Starfire
Copyright© 2025 by UtIdArWa
Chapter 8
When Thad walked into the pilot’s lounge, he saw Lieutenant Commander Morse sitting in a dark, far corner, a half-finished beer in front of him. As Thad stepped up to the table, Morse looked up and squinted, “Who’s that?” he demanded in a gruff voice.
“It’s Thad Sawyer, sir. I want to talk to you if I could.”
“The answer is no, boy. I told you to stay away from the simulators, and I meant it. Plus, you made it worse by sending that little girl to trick me.”
“I didn’t send her; she was there on her own. But that isn’t what I’m here for. I need your advice.”
“Advice? None of you hotshots wants my advice. What could you possibly want from me?”
“That’s just it, sir. You know every pilot on the ship. You even know the wanna-be pilots who are training. I’m supposed to find 11 pilots to fly in my squadron.”
“Your squadron? Yeah, that’s right. Olivet decided to give one of them to you. Well, so what? What makes you think that I can, or am even willing to help you?”
“I was hoping that we could set the past aside. I do need your help. I have no clue what to look for in a pilot. I mean, I know myself and what I can do, but what do I need to fill out a squadron? What talents should I look for? Should I look for guys like me or something different? You’ve done this before, you know what’s available, who’s the best at what they do.”
For the next three hours and two refills, they discussed Thad’s preferences and Morse’s thoughts. Occasionally, they were interrupted when a wanna be pilot walked up looking for a position. When this happened, Morse wouldn’t say anything, but after they left, he would talk, in detail, about the qualities and faults of that person. This evaluation was not limited to flying, but also personalities and quirks. Thad found out a lot of spicy details about some people.
After Thad had reached his limit, both beer and information, he asked the question that had been on his mind for the past hour.
“Lieutenant Commander Morse, sir, could I ask another favor of you. Again, you don’t have to say yes, but please consider this.”
Morse looked at Thad, his eyes narrowed, “You can ask, boy, but it doesn’t mean I have to agree with what you say.”
Thad took a deep breath, “Sir, I would like for you to be my XO, my operations chief.”
Morse looked at him and didn’t say anything.
Finally, he slowly shook his head, “Boy, why? Why do you want to saddle yourself with a broken-down, blind rocket jockey like me? Everybody in the system has decided that I’m a useless drag on things. Even Sullivan and Olivet gave me the simulation center as a make-work job for the invalid. What makes you think I’d be of any help to you?”
“John, for the last three hours, you have told me more about every pilot on this bucket than anybody else possibly could. You have educated me on what makes a good fighter squadron and how to run it. I don’t care about your eyes. They aren’t what I need. I need you, I need your years and experience, and quite frankly, I need that badass, nasty attitude of yours. If I’m to keep a bunch of adrenaline addicted egomaniacs under control, I need you.”
Morse sat there with a startled expression on his face. After a minute or two, He whispered, “Can I get back to you on that, sir?”
It was at that point that Thad knew his answer. That ‘Sir’ told him the whole story. “Take all the time you need, John.”
Thad was surprised to see a tear trickling from the old war dog’s eye.
After Thad left Lieutenant Commander Morse, he pondered his next step. Curiosity got the better of him, and he decided he needed to look at “His” Starfire’s.
Thad stepped into the maintenance hangar. It was a vast open area with service bays lining each wall. There was little activity. As he walked down the center of the hangar, he looked at the several fighters that were in the bays. One caught his eye, and he walked over to it.
It wasn’t much different from the others, and Thad couldn’t say what it was about that particular ship, but he seemed drawn to it.
Walking around the ship, he lightly ran his hand on the surface, almost caressing it. “Beautiful,” he softly whispered.
“She is a pretty one, isn’t she?”
Thad was startled when the voice came from the open engine cowling. As he looked up, he saw a young man with flaming red hair and a smear of grease across his forehead, leaning out of the space, resting his chin on his crossed arms, and grinning down at Thad. “Howdy, I’m Barney, Barney Lambert.” He looked like he might be just barely a teenager, let alone fooling around in the engine compartment of a high-performance fighter.
“Howdy, Barney, I’m Thad Sawyer. I’m just snooping around, and this beauty caught my eye.”
From behind Thad, a new voice joined the conversation. “I thought I recognized you.”
Thad turned and was face-to-face with Chief Larson, the head of the ship’s maintenance. “Chief,” he stammered, “I, I, I,”
“Relax, boy, you haven’t done anything wrong yet. So, you’re Thad Sawyer, huh? I’ve read your file. Olivet sent it over yesterday. I’ve also had a report on you from Lieutenant Commander Morse.”
“Yeah, Lieutenant Commander Morse isn’t one of my fans.”
“I’ll say. Is it true you tried to get some little girl to con him out of some sim time?”
“No, chief, that was a coincidence. She just wanted some time to double-check an idea of hers, and the Lieutenant Commander thought I’d put her up to it.”
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