by John Bowers
"Yes. But that doesn't answer the question. What happened just now?"
Her blue eyes bored into his for long seconds. She spoke slowly.
"I've been attracted to you ever since I first saw you at Travis. As I got to know you, I began to want you more and more, but I never got a chance to tell you. You were always with Denise Jordan."
"Christ, what did you expect! You drove me away that first night, and Denise and I had been intimate for a long time."
"I know. I don't blame you for anything, Johnny. I know it's my fault."
"So what are you telling me? Tonight's the first time you had a chance to express your true feelings? Is that it?"
She lowered her eyes again.
"It's … more than that. The battle today, the stress, the fear … combat does that to me. I have to find an outlet."
He frowned, struggling to understand.
"Killing people makes you horny?" he asked tactlessly, and instantly regretted it when he saw the pain in her eyes.
She covered her face with her hands; when she removed them he saw tears sliding down her cheeks.
"I don't have a choice. When it's over, it's like I'm going to explode. I can't control it. I'm sorry if you think that's ugly, or immoral."
He stared at her a long moment, somehow aware that this was a critical moment in their history together. He fumbled for words, trying to understand.
"So … we'll only be making love after combat? Are those the rules?"
She shook her head, wiping moisture from her cheeks.
"You're my pilot," she said softly. "Now that we've reached this point, I'm willing whenever you are."
Johnny stood up slowly and crossed to the bed. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her. Without a word he kissed her, firmly but gently.
"Do you really mean that?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Because I'm willing right now."
* * *
The next morning after breakfast, Onja and Johnny received orders to return to Luna 9 immediately. Their QF was still sitting in a snowbank at Lincoln Enterprises, so they were issued a replacement. The orders said "immediately", so Johnny gave up any idea of spending a few hours with his family. He didn't even get to call them. An hour after receiving orders the QF streaked down Loveland's runway and lifted into the morning sky. At thirty thousand feet Johnny cut in the rockets and they climbed for the edge of space.
Chapter 24
Tuesday, 30 October, 0221 (PCC) — Lunar Base 9, Luna
The October raid by Sirian spacecraft proved to be the most severe to that date. Thousands died, many defense facilities were hit, and Space Force losses were the highest ever. To balance that, enemy losses were also high, so the raid had been costly for both sides.
As the war settled into its second year, the Federation was still losing. The Sirians had captured Ganymede, Europa, and Titan; nearly half the asteroid bases had been neutralized, and repeated strikes at Mars raised fears of a full-scale planetary assault in the near future. The Sirians and their allies were tightening the noose.
* * *
The squadron stood at formation in the parade ground, two neat rows with gunners in front and their pilots behind them. Pool gunners stood a separate formation to the side. Major Walters entered the room at a brisk stride, and Captain Santiago barked the order.
"Ten-hut!"
They snapped smartly to attention, eyes front, chests out, chins level. Flanked by two officers, Walters stopped front and center. He surveyed them with a bemused expression.
"Well, boys and girls," he said conversationally, perhaps a little sadly, "here we are again. By now you've heard that I've been transferred and I'm shipping out. Today I'm handing over command to your new CO."
He nodded at the new man.
"From now on he will be your new boss, your daddy, the guy who holds your hand when you cry. He fought in the Belt and has seen plenty of action, so you can all learn a lot from him. I hope you will serve as well for him as you did for me.
"Meet Major Jack Hinds."
* * *
After Walters had gone, Hinds paced up and down the formation, his green eyes baleful. Behind him stood a beautiful blonde woman wearing captain's bars, her blue eyes hard and empty.
Onja Kvoorik stared at a fixed point on the bulkhead, her stomach churning.
"My name is Hinds," the new man said in an iron voice. "My first name is Major."
Oh, how original! You stole that from Major Landon, you prick!
"You've probably heard about me," Hinds continued, "but don't believe everything you hear. Rumor has it that I'm a hard-hearted, mean-spirited, cold-blooded son of a bitch. I've been described as a hundred and ninety-eight pounds of prick."
He changed direction and paced back down the line.
"Let me set the record straight. The rumor is only half right. The other half is even worse. I'm your worst fucking nightmare. I expect two hundred percent from every one of you, and if I don't get it, I'll have you skinned!"
He reversed direction again.
"This squadron hasn't seen much combat, but I can promise you a lot more action, and if anyone here is afraid of the enemy, just remember that when the battle is over you still have to face me!"
He stopped again and stood facing them.
"You'll lose your fear of the enemy."
You stole that one, too, you bastard. From some ancient general named Patrick, or Patton, or something!
"Over the next couple of days I'll be interviewing every one of you, so if you have any questions or complaints, bring them with you. If you want out, fine — I'll transfer anyone who requests it, no questions asked. But if you stay, be prepared to fight."
Hinds turned and waved a hand at the woman beside him.
"This is my gunner, Captain Negus. Until further notice, she is also my executive officer. When she speaks, she carries my authority, so don't try going over her head."
He passed his gaze over them again.
