DISCLAIMER: I don't own or am profiting from Wing Commander or anything related, but this story happens to be mine.
By Alhazred
madarab20@hotmail.com
"Problems Maestro?"
"None at all chief, just trying to get used to all the room again"
"Yeah, I don't think the rest of Confed R & D ever liked the idea of a capital ship with space," Coriolis chuckled. Maestro figured he'd head to see Anderson, who always had some idea of what was going on. The shuttle pilot hadn't even told him he was headed for the Midway, and he didn't have transfer orders. Someone else had the same idea.
"Mr. Garret!"
Spinning on his heal, Maestro snapped to attention and popped a salute to CAG Drake. She and Maniac had been lobbying in the senate for increased military readiness, last he'd heard. "Yes Ma'am!"
"Welcome back. But I should tell you that you're not really being transferred here."
Bells and whistles went off in Maestro's head. Something was up.
"The guest we have in the briefing room should be able to fill you in," she added, a frustrated tone in her voice. Something was being kept from her and she didn't like it. "You're to report as soon as you get your gear stowed back on that shuttle, Lieutenant."
"Yes Ma'am," saluting again, Maestro turned, adjusted the strap of his duffel bag, and headed off back for the launch deck.
"Lieutenant," the CAG suddenly called. He froze. "The bottle."
His face contorting while his back was still turned, Maestro pulled one of the more discreet zippers on his bag and pulled out his latest seizure of Alterian Brandy.
"The Cerberus CAG happens to be an old friend," Drake smiled as he handed it over. "I could guess what happened when something from his stash vanished."
With a teasing wave of the bottle in front of his face, Drake walked off.
---
"You know, I had to get used to war myself. Way back on the Claw when Tolwyn was commanding. Back then we never let anyone else see that it got to us…"
"I know what ya mean laddie, and here we are goin through it all over again."
"Yeah… I always thought the old geezer'd live forever."
"I hear ya. When I got word of it I put the report down and went on with everythin else on my desk for a few minutes before I realized what it said."
"So it is true," the Kilrathi sitting in the corner spoke up, "the Heart of the Tiger is dead?"
"Truer then we'd like to think, my furry friend," Taggart replied as the doors opened. "Ah, there ye are lad!"
Maestro couldn't help but pause and look around the room several times to make sure he'd gotten everything right. Maniac was sitting in a front row seat with a bottle on the floor and a half-empty shot glass in his hand, there was a Kilrathi sitting in the corner, and there was a familiar looking old man leaning on the CAG's podium. Maestro had met him at the party thrown in Sol for the Midway personnel instrumental in repelling the aliens from Kilrah.
"Senator Taggart?"
"The one & only, Maestro my boy. So, now that we're all here, I believe you and Maniac know each other, this is," he motioned to the Kilrathi, suddenly noticing the feline had fallen asleep. "Ahem!"
With a snort, the Kilrathi woke from his catnap.
"As I was saying, Major Marshal, Lieutenant Garret, this is Jeager nar Hhallas, related to a certain Kilrathi that used to be stationed on the TCS Victory."
"Great. Haven't we dealt with enough of that family for one lifetime," Maniac sighed, pouring another drink.
Maestro looked from Maniac to the Kilrathi and back again. "I'm missing a lot here, ain't I?"
"You'd rather not know," Jeager intoned. "I certainly wish I didn't."
"Well," Taggart jumped in, "now that we're all acquainted, I assume you all know who," he leaned over the main console and entered some commands, "this is?"
An image popped up on the main screen. It was a personnel profile, zoomed onto the photograph. The photo was an old man with long-turned gray hair and a scowl on his face. Maniac spit his drink out.
Maestro tilted his head to the side, studying the man. "Isn't that... Geoffrey Tolwyn?"
"Aye, that he is. You all know he's dead of course. Some of the… circumstances around that are a bit classified but we won't get into that. I'm sure everyone wants to know why we're here."
Taggart entered another command into the console. The mug shot of Tolwyn zoomed out into the upper left corner of the screen, making room for electronic schematics on a very large ship. The file was labeled "TCS Behemoth."
