be emerging in the middle of an enemy fleet.
They weren't taking any chances this time. Coventry would go through
first, ready to engage anything waiting near the other end of the jump
point. The destroyer that followed her would jump at the first sign of
trouble, to warn off the rest of the Terran force.
That would be tough on Coventry. Eisen wondered how Jason Bondarevsky
felt about flying point on this mission. He was supposed to be one of
Admiral Tolwyn's shining young proteges, but apparently the admiral's
patronage didn't extend to protecting a favorite from a dangerous mission.
Eisen glanced uneasily at the admiral. He was dressed to perfection,
uniform starched and crisp, every hair in place. But Tolwyn did look
nervous, pacing restlessly back and forth behind the Sensor Officer's
station. For all the man's air of confidence, it was clear that he had his
share of worries.
"Sheffield has powered up her jump coils," the Sensor Officer reported.
"Jump field forming . . . there she goes!"
Tolwyn glanced at the watch implanted in his wrist. "Start the final
countdown, Captain," he ordered.
For an instant, Eisen wanted to bristle. Ever since the admiral came on
board he'd interfered in routine ship's operations: barking orders, taking
over briefings, dressing down crew members who didn't live up to his image
of the ideal Terran warrior. Tolwyn seemed to need to control everything and
everyone around him, as if his personal intervention was the only thing that
could guarantee the success of the mission.
But perhaps Tolwyn had good reason to be concerned. Eisen leaned
forward in his chair and repeated the Admiral's order. Commander Gessler
slapped the switch that started the automated jump sequence.
"NOW, JUMP STATIONS, JUMP STATIONS," the computer announced. "FIVE
MINUTES TO JUMP SEQUENCE START."
The seconds ticked away, with no sign of Sheffield turning back to warn
them away from the jump. Eisen began to relax a little. Maybe this operation
would go by the numbers after all. . . .
"Remember, Captain, Behemoth will be five minutes behind us all the
way," Tolwyn said. "I expect response times to be tight. We can't afford a
screw-up. Not now."
"Yes, Admiral," Eisen said. They'd been over it all a dozen times
before. He decided Tolwyn was talking just to distract himself from thinking
about the ticking clock. In a few more minutes, they'd be committed.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
Flight Deck, TCS Victory Loki System
"And five . . . and four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . ."
Jumpshock!
Blair's guts twisted and churned as the carrier went through
transition. No matter how often he experienced it, he could never get used
to the sensation. The physical nausea passed quickly enough, but there was
always the disorientation, the essential feeling of wrongness that left him
confused, numb.
He blinked and shook his head, trying to get his bearings. Everyone in
the wing had gone through this transit strapped into their cockpits, a
standard precaution when jumping into hostile space. They had the flight
deck to themselves. Force fields and gravity generators sometimes faltered
during jump, and technicians stayed clear of the flight deck for fear of a
catastrophic failure. So the pilots were alone, lined up at their launch
tubes, as ready for action as anyone could be in the aftermath of jumpshock.
Blair's eyes came back into focus, and he checked his readouts and
control settings automatically.
A voice crackled in his headphones. "Jump complete," Eisen said.
"Welcome to Loki System."
There was a pause before Rollins took over. "According to sensors, the
area is clear," the communications officer announced, still sounding a
little groggy. "And Coventry says the same. Sorry to disappoint you, ladies
and gents, but it looks like an all clear."
Blair let out a long sigh, not sure if he was disappointed or relieved.
They had cleared the first hurdle, but they weren't finished yet, not by a
long shot.
The admiral's voice came over the channel, clipped and precise.
"Colonel Blair, you will relieve yourself from launch stations immediately.
All flight wing personnel remain on alert status until further notice."
He still disagreed with the admiral's decision to suspend all flight
ops from the carrier until they had to deploy to protect the Behemoth.
Coventry's four fighters and the destroyers flying escort would give
adequate cover, but Blair didn't like keeping all of his people on standby
alert for hours on end without relief. Better to let them fly patrols, get
some down-time, and take the risk that the wing might be a few hands short
when things hit the fan. But Tolwyn had overruled him.
He started to unstrap himself from the Thunderbolt's cockpit. If all
went well, Blair thought hopefully, this interlude would soon end. And then
. . . ?
It was difficult to picture what peace would be like, after a lifetime
dedicated to the war.
Bridge. TCS Victory Loki System
"God, that sucker sure is thirsty," Rollins commented. "Good thing you
don't have to pay for a fill-up when you're skimming hydrogen."
"Eyes on your board, Lieutenant," Eisen growled. "And put the mouth in
neutral."
"Yes, sir," Rollins replied quickly. The edge in Eisen's voice made it
clear that the captain was dead serious.
The Terran squadron had proceeded from the jump point to their first
destination, the gas giant Loki VIII, without encountering any sign of
Imperial resistance. Victory remained close by while the Behemoth moved into
a tight, hyperbolic orbit around the huge ball of gas. The cruiser and her
consorts stood further off to give warning of any enemy interference, but
there was nothing. The weapons platform dipped into the atmosphere long
enough to top off the depleted tanks of liquid hydrogen needed as reaction
mass to move her ponderous bulk toward the target world.
"Sensors are still reading clear, sir," the Sensor Officer reported.
"Looks like we're home free."
A red light flashed on the Communications board and Rollins called up a
computer analysis of the stray signal locking onto his computer. "Captain .
. ." he began, hesitating a moment. "Sir, I've got some kind of lowband
transmission here. Seems to be coming from one of the gas giant's moons."
"What do you make of it, Mister Rollins?" Admiral Tolwyn cut in before
Eisen could respond.
"I'm not sure, sir . . . uh, Admiral. I don't think its a ship. More
like an automated feed . . . from an unmanned relay station or sensor buoy.
But powerful. A very strong signal . . ."
"Any idea what it's saying?" Tolwyn asked.
"No, Admiral. It's scrambled. Could be almost anything." Rollins looked
up at him, apologetic, but Tolwyn had already turned away.
"Colonel Ralgha? What do you think?"
Hobbes had been scratched from the fighter roster with a down-gripe on
his Thunderbolt, so Tolwyn decided he should join other members of the
admiral's staff at supernumerary positions on the bridge. The Kilrathi
renegade shook his head, a curiously human gesture.
"I am sorry, Admiral. I do not know."
"Well, I do," Tolwyn said. "It means we've been noticed. And the cats
will be organizing a welcoming committee for us."
"Any orders, Admiral?" Eisen asked. Rollins had never heard him sound
quite so stiff and formal.
"The squadron will continue as before," Tolwyn ordered. "Have Behemoth
secured from fueling stations and fall into formation. Coventry to take
station ahead." He paused, almost seeming to strike a heroic pose. "Maintain
your vigilance, gentlemen. And be ready for anything."
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Loki System
"Lord Prince," Melek said, approaching the dais and bowing deeply. "We
have a report from one of the sentinel stations near the eighth planet.
Terran ships have been detected. Their movements conform to a wilderness
refueling operation, and one of the vessels appears to be their Behemoth
weapon."
Thrakhath leaned forward on his throne, his eyes gleaming in the harsh
red light. "Ah . . . so it begins." He showed his fangs. "You see, Melek,
how well our agent has performed? Not only the design specifications of the
weapons platform, but also the intended Terran movements. Refuel at planet
eight, then a crossing to six. Exactly as specified in the report from
Sar'hrai."
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek agreed. Behind his mask, he allowed himself a
moment's impatience. As the plan unfolded, the Prince was becoming
increasingly filled with a sense of his own self-importance. The arrogance
of the Imperial Family was one of the major sources of disaffection among
the great nobles of the realm, and Melek was finding it difficult to
maintain his pose of sycophancy as Thrakhath's posturing grew more blatant.
"It seems we will indeed have a battle here, and soon."
Thrakhath's gesture called for silence. "The strength of the Terran
force?" he asked.
"Five capital ships, Lord Prince," Melek replied. "Plus the weapons
platform itself. Only one carrier . . . Victory. The others-a cruiser, and
three destroyers. Nothing to challenge our force significantly."
"Excellent. They assumed the outpost here was not worth a larger
squadron." Thrakhath paused. "How are our preparations proceeding?"
"Nearly completed, Lord Prince. The Terrans will find their planned
firing position difficult to reach. Our own forces will be deployed by the
time they realize the threat." Melek paused. "There is still time, Lord
Prince, to order more capital ships into the battle zone, to ensure the
Terrans are destroyed."
The Prince gestured denial. "No, Melek. Fighters will have the best
chance to penetrate the defenses of the weapons platform. We do not want to
scare the enemy away with too great a . . . detectable show of strength.
Even if some of their ships escape, we will have the Behemoth. And with it .
. . the war."
"As you wish, Lord Prince." Melek bowed and retreated, but a part of
him wished he could see Thrakhath lose some of that arrogant assurance.
Perhaps then the prince would finally come to understand the true nature of
the dangerous game he played with the future of the Empire.
Gold Squadron Ready Room, TCS Victory Loki System
It took hours to cross interplanetary distances, and the flight wing
settled into a grim routine of waiting, with two squadrons on watch in their
ready rooms and the other two snatching downtime while they could. There
were only six of them in the Gold Squadron ready room, with Hobbes on the
admiral's personal staff, but it seemed unpleasantly cramped after nearly
four hours of boredom waiting for an alarm that never came. No one wanted to
take up Vagabond's challenge at cards any more, and talk lagged. Most of
them sat quietly, enveloped in their own thoughts.
Blair wasn't sure how much longer his staff could wait.
"Man, I'd almost rather the cats would try to stop us," Maniac Marshall
said suddenly. "Anything would beat sitting here on our asses with nothing
to do."
"Hey, get used to it, Vaquero told him. "If that Behemoth thing works,
and we get peace, then we're history. No more magnum launches, no more long
patrols . . ."
