Part 3
Many are the hearts that are weary tonight,
Wishing for the war to cease;
Many are the hearts looking for the right
To see the dawn of peace.
-- Walter C. Kittredge, 1863
"I'm sorry folks, but it looks like there's going to be a delay," the tinny-sounding voice said through the loudspeaker. Victor Stone and Toni Monetti exchanged rueful glances. So far, their trip had been one delay after another. They were finally on the last leg -- the transport ship to the Texas -- so now what?
The tinny voice continued, "We've just received word that the Texas' carrier group is under attack. We're not in any danger currently, but the wing leader has asked us to hold our position until the sortie is over. We'll keep you posted."
Vic and Toni now looked at each other in alarm. Neither of them really liked the idea of being stuck on a mostly unarmed and unarmored transport while there was fighting nearby. Their instincts pushed them to help in the battle, while their minds realized there was nothing they could do. It was one thing to worry about Dick Grayson's being an active duty fighter pilot when they were back on Earth; it was another to realize he could be out there right now, fighting for his life perhaps, while they sat doing nothing.
After a tense hour's wait, the ship's captain announced over the loudspeaker that the attack was over, and the Texas fighters had beaten back the enemy fighters. They could now proceed with the remainder of their flight. Ninety minutes later, the transport docked with the Texas.
Vic looked around with interest as he stepped through the entrance hatch. He managed to catch himself just before he ran into the back of Petty Officer Truman, their guide from the supply ship.
The petty officer drew herself to attention and saluted the ensign waiting for them. "Permission to come aboard, sir?"
"Granted, petty officer," replied the ensign, returning her salute. He then turned to Vic and Toni with a welcoming smile. "Sir, ma'am, welcome aboard the Texas! I'm Ensign McKeon, the Public Information Officer. The CAG has asked if you could meet him in his office, so if you'll follow me ..."
"What about our luggage?" Toni asked plaintively.
"And my equipment," added Vic.
"That's all being taken care of. Please, follow me," McKeon said as he walked through another hatch and into a main corridor.
Several twists and turns and an elevator ride later, the two civilians were escorted into a small office where two men were waiting for them. Dick Grayson was a welcome sight, although it was rather disconcerting to see him in a flightsuit and ball cap. The other man who rose to greet them was older and dressed in khakis. He was a tall, lean man in his mid-to-late forties with sharp green eyes and dark brown hair that was going gray at the temples; he shook their hands as the PIO introduced them.
"Welcome aboard. I'm Captain Tremaine, the commander of the Texas' fighters. This is Lieutenant Grayson, my senior squadron leader. I've asked him to be your escort and liaison while you're on board. I want you to know that you have my complete support -- if you need anything at all, you just ask."
"Thank you, sir," Vice replied as they shook hands with Dick. Dick nodded in greeting, winking at Vic as he did so.
"No, thank you young man," the CAG responded. "These mines have been giving us fits, but Washington didn't seem to grasp the severity of our problem. I'm just glad someone's gotten off his six and decided to study the problem."
"You realize, sir, that we're not making any guarantees?" Toni interjected. "I mean, I can't say for sure that I can protect Vic's probe against whatever that mine is."
The CAG was quick to reassure them. "I understand, ma'am. At least you're out here though. That's a big step." He turned to Dick. "Grayson, I'll let you take over now. Except for the mission briefing at 0900 tomorrow, you are at their disposal."
Dick came to attention and then followed Vic and Toni out of the CAG's office. He obtained the locations of Vic's and Toni's quarters and dismissed the PIO. The three Titans acted quite normally until they were safely out of sight in the elevator, whereupon Toni flung herself at Dick in a bear hug while Vic grabbed Dick's raised hand in a much more enthusiastic handshake than the formal one they had exchanged earlier.
"Okay, you got us out here, and managed to get yourself put in charge of us, which I admit was a good trick. So now what?" Vic asked as the three sat in his quarters.
"Do you think my idea's doable?" Dick asked anxiously.
"It made sense to me," Vic replied. "We know from the earlier fighting that Toni's shields can take anything the bugs dish out. Once we can get some data on these things, we have a better shot at shuttin' them down."
"That was my thought, too. Why don't we grab my wingman and find out for sure?"
"You mean, right now?" Vic asked.
"No time like the present," Dick replied cheerfully.
"Uh ... okay. Didn't you just get back from flying a mission?"
"Yeah, but this should just be a milk run. You and Toni are going to be doing the real work."
Dick helped Vic gather his equipment. The probes that Vic had brought were surprisingly small for the job they were being asked to do. Each one was a small rocket, less than a yard long and only six inches or so in diameter.
"You're sure these are going to be powerful enough?"
"You just handle the driving, Dicky-boy; I'll take care of the hardware," Vic replied with a mock glare. "These babies are packed to the gills with every sensor device known to man or alien. They'll find your bogey."
"I hope so," Dick said grimly. "I've lost too many friends to those things."
Dick led them through the corridors to his quarters. As they walked, they became more aware of the changes that had occurred over the two years of separation. Vic was probably the least changed -- his face was a little more weathered-looking, with a couple of lines now showing on his forehead, but that was about it. Toni had matured into a truly beautiful young woman; she also seemed quieter and less frenetic than in the past.
