Wing Commander in Real Time - Day 3 - 1130 Zulu

Script

GERALD crosses the deck in several long deliberate

strides.

GERALD

Mr. Blair...

He smashes Blair across the side of the head with the

butt of his weapons, sends Blair sprawling to the deck.

GERALD (CONT'D)

I believe you just called me traitor.

GERALD lines the weapon on Blair's head, pulls the slide

back, motions to the panel with a nod.

GERALD (CONT'D)

Turn if off.

BLAIR looks at Gerald. If it's not him, then its....

A hallow, very human laugh cuts through the tension.

TRAITOR (O.S.)

To think we came from you.

Both men snap around, react at the sight of the Traitor,

weapon lined. He steps out of the shadow...

It's Admiral Wilson!

GERALD

Wilson? But the Pegasus? It was your

command.

WILSON

Twenty years of service. Ironic isn't

it? Twenty years, all to destroy the

world that trains you.

His finger tenses on the trigger.

BLAIR

Wait!

BLAIR lifts his cross, holds it high.

WILSON

Where did you get that cross?

BLAIR stands, cross held in front of him.

BLAIR

It was my mother's. She was killed at

Peron.

Wilson studies Blair.

BLAIR (Cont'd)

I was five.

WILSON

My wife burned in those flames. When

you remember Peron, what do you feel?

BLAIR looks at Gerald with a dead and deadly expression.

BLAIR

...Hate.

WILSON

(considers)

...If you're a Pilgrim, prove it.

Kill him.

BLAIR nods, reaches for his weapon.

WILSON (Cont'd)

With the blade.

Slowly, Blair's hand moves away from the weapon. HE

pulls the cross from his neck. A whooshing sound as the

blade periscopes out. GERALD pulls an ugly looking

fighting knife from his vest, assumes a fighting stance.

GERALD

I was right all along. Come on,

Pilgrim, pass your test.

BLAIR and GERALD circle one another, blades moving in

slow, almost hypnotic patters. BLAIR feints left and

Gerald tries to cut him. Blades spark. GERALD kicks

Blair. Blow knocks Blair off balance, gives Gerald the

advantage. HE swings, cuts Blair in the arm. Two men

circle. Then GERALD makes a mistake: with a head fake,

he stabs at Blair. BLAIR catches Gerald's arm, steps in,

and in a classic jujitsu move, sweeps his legs out.

GERALD lands hard on his back, BLAIR standing over him,

blade held high.

WILSON

Finish him!

BLAIR brings the cross down. But instead of digging it

into Gerald, he throws it.

Cross flies through the air, catches Wilson in the chest.

He staggers back, slumps against a column. We can hear the

hiss of his suit losing air. Inevitable death.

GERALD looks at BLAIR, approaches the dying traitor.

GERALD

Why warn Tolwyn?

WILSON

(weak smile)

The stars were the Pilgrim's destiny.

Not Earth's, not Kilrahs.

With his last ounce of energy Wilson props himself up. In

his other hand he holds something.

A grenade... With no safety! Wilson relaxes his hand. The

firing pin spins off...

BLAIR

Shit!

Blair and Gerald dive through the doorway, just as a huge

explosion envelopes Wilson and most of the room.

The two men get to their feet.

BLAIR (Cont'd)

(Turning to Gerald.)

Now do you want to know who your

traitor is?

Suddenly DEVERAUX and Marines enter.

DEVERAUX

You alright in here?

They look back at the scorched bridge.

GERALD

Secure the fuel cells. Blair and I

have some business to take care of.

SC. 234 - 244 OMIT

245 INT TIGER CLAW - SANSKY'S QUARTERS

Blair and Gerald rush in, weapons drawn. Sansky is

propped up in his bed, In his hand he holds SOMETHING.

GERALD

You were the best CO I had. Why?

SANSKY

Because, Paul, sometimes the role you

play isn't the one you were born for.

GERALD

You've failed in both.

SANSKY

(Smiling ironically.)

Have I? A bad spy and a bad captain.

(close to death)

Give this back to Tolwyn, please.

Sansky gives TOLWYN'S RING to Blair -- then his hands

fall lifelessly to his side.

Gerald picks up Sansky's HOLO-PIC, remembering better

times.

CLOSE ON THE HOLO-PIC: A different angle on the

Graduating Class Sansky is in -- At the podium is

ADMIRAL WILSON.

GERALD, staring at the holo-pic, reacts to the intercom.

Obutu's voice comes over:

OBUTU (V.O.)

Engineering reports that the Kilrathi

fuel cells have been adapted. We have

60 percent power.

GERALD

Very well. Take us out of the crater.

245A INT. BLAIR'S QUARTERS -- TIGER CLAW

Blair is changing into his flight suit - Ready for the

Tiger Claw's last hurrah. His hand instinctively goes to

his chest -- but the cross is no longer there.

He pauses for a moment, noticing Tolwyn's ring. He

pockets it and heads out the door.

