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Part 4

Leaning back in his chair, Wes shuffled through the datacards left by his benevolent wingman. The sims weren't top-notch, but were at least better than the nerf-droppings in the desk drawer. He'd save them for later, though, they would be more help in keeping him awake through the long early hours of the morning.

Wes picked out the issue of "Hot Swoops" datazine and slid it into the terminal. This 'zine specialized in photos and specs of the most gorgeously tricked-out swoops and speeders in the galaxy, usually decorated by equally gorgeous females of various species who appeared alongside them. Or sitting on them, or lounging against them, or... whoa. Wes's eyes widened. I didn't think that was possible for a human anatomy... I wonder if that's her swoop? It certainly seems to fit her well -- in more ways than one. Wes grinned to himself. I wonder if she could do that riding double? Would be fun to find out...

Absorbed in paging through the screens of hot rides and hotter women, Wes missed the quiet sound of someone clearing their throat beside his desk, and then doing it again. The third time, it was followed by a voice as dry and unyielding as the deserts of Tatooine. "Enjoying yourself, Major?"

Wes jumped and spun around. Beside his security desk stood a short, thin, middle-aged colonel wearing insignia of the base security detail, his face set in an expression of implacable displeasure. Wes scrambled to his feet and stood at attention. "Er, yes sir. I mean --"

"Save it, Major ... Janson, is it?" the colonel replied, stern eyes glancing over his rank and insignia, the wings that designated his pilot's commission, and the array of badges for honors accorded and campaigns fought.

"Yessir."

"Of Rogue Squadron. Finding yourself rather lower in station tonight than you are accustomed to, are you not?" The colonel looked up at Wes from a full five centimeters' difference in height, but his proud eyes spoke of a vast, offended dignity, carried easily across slim shoulders, back as straight and stiff as if plasteel had been grafted to his spine.

"Yessir, I am."

The colonel reached out a hand, palm-up. "The datacard, please."

Wes inwardly groaned, but there was no way out of it. He ejected the card from the terminal and reluctantly laid it in the colonel's palm. The colonel himself unbent so far as to lean over and scoop the rest of the datacards from the desk. "Officers on punishment detail ought to know better than to compound their offenses by bringing unauthorized material on duty. You are not here to work on your targeting skills or to view lurid holographs of shameless women," he commented critically, glancing at each card quickly before deftly stacking them together and sliding them into a pocket.

"Oh, I'm not here on punishment detail, sir," Wes blurted out, his mouth as usual two steps ahead of his brain.

The colonel raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Then why were you assigned here, pilot?" An emphasis on the final word stressed the oddity of Wes's situation.

"Ahhhhh... er, well..."

"I'm waiting, Major." Wes hadn't thought it was possible for the security officer to look more scornful or impatient, but somehow he managed both.

"Ummmmm... I lost a bet, sir. The consequence is that I had to take this assignment."

The colonel stared at him in silence for several seconds. "I see. Well, it is true I've never known pilots to be credited with great common sense, though I am not sure which demonstrates the greater idiocy, getting yourself into such a position, or admitting to it voluntarily. Your duty for tonight, Major Janson, is to watch that door, and that is what you will do. That is all you will do. If I am unsatisfied with the manner in which you fulfill this duty, you will be back for another chance, and possibly several more, until you get it right. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, I understand very well." Wes swallowed his frustration and offended pride at the man's imperious manner, knowing any sign of it would only get him in bigger trouble.

"Good. Carry on. I will be back periodically, and if you are not alert at your post, I promise you will not appreciate the consequences." The colonel turned and, with a surprising grace, marched off down the long corridor back into the base.

Wes continued to stand at attention, just in case the stuffy officer turned around for any parting shot. After he had disappeared and the sound of his firm footsteps had faded, Wes slumped, cursed, and collapsed back into his uncomfortable chair. Now it was really going to be a long night.

Continued in Part 5...