Heading Out

"You mean you're letting me go out and get him?" asked Maniac to the Fleet Admiral.

"Yes, Commodore," said the Admiral. "If the message is indeed from Commodore Blair then you are authorized to use whatever means necessary to bring him home."

"Yes, sir!" Maniac said enthusiastically and turned to leave.

"One more thing, Commodore," the Admiral said to stop him. "You are to head to the G'renll sector first."

"What for?" whined Maniac. "That will take the Palau 72 hours out of its way and the quickest route from there will take us through heavy bug territory. What's in G'renll?"

"Your newest crew additions."

"My what?"

"In order to help you complete your mission you're being given all fourteen of the new Cobra Class fighters and all seven of the pilots qualified to fly them."

"All fourteen and all seven?"

"That's right, Commodore. There are only fourteen Cobras in existence at this time and only seven pilots in existence at this time capable of taking them into a fight. And YOU are getting them all. Try to bring them back in one piece."

"The pilots or the fighters?"

"Both, Commodore," concluded the Admiral with a smile that made Maniac's skin crawl. "Both."

"Yes, sir," Maniac said and then promptly left for the transport pod that would take him back to the Palau.


The pilots of Omega Squadron were rushing to get their gear packed and to the Riker before its departure. They remained silent through it all and even avoided eye contact with one another. Finally one of them broke the silence.

"You all know what this assignment means right?" he asked.

"Yes, Tracer," said another pilot who was carefully packed a large chest with alcohol. "It means that we're finally going to see some real action near the front instead staying back here playing with simulators and dummy ships."

"No!" shouted Tracer almost hysterically. "That's not what it means. This assignment is Special Ops. That means extra danger, and that means we're all supposed to die."

"Calm down, you silly git," one of the female pilots said. "You're just imagining way beyond the worst."

"Am I, Princess?" Tracer asked.

"Well," began the one who was packing the alcohol. "All that considered, there are two things I know. The first is that it means more alcohol will be needed. The second is that our Kill Board scores will soar fast."

"One thing I know as well," began another one of the female pilots. "Is that we each only get to eject once. After that, we go down with the ship." She winked at Tracer who was by now a wreck.

"C'mon, Tracer," said the Wing Commander as he placed his hand on Tracer's shoulder. "You know that we're the best pilots in our class because otherwise they wouldn't have asked us to enter the Cobra training program. You'll feel better once you're back in the cockpit. Besides, none of us would allow another squad member to crash and burn."

Tracer took a deep breath and nodded his head in agreement. "You're right," he said. "I guess I just got the jitters being this is our first real assignment."

"Now that's the Tracer we all know and love," said the pilot who was packing the alcohol. With that he grabbed Tracer by the sides of the head and gave him a big kiss on the forehead. "Now, let's all get out of here before the Riker leaves without us."

Without any further word they finished packing and headed for the launch bay where the Riker was waiting for them.

To be continued…