He could not escape the mental images, the last call from Svetlana, Grierson turning to buy those few precious minutes, and the hangar full of the dead, wounded, and dying. There were only fourteen pilots left out of the forty-four that he had called pups only weeks before.
“Would you care to come over to Concordia with me, get some sleep?” Tolwyn asked, putting his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “My steward can cook up a hell of a steak along with a good stiff double whiskey, and there’s even a small tub there to soak in.”
“No, sir. I’d better get back to my ship.”
It felt strange to call it that. My ship. He remembered his first Ferret, calling her that, “My ship,” beaming with pride when his crew chief had painted “Bear” under the cockpit, complete to a small cartoon character beneath it. And now he was a carrier commander, and he would be ready to kill anyone who dared to say a word against the Tarawa, or any escort carrier for that matter. They were, after all, the best damned fighting ships in the fleet.
They walked out onto the flight deck of Concordia. It looked so big now. It was clean, immaculate, not like the tight quarters which were home.
Jason looked over at Merritt.
“Take care, marine.”
“You too, pilot.”
They shook hands warmly.
“She was one of the best. I’ll never forget her,” Merritt said quietly and Jason nodded, unable to reply.
He looked over at Admiral Tolwyn.
“And, sir, we’ve kind of got a hunch about the truth in all of this. Thank you.”
“It’s the other way around,” Tolwyn said quietly. “Thank you, and it was an honor to be out there with you.”
He hesitated for a moment.
“And Jason, thanks for my nephew as well. I saw your preliminary report, and Doomsday filled me in as well. He can’t say enough about him—it’s the most I’ve ever heard that man talk. You took Kevin out a spoiled little rich boy and brought him back a man that I’m proud of.”
“I kind of felt, sir, that if given the chance Kevin would finally prove himself.”
The two shook hands and Jason went over to his Ferret and climbed in. It felt wonderful to be back at the controls of a fighter again. The inside of the cockpit smelled of scorched wiring, the tactical display screen still cracked from a hit. He had a flash memory of Janice at the controls of her Ferret, turning in towards the torpedo. He pushed the thought away.
He taxied over to the launch line, took the clear signal and powered up, clearing the airlock and kicking on a touch of afterburner, pulling a quick roll for the pleasure of it. The flight was only a five-minute hop and as he slowed down and took the clearance for landing he first circled around his ship. The repair transport was still strapped alongside, a snakelike cluster of umbilical cords going from one to the other, pumping in air, energy, and fuel. A group of welders, in EVA garb, were swarming over the torn-off forward bow, spot welding durasteel plates on. The ship was a battered wreck from stem to stern, armor plating torn up, paint blistered off, the communications and surveillance instrument arrays tangled wreckage.
And yet there was a touch that made him swell with pride. On the port side of the ship, near where the bridge used to be located, a work crew had repainted the name of the ship “CVE-8 TARAWA.” Underneath was stenciled the traditional symbols representing her kills, and emblazoned in golden letters the proud statement FIRST TO KILRAH.
He swung around and lined up on the airlock door, coming through easily and touching down to a stop.
As he opened his canopy Sparks was there to greet him, her forehead still wrapped with a bandage.
“How’s the wound, Sparks?”
“Still a bit sore, sir. Thanks for asking.”
“I was worried about you, getting knocked out like that.”
“You were worried about me?”
“Sure I was.”
And she flashed him a radiant smile.
“Sparks, how does it feel to be a lieutenant now and head of all ground crews?”
“An officer, I never thought I’d see the day, sir. Thanks.”
“You deserved it for the work you did. We got through that fight thanks to your turning those fighters around.”
“I’m proud to be part of the team, sir, especially since you’re leading it.”
She smiled again and then stepped off the ladder.
He alighted onto the deck and saluted the far bulkhead wall, which had been riddled to shreds by the Kilrathi mass driver shots. A section of durasteel taken from a wrecked fighter had been pasted over the holes and a new flag painted on to it.
“Captain coming aboard.”
Two sweat-soaked non-commissioned officers came up to Jason and saluted.
“Permission to come aboard,” Jason asked.
“A pleasure to grant it, sir,” and the two returned Jason’s salute.
The ceremony over, Jason turned to walk over to the makeshift bridge.
Doomsday was standing by the ladder leading up to the bridge, watching as a new sheet of plastiglass was being lifted up to replace the one blown out in the final attack.
“How’d it go with the old man?”
“I think he’s all right with Banbridge. Hell, they can’t shoot a hero can they? Anyhow, while I was over there I got word on you.”
“Oh, now what?” Doomsday sighed.
“Your promotion’s been confirmed as wing commander for this ship, along with that medal of honor recommendation.”
“Yeah, thanks. Thirty new pups to train, all of them trying to get me killed.”
“Undoubtably.”
“Hope they don’t try and kill me the way you did.”
Jason laughed and walked away.
As he crossed the flight deck he saw the two pilots that he wanted.
“Round Top, Lone Wolf.”
The two, hunched over inside the weapons bay of a Rapier, looked up, their faces streaked with grease, and came over to Jason, shaking his hand.
“How’d it go over there, sir?” Round Top asked.
“I’m staying with Tarawa and word is that those decommission stories are bunk. She’ll go back for repairs, refitting, and back out for more action.”
“Great, sir, it’s what we wanted to hear about this old lady.”
“Chamberlain, I want you to take over as squadron commander for the Ferrets.”
Chamberlain grinned.
“Thanks, sir.”
“Kevin, let’s talk for a minute.”
Kevin fell in alongside Jason and they walked across the deck.
“I got an offer from one of Banbridge’s staff people while I was waiting to see the old man. I wanted to pass it along.”
“What is it, sir?”
“Banbridge wants you as an adjutant on his staff. It’s a top position, Kevin. Serve with Banbridge, do your job right, and you’ll move on to commfleet. You’ll be hot property there—a red combat tab on your dossier, a confirmed ace with a silver star with gold wings which I’m recommending you for; headquarters staffers love that type of record for their people. You’ll climb quickly, Kevin. Hell, you could be my boss in five years time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Jason looked at him, noticing the frown.
“Aren’t you excited?”
“Honestly, sir?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Tell them to stuff it. I can’t stomach those types of officers. I’d rather be out here flying with you and the rest of the crew.”