together."
"Maybe it was best that we couldn't make it happen," he went on
doggedly. "It might be the best thing if we don't try to push it now . . ."
"Are you backing out on me?" Her expression hovered between concern and
anger. "I thought . . ."
"Look, Rachel, by this time tomorrow, God only knows where I'll be.
Even if we carry out the mission, the deck's stacked against any of us
coming back from Kilrah. It isn't fair to start something with you that I
might not be able to finish. I wouldn't want you to have to go through what
I did . . . with Angel."
"Pilots . . ." She shook her head. "They'd rather crash and burn than
make a commitment. Look, Chris, I've been there, remember? I know what it's
like. And I also know that if we keep putting our own lives aside because of
what might happen tomorrow, eventually we'll run out of tomorrows. We'll
never have anything to look back at, anything to remember except the war,
just fighting and killing. I want something else to remember . . . whether
it's one night, or an eternity. Don't you?"
"Do you really mean that? You want to go ahead, even knowing it might
not be more than one night?''
She met his eyes and nodded. "I'd rather we had just one night
together. Especially if the alternative is . . . never having any time at
all."
"Your shift . . ."
"Ends at midnight. I'll skip the dinner and the music if you'll be
there for me when I come . . ."
"Midnight, then." She stood when he did, and they came together in a
long, lingering kiss. "Midnight . . ."
Excalibur 300 Hyperion System
Acceleration pressed Blair into his seat as the Excalibur burst into
open space. He cut in his engines and steered hard to port, toward the
unseen jump point that would carry him to the enemy homeworld.
To the real Heart of the Tiger, he thought idly.
"Excalibur three-zero-zero, clear and under power," Blair said aloud.
"Lancelot Flight, form on me and proceed as planned."
The other three pilots acknowledged, closing around him. Four Excalibur
fighters, to attack the Imperial homeworld. It still seemed like sheer
madness. But this time it was truly mankind's last chance for victory.
"Lancelot Flight, Lancelot Flight, this is Round Table," Eisen's voice
crackled over the comm channel. "Good luck to you all . . . and Godspeed."
Blair didn't reply. Instead he checked his power levels, then spoke to
the other pilots. "Go to cloaks . . . now!" he ordered, switching on his own
cloaking system. There was no apparent effect, other than the sudden
increase in the fighter's power drain. Weapons and shields were useless
while the shroud concealed the craft, but detection would be nearly
impossible. Already the other Excaliburs had vanished. He was all alone in
an endless night.
He checked the range to the jump point, and asked the computer for an
ETA. Ten minutes. . . .
The timing of this phase of the operation was critical. The Confed's
battle fleet had jumped into the Hyperion System from nearby Freya,
challenging the local Kilrathi garrison forces with a series of strike
attacks by fighters and capital ships. Victory had remained in reserve
throughout nearly a week of combat ops, keeping to the fringes of the
action. The Kilrathi were given every opportunity to commit their forces to
the system, and they'd pumped in enough ships to put the Terran fleet at a
serious disadvantage. It was all a part of the plan, to encourage the cats
to thin out their home defenses and divert attention away from Kilrah. But
it had been a costly fight already, and it was likely to get worse.
Today the admiral commanding the fleet had passed the word to General
Taggart aboard Victory. There was no guarantee that the fleet could maintain
the fight for more than a few more hours. Then they would have to break off,
or go down fighting. Paladin had given the orders. The attack was on at
last.
The carrier edged toward the jump point, seemingly to reinforce the
Terran battle group built around the Hermes and the Invincible which had
been heavily engaged in the area for several hours. According to
intelligence reports, the Kilrathi were unaware of the Terran survey work
done around Hyperion, and thus thought the Confederation knew nothing of the
Kilrah jump point. But they had to be careful to keep from tipping their
hands too soon.
As it was, they nearly ran into trouble when a Kilrathi destroyer
escort left the enemy fleet on course for the jump point, but Eisen turned
the situation to their advantage by pretending to pursue the enemy ship.