SC. 246 - 249 OMIT

SC. 250 NOW SC. 251A

Storyboards

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Novelization

CHAPTER 26

KILRATHI CONCOM SHIP

ULYSSES CORRIDOR

MARCH 17, 2654 1130 HOURS ZULU TIME

1.5 HOURS FROM CHARYBOIS QUASAR JUMP POINT

Gerald crossed the ConCom's bridge in several long,

deliberate strides. "Mr. Blair," he began, then suddenly

smashed Blair's helmet with the butt of his rifle. "I believe you

just called me a traitor."

Blair rolled across a console, then fell to his knees.

After flipping the weapon around, Gerald aimed it at Blair's

head. He pulled the slide back, then nodded at the NAVCOM.

"Turn it off."

Three simple words… yet they shocked Blair. If Gerald wasn't

the traitor, then—

A hollow laugh resounded from the rear corner of the bridge.

"To think we came from you."

Wearing a space suit and clutching a large Kilrathi pistol, a

man stepped from the shadows, a man whose gaunt face seemed

familiar, but Blair couldn't summon a name.

"Wilson?" Gerald said, his tone so full of astonishment that

the word had barely escaped his lips. "But the Pegasus—"

The admiral took a step forward, and Blair had never seen a

man more consumed by hatred; it clung to his face like a

parasite. "Twenty years of service. Ironic, isn't it?" He extended

his arm, the pistol directed at Gerald.

"Wait," Blair cried. He lifted his pilgrim cross with a

trembling hand.

Wilson drew back, gazing suspiciously at the cross, then at

Blair. "Where did you get that?"

"It was my mother's. She was killed at Peron." Extending a

palm in truce, Blair slowly got to his feet, holding the cross like

a shield in front of him.

For a second, Wilson's eyes glazed over, as though he had

taken himself across the light-years and back to the massacre.

"When you remember Peron, what do you feel?"

Before answering, Blair turned his glower on Commander

Gerald. "I feel hate."

"So you think you're a Pilgrim? Do you have any idea what it's

like to wait a lifetime for justice?" He waved the pistol at

Gerald. "My people gave them the stars… our greatest folly."

"Your people murdered millions," Gerald said. "Your regrets

should lie there, you bastard."

Wilson seemed unaffected by the remark. He favored Blair,

his expression brightening. "So, boy, if you're a Pilgrim, prove

it." He raised his chin to Gerald. "Kill him."

Blair's nod came easily, and he turned back for his rifle, his

thoughts colliding as he fully comprehended the moment. He

had enough bitterness stored inside to fight Gerald, but could

he kill the man? The answer was obvious.

"No rifles," Wilson said. "Use the blade."

Shifting back, Blair pulled the cross from its chain and

touched the center symbol. The cutting edge flashed out.

Gerald withdrew a long, ugly-looking fighting knife from his

vest. Not standard-issue to be sure, the blade seemed to bear a

charge of winking silver. Gerald assumed a fighting stance,

grinning ominously. "I was right all along. Come on, Pilgrim.

Pass your test." The commander lunged at him.

Skirting behind a console, Blair saw that he had reached a

dead end at the bulkhead. He climbed atop one of the stations

and leaped into an open area, behind the helm controls. Gerald

followed. Now they circled each other, feinting with their

blades.

Time slowed for Blair, his arm moving in a hypnotic pattern

as the feeling of hopelessness grew. Gerald seemed part of some

bad dream, while Wilson, looking on, had emerged from a

nightmare. Mother? Father? Is this what we are?

I can't be in this place. I can't do this.

Sparks skittered along his blade as Gerald's big knife made

contact. Blair fought against the other man's weight, then

flipped his wrist, breaking pressure while spinning behind

Gerald.

But the commander whirled around, boot raised, and kicked

Blair in the ribs. As Blair fought to remain standing, he saw

Gerald lift his blade—

A horrible tearing sound came from the sleeve of Blair's

space suit. He reached for the tear, reeling back farther from

the commander. Automatic voice alarms warned him that

Gerald's blade had penetrated the suit's first layer.

He tensed once more as Gerald, now wild-eyed, searched for

an opening. The man's blade shot at him once, twice, a third

time, and Blair parried each assault. He remained defensive,

caught his breath, and watched as the commander's face grew

more flushed.

"Is that all you have, Mr. Gerald?" Wilson taunted.

Swearing at the admiral, Gerald feinted right, lowered his

head, and came in with a thrust toward Blair's abdomen.

Instead of parrying, Blair grabbed Gerald's wrist with his free

hand, then threw himself beneath the commander, sweeping

out the man's legs in a classic jujitsu move he remembered from

boot camp. Gerald landed hard on his back as Blair followed

through with the maneuver, exploiting his momentum to roll

and hover over the commander, blade centered over the man's

heart.

"Finish him!" Wilson cried.

He looked at Gerald, whose face paled in the half-light. The

commander mouthed a curse, and Blair suddenly felt as though

he had been dipped in ice water as he imagined Gerald writhing

in agony. He lifted the blade a few inches, preparing to drive it

home—

Then turned, flicking his wrist.