"Until personal interviews are concluded, the squadron is on stand-down. Remain in quarters until you hear from me." He looked straight at Onja. "Lieutenant Kvoorik, stand to. Captain?"
"Squadron!" Negus barked. "Dismissed!"
The formation broke up and the squadron headed for the exits. Hinds stepped in front of Onja and looked her up and down.
"Good to see you again, Lieutenant."
"Major."
"Congratulations on your combat scores. Very impressive."
"I owe it all to my pilot."
"I'd like to begin my interviews with you. Shall we retire to my office?"
Moments later, Hinds closed the door to his office and sat on the edge of his desk, motioning Onja to a chair. She sat, fully aware of what he was going to say, and beat him to the punch.
"What happened, Hinds? I thought you already had a squadron."
"I did, but it was all fouled up. I was promised a carrier squadron with QuasarFighters, but when I got the unit they didn't get the assignment, or the fighters. The 213 got them instead. I went back and demanded what I'd been promised."
"Do you think you're making the right impression on these people?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You came on like a tyrant out there. This bunch has had a good CO and they had an asshole before that, so they may not react the way you want them to."
"Let me worry about that. I know what I want from them and I'll get it."
"It's a mistake, Hinds."
"We'll see. Now about you —"
"What about me?"
"When I said I'd transfer anyone who requested it, that doesn't include you. You're not going anywhere."
"Thank you. I like this squadron. If you tried to transfer me out, I'd cause you a lot of grief."
He snorted. "You'd try."
"Aren't you going to ask me to fly turret for you?"
"Yes. The offer still stands."
"But Captain Negus is your
gunner."
"She's my exec. If she has to stand down for you, she'll do it."
"But she won't like it."
"She'll obey orders."
Onja stared at him a long moment, and sighed heavily.
"You didn't learn anything from Major Landon, did you?"
"Like what?"
"Like how to handle people. How to be a human being. Everyone loved the major. They would've done anything for him, and did. You can't inspire that kind of loyalty with the tactics you're using."
"I'm not looking for your professional analysis, Onja. These people know how to fight, and that's all I want them to do. I want you to fight, too. With me."
"The answer is the same. I have a good pilot now. I like him, I respect him, and we fight well together."
"You in love with him?"
She flushed angrily. "That's none of your business! But for the record, no, I'm not."
"Still in love with Landon?"
"Yes."
"A dead man."
"Maybe."
Hinds regarded her with amusement.
"But you have the hots for Lincoln," he deduced. "Young, handsome, rich…"
"Fuck you, Hinds!"
"And he's nuts about you, right?"
"No. We have a professional relationship. He flies, I shoot. We're a perfect team. I think we proved that two weeks ago."
"Yeah, you two are big heroes. You lined up two dozen Sirians who were getting ready for atmosphere penetration, shields down, unable to maneuver, and you got lucky. How many of them were shooting back?"
"A lot of them. And there was nothing lucky about it; Johnny flew right up their ass and I nailed the bastards!”
"One of these days we're going to meet the Sirians in open space, nobody lined up and helpless. We'll see how you do then."
"I'll do fine."
Hinds slid off the corner of the desk and walked around behind it, dropping into his chair.
"I may have to give Lincoln a promotion," he said.
“What do you mean?” Onja's eyes narrowed, looking for the hook.
"He is a good pilot, one of the best. Should be a captain, at least. One of these days he'll have his own squadron. In the meantime, as a captain, he'll probably be transferred to another unit to serve as exec. I certainly won't need him here, since I already have an exec."
Onja trembled with rage.
"You bastard! If you do that, I promise you we'll lose our QuasarFighters to whichever squadron he goes to."
"What?" Hinds looked blank.
"The reason your last squadron didn't get the QF is because Johnny is here. His dad builds them, and he leaned on the military to assign the first shipment to Johnny's unit. With the shortage of QFs, they'll take our ships and give them to Johnny's new unit, because his dad wants Johnny to fly a QF."
"That's bullshit!"
"You think so? Try it. See what happens."
"I can't believe one man has that much political suck."
"Transfer Johnny and find out."
Hinds frowned, not sure if she was bluffing. He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment.
"Is there anything you want to tell me? Any complaints?"
"Not yet. You just got here."
"Anything you need? Or want?"
"Yes, I want you to leave this squadron intact. Don't undermine the morale here."
"This is a good squadron, but I want it to be better than that. I want it to be great."
"It will be, but not if you browbeat everybody. You can catch more flies with sugar than vinegar."
"Funny thing about flies," he said. "They're attracted by sugar and shit. I'm fresh out of sugar."
Onja spread her hands in resignation.
"Okay. But if you transfer Johnny out of here, I still won't fly back seat for you. And I won't sleep with you."
He raised his eyebrows. "We'll see."
* * *
Johnny Lincoln was summoned next, and sat easily in the chair facing his new CO, fully aware that Hinds probably didn't like him. A macho character like Hinds would feel threatened by anyone who had a better combat record, especially if that someone was six years younger, new in the service — and sleeping with the finest looking gunner in this corner of the galaxy.
