrathi ship.

PALADIN

(over intercom)

Marines, to your stations!

217 INT. DILIGENT - BAY

The Marines, in pressure suits, lock and load their

weapons, gather around the bay door.

PALADIN (O.S.)

(over intercom)

As soon as you get in, go straight for

the bridge. We've got to get control of

that ship before they scuttle her.

218 INT. DILIGENT - BLAIR's GUN POSITION

A second Dralthi makes its attack run, cannons blasting.

Blair tracks him and blasts him to fragments.

BLAIR

Yes!

219 EXT. KILRATHI COMMUNICATIONS SHIP

The Diligent is alongside, inching closer to the upper

deck. The Diligent's docking umbilical extends...

220 INT. DILIGENT - BRIDGE

DEVERAUX

They can't use missiles, now. We're too

close.

THEIR POV, through the window: A Dralthi fighter

appears, heads straight for them.

GERALD

He's going to ram us!

SC. 221 MERGED WITH SC. 220

222 INT. DRALTHI - COCKPIT

The Kilrathi, in an opaque space helmet, streaks in, the

image of the Diligent reflected on his face plate.

222A INT. RAPIER COCKPIT - MANIAC

Maniac depresses his joystick.

MANIAC

Heads up, asshole!

222B INT. DRALTHI - COCKPIT

The Kilrathi turns his head, sees Maniac's Rapier bearing

down on him. HE can clearly see Maniac’s giving him the

finger.

222C EXT. NEAR KILRATHI COMCON SHIP

Maniac's Rapier collides with the Dralthi cockpit,

SHEERING IT OFF NEATLY. The Dralthi spins wildly out of

control and c rashes into the Communications ship!

222D INT. RAPIER COCKPIT - MANIAC

Maniac's damaged Rapier shakes, rattle and rolls.

MANIAC

That's for you, Rosie.

SC. 223 - 226 OMIT

Storyboards

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Novelization

CHAPTER 24

UNITED CONFEDERATION CARRIER TIGER CLAW

ULYSSES CORRIDOR

MARCH 17, 2654 1030 HOURS ZULU TIME

2.5 HOURS FROM CHARYBOIS QUASAR JUMP POINT

Maniac had tried to sleep, but Rosie's death played itself out

in his dreams like a holo trapped in a loop. His chest felt heavy,

and the thought of food made him sick. He had risen from bed

and had accessed the ship's datanet to lose himself in video

recorded during the attack. But he found it difficult to

concentrate and twice thought he sensed Rosie staring over his

shoulder. In short, living hurt.

Now he rolled onto his stomach, his bandages tugging

painfully on his waist. His pillow smelled like her perfume, and

he took a deep breath, his eyes rimmed by tears.

Then he suddenly felt angry for what had happened. It wasn't

my fault! Do you think I wanted to get her killed?

He wasn't sure who he had asked. God, maybe. The lack of a

reply drove him farther inward, where he found his guilt

waiting for him. He had not known Rosie Forbes for very long,

but war affected time as efficiently as a gravity well. Two days or

twenty years… it didn't matter. Life grew more intense when

you lived on the border of death. You met someone, and in your

minds you got married, had kids, retired, and died—all in the

span of a one- or two-day stand-down. So Maniac had shared a

lifetime with Rosie during their two days. Then he had thrown

it all away by believing that he had ultimate power and control

over his life. The safe world, the just world, had died with her.

He no longer trusted anyone or anything. And he believed in

nothing.

An alert call echoed from the intercom, but it seemed distant

and unreal. He buried his head deeper in the pillow and stared

across a black void until he saw two Dralthi detach themselves

from their wing and fly toward him. He fired all guns and

launched all missiles, but every round missed. To starboard,

Rosie's bright eyes flashed a second before both Dralthi

slammed into her fighter. He jerked up from the pillow, his

body rocked by chills.

"Lieutenant? C'mon. Open the goddamned door. Lieutenant?"

Someone had been calling him. "Come," he said, and the

hatch slid aside.

Deveraux wore a new flight suit and had a computer slate

tucked under her arm. "I just came from a conversation with

your doctor. He wants you off your feet. I think you can handle

that—seated in a cockpit. Let's go. Time to suit up."

He pulled the blanket over his boxers. "Ma'am?"

"I need my best pilots out there."

"I don't know if I'm one of your best pilots."

Her face drew up in mild disgust. "Does everyone here think I

go around making suggestions?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then I guess I gave you an order. Be on the flight deck in five

minutes." She turned to the hatch. "And do it for Rosie."

