Wing Commander IV: Circe System

Dekker: I never met a fly-boy who could hump a 60-kilo war-pack across 30 klicks of double-gravity terrain. You guys are soft where it counts.

Maniac: Oh, we’re soft? Let me tell you about soft. I took a marine on a little joy-ride once. I jammed the ’stick, took the skyscraper climb – huh – cut the juice, re-ignited halfway through our fall, I flipped into a bank-and-roll, a little 360 – I was just warming up. I look in the back – the grunt has tossed his breakfast, passed out. Just from taking a quarter-G to five Gs. The rejects of Space Academy? They make marines.

Dekker: What a crock! You go for the cockpit because you can’t cut it up-close and personal.

Maniac: Up-close and personal, I hear marines have no staying power.

Dekker: Marines go all night long and then some.

Maniac: Not with their sabres extended.

Dekker: I’ll show you some staying power.

Maniac: You want a piece of me?

Dekker: I’ll kick your butt.

Maniac: Come on!

Maniac: All right, all right, all right! Thanks for backing me up, Colonel.

Maverick: What are you talking about? You brought it on yourself.

Maniac: I thought fighter jocks were supposed to stick together. I, for one, stand behind my uniform.

Maverick: Yeah, when you’re not disgracing it.

Maniac: See what kind of back-up you get next time I fly with you.

Maverick: Hey. Hey, hey, hey! Look! That first punch is going to buy you a trip to the brig, mister.

Dekker: I am sick of this guy running off at the mouth. You need a dose of Dekker medicine.

Maverick: Hey, look, if it’s that easy to get your goat, Dekker, how are you gonna keep your cool in the field?

Dekker: You space jocks all stick together, that’s right. I’ll remember that the next time I’m out there risking my neck for you.

Maniac: I could have taken him.

Maverick: <snorts>

Maniac: What? C’mon!

Maverick: Hey, now. Will you please…

Maverick: Lieutenant. Everybody here? All right.

Wilford: Colonel, I’m here in the Circe System, commanding the fleet action. Circe V, some of the bloodiest fighting I’ve seen since Repleetah days. There are a number of fires to put out here.

Maverick: Ready to review ’em, Admiral.

Wilford: The mercs have launched a tank offensive. Their target is the legal government’s northern climactic control centre, which keeps the planet’s polar ice cap in check. Now, destroying the complex will trigger massive floods. On Circe VII, we’re evacuating an island continent because of a chemical air strike launched there. Now, some of our ships are too large to land on the planet’s surface. So we’re using shuttles to bring people to them, and these need air cover. Finally, there seems to be a concentration of enemy activity near a particular jump point, but it isn’t clear what’s going on there. I’m downloading mission specifics and a pre-recorded briefing for each operation. I’ll leave you to size up the tactical situation, Colonel, and make the decision on how to proceed. Good luck.

Wilford: Once you reach planetary orbit, you can head down to the surface for your attack. Shutting down the ground assault on Circe V will require maximum fire-power. Keep that control installation from being overrun. Wilford out.

Maverick: Okay, let’s do it.

Wilford: Since there are so many people to move, we’re using frigates in the Circe VII evacuation. Now, these large vessels cannot land on the planet’s surface, so we’ve devised a shuttling procedure to get the refugees up to them. Now, these shuttles are, obviously, quite vulnerable going up and down that sub-orbital thread. We’d like you to cover their movement. These people have had enough problems without the enemy taking pot shots at them.

Maverick: Go to it, folks.

Shuttle: Greetings, Colonel.

Shuttle: Good to see you, Colonel.

Shuttle: Howdy, Colonel.

Wilford: These particular waypoints – leading to a jump-point – have witnessed a concentration of enemy activity. Now, our data is sketchy at best: it isn’t clear what’s out there, but they’re moving around a lot. So, be on the alert for bogies at every point. And if you find them, hurt them. There’s no excuse for their crimes.

Maverick: Time to earn our pay.

Maniac: I’m flying ‘safe-and-sane’ just for you, Colonel. Did you really think I’d forget how you let Dekker show me up?

Sosa: Ah! Great work, Colonel. You’re cleared. (Success)

Panther: Just the man I wanted to see.

Maverick: Well. So what’s on your mind, Panther?

Panther: Your friend – the one with the over-active glands.

Maverick: <sigh> Maniac.

Panther: He seems to have a hard time understanding the words “no” and “not interested”. Do you get my meaning?

