Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service (5 page)

“Will
do, Hera Leader. SnR One will pick up Iota Two and SnR Two and Three will sweep
for your other two pilots. I’ll pass on the likely positions as soon as we’ve
studied the log. If they’re out there, we’ll find them.”

“Roger
that, Flight. Better warn the bays that we’ll have a lot of pilots coming in
hot and hurt. Med bay is going to be earning its pay today. Hera Leader out.”
Crineal wondered if Hantos was still on board. They could surely use his
expertise in the flight bays right now.

He
looked at his tactical display to figure out why the rebels had run. After a
moment’s thought he nodded to himself. If they had stayed they could have
probably finished off his squadron but then they wouldn’t have been able to get
away from Chronos and Hecate bearing down on them completely fresh and with
good missile locks. They’d already lost at least thirty Axes and had as many
damaged. The two reinforcing squadrons would have smashed them to pieces. So
they had cut their losses and ran for it before Chronos and Hecate squadrons
could get within missile range. Another few minutes and Hera Squadron would
have been dead. The two other squadrons passed above and below Hera Squadron
and then closed up again once Hera was behind them, still heading outwards to
cover the SnR craft and make sure the rebels didn’t get all brave again.

Crineal
toggled the comm back to squadron frequency. “This is Hera Leader. Eta leader,
you’ll have the honor of leading us back in. Please try not to mess up the
flight deck too much.” Crineal hoped the attempted humor would lift the pilots’
spirits. They had done their job but it had cost them.

“This
is Eta Leader. Roger that, Hera Leader. We’ll try not to leave skid marks,”
Captain Treynar’s voice sounded strained, but her own attempt at a joke was
hugely welcome.

“Unlikely,
Trey, I’ve had complaints from the laundromat,” Strieger chuckled.

Crineal
felt a wave of pride in his people. They were all beat to hell but still able
to crack bad jokes. “Iota Leader, your flight will be next. I’m going to detach
Delta Three to join you. Lieutenant Perl’s ship is pretty shot up.”

“This
is Delta Three, boss, I’m good. I’ll stick with you. Besides I’ve heard that
you can catch some nasty stuff from Iota Flight.” That raised more chuckles.

“Alright,
Delta Three. I guess you can stay. I wouldn’t want you bringing anything back
into our hygienic little group. The rest of the flights will land in order.
Delta will bring up the rear.”

His
comm buzzed and Strieger’s voice came in on a direct channel. “Sir, I don’t
want to argue with you, but Delta is beat to blazes. You need to get in early,
too. Beta is in pretty good shape considering. Let us cover everyone in.”

Crineal
winced as he looked over at Beta’s readouts. Strieger was right in that they
were in better shape, but that wasn’t saying a lot. “I appreciate the offer,
Major, but you know what they say, rank has its privileges.”

He
could almost hear the sigh before she replied. “Acknowledged, Sir. Beta will
take its proper place in line.”

“Thank
you, Beta Leader. You can get started on making sure the wounded get to medical
fast.”

“Will
do, Sir. Beta Leader out.”

The
last five minutes of the journey back to the carrier seemed to take forever.
Crineal was constantly monitoring the status of his ships and waiting for the
alarms to sound to say that one of them had finally fallen apart. Miraculously,
it didn’t happen. He watched as each of the flights made their landings and at
last he led Delta Flight in. He kept a close eye on Perl’s ship but despite the
damage to the stabilizer Perl managed a rough but safe landing. It sure wasn’t
going to win any awards for tidiness though. As soon as his own Hunter had
touched down he killed the engines and popped the hatch. He was halfway out of
the cockpit before the tech had the steps in place. Crineal left the post-flight
checks to the tech crew and practically slid down the steps, pulled his helmet
off and headed to the flight bay doors to go and check on his wounded pilots.

