Hunter laughed. "And I've learned a lot since then… like when and how to lie!"
"You've learned, but you haven't changed," Mariko said in her gentle way. "You are my friend, but many times I feel that I do not know you. You are always so cheerful, always looking for the next 'good time.' Sometimes I wonder if any of this really matters to you, whether anything or anyone really touches you at all."
"What do you mean?" Hunter protested. "I risk my ass flying missions every week against the cats! That's not enough?"
"You fly missions for the adrenaline, not because of the enemy," Iceman said quietly. "I've seen it. That's how you are, Ian, whether you admit it or not."
"Well, enough pickin' on poor Hunter already! Let's play some cards!" Hunter put the cards, neatly shuffled, in the center of the table so that anyone could examine them if they chose. Old tradition, and no one felt the need to check for cheating. Tiger's Claw pilots didn't cheat, and with luck like Hunter had, he wouldn't have needed to anyway.
"Not me, Ian. I'm flying patrol at oh-six-hundred tomorrow, so I need to hit the sack," Iceman said, shoving his chair away from the table, and rising to his feet. "Good night, Ian, Mariko."
"G'night, Ice." Hunter grinned. "Thanks for the credit chips."
"I'll even the score next week, you'll see," Ice said from the hatchway.
"In your dreams, mate!" Hunter laughed. In the sudden quiet of the barracks, he glanced at Mariko. "So they're not lettin' you take any leave, lady? I'm surprised the Old Man is doing that to you, considerin' how well you flew in our last campaign."
Mariko Tanaka, callsign "Spirit," smiled and shook her head. "It is my choice and by my request, Hunter. I am too distracted now to enjoy a downside leave."
He knew why, unfortunately. Those bastard cats. First her man gets transferred away from her, and now the buggers are trying to capture the installation he was sent to, Hunter thought, wishing there was something he could do or say that would make any difference at all. Poor little Spirit, with her calm, remotely sad eyes and gentle ways… Ah, Mariko, life hasn't been fair to you at all. First your dad's death, and now this. You're like a little sister to all of us here in the fighter squadron, and a damn fine pilot… I hate to see you hurtin' like this, girl.
"Still no word from Epsilon Station?" Hunter asked gently. He thought he saw tears forming in the beautiful young woman's eyes as she looked away for a moment; but no, those dark eyes were calm and clear, as always. She would never show her pain; that was her strength and her weakness, both.
"The last report said that the station was still under assault, but that reinforcements were on the way," Spirit said, her voice as dispassionate as if Philip was nothing more than a casual acquaintance. "My last communication from Philip was before the Kilrathi invaded the system. I have not heard from him since."
"Hell, your fiancé is a tough guy, he'll do all right," Hunter said. "I remember arm-wrestling with him last time he visited the Claw, the bloke nearly sprained my wrist. He'll give the cats a good fight for their money, I'd wager on it. Next time you see 'im, he'll probably have a half dozen kills stenciled on his fighter!"
"I know, but it is so difficult, not knowing what is happening there…" The dark-haired young woman managed a smile. "Better to stay here, and on duty, where I have other things to think of."
"But some downside leave might do you good," Hunter argued. "You could go see the sights; something new, something to think about! Go see one of them Firekkan Fire-Temples or something!"
"Maybe some of the squadron could all take leave together," Mariko suggested shyly. "Like a family. Go somewhere together…"
"There's an idea," Hunter agreed heartily. "When we've finished playing babysitters to the Diplomatic Corps here in the Firekka System, and our Confed boys have chased those damn cats away from Epsilon Station, the entire squadron could take their leave together. Maybe we could go to Earth. Has your fiancé ever seen Earth?"
"Only once, before I was stationed here on the Tiger's Claw. I have not been home in several years now," she said hesitantly. "Sometimes—I wonder if it has changed too much. Or I have—"
He clapped her on the shoulder, and turned it into a brotherly hug. "Then we'll do that, Mariko. Tell you what, we'll go visit my old homestead. I'll treat you, Phil, and the squadron to some genuine Australian hospitality… I'm sure Grandma would love to have company out on the ranch, and we could do a little scuba-diving off the Barrier Reef. Hit a concert in Sydney. Get a friend of mine to show us the Rock, when 'is tribe isn't havin' a Dreamtime shindig. And then we can catch a low-orbital flight up to Tokyo and see your family. Just so long as I don't have to eat any of that raw fish, okay?"