Maverick: Knowing Maniac, I think I do.

Panther: Well, if you don’t do anything about it, I will. And my way will hurt a lot more.

Maverick: All right, I’ll talk to him. Not that it’s done much good in the past.

Panther: I wouldn’t wait too long if I were you. I’m getting ready to use him for target practice.

Maverick: Well, I would like to avoid bloodshed if we could. I’ll get on it.

Maverick: <chuckles> Come on, Colonel. I think it’ll mean a lot more coming from you.

Panther: Fair warning then.

Sosa: Ah! Great work, Colonel. You’re cleared. (Success)

Maverick: What is this?

Pliers: One of our MIPs.

Maverick: MIPs?

Pliers: Manned Insertion Pod… a little gimmick I stole about a year ago from some Confed testing site when no one was lookin’.

Maverick: Never heard of it.

Pliers: ’course not. Takes them guys for ever to release new technology, with all their red tape about safety and such.

Maverick: Definitely not for claustrophobic types.

Pliers: Oh, it’s a snug fit. But it’s just the thing for squeezin’ folks into a spot where a shuttle might be too big, or attract too much attention. See that? Latches right onto the target and laser cuts a hole so the guy inside can crawl right through.

Maverick: Lock and launch procedure?

Pliers: Just like firin’ an ImRec. ’course the fella in there has got to release the safety first. And he’s pretty much on his own with minimal steerage.

Maverick: Minimal?

Pliers: Enough to dock at the target, and then fly back out to where you can tractor him in. And it gets pulled right back to one of your hard points, so you can fire it again if you need to.

Maniac: Anyway, I fire a couple of missiles way over their heads, right? So they think I just can’t aim. Then, when I got my last heat seeker – BAM! They never know what hit ’em. They think it’s an accident.

Maverick: Yeah! Probably ’cause it was an accident.

Maniac: Excuse me – the boy is trying to learn ways to break out of the pack. You know, to find an edge. Now, he can learn to fly with shields up like grandma by listening to you. Or he could push the envelope a little bit.

Maverick: <chuckles> The only envelope you’ve ever pushed is the one addressed to common sense.

Catscratch: Well, he… he does have quite a kill score, sir.

Maverick: Maniac leads a charmed life. There’s one on every ship, but only one. Relying on luck, like he does, is a poor way to reach old age.

Maniac: There you have it, kid. You can reach old age – like a certain someone we know – and um… maybe get yourself a gold watch. Or, you can fly the stick with a little style, huh, little ’tude, and make a name for yourself. Tough call.

Maverick: But the choice is yours, Catscratch. Want your name on a gold watch… or a coffin?

Maniac: You gonna finish that?

Catscratch: Um… no.

Maniac: Really? What is that stuff?

Catscratch: I don’t know.

Sosa: Sir, I think you’re going to find this very interesting.

Circean: Colonel, I just want to tell you how much your efforts have meant to all of us here in Circe.

Maverick: Just doing our duty. I’ll pass your thanks on to the crew.

Circean: Oh, we have something else we’d like to offer you. During the Kilrathi War, we built a pretty extensive eavesdropping web around the outer edges of this system. This civil war has narrowed our focus greatly, so there’s been little time to process what the web’s picked up: it’s mostly been archived. Parsing this encrypted stuff isn’t a priority for us, but maybe you’ll find some use for it. It’s a hefty data-squirt, Lieutenant. Hope you have the bandwidth.

Sosa: Oh, yes! Open the floodgates.

Maverick: Keep me posted on this.

Sosa: Yes, sir.

Maverick: Good. Oh, great.

Wilford: Colonel, I’m going to take you away from your missions list. Now, we believe we’ve discovered the enemy’s main supply route. Now, since the Circean government is planning a new offensive as we speak, it’ll do a lot of good if you can shut down this supply line now. Here’s the nav-map.

Maniac: Right through a nebula!

Wilford: Now, that’s why we haven’t been able to find it till now. Convoys have been passing through there like clockwork.

Maverick: It’s time to cut it off.

Wilford: Chop it into little pieces, Colonel. Oh, one other thing. We’re picking up some very odd red-shift signals from a small artificial satellite circling the sixth planet. Now, we’d like to pluck this thing out of its orbit – take a closer look at it. Good luck.

Maverick: Who wants to tractor in that satellite?

Catscratch: I’ll volunteer for that one, sir.