That ship had passed through the jump point less than half an hour ago, and
that transjump became the main reason for Blair's present preoccupation with
the ticking countdown clock.
If the escort withdrew to Kilrah to summon additional reinforcements,
the Terrans had to hope nothing else was waiting close to the jump point on
the other side. Otherwise they might be blundering into trouble before the
mission was even fairly under way.
He checked the ETA again. Three minutes . . .
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Kilrah System
"Message from the escort Ghordax, Lord Prince. From the fleet at
Hyperion."
Thrakhath allowed his throne to swivel past the viewscreen he was
contemplating so he could look down on Melek. "What is their report?"
"'The battle proceeds well, Lord Prince,'' Melek said bowing. "The
Terrans cannot last long."
"So there is no further need for reinforcements, then?"
"No, Lord Prince. None."
"Good," Thrakhath said. "I do not wish to further disrupt our buildup.
Is there any word from the Logistics Masters on the timetable for launching
the Grand Fleet?"
"Six eights of hours, Lord Prince. The bombardment missiles will be
fully loaded by then, and the fleet can break orbit any time after that."
"Excellent. Then we will soon be on our way to the Terran homeworld.
This time they shall not turn us back." Thrakhath turned his throne again,
gesturing to the screen. It showed a view of Kilrah's orbital yards, with
capital ships grouped around orbital depots and swarms of smaller craft
moving among them, preparing the Grand Fleet for the last great campaign.
"Victory, Melek," the prince continued. "It smells sweet, does it not?"
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek replied dutifully.
"Still, there is one thing missing," Thrakhath went on, almost to
himself. "I can only hope for one last chance to meet the Heart of the Tiger
in battle. It will make our triumph all the more complete . . ."
Thrakhath continued to study the viewscreen, the light of victory in
his eyes.
Excalibur 300 Kilrah System
Jumpshock made Blair sluggish, but he forcing his body to obey his
will, he switched power from the transjump drive to the cloaking device.
Powering up his engines, he steered the fighter out of the jump point,
setting course inward, toward the Kilrathi homeworld.
On his sensor screen, another blip flickered into existence astern,
then faded a few moments later. That was Vagabond, acting as wingman on the
mission. Maniac and Flint followed in succession, apparently without being
noticed. There were no Kilrathi ships in the immediate area, though the
escort they had trailed in the Hyperion System was at the very edge of
detection range, also on course toward Kilrah. Hopefully, if they spotted
anything suspicious at all they wouldn't be able to react until the cloaked
Terran ships were well clear of the area.
Blair's comm monitor came alive with an image of Paladin. The old
warrior had warned him that the computers aboard all four fighters would
trigger periodic briefings as they headed in toward their goal. This tape,
for Blair, had been personalized. Taggart smiled out at him. "Laddie, we've
covered this ground backwards and forwards waiting for the mission to
launch, but I'll give you the straight dope one more time now. Since you're
seeing this, you've made the jump successfully, and you're in the Kilrathi
System now." The screen changed to show a chart of the Kilrah star system,
with navpoints glowing brightly. "Your first job, now that you're through,
is tae bring your fighters in tae the first asteroid depot. There you'll
find a stock of fuel, spares, and missiles, everything you'll need tae carry
you all the way in tae the outer moon of Kilrah." The first depot faded, and
another more distant asteroid was indicated. "Should ye find the first
position compromised, laddie, there is a second choice. But remember, if ye
canna keep one depot in reserve, there'll nae be enough fuel in your birds
tae get you through the jump point after the mission's done. The second
depot is supposed to be for the trip back but I ken well you'll do what ye
have tae if the mission depends upon it."
Paladin's face appeared on the screen again. "Good luck, laddie. You'll
need it.
The screen went blank.
Blair set his course for the nearer depot, knowing that the others
would be doing the same. They were maintaining absolute comm silence, hoping
to avoid any detection by the Kilrathi. Surprise was their only hope . . .
surprise sheer flying skill and pure, unadulterated good luck.
He hoped it would be enough.
