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 1st 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.
Strieger nodded and led him down the rows of beds. He noticed that even the uninjured pilots were here, not that there were many of them, all lending what help they could or moral support at least. Saymes was in the third bed on the right and his left arm and leg were covered in biotic gel to ease the pain of the burns and help with the healing. He saw Crineal and Strieger approaching and struggled to sit up.
Crineal motioned him down. “Take it easy, Captain. How are you feeling?”
Saymes let ou
t a weak chuckle. “Well, in the interests of keeping up morale, I’m doing fine, Sir, but honestly, I feel like shit.” His face turned grave. “Is there any news of Lieutenant Feldea, Sir?”
Crineal could see Saymes was expecting the worst. He smiled at him. “You can relax. She’ll be on a bed next to you before you know it.” A look of relief flooded over Saymes’ face. “SnR One picked her up a little while ago and is bringing her in now.”
“That’s great, Sir. She’s a good pilot.”
Strieger gave Saymes a tired grin. “We don’t have any bad pilots here, Captain.”
That elicited another soft chuckle from him. “That’s the truth, Ma’am. And the other two?”
Crineal shook his head. “No news yet, but they’re still out looking. You’ll know as soon as we do.”
He raised his head to look around for Captain Naralat and Captain Olinini, Alpha and Gamma flight leaders respectively, but before he could pick them out someone else entered the medical bay and Lieutenant Linthea called out, “Attention! Admiral on deck!”
Crineal turned to see Admiral Ken’Rathel stride into the room with the Annihilator’s captain, the ebony-skinned Aldar, behind him. He started to come to attention and salute the admiral and the captain.
Ken’Rathel waved down his salute. “At ease everyone, if anyone should be saluting it should be us.” He looked around the med bay, his eyes taking in all the injured pilots on the beds. His gaze came to rest on Crineal. “I thought you might like to know the analysis of today’s battle. The rebels lost twenty-five Archer bombers and thirty-seven Axe fighters. They only managed to launch twenty torpedoes against us which were all successfully intercepted. Our casualties total all of the injured here and the two pilots missing, although I fervently hope that they are found alive.” The admiral continued gravely, “Projections show that without your attack on the bombers, the Annihilator and Earth Orbital Three would have taken significant damage and massive casualties. I cannot thank you enough. I’ll be forwarding recommendations for commendations to Space Corps Headquarters in the next few days. But, as of right now, Hera Squadron is off flight duty and you are all on leave until our departure from Earth Orbital. For those of you confined to medical bay for any of that time then the extra leave will be added to your records, instead.” This elicited a tired cheer from the pilots who were able to. “The captain and I are proud to have you serving on this ship.”
Ken’Rathel and Aldar then made the rounds of the pilots, injured or not, guided by Crineal and Strieger. When they were done the admiral stopped and turned to Crineal. “General, I’d like to see you in my office tomorrow if you would?”
“Certainly, Sir. At what time? I have an oh eight hundred meeting scheduled with Commander Del’Tarim but that could easily be rearranged.”
The admiral chuckled. “Yes, I heard about your… meeting with the good commander. I don’t think you should put him off. Would eleven hundred be suitable?” he inquired.
“Yes, Sir, I’ll be there,” said Crineal.
“I look forward to it, General. Make sure your people have everything they want. If anyone objects then send them to me.” With that the admiral turned and left the med bay with Captain Aldar following.
Strieger moved up beside Crineal. “Who is Commander Del’Tarim? And why are you meeting him that early tomorrow?” she asked Crineal quietly, her voice burning with curiosity.
Crineal stared at the retreating figure of the admiral. “He’s our new flight bay commander and I’m meeting with him so I can decide whether to take up Lieutenant Perl on his offer and have him, Staller and Muscovy shove the commander out of an airlock.”
After contemplating this for a few seconds, Strieger said, “Ok, now you have to tell me what I missed. I never get to have any fun.” Crineal looked down at her and saw she was pouting. It looked both comic and very sexy to him. He was about to reply when his comm link buzzed again.
“Crineal here. Go.”
“Flight Control, Sir. SnR One is just about to dock in Bay Beta One. I thought you’d like to know.”
“Thank you, Flight, I’m on my way. Crineal out.” He turned to Saphya. “Fill the major in on our new flight bay commander would you, Lieutenant?”
Saphya saluted him “Yes, Sir, my pleasure, General.” Crineal returned her salute and headed out to meet the arriving Search and Rescue craft.
