Chapter 18

[] 

All four members of Gamma wing saluted me, and Martuchi, Le'Mone, and Taylor turned and walked out of my office. Marshall paused for a moment before following. His expression throughout the meeting had confused me. From the look on his face, you could have thought I had just demoted him. <I guess he doesn't think he can handle his own wing. Ah well. He'll get used to it.> As soon as the door closed behind him, though, I heard someone celebrating. 

I sat down again and thought back over the morning that had just passed. I had met with every pilot in my squadron to detail the new squadron organisation, with extra time spent with the flight leaders, Staff Sergeant Nielsen and Sergeant O'Connel, to discuss tactical and logistical details. That had been an interesting meeting, and quite educational. <Learned more about how to run a squadron from those two guys arguing with each other than I could have ever learned on my own. It's a good thing they didn't ask my opinion for a bit... I wouldn't have had one.>Each of my pilots, except Marshall, had seemed quite happy with the new arrangements. DeMuth, though he no longer had his own wing, was still effectively in charge of Beta wing, so he was content, and Rice was ecstatic about her promotion and new responsibilities. She was a little irked that she wouldn't be joining her crew until the next patrol rotation, but she didn't want to miss the ceremony this evening either. 

Theta Flight was going to be running their last patrol together while the rest of us dealt with the awards. It was better that way. They didn't have to sit through a whole ordeal that celebrated a battle they didn't get to fight in. Of course, next time, I was planning on having the entire squadron 'in the air'. We'd lost men that could have been saved if we hadn't been so badly outnumbered. Nine Veritechs may not seem like much, but it would have made a huge difference. 

I broke my mind from such a painful train of thought and gazed around my office. It was now my office, and it looked it, though not to a casual observer. The small pictures, the arrangement of my desk, the screen saver, and the bookshelves were all filled to my own taste. The bookshelves were not filled with tactical and technical manuals, but with my favourite literature. Mostly, they were a collection of works by Edgar Allen Poe and other authors that followed his style. 

I thought back to that morning, pulling my favourite collection of Poe stories from the shelf. <Once upon a midnight dreary...> it read. That's about as far as I got. 

[] 

I woke up with a start, crying, "Nevermore!" <That damned dream again! Somehow I've got to get away from it.> Someone was knocking on my office door. I checked my watch: 12:08. 

"Just a minute," I called, pulling myself out of the chair. <Damned thing is too comfortable now. Maybe I should go get the old one back.> 

When I opened the door, I was greeted by a familiar face. She was still wearing that red jump suit, which nicely complemented her olive skin and raven black hair. <Long hair. Obviously not a pilot.> I blinked wearily at her, and she replied, "Lieutenant Kay Landers?" 

I nodded and she continued, "I'm Sergeant Tamara Sam'di of S&R. I have some supplies for you, if you'll just sign here." After handing me a clipboard and pen, she pulled a handful of packages from her push cart, then paused and queried, "Err... Where do you want it put?" 

I sighed, "Oh, put it anywhere," returning her clipboard. 

"I don't want to interfere, but are you OK?" 

I gave her a tired smile, "I'm fine, Sergeant... just tired." 

"I'm glad to hear it. I wonder if I might ask you a question?" 

I looked at her, trying to force my mind into operation. 

"About Izabelle Fate, are she and Lieutenant Braywater... Are they an item?" I felt my eyes glaze a bit, <What? What's Thallin up to now?> "You know..." she trailed off, looking a bit nervous suddenly. 

Then she picked it up again, firing off her words. "You don't have to answer of course, I just thought it might be why Lieutenant Braywater was ordering such nice stuff for you guys. I mean, nobody else gets half the priority Nighthawks do, and often they are far superior in rank. Which reminds me," she paused, kneeling to the packages she had set down on the deck. "Lieutenant Braywater ordered these for you specially. You might want to put them in some water before they die." She stood up again, holding a full bouquet of mixed flowers. She continued, still talking rapid fire, "Well, I'd better go, you know, duty calls and all. If you need anything, remember my name - like I said, Special priority." Then she snapped a quick salute and disappeared out the door. 

"But... wait. Ah, screw it." I looked at the bouquet and noticed a small piece of paper set amongst the stems. The writing upon it read, "Sorry about what I did. Can I make it up to you in some way?" <That's sweet... Hold on. An item? Izi and Thallin. Flowers. I think I'd better speak to both of them soon,> I thought, closing the door. 