"I'll believe it when I see it," Cobra said. "I figure we'll still have
to keep the fleet ready, peace treaty or no. You can't trust the cats to
keep to any treaty. Just look at what they did the last time we signed an
armistice with them!"
At that moment an alarm siren cut off all talk. "LAUNCH STATIONS,
LAUNCH STATIONS, the computer announced. ALL FIGHTERS UP. MAGNUM LAUNCH."
The Gold Squadron pilots scrambled to their feet, snatching up helmets
and gauntlets and heading for the door.
"Thanks a lot, Maniac," Blair said as the two nearly collided at the
door. "Looks like you're getting your wish."
Marshall grinned, a wolfish, uncanny smile similar to Paladin's.
"What's the matter, Colonel, sir? You'd rather sit here and collect dust
than get out on the firing line again?"
He ignored the comment and followed the others down the corridor to the
entrance to the hangar area. Just inside he stopped at an intercom station
and punched for the bridge. "This is Blair," he said as Rollins appeared on
the screen. "What's the scoop, Radio?"
Rollins looked flustered. "Wait one minute, Colonel," he said.
A moment later Admiral Tolwyn's face filled the monitor. "Coventry's
hit a mine," the admiral said. "She's falling behind, with heavy damage to
her shield generators. Looks like a Kilrathi mine field right across our
planned course, and I don't like it one little bit. So I'm putting your boys
and girls out there until we see what else the cats might have waiting for
us."
"So we don't have anything definite yet . . . except the mines?" Blair
wasn't sure if he was relieved or concerned. If this was just a false alarm,
it would sap the wing's morale even more. But the Hermes survey hadn't
reported any mine fields on the approaches to Loki VI. Blair didn't like any
coincidence this suspicious. Not here, not now.
"Finding a bunch of mines this close to the planned firing point . . .
I don't like it, not one bit." Tolwyn's words echoed Blair's uneasiness.
"Your job is simple, Colonel. Cover the Behemoth until it's ready to open
fire."
"Sounds simple enough, Admiral," Blair replied. "But sometimes the
simple jobs are the real killers."
Tolwyn broke the circuit. Blair retrieved his flight gear and turned
back to the bustle in the hangar deck. Four of the Thunderbolts were already
rolling into place in front of their launch tubes, while four Arrows from
Denise Mbuto's squadron were in place on the opposite side. By the time the
two ready squadrons launched, preparations were well in hand for the other
two: the point-defense fighters. By then their pilots, roused from
much-needed rest, would be ready to fly.
Rachel Coriolis hurried to him. "Better get saddled up, Colonel, or
you'll miss the party," she said.
He smiled. "They can't do that. Didn't you hear? I'm the Heart of the
Tiger. Can't have a party without the Heart of the Tiger, you know."
Her look was serious. "Take care of yourself out there," she said
quietly. "I wouldn't like it if . . . someone else I cared about didn't come
back."
"I'll be back. Now that I know I have something worth coming back to,
they won't get to me again." He turned away and hurried toward his fighter,
drawing on his helmet and gauntlets as he strode briskly across the broad
metal deck.
Stalker Leader Loki System
Flight captain Graldak nar Sutaghi studied his sensor screens and
wished his pressure gauntlets had room for him to unsheathe his claws in
anticipation. The Terrans had discovered the mine field and were beginning
to deploy their fighters. It was unfolding just as Prince Thrakhath
outlined. with the mines across their intended course occupying all their
attention for a critical few minutes, there was a perfect opening for
stealth fighters lying in wait to launch a devastating attack.
The huge blip on his screen had to be the weapons platform, the primary
target. It had come to a dead stop while the carrier edged closer to the
mine field and began to launch its fighters. For the moment, at least, the
Behemoth was actually closer to the waiting Kilrathi ships than the enemy
carrier.
Now was the time to strike.
"Stalker Flight, this is Leader," he said aloud. "Stand by to disengage
cloaks and attack on my mark. Three . . . two . . . one. . . mark! Attack!
Attack! Attack!" As he spoke, he cut the power to the Strakha's stealth
device and brought his shield and weapons power on-line. He rammed his
throttles full forward and felt the fighter surge, a predator eager to seek
out the prey.
"All fighters, concentrate attack on the weapons platform," Graldak
ordered. "Remember the briefings . . . attack the weak points."
"And the enemy fighters?" someone asked.
"Do not let them interfere with you," Graldak said. "But do not be
drawn into a dogfight until the primary mission is achieved." Inside his
bulky flight helmet, he was showing his fangs. Graldak was eager to get the
first phase finalized so his squadron could engage the Terran fighters. In
the fighting at Locanda, it had been galling to avoid combat and run under
cloaks. This time they would show the apes how warriors fought.
And today there were no limits on engagement, no fighters declared
off-limits to attack Any enemy pilot who wanted to fight, even the Heart of
the Tiger or the Kilrathi renegade, was fair prey to the hunters today.
The Kilrathi attack group, four squadrons strong drove straight toward
the daunting bulk of the enemy planet killer. Graldak's blood sang within
his veins.
Thunderbolt 300 Loki System
"Targets! Targets! Targets!"
Blair's eyes shifted instinctively to his sensor screen as Rollins
chanted the warning. Suddenly the monitor was crawling with the red-orange
dots representing enemy fighters, four distinct swarms of Kilrathi craft
arranged in a rough half-globe. But they were close, too close . . . well
inside the range of Terran sensors. And on the far side of the Behemoth from
Victory.
Cloaked Strakha, then. They had lain in wait while the Terran squadron
passed by, striking only now when the mine field cut off their advance and
the Behemoth was momentarily uncovered and vulnerable.
The Kilrathi must have known the significance of the weapon and the
Terran plan of attack. It was blatantly clear that all the talk about a
possible spy giving away secrets to the Empire was more than just
speculation.
Blair pushed the thought aside. Time enough to worry about that later.
Right now, the Kilrathi were closing fast with the Behemoth.
"Red and White Squadrons!" he snapped. "Double back and engage the
enemy as quickly as possible." That would send the point defense ships into
action directly, but it wouldn't provide much cover to the weapons platform
itself "Blue Squadron, Gold Squadron, follow me!"
He banked sharply, lining up on the Behemoth's looming mass and opening
up his throttles to full power. With afterburners blazing, Blair dove
straight toward the huge weapon. The others trailed him, only thirteen
fighters in all. A part of Blair's mind dwelt idly on the question of
whether or not the number of ships was significant. An ill omen, perhaps?
"Skipper. . ." Denise Mbuto roused him from his reverie. "Don t you
think . . . ?"
"Comm silence!" he snapped. "Follow my lead, damn it!"
And still they dove, until the weapons platform filled the entire
forward cockpit view and he could make out individual structures and
projections on the hull of the gigantic device. As they swept down toward
the metal surface, Blair suddenly pulled up, skimming within fifty meters of
the Behemoth. He had a maniacal grin on his face as he pictured the
reactions in the other fighters behind him.
"Whooeee! What a ride!" Marshall shouted, and Blair didn't reprimand
him for breaking communications silence. The man's reaction was something he
could understand perfectly. He wanted to shout out loud himself.
Instead he forced himself to think about the battle as a whole.
"Watchdog, Watchdog, this is Guardian Leader," he said on the command
channel. "Come in, Watchdog."
Again it was Tolwyn, and not Rollins, who answered his call. "Damn it,
Blair, get in there!'' he snapped. "You have to protect the Behemoth!"
"We're on it, Admiral," Blair replied. "But some support from the
destroyers would be a good idea. Coventry, too, if she's able."
"Negative on that," Tolwyn replied. "We've just spotted a flotilla of
Kilrathi cap ships closing on us. They're at extreme range but coming in
fast. Sheffield is moving to delay them. And Ajax is trying to clear a route
through the minefield."
"She'll never make it," Blair said. "You know the odds against spotting
every mine when you're in something as big as a destroyer."
"Coventry's launching her fighters, but she's in bad shape. And
Bondarevsky's been wounded. . ." The Admiral was struggling to maintain
control. He stopped, visibly gathering his composure before he spoke again.
"Just do your job, Blair. Tolwyn clear."
The channel went dead, and Blair cursed under his breath. Tolwyn was so
concerned with finding a way around or through those mines that he was
throwing away valuable assets just when they needed them most.
Blair dismissed the thought. Tolwyn would fight this battle his own
way. What mattered now was the flight wings part in it all.
Still skimming low over the curved body of the Behemoth, the Terran
fighters flashed past the pressurized section of the hull where the control
center and crew's quarters were housed. Beyond lay the battle zone, where
the two squadrons of Hellcats were already making their presence known
against the Strakha. Blair pulled up sharply as his sensors registered the
fighting, climbing steeply away from the weapons platform. His maneuver had
placed the two squadrons, Arrows and Thunderbolts, between the Kilrathi and
their target Now all they had to do was make the move count for something .
. .
Stalker Leader Loki System
Graldak let out a Kilrathi oath as he spotted the Terran fighters
forming near the hull of the weapons platform. He hadn't expected the apes
to fly so recklessly close to the surface of the huge weapons platform. It
was a daring move. A warrior's move. He recognized the hand of the one
Thrakhath had dubbed the Heart of the Tiger, the same one who had so nearly
defeated the attack force off Locanda IV. That was one ape who knew how to
fight. . . .
"So, Heart of the Tiger," he said over the comm channel. "You would
stand in my way? You will not stand long, I assure you."
The Behemoth was the primary target, but that did not preclude swatting
aside any resistance that sought to stop his attack run. With all weapons
armed, Graldak switched on his targeting computer and drove the Strakha
straight toward the Terran fighters.
Thunderbolt 300 Loki System
"Here they come!"