He arrived at Bay Beta One just as the ramp was being lowered on the Search and Rescue shuttle. Crineal strode over and stood there waiting as two med techs pulled the floating med unit out of the craft. A doctor was checking the readouts attached to it. Crineal winced as he saw the form on the bed. Lieutenant Feldea laid there, her coppery red hair damp and limp on the pillow beneath her head. He saw that her left arm and leg were pulped and her right flight boot was melted. The damage looked horrific. He knew it could be repaired using the wonders of Imperial medicines and technology, but Feldea was going to be in a lot of pain for some time. They moved off towards the med section, Crineal keeping pace with Feldea’s head. Her hazel eyes flickered open as he looked down at her. They were clouded by the heavy doses of painkillers the med techs had been feeding her.
“General, Sir…,” she croaked.
He saw her try to shift. “At ease, Lieutenant. Don’t move. The doc here has you in hand.” The doctor nodded at his glance.
“She’ll be fine, Sir. It’ll just take time.”
“So just rest, young lady. We want you back on the flight line as soon as possible,” Crineal smiled at her reassuringly.
She licked her lips. “Did…did we stop them, Sir?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, we did.”
“How…bad…the others?” she whispered.
“You’ll be seeing most of them in the med bay. Captain Saymes has the bed next to him earmarked for you.” They turned a corner. “You’ll have some company there for a while. We’re still looking for Bannerman and Rochelle, but everyone else is going to be fine. Including you. I’d take it as a personal favor if you rejoined us soon, medical gives me the creeps.”
Feldea gave him a weak smile and her eyes closed as they entered the medical section. The med techs had cleared the uninjured out and the senior doctor met him at the entrance.
“General, I know you want to look after your pilots, but that’s our job right now. Please let us do it and you’ll get them all back that much sooner.” Doctor Marrash looked at him sternly.
Crineal stood there for a second and then nodded. “You’re right, Doc, and I know they’re in good hands. You’ll let me know if anything happens or if any of them need anything?”
The doctor nodded. “Of course, Sir. You’ll be the first to know.” He held up a hypo injector. “Just a mild relaxant, General. We gave them to all the pilots we evicted.” Crineal grimaced and undid the top of his flight suit a little. The doctor placed the hypo against the general’s neck and there was a small hiss. “All done, go and get something to eat. You’ll feel better and it will help you sleep.”
Crineal left the med bay after a final look around and went back to his quarters. Once there he peeled out of his flight suit and left it in a heap on the floor. He dialed up a sandwich from the replicator and sat on his bed as he ate it, watching the data feeds from the med bay. Crineal hardly noticed when he finished his food and before he knew it he was asleep.
Chapter Four
Crineal’s eyelids fluttered open and he groaned. He ached all over and he felt like crap. Between the long patrol and the dogfight yesterday, his body had taken a pounding. He sat up and realized that he hadn’t even taken off his flight undersuit before falling asleep. Looking at the clock caused another groan, five-thirty. It was way too early, but he needed to move. Crineal stripped off the undersuit and changed into his exercise shorts and shirt. Once he’d hung up the discarded flight suit and grabbed a glass of water, he went to the gym. It was still early for most of the crew and he passed very few people. Those he did snapped to attention and he nodded to th
em as he went past. He wasn’t in uniform; therefore, they weren’t supposed to salute him but occasionally some new recruit did it anyway. Most days some of his crew were here; today he was the only Hera pilot. Hopefully, his people were either still in their bunks or getting ready to go on leave. He got onto a cross trainer and started his work out. Flight stresses required that all pilots maintain a minimum level of fitness. He hadn’t been blessed with access to Imperial health care in his youth so he had to work a little harder at it than the rest of his pilots. After the previous day’s exertions, he limited this morning’s session to thirty minutes, rather than his customary hour, and then returned to his quarters for a shower and brief breakfast. With that done, he dressed and went to his office. The first thing he checked was the condition of his injured pilots. They were all showing improvement and even Lieutenant Feldea was listed as out of danger. There was still no news on his missing pilots though, and that depressed him. He started in on the post battle reports and review. After a while his door panel chimed and he looked up to see who it was.
Commander Del’Tarim stomped down the corridor in a foul mood. After yesterday’s humiliating episode on the flight deck he had returned to his office and fumed for a while before calling in his aide. Even before the man was through the door, he’d demanded to know of him what the blazes local emergency flight regulations were. The idiot had looked at him in confusion before explaining that each fleet commander had the prerogative to stipulate exceptions to certain procedures in certain circumstances, but they had to be codified in a set of locally issued regulations. Del’Tarim snarled at him and asked how it applied to post-flight checks by pilots. The answer was hardly reassuring to his nerves. Injured pilots were exempted by normal regulations, but under the local regs flight and squadron leaders were also exempt from post-flight checks to enable them to check on their wounded. Del’Tarim thought that if he was in charge of the fleet he wouldn’t allow such soft-hearted sentiment to permit officers to avoid doing their jobs. Now, here he was, having to go and explain himself to some midget of a general. He stopped outside Crineal’s door, made sure his uniform was in order and then pressed the access plate.
Crineal Chronicles 1: In Hera's Service Page 5