Deveraux left him floored. She had returned him to the duty

roster, but more importantly, she had acknowledged the

existence of a dead pilot. And that made Maniac suddenly want

to live. To fight. He sprang from his bed, grimacing as the

needles of pain dug in. He snatched up his flight suit and

fumbled with the zipper. Now it seemed okay to smile through

his tears.

* * *

From a position just inside the Diligent's loading hatch, Blair

watched Commander Paul Gerald lead a squad of Marines up

the ramp. Dressed in gray-and-red armored space suits and

packing toy chests of anti-cat weaponry, the cocky jarheads

appeared to have just blasted their way out of Hell's prison.

Scarred faces and hardened expressions testified that they had

made the escape more than once.

The commander also wore armor, and his presence had Blair

frowning. During the briefing, there had been no mention of his

accompaniment. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"Let's find out," Taggart said.

As he reached the hatchway, Gerald eyed them

contemptuously.

Mirroring the look, Taggart said, "I think you're on the wrong

ship, Commander."

Gerald lifted a gloved index finger and aimed it at Taggart's

nose. "I still have a responsibility to this crew, Commodore.

And, excuse my bluntness, but if you think I'm going to let my

men be flown into combat by a rogue and a half-breed, you're

sadly mistaken." He pushed past them.

Taggart winked at Blair. "He's really a great guy once you get

to know him."

Blair smiled tightly, then started toward the ramp. "I'll be

right back."

"Two minutes, Lieutenant."

He jogged across the hangar, where he found Maniac in a

Rapier, going over the loadout with his crew chief. "Hey."

"Hey, Blair."

"I wanted to talk to you after the briefing."

"Yeah, I had to get down here."

"How's the…" Blair rubbed his own waist.

"Better."

"Good." He stared at his friend, and Maniac suddenly looked

away.

"I'm all right, Chris. Really."

"I know you are."

"Then get out of here."

Blair smiled. "I'm gone." He dashed back toward the Diligent,

circling around a fast-moving ordnance cart headed in Maniac's

direction.

Inside the merchantman's hold, Blair found the Marines

seated on both sides of the bulkhead, their rifles standing

upright at their sides.

"Hey, Lieutenant?" a grunt seated near the back called. "Tell

the commodore to hurry up. We're so wired we're gonna start

shooting each other."

Blair cocked a brow. "I'll let him know."

He made it to the bridge and saluted Deveraux as she noticed

him. He took a position behind Taggart, who manned the helm.

Gerald sat beside the commodore in the co-pilot's chair, looking

as thrilled as ever.

"That's a little big on you, Lieutenant," Deveraux said,

studying his atmospheric suit. "Or you're a little too small for

it." Though she still sounded glum, her teasing was a good sign.

"If you'd like, I can take it off, ma'am." Blair wanted to pull

back the words; his suggestion drew Taggart's stare, followed

up quickly by Gerald's.

"Diligent. You're cleared to launch," Boss Raznick said

through the comm.

Taggart looked back to his console. "Roger, control. External

moorings and power detached. Internals powering."

Blair made a mental note to thank Raznick for his timing. He

edged away from Deveraux to stand beside Taggart. The

commodore took the merchantman past the now-open and

repaired hangar doors. The ship rocked a little as it parted the

energy curtain and skimmed over the dark runway. The crater's

deep shadows fell off as they neared a trio of colossal asteroids.

Taggart rotated ninety degrees to port so the Diligent's lines

now formed with one asteroid's ragged ridgeline. The two

Rapiers that ran escort hovered just below. Only a careful-eyed

Kilrathi could spot them now.

"Passive radar engaged," Gerald said, his announcement

punctuated by a faint beeping.

Taggart looked up, eyes distant as he interpreted the sound.

"We have the target."

"There she is," Blair said, pointing to the forward viewports.

A large ship glided overhead, her thrusters filling the bridge

with a bright orange glow. As the glare abated, Blair thought he

recognized her configuration. Two Dralthis flew at her sides.

"That's no destroyer," Deveraux said.

Blair went to the window for a closer look. "It's the ConCom

ship we came up against."

"They'll spot our heat corona soon," Gerald said.

"They won't have the chance," Taggart corrected. "Blair. Man

the Ion gun." He opened a channel to the Rapiers. "Marshall?

Polanski? Hit it."

As Blair hurried off the bridge, he heard Gerald moaning

about the Diligent not being a bomber, that they should not

have come out flying only what was available. The techs had

promised Gerald a Broadsword but had failed to deliver. For

once, Blair agreed with the commander; however, the Diligent

did boast a formidable weapons package, if not quad torpedoes.