Blair saw the leading Strakha accelerating toward them just as Flint
gave her warning cry. The Kilrathi fighters were no longer spread out, but
formed a wedge behind their leader. They were keeping tighter formation than
usual, probably hoping to bore through the Terran defenses and reach
Behemoth through sheer numbers and concentrated firepower. A quick glance at
the sensor screen revealed the other Kilrathi ships now thoroughly engaged.
The two Hellcat squadrons tied up most of the enemy, while the rest were
being pursued by the half-squadron off of Coventry. The cruiser itself
limped in closer. Apparently Tolwyn was wrong about the situation aboard the
capital ship. . . .
"Close up," Blair ordered. These were the only Kilrathi ships in a
position to hit Behemoth for the moment, but unless the Terrans shifted to
meet the unexpected Imperial formation their advantage would be lost. "Form
on me."
But the cats were driving in too fast. An Arrow flashed past Blair,
blasters firing wildly, but three of the Strakha hit the interceptor with
massed fire. Blair tried to catch up to support the Arrow, but he was too
late. The Terran fighter's shields went down, and in seconds the Kilrathi
blasters chewed through armor and hull, boring into the reactor. The Arrow
went up in a blaze of raw energy.
It was only then that Blair realized it was Denise Mbuto's fighter.
Now the leader was almost on top of him, and the rest of the wedge
close behind. Blair set his crosshairs on the lead Strakha and opened fire.
Several Kilrathi ships began to return his volley, but Cobra and Vaquero
appeared from nowhere to engage on their flank, and in their haste to meet
the new threat, the Kilrathi did little more than graze Blair's shields.
He maintained fire on the leader, looping to follow as the wedge shot
past him. Fingers dancing over the fire controls, Blair called up a pair of
dumb-fire missiles. They were simple unguided rockets, without any of the
sophisticated homing systems common in other weapons in the Terran arsenal,
but in this situation they were exactly what Blair needed. If he fired any
of the other types, they were apt to be confused by the sheer number of
available targets. And Blair wanted the leader.
He kicked in his afterburners once more, driving right into the enemy
wedge. His targeting reticule centered over the lead Strakha and flashed,
and Blair's fingers stabbed at the fire controls. The two missiles leapt
from their launch rails almost as one, speeding straight toward the Kilrathi
ship. His opponent, realizing what was happening at the last possible
moment, started to swerve, but it was too late. The missiles detonated, and
the Kilrathi shields began to fluctuate wildly.
Blair locked on his blasters and opened fire.
The Kilrathi pilot continued his maneuver even as the armor was being
ripped off his stern section. The Strakha was changing course, but no longer
in an evasive turn. He was lining up on a vector only slightly different
from his previous heading . . . straight toward the Behemoth.
With a shock, Blair realized that the pilot's new course had his
fighter aimed directly at one of the exposed shield generator housings that
Tolwyn had indicated as a weak point in the weapons platform's defenses. The
Kilrathi pilot had decided to make his death count. . . .
The Strakha came apart, but hurtling chunks of debris stayed on course,
raining on the surface of the Behemoth. A ripple of explosions erupted from
the huge vessel's hull. A moment later, two nearby Kilrathi ships let loose
missile barrages to take advantage of collapsing shields on the weapons'
platform. Flint and Maniac accounted for the two cats, but the damage was
already done.
Blair could see lifepods and shuttles detaching from the Behemoth as
the explosions spread and swelled. He pulled up sharply, steering back
through a gauntlet of Kilrathi Strakha, knowing he had to put some distance
between his fragile fighter and the doomed planetkiller.
The final explosion, when it came, overwhelmed his sensors and external
cameras. For a moment he was flying blind, buffeted by spinning bits of
metal and stray shots from enemy fighters. Kilrathi jeers and taunts were
loud on the comm channel, a demonic cacophony of hate and glee.
Behemoth was gone. . . .
Elsewhere, the Kilrathi fighters were turning away. The Terran
resistance had been stiff, and with the destruction of the weapons platform
their mission was accomplished. As the Kilrathi began to withdraw in the
direction of their capital ships, Blair ordered the flight wing to regroup
near Victory. No one offered to pursue the retiring foe.
Tolwyn's face appeared on Blair's comm screen. "I'm ordering the fleet
to withdraw, he said, shock and pain etched plainly on his face. "Ajax will
stall the enemy fleet as long as possible. Land your fighters, Colonel." The
admiral's shoulders seemed to sag. "It seems we've lost our last chance . .
."
Flight Deck, TCS Victory Blackmane System
The retreat from Loki had cost the flight wing five more pilots, and
the destroyer Ajax was destroyed while attempting to hold off the enemy so
the rest of the squadron could withdraw through the jump point. Still, it
might have been considered a victory of sorts, extracting the Terran
squadron from the trap at Loki VI . . . if it hadn't been for the loss of
Behemoth.
The last hope for mankind. . . that was how the Behemoth was described.
Now it was gone. And it was Christopher Blair who had failed in his duty to
protect the weapon from the Kilrathi attack.
The bitter thought gnawed at Blair as he stood on the flight deck,
surrounded by other senior ship's officers. The failure had been his . . .
but right now, it was Admiral Geoff Tolwyn who was suffering the
consequences of that failure. The orders came in two days after the squadron
retreated to the Blackmane System. They were conveyed by a fast courier ship
that had carried Tolwyn's report to sector HQ and then returned. Tolwyn was
relieved of command over the erstwhile Behemoth Project. He was to strike
his flag aboard Victory and return to Torgo immediately to face an inquiry
into his handling of the entire operation.
Victory, meanwhile, was to maintain position and complete field repairs
pending the arrival of a new squadron commander. No one aboard was sure what
that portended
Tolwyn dressed as precisely as ever, but defeat was plain in his
carriage as he stepped onto the flight deck, his staff trailing behind him.
The admiral did not seem surprised to note that the turnout to see his
departure was smaller and less impressive than upon his arrival. His star
fell, and he with it. Tolwyn was well aware of the fact. He stopped to
return Eisen's crisp salute.
"I relieve you, sir," the captain said quietly.
"I stand relieved," Tolwyn replied. "Permission to leave the ship?"
"Granted, Admiral." Eisen saluted a second time.
"A word of warning," Tolwyn said, again returning the salute. "The cats
knew exactly where we were going, and when. They even knew exactly where to
strike." He paused, running a sour eye over the assembled officers behind
Eisen. His gaze seemed to come to rest on Blair. "I believe you may have a
leaky ship, Captain."
"With all due respect, sir," Eisen responded stiffly. "I resent any
such suggestion regarding my people. They've served this ship and the
Confederation with honor, one and all. There are never any guarantees when
it comes to battle, Admiral. And no such thing as certain victory, no matter
how awesome your weapon may be."
Tolwyn's expression was bleak. "Victory is certain enough now, Captain,
for the Kilrathi. I hope the honor of your crew is enough, in the fighting
that lies ahead. It will only get worse from here."
He turned away and stalked toward the shuttle without another word.
Climbing the ramp, he turned back to look at the flight deck one last time,
and again Blair felt that the admiral's gaze singled him from the rest. Then
Tolwyn boarded the craft, and the door swung shut behind him. The assembled
officers and men withdrew as the shuttle powered up.
The hangar area was empty by the time the shuttle rolled onto the open
deck beyond the force field curtain, rising slowly away from the carrier and
into the black void.
Bridge, TCS Victory Blackmane System
"Captain, we've got a ship coming through the Torgo jump point. Looks
like a big one . . ."
"On the main monitor," Eisen ordered, leaning forward in his chair. The
viewscreen showed a computer-enhanced view of open space, with no outward
sign of the jump point or the disturbance the sensors picked up indicating a
ship in transit.
Four days had passed since Tolwyn's departure, and aboard Victory and
the other ships in the ill-fated Behemoth Squadron, the passage of time was
starting to weigh heavily on crew morale. Being driven back with the loss of
the weapons platform Ч not to mention Ajax Ч was bad enough. But to wait
here, useless, without a word of the war from other quarters . . . that was
even worse.
A ship took form on the viewscreen, slightly larger than Victory but
similar in configuration. It was one of the latest models of escort carrier,
but its sleek, modern lines were marred by battle damage.
"Jesus," someone muttered. "Looks like half the flight deck got
cooked."
"Transponder code's on line, Captain," Rollins said a moment later.
"She's the Eagle. Captain Chalfonte."
"Confirming," the sensor officer added a moment later.
"Message coming in, Rollins reported. "They're sending across a
shuttle. No details, sir. Just . . . sending a shuttle. We're to stand by
and await further communication."
Eisen nodded. "Very well. Alert Flight Control we have an incoming
shuttle. Mr. Gessler, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room if
there's anything further."
Flight Control, TCS Victory Blackmane System
"Victory, Victory, this is shuttle Armstrong. Request landing clearance
and approach vector.
"Shuttle Armstrong, cleared to land," Blair replied. He was standing a
turn as OOD in Flight Control, one more way to keep himself busy so that he
wouldn't brood over recent events. He signaled to one of the technicians to
activate the carriers approach beacon.
The shuttle skimmed low over the flight deck and allowed the tractor
beams to lock on and pull it in. Blair monitored the landing, and when the
stubby little craft was down, he gave curt orders to activate the force
fields and revive pressure and gravity inside the hangar area. Behind him,
two of the techs were swapping speculations about the shuttle and its reason
for paying the ship a visit from Eagle, but Blair silenced them with a quick
look.
The shuttle doors opened up, and a single stocky figure appeared at the
top of the ramp. Blair stared, wide-eyed as the man glanced around the
hangar deck and gave an approving nod of his graying head. Rachel Coriolis
appeared at the bottom of the ramp, holding out a PDP so that the shuttle's
pilot could log in, but she nearly dropped it as she took in the rank
insignia on the man's well-worn flight suit.