Commander
Del’Tarim was furious. He’d only been in charge of the flight bays for less
than a day and they were already a disaster. The incoming squadron had put in
some of the worst landings he’d ever seen and it would take weeks to clean up
the damage. His bays should be immaculate just as the appearance of the sailors
under him should be, too. He prided himself on always being impeccably turned
out which helped to emphasize the handsome nobility of his features and
therefore his natural place as a leader of men. Blazes, his father was Lord
Del’Herat, one of the ruling Lords of the Imperial Council, and he expected to
follow in his father’s footsteps. He wasn’t going to stand for this kind of
sloppiness. He’d already stamped his authority on the bay crews and put three
of them on report so far. The pilots weren’t going to be allowed to get away
with this abysmal display of a landing. He watched, seething, as the last
fighter touched down and the cockpit swung open. Del’Tarim couldn’t believe his
eyes when the pilot shot out of the fighter and down the steps without even
bothering to do his post-flight checks. He stood open mouthed for a minute and
then roared at the short-assed little wretch.

“You
there, pilot. Stop right there!!” He couldn’t believe it when the man, who
couldn’t have been even six foot tall, failed to pay him the slightest
attention. “I mean you, shorty!” he screamed. “Get over here right now!!!”

The
pilot slowed and looked around and then stopped to face him. “Do you mean me, Commander?”

This
was insufferable. The wretch hadn’t even bothered to salute him. “Yes, I mean
you! Front and center now you pathetic excuse for a pilot. I want a proper
salute and then your name and rank. When I’m finished with you, you’ll be lucky
to be let near a latrine, never mind a fighter!” Del’Tarim raged, his whole
face contorted in anger. With his short black hair and immaculately styled half
beard, the fury gave his face an almost satanic cast to it.

“I
really don’t have time for this, Commander,” the man snarled at him and then turned
back towards the bay doors.

Del’Tarim
couldn’t believe it. Where the blazes had Space Corps discipline gone? What
kind of ship was this? He spotted the two guards standing at the bay doors.
“You two! Arrest that man now and bring him here!!!” He pointed first at the
guards and then at the pilot. The guards looked nervously at each other, but
didn’t move. In his fury, Del’Tarim had failed to notice that everyone else on
the flight deck had gone very, very still and was watching the situation with
wide eyes and mouths hanging open.

The
little pilot stopped and then turned, walking back to the commander with a cold
look on his face. He halted the regulation three feet in front of him. The
diminutive man looked up at the now apoplectic officer. “You would be the new
bay commander, I assume?”

“Who
I am is hardly your concern. I want to know who the stars you think you are.”
The lack of noise from the flight deck finally started to seep through to the commander’s
awareness and he realized everyone was staring at him.

The
pilot gave him a thin smile; the smile didn’t touch his grey-blue eyes.
“Crineal, General.”

Del’Tarim
stared down at the figure in front of him, sure he couldn’t have heard right
despite the fact that the sick feeling that had appeared in his stomach was
telling him otherwise.

“Well,
Commander?” the little man raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.

Del’Tarim
pulled himself to attention and raised his hand to his temple in salute. “Commander
Del’Tarim, Sir, commanding officer of Alpha Flight Bays.”

Crineal
just stood there for a few seconds looking up at the idiot who was preventing
him from checking on his people. Then he very slowly and lazily returned the commander’s
salute. He could see the sweat break out on the man’s brow. “I believe you
wanted to talk to me, Commander?” Crineal asked in a deadly smooth voice.

Del’Tarim
fought to gather himself for a second and then remembered he was still in the
right. Even if he was a general, he still should have completed the post-flight
checks before leaving the cockpit. He noticed three more black clad pilots, two
women and a man, now crossing the flight deck to take up positions behind the
general, helmets tucked under their arms. “General Crineal, Sir.” He was sure
the name was familiar but couldn’t think why it should be so. He certainly
wasn’t a noble and therefore couldn’t be that important. “You left your fighter
without completing your post-flight checks. This is a violation of flight deck
procedures,” his voice gained confidence as he spoke.

Crineal
stared at him some more before replying, “Is that so?” Del’Tarim noticed that
the expressions on the faces of the pilots behind Crineal had changed from
anger to cold amusement.

