Wing Commander IV: Speradon System

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.

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 Speradon commanding the fleet action. As you know, we’re here to raid a shipyard, but there are several other targets we’d like to acquire first.

Maverick: Well, I’m ready to review ’em, Admiral.

Wilford: Now, this is a testing site within an asteroid belt where Confed shakes down their newly-built fighters. We’d love to confiscate a few. Second, the ringed planet in this system is orbited by a weapons-manufacturing plant: another prime target. And, finally, we’ve zeroed in on a carrier – poorly guarded – undergoing some ad-hoc repairs near the outermost planet. Now, 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: Now, this asteroid belt hides a testing ground for Confed’s newly-built fighters. Now, one hitch is that they’ve got an electronic moat around the site, including a sophisticated radar device which should probably be your initial target… if you can sneak up on it. Now, once you’ve disabled the fighters, we’ll send in a capship from our fleet to pick them up.

Hawk: If we track on their radar, they’ll have all kinds of reinforcements to check us. I wish we could fly invisible.

Maverick: Our leech guns should disable these fighters. All right, people, let’s go.

Wilford: The weapons plant orbiting this ringed planet has quite a little security blanket. Now, they’re sure to see you coming on their radar. But, if you manage to clear a path, your marines can be shuttled in to take control of it. Then we’ll be able to collect some of the equipment that our forces urgently need.

Maverick: All right, let’s go to work.

Dekker: We’re in, boss.

Wilford: A Concordia-class carrier is undergoing ad-hoc repairs near the outermost planet. A skeleton crew maintains her, but they haven’t off-loaded any equipment: fighters, weapons, spare parts – could be a rich target, Colonel, if you can get past her radar and fighter patrols. Take out her turrets and engines. Then we’ll send in the Hopkins from the fleet to take over.

Maverick: All right, get to it, people.

Wing 2: Second wing heading out, Colonel.

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: You’re cleared, Colonel. Oh, I hear Pliers is doing cart-wheels across the launch deck, so take care not to run him over. (Success)

Hawk: Your friend’s really ticking me off.

Maverick: Let me take a wild guess – Maniac?

Hawk: You know, he doesn’t quite have the rep you have. And, as far as I’m concerned, he really hasn’t proven himself. He ought to have a little more humility and learn how to fly support, instead of going off and doing his own thing.

Maverick: Well, you want me to talk to him?

Hawk: Yeah, I think that would be a little bit better than me hauling his butt over the coals.

Maverick: <chuckles> Well, that would certainly get his attention, but let me see what I can do.

Maverick: <laughs> I think you take him too seriously, Colonel. Maniac’s there when you need him, that’s all that really matters.

Hawk: Then you better tell him to keep his distance. Because sooner or later, he’s gonna find himself on his face.

Maverick: Point taken.

Sosa: You’re cleared, Colonel. Oh, I hear Pliers is doing cart-wheels across the launch deck, so take care not to run him over. (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.

Maverick: Oh, thanks. Everybody here? All right.

Wilford: Colonel, for a long time we’ve been trying to suss out an equipment supply line we believed might skirt the edges of this system.

Wilford: Well, it looks like we’ve got a break: a huge convoy is coming through the line. Now, I’m pulling you off the sorties we discussed earlier and I’m assigning you to the advance forces raiding this convoy. Now, we’d like to insert a few marines aboard the largest of the capital ships so they can take control of it.

Dekker: Sounds like we oughtta be getting hazard pay for this.

Wilford: You’re working for the wrong side if you’re looking for bonuses.

Maverick: Dekker, we’ll use the insertion pods to deliver you and your men – they’ll think it’s just another missile.

Dekker: Don’t forget about picking us up, boss.

Wilford: Now, ships from our fleet will shuttle in larger forces so we can complete the raid. You’re the shock troops. We go or don’t go on your say-so. Understood?

Maverick: Yes, sir.

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

Maverick: All right, who wants to tractor in that satellite?

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

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

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.

Dekker: We’re in, boss.

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, Hawk’s about ready to knock your teeth down your throat unless you drop the “I’m-an-ace” attitude.

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: Finally feels like we’re on the right track, kid.

Maverick: I’m listening.

Pliers: Well, we can bang the metal a coupla places, open up a little more space, maybe squeeze in another missile or two. Might take a couple clicks off the old speedo, but it sure would be nice to have an ace-in-the-hole, huh? Whaddya say?

Maverick: I like the sound of that.

Pliers: Good.

Maverick: Well, thanks anyway, but I’d rather have the speed.

Pliers: Fine.

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: All right, Lieutenant.

Sosa: I’ve given Admiral Wilford a report of what occurred during the last mission, sir. He indicates that another convoy is now moving through the supply line, and there are re-targeting plans in the works.

Maverick: The same mission, in other words.

Dekker: One more time in the spam-cans.

Sosa: Well, you have another option, Colonel. The Admiral is launching a direct attack on the shipyard. Now, some Confed pilots have indicated they wish to defect – they’ll need cover. Now, the first wave from our fleet will be clearing a path, but our task would be escorting the defecting pilots back to the Intrepid.

Maniac: Well. It won’t be easy telling them from the enemy.

Hawk: We could use those fighters.

Sosa: Colonel, the Admiral feels you’re in the best position to decide which operation makes the best use of the Intrepid’s resources.

Maverick: Prep the insertion pods. I don’t believe in starting something I can’t finish. Let’s go after that convoy.

Maverick: Let’s go for that shipyard and liberate some fighters. All right, let’s move.

Maverick: Lieutenant.

Sosa: I’ve given Admiral Wilford a report… of our progress. He’s launching a fleet attack on the shipyard. Some Confed pilots have indicated that they wish to defect, but they will need cover. So the first wave from our fleet will be clearing a path – but your task would be escorting the defecting pilots back to the Intrepid… sir.

Maniac: Wait, wait, wait, wait! Won’t be easy telling them from the enemy.

Maverick: But that’s what we came for, isn’t it? To get ourselves some fighters? Let’s get to it!

Dekker: We’re in, boss.

Sosa: All right, I’m downloading the new nav point for you, sir.

Dekker: We’re ready for re-insertion, boss. I’m dying to see what’s in that tub.

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

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!