It wasn't often that a full general visited the flight deck of a
carrier.
Blair wasted no time in getting to the flight deck to join Rachel. By
the time he reached the shuttle, General James Taggart had descended to the
deck, taking the data pad from the chief technician's hands. He was smiling
as he signed it and thrust it back at her.
"There, now, lassie, Сtis all legal and proper," the general said, his
thick Scots accent a welcome reminder of better days. He caught sight of
Blair and his grin broadened. "Och, lad, dinna hurry! I'm nae sae old that
ye maun rush tae see me before I keel over!"
"Paladin!" Blair said, saluting the man who had been his first squadron
leader on the old Tiger's Claw. "Er . . . General . . .
"Paladin I'll always be tae my auld mates, laddie," Taggart told him,
returning the salute carelessly and then seizing Blair's hand in a warm
handshake. " 'Tis aye good tae see ye again."
"Why didn t someone tell us you were on the shuttle?" Blair demanded.
"We would have laid on a proper welcome." He was thinking of the contrast
between Taggart's arrival and Tolwyn's just two weeks earlier.
"Och, lad, I cannae be bothered with all the pomp and circumstance. Ye
should ken that well enough by now. The business I'm on doesna allow time
for all that folderol."
"Business?"
"Aye, lad." Paladin stroked his salt-and-pepper beard and fixed Blair
with a steely stare. "The business of putting right the mess Auld Geoff made
of things, at Loki. I just hope Сtis nae too late tae salvage this mess."
The general gave him another smile. "So, if ye dinna mind, lad, I need tae
see Captain Eisen as soon as may be. But I'll be wanting tae talk to ye, as
well, soon enough."
General Taggart strode briskly toward the door, leaving Blair behind.
Rachel exchanged glances with him.
"That was General Taggart?" she asked as Paladin's broad back
disappeared through the doorway.
Blair nodded. "In the flesh."
"Good God," the woman said softly. "I feel sorry for the Kilrathi who
gets in his way . . ."
"The last one who tried ended up with a Paladin-sized hole in him,"
Blair agree. "I just wonder what the hell he's doing here. . .?"
Wing Commander's Quarters, TCS Victory Blackmane System
The door buzzer made an irritating noise, and Blair swung his feet from
his bunk and said "Enter" just to shut it off. He wasn't surprised to see
Paladin when the door slid open. "Come in, General," he said formally.
Taggart cocked an eyebrow at him. "General, is it, again? Have ye
decided tae go all formal on me, lad?"
Blair shrugged wearily. "It's hard to think of you as Paladin any more,
you know. It's been a long time."
"Those were the good days, though, laddie," Paladin told him, crossing
the cramped cabin to perch on the only chair. "I wish I was still out on the
firing line with you young lads and lasses, instead of flying a bloody desk.
"I wish you were out here, too," Blair told him. "A few more pilots
like we had in the old gang and we might've saved Behemoth last week."
"That bucket of bolts," Paladin said, making a face. "Auld Geoff really
thought that monster of his would work. He always believed that bigger was
better."
"You had a better solution, I take it? Kevin said you had some scheme
cooked up, over in Covert Ops." Blair couldn't help letting some of his
anger show in the comment.
Taggart studied him. "I hear you . . . heard about Angel," he said,
answering Blair's tone rather than his question. "In a tangle with
Thrakhath, no less."
"Yes, I did, you son of a bitch."
"I'm sorry that ye had tae find out that way."
"How long have you known?" Blair demanded.
Paladin didn't answer right away. "Since. . . since before Concordia
was lost," he admitted.
Blair felt the anger surging within, his fists clenching with the
sudden desire to strike out at the man. "You bastard," he said. "When I
asked, you stood there and lied to me."
"Laddie, I had to do it. I was under orders myself. . . ."
"All the missions we flew together Ч they didn't mean a damn thing, did
they?" Blair demanded. "You out there on my wing, protecting me . . ."
"Don't you see that's what I was doing by not telling you?" Paladin
said. "Look, ladie . . . look what ye almost did out there, when ye learned
of it all. I was protecting you again . . . from yourself."
Blair looked away, at the holo projector sitting beside his bed. He
hadn't played the message again since learning she was dead, but he heard it
in his dreams all too often. "You know what she meant to me."
"Aye, lad, I do indeed." Taggart paused. "But we're fighting a war,
son. We've all lost someone close to us. It doesna make you special."
"Yeah, right," Blair said. "I've heard the whole routine before. It
doesn't get better with repetition."
Paladin shrugged. "I suppose not. But the fact is, lad, that we couldna
tell anyone about Angel. Not until now. Not without ruining the work she did
before she died."
He didn't answer, but he met Taggart's eyes.
"Her last mission was a part of my project, laddie. Not sae grand,
perhaps, as Auld Geoff and his Behemoth, But a way tae end this war, once
and for all. And Сtis up tae you, Chris Blair, tae finish what Angel
started."
Captain's Ready Room, TCS Victory Blackmane System
Like his arrival, the briefing Paladin gave the next morning was a
low-key affair. Instead of an audience of aides and ship's officers, the
general limited the briefing to Blair and Eisen. He wasted no time on
useless preliminaries or self-congratulation.
"We've got a lot to cover, and damned little time to do it in." Blair
always noticed that Paladin's accent faded as he focused on important
matters, and today was no exception. "Covert Ops lost out to Admiral Tolwyn
when it came time for HQ to decide on a response to the Kilrathi biological
threat, but like him we've had an operation in train for several years. Its
a long shot, I'll grant you, but it can work. It has to."
Blair noticed a look of distaste on Eisen's face. After Behemoth,
another long shot was the last thing any of them wanted.
"You hae already been briefed on the seismic instability of Kilrah,"
Paladin went on. "It was central to the whole Behemoth project, the notion
that even if the weapon wasn't able to bust a planet cold, it could at least
shake the place apart when applied against the right target. Our project
tackled the same concept from anither angle, one more in keeping with the
philosophy of Covert Ops."
He punched a code into the keypad in front of him and the map table
came to life, projecting an image of a torpedo-shaped device into the air
between the three men. "This is the Temblor Bomb," he said quietly. "It was
developed by Doctor Philip Severin, one of the top research men in the
Confederation. It's been undergoing tests for some time now . . . nearly a
decade, in fact."
The view changed to schematics. It brought back unpleasant thoughts of
Tolwyn's Behemoth lecture, and Blair shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Eisen's face was a study in bland neutrality as he regarded the holographic
image
"The bomb operates on the principle of seismic resonance," Taggart
continued. "Detonated in the right place, at the proper juncture of tectonic
fault lines, it will set up a series of quakes which will increase in
intensity until Kilrah is quite literally shaken apart." Paladin spread his
hands. "Unfortunately, the weapon doesna lend itself to pretty
demonstrations on backwater worlds. There's only a handful of planets we
know of where the Temblor Bomb could do its work, and Kilrah is at the top
of the list. The High Command wanted something they could escalate up to
gradually, so they threw their weight behind Admiral Tolwyn and the
Behemoth."
Blair frowned. "I've said all along that I'm against Ч "
"Laddie," Taggart said sternly. "I'd like nothing better than to find a
solution that didn't involve civilian casualties, but the simple fact is we
do not have one at hand." He paused. "Right now we have to stop the Empire
cold. Not just a defeat, but a final defeat. The Imperial hierarchy is so
centralized, so built around the idea of Kilrah as the core of their entire
culture, that the destruction of the planet will bring the rest of the
Empire to a halt. Even if there are a few warlords who want to fight, the
other Kilrathi worlds will come apart as clans and factions and splinter
groups start fighting for a new equilibrium. And that's our only hope of
bringing the war to a quick end."
Eisen looked at him. "The brass must have thought a negotiated
settlement was possible," he commented. "They wanted Tolwyn to demonstrate
Behemoth and make the Kilrathi come to the peace table."
"Aye, that was the hope," Paladin admitted slowly. "Though you must
know that the admiral had no plans tae stop with Loki. He knew, just as I
do, that Thrakhath and his Emperor willna stop fighting as long as they see
a hope of winning. And a balance of power, their bioweapons against our
Behemoth, would have meant the advantage of numbers and strategic position
was still with the Empire."
"It sounds to me like there was never any choice at all," Blair said
quietly.
"Laddie, there wasn't." Paladin looked grim. "Fact is, even if Auld
Geoff had decided tae hold off, I was ready to launch a Temblor Bomb attack
on Kilrah on my ain authority."
"What?" Eisen looked shocked. "You'd have been court-martialed six ways
from Sunday!"
"Aye, true enough," Paladin said. "But my career doesna mean much set
against the end of this damned war. Our hope was that the cats would hear
about Behemoth's attack on Loki and assemble the bulk of their reserve fleet
tae intercept it. I persuaded Captain Chalfonte tae take Eagle into Imperial
territory tae launch the Temblor Bomb strike on Kilrah while the cats were
chasing Behemoth. But they were a step ahead of us, it seems. Thrakhath had
a strike force ready at Loki, and never touched the reserves. Eagle ran into
trouble before we got anywhere near Kilrah. We had tae break off and retreat
with heavy damage."
"So it's over, then," Blair said bitterly.
"Not yet, it isn't," Taggart said. "That's why I'm here. Now that
Behemoth has failed, Sector HQ has authorized the Temblor strike. This time,
when we go in, we'll be supported by a fleet. If we can penetrate the
defenses that turned Eagle back, and get a few fighters through, we can
still drop the bomb and destroy the planet."
"That doesn't sound like a long shot," Blair said. "It sounds like no
shot at all. A fleet couldn't penetrate all the way to Kilrah, and anything
less than a fleet would be carved up before you could say here, kitty,
kitty!
