Julius left Laina’s quarters with somber feelings—mixed with anxiety. He realized his operation was going through a major transition. Not only was he going to lose Laina, but also he had to rush the new pilots up to the position of primary assault wing. Although he felt confidence in that decision, he could not help but begin feeling the burden of weight on his shoulders of trying to keep the whole operation together by himself.
He arrived at Reece’s quarters only to find nobody home. He went to an adjacent pilot’s quarters and rang the buzzer. The door to the room opened and he found one of the new pilots greeting him with a cigar in his mouth.
“Yes, sir,” he said, puffing a plume of smoke in his direction.
The pilot had an audible accent, sounding like old Irish. His eyes squinted as the light from the hallway penetrated the darkness of his room. The dark circles under his eyes told the story of a man who probably stayed up a bit too late.
“Mac, right?” Julius asked.
“Yes, that’s me, sir,” Mac said.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, sir. I never sleep. Insomnia… had it all my life,” Mac said while rubbing his eyes.
“That was a nice maneuver you and Murdock played at the end. Me and Reece were stupid for falling for it, though.”
“Well, I’m hoping the enemy is at least as dumb as your lot.”
“Surely,” Mac said, apparently ignoring or not getting the sarcasm.
“Where’s Reece?”
“Oh, I heard him say something about getting a stiff drink. Not sure where on this boat you could find one of those… I told him to share me the whereabouts of such booty though.”
“Only one place to get that. As you were, pilot,” Julius said.
“Oh wait lad, err Captain I mean,” Mac said, stopping Julius. “Try not to be too hard on Reece when you see him. He tends to take this leadership thing a bit on the hard side.”
“I’m not going to admonish him, pilot—actually, quite the opposite. Try and get some rest; you’ll need it soon.”
Julius headed to the only place that booze would be available: the observation lounge. He stepped out of the elevator and walked a short distance into the deck before spotting Reece staring out into space; he noted his half-filled drink sitting at a nearby table.
“Hello, pilot,” Julius said.
Reece nodded a silent greeting.
“You and the pilots did well today. I was impressed at how well you did without any preparation.”
Reece turned to look at him with a perplexed look. “You know, you always seem to tell me the opposite of what I expect. You seem to think we do well, even though we almost get caught by Martian Guardians or get our tails singed by you and your pilots. I get the feeling you would give a medal to a dead man over the one that survived.”
“There is some merit to that,” Julius said. “The man that didn’t die already received the reward of survival. The medal on the dead man is there to pay tribute to his surviving kin, nothing else. But I didn’t come here to philosophize or admonish you. I think you and the pilots are ready to take permanent positions as the primary assault wing of our operation. I’m moving you to an officer’s rank of lieutenant, where you will be the leader of our assault wing. Your wing will be the new Wolf Squadron.”
“But… I…” Reece struggled then brightened. “Thank you, sir. What about the rest of your squadron—am I commanding them as well?”
“The existing pilots are needed on the ship. They have duty stations here that need to be filled, and we are stretched pretty thin, so I can’t afford to lose them.”
“Oh. So we’re being promoted because we’re a little more expendable, eh?”
“No, Reece. I need a permanent assault wing. You guys have proven yourselves as likely better pilots than what I have. Everyone on this ship is going to be doing the duties they are best at. Murdock and his pilots are better as engineers and damage-control specialists. I need you guys in the role you are best at. Unless of course you feel you and the men are better at something else?”
“No… no, of course not. I just didn’t…” His voice trailed off.
“Then congratulations, Lieutenant. Now, we need to go over our next mission. We have an assault planned in two days on a convoy leaving Martian orbit. We expect only three scout escorts and it will be off-peak hours, so it should be a milk run for you. I copied to your quarters all the details we have on the convoy. I want you to formulate a plan of attack and have it for me ready to review in the morning. Include the Sea Wolf as an available resource in your plan, but I expect you and the pilots to do most of the work. I don’t want any questions tonight; bring them to me in the morning. Understood?”
“Yes, Captain.” Reece saluted.
Julius returned the salute. “On your way then, you have a lot to plan.”