The Battlestar Glory Ch. 03

(This is not a sexy story. It is a space war thriller.)

Chapter 3: The Insects Make A Dangerous Enemy

"David!" said a pleasing but insistent voice.

A serious looking dark haired man continued to hack away at the soil with a hoe, listening to the birds chirp on... what was the name of the planet? Just beyond the edges of Alliance space, it only had a numerical designation, but the man had been giving some thought to giving it a name. All in good time; with Amy, there was always time.

"David!" came Amy's voice, from the house he had built.

The man dropped the hoe, sighing. He really didn't like leaving things undone. But he never had been able to resist that voice.

He made his way back to the house, admiring the trees as he listened to the birdsong. This planet was almost perfect, and probably, given it's location just a dozen lightyears out from the frontier world of Orotis, would eventually start to attract settlers in 20 or 30 years. Well, 20 or 30 years was a long time, and even then it was a big planet; He and Amy would have it to themselves for a long, long time.

She leaned against one of the supports on the porch, squinting at him in the late afternoon light. He stared back at her, realizing he could never wish for a better sight.

"David, it's happened!" she said, pulling him by the arm and taking him inside to the interstellar radio. The man listened to the babble of reports. The Insects had destroyed the fleet. The Insects were taking over. The Insects were landing on habitable worlds.

The man said nothing. In another time, another place, his first impulse would be to hop into his fighter and blast off. But he had Amy, and Amy had him, and they were alone, together, and what else really mattered? He said as much.

She looked at him oddly. "Aren't you worried that they'll come here?"

"This is an empty world," he said. "And it's a big galaxy. I'm sure they'll have much better things to do with their time."

"But David, what if they come?" she said, pressing against him.

"Don't worry," the man said, wrapping his arm around her. "Probably nothing will happen, not for years."

They came almost ten weeks later. The first inkling he had of it was when he heard the roar of the Insect scoutship touching down near the house. He was hunting in the forest when he saw it, and he started back to the house on a run, his blaster drawn.

He heard the screams just as he reached the clearing, and saw Amy lifted up by the neck by one of the Insect troopers. There were four of them, and the other three quickly pointed their weapons at the man.

"Wait!' said the man, approaching slowly. "There's no need for this!"

"Surrender," said one of the Insects through its harsh translation device. Amy struggled to breath in its grasp

The man lowered but didn't drop his weapon. "We're not a threat to you."

"Drop your weapon," came the modulated voice. "Surrender."

Amy, screaming, continued to struggle, flailing her feet; and one of her random kicks caught the Insect holding by one if its legs. The Insect, perhaps annoyed, but not really hurt, twisted its grip; and there was a crack, and then Amy's lifeless body was tossed to the ground.

"NO!" the man screamed, and he fired his blaster; and even though three of the four Insects had their weapons aimed at him, and his was lowered, he managed to kill all four of them with a single shot to each of their foreheads before any could fire back.

The man ran over to Amy, and felt a long moment for a pulse. Sobbing, he cradled her head in his hands and cried hysterically.

Later, much later, the man found himself standing over a freshly dug grave; the tombstone had been carved out of rock by a blaster, and the flowers on the grave were fresh, though the man had no memory of how either got there.

He stood at that spot a long time, and as the sun sank low, he muttered, "They took the only thing that ever meant anything to me...." Then he paused, for a long time, and said, every so softly, while staring after the setting sun, "This isn't over...."

******************************************************************

War Admiral Norman North eyed the status reports. They had managed to save 64 active warships and 24 merchant/civilian vessels. The foremost and proudest of them was, of course, the Glory, his combined command carrier/battleship. Unfortunately, they didn't have any other battleships or dreadnaughts in the fleet; they had all been lost at Vitalics.

But he did have a number of smaller capital ships at his command. There was the Amory Til, a converted heavy cruiser/half carrier that was jammed packed with three squadrons (it was rated for two). There was the Blue Luna, a pocket battleship which didn't quite have the punch of a true battleship but was almost as heavily armored and shielded as one. There were eight battlecruisers in the fleet, four of them the newest Tiger-class ships.

But the bulk of the fleet were cruisers--12 light, 11 regular (7 of those being deep space cruisers), and 7 heavies. The rest of the fleet was a mix of destroyers (including seven of the newest fast attack destroyers) and frigates as well as one minesweeper/layer.

But of course, no discussion of the fleet's military assets could be complete without a discussion of starfighter support. They had a little over 250 starfighters, with eight squadrons packed on the Glory and three on the Directorate half-carrier, the Amory Til. The Blue Luna carried a full squadron, and the rest were scattered in three's and four's throughout the fleet. The Glory's squadrons were the most modern version of the Wildcats--the 145-D and 150-B's, while the Defenders were 78-J's. The rest of the fighters were of similar configuration, both from the Directorate fleet and the ones we had picked up at the Battle of Hunt's Moon, though some of the Wildcats were of the older variety, and they had also acquired a small collection of miscellaneous fighters--variants on the Lancer 4FF's, mostly.

North had positioned the fleet in a classic symmetrical double V position, with the bulk of the heavy cruisers and battlecruisers taking point in the first formation, and most of the weaker ships in the rear "V", though supported by a sprinkling of heavies, such as the Blue Luna. The Glory was positioned in the center, between the two V's, providing close support to the merchant vessels, who were also in the middle. The formation was hardly original and had its weaknesses, but for now that was the way North left it.

He had bigger matters to attend to. The mess and maze of logistics he handed off to Captain Dulin and Commander Wren and the other ship captains as much as these tasks were delegable. The civilian ships had to be converted to growing food as soon as possible. Some of the larger ships, like the Glory and the Blue Luna, had a "full/full" complement of hydroponic labs--theoretically, they could grow enough (rationed) food to support their crews indefinitely. But the battlecruisers and the smaller ships had much smaller hydroponic bays, and were on "half/full" status; they could supplement, but not fully replace food stocks. North hoped the merchant ships, once properly converted, could provide enough food to make them self-sufficient; now that they had left Alliance space, he didn't think they'd be able to resupply for some time... if ever.

Fuel they would eventually run out of, but they had begun switching over to process hydrogen, which they could skim from any nearby star. The energy burned less efficiently, but was an acceptable substitute. The fleet had a fair supply of medicine, including the anti-aging vaccine, with enough supply in stock to give boosters to the entire crew for at least the next 50 years. Then they would start aging again.

Another important issue was unit cohesion. The fleet was an mixture of League forces, which North originally commanded, and allied Directorate forces, who only recently joined forces with them. Though the two had been allied all during the long war with the Insects, North knew that there was some resistance on the Directorate side to taking orders directly from him, especially from the top, from the highest ranking surviving Directorate officer, Fleet Captain Michael Bennett, now stationed on the half-carrier Amory Til. The Directorate had their own procedures, their own chain of command, even their own uniforms (Directorate white as opposed to League blue), none of which helped to integrate the two forces.

