assume?”
“Who
I am is hardly your concern. I want to know who the stars you think you are.”
The lack of noise from the flight deck finally started to seep through to the commander’s
awareness and he realized everyone was staring at him.
The
pilot gave him a thin smile; the smile didn’t touch his grey-blue eyes.
“Crineal, General.”
Del’Tarim
stared down at the figure in front of him, sure he couldn’t have heard right
despite the fact that the sick feeling that had appeared in his stomach was
telling him otherwise.
“Well,
Commander?” the little man raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.
Del’Tarim
pulled himself to attention and raised his hand to his temple in salute. “Commander
Del’Tarim, Sir, commanding officer of Alpha Flight Bays.”
Crineal
just stood there for a few seconds looking up at the idiot who was preventing
him from checking on his people. Then he very slowly and lazily returned the commander’s
salute. He could see the sweat break out on the man’s brow. “I believe you
wanted to talk to me, Commander?” Crineal asked in a deadly smooth voice.
Del’Tarim
fought to gather himself for a second and then remembered he was still in the
right. Even if he was a general, he still should have completed the post-flight
checks before leaving the cockpit. He noticed three more black clad pilots, two
women and a man, now crossing the flight deck to take up positions behind the
general, helmets tucked under their arms. “General Crineal, Sir.” He was sure
the name was familiar but couldn’t think why it should be so. He certainly
wasn’t a noble and therefore couldn’t be that important. “You left your fighter
without completing your post-flight checks. This is a violation of flight deck
procedures,” his voice gained confidence as he spoke.
Crineal
stared at him some more before replying, “Is that so?” Del’Tarim noticed that
the expressions on the faces of the pilots behind Crineal had changed from
anger to cold amusement.
“Well,
Commander, I bow to your knowledge of flight deck procedure,” Crineal said
softly. “I would suggest, however, that you might like to read the local
emergency flight regulations. Once you’ve done that, you can report to my
office at oh eight hundred hours tomorrow.” Crineal turned back to the bay
doors and looked at the guards flanking them. “Gentlemen, if the commander here
tries to prevent me from leaving again, you are to shoot him immediately.”
The
guards snapped off salutes. “Yes, Sir, General,” and they brought their pulse
rifles to a ready position.
The
commander was now sweating heavily. As he stood to attention and watched the
little general leave, flanked by the other three pilots, he willed himself to
believe that the guards wouldn’t really shoot him; but, when he looked at them
both, deep down he knew they would. As the bay doors closed behind the four pilots
he became aware of the silence in the bay and he glared around. The bay techs
sprang back to life at their assigned tasks. Del’Tarim looked at them, daring
anyone to meet his gaze before finally turning and making his way out of Bay
Alpha Ten. He was sure he could hear laughter as the door slid shut behind him.
Crineal
strode heavily down the corridor towards the medical section. Everyone moved
out of his way when they saw him coming and the look on his face. Beside him
Lieutenant Perl spoke up.
“Sir?
Would you like me to get Staller and Muscovy and throw the commander out of an
airlock?”
The
blonde-haired 1 st Lieutenant Saphya elbowed Perl in the ribs. “This
isn’t a joking matter, Lieutenant.”
“I
wasn’t joking, Ma’am.”
“Thank
you for the offer, Lieutenant,” Crineal said grimly. “I’ll take a rain check on
that for the moment.”
The
three lieutenants looked at each other as they followed in the general’s wake,
each trying to figure out if he was kidding with them or not. It took them five
more minutes to reach medical
“Who
I am is hardly your concern. I want to know who the stars you think you are.”
The lack of noise from the flight deck finally started to seep through to the commander’s
awareness and he realized everyone was staring at him.
The
pilot gave him a thin smile; the smile didn’t touch his grey-blue eyes.
“Crineal, General.”
Del’Tarim
stared down at the figure in front of him, sure he couldn’t have heard right
despite the fact that the sick feeling that had appeared in his stomach was
telling him otherwise.
“Well,
Commander?” the little man raised an eyebrow at him quizzically.
Del’Tarim
pulled himself to attention and raised his hand to his temple in salute. “Commander
Del’Tarim, Sir, commanding officer of Alpha Flight Bays.”
Crineal
just stood there for a few seconds looking up at the idiot who was preventing
him from checking on his people. Then he very slowly and lazily returned the commander’s
salute. He could see the sweat break out on the man’s brow. “I believe you
wanted to talk to me, Commander?” Crineal asked in a deadly smooth voice.
Del’Tarim
fought to gather himself for a second and then remembered he was still in the
right. Even if he was a general, he still should have completed the post-flight
checks before leaving the cockpit. He noticed three more black clad pilots, two
women and a man, now crossing the flight deck to take up positions behind the
general, helmets tucked under their arms. “General Crineal, Sir.” He was sure
the name was familiar but couldn’t think why it should be so. He certainly
wasn’t a noble and therefore couldn’t be that important. “You left your fighter
without completing your post-flight checks. This is a violation of flight deck
procedures,” his voice gained confidence as he spoke.
Crineal
stared at him some more before replying, “Is that so?” Del’Tarim noticed that
the expressions on the faces of the pilots behind Crineal had changed from
anger to cold amusement.
“Well,
Commander, I bow to your knowledge of flight deck procedure,” Crineal said
softly. “I would suggest, however, that you might like to read the local
emergency flight regulations. Once you’ve done that, you can report to my
office at oh eight hundred hours tomorrow.” Crineal turned back to the bay
doors and looked at the guards flanking them. “Gentlemen, if the commander here
tries to prevent me from leaving again, you are to shoot him immediately.”
The
guards snapped off salutes. “Yes, Sir, General,” and they brought their pulse
rifles to a ready position.
The
commander was now sweating heavily. As he stood to attention and watched the
little general leave, flanked by the other three pilots, he willed himself to
believe that the guards wouldn’t really shoot him; but, when he looked at them
both, deep down he knew they would. As the bay doors closed behind the four pilots
he became aware of the silence in the bay and he glared around. The bay techs
sprang back to life at their assigned tasks. Del’Tarim looked at them, daring
anyone to meet his gaze before finally turning and making his way out of Bay
Alpha Ten. He was sure he could hear laughter as the door slid shut behind him.
Crineal
strode heavily down the corridor towards the medical section. Everyone moved
out of his way when they saw him coming and the look on his face. Beside him
Lieutenant Perl spoke up.
“Sir?
Would you like me to get Staller and Muscovy and throw the commander out of an
airlock?”
The
blonde-haired 1 st Lieutenant Saphya elbowed Perl in the ribs. “This
isn’t a joking matter, Lieutenant.”
“I
wasn’t joking, Ma’am.”
“Thank
you for the offer, Lieutenant,” Crineal said grimly. “I’ll take a rain check on
that for the moment.”
The
three lieutenants looked at each other as they followed in the general’s wake,
each trying to figure out if he was kidding with them or not. It took them five
more minutes to reach medical
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