Maverick: Any other takers? All right, Catscratch, looks like you get the milk run. Let’s go, people.

Wingman: What do you say, Colonel? We going to scrub our original mission?

Catscratch: Ejecting now, Colonel!

Sosa: Okay, you gotta cover him, sir! I’m sending out a ship to tractor him in.

Catscratch: I do this for the Border Worlds, and for Velina Sosa.

Sosa: Let me play you a recording, sir.

Catscratch: I do this for the Border Worlds, and for Velina Sosa.

Sosa: He went down with his ship, sir. He, um… he gave everything. You have clearance.

Maniac: Hey! Hey! Get over here! Get over here! What did I say?

Catscratch: Well, I– I…

Maniac: No, what did I tell you to…?

Catscratch: I’m really sorry, sir.

Maverick: I just want to know how you got in that predicament – it was supposed to be a milk run.

Catscratch: I suppose I got a little too clever, sir. I fired off a coupla missiles as decoys like Maniac was talking about, only I… I missed when it really counted, sir.

Maverick: I should have known. If I ever hear you handing out advice again, I will personally put a big red bull’s-eye on your back and declare it open season.

Maniac: Hey, I didn’t tell him he should do any of that stuff.

Maverick: And while we’re at it, Panther’s about ready to perform some below-the-belt surgery on you unless you can keep your testosterone levels in check.

Maniac: Well, I…

Maverick: Let me tell you something: there’s a lower butt-head tolerance around here, old buddy. You’d better get with the program.

Maniac: I’ll check with you later.

Maverick: You know that stunt cost us – cost the Border Worlds – quite a lot.

Catscratch: I’m really sorry, sir.

Maverick: If we weren’t so desperate for pilots, I’d ground you in a minute, but… consider yourself on probation… for the rest of the decade.

Maverick: There’s something particularly cruel, when combat takes the life of someone… so young. In this strange war we fight – which doesn’t yet have a name – some may think that Catscratch will be forgotten. They’re wrong. He’ll stay in our hearts, always.

Pliers: Hey, got some good news, kid.

Maverick: I can always use some of that.

Pliers: Your Kilrathi pals were pretty helpful with my cloaker gadget.

Maverick: You got it working?

Pliers: Yeah, the cats showed me how to get some extra charges outta the crystal that runs it. Problem is, I only got one of them crystals left, so you can forget about having a wingman along. Flying next to a guy who ain’t cloaked kinda defeats the purpose anyway, right? And, of course, the crystal is still gonna burn out sooner or later – hopefully later. Personally, I’d like to see us raiding those mines where they dig up those crystals, but they’re pretty deep in Confed territory. Anyway, care to run with it kid?

Maverick: Make me invisible, Pliers.

Pliers: Your wish is my command, kid.

Maverick: Sorry, Pliers. If I can’t depend on it lasting for enough time, then getting stuck with no wingman to cover for me… I don’t think so.

Pliers: That’s the thanks I get for all my hard work.

Maverick: How ya doing?

Sosa: He… uh… he didn’t deserve to die.

Maverick: Nobody does – especially him.

Sosa: I know you tried – but…

Maverick: You wonder if I could have done more, so do I. It’s a question I’m going to be asking myself for a long, long time.

Sosa: He’s out there… along with my heart… both nothing more than space dust. People fly through it every day: they don’t even know it.

Maverick: During the last war I… I lost a loved one too. Matter of fact, I even punched out an old friend because of it. So if it makes you feel any better – go ahead.

Sosa: Go away… please.

Maverick: How ya doing?

Sosa: He went the distance for you, but you wouldn’t do the same for him.

Maverick: He would have understood.

Sosa: He put a lot of faith in you: blind faith.

Maverick: Careful, Lieutenant.

Sosa: Or what? You’ll punish me? What else can you really do? He’s out there – along with my heart – both nothing more than… space dust! People fly through it every day and don’t even know it.

Maverick: During the last war I… I lost a loved one too. Matter of fact, I even punched out an old friend because of it. So if it makes you feel any better – go ahead.

Sosa: Go away.

Maverick: 46 hours.

Hawk: 46! It’s only been 20 for me.

Maverick: What?

Hawk: Since I slept.

Maverick: No, I’m talking about how long it’s been since Captain Eisen left. He hasn’t sent a trans, has he?

Panther: Not a glitch… Hope he makes it.

Maverick: Boy, for our sake, I hope he does too. I get the feeling that data he’s carrying ain’t gonna cut it.