North had almost had a knock-down fight with the man last week when he ordered him to redeploy his ships. Bennett had wanted to keep the Directorate ships together, but North wanted to deploy some of his battlecruisers to different parts of the "V" formation. It was bad enough that the man questioned his orders, but to do so in front of the other fleet Captains was inexcusable. Something would have to be done to improve unit cohesion.

Another thought on North's mind, but still not the foremost one, was the composition of the forces that pursued them. They had retreated out of Alliance escape quickly enough, which prevented the bulk of the Insect force from catching up to and destroying them; but over the past several weeks they had been harassed by small attack forces, indicating that there was still a pursuing fleet behind them.

But even the constant threat of enemy attack was not foremost in North's mind. Foremost in North's mind was the higher goal, of finding the technology that would defeat the enemy. That meant searching out the hidden technology of the Monumentals. North had risked capture and destruction of the fleet by stopping at Orotis to pick up several of the leading researchers on the Monumentals, notably Professor Stevenson, but it had been a risk worth taking. North had consulted with Stevenson frequently on where they should go to conduct their search. He had hoped that some of the artifacts that Stevenson had examined might contain clues that could help.

But Stevenson had given a bitter laugh and said to North, "War Admiral, I've been searching for Monumental artifacts my entire life. There are, or were, a lot of them out there, but it's a big galaxy, and most of those that have been found have been plundered by other races." When pressed for a direction, Stevenson had been unable to provide specific guidance. Nevertheless, he had given North one important piece of information: every Monumental artifact that had been found in Alliance space had been found on habitable worlds. And habitable worlds only orbited certain types of stars. That, at least, narrowed their field of search a little bit.

So North constantly studied Lieutenant Shishman's long range scans, looking for appropriate star types or even tentative scans of distant planets to find those which were more likely than not to be suitable. But he had to admit, even to himself, that it was like searching for a needle in a haystack, and it might takes years for them to find anything useful.

Still, they had to try. And so North constantly ordered long range Wildcat patrols to head out in pairs in every direction ahead of them to look for signs of habitable planets.

***********

"Well, this has been another swell patrol," said Command Captain Idaho Took. He checked the scanner to compute, once again, the range back to the Glory. Another routine patrol, a few planetless stars, and billions of gallons of empty space.

"Would you rather have run into an Insect patrol?" said his wingman, Lieutenant Kato Obe.

"A small one, maybe," said Took. "At least it would've given us something to do." Took certainly wasn't itching for a full-scale Insect attack, but Obe shared his frustration. It had been almost two weeks of quiet now, and it had been too quiet. Obe checked his scanner, saw three blips, heading in the same direction as they were, back to the Glory, but coming from different directions.

"Getting something on scanner," said Obe.

"Must be Marsten's patrol," said Took. He switched to general comm, "Mars, is that you?"

"That must be Took," came the voice on the other end.

"Uh, Mars, this is Obe, how many ships do you have in your patrol?" Obe asked.

"Two," came Marsten's voice. "You know that."

"Then why do I have a vector on three ships coming in from your direction?"

Took checked the scanner, saw he was right. He did a focused scan: the three ships looked like Wildcats, but only two of them were 145-D's; the third ship resembled a Wildcat, but had a different design; definitely not one of theirs.

Took set an intercept vector. "Unidentified starfighter, this is War Captain Took of the Command Carrier Glory. Identify yourself."

They got silence for a response. Took checked the scanner. The fighter had already shot past Marsten and his wingman, and now only Took and Obe stood between it and the Glory.

"Do you suppose it could be one of those Directorate guys from the Amory Til? They could be on a different frequency?" said Obe.

"Different from general broadband?" said Took. "Not likely. And take a close scan of that ship. It looks like someone took it apart and put it together with a totally different set of pieces--the thing looks like an antique that's been mish-mashed together from ten different sets of fighter parts."

"If it's such an antique, why is it almost outflying us?" said Obe.

At full speed they caught up with the ship just short of the fleet. It was as old and battered as the scan had indicated; and it was heading straight for the Glory.

Took activated his targeting scanner. "Unidentified ship, identify yourself!" He got no answer. Took let go a volley just short of the unknown fighter, who banked to the right immediately as the bolt launched, and turned around to arc towards Took. Took, tense, repeated, "This is your last warning! Identify yourself!"

Suddenly there was a scratching sound on his comm, as if a long disused circuit had been activated or repaired. "Do not fire," said a flat voice. "I am an allied force."

"Who are you?" said Took. He noticed Obe and his wingman closing. Good. Reinforcements had arrived.

There was a silence for a moment, as if the pilot didn't want to identify himself. Then, the deadly cold voice spoke, "Ken Pilot, 04."

Took looked over at Marsten, who was flying parallel to him. "Ken Pilot? THE Ken Pilot?"

"That's impossible. The Ken Pilot, that Ken Pilot, he must be dead by now," said Marsten.

Took radioed the Glory. "Glory, we've got a problem here."

Colonel Darley, the Glory's starfighter command, had been monitoring communications on the bridge, and he quickly called over Captain Dulin and explained the situation.

"A Ken Pilot?" said Dulin. "The Ken Pilot, 04?" He shook his head. "Extremely improbable."

"Should we get the War Admiral?" said Darley.

Dulin shook his head. "He's busy with Professor Stevenson. It could be a trap, or a kamikaze. Let's see what we have first." He toggled the comm. "Unidentified vessel! This is Captain Dulin of the Glory; we will send a shuttle out to meet you. Cut drive and wait for rendezvous."

"The Glory?" said the voice, as if the name meant something. "Glory, I'm coming in." The fighter accelerated.              

Dulin spoke to the fighters. "Took, Obe, stop him!"

"Stop him?" came Took's voice. "You mean, blow him up?"

"You heard me," said Dulin. "He could be a kamikaze!"

"All right," said Took, with great reluctance. What if this guy was who he said he was? Blowing up one of the greatest fighter pilots of all time wouldn't be a great way for Took to end his day. He looked at the fighter several dozen feet ahead of him, then looked down at his targeting scanners... odd, the ship didn't show up.

Took looked up again, and understood why; in the short time he had taken to check his scanners, the ship was had accelerated rapidly towards the Glory.

"Speedy little bug," Took grunted. Took and his wingmen accelerated to maximum speed. He lined up for a shot... even at this distance he should still be able to hit the fleeing fighter... he squeezed the fire button, and a ball of energy burst out... missing the aging ship.

By now Obe and Marsten and Marsten's wingman, Chang-Wha, were firing too, and they were all missing. It was very odd; just as they aimed and put the fleeing ship in their sites, it weaved, bob, or jittered to another vector. After a half minute of worthless firing, Took reported, "Sorry sir, he's out of effective range."

The fighter was by now about a full minute ahead of Took and almost at the Glory.