"Dinna be sae sure, laddie," Paladin said with a wolfish grin. "Covert
They weren't taking any chances this time. Coventry would go through
first, ready to engage anything waiting near the other end of the jump
point. The destroyer that followed her would jump at the first sign of
trouble, to warn off the rest of the Terran force.
That would be tough on Coventry. Eisen wondered how Jason Bondarevsky
felt about flying point on this mission. He was supposed to be one of
Admiral Tolwyn's shining young proteges, but apparently the admiral's
patronage didn't extend to protecting a favorite from a dangerous mission.
Eisen glanced uneasily at the admiral. He was dressed to perfection,
uniform starched and crisp, every hair in place. But Tolwyn did look
nervous, pacing restlessly back and forth behind the Sensor Officer's
station. For all the man's air of confidence, it was clear that he had his
share of worries.
"Sheffield has powered up her jump coils," the Sensor Officer reported.
"Jump field forming . . . there she goes!"
Tolwyn glanced at the watch implanted in his wrist. "Start the final
countdown, Captain," he ordered.
For an instant, Eisen wanted to bristle. Ever since the admiral came on
board he'd interfered in routine ship's operations: barking orders, taking
over briefings, dressing down crew members who didn't live up to his image
of the ideal Terran warrior. Tolwyn seemed to need to control everything and
everyone around him, as if his personal intervention was the only thing that
could guarantee the success of the mission.
But perhaps Tolwyn had good reason to be concerned. Eisen leaned
forward in his chair and repeated the Admiral's order. Commander Gessler
slapped the switch that started the automated jump sequence.
"NOW, JUMP STATIONS, JUMP STATIONS," the computer announced. "FIVE
MINUTES TO JUMP SEQUENCE START."
The seconds ticked away, with no sign of Sheffield turning back to warn
them away from the jump. Eisen began to relax a little. Maybe this operation
would go by the numbers after all. . . .
"Remember, Captain, Behemoth will be five minutes behind us all the
way," Tolwyn said. "I expect response times to be tight. We can't afford a
screw-up. Not now."
"Yes, Admiral," Eisen said. They'd been over it all a dozen times
before. He decided Tolwyn was talking just to distract himself from thinking
about the ticking clock. In a few more minutes, they'd be committed.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
Flight Deck, TCS Victory Loki System
"And five . . . and four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . ."
Jumpshock!
Blair's guts twisted and churned as the carrier went through
transition. No matter how often he experienced it, he could never get used
to the sensation. The physical nausea passed quickly enough, but there was
always the disorientation, the essential feeling of wrongness that left him
confused, numb.
He blinked and shook his head, trying to get his bearings. Everyone in
the wing had gone through this transit strapped into their cockpits, a
standard precaution when jumping into hostile space. They had the flight
deck to themselves. Force fields and gravity generators sometimes faltered
during jump, and technicians stayed clear of the flight deck for fear of a
catastrophic failure. So the pilots were alone, lined up at their launch
tubes, as ready for action as anyone could be in the aftermath of jumpshock.
Blair's eyes came back into focus, and he checked his readouts and
control settings automatically.
A voice crackled in his headphones. "Jump complete," Eisen said.
"Welcome to Loki System."
There was a pause before Rollins took over. "According to sensors, the
area is clear," the communications officer announced, still sounding a
little groggy. "And Coventry says the same. Sorry to disappoint you, ladies
and gents, but it looks like an all clear."
Blair let out a long sigh, not sure if he was disappointed or relieved.
They had cleared the first hurdle, but they weren't finished yet, not by a
long shot.
The admiral's voice came over the channel, clipped and precise.
"Colonel Blair, you will relieve yourself from launch stations immediately.
All flight wing personnel remain on alert status until further notice."
He still disagreed with the admiral's decision to suspend all flight
ops from the carrier until they had to deploy to protect the Behemoth.
Coventry's four fighters and the destroyers flying escort would give
adequate cover, but Blair didn't like keeping all of his people on standby
alert for hours on end without relief. Better to let them fly patrols, get
some down-time, and take the risk that the wing might be a few hands short
when things hit the fan. But Tolwyn had overruled him.
He started to unstrap himself from the Thunderbolt's cockpit. If all
went well, Blair thought hopefully, this interlude would soon end. And then
. . . ?
It was difficult to picture what peace would be like, after a lifetime
dedicated to the war.
Bridge. TCS Victory Loki System
"God, that sucker sure is thirsty," Rollins commented. "Good thing you
don't have to pay for a fill-up when you're skimming hydrogen."
"Eyes on your board, Lieutenant," Eisen growled. "And put the mouth in
neutral."
"Yes, sir," Rollins replied quickly. The edge in Eisen's voice made it
clear that the captain was dead serious.
The Terran squadron had proceeded from the jump point to their first
destination, the gas giant Loki VIII, without encountering any sign of
Imperial resistance. Victory remained close by while the Behemoth moved into
a tight, hyperbolic orbit around the huge ball of gas. The cruiser and her
consorts stood further off to give warning of any enemy interference, but
there was nothing. The weapons platform dipped into the atmosphere long
enough to top off the depleted tanks of liquid hydrogen needed as reaction
mass to move her ponderous bulk toward the target world.
"Sensors are still reading clear, sir," the Sensor Officer reported.
"Looks like we're home free."
A red light flashed on the Communications board and Rollins called up a
computer analysis of the stray signal locking onto his computer. "Captain .
. ." he began, hesitating a moment. "Sir, I've got some kind of lowband
transmission here. Seems to be coming from one of the gas giant's moons."
"What do you make of it, Mister Rollins?" Admiral Tolwyn cut in before
Eisen could respond.
"I'm not sure, sir . . . uh, Admiral. I don't think its a ship. More
like an automated feed . . . from an unmanned relay station or sensor buoy.
But powerful. A very strong signal . . ."
"Any idea what it's saying?" Tolwyn asked.
"No, Admiral. It's scrambled. Could be almost anything." Rollins looked
up at him, apologetic, but Tolwyn had already turned away.
"Colonel Ralgha? What do you think?"
Hobbes had been scratched from the fighter roster with a down-gripe on
his Thunderbolt, so Tolwyn decided he should join other members of the
admiral's staff at supernumerary positions on the bridge. The Kilrathi
renegade shook his head, a curiously human gesture.
"I am sorry, Admiral. I do not know."
"Well, I do," Tolwyn said. "It means we've been noticed. And the cats
will be organizing a welcoming committee for us."
"Any orders, Admiral?" Eisen asked. Rollins had never heard him sound
quite so stiff and formal.
"The squadron will continue as before," Tolwyn ordered. "Have Behemoth
secured from fueling stations and fall into formation. Coventry to take
station ahead." He paused, almost seeming to strike a heroic pose. "Maintain
your vigilance, gentlemen. And be ready for anything."
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Loki System
"Lord Prince," Melek said, approaching the dais and bowing deeply. "We
have a report from one of the sentinel stations near the eighth planet.
Terran ships have been detected. Their movements conform to a wilderness
refueling operation, and one of the vessels appears to be their Behemoth
weapon."
Thrakhath leaned forward on his throne, his eyes gleaming in the harsh
red light. "Ah . . . so it begins." He showed his fangs. "You see, Melek,
how well our agent has performed? Not only the design specifications of the
weapons platform, but also the intended Terran movements. Refuel at planet
eight, then a crossing to six. Exactly as specified in the report from
Sar'hrai."
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek agreed. Behind his mask, he allowed himself a
moment's impatience. As the plan unfolded, the Prince was becoming
increasingly filled with a sense of his own self-importance. The arrogance
of the Imperial Family was one of the major sources of disaffection among
the great nobles of the realm, and Melek was finding it difficult to
maintain his pose of sycophancy as Thrakhath's posturing grew more blatant.
"It seems we will indeed have a battle here, and soon."
Thrakhath's gesture called for silence. "The strength of the Terran
force?" he asked.
"Five capital ships, Lord Prince," Melek replied. "Plus the weapons
platform itself. Only one carrier . . . Victory. The others-a cruiser, and
three destroyers. Nothing to challenge our force significantly."
"Excellent. They assumed the outpost here was not worth a larger
squadron." Thrakhath paused. "How are our preparations proceeding?"
"Nearly completed, Lord Prince. The Terrans will find their planned
firing position difficult to reach. Our own forces will be deployed by the
time they realize the threat." Melek paused. "There is still time, Lord
Prince, to order more capital ships into the battle zone, to ensure the
Terrans are destroyed."
The Prince gestured denial. "No, Melek. Fighters will have the best
chance to penetrate the defenses of the weapons platform. We do not want to
scare the enemy away with too great a . . . detectable show of strength.
Even if some of their ships escape, we will have the Behemoth. And with it .
. . the war."
"As you wish, Lord Prince." Melek bowed and retreated, but a part of
him wished he could see Thrakhath lose some of that arrogant assurance.
Perhaps then the prince would finally come to understand the true nature of
the dangerous game he played with the future of the Empire.
Gold Squadron Ready Room, TCS Victory Loki System
It took hours to cross interplanetary distances, and the flight wing
settled into a grim routine of waiting, with two squadrons on watch in their
ready rooms and the other two snatching downtime while they could. There
were only six of them in the Gold Squadron ready room, with Hobbes on the
admiral's personal staff, but it seemed unpleasantly cramped after nearly
four hours of boredom waiting for an alarm that never came. No one wanted to
take up Vagabond's challenge at cards any more, and talk lagged. Most of
them sat quietly, enveloped in their own thoughts.
Blair wasn't sure how much longer his staff could wait.
"Man, I'd almost rather the cats would try to stop us," Maniac Marshall
said suddenly. "Anything would beat sitting here on our asses with nothing
to do."
"Hey, get used to it, Vaquero told him. "If that Behemoth thing works,
and we get peace, then we're history. No more magnum launches, no more long
patrols . . ."