“Well,
Commander, I bow to your knowledge of flight deck procedure,” Crineal said
softly. “I would suggest, however, that you might like to read the local
emergency flight regulations. Once you’ve done that, you can report to my
office at oh eight hundred hours tomorrow.” Crineal turned back to the bay
doors and looked at the guards flanking them. “Gentlemen, if the commander here
tries to prevent me from leaving again, you are to shoot him immediately.”

The
guards snapped off salutes. “Yes, Sir, General,” and they brought their pulse
rifles to a ready position.

The
commander was now sweating heavily. As he stood to attention and watched the
little general leave, flanked by the other three pilots, he willed himself to
believe that the guards wouldn’t really shoot him; but, when he looked at them
both, deep down he knew they would. As the bay doors closed behind the four pilots
he became aware of the silence in the bay and he glared around. The bay techs
sprang back to life at their assigned tasks. Del’Tarim looked at them, daring
anyone to meet his gaze before finally turning and making his way out of Bay
Alpha Ten. He was sure he could hear laughter as the door slid shut behind him.

Crineal
strode heavily down the corridor towards the medical section. Everyone moved
out of his way when they saw him coming and the look on his face. Beside him
Lieutenant Perl spoke up.

“Sir?
Would you like me to get Staller and Muscovy and throw the commander out of an
airlock?”

The
blonde-haired 1
^st
Lieutenant Saphya elbowed Perl in the ribs. “This
isn’t a joking matter, Lieutenant.”

“I
wasn’t joking, Ma’am.”

“Thank
you for the offer, Lieutenant,” Crineal said grimly. “I’ll take a rain check on
that for the moment.”

The
three lieutenants looked at each other as they followed in the general’s wake,
each trying to figure out if he was kidding with them or not. It took them five
more minutes to reach medical and the awful scene there. Half the beds
contained injured pilots; only a few were able to even sit up. The medical staff
rushed from one bed to another checking the readouts and shouting instructions
and requests back and forth.

Major
Strieger spotted him as he moved into the room, quickly walked over and saluted.
“Sir, I was worried there for a while. I thought you’d be here sooner. Did you
having a landing problem?” She radiated concern.

“I’ll
tell you about it later, Major. What’s the sit…?” Crineal’s comm link buzzed.
“Crineal here. Go.”

“This
is Flight Control, Sir. Just wanted to let you know that SnR One just reported
that they have Lieutenant Feldea safely aboard. She’s badly hurt but they are
doing triage and heading back to the Annihilator as fast as they can. They
think she’s going to make it.”

Crineal
said a silent prayer of thanks. “That’s good news, Flight. Any word on our
other two missing pilots?”

There
was a slight pause “I’m afraid not, Sir. SnR Two and Three are still looking.
Chronos and Hecate are giving them a hand. They aren’t giving up yet, Sir.”

“Thank
you, Flight. Let me know the minute you have news.”

“Will
do, Sir, Flight out.”

Strieger
looked at him. “Good news, Sir?” she asked.

Crineal
nodded. “Yes, Feldea’s been picked up and is on her way back. She’s hurt but
they think she’ll be ok.”

“That’s
good to hear. And Bannerman and Rochelle?”

He
shook his head. “No news yet, they’re still looking. What’s the situation
here?”

Strieger
gave a heavy sigh and glanced at the seeming chaos around her. “The docs say
everyone will make it, but some are going to be off flight duty for weeks. If
we’re lucky we might have twenty pilots available in three days, maybe thirty
in a week… maybe.” She looked over at Perl and noticed his awkward stance and
the damage to the left leg of his flight suit. “Lieutenant?”

Perl
shifted to attention stiffly and saluted. “Yes, Ma’am?”

Strieger
pointed to an empty bed. “Bed, now, and don’t even think about arguing.”

Saphya
and Linthea, the other Delta Flight pilot, helped him over to the empty bunk
and he sat down with a groan of relief.

“Let’s
go give Saymes the good news about Feldea,” Crineal said.