"Now Maniac should recognize this tub, but it's never been unclassified, meaning the rest of you can't talk about this with anyone who doesn't already know, and I mean it. This mother of a ship was a pet project of Admiral Tolwyn's for the last decade of the Galactic War. As far as he was concerned, it was Confed's last hope of winning. We were keeping it from the public, of course, but we were losing badly in the last stages."
"I do not understand," Jeager spoke up. "How can a single ship make a difference like that? It seems the eventual weapon that concluded the war was far more… concrete."
"Looks can be deceiving," Taggart brought up another animation. "Now I was never the expert, but Behemoth here was built to be a series of interconnecting superconductor… things that, well, to put it simply, will destroy a planet. When Tolwyn test fired it, it worked like a charm. Loki VI isn't really Loki VI, you know."
"So," Maestro started, "if Tolwyn could just… push a button and blow Kilrah from afar, why all that Temblor Bomb stuff?"
Jeager's eyes lit up. "Rhalga sent word that that thing was headed for Kilrah, didn't he?"
"Good guess, lad. Behemoth was ambushed and destroyed on the way. The Temblor Bomb was my own desperate attack project. But be that as it may, what matters is," he pointed to the Behemoth display, "that we've rebuilt her."
Maniac finally stood and came out of his funk, like he'd had a revelation. He laughed. "Oh wait, wait, this is so typical, we all had something to do with this thing in the first place. I flew escort, our friend here's father or… brother or whatever was Hobbes," he poured one more drink for the hell of it. "You know I told Maverick I coulda kept the cats off of it if he just stood aside, but he had to slow me down and look what happened."
"I feel so left out," Maestro feigned. "I didn't have anything to do with it."
"Well actually lad," Taggart corrected, bringing Tolwyn's picture back up. "You do. See him?"
Maestro glanced at Tolwyn again and shrugged. "Yeah…"
"That's your father."
Maniac spit his drink out again, this time going into a fit of laughter. Maestro laughed himself, thinking it was pretty funny.
"C'mon Senator…"
"I'm serious lad. And I got the DNA records ta prove it," he handed Maestro a data pad. "You, my friend, are Admiral Geoffrey Tolwyn's one and only son. The dates are a little iffy given his… last military act, but be that as it may, Tolwyn had vanished by the time you were born and your biological mother died in childbirth. The Garrets adopted ye, and the rest is history."
Maestro slowly deadpanned as he read through. When he went to sit down, he missed the chair and plopped down on the floor, but his eyes never came from the documentation. Rumors about Admiral Tolwyn had long circulated through Confed, and not only was the DNA test included in what Taggart had handed the pilot, but the classified confirmation of those rumors was there too.
"Jesus," he said, half to himself. "I never… I…"
"You never had a clue, laddie," Taggart jumped in, "The old bat asked me to track you down and tell ya when I thought the time was right. I must admit I'm surprised I actually did the guy a favor, but, well, you didn't ask to be born, and he didn't need to guilt trip me for it."
"Shit," maniac commented, sitting back down. "Tough break kid. I dunno what's scarier, your father or that the old fool not only got a woman in bed but still managed to keep the family going in the military…"
Maestro needed to think about something else. Fast. "So what are we doing here?"
"Well I'm glad ye asked that laddie," Taggart said. "Back to the Behemoth, see, for the last few years we've been piecing Tolwyn's research back together and I was just told last month that we've rebuilt the oversized peashooter. Without Tolwyn we haven't been able to modify the technology, the main cannon is still optimized for destroyed stationary targets… like planets. Now here's the thing. We're moving that big alien wormhole maker right back to Kilrah. The computers on it have a lot of information, including information on their own territories. They're planning another invasion, too, with or without the convenient entry point at Proxima."
Another command into the console, and a star map came up. "What we want to do is use their gate to go right to their main base of operations. They have no home world in the manner that we understand the concept, but a planet at the coordinates specified by the device, just outside of explored space on the Sol sector side, is the staging area for the assault against us. Behemoth goes in, planet is destroyed, and bugs are weakened so they can't invade. I've got all of you here because, yes, maniac was right, you've all had something to do with the original," he glanced at Maestro and Jeager, "one way or another. It covers my rear in terms of telling people highly sensitive information. And you're all good pilots; you should have no problems ensuring the insertion goes off smoothly. Being as this is somewhat unofficial, I can't force any of you to accept the assignment."
