Wing Commander #09 Pilgrim Stars by Peter Telep

Author:Peter Telep [Telep, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Wing Commander
ISBN: 9780061059865
Publisher: HarperEntertainment
Published: 1999-08-18T16:00:00+00:00

Exercise extreme caution out there. Divert civilian and commercial pilots to Enyo where possible. Notify any ships in need of refueling that we will accommodate that need as necessary."

"How long will this last?"

"Vega's a big place. And Aristee is a stubborn woman. I think we'll be anchoring here for a very long time."

"Have you received any word from Commodore Taggart?"

"I'm betting that when we hear from Aristee, we'll hear from him. Probably not before."

"Yes, sir." She ended the transmission.

"Sir? Contact bearing three-two-four by five-one-nine," Radar Officer Falk said. "Designate Bravo two-five, Wren-class commercial transport. Range: two-one-five Ks. Velocity: one-two-five KPS and slowing."

"And the party begins," Gerald said, then rose and skirted his way back to his command chair. "Hail them, Mr. Falk. Report perimeter violation of standard no-fly zone. If that captain gives you an argument, patch him through to me."

Blair shook his head as Maniac released an especially loud yawn. "I ever tell you about the time I took Casey up in my Rapier trainer? That was a date that blondie will never forget. Shit, even I remember it."

Maniac's words echoed hollowly through the brig, and for once in his life Blair truly wished he were alone. He had been sitting in his cell for seven days since first coming aboard. Paladin had been in his company for the first two days, then the Marine guards had fetched him, and Blair had not seen or heard from the commodore since.

He and Maniac spent most of their time talking. Blair told Maniac stories about his boyhood, stories of farming, of his first experience with his holographic assistant, Merlin, and of his first kiss in preschool. But this heart-warming, general audience stuff only inspired fits of yawning from his wingman. Living up to his reputation, Maniac related tales of his numerous and varied sexual encounters, he the virile hero whose presence struck down women with an overpowering desire to tear the clothes from their bodies and throw themselves at him. The stories grew more graphic, the women more beautiful, the truth lost in all of that heavy breathing. Marshall's call sign should have been NymphoManiac .

By the third day, Blair's request for a shower and clean clothes had finally been honored. The guards had kept their weapons trained on them even while in the latrine and afterward had forced them to wear Pilgrim robes. Maniac had swapped a few insults with the guards, but for the most part they ignored his crude comments.

With the passage of each day, marked by a report from Merlin and the switching on or off of the lights, Blair grew more anxious and began to doubt that they would ever be released. Surely he had better things to do with his time than die in a miserable cell in the company of Todd Marshall. Even now, as Maniac launched into another of his tales, which somehow involved two people in the cramped confines of a Rapier cockpit, Blair rocked slowly on his cot and thought of

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