I tried to go back to reading my book, but my mind was already in motion. I just couldn't keep the memories from flooding back at me, tormenting me with faces and conversations. 

[] 

It was now approaching eighteen hundred hours, and it was almost time to make my way down to the banquet hall I had reserved for the evening. The brass had thought I was making an awfully big deal out of this whole thing, but they couldn't complain. They wouldn't be alive if we hadn't fought so well yesterday. They owed us something at the very least. They complained a bit at first, but when I told them that they and the bridge crew were also invited, they shut up. They wanted to congratulate one particular fellow in person: David Marshall. 

I checked my uniform one last time, it was clean and pressed, and I had a bright red scarf tied around my neck. Checking my watch, I thought, <Alright. Let's see what I've forgotten.> I laid a hand on my computer terminal, <Invitation sent to Braywater and Fate, since I haven't been able to speak with either of them today.> I picked up a few wrapped packages, <The awards for the ceremony.> I cracked an evil smile as I grabbed a large, rolled up poster, <My special present for Marshall.> I looked around the room, trying to remember the last thing I needed. I couldn't. <That must be everything, then.>I left my office and started walking towards the city. 

Nestled between the pages of a black leather-bound tome, resting in its place on my bookshelf, were several small pieces of paper. All in order. All the notes I would need for the presentation speech I had prepared. 

[] 

When I arrived at the banquet hall, it was about five 'til. The place wasn't quite full of people, but it was close enough. Every pilot in the Nighthawks, with the exception of the old Theta wing, half of the technical crew, and about a third of the upper level brass on the ship were in attendance. <Quite a showing! I'm surprised so many of the crew showed. The party's not quite for them, but, then again, it's free food.>I made my way through the hall, greeting a few familiar faces and introducing myself to any of the brass that looked interesting. A few of them glared at the red fabric decorating my neck, but I didn't care. This was my party and my squadron. By the time I worked myself up to the front of the hall, it was after 18:00. Time to begin. Others had reached the same conclusion and were making their way towards any available seats. The pilots had reserved spots up front. 

I stepped up to the podium, moving quietly to make sure the thing didn't squeal, and scanned the crowd while the room quieted. I saw Izabelle Fate ,<wonder of all wonders,> in the second row with the members of her wing. Our guests of honour: Rice, Martuchi, Marshall, and Nielsen, were sitting front row and center, right next to the bridge crew and brass. Marshall was sitting right next to the Ops Officer, and was looking more than a little nervous. She obviously didn't seem to mind him, and was paying more attention to me. 

Placing the awards inside the podium, I glanced around one more time. Everyone was quiet and all eyes were on me. <Oh shit... What am I doing up here?> I gulped. <I sure hope those public speaking classes I took were up to snuff.> I reached into my pocket for my speech. I had worked on it every spare second I had, and it was as good a speech as I could write. It wasn't there. I checked my other pocket... The inside pocket... The handful of things I had brought in with me. My notes were nowhere to be found. <Oh my god... I forgot my speech!> A few people had started whispering in the back, and a few of the brass were glaring at me. Commander Hayes was snickering softly. <Shit! Come up with something... Fast.>I leaned toward the microphone, dead serious, "Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen... <Idea!> I hate long speeches, don't you?" I asked, cheering my voice. "We all know why we're here, and you don't need me to go on and on about the same old thing for an hour before we get down to business, do you? Of course not! Well let's get started then: Sergeant Rice!" 

She smiled and slapped Martuchi on the back as she stood and approached the podium. When she got reasonably close, she turned, stood at attention and saluted crisply to the officers in the front row. <She knows better than I do.>I grabbed the mike and one of the boxes from the podium and walked over. I leaned close and whispered, "You want it formal or simple, Sergeant?" 

"Formal, Sir," she replied, turning crisply toward me. 

"Right then." I backed off, then, louder, "Sergeant Christina Rice, in recognition of your able service to the Robotech Defence Force, I would like to present to you: A silver star. Wear it with pride." I gave her a crisp salute and handed her the box. It was mostly plastic, with a clear face showing the star and its corresponding ribbon resting on the felt inside. 

She smiled oddly and glanced down at my scarf before returning my salute with a, "Thank you, Sir." Then she returned to her seat. 

I turned and stepped back to the podium, and snapped, "Staff Sergeant Nielsen!" 

"Yes Sir!" He announced when he reached the same spot Rice had stood upon. 