"I'll believe it when I see it," Cobra said. "I figure we'll still have
to keep the fleet ready, peace treaty or no. You can't trust the cats to
keep to any treaty. Just look at what they did the last time we signed an
armistice with them!"
At that moment an alarm siren cut off all talk. "LAUNCH STATIONS,
LAUNCH STATIONS, the computer announced. ALL FIGHTERS UP. MAGNUM LAUNCH."
The Gold Squadron pilots scrambled to their feet, snatching up helmets
and gauntlets and heading for the door.
"Thanks a lot, Maniac," Blair said as the two nearly collided at the
door. "Looks like you're getting your wish."
Marshall grinned, a wolfish, uncanny smile similar to Paladin's.
"What's the matter, Colonel, sir? You'd rather sit here and collect dust
than get out on the firing line again?"
He ignored the comment and followed the others down the corridor to the
entrance to the hangar area. Just inside he stopped at an intercom station
and punched for the bridge. "This is Blair," he said as Rollins appeared on
the screen. "What's the scoop, Radio?"
Rollins looked flustered. "Wait one minute, Colonel," he said.
A moment later Admiral Tolwyn's face filled the monitor. "Coventry's
hit a mine," the admiral said. "She's falling behind, with heavy damage to
her shield generators. Looks like a Kilrathi mine field right across our
planned course, and I don't like it one little bit. So I'm putting your boys
and girls out there until we see what else the cats might have waiting for
us."
"So we don't have anything definite yet . . . except the mines?" Blair
wasn't sure if he was relieved or concerned. If this was just a false alarm,
it would sap the wing's morale even more. But the Hermes survey hadn't
reported any mine fields on the approaches to Loki VI. Blair didn't like any
coincidence this suspicious. Not here, not now.
"Finding a bunch of mines this close to the planned firing point . . .
I don't like it, not one bit." Tolwyn's words echoed Blair's uneasiness.
"Your job is simple, Colonel. Cover the Behemoth until it's ready to open
fire."
"Sounds simple enough, Admiral," Blair replied. "But sometimes the
simple jobs are the real killers."
Tolwyn broke the circuit. Blair retrieved his flight gear and turned
back to the bustle in the hangar deck. Four of the Thunderbolts were already
rolling into place in front of their launch tubes, while four Arrows from
Denise Mbuto's squadron were in place on the opposite side. By the time the
two ready squadrons launched, preparations were well in hand for the other
two: the point-defense fighters. By then their pilots, roused from
much-needed rest, would be ready to fly.
Rachel Coriolis hurried to him. "Better get saddled up, Colonel, or
you'll miss the party," she said.
He smiled. "They can't do that. Didn't you hear? I'm the Heart of the
Tiger. Can't have a party without the Heart of the Tiger, you know."
Her look was serious. "Take care of yourself out there," she said
quietly. "I wouldn't like it if . . . someone else I cared about didn't come
back."
"I'll be back. Now that I know I have something worth coming back to,
they won't get to me again." He turned away and hurried toward his fighter,
drawing on his helmet and gauntlets as he strode briskly across the broad
metal deck.
Stalker Leader Loki System
Flight captain Graldak nar Sutaghi studied his sensor screens and
wished his pressure gauntlets had room for him to unsheathe his claws in
anticipation. The Terrans had discovered the mine field and were beginning
to deploy their fighters. It was unfolding just as Prince Thrakhath
outlined. with the mines across their intended course occupying all their
attention for a critical few minutes, there was a perfect opening for
stealth fighters lying in wait to launch a devastating attack.
The huge blip on his screen had to be the weapons platform, the primary
target. It had come to a dead stop while the carrier edged closer to the
mine field and began to launch its fighters. For the moment, at least, the
Behemoth was actually closer to the waiting Kilrathi ships than the enemy
carrier.
Now was the time to strike.
"Stalker Flight, this is Leader," he said aloud. "Stand by to disengage
cloaks and attack on my mark. Three . . . two . . . one. . . mark! Attack!
Attack! Attack!" As he spoke, he cut the power to the Strakha's stealth
device and brought his shield and weapons power on-line. He rammed his
throttles full forward and felt the fighter surge, a predator eager to seek
out the prey.
"All fighters, concentrate attack on the weapons platform," Graldak
ordered. "Remember the briefings . . . attack the weak points."
"And the enemy fighters?" someone asked.
"Do not let them interfere with you," Graldak said. "But do not be
drawn into a dogfight until the primary mission is achieved." Inside his
bulky flight helmet, he was showing his fangs. Graldak was eager to get the
first phase finalized so his squadron could engage the Terran fighters. In
the fighting at Locanda, it had been galling to avoid combat and run under
cloaks. This time they would show the apes how warriors fought.
And today there were no limits on engagement, no fighters declared
off-limits to attack Any enemy pilot who wanted to fight, even the Heart of
the Tiger or the Kilrathi renegade, was fair prey to the hunters today.
The Kilrathi attack group, four squadrons strong drove straight toward
the daunting bulk of the enemy planet killer. Graldak's blood sang within
his veins.
Thunderbolt 300 Loki System
"Targets! Targets! Targets!"
Blair's eyes shifted instinctively to his sensor screen as Rollins
chanted the warning. Suddenly the monitor was crawling with the red-orange
dots representing enemy fighters, four distinct swarms of Kilrathi craft
arranged in a rough half-globe. But they were close, too close . . . well
inside the range of Terran sensors. And on the far side of the Behemoth from
Victory.
Cloaked Strakha, then. They had lain in wait while the Terran squadron
passed by, striking only now when the mine field cut off their advance and
the Behemoth was momentarily uncovered and vulnerable.
The Kilrathi must have known the significance of the weapon and the
Terran plan of attack. It was blatantly clear that all the talk about a
possible spy giving away secrets to the Empire was more than just
speculation.
Blair pushed the thought aside. Time enough to worry about that later.
Right now, the Kilrathi were closing fast with the Behemoth.
"Red and White Squadrons!" he snapped. "Double back and engage the
enemy as quickly as possible." That would send the point defense ships into
action directly, but it wouldn't provide much cover to the weapons platform
itself "Blue Squadron, Gold Squadron, follow me!"
He banked sharply, lining up on the Behemoth's looming mass and opening
up his throttles to full power. With afterburners blazing, Blair dove
straight toward the huge weapon. The others trailed him, only thirteen
fighters in all. A part of Blair's mind dwelt idly on the question of
whether or not the number of ships was significant. An ill omen, perhaps?
"Skipper. . ." Denise Mbuto roused him from his reverie. "Don t you
think . . . ?"
"Comm silence!" he snapped. "Follow my lead, damn it!"
And still they dove, until the weapons platform filled the entire
forward cockpit view and he could make out individual structures and
projections on the hull of the gigantic device. As they swept down toward
the metal surface, Blair suddenly pulled up, skimming within fifty meters of
the Behemoth. He had a maniacal grin on his face as he pictured the
reactions in the other fighters behind him.
"Whooeee! What a ride!" Marshall shouted, and Blair didn't reprimand
him for breaking communications silence. The man's reaction was something he
could understand perfectly. He wanted to shout out loud himself.
Instead he forced himself to think about the battle as a whole.
"Watchdog, Watchdog, this is Guardian Leader," he said on the command
channel. "Come in, Watchdog."
Again it was Tolwyn, and not Rollins, who answered his call. "Damn it,
Blair, get in there!'' he snapped. "You have to protect the Behemoth!"
"We're on it, Admiral," Blair replied. "But some support from the
destroyers would be a good idea. Coventry, too, if she's able."
"Negative on that," Tolwyn replied. "We've just spotted a flotilla of
Kilrathi cap ships closing on us. They're at extreme range but coming in
fast. Sheffield is moving to delay them. And Ajax is trying to clear a route
through the minefield."
"She'll never make it," Blair said. "You know the odds against spotting
every mine when you're in something as big as a destroyer."
"Coventry's launching her fighters, but she's in bad shape. And
Bondarevsky's been wounded. . ." The Admiral was struggling to maintain
control. He stopped, visibly gathering his composure before he spoke again.
"Just do your job, Blair. Tolwyn clear."
The channel went dead, and Blair cursed under his breath. Tolwyn was so
concerned with finding a way around or through those mines that he was
throwing away valuable assets just when they needed them most.
Blair dismissed the thought. Tolwyn would fight this battle his own
way. What mattered now was the flight wings part in it all.
Still skimming low over the curved body of the Behemoth, the Terran
fighters flashed past the pressurized section of the hull where the control
center and crew's quarters were housed. Beyond lay the battle zone, where
the two squadrons of Hellcats were already making their presence known
against the Strakha. Blair pulled up sharply as his sensors registered the
fighting, climbing steeply away from the weapons platform. His maneuver had
placed the two squadrons, Arrows and Thunderbolts, between the Kilrathi and
their target Now all they had to do was make the move count for something .
. .
Stalker Leader Loki System
Graldak let out a Kilrathi oath as he spotted the Terran fighters
forming near the hull of the weapons platform. He hadn't expected the apes
to fly so recklessly close to the surface of the huge weapons platform. It
was a daring move. A warrior's move. He recognized the hand of the one
Thrakhath had dubbed the Heart of the Tiger, the same one who had so nearly
defeated the attack force off Locanda IV. That was one ape who knew how to
fight. . . .
"So, Heart of the Tiger," he said over the comm channel. "You would
stand in my way? You will not stand long, I assure you."
The Behemoth was the primary target, but that did not preclude swatting
aside any resistance that sought to stop his attack run. With all weapons
armed, Graldak switched on his targeting computer and drove the Strakha
straight toward the Terran fighters.
Thunderbolt 300 Loki System
"Here they come!"