"Sushi is very good food, Ian," Mariko began. "Very healthy for you, low in fat, high in minerals…"
He shook his head and laughed. "Not for me, sweetheart! I'll take you to the best steakhouse in Sydney. Costs a week's pay, but it's worth it!"
"Thank you, Hunter," Spirit said seriously.
"For what?" he asked.
"For making me think of something else. Anything else. It's been so difficult." She shook her head, as if to chase away whatever thought followed that. "So, tell me… when are you going down to the planet tonight?"
"The nineteen-hundred flight. Should be interesting. I'm curious to see the place," he said, keeping his tone light and bantering. "Great chance, actually, seeing the newest planet to join the Terran Confederation before it gets to look like everyplace else. Shotglass was telling me about them… the natives look kinda like parakeets. Big, six-foot-tall parakeets. But I've never met any of them." Except for K'Kai, and Ineuer really saw her, she was just a voice over the comlink… a vague kind of blur on the viewscreen.
"I have seen vids of them," Spirit said. "They look like friendly people. Do you like birds, Hunter?"
He nodded. "I used to raise pigeons and doves back on my Grandma's ranch outside Sydney. It should be interestin'. A little excitement to liven things up." He sighed. "What a boring assignment. Honor Guard to the Diplomatic Corps… who'd have guessed they'd farm us out to this, after the Vega Campaign!"
Mariko sighed, and played with her remaining chips. "I think they gave us this assignment so that we would have some time to recuperate from Vega and Operation Thor's Hammer. I'm sure they were concerned about the effects of that many combat missions on our crew."
"Hey, we've all held up just fine under the stress!" he laughed.
"All?" she asked gently.
"Well… Except for Todd Marshall, who's completely slipped his leash, if you ask me." He shook his head unhappily. Marshall worried him. It was something that he and the other pilots in the squadron didn't talk about, their fears of being assigned the kid as a wingman. He was totally unpredictable now, possibly suicidal.
You don't want a guy like that on your wing, not if you were plannin' to come back from your mission.
"That boy never had his brains screwed in tight enough to start with, and with the stress of that last campaign… too much for him, I think. He sure picked his callsign right, Maniac fits him just fine now." He tried not to think of how Marshall might have "called" his own fate by picking that callsign in the first place. That's what some of the others were saying. Any more thoughts like that, and he'd start wondering what fate Spirit was calling with her chosen callsign…
You're too damn superstitious, he scolded himself. Don't get like the others, lookin' for omens and hangin' onto good-luck trinkets! Mariko is no more callin' her fate than Maniac called his!
He picked up his flight jacket. "Well, I'd better start packing for the trip. See you when I get back, eh?"
"Enjoy your leave, Hunter," she said, smiling a little.
He just wished her smile hadn't looked so… faded.
Ten minutes later, Hunter was walking down the corridor to the flight deck, his haversack slung over his shoulder. He figured he had everything he'd need for the trip… a couple of sets of clothing, a carefully-folded Confed Navy Dre
ss uniform for impressing the ladies, a pair of hiking boots for exploring the native turf, and several bottles of good Scotch. Couldn't go on shore leave without the Scotch… no telling what the Firekkan natives drank, but he figured the odds were against twelve-year single malts. He wondered if he should bring some rations with him, just in case they tried to feed him birdseed, too. No, there are plenty of humans down there now, they've probably opened a bar and grill for all of us.
There was already a line outside the flight deck for the downside shuttle. He nodded a greeting at the two flight deck technicians who were directly ahead of him in line, and one of the Bridge officers, who was wearing a brightly-colored Hawaiian shirt and skirt instead of her usual crisp blue uniform.