Dick's changes were both more obvious and yet more subtle. Both Toni and Vic were still getting used to the sight of the wedding ring on his left hand. On a more serious note, he also looked thinner; his features, especially around his cheekbones and jaw appeared sharper. Although he had smiled and joked with them earlier, it seemed that his normal expression was much graver than they were used to. Vic had always been of the private opinion that anyone who grew up with Batman for a father and could still laugh had tremendous strength of character. Now, it looked as if the grinding responsibility of leading his squadron and seeing men and women he cared about die was wearing away even Dick's normally cheerful disposition. Knowing Dick, he probably also blamed himself for those deaths.
When they reached Dick's quarters, the tiny compartment made Toni and Vic realize how relatively spacious their quarters were -- especially because Dick shared it with his wingman who was currently reading in the top bunk. Dick whacked the wall with the flat of his hand, startling the other man so much he almost fell.
"Hey! What's the big idea, Rich? Who's gonna watch your six if you make me break my neck?!" Dick's wingman was tall and lanky with reddish-blond hair and blue eyes and a pronounced southern accent.
"We've got company, HD," Dick said, ignoring the complaint. "Victor Stone, Toni Monetti, meet Lieutenant JG Harrison Delacroix, also known as HD or Hound Dog, take your pick."
"'Hound Dog?'" Toni asked with a smile.
HD blushed under the pretty young woman's gaze and tried to stammer a reply. Dick took pity on him and came to his rescue.
"HD has a favorite saying that struck his fellow pilots as amusing." Dick pointed to HD and waited.
"Uh ... That dog won't hunt," HD said on cue, blushing even darker.
"They combined that, his being from Memphis, and his initials, and came up with 'Hound Dog' as his callsign." Dick shrugged.
"So what's your callsign, D..Richard?" Vic asked, remembering Dick's name change at the last minute.
Picking up some papers which were lying scattered about, Dick tried to ignore the question, which also brought HD out of his trance.
"His callsign's 'Knight,'" HD replied helpfully.
"'Night?'" Toni asked wonderingly.
"'Knight.' With a 'K,'" Dick said in resignation.
"How did that happen?" Mindful of the wingman's presence, Vic managed to keep his tone fairly normal, but his eyebrows spoke volumes.
Now it was Dick's turn to blush. "When I was in flight school, I had a run-in with one of my instructors. He assigned me some scutwork as punishment. I wasn't a happy camper, so I was cussing the guy out, but I was doing it in Romany so no one would know."
"Romany?" Vic asked for the benefit of their audience.
"The language of the gypsies -- my dad was a gypsy."
"So what does that have to do with your callsign?"
"Well, some Air Force pilot geeks were walking by, and they asked me what language I was speaking."
"I didn't think you were supposed to talk about your fellow pilots that way," Vic said smilingly.
"Their geekiness is essential to the story. Where was I? Oh yeah, I told them it was the language of the gypsies. They asked if I was a gypsy, and I said, 'Yeah, I'm Rom.'" Dick then closed his eyes in pained remembrance. "One of the Air Force guys then giggled and said, 'Oh, you mean like Rom, Spaceknight4?'"
Toni started giggling. Vic struggled, but managed to restrain his laughter.
"At first, I didn't know what they were talking about, but then the geeks started telling me all about this comic book about some alien robot-guy who comes to Earth. The rest of my squadron picked up on the name, but eventually shortened it to 'Knight.' Anyway," he turned back to glare at HD, "we're ready to give this idea of Vic's a shot. Grab your gear, and let's go."
"What kind of ships are we going to be using?" Vic finally thought to ask as they entered the flight deck.
"I figured we'd use a couple of Tweedles," Dick replied absently as he looked for his plane captain. He had already made arrangements for the ships to be ready, but Sam wanted to look them over personally.
"Tweedles?" Vic questioned.
"Oh, sorry. You know, ... Deuces."
Vic's eyebrows lowered, and he said threateningly, "Do you mean to tell me that Deuces, ... my Deuces, ... have been nicknamed Tweedles?!?"
"Your Deuces, sir?" HD asked.
"I designed those birds, Lieutenant Delacroix! They're good machines -- they don't deserve to be labeled something as ... as disrespectful as 'Tweedle!'" By this time, Vic was almost shouting.
"It's not disrespectful, Vic," Dick answered soothingly. "I'm afraid it's just that you did your job a little too well." At Vic's look of confusion, he continued, "Look, the Navy asked you to design a two-man all-purpose craft, right? It's got good speed, good armor, good weapons, and even some cargo space. But you see, when the birds went into use, all the co-pilots complained of feeling superfluous -- the ship barely needed *one* pilot, let alone two. That's where the nickname came from -- one of the guys said he felt like they were Tweedledum and Tweedledee in the cockpit."
Vic stared at Dick measuringly. Finally, he nodded his head. "All right. I guess I can live with that. But could you at least try to call them Deuces while I'm here?" he asked almost plaintively.
Dick and HD exchanged glances. Dick answered, "I guess we can try."
Further discussion was prevented by the appearance of Petty Officer Sam Hauptmann, Dick's plane captain.
"Lieutenant, your Tweedles are all ready to go!"
Vic sighed.
** End Part 3 **
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4 For you non-Marvel-zombies out there, Rom, Spaceknight was a comic book series from back in the early eighties. The last year's mini-series, Spaceknights, is actually a sequel to the title. I've never read any of the them, but I figured if I thought of the joke, another comic geek might also.