"Tell laser gun crews to target and open fire!" ordered Dulin.

"Sir?" said the ops officer.

"Do it!"

A hail of small caliber laser fire opened up on the old fighter from the smaller caliber artillery on the Glory, designed specifically to take out hostile fighters. But the unknown fighter turned and twisted in every direction, avoiding several trails of laser fire, still heading unstoppably into Bay Two.

Dulin sounded the alarms. The fighter wasn't decelerating. He had visions of the fighter packed with explosives, ramming into the bay. "Clear the bay!" he yelled as the klaxons blared.

At that moment War Admiral Norman North came onto the bridge. "What's going on here?"

The fighter accelerated to ramming speed... and then, at the last moment, braked furiously, and came to a perfect three point landing less than ten feet from a supporting bulkhead inside the bay.

That part of the bay, being partially evacuated, was empty when the cockpit opened and the occupant emerged....

Took and his wingmen were only a few seconds behind the intruder, and they landed their ships in near picture perfect formation next to his and took off after the pilot, who they could see running down the main corridor just outside of the bay.

"Bridge, I have him in sight, seal off sections fourteen through seventeen on Deck 24," said Took, drawing his blaster as he took off in pursuit.

Thick bulkhead doors slid into place behind and in front of the intruder farther down the hallway. Took ran down the hallways, trailed by several other pilots and security officers who had joined the fray. He waited for them to catch up. There was no need to rush any more now.

"We have him," said Took. "Ok, open bulkhead door 17-J."

He stood to one side, his weapon drawn, and the other officers positioned themselves in such a way to give themselves a clear aim from different angles. If the intruder tried to resist he would be dead very, very quickly. But this guy seemed to have very fast reflexes; could he take out Took and several others before getting shot himself?

Took tried not to think about that as the door slowly grinded open, revealing... an empty chamber.

After looking about carefully, Took entered the chamber, and then looked up, and saw the dark hole cut in the deckplate above. "Nimble fellow," Took commented. He spoke into his comm, "He got away."

"We know," came a new voice, the War Admiral's voice. "He's here with us now."

The Ken Pilot was unsurprised to see the weapons drawn and pointed at him as he entered the bridge. His own blaster, still warm, was in his hand but not raised. He looked about at all the unfamiliar faces, until he latched onto a very familiar one.

"War Admiral," he said.

North nodded slightly. "David. It's... surprising to see you here."

"Meaning what am I doing here, and now, in a very big galaxy when you're probably being hunted down by the Insects who are chasing you like mad and using every trick in the book to catch you," said the Ken Pilot. "You're suspicious and want to make sure I'm really what I seem."

North nodded. "A reasonable precaution. After all, I haven't seen you since the celebration on Eratta, after the battle of Karis."

The Ken Pilot pursed his lips. "You mean, of course, the celebration on Whenfor, after the Battle of the Doublestar."

North nodded to the Ken Pilot, and to one of his officers as well. She approached the Ken Pilot, and ran a scanner over him from a cautious distance. Without turning to face North she said, "I'm sensing a highly advanced nervous system, War Admiral. He's either a Graftonite, or something just like it."

North nodded. "Lower your weapons," and all blasters were simultaneously reholstered. At that moment Took and Marsten entered the bridge on the run. "What did I miss?" Took asked, nearly breathless.

"I stopped at one of the frontier colonies you passed by after Orotis," said the Ken Pilot, getting comfortable in North's ready room. "They said you were in the neighborhood."

"But what were you doing out here?" said North, handing him a drink.

"Seeking a life, alone."

"Alone?"

"On a frontier planet," said the Ken Pilot. "With Amy."

"Amy," said North. He started to piece things together--the Ken Pilot's tone of voice, the circumstances of his arrival. "They came for you, even there, out in the frontier."

The Ken Pilot nodded.

North didn't ask any further, but he said, "You have my condolences." He paused, considering. "You don't just want my condolences. You want to join our fight, don't you?"

The Ken Pilot nodded again.

"We're heading out of Alliance space. We're not seeking out fights."

"Fights will come to you," said the Ken Pilot.

**********

The War Admiral arranged for the Ken Pilot to have a berth with the other starfighter pilots. He was wise enough not to assign him to a specific squadron; the Ken Pilot was about as a rugged an individualist as one could get. Quite frankly, North wasn't sure how to fit him in with their forces. Solitary assignments would be best. Maybe to make him a long-range scout....?

Took and some of his buddies were getting lunch in the mess hall when they saw the Ken Pilot sitting alone, in a corner. Took motioned the others that they should join him.

"I don't know, Iday," said Marsten. "He's a stranger, and he looks like he wants to be alone."

"Nonsense," said Took, with one of his irritating smiles. "A stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet."

He approached the Ken Pilot. "Mind if we join you?"

The Ken Pilot gave no answer for a moment, and then, seeing Took wasn't going to take silence for an answer, gave a small nod.

"Good," said Took, not overanalyzing the ambiguous body language. He sat down, joined by Marsten, Obe, and two of the other pilots.

"By the way, we never got the chance to introduce ourselves when we were shooting at you," said Took. "My name is Idaho Took. This is Robert Marsten, Kato Obe, Ben Hunter..." he introduced the others.

The Ken Pilot sipped his drink.

Took, giving a small smile, said, "I didn't catch your name."

The Ken Pilot paused, considering. "David Norman."

"Some people on the bridge were calling you the Ken Pilot," said Took.

The Ken Pilot continued to sip his drink. The tension in the air was palpable.

"Are you?"

The Ken Pilot nodded. "I was a pilot on the Ken."

"But were you Ken Pilot, Ken Pilot 04?" Took persisted.

The Ken Pilot paused, as if considering the question. Then he nodded.

"Can someone enlighten me?" said Marsten. "The Ken incident was a bit before my time."

"Were you sleeping through your military history class at the academy, Mars?" said Took. "The Ken was one of those old-styled modified "quarter carriers", cruisers carrying one full squadron. They tangled with an enemy fleet around Porstan-"

"Locutus," interrupted the Ken Pilot.

"Locutus," said Took, nodding, "and ran directly into an enemy carrier, with three or four full squadrons-"

"Four," said the Ken Pilot.

"Four," said Took, looking at the Ken Pilot as he were a legend out of the pages of history. "The Ken was swamped, of course, and her fighters were quickly overwhelmed. The ship was destroyed, as were all the fighters... except one. Ken Pilot number 04. The story goes that he was outnumbered 40 to one, but managed to destroy all their fighters. When a relief task force arrived, they found his ship just sitting there, dead in space, out of fuel, surrounded by the carcasses of all those enemy fighters."

"Really?" said Obe skeptically. "You destroyed 40 fighters on your own?"

"41," said the Ken Pilot.

"41," Obe repeated. "Uh-huh."

"You know, you did some pretty fancy moves out there in that hunk of junk of yours," said Took. "No offense, but it really looks like its on its last legs."