Looks good, too, he thought, admiring her legs. Hmm. Didn't realize quite how good. Have to look her up when we get downside. We're both Captains, even… that's a good opening line I can use, maybe…
No one from his squadron, though. In a way, Hunter wished that there was. Going downside with some of his closest friends, the people who flew combat missions with him every day, would've made this trip better. There was something about partying with the people who watched your back and had saved your life a few times—not to mention the fact that you'd done the same for them—that made downside leave more enjoyable. Mariko was right, they should try to organize a squadron trip someday. Someday when the Confederation didn't need them—
Someday when they weren't spending watch after watch in the thick of battle, taking on the Kilrathi at impossible odds in one dogfight after another.
This was probably the closest to peace and quiet that they'd ever see. I shouldn't bitch about this assignment, we could be getting our tails shot at by the cats…
"Captain, did you hear about the patrol that ran into a Kilrathi transport convoy?" It was one of the techs, a blond boy with a serious expression on his face. The kid looked maybe in his late teens. And scared as hell under the bravado.
God, we're robbing the cradle now to get our combat techs! Hunter thought. How old is this kid? Eighteen? Nineteen?
"Impossible," Hunter said. "There aren't any Kilrathi in this system. We're completely off their trade routes, and several jumps away from the battle front. That convoy must've gotten lost, jumped into the wrong system by mistake. Happens sometimes; even the cats get bad navigators once in a while."
The kid persisted, his blue eyes nervous. "But, Captain, what if the Kilrathi try to invade this system? We don't have any real forces, just us and the Austin.…"
Hunter sighed. "Kid, don't let your imagination run away with you!" He took a closer look; noted the new look to the uniform, the spit-and-polish and regulation haircut. Lord love a duck. Kid hasn't even got the shiny rubbed off him yet. "Let me guess… you were assigned to the Claw after we came back from Goddard, right?"
The kid looked puzzled. "Yes, sir, but…"
Hunter interrupted him with a wave. "Don't go chasin' cats before you have to. And don't go seein' ghost-cats where there aren't any. You'll see real action soon enough, when we're reassigned to the battle front. In the meantime, you've got a whole planet to explore! Have you ever met an alien before, kid?"
"No, sir," the young man said earnestly.
Oh Lord. I can't stand it. Never could resist temptation. "Well, you're in for an interesting experience," Hunter said with a straight face. "The Firekkans are kind of like wasps, huge six-foot bugs with deadly stingers. You've heard that they catch mammals and tie them up in their nests to use as breeders for their young, right?" He paused, and the kid nodded vigorously, his eyes big and round.
Of course, he hadn't heard anything of the sort, but he wouldn't admit that to Hunter. Not to the Big Bad Fighter Pilot… Hunter dropped his voice, and spoke in a confidential tone. "That's what happened to the exploration team that discovered Firekka, you know. They were trapped in one of the nests… we didn't know what happened to them for months, and by then, of course—" he paused again, for effect."—it was too late."
The kid swallowed, visibly pale. "How—ah—interesting, sir."
Hunter shrugged. "Once they realized we were fellow sapients, they took us off the hunting list. Or—well, they were supposed to, anyway. Of course, some of the Firekkans don't want their planet to join the Confederation. So I'd be careful if someone invites you on a tour of a nest, if I were you. You might never make it back."
"Thank you for the advice, sir," the kid said, looking like he was going to be sick, right there on the flight deck.
The hatchway opened in front of them, and the shuttlecraft pilot stepped through. "Drop your duffels in the forward hatch, take a seat and buckle in," he droned, holding out his hand for the plastic vouchers.
"I don't… I don't think I want to go down to the planet after all," the young tech said faintly.
"Oh, come on, Jimmy!" his friend protested. "You can't back out on me now!"
The pilot watched this exchange with a bored expression, finally reaching out to yank the flight voucher from the kid's nerveless hand and shoving him forcefully toward the shuttle hatch. "Drop your duffle in the forward hatch, take a seat and buckle in," he muttered to Hunter, who smiled as he presented his shuttle voucher.
Hunter slid into one of the forward seats, closer to one of the clear ports that would give him a good view of the planet as they approached. A few minutes later, he heard the rumble of the shuttle's engines igniting, then the shuttle accelerated out of the launch bay and into open space. He tightened his seat straps again as they left the artificial gravity of the carrier. Someone's flight cap drifted upward to float near the ceiling as the shuttle banked away from the carrier, heading down toward the planet.
