End Run

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For Lt. General “Jimmie” Doolittle, who did the end run first. Thank you, Godspeed, and safe journey.

“Viking at two o’clock!” As an afterthought, the duty officer hit the “battle stations” alarm. The klaxon quacked feebly throughout the ship—well, most of it, anyhow. At least, they heard it in the wardroom.

“Oh, yes sir, right away, sir!” Flip leaped up jogging, knees punching high in parody as he headed for his gun turret.

Jolie watched him go as she ground out her cigarette under a smoking lamp that no longer quite cleared the atmosphere. She heaved a sigh. “Flip he’s called, and flip he is. Come on, Harry—get cannonized.”

“I’ll leave that for the Kilrathi, if you don’t mind.” Harry rose from the seat across from her. “I just shoot ’em, I don’t catch ’em.” I hope, he added silently, the old familiar fear chilling his core. “Have fun in the tail gun.” He took one last drag, then rolled the coal carefully off his cigarette, blew out the last of the smoke, and tucked it away for future reference. He leaped into a run, jogging toward his gun turret.

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