Again, I leaned close and whispered, "Formal or simple, Sergeant?" 

"Formal, Sir." He said, a little bit too loud. 

I nodded and announced, "Staff Sergeant Luke Nielsen, also in recognition of your able service to the Robotech Defence Force, I am honoured to present to you: A silver star. Keep up the good work." I gave him a salute of his own and handed him his own box. 

He saluted me crisply and almost yelped, "Thank you, Sir," before returning to his seat. 

I grimaced after him and returned to the podium. "Sergeant Martuchi!" 

He almost ran to the podium. He got close enough that I didn't have to step away from it. 

Once again, I whispered, "Do you want it formal or simple, Martuchi?" 

He grinned at me and said, "Simple, if you would." 

"Righto," I winked. Then I grinned broadly, "Sergeant Anthony Martuchi, you earned this. Here's a silver star for you, too." We went through the normal exchange of salutes and award and he walked back to his seat. 

That disturbed the brass some, but I didn't worry. If they had wanted it done their way, they would have done it themselves. One more award to be given and that was it, I hoped. 

I turned my voice cold and called, "Sergeant Marshall!" 

He walked up to the podium carefully, wary of the chill gaze I was directing at him. I did my best not to allow even a mere trace of a smile touch my lips. It was hard to do, but I think I managed. 

He went through the same motions Rice had performed with a "Yes, Sir!" 

I picked up his award and walked carefully towards him, keeping that hand behind my back, trying to look very formal in my stance. <You don't get a choice, David.> "Sergeant... David... Marshall. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty, and, through your actions, you saved the SDF-1 and all aboard it. It is, therefore, my honour and my pleasure to present to you:" I paused, bringing the award from behind my back so he could see inside the case. "The Distinguished... Flying... Cross!" I couldn't help myself any longer and my smile almost cracked my face. 

Marshall's eyes bugged out, staring at the beautiful award contained within the tacky plastic container I was holding. His jaw had gone slack and he was trying to mouth words, but he was making no sound. Even if he had, though, I wouldn't have heard it. Most of the pilots and crew let loose a wild yell, whooping their congratulations for him. 

I turned towards the crew and glared. "Sit down! And shut up!" I yelled into the microphone, causing it to squeal painfully. It had the desired effect. They were immediately silent. 

I turned back to David, who was still staring at the box in his hand. I whispered, "Marshall... Marshall." He glanced up and closed his mouth. I smiled at him and said, into the microphone, "I give you my congratulations, Sergeant. Keep up the good work." I gave him a smart, military salute and he was about to start his way down to his seat again when I heard an "Excuse me" from the audience. 

I looked towards the source, and saw that Ensign Vanessa Leeds was now standing, looking tentatively up towards us. She glanced over at Commander Hayes and then at Captain Gloval before continuing, "Since this ceremony has already lost all semblance of formality, would you mind if I made a presentation too?" She made a few steps towards the podium, and the bridge crew stood up and followed her. Commander Hayes was now holding something about two feet square. 

I pondered this for a moment, then nodded. "By all means. Here you go." I handed her the microphone and stood back. 

Marshall was looking like he wanted to run for his life, but the look Vanessa gave him rooted him to the spot. She walked up, stood next to him, and faced the audience. The rest of the bridge crew came up and stood to either side of them, looking kindly upon poor David Marshall. 

Vanessa spoke up, "Err... I, er, I mean, we wanted to give you this photograph as a thank-you present for what you did for us." Commander Hayes handed her the item. It was a picture frame with an image within it. I glanced down at the poster I had brought with me, <It can't be... not the same picture! Damn!> She handed the frame to him, and his face adopted a similar expression to the one it had held before. "It's a picture of you knocking the officer's pod away from the bridge before it could open fire." 

Captain Gloval put his hand on David's shoulder, and he looked up at the Captain. I couldn't see through Gloval's moustache, but I knew he had to be smiling at him. 

Then the bridge crew stood back and, all in unison, saluted David for his valour and victory. Then they filed back to their seats, leaving Marshall standing on the stage, looking dumbfounded and holding a Flying Cross in one hand and a picture of a Valkyrie playing football in the other. I walked over to him, looked him in the eyes and smiled. Then I turned to the audience, brought the mike to my lips and said, "Now that's over and done with... Let's eat!" 

Forward to Chapter 19.
Back to Chapter 17. 

Return to the Kay Landers contents page.