Excalibur 302 Kilrah System
A warning alarm beeped for attention, and Lieutenant Winston Chang
checked his sensor board. There was something ahead, a powered target that
glowed amber on his screen as the computer tried to identify it as friend or
foe. A moment later, it changed to a reddish orange. An enemy, then . . .
no, two enemies, a pair of Darket fighters, evidently making a routine
patrol sweep.
Vagabond muttered an old Chinese curse under his breath and cut power
to his engines. The two Darket were dead ahead and only a few hundred
kilometers beyond lay the large asteroid where the first depot was
established. In order to reach their destination, transmitters aboard the
Excaliburs were programmed to send out short-burst signals to activate the
locator transponders in the depot. As long as those two Darket were in the
neighborhood, the Terrans were stuck. The depot might as well be around
Sirius.
Meanwhile, there was another danger. If the Kilrathi got too close,
they would spot the Terran ships, cloaked or not.
The two light fighters were making a slow, graceful turn. Vagabond
warily watched them, alert for any signs of their detecting the location of
one of the Terran fighters. He wondered about the others. Their original
tight formation had become tenuous en route to the asteroid, and he was no
longer sure where any of his comrades might be.
The Darket were going to pass close to him . . . too close. Vagabond
engaged his engines again and started to bank away, but it was too late.
Suddenly the two Kilrathi ships were picking up speed, swinging around,
pointed directly at him. Cloaked, he had no shields. A few shots would be
enough to knock him out.
He cut the cloak, shunting power to the weapons and shield generators
and cutting back on his own course with a sharp pull on the steering yoke.
Maybe if he disposed of these two fast enough there would be no time for
them to summon help.
One of the Darket opened fire just as the green light on his shield
status display appeared. Blasters pounded at the shields, but to little
effect. He returned fire with blasters and a pair of heat-seekers, closing
the range fast. The Darket's shields crumbled beneath the heavy pounding,
and a moment later his beams bored through armor and set off the missiles
slung under the Kilrathi crafts wings. He was close enough now to actually
be caught in the fireball, and the energy release and spinning debris
overloaded his own shielding.
In that moment, the second Darket engaged. He didn't have to look at
the damage control panel to know that he was losing armor around his
reactor. Desperately, Vagabond tried to dodge, but the controls were
sluggish.
He broke comm silence. "I can't shake him! I'm going up." And just
before the Darket fired again, he managed to add a final plea. "Don't give
up, Colonel. You've got to take them down . . . for all of us who didn't
make it!"
He slammed the switch to trigger his ejection system, praying he wasn't
already too late.
Excalibur 300 Kilrah System
Blair saw Vagabond's Excalibur go up in flames of fury. He let out a
cry of rage and grief. The Chinese pilot's last words echoed in his mind,
and he made a grim, silent vow that Chang's last effort wouldn't be in vain.
Then Maniac's fighter appeared on his sensors swooping in from beyond
the expanding fireball. Blair spotted the Excalibur a moment later as Maniac
opened fire, battering through the Darket's shields. The fighter exploded.
His satisfaction was short-lived, though. Flint broke comm silence a
moment later. "We've got trouble, boys," she said. "Heading our way."
Two more Darket appeared from beyond the bulk of the asteroid, moving
slowly but gathering speed as they came. Blair's comm monitor picked up a
transmission from one of them. They were summoning help.
"Lancelot Flight, break off action," he ordered sharply. "Recloak and
head for the backup rendezvous."
It galled him to run, but they didn't have much choice. Though the
Excaliburs could deal with these two fighters easily enough, they couldn't
count on being able to refuel and rearm at this depot before a swarm of
additional Kilrathi ships turned up. A thorough search of the asteroid would
turn up the depot, and if they were caught inside the result would be
disastrous.
He hit his afterburners and punched in the new course. Paladin's
warning ran through his mind. With this depot compromised and the secondary
one depleted, the Terrans were on a one-way trip to Kilrah.
if they made it that far.
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Kilrah System
The Audience Hall was empty except for the Crown Prince, brooding on
his throne. Melek hastened to the foot of the dais, bowing low. Thrakhath
raised his head at the retainer's approach.