The Ken Pilot made no comment.

"If you're going to fly with us, you should fly one of our 145-D's or 150-B's."

The Ken Pilot shook his head.

"That bucket of bolts you're flying could come apart on you at any minute."

"I can handle anything that comes my way," said the Ken Pilot.

"Yeah, you've got that look about you," said Took. He noticed the other's confidence, took it for cockiness. "So, you think you're a better pilot than us?"

"Iday-" Marsten interrupted.

"I can handle myself," said the Ken Pilot quietly.

"Do you think you could take one of us in a mock dogfight?"

The Ken Pilot nodded.

"Would you like to test that theory out?"

The Ken Pilot shrugged, as if he didn't care.

"Afraid?" said Took.

The Ken Pilot gave Took a cold, long look for a moment. Then he said, "All right."

"Who do you want to fly against?" Took asked, hoping it would be him. "Me? Obe? Mars?-"

"All of you," said the Ken Pilot.

"All of us?" said Took. "All right, we'll do a series of one-on-one battles-"

"No," said the Ken Pilot. "All of you." He got up. "Meet me in landing bay in 20 minutes." He walked away.

"You think he's trying to prove something?" said Obe.

"You think those stories of him taking out 40 fighters singlehandedly are really true?" said Marsten.

"I think we're about to find out," said Took.

When they arrived at the landing bay they had their first chance to take a good look at the Ken Pilot's ship. It was old, that much was clear, and it was made of all different pieces, of all different sizes, shapes and colors. It was as if someone had gone to a ship wrecking yard and collected pieces from a dozen different ships and then glued them together. How the different pieces were made to be compatible with each other was a mystery; how it flew at all, much less so well, was an even greater puzzle. In addition to forward weaponry, it also had a small rear turret mounted into the high fin.

"That looks like something out of a museum," said Obe, none too tactfully. "What is the hull based on?" He peered at it closely. "It's a Wildcat 50 hull, right?"

"A Wildcat 5 hull, actually," said the Ken Pilot, climbing into the cockpit. He eyed the arriving pilots who were streaming into the launch bay behind Took and Obey. "Standard simulation protocol 1.2?"

"We use 8.0 now," said Obe.

"But we're downwards compatible," said Took hastily. "It will be no problem." He eyed the other pilots. "Are you sure you want to take us ALL on at the same time?"

The Ken Pilot just looked at him for a second, giving a slight shrugging gesture, as he sealed his cockpit and started his preflight.

"This is going to be one for the history books," said Took.

****************

Took dogged the seal on his cockpit. His entire squadron was getting ready to launch. Elements of Obe's and several other squadrons were going to their ships too, if not to fight, then at least to watch. Took wondered what Colonel Darley would think of this massive mobilization. Well, they could chalk it up to a training exercise.

"Remember," said Took over the comm, "No matter how cocky this guy is, there's only one of him but ten or fifteen of us. If we keep on him together, he might get one or two of us at best."

He thumbed the launch button and a fraction of a second later so did the rest of his squadron, as well as Obe and two of his wingmen.

Almost the instant his squadron launched and cleared the hull, Took noticed a flash of light to his right and some yells on the comm. He quickly glanced at the SSP indicator and saw that three of his ships had been hit and already taken out of action, slowing to a halt, dead in space.

"What's going on?" Took said, seeing a battered Wildcat 5 suddenly come roaring ahead of his squadron. The Ken Pilot must have been waiting for them, just outside the launchbay, and shot several of their ships right as they launched. "An ambush right outside of launch? That's not fair!"

The cold reply came immediately. "When the Insects start obeying rules of combat etiquette, let me know so I can too." And then, after a pause, "What's the matter, are only twelve of you insufficient to take on one fighter?"

"Let's get him," said Obe.

"He's on my tail!" cried one of Obe's wingmen.

"Good," said Obe, getting behind the Ken Pilot. "Keep him occupied for just a few seconds...."

He concentrated on his targeting scanner as the Ken Pilot's ship seemed to weave and bob all over the place. The old W-5 seemed twice as maneuverable as Obe's 150-B. Or was it just the pilot.

There was a flash of light ahead of him and then "He got me!" Obe heard his wingman cry as the SSP, sensing the low-power laser hit, shut down the ship's systems. But at that same moment Obe saw the Ken Pilot's ship line up in his sights. He moved to squeeze the trigger... and then there was a flash that blinded him, as the Ken Pilot's rear turret blasted his cockpit. The blast was only at.1% strength, but the power of the light was enough blind Obe for a few seconds. When his vision cleared, his ship was dead in space.

The Ken Pilot continued to zoom this way and that, effortlessly picking off squadron members while equally effortlessly avoiding the gunsights of his hunters. The Ken Pilot seemed to be able to vector right behind an enemy fighter and squeeze of a shot in a split second--without any need to adjust his heading or to aim more carefully. He seemed oblivious to fighters getting in behind him, only paying attention when opponents almost had him lined up in their gunsights. How he knew when that moment occurred, and how he was able to pay attention both in front and in back of him at the same time, was a complete mystery.

Took kept trying to take aim at the bobbing and weaving ship, every few seconds punctuated by a flash of light and a cry over the comm. He was about to take aim again when the Ken Pilot flew out of view again, to line up against another target.

Took checked the SSP. There were only three pilots left, him and two wingmen. The Ken Pilot had demolished an entire squadron in seconds. "We need help," Took muttered.

"You got it," said Marsten's voice, taking it as an invitation.

Took had been so focused on the battle that he had paid scant attention to what was happening in the background. As word had spread of the battle, more and more pilots had come out to take a look.

Now Took's squadron was joined by more of Obe's pilots, and Marsten's, and Hunter's, and Sirra's, and several others, all of whom joined in the attack on the Ken Pilot.

This increased level of activity didn't escape notice on the Glory's bridge. "Sir, scanners show nearly five full squadrons have launched, and more fighters are joining them," said Lieutenant Shishman.

"What's going on here?" said Colonel Darley. Were they under attack? "Any enemy on the scopes?" Although he was under the command of Captain Dulin, and above him, War Admiral North, the starfighters were his direct responsibility. Captain Dulin wandered over and looked at the scanners over his shoulder, an expression of restrained curiosity on his face.

"No signs of enemy fighters," said Shishman. "Captain Took logged in a routine training exercise a few minutes ago."

"With five squadrons? That's no exercise, that's full scale wargames," said Darley, checking the scanners himself. He toggled the comm. "Took! What's going on out there!"

Darley heard laser fire in the background.

"... I'm kind of busy right now, Colonel," said Took.

"Sir, I've analyzed the battle," said Shishman. "All the squadrons are fighting one fighter, one person."

'Five squadrons against one person?"

"Six now, sir."