Blair saw the leading Strakha accelerating toward them just as Flint
gave her warning cry. The Kilrathi fighters were no longer spread out, but
formed a wedge behind their leader. They were keeping tighter formation than
usual, probably hoping to bore through the Terran defenses and reach
Behemoth through sheer numbers and concentrated firepower. A quick glance at
the sensor screen revealed the other Kilrathi ships now thoroughly engaged.
The two Hellcat squadrons tied up most of the enemy, while the rest were
being pursued by the half-squadron off of Coventry. The cruiser itself
limped in closer. Apparently Tolwyn was wrong about the situation aboard the
capital ship. . . .
"Close up," Blair ordered. These were the only Kilrathi ships in a
position to hit Behemoth for the moment, but unless the Terrans shifted to
meet the unexpected Imperial formation their advantage would be lost. "Form
on me."
But the cats were driving in too fast. An Arrow flashed past Blair,
blasters firing wildly, but three of the Strakha hit the interceptor with
massed fire. Blair tried to catch up to support the Arrow, but he was too
late. The Terran fighter's shields went down, and in seconds the Kilrathi
blasters chewed through armor and hull, boring into the reactor. The Arrow
went up in a blaze of raw energy.
It was only then that Blair realized it was Denise Mbuto's fighter.
Now the leader was almost on top of him, and the rest of the wedge
close behind. Blair set his crosshairs on the lead Strakha and opened fire.
Several Kilrathi ships began to return his volley, but Cobra and Vaquero
appeared from nowhere to engage on their flank, and in their haste to meet
the new threat, the Kilrathi did little more than graze Blair's shields.
He maintained fire on the leader, looping to follow as the wedge shot
past him. Fingers dancing over the fire controls, Blair called up a pair of
dumb-fire missiles. They were simple unguided rockets, without any of the
sophisticated homing systems common in other weapons in the Terran arsenal,
but in this situation they were exactly what Blair needed. If he fired any
of the other types, they were apt to be confused by the sheer number of
available targets. And Blair wanted the leader.
He kicked in his afterburners once more, driving right into the enemy
wedge. His targeting reticule centered over the lead Strakha and flashed,
and Blair's fingers stabbed at the fire controls. The two missiles leapt
from their launch rails almost as one, speeding straight toward the Kilrathi
ship. His opponent, realizing what was happening at the last possible
moment, started to swerve, but it was too late. The missiles detonated, and
the Kilrathi shields began to fluctuate wildly.
Blair locked on his blasters and opened fire.
The Kilrathi pilot continued his maneuver even as the armor was being
ripped off his stern section. The Strakha was changing course, but no longer
in an evasive turn. He was lining up on a vector only slightly different
from his previous heading . . . straight toward the Behemoth.
With a shock, Blair realized that the pilot's new course had his
fighter aimed directly at one of the exposed shield generator housings that
Tolwyn had indicated as a weak point in the weapons platform's defenses. The
Kilrathi pilot had decided to make his death count. . . .
The Strakha came apart, but hurtling chunks of debris stayed on course,
raining on the surface of the Behemoth. A ripple of explosions erupted from
the huge vessel's hull. A moment later, two nearby Kilrathi ships let loose
missile barrages to take advantage of collapsing shields on the weapons'
platform. Flint and Maniac accounted for the two cats, but the damage was
already done.
Blair could see lifepods and shuttles detaching from the Behemoth as
the explosions spread and swelled. He pulled up sharply, steering back
through a gauntlet of Kilrathi Strakha, knowing he had to put some distance
between his fragile fighter and the doomed planetkiller.
The final explosion, when it came, overwhelmed his sensors and external
cameras. For a moment he was flying blind, buffeted by spinning bits of
metal and stray shots from enemy fighters. Kilrathi jeers and taunts were
loud on the comm channel, a demonic cacophony of hate and glee.
Behemoth was gone. . . .
Elsewhere, the Kilrathi fighters were turning away. The Terran
resistance had been stiff, and with the destruction of the weapons platform
their mission was accomplished. As the Kilrathi began to withdraw in the
direction of their capital ships, Blair ordered the flight wing to regroup
near Victory. No one offered to pursue the retiring foe.
Tolwyn's face appeared on Blair's comm screen. "I'm ordering the fleet
to withdraw, he said, shock and pain etched plainly on his face. "Ajax will
stall the enemy fleet as long as possible. Land your fighters, Colonel." The
admiral's shoulders seemed to sag. "It seems we've lost our last chance . .
."
Flight Deck, TCS Victory Blackmane System
The retreat from Loki had cost the flight wing five more pilots, and
the destroyer Ajax was destroyed while attempting to hold off the enemy so
the rest of the squadron could withdraw through the jump point. Still, it
might have been considered a victory of sorts, extracting the Terran
squadron from the trap at Loki VI . . . if it hadn't been for the loss of
Behemoth.
The last hope for mankind. . . that was how the Behemoth was described.
Now it was gone. And it was Christopher Blair who had failed in his duty to
protect the weapon from the Kilrathi attack.
The bitter thought gnawed at Blair as he stood on the flight deck,
surrounded by other senior ship's officers. The failure had been his . . .
but right now, it was Admiral Geoff Tolwyn who was suffering the
consequences of that failure. The orders came in two days after the squadron
retreated to the Blackmane System. They were conveyed by a fast courier ship
that had carried Tolwyn's report to sector HQ and then returned. Tolwyn was
relieved of command over the erstwhile Behemoth Project. He was to strike
his flag aboard Victory and return to Torgo immediately to face an inquiry
into his handling of the entire operation.
Victory, meanwhile, was to maintain position and complete field repairs
pending the arrival of a new squadron commander. No one aboard was sure what
that portended
Tolwyn dressed as precisely as ever, but defeat was plain in his
carriage as he stepped onto the flight deck, his staff trailing behind him.
The admiral did not seem surprised to note that the turnout to see his
departure was smaller and less impressive than upon his arrival. His star
fell, and he with it. Tolwyn was well aware of the fact. He stopped to
return Eisen's crisp salute.
"I relieve you, sir," the captain said quietly.
"I stand relieved," Tolwyn replied. "Permission to leave the ship?"
"Granted, Admiral." Eisen saluted a second time.
"A word of warning," Tolwyn said, again returning the salute. "The cats
knew exactly where we were going, and when. They even knew exactly where to
strike." He paused, running a sour eye over the assembled officers behind
Eisen. His gaze seemed to come to rest on Blair. "I believe you may have a
leaky ship, Captain."
"With all due respect, sir," Eisen responded stiffly. "I resent any
such suggestion regarding my people. They've served this ship and the
Confederation with honor, one and all. There are never any guarantees when
it comes to battle, Admiral. And no such thing as certain victory, no matter
how awesome your weapon may be."
Tolwyn's expression was bleak. "Victory is certain enough now, Captain,
for the Kilrathi. I hope the honor of your crew is enough, in the fighting
that lies ahead. It will only get worse from here."
He turned away and stalked toward the shuttle without another word.
Climbing the ramp, he turned back to look at the flight deck one last time,
and again Blair felt that the admiral's gaze singled him from the rest. Then
Tolwyn boarded the craft, and the door swung shut behind him. The assembled
officers and men withdrew as the shuttle powered up.
The hangar area was empty by the time the shuttle rolled onto the open
deck beyond the force field curtain, rising slowly away from the carrier and
into the black void.
Bridge, TCS Victory Blackmane System
"Captain, we've got a ship coming through the Torgo jump point. Looks
like a big one . . ."
"On the main monitor," Eisen ordered, leaning forward in his chair. The
viewscreen showed a computer-enhanced view of open space, with no outward
sign of the jump point or the disturbance the sensors picked up indicating a
ship in transit.
Four days had passed since Tolwyn's departure, and aboard Victory and
the other ships in the ill-fated Behemoth Squadron, the passage of time was
starting to weigh heavily on crew morale. Being driven back with the loss of
the weapons platform Ч not to mention Ajax Ч was bad enough. But to wait
here, useless, without a word of the war from other quarters . . . that was
even worse.
A ship took form on the viewscreen, slightly larger than Victory but
similar in configuration. It was one of the latest models of escort carrier,
but its sleek, modern lines were marred by battle damage.
"Jesus," someone muttered. "Looks like half the flight deck got
cooked."
"Transponder code's on line, Captain," Rollins said a moment later.
"She's the Eagle. Captain Chalfonte."
"Confirming," the sensor officer added a moment later.
"Message coming in, Rollins reported. "They're sending across a
shuttle. No details, sir. Just . . . sending a shuttle. We're to stand by
and await further communication."
Eisen nodded. "Very well. Alert Flight Control we have an incoming
shuttle. Mr. Gessler, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room if
there's anything further."
Flight Control, TCS Victory Blackmane System
"Victory, Victory, this is shuttle Armstrong. Request landing clearance
and approach vector.
"Shuttle Armstrong, cleared to land," Blair replied. He was standing a
turn as OOD in Flight Control, one more way to keep himself busy so that he
wouldn't brood over recent events. He signaled to one of the technicians to
activate the carriers approach beacon.
The shuttle skimmed low over the flight deck and allowed the tractor
beams to lock on and pull it in. Blair monitored the landing, and when the
stubby little craft was down, he gave curt orders to activate the force
fields and revive pressure and gravity inside the hangar area. Behind him,
two of the techs were swapping speculations about the shuttle and its reason
for paying the ship a visit from Eagle, but Blair silenced them with a quick
look.
The shuttle doors opened up, and a single stocky figure appeared at the
top of the ramp. Blair stared, wide-eyed as the man glanced around the
hangar deck and gave an approving nod of his graying head. Rachel Coriolis
appeared at the bottom of the ramp, holding out a PDP so that the shuttle's
pilot could log in, but she nearly dropped it as she took in the rank
insignia on the man's well-worn flight suit.