"Johnny Lincoln, age twenty-three, fourteen months in uniform," Hinds said, quoting from memory. "Heir to the family fortune of Lincoln Enterprises. And a fucking war hero to boot." Hinds let his lips smile but his eyes pinned Johnny to his chair. "Some people must be born lucky, huh?"
"Sir?"
"What do you suppose makes you such a good pilot?"
"Experience, I guess, sir."
"You were a test pilot before the war."
"Yes, sir."
"Pretty young for a test pilot, weren't you?"
"Yes, sir. But I grew up around military spacecraft. I was flying the GalaxyFighter when I was sixteen. "
"Why didn't you keep on doing that? Seems like that's a pretty important job for the war effort."
"It is, sir, but I wanted to fight."
"And now you have forty some-odd kills."
"No, sir. Those are mostly Onja's. I only have five. The rest are my gunners' credits."
Hinds nodded curtly.
"No question, Lincoln, you are an outstanding pilot. I've seen the combat reports on your last two actions. How would you like a promotion?"
"A promotion, sir?"
"To captain. You'd like to be a captain, wouldn't you?"
Johnny shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it, sir."
"As a captain you could be an executive officer, maybe get your own unit some day. Your skill and experience shouldn't be wasted. You should be leading men."
Johnny didn't respond.
"If I could grant you one wish, Lincoln, what would it be?"
"More action, sir. I want to fight, and all these months in between are getting to me."
"I could get you a posting to Mars tomorrow," Hinds said casually. "Plenty of action out there, and they're short-handed. They need men with your skills."
Johnny faltered slightly, frowning.
"That sounds fine, sir," he said carefully. "But you said this morning that the 213 is going to see a lot more action real soon. I really would rather fly off a carrier."
"You still can. But that won't happen for several more months. In the meantime you can see some real action on Mars."
Johnny frowned, but didn't answer.
"Shall I cut the orders?"
"Major…"
"What is it?"
"With respect, sir — are you trying to get rid of me?"
"Why would I do that?"
"I'm not sure, sir, but you seem pretty eager to transfer me. If you're as impressed with me as you say, I'd expect you to want to keep me here."
"Lincoln, I can't keep a hot pilot out of action just for my own gratification. The war needs you now. In case you haven't heard, we aren't doing so well. I'm prepared to send you to a frontline squadron where the action is, and as soon as our carrier is commissioned, I can bring you back to fight with us."
Johnny felt uneasy, but wasn't sure why.
"I guess that would be okay," he said slowly.
"Good!" Hinds leaned forward and smiled for the first time. "I'll have your orders ready tomorrow morning."
Johnny frowned. "Sir, when you cut those orders, I assume you'll be cutting them for my gunner as well?"
Hinds dropped back into his chair, clearly annoyed.
"We're not discussing your gunner, Lincoln, we're discussing you."
"Well, sir, without my gunner I'm not much good out there."
"That's ridiculous. As a civilian you downed five Sirians all by yourself. And you racked up another five with your first gunner. There's no reason to believe you won't do as well with someone else."
Hinds waited, but Johnny only stared at him.
"If it's pussy you're concerned about, you don't need to worry. There's new stuff coming out of gunnery school eve
ry day, young and hot and willing. With your record and your fame, they'll kill each other to get into your back seat."
Johnny's face flamed red with anger. "Thank you, Major, but I've got the best in the galaxy. I'll wait for the carrier."
Hinds tossed his stylus onto the desk in frustration.
"Let me be straight with you. Kvoorik and I go away back. I knew her back at 131, and I'd like her flying turret for me. She won't do that as long as you're here, because she doesn't want to hurt you. She can go far with the right pilot, but if you insist on keeping her, you're just going to retard her career."
Johnny didn't respond.
"Are you in love with her?"
Johnny bit his lip, but still didn't answer. Hinds nodded slowly.
"You are in love with her. Well, first of all, that's not very smart, considering she could be dead at any time when you go into battle. And second, if you really do love her, you won't hold her back. She's fiercely loyal, and she'll stand by you as long as you take this position. But let her go and she'll soar."
He lowered his voice for effect.
"She doesn't love you, you know. She never will. She told me a half-hour ago that she's still in love with Major Landon, her first pilot."
Johnny's face felt hot, and his fingers drummed nervously.
"I think you're forgetting something, Major."
"Oh? And what would that be?"
"It doesn't matter what I want, but what Onja wants. I think you'd have to clear it with Fleet before you break us up."
Hind's green eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I guess you didn't check the records, sir. General Osato gave Onja permission to pick her own pilot. She picked me. I don't think you have the authority to split us up unless she agrees to it."
Hinds stared at him for long seconds, his mottled face turning red.
"That sounds like bullshit, Lincoln," he said finally.
"Sir, I wouldn't try to bluff you on this. All you have to do is check the squadron record."
"Kvoorik never said anything about this when I interviewed her."
Johnny shrugged. "Check it out for yourself."
"Oh, you can be sure I will," Hinds told him. "And if you're lying, I'll nail your hide to the bulkhead."
"Yes, sir."
Hinds fiddled with his stylus a moment, apparently at a dead end.