The blade warbled, threw off dazzles of gold and silver, then…

Thump!

The admiral flinched, looked down at the cross stuck in his

chest, then raised his head, wearing a new mask of horror as his

space suit began hissing loudly. He stumbled, reaching blindly

for support, then slumped against a column.

Gerald sat up, and Blair proffered his hand. "Take it, sir."

After a moment's consideration, Gerald accepted. He went to

the admiral, whose face looked contorted and skeletal.

"Wilson!"

Despite his agony, the man remained conscious.

"Why warn Tolwyn?" Gerald demanded. "Your Kilrathi

friends could've destroyed Pegasus, taken the NAVCOM, and

jumped to Earth with no interference."

He smiled weakly. "I used to think the stars were not my

destiny. I used to think I was human. But I'm a Pilgrim. And the

stars were the Pilgrims' destiny. Not Earth's. Not Kilrah's."

A faint click drew Blair's gaze to the admiral's hand, which

slowly opened. A concussion grenade sat in his palm, its firing

button triggered.

"Shit!" Blair cried, already turning to retreat. He crashed

into a pair of big chairs as he and Gerald darted toward the

hatch.

At the first hint of the explosion, they dove toward the

corridor. An intense wave of heat wiped over Blair's legs as he

hit the rattling deck. His comm unit crackled as the boom

overloaded his mike. He crawled toward the corridor, but a

second explosion had him cowering again. Black smoke poured

over them, and the snapping of flames grew louder. He forced

himself to stand and took a deep breath to ward off the

dizziness. Gerald was already on his feet.

"Now do you want to know who your traitor is?" Blair asked.

The hatch at the corridor's end opened, drawing Gerald's

attention. A Marine crouched near the edge, directing the

business end of his rifle at the commander. "Halt!" he shouted

as two other Marines joined him.

"Cogan? Deveraux?" Gerald called back.

Deveraux jogged from behind the Marines and through the

hatch. "Sir? What are you doing here?"

"Never mind. Secure the fuel cells. Blair and I have some

business to take care of." He marched past her.

She looked after him, then turned her troubled expression to

Blair.

"It's okay," he said.

"What business do you—"

"Gotta go." He sprinted to catch up with Gerald.

Once on board the Diligent, Blair gave Taggart the bad news

while Gerald prepared an escape pod for an express ride back to

the Tiger Claw.

"You're in the intelligence business, sir. Did we ever suspect

Captain Sansky of espionage?"

"No," Taggart said, still overwhelmed by the news. "He's had

a long and distinguished career."

"Is he a Pilgrim?"

"Who knows?"

Gerald stood in the hatchway. "Let's go, Lieutenant."

* * *

The pod came in for a rough landing, and Gerald ignored the

flight boss's complaints as he hustled toward the lift. Blair

struggled to keep up with him and tried to ignore the stares of

the deck crew. Two officers rushing off with drawn pistols

would invariably raise an eyebrow or two.

At Sansky's hatch, Gerald overrode the lock. The door slid

aside, and they rushed in like military police.

The captain sat up in bed, his sallow face registering only

mild surprise. "Gentlemen, I don't pose a threat." He checked

his watch. "In fact, I'll be dead in a few minutes." Noting Blair's

frown, Sansky waved a finger at a syringe lying on his

night-stand. "In the old days they used cyanide. The plecadome,

I'm told, makes for a more peaceful retreat."

"Jesus Christ, Jay. You were the best CO I had." Gerald

lowered his pistol and huffed his disappointment. "Why?"

"Because, Paul, sometimes the role you play isn't the one you

were born for."

"You've failed at both," Gerald growled.

"Have I?" he asked, his voice heavy with irony. "A bad spy and

a bad captain." His eyelids grew heavy as the poison took effect.

He battled against it, lifting his hand toward Blair. "Here. Give

this back to Tolwyn. Please."

Blair took the ring as the admiral's hand fell limp. He held

the ring tightly, needing something to believe in for the

moment, something tangible, something that wasn't a lie.

"Look," Gerald said, raising a holopic from the nightstand.

He thumbed through the images of Sansky's graduating class at

the academy. Admiral Wilson stood close by in every hologram.

There was even one of him at the podium, accepting his

Confederation commission.

"They're my age," Blair said. "I was just there."

"Here's the past," Gerald said, shaking the holopic. He

pointed at Sansky. "There's the future—if you let your Pilgrim

roots get in the way."

"I just want to know who I am, sir. That's all."

"I think you already know."

"Commander?" Obutu said over the intercom.

"Talk to me, Mr. Obutu."

"Engineering reports that the Kilrathi fuel cells have arrived.

They'll have them adapted in a few minutes. They estimate that

we'll have sixty percent power."

"Very well. Prepare to get under way." Gerald, realizing he

still held the holopic, threw it violently across the room. "If we

live," he began, trying to contain his fury, "it's going to take me

a long time to get over this."

Blair nodded somberly. "At least one of us will."