Captain Dulin turned to Darley, "That's bound to burn up a great amount of fuel. Colonel, did you authorize-"

"No," said Darley. "Took, report!"

But Took was too busy trying to line up the Ken Pilot in his sights. The laser fire aimed at the Ken Pilot was so thick now that collectively it looked like large ship-board turret laser fire.

But still the Ken Pilot kept dodging this way and that; by the SSP's count, he had now disabled 27 ships. But the pilots, frustrated at being taken out of play, reset their SSP's and reactivated their ship, so they only stayed "shot" for a few seconds.

By the time Darley reasserted control and ordered them back to the ship, the Ken Pilot had shot down 39 distinct ships, and seven pilots had the distinction of being destroyed twice by him. And his ship hadn't been shot even once.

Now no one doubted that the Ken Pilot had destroyed 41 enemy ships.

There was a sullen and awed silence when they landed in the bay. They simply formed a circle around the Ken Pilot and stared at him as he got out his ship.

It was Took who spoke first. "39 ships. Not bad," he said.

"I could have proven I could destroy 41 in a single outing if we had had a few more seconds," said the Ken Pilot. It was the wrong thing to say, rubbing salt into their wounded pride, but at that moment Colonel Darley appeared, looking enraged.

"You, you, you and you, to the commander's office."

Took was the second "you".

*********

After Captain Dulin had finished chewing them out for wasting fuel and not following procedure, they were dismissed.

"I guess we took it a little too far," Obe muttered. "How did we let it get out of hand?"

"I was too busy going too far," said Took, shrugging. "If you ask me, pal, I wouldn't be worrying the most about this little incident, but about what it shows."

"What do you mean?"

"This guy just proved that he can outfly any of us," said Took. "Guess which one of us he's going to replace?"

"Not Colonel Darley," said Obe, considering.

"No, Colonel Darley doesn't fly Wildcats anymore. They wouldn't put him in a position that didn't utilize his primary skill. Guess again."

"Wildcat pilot," said Obe.

"Getting warmer," said Took.

"Wildcat squadron leader."

"Warmer," said Took.

"Leader of Wildcat "A"?"

Took put his finger to his nose. As everyone knew, the squad leader of the "A" squadron, on any ship, was the most senior and experienced combat officer. And that position was currently held by Command Captain Took.

The same Command Captain Took who, an hour ago, couldn't manage to destroy a single pilot with the assistance of 50 other pilots.

Things were quiet for the next several days; the other pilots kept a respectful distance from the Ken Pilot. But Took, whose job was most threatened by him, took a healthy interest in the silent fighter pilot. He tried to engage him in conversation, but the Ken Pilot was almost always noncommittal, or responded in single syllables.

Things came to a head a few days later when they were out on patrol. Although the Ken Pilot, or K, as they had taken to calling him, wasn't attached to any particular squadron, Colonel Darley had "suggested" that the Ken Pilot accompany Wildcat A on its missions. This had caused Took's blood to boil, but all he could do was nod and pretended like he didn't care. It was obvious, now, whose job this man was being groomed for.

Regular starfighter patrols screened the fleet, both in front, behind, above, below, to port, and to starboard.

Took, Obe, and the K Pilot took the starboard patrol; elements of Marsten's Wildcat B's and Hunter's Wildcat C's took the rest. Took's patrol took them past the merchant ships in the center of their formation off to the side of the fleet guarded by the Directorate ships, mostly the battlecruisers.

"K, would you care to suggest an exit vector?" Took said.

There was no response.

"K?" said Took. "Obe, are you there?"

"I'm here," said Obe.

"Good," said Took, glancing at the Ken Pilot's starfighter to his right. "Just wanted to be sure my comm was working."

About an hour into their patrol they detected blips on sensors. Fighters. A dozen of them. Medium range sensors said they were Insect type "G" fighters.

"Heads up, everyone," said Took. He contacted the other patrol leaders on global flightcom. "There's too many of them. Let's regroup and form up on the edge of the fleet, where we'll have equivalent numbers--K, what are you doing?"

The Ken Pilot's ship had suddenly accelerated forwards, towards the enemy fighters.

"Fighting the enemy," came the Ken Pilot's flat response.

"K, there are a dozen of them, and only three of us," said Took.

"What's your point?" asked the Ken Pilot.

"Standard procedure dictates that unless they contain a bomber force, that we're to retreat and regroup to a point where we can confront them with more even numbers. It will take just a few minutes to regroup with the rest-"

"There's only twelve of them," said the Ken Pilot. "10, if you don't count the two bombers."

"What bombers?" said Took, checking the scanners again. He didn't see any bombers.

"Check the two fighters in the gamma part of their formation," said the Ken Pilot.

Took looked at them on the scanner. He didn't notice anything.

By now the Ken Pilot had streaked ahead of them.

"What's the call, Iday?" said Obe. "Do we go forward, or go back and rendezvous with the other fighters?"

Took muttered silently for a moment. Maybe the Ken Pilot could handle them as easily as he had the Glory's fighters in the battle game... and maybe he couldn't. This was for real, and they couldn't afford to take chances. Took hit his thrusters, and Obe followed an instant later.

"Took, what's going on?" said Darley's voice over the comm. "Why aren't you linking up with the other fighters?"

"Our buddy the Ken Pilot decided he didn't want to wait," said Took. The Ken Pilot, about a minute ahead of him, was already thick in combat. The Insect G's were swirling around like angry gnats, trying to get a lock on him. But the Ken Pilot was seemingly oblivious to pursuit as he took out one, then two, then a third fighter. The third fighter, one of those in the gamma positions hadn't been attempting to engage the Ken Pilot, and the resulting fireball when it erupted was several times larger than that of the other ships.

Now at close range, Took chanced a short range scan of the other gamma positioned fighter. It was packed with high explosives.

The Ken Pilot took out two more fighters before Took and Obe arrived. Obe took out one immediately, but then got two fighters on his tail which he tried to shake loose. Took got into a dogfight with two other fighters, and the rest went after the Ken Pilot.

"I'm having trouble shaking them," said Obe, watching the explosions around them.

"Hang on, I'll be there in a minute," said Took, lining up a shot. He fired the instant the target was in his crosshairs, and it exploded in a fireball. Ignoring for the moment the other fighter following him, he turned and vectored towards Obe.

"Hurry!" said Obe, trying to do a tight turn but only succeeding in showing more of his flank to his pursuers.

There was a blast from above and the Ken Pilot fired twice, destroying both pursuers. Even as the second bolt left his ship, the Ken Pilot launched another bolt from his rear turret, destroying a third enemy simultaneously.

Took destroyed another ship, and the Ken Pilot took out the last ship, the other gamma; it exploded in a brilliant fireball.

"Thanks," said Obe.

Elements of the forward and rear Wildcat patrol started to arrive.

"Where's all the action?" said Ben Hunter of Wildcat "C".