The three pondered the obvious hinted question. Maniac didn't need much encouragement. "Oh pick me pick me," he dumbly called out, waving his arm around. "I think Drake and I encouraged the Senate quite enough to step up military readiness, anyway. God, don't remind me of peace dividend supporters arguing every… single… point…"
"I'm in," Maestro added, only half paying attention. His eyes weren't seeing the bulkheads.
"I've never been one to turn down a good battle," Jeager concluded.
---
Maestro had found something in his bag halfway through the shuttle trip. An old style holo-recorder from the days of the Kilrathi war, slightly beat up, but in perfect working condition. He had a very strong feeling Taggart had either slipped it in or had someone do so, but the hunch of what it was made him shove into the deepest, darkest corner under his apparel while he wasn't alone.
"Okay now look guys, I know you all wanna get in there and kill a lot of bugs and everything but let's remember none of you compare to me…"
Maniac went on and on with his speeches. Maestro let him talk, remembering he wasn't the only one going through something emotional at the moment. Inside, Maniac was torn in half by Blair's death and his usual inferiority complex had changed from an amusing personality to his emotional release. But Maestro would have torn the voice box out of anyone else to have peace and quiet.
Fifteen minutes before the rendezvous point, Maniac fell asleep.
"Quarter for your thoughts, Terran?"
"Penny."
"Ah, apologies," Jeager responded. "Quarter for your pennies?"
Maestro laughed. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you."
But the Kilrathi would not be sidetracked. "My own father left me a legacy, you know."
"Really," Maestro was starting to think Taggart had picked them because they'd all been through emotional trauma and could relate. Why else would the Senator drop the bomb on him right there in five seconds flat?
"Yes, my father was the sole Kilrathi defector during the war, but his personality was created to hide his true self, and he betrayed the Terrans when he was reawakened as his true self."
"I remember that now," Maestro thought aloud. "History lessons at the academy and all. They never tell us the bad parts. The Behemoth, your father turning on Confed, but I remember learning about a defector."
The feline grew somber. "Mmm, a pity he couldn't let the morals he learned from his new personality influence the original."
Maestro was surprised. He didn't have the bad blood against the Kilrathi that war veterans did, but a lot of younger generation Kilrathi had it against Confed. "You think he made the wrong choice?"
"I think he dishonored his family. 'Hobbes' betrayed us because he disagreed with the Empire's motives. He switched sides for a reason, and then he turned right back around and stabbed everything he fought for in the back. I'd rather he was a scientist or one of your rock stars, and you can't begin to understand how insulting that would be in his time."
Before Maestro could answer, something caught the corner of his eye. He looked out the window and saw the jump point open, a massive, oblong ship starting to emerge. The records hadn't prepared him for the sight of the real thing. "Wow. There it is…"
He was truly awestruck, as was Jaeger as soon as he shifted his gaze. The Behemoth lived up to its name, being absolutely huge with most of its displacement owing to the barrel. The shuttle passed by the starboard side, creating an actual sense of mass nearby. What was more, the shiny new vessel, unlike the original, was complete with armor and defenses the original had lacked due to time constraints.
The Behemoth fully emerged from its jump, and at that exact moment, it struck Maestro that he was looking at Death itself. The completed conventional weapon system was enough to take care of any fighters and bombers that dared come close, and capital ships would be eaten alive by the sheer amount of gunnery on the monster. All of that served to keep the weapon in one piece so it could line up an entire planet in its sights and pull the trigger on a world. "Holy God…"
"Uh, huh, someone call," Maniac snorted awake, took one look out the window, and said, "oh that thing again…"
---
Though the main aspects of Behemoth were identical to the original, there had been some superficial improvements, a hanger bay and expanded living quarters included. The bay had a stock of Confed fighters, though there were no Piranhas, Tigersharks or Shrikes. All of them were original designs, not the Black variants carried by Cerberus.