"I left orders that I was not to be disturbed," the Prince rumbled.
"An urgent message, Lord Prince," Melek told him. "One of our patrols
reported engaging Terran fighters. Here in our own system . . . and they
escaped using cloak technology."
"Ape ships . . . here?" Thrakhath straightened, eyes flashing with
anger. "Cloaked . . . spies, seeking word of our fleet, then."
"We cannot say, Lord Prince," Melek said. "But . . . we intercepted one
exchange of messages between them. And our computers have identified the
voice of the apparent leader." He paused. "It was . . . the one named Blair.
The Heart of the Tiger."
"Him . . ." Thrakhath stood slowly, drawing himself to his full height.
"That one would not come on a mere spy mission. Could it be . . . could the
Terrans be planning a strike? Perhaps they plan to attack our fleet while it
is still taking on armaments . . . to break up our attack before we can
leave orbit."
"It is possible, Lord Prince. But we cannot be sure." Melek hesitated.
"The cruiser Kheerakh discovered a hidden supply cache in an asteroid near
where the encounter took place . . . but I fear the fools destroyed it by
bombardment rather than investigating."
"I trust Kheerakh has a new captain now?"
"Yes, Lord Prince. One who is . . . less impulsive
"We must look to our defenses, Melek. I do not believe the Terrans can
mount a serious threat, but even a few shipkiller missiles released into the
fleet while it is bunched up would be an . . . annoying setback. Order
fighter patrols around the orbital yards doubled." Thrakhath paused. And
have my personal ship and squadron readied to launch on short notice. If the
Heart of the Tiger has come, I mean to take him myself."
Melek bowed again. "As you order, Lord Prince. He backed away, leaving
Thrakhath alone in the empty hall.
It seemed the apes were far more resilient than the Emperor's grandson
had ever realized. Melek wondered what other surprises the Terrans might
have in store.
Covert Ops Depot #3 Kilrah System
They had come farther than Blair ever dared to hope they would. The
three Excaliburs located the backup depot and set down long enough to refuel
and replace the missiles Maniac used to destroy the Darket that took out
Vagabond. From there, they pushed into the Kilrah System, all the way to the
outer moon of the Kilrathi homeworld itself, and the last Terran depot.
Like the first station, this depot was a crude chamber carved out of
solid rock with mining lasers. A force field curtain allowed the interior to
be pressurized, so Blair and his two pilots worked unencumbered by bulky
pressure gear. But the facilities were primitive, and the work was difficult
enough even so. The near-weightless conditions didn t help matters much,
either. Though the equipment had virtually no weight, it retained its full
mass, and none of the three were accustomed to working under such
conditions. Care and caution were required at a time when every instinct
cried out for them to hurry, to finish the job and get back into space as
quickly as possible. It made for frayed nerves.
Nonetheless, they did the work, exchanging the missiles slung under
Blair's Excalibur for one of the two massive Temblor Bombs stowed in the
depot. He decided against loading the second one onto a different fighter.
Originally, he hoped to have two fighters fitted with bombs, each with a
fully-armed escort, but Vagabond's death changed his plans. A fighter
without missiles wasn't worth much in a dogfight, and one escort couldn't
hope to cover two bombers at once. If this run failed Ч and anyone survived
to return to the depot Ч they could try again later, perhaps. But for now
Blair figured two fighters flying cover gave him that much more of a chance
to make the bombing run successful.
With the bomb loaded, they topped off their fuel tanks and ran a final
test of their on-board systems.
"Do you really think this is going to work?" Flint asked as they were
finishing. "Or are we just going through the motions?"
"It'll work," Blair said. "We have to make it work." He was still
thinking about Vagabond's last transmission. So many people died to get them
here, starting with Angel. Blair was determined to make their sacrifices
count.
"I'd be a damned sight happier if Vagabond was still with us," Marshall
said. "He wasn't very flashy in the cockpit, but he was steady. And we'll be
missing him soon enough, I bet."
"I already miss him," Blair growled. "And not just because he was a
good