"Sorry guys, false alarm," said Took over fleet comm. He switched to ship to ship. "K, how did you know those ships contained high explosives? You weren't close enough for a close scan when you first gave chase."

"They were in the wrong position, moving in the wrong way," said the Ken Pilot. And that's as specific as he would get on the subject.

Word of the Ken Pilot's latest achievement spread quickly though the fighter pilot ranks. K seemed totally uninterested in discussing what had happened or taking credit for it, but would answer questions when asked.

Sitting in the recreation hall, Took muttered, "I wonder if I should just save time and offer him my ship now."

"I don't think he wants your ship," said Obe. "I think he likes his own."

"That battered old thing?"

"That battered old thing has a rear turret we don't," said Obe.

Took opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Make that item number one hundred and fifty five that I don't understand about this guy. How does he fire BEHIND him? Even if he had a targeting display for the rear quarter, we've seen him fire both forward and backwards simultaneously. No one can concentrate on two firing displays at the same time, I don't care how fast he is."

"He is fast," said Obe.

"Yeah," said Took. "Do you think I can find an opening to be a Defender "G" pilot?"

The Defenders were the most heavily armored fighters in the Glory's arsenal. But they were looked down upon because they were relatively slow and not very agile; they tended to be used for bomber duty.

"Maybe the War Admiral will give him a squadron on another ship," said Obe.

"Not a chance," said Took. "He's the best, and Wildcat "A" is the best in the fleet. Remember last week when I was the best pilot, Obe?"

"No," said Obe.

The attacks started to come more frequently, once every few days, then once every other day, and then, almost every day. Always it was a handful of fighters, or a scout vessel or two, but now they didn't usually stay long enough to engage in combat, or not for very long, quickly retreating the way they came. After each attack the fleet would reconfigure slightly, to move more and move of its combat vessels to the rear, where the attacks were originating from.

The War Admiral convened a conference in his office with Captain Dulin, Commander Wren, Colonel Darley, Fleet Captain Michael Bennett, and several other fleet officers. All were present in person; the War Admiral had no objections to holomeetings, but didn't want to take any chance of having the transmission intercepted.

Captain Dulin led off. "You're all aware of the situation. We obviously have an Insect fleet following us."

"Of course," said Bennett, flicking his dark eyes towards the War Admiral, who sat silently at the head of the long table. Why wasn't he leading the meeting? "What I want to know is why we aren't taking the fight to them."

"We don't know their location," said Dulin.

"They're to our rear," said Bennett.

"We don't know their exact location," Dulin added.

"We can send out some scouts," said Bennett. "I think we should locate them and destroy them."

"And what if they have an overwhelming force?" Dulin said.

"Let's at least find out what they have," said Bennett.

"No."

Everyone turned their heads.

"We will not tip our hand," said War Admiral Norman North.

Tip our hand, Bennett wondered. "Sir, respectfully, how does sending out scouts to learn the enemy's strength tip our hand? If anything, haven't we been tipping our hand by letting the enemy make repeated contacts with us? I'm sure they've reported back the exact disposition and layout of our fleet by now. I know you've been moving some ships around after every battle, but the next scouting force they send simply learns your new deployment."

"Precisely," said North. "And I won't have our hand tipped by sending a scouting force to find out the nature of the enemy following us. Any information we obtain on the size and nature of their fleet would not be of any use. "

"But sir..."

"Don't you think it's curious that they've launched all these probing attacks when they could have launched a real attack several times over?" said North. "One of their goals is to provoke us into attacking them, to provoke us into launching the faster part of our fleet to the rear to strike at them."

"And you think that's a trap," said Bennett.

"I know it is," said the War Admiral firmly. "But that's only one purpose of these scouting attacks. They already know the size and disposition of our fleet. Part of what they're doing, I'm convinced, is studying our reaction time and methods, and encouraging us to deploy stronger forces to the rear part of our fleet."

"Which you've been doing."

"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Have a look at our current course." He touched a button, and a holographic display came to life in the center of the table. "Note this uncharted solar system we'll be cruising through tomorrow. Note the large gas giant, 40 million miles out from the sun."

"What about it?"

"That's where their fleet is; that's where it will be waiting for us," said North. "When the front and now lightly defended part of our fleet gets within striking distance, they'll strike. The bulk of their fleet, gentlemen, has circled around us over the past two weeks. They've tried to provoke us to attack their distraction force from behind, leaving our front flank open; when that failed, they decided to try and weaken our frontal defenses as much as possible for their surprise attack."

"An interesting theory," said Bennett. "Do you have any evidence to support any of this? Sensor logs from scouts?"

"No," said the War Admiral. "Sending out scouts too far, before we're ready to act, would tip our hand. Normally, I would be the first to gather intel, in a situation where I wasn't sure. But here, I'm certain."

"Assuming your analysis is correct, what do you propose, War Admiral?" said Dulin.

"I propose we send out a scouting force," said the War Admiral.

"I thought you just said you didn't want to do that," said Bennett.

"I said I didn't want to before we were ready," said the War Admiral. "If we simply sent a scouting force, and located them, they would subsequently retreat, or move to attack our main fleet. But if the scouting force is the attack force, then we don't give them the chance to retreat or move away." He touched a button. The image of four fighters and a small cargo transport appeared on the projection.

"You're going to attack with four fighters and a transport?" Bennett said.

"Yes," said the War Admiral. "Anything larger may provoke an immediate attack. My guess is that their fleet is hiding just in-atmosphere of the gas giant, far enough in so that they're not detected, but close enough to the edge so at least some of their ships can detect incoming ships. If they see a large task force coming towards them, they may emerge and attack, or emerge and retreat. And we want them to stay exactly where they are." He pressed another button, and a chemical analysis of the gas giant appeared by the image of the planet. "Notice all the hydrogen? I propose to load the shuttle with enough of the right elements to make it a catalyst. When detonated, it will ignite a sizable chunk of the atmosphere."

"And it's crew?"

"The crew of the transport is no problem," said the War Admiral. "It can be piloted remotely by one of the fighters. The most dangerous job will be those of the Wildcat pilots. It will be their responsibility to locate the enemy fleet and maneuver the transport into position to detonate. If they detonate too far from the Insect fleet, the enemy will have time to escape. If they detonate in a portion of the atmosphere that doesn't have a high enough concentration of hydrogen, the detonation may not produce a sufficient chain reaction to destroy the enemy fleet."

"So our pilots have to move it into position and get out before they trigger the detonation," said Wren.

"Yes." The War Admiral paused. "It's also very possible that they will be spotted, and attacked by the Insects. If the transport is prematurely detonated, the reaction will be triggered instantly. The transport will have to be defended as well"

"Will our pilots be able to do that? Will they also be quick enough to get in and get out safely?" This was from Captain Harkness, of the Blue Luna, the fleet's pocket battleship.

"If we use our best pilots," said the War Admiral softly.