He climbed up into the gunner's domed nest, then buckled into

his seat. The system automatically powered up, and he booted a

pedal, swiveling 360 degrees in one fluid rotation. He took hold

of the firing grips and got a feel for the ion cannon's range of

motion, its barrel protruding about three meters from the

transparent hemisphere. The asteroids and stars began

wheeling around as the merchantman broke cover.

The ConCom ship veered away as the Rapiers chased after on

full afterburners. Blair had flown enough missions with Maniac

to recognize his friend's, well, maniacal flying style. Maniac

performed a corkscrewing dive through a sleetstorm of fire,

juked right, then hit one of the Dralthis with a rapid succession

of expertly directed bolts that drummed shields to zero and

quartered the fighter into sizzling sections.

"Yeah," Maniac shouted.

Polanski's Rapier overshot the second Dralthi, and his

swearing crackled over the comm. The Dralthi tore after him,

and Polanski led the enemy pilot on a torturous, laser-lit course

through the rubble.

With reflexes hotwired to the battle, Maniac pulled into an

eighty-degree climb, aiming for the Dralthi on Polanski's tail.

A radar screen superimposed on the Plexi bubble caught

Blair's eye. He whirled to discover a pair of Dralthis rising from

behind the moon. "Two more bogies at six o'clock." He squinted

and opened up on one of the fighters. Charged atomic particles

magnetically accelerated at high speeds pulsed from the gun.

The Dralthi swerved out of Blair's glowing bead and answered

with a volley that thundered across the Diligent's shields. Blair

cursed his unfamiliarity with the weapon. He should have had

that bastard.

The ship jolted suddenly as Taggart increased throttle,

bringing them up toward the larger ConCom ship. "Marines, to

your stations," he ordered.

From below, Blair heard the Marines putting on their

helmets, locking and loading their rifles, and gathering around

the bay door. A sergeant's voice carried above the racket. "All

right, sweethearts. If this dispersion doesn't go by the numbers,

each of you will sacrifice a limb. Got it?"

"We got it, sir!"

"Hey, Sarge. Montauk says he'll sacrifice his—"

"Shuddup!"

"As soon as you get in, go straight for the bridge," Taggart

said. "We have to get control of that ship before they scuttle

her."

Another Dralthi zoomed across Blair's sights. He pivoted to

track the fighter and, grating his teeth, unloosed a barrage. The

agile little ship darted to port, but Blair found it once more, this

time locking on. An intense multicolored flash ended the cat's

mission. "Yes!"

Now alongside the ConCom, the Diligent's docking umbilical

began to extend. Blair watched it for a second, then swung

around, wary of more contacts.

On the Diligent's bridge, Deveraux repressed a chill as the

ship inched closer to the ConCom's wide upper deck.

"Their missiles are hot," Gerald said, reading his screen.

The news did not move her. "They can't use 'em now. We're

too close."

"They're Kilrathi, Commander. They can do whatever the hell

they want."

Before she could retort, a fighter dove into view, headed

straight for the bridge.

"He's going to ram," Gerald cried.

* * *

From a twelve o'clock bird's-eye view, Maniac looked down on

the Dralthi making a kamikaze run for the Diligent. A

long-range image from his forward camera showed the pilot

wearing an opaque helmet, the ship's bow reflected across its

face. Too bad, Maniac thought. He wanted to glimpse the terror

in the cat's eyes as he parted the starry heavens like Sivar

incarnate. "Heads up, asshole."

Turbines wailed as Maniac bore down on the Dralthi in his

own kamikaze run. He saw the pilot's head snap back and did

the only natural thing: He flipped him the bird. Then the big

barrel of his Rapier's nose sheared off the enemy fighter's

cockpit as Maniac pulled four Gs to recover from the dive. He

shot a look over his shoulder as the Dralthi did a pilotless jig

cut short by the ConCom's stern.

Damage reports flashed in Maniac's VDUs. The Rapier

handled sluggishly, but Maniac didn't care. "That's for you,

Rosie."

He arced back toward the Diligent, whose umbilical now

latched onto the ConCom. A few seconds later, the Kilrathi

ship's hull turned pink as the umbilical's lasers began to cut

through.

"Hey, Maniac? Form on my wing," Polanski ordered.

"On it."

"And thanks for the assist."

"You're buying when we get back."

"You kidding? I already owe Shotglass a week's pay. I've run

out of credit with him."

"Let me do the talking. I'm sure we can work out a mutually

beneficial deal."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"You're a wise man, Polanski."

They drew close to the two ships and circled overhead.

Maniac fixed his gaze on his radar display. He did not trust the

calm.