It wasn't often that a full general visited the flight deck of a
carrier.
Blair wasted no time in getting to the flight deck to join Rachel. By
the time he reached the shuttle, General James Taggart had descended to the
deck, taking the data pad from the chief technician's hands. He was smiling
as he signed it and thrust it back at her.
"There, now, lassie, Сtis all legal and proper," the general said, his
thick Scots accent a welcome reminder of better days. He caught sight of
Blair and his grin broadened. "Och, lad, dinna hurry! I'm nae sae old that
ye maun rush tae see me before I keel over!"
"Paladin!" Blair said, saluting the man who had been his first squadron
leader on the old Tiger's Claw. "Er . . . General . . .
"Paladin I'll always be tae my auld mates, laddie," Taggart told him,
returning the salute carelessly and then seizing Blair's hand in a warm
handshake. " 'Tis aye good tae see ye again."
"Why didn t someone tell us you were on the shuttle?" Blair demanded.
"We would have laid on a proper welcome." He was thinking of the contrast
between Taggart's arrival and Tolwyn's just two weeks earlier.
"Och, lad, I cannae be bothered with all the pomp and circumstance. Ye
should ken that well enough by now. The business I'm on doesna allow time
for all that folderol."
"Business?"
"Aye, lad." Paladin stroked his salt-and-pepper beard and fixed Blair
with a steely stare. "The business of putting right the mess Auld Geoff made
of things, at Loki. I just hope Сtis nae too late tae salvage this mess."
The general gave him another smile. "So, if ye dinna mind, lad, I need tae
see Captain Eisen as soon as may be. But I'll be wanting tae talk to ye, as
well, soon enough."
General Taggart strode briskly toward the door, leaving Blair behind.
Rachel exchanged glances with him.
"That was General Taggart?" she asked as Paladin's broad back
disappeared through the doorway.
Blair nodded. "In the flesh."
"Good God," the woman said softly. "I feel sorry for the Kilrathi who
gets in his way . . ."
"The last one who tried ended up with a Paladin-sized hole in him,"
Blair agree. "I just wonder what the hell he's doing here. . .?"
Wing Commander's Quarters, TCS Victory Blackmane System
The door buzzer made an irritating noise, and Blair swung his feet from
his bunk and said "Enter" just to shut it off. He wasn't surprised to see
Paladin when the door slid open. "Come in, General," he said formally.
Taggart cocked an eyebrow at him. "General, is it, again? Have ye
decided tae go all formal on me, lad?"
Blair shrugged wearily. "It's hard to think of you as Paladin any more,
you know. It's been a long time."
"Those were the good days, though, laddie," Paladin told him, crossing
the cramped cabin to perch on the only chair. "I wish I was still out on the
firing line with you young lads and lasses, instead of flying a bloody desk.
"I wish you were out here, too," Blair told him. "A few more pilots
like we had in the old gang and we might've saved Behemoth last week."
"That bucket of bolts," Paladin said, making a face. "Auld Geoff really
thought that monster of his would work. He always believed that bigger was
better."
"You had a better solution, I take it? Kevin said you had some scheme
cooked up, over in Covert Ops." Blair couldn't help letting some of his
anger show in the comment.
Taggart studied him. "I hear you . . . heard about Angel," he said,
answering Blair's tone rather than his question. "In a tangle with
Thrakhath, no less."
"Yes, I did, you son of a bitch."
"I'm sorry that ye had tae find out that way."
"How long have you known?" Blair demanded.
Paladin didn't answer right away. "Since. . . since before Concordia
was lost," he admitted.
Blair felt the anger surging within, his fists clenching with the
sudden desire to strike out at the man. "You bastard," he said. "When I
asked, you stood there and lied to me."
"Laddie, I had to do it. I was under orders myself. . . ."
"All the missions we flew together Ч they didn't mean a damn thing, did
they?" Blair demanded. "You out there on my wing, protecting me . . ."
"Don't you see that's what I was doing by not telling you?" Paladin
said. "Look, ladie . . . look what ye almost did out there, when ye learned
of it all. I was protecting you again . . . from yourself."
Blair looked away, at the holo projector sitting beside his bed. He
hadn't played the message again since learning she was dead, but he heard it
in his dreams all too often. "You know what she meant to me."
"Aye, lad, I do indeed." Taggart paused. "But we're fighting a war,
son. We've all lost someone close to us. It doesna make you special."
"Yeah, right," Blair said. "I've heard the whole routine before. It
doesn't get better with repetition."
Paladin shrugged. "I suppose not. But the fact is, lad, that we couldna
tell anyone about Angel. Not until now. Not without ruining the work she did
before she died."
He didn't answer, but he met Taggart's eyes.
"Her last mission was a part of my project, laddie. Not sae grand,
perhaps, as Auld Geoff and his Behemoth, But a way tae end this war, once
and for all. And Сtis up tae you, Chris Blair, tae finish what Angel
started."
Captain's Ready Room, TCS Victory Blackmane System
Like his arrival, the briefing Paladin gave the next morning was a
low-key affair. Instead of an audience of aides and ship's officers, the
general limited the briefing to Blair and Eisen. He wasted no time on
useless preliminaries or self-congratulation.
"We've got a lot to cover, and damned little time to do it in." Blair
always noticed that Paladin's accent faded as he focused on important
matters, and today was no exception. "Covert Ops lost out to Admiral Tolwyn
when it came time for HQ to decide on a response to the Kilrathi biological
threat, but like him we've had an operation in train for several years. Its
a long shot, I'll grant you, but it can work. It has to."
Blair noticed a look of distaste on Eisen's face. After Behemoth,
another long shot was the last thing any of them wanted.
"You hae already been briefed on the seismic instability of Kilrah,"
Paladin went on. "It was central to the whole Behemoth project, the notion
that even if the weapon wasn't able to bust a planet cold, it could at least
shake the place apart when applied against the right target. Our project
tackled the same concept from anither angle, one more in keeping with the
philosophy of Covert Ops."
He punched a code into the keypad in front of him and the map table
came to life, projecting an image of a torpedo-shaped device into the air
between the three men. "This is the Temblor Bomb," he said quietly. "It was
developed by Doctor Philip Severin, one of the top research men in the
Confederation. It's been undergoing tests for some time now . . . nearly a
decade, in fact."
The view changed to schematics. It brought back unpleasant thoughts of
Tolwyn's Behemoth lecture, and Blair shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Eisen's face was a study in bland neutrality as he regarded the holographic
image
"The bomb operates on the principle of seismic resonance," Taggart
continued. "Detonated in the right place, at the proper juncture of tectonic
fault lines, it will set up a series of quakes which will increase in
intensity until Kilrah is quite literally shaken apart." Paladin spread his
hands. "Unfortunately, the weapon doesna lend itself to pretty
demonstrations on backwater worlds. There's only a handful of planets we
know of where the Temblor Bomb could do its work, and Kilrah is at the top
of the list. The High Command wanted something they could escalate up to
gradually, so they threw their weight behind Admiral Tolwyn and the
Behemoth."
Blair frowned. "I've said all along that I'm against Ч "
"Laddie," Taggart said sternly. "I'd like nothing better than to find a
solution that didn't involve civilian casualties, but the simple fact is we
do not have one at hand." He paused. "Right now we have to stop the Empire
cold. Not just a defeat, but a final defeat. The Imperial hierarchy is so
centralized, so built around the idea of Kilrah as the core of their entire
culture, that the destruction of the planet will bring the rest of the
Empire to a halt. Even if there are a few warlords who want to fight, the
other Kilrathi worlds will come apart as clans and factions and splinter
groups start fighting for a new equilibrium. And that's our only hope of
bringing the war to a quick end."
Eisen looked at him. "The brass must have thought a negotiated
settlement was possible," he commented. "They wanted Tolwyn to demonstrate
Behemoth and make the Kilrathi come to the peace table."
"Aye, that was the hope," Paladin admitted slowly. "Though you must
know that the admiral had no plans tae stop with Loki. He knew, just as I
do, that Thrakhath and his Emperor willna stop fighting as long as they see
a hope of winning. And a balance of power, their bioweapons against our
Behemoth, would have meant the advantage of numbers and strategic position
was still with the Empire."
"It sounds to me like there was never any choice at all," Blair said
quietly.
"Laddie, there wasn't." Paladin looked grim. "Fact is, even if Auld
Geoff had decided tae hold off, I was ready to launch a Temblor Bomb attack
on Kilrah on my ain authority."
"What?" Eisen looked shocked. "You'd have been court-martialed six ways
from Sunday!"
"Aye, true enough," Paladin said. "But my career doesna mean much set
against the end of this damned war. Our hope was that the cats would hear
about Behemoth's attack on Loki and assemble the bulk of their reserve fleet
tae intercept it. I persuaded Captain Chalfonte tae take Eagle into Imperial
territory tae launch the Temblor Bomb strike on Kilrah while the cats were
chasing Behemoth. But they were a step ahead of us, it seems. Thrakhath had
a strike force ready at Loki, and never touched the reserves. Eagle ran into
trouble before we got anywhere near Kilrah. We had tae break off and retreat
with heavy damage."
"So it's over, then," Blair said bitterly.
"Not yet, it isn't," Taggart said. "That's why I'm here. Now that
Behemoth has failed, Sector HQ has authorized the Temblor strike. This time,
when we go in, we'll be supported by a fleet. If we can penetrate the
defenses that turned Eagle back, and get a few fighters through, we can
still drop the bomb and destroy the planet."
"That doesn't sound like a long shot," Blair said. "It sounds like no
shot at all. A fleet couldn't penetrate all the way to Kilrah, and anything
less than a fleet would be carved up before you could say here, kitty,
kitty!
"Dinna be sae sure, laddie," Paladin said with a wolfish grin. "Covert