"That's the mission, gentlemen," said War Admiral North, facing the Ken Pilot, Took, Captain Robert Marsten of Wildcat "B", and Captain Ben Hunter of Wildcat "C". "You're not only our best pilots but most of you are also squadron leaders. But this mission is vital to the survival of our fleet. You'll be risking your lives to save thousands in the fleet. Nevertheless, this is undoubtedly the most dangerous mission I've ever sent you on. Because of the unusual circumstances, if you want to refuse this mission, I will give you that opportunity."

Took felt an overwhelming urge to speak up, but he looked at the others and said nothing. The War Admiral hadn't asked for volunteers, he had picked them. He was offering a shameful way out, but in many ways, it was easier to just go on the mission. Which the War Admiral well knew.

"Uh, sir," said Marsten. "Who is in overall command of this mission?" It was unusual to have several squadron commanders involved in one discrete mission; usually, in such a situation, the commander of the most senior squadron took charge.

"David Norman will be in charge," said the War Admiral, referring to the Ken Pilot. His eyes flickered around at the other pilots, taking in their reaction, but stopping at Took longer than anywhere else. "He has more battle experience than all of us, and you have all seen his incredible reflexes in action. I realize this is unusual; David isn't even formally in our chain of command. But after this mission is over, all will become clear. Any other questions? Dismissed. Oh, David, would you please stay a moment?"

Took felt an enormous weight on his shoulders as he left the briefing. Not only had he been pressed into risking his life on a suicide mission, but if he somehow managed to survive it, it was clear that he was going to face certain demotion.

The mission was rated top-secret, need-to-know only, so when Took left the briefing he immediately went and told Obe all about it.

"... so if I do really well, and somehow survive this one-way mission, I can return to a main corridor parade and a birth as a junior lieutenant in "G" squadron," said Took.

"You don't know that," said Obe. "Anything can happen. What happens if you come back but K doesn't?"

Took shook his head. "No one can touch him. He could go out for a cup of gauche and leave his ship on autopilot and no laser bolt would come near him. Ahhhh...." He sighed.

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about more immediate and permanent matters, like being vaporized by the Insects or blown up by our own transport, then your position in the squadron when you return?" Obe asked.

"At least dying is quick, buddy," said Took.

The appointed time came; they entered their cockpits and started the preflight. "Remember," came Dulin's voice in their ears. "You only have eight hours to get their and detonate. At that point they'll pick up the fleet on their scanners and attack."

"Understood," came the Ken Pilot's emotionless voice.

"Any last minute instructions?" Took asked their new mission leader.

"No," said the Ken Pilot mechanically.

"This is going to be one for the history holos," Took sighed.

"Cut unnecessary chatter," said the Ken Pilot. "Launching."

His battered Wildcat 5 launched, followed by Marsten, Hunter, and Took, and the transport. The Ken Pilot was controlling the transport by remote. Took didn't think about, or even care, how the Ken Pilot was controlling two ships at once.

They flew in silence towards the solar system, the Ken Pilot taking point, followed by the other fighters, who bracketed the transport in the middle.

"Switch to comm scrambler four. Stay alert," said the Ken Pilot, shortly after they launched.

Then they heard not a word from him for nearly seven hours. The gas giant was looming ahead in the sky, and Took's hand was tentatively drifting towards doing a close scan, when his comm came to life.

"No close scans. Get ready to follow me in," came the flat voice. Took, startled, looked to the right, and saw the Ken Pilot casting a glance over at him.

Their flight path carried them near the gravity well of the gas giant, as if they merely intended to cruise past it. But at their closest point the Ken Pilot and the transport suddenly veered off and headed into the atmosphere.

In seconds they were at the outer layer of the atmosphere.

"We must stay alive long enough to locate their fleet before detonating," the Ken Pilot reminded them.

"And maybe, if we plan it just right, we can live a few minutes after the explosion too," Took muttered.

The Ken Pilot ordered them to activate their short range scanners. The atmosphere obscured sensor efficiency beyond a certain distance, so long range sensors were useless....

The Command Carrier Glory and the rest of the fleet entered the solar system.

"Sir! I detect enemy squadrons to our rear!" said Lieutenant Shishman.

"How many?" said the War Admiral.

"At least four full squadrons," said Shishman. This was no scouting probe.

"Launch fighters to intercept," said the War Admiral curtly.

"More ships coming into sensor range," said Shishman. "Two... three heavy cruisers, four destroyers, one carrier...."

Dulin bit his lip, wondering, for once, if the War Admiral had made a mistake.

But the War Admiral got a gleam in his eye and said, very softly, "Only one carrier...."

"I don't see anything," said Took, trying to peer through the swirling mists around him. Sometimes it cleared up so he could see as much as a few hundred feet ahead of him; but much of the time, he had to rely on sensors. Which were currently showing nothing.

"Course reset," said the Ken Pilot. He had them change course several times, only instead of doing a standard expanding circular search pattern, what he was having them do was more of an elliptical pattern. Took wondered if the Ken Pilot knew what he was doing.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. A series of blips showed up on his scanner. He tried to get a glimpse through the gas but the clouds were too thick. Then he got closer, and the gas temporarily cleared, and he saw them--Insect cruisers, frigates, destroyers, and more, as far as the eye could see.

Suddenly a furious squadron of Insect fighters streaked towards them.

"Uh, guys..." said Took.

"Guard the transport," said the Ken Pilot, racing out to engage the fighters

Thus began one of the wildest dogfights of Took's life; only half of it was fought visually; because of all the clouds, he had to fire, and fight, through his instrumentation rather than visual sightings much of the time.

Marsten, Hunter, and Took fought like madmen as they escorted the slower moving transport into the mass of Insect ships.

"We should get ready to detonate," said Took, taking out an Insect fighter a split second seconds before it lined up the transport in its sights.

"Closer," said the Ken Pilot.

Supporting fire was starting to lance out of one of the bigger Insect capital ships, nearly sheering the tip of Took's right wing.

"I think we are closer," said Took.

"We haven't located the carriers," said the Ken Pilot. He speeded ahead, into the body of the fleet, desperately searching out his goal.

Another squadron of Insect ships closed on them, and Took could see more were coming. And the capital ships were slowly starting to rise out of the atmosphere. They were running out of time!

"We should detonate now!' said Took. "At least we'll take some capital ships with us!"

"Got it!" said the Ken Pilot, with a rare display of emotion, as he spotted the carriers. There were three in all, surrounded by a phalanx of battlecruisers and battleships. "They're all here. Get to a safe distance and I will-"

And then at that moment several things happened at once A bunch of Insect fighters lined up for a targeting run on the transport. Took shouted a warning, and they were forced to break off their own dogfights to take out these new attackers. Took destroyed two of them in rapid succession; Hunter got one; and Marsten got another, but just as he fired, an Insect fighter he had been too distracted to notice got a clear shot at him, instantly destroying his fighter.              