Hawk: Yeah, it’s really thin.

Panther: But he’ll be able to argue his case convincingly.

Maverick: Yeah? What if he argues in front of the wrong people?

Panther: What do you mean?

Maverick: Look, Confed’s a much bigger machine than any of us can possibly imagine. That bastard Seether – and whoever he’s working with – can marshal incredible resources.

Hawk: Sure: mercenaries, pirates, Confed craft, our craft…

Panther: The unmarked ships.

Maverick: Yeah. All without the rest of Confed even knowing about it.

Panther: And, meanwhile, we come off looking like the bad guys.

Hawk: You get pushed, you push back.

Maverick: Uh huh – giving them legitimate cause to gear up for an all-out war.

Panther: The Assembly votes in 5 days…

Maverick: Yeah, and they haven’t got a clue as to what’s really going down…

Panther: Okay, so tell me… How does our little boat fit in?

Maverick: We just gotta hope that Eisen gets to the right people.

Maverick: We get ready for the fight of our lives.

Hawk: Roger that.

Maverick: Thanks.

Maverick: Okay, good. Colonel. <sigh> All right, Lieutenant.

Sosa: I’ve given the Admiral a report of what occurred during the last mission, sir. Now, his response notes that the enemy pipeline is still flowing.

Maverick: <sigh> So it still needs shutting down.

Panther: It’s hard to beat the bad guys when they keep getting their supplies.

Sosa: Well, however, an enemy command-and-control centre has been located underground on Circe V. The Admiral’s giving you the option of delivering Lieutenant Colonel Dekker and his men for a precision strike.

Dekker: I’ve studied the schematics: if you can get us down there, we’ll need a few minutes to plant an implosion device that’ll turn the place into rubble.

Maverick: Well, it’s behind enemy lines, so a shuttle’s out of the question.

Hawk: Makes you wish you could fly invisible.

Maverick: We have to use the insertion pods.

Sosa: The Admiral stated that he’s got other Marines in the fleet who can handle this, so he requests that you make the call as to which operation makes the best use of the Intrepid’s resources, sir.

Maverick: <sigh> I don’t like starting something I can’t finish. Besides, we’ll contribute more to the offensive if we cut off the enemy’s supply line. Let’s go.

Maverick: Let’s go for the heart: we’ll deliver Dekker and his men down there and back. Let’s go.

Maverick: Okay, good. Colonel. <sigh> All right, Lieutenant.

Sosa: I’ve, um… I’ve given Admiral Wilford a report… of our progress. He informed me that an enemy command-and-control centre has been located underground on Circe V. The mission is to deliver Lieutenant Colonel Dekker and his men for a precision strike, sir.

Dekker: I’ve studied the schematics: if you can get us down there, we’ll need a few minutes to plant an implosion device that’ll turn the place into rubble.

Maverick: Oh boy, it’s behind enemy lines, so a shuttle’s out of the question.

Hawk: Makes you wish you could fly invisible.

Maverick: We’ll use the insertion pods to deliver Dekker and his men down there and back. All right, let’s go.

Pliers: Cloaker’s ready to go. You’re clear for take-off, kid. (Circe 4a)

Descent to Circe V

Dekker: It’s a cake-walk, Colonel, I’ll be done here in 60 seconds.

Sosa: All right, I’m downloading the new nav point for you and we’re sending Dekker and his men in a shuttle. Also – that Circean web data? – it contained Confed IFF codes! Should I download those to you now, sir?

Sosa: All right, I’m downloading the new nav point for you. <static> Also – that Circean web data? – it contained Confed IFF codes! Should I download those to you now, sir?

Dekker: We’re in, boss. Just keep those bogies away from me while I do my thing.

Dekker: Fire us in there, boss.

Catscratch alive:

Sosa: Good to have you back, sir. We’re shuttling pilots out to collect what’s in that capship. You’re cleared.

Sosa: Clearance, Colonel. We’re shuttling pilots out to collect what’s in that capship.

Sosa: Mayday, Colonel! The Intrepid’s come under heavy attack. Confed ships are swarming all over us. Look, we’ve been hit hard – we’re going down!

Miles: The famous hero of the Kilrathi War, also known as “The Heart of the Tiger”, was convicted of treason against the Confederation. No appeal will be allowed.

Soldier: Blindfold?

Maverick: No.

Soldier: Ready. Aim. Fire!