It's a very pretty world, Hunter thought, watching the planet through the port, growing larger and larger as the shuttle approached it. Blue and white… Looks a little like Earth, with all those oceans. I've spent too much time in ship corridors and space stations, I'd forgotten how beautiful a planet can be.
The ride down to the planet was bumpy with atmospheric turbulence, but no worse than some of the planetary combat missions Hunter had flown. The technician, he noticed, looked more and more nervous the closer they came to the planet's surface. The touchdown was gentle, considering that there wasn't an Automated Landing System yet for this planet. Hunter's opinion of the pilot's skills went up several points… he wasn't certain if he could've brought the shuttle down that smoothly. Through the viewport, he could see the barren rock of the landing strip, with red-brown mountains visible in the distance.
The pilot popped open the shuttle hatch almost as soon as the ship had stopped moving. Hunter picked up his haversack as he climbed down the ladder, looking around at this strange new world.
They were parked on a tall mesa of dark brown rock. Off to one side, Hunter could see a Firekkan nest tucked into another cliff face, the tall towers fashioned of what looked like tan reeds sewn together. It was larger than he'd expected, several dozen towers silhouetted against the sunrise.
And he saw his first Firekkan, as several of the alien creatures flew over the shuttlecraft, obviously curious about the new human arrivals. Shotglass wasn't entirely right, he thought, They don't look exactly like parakeets. More like some kind of predatory bird, with that sharp beak and the brown and yellow feathers. Like a hawk, kind of.
He wondered how they'd get across to the nest, when he saw the improvised rope bridge that had been slung over the gap. He started for the bridge, and heard an outraged yell from behind him. The technician, Jimmy. "Hey, they're not bugs at all! They're birds! They're six-foot birds!"
Hunter grinned, and pulled out a cigar. Maybe this shore leave wasn't going to be as boring as he'd thought—
He was sweating by the time he got across the bridge; not from fear, like the tech, but from sheer exertion. He'd forgotten what it was like to balance your way across one of those things—basic training had been a long time ago.
"Anything to declare, Kep-tain?" asked a strange voi
ce in his ear, as he paused to take a breath and ease the ache in his side.
He jumped, and turned. A tall Firekkan stood beside him, half-hidden by the shelter of woven reeds.
"Like what?" he asked. Customs! Son of a—brand new world, and already they're setting up Customs agents!
The Firekkan cocked his head to one side. "Anything to sell," he said. "Anything to trade."
Hunter heaved a sigh of relief. He'd gotten off easily—
"Anything to drink," the Firekkan concluded. "Al-co-hol."
Aw, hell. Resigned, he unloaded his precious Scotch from his bag, and lined up the bottles on the Customs' table. The Firekkan watched impassively.
"Ten credits' duty," he said. And as Hunter started to object, added, "each."
"What?" Hunter yelped. "This is personal consumption only! This is highway robbery! This is—"
"Ten credits each," the Firekkan replied impassively. "You have choice. Pay duty, or—" He pulled a box from beneath the table, containing padding, a roll of tape, and a marker. "—or you send back to ship on shuttle."
Well, there was no choice. Paying the duty would seriously cut into his funds. Grumbling, he packed up the bottles with careful, loving hands, sealed the box, and wrote name and ID on it. The Firekkan added it to a stack of similar boxes behind him, and even as Hunter watched, one of the loading crew came to take it back to the shuttle he had just left. He sighed, watching his lovely Scotch going back home… leaving him behind.
"Have you an escort, Kep-tain?" the Firekkan asked as he watched.
"I'm supposed to meet Captain K'Kai here," he muttered, wondering what he was supposed to drink now. Water? It would be a damn poor shore-leave…
"Ah. Kep-tain K'Kai is waiting for pilot-Kep-tain. There." The Firekkan pointed with his beak, towards the right. "Look for sign of Red Flower."
"Thanks," Hunter replied, trying very hard not to sound as sour as he felt. He started off in the indicated direction.
"And Kep-tain?" called the Firekkan.
He turned to look back over his shoulder. The bird had its beak gaped in what looked an awful lot like a grin.
Wing Commander: Freedom Flight Page 3