Took yelled but had no time to be distracted. There were fighters behind him firing laser volleys and there were still two more fighters bearing down on the transport. He got one, and was zooming in on the second when it opened fire, hitting the transport.

There was a spark, and a small flame, and part of the engine section went dark. At that same instant Took's ship was hit, he felt a jolt, and the ship went spinning.

The Insect who had attacked the transport realigned itself to make another pass. Took wasn't going to be able to regain control in time, and Hunter was caught in his own dogfight, and then-

The Ken Pilot came out of nowhere, and destroyed the Insect fighter! Seconds later, he polished off Took's and Hunter's immediate attackers as well.

"Get out of here, now," said the Ken Pilot.

"Can you control the transport?"

The transport was starting to sink deeper into the atmosphere. Suddenly, part of its engine section ignited again, and its descent slowed.

"Get out if you want to live," said the Ken Pilot. They all knew the transport could blow at any minute, and a laser detonation would surely incinerate anyone in the area.

In a split second Took noticed the fresh approaching squadrons, and the capital ships leaving the atmosphere, and knew there was no more time. He set a new vector and aimed at full speed, not even spending a split second to wonder whether his engines were still working or not; Hunter was already heading up into the atmosphere. Uncharacteristically, Took didn't say a parting word.

The Ken Pilot took a full second to take in the situation himself; the rising capital ship, the sputtering transport, the new wave of approaching fighters, and the concentration of hydrogen in this part of the atmosphere. His hands gripped his laser controls tightly. It would be so easy... one small squeeze.

In that split second he made a decision, activated a weapon toggle, and hit the fire button. Then he turned and headed out-atmosphere.

Ten second later there was an enormous fireball astern.

The light was so blinding that it hurt Took's eyes even though he was faced away from it. He felt the sheer heat building up as he cleared the atmosphere. His rear sensors caught what was happening; the slow, floating dark objects, now no longer obscured by the rapidly incinerating atmosphere, bursting into pieces as they were engulfed in flames. Those little objects were cruisers, and battleships, and carriers, containing thousands of hostiles.

Took formed up on Hunter's wing; he had some battle damage too.

"You look like a mess," he said, wrinkling his face.

"Better messy than dead," said Took. He checked the rear scanner. No sign of pursuit. Destruction had been total.

"He gave his life for us," said Hunter.

"They both did," said Took, thinking of Marsten.

"He really was a living legend," said Hunter.

"He really was," said Took. He grimaced as he remembered Obe joking with him about the possibility of his being more likely to survive than the Ken Pilot. Just what had War Admiral North said to the Ken Pilot, after the briefing?

Took extended comm range and tried to reach the Glory. He was surprised to get War Admiral North directly. "Mission accomplished, sir."

"So I surmised," said North.

Was there anything this guy didn't already know?

"The diversionary force which engaged us quickly turned to retreat when they saw that reinforcements weren't forthcoming," said North. "This time we weren't in such a charitable mood to let them retreat. We destroyed their entire force, and are just mopping up operations now. What is your status?"

"Ah, Took..." said Hunter softly.

"Just a moment, Sarah," said Took. He cleared his throat. "We lost the Ken Pilot and Marsten. They both died to save the mission." A pause. "As far as I can tell, we wiped out several carriers, a couple of battleships and battlecruisers, and a lot of cruisers and destroyers," said Took.

"Actually, four battleships, seven battlecruisers, and 49 cruisers and support craft," said North.

"Took..." said Hunter.

"How can you possibly know that?" Took fairly shouted. The strain of the day had been too much.

"I received a burst transmission from Mr. Norman several minutes ago," said the War Admiral. He smiled. "I'm not omniscient. I just have very good people working for me."

Took managed to pry an eye off his screen to check his rear scanner. Sure enough, a battered W-5 was rapidly closing in on them.

There was a crowd cheering for them when they landed in the Glory. The flight crew, the other pilots who had already returned, the support staff, everyone seemed to know about it now. Even the normally emotionless Ken Pilot was startled to see complete strangers hugging him.

Shortly before the awards ceremony, held later that day, the War Admiral met with the pilots to congratulate them personally.

"... so I detonated the transport with a missile, giving me the seconds I needed to escape," said the Ken Pilot tonelessly. He told it matter of factly, as if he were describing how he got out of bed or refiltered his clothes.

"Good work," said the War Admiral, and he stared into the Ken Pilot's eyes, and something extra passed between them that Took didn't fully catch. "You all did exceptional work. I confess that your chances for survival on this mission were slim. But you have individually destroyed more Insect ships than any officer or soldier in this fleet, and I'm very, very proud of you." He cleared his throat. "You probably want to go and get washed up now, before the awards ceremony and the service for Captain Marsten and the others we lost during the battle". Three other pilots and several crewmen had been lost in the battle with the Insect diversionary force.

Hunter, Took, and the Ken Pilot started to file out, but the War Admiral put a restraining hand on Took's arm. "Captain Took, would you stay a moment please?"

Here it comes, Took thought.

"I've been giving some thought to how the Ken Pilot is to fit in with our table of organization," said the War Admiral.

In an instant, like a thunderbolt, it was all clear. The Ken Pilot would get his squadron, Wildcat "A", and he would be put in charge of Wildcat "B", Marsten's squadron. A step down, but not quite the demotion that he had expected.

"As you know Wildcat "B" is going to be in need of a squadron leader," said the War Admiral, "and I was wondering how you would feel about a transfer from Wildcat "A"-"

"All right Admiral!" Took blurted out. "You can demote me. It's obvious he's a better pilot then I'll ever be."

War Admiral Norman North showed a quizzical look on his face. "You think..." He took it in in an instance. "You think I was going to transfer you to Wildcat "B"? No, Wildcat "A" is where you belong. I was going to shift Kelly from Wildcat "A" to deputy squadron leader of Wildcat "F" so Calate could take "F" and all the squadron leaders could move up one letter. Hunter would move from C to B and so on down the line," said the War Admiral. He gave Took a funny grin. "Did you really think we were about to demote you?"

Took ignored the question/jab. "What about the Ken Pilot?"

"David-" The War Admiral was funny about the familiar use of the first name "-is an excellent pilot. But he's not cut out to be a squadron leader. He's too much of an individualist. I'm keeping him active for special missions. In the meantime, with Kelly being taken out of "A", I was thinking of giving David his berth, permanently. Do you think you can handle him?"

Took was astounded at the turn of events. "Does he really want to serve under me?"

"He spoke quite highly of you," said the War Admiral.

"He did?"

"Yes," said North. "He said you were, let me get the exact phraseology he used, an "irritating but competent pilot." He stared North straight in the eye. "That's high praise, coming from the Ken Pilot."

"Which part is considered high praise, that I'm the irritating or competent?" said Took.

The War Admiral escorted him to the door but gave no further answer.