The Lounge and briefing room were just as well equipped as Midway's. The eccentricities were obviously built with a smaller contingent of pilots in mind. Maniac received his first actual shock throughout the whole thing when he walked onto the bridge and found "Radio" Rollins, once a lowly comm. officer, in command. Taggart had been around.
Jeager went off to explore the ship, but Maestro found his quarters and settled down. The fact that he had his own quarters, with three rooms, nonetheless, was a welcome surprise. Even Midway wasn't large enough to break away from the war-era pilot barracks. Bunking with the rest of the squad was never something he objected to, but right now, the privacy was very, very welcome.
All that considered, he plunked the old holo-recorder into the middle of the table and grabbed a stiff drink before sitting down. He rubbed his eyes to stall another second, and finally switched it on. The two colors it projected, blue and light blue, quickly formed into a shape. A thin, old man whose hair was obviously long grayed despite the lack of color now stood on the small object, broken by holographic static. He wore a war-era Admiral's uniform, and despite the size, the name "Tolwyn" was readable on the nametag. He cleared his throat.
"Well then," Tolwyn began, almost nervously. "If you are seeing this, one of several things has happened. The most pessimistic possibility is that you've stolen this recorder and it does not belong to you. Or perhaps you're James Taggart, sneaking a peek after I've asked you to keep this and deliver it in a few years. I should hope not, because you'd never do so after listening. I'm surprised you're doing this at all. The ideal situation, of course, is that you are the one this message is intended for."
"Here here," Maestro said, raising his drink in mock toast. Tolwyn went on.
"Good ol' Taggart was supposed to have told you quite a bit before giving you this, but as I don't particularly trust him, I'm going to play it safe," he cleared his throat again. Maestro suddenly understood where the need to stall came from. "My name is Geoffrey Tolwyn, and I'm your father. Yes, I know that sounds a little Darth Vader-ish, and I know that they don't teach Star Wars in school, but please humor me. As hard as it is for either of us to accept, I'm your father, Maxwell. At least I hope your name is Maxwell, it's the name I wanted for you, a parent is allowed to name their child, correct? Of course, that doesn't mean they didn't heed to my wishes to make you male, centuries of civilization and we still find men more likely to serve in the military. I must apologize for predestining your fate, really, but I'm getting ahead of myself."
Maestro set his drink down and folded his arms on the table. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't help giving his father his full attention.
"You see Maxwell, what Taggart doesn't know is that I maneuvered the Garrets to adopt you in my own discreet way, long before you were born. Well, I suppose money wasn't so subtle. They never knew it all came from me, of course. Your father the captain would have been appalled, hypocrite that he was, to know a pristine Admiral was responsible. I know all about the Garrets, you see. I know Diana Garret was always scared to death when her husband was home, and I know it's because Steven Garret is abusive to the point that you'll have joined the military to please him, to keep him off your back, and to get the hell away from him"
Maestro froze.
"Perhaps one day you can forgive me for putting you through that, though if you're anything like me, you won't. But you're not there for him anymore, are you? I don't think so. Maxwell, our family has served for many, many generations, and I felt… guilty that it was going to end with me. But it wasn't like I could just get married and settle down, you know. I let the war take away my time, not realizing how precious it was. The sad truth is that I never met your mother, I simply donated to a sperm bank and, well, you can figure it out. Perhaps you can find her eventually, though whoever she was, she was also hired with funds that, in the end, came from me. In any case, here you are. I have such faith in genetics, you see, that I know joining to please Garret eats you, but that in the end you want to be here. I… hope that doesn't eat you more…"
Tolwyn's posture slumped, as if he were tired.
"I'm gone, but the Tolwyn family, if not the name, carries on with you as it always has. Still, Maxwell Tolwyn would have sounded nice, don't you think?"
With a smile from the long-dead man, the message ended and the holo-recorder shut off. Unable to think, Maestro dropped his head into his arms.
And he cried for a very long time.
---
NOTE: I'm going to break down and admit that, unfortunately, I never had the chance to play Wing Commander 4, and since it probably won't happen any time soon, I decided to go ahead and do this. I have a basic understanding of the WC4's main plot, but no details, so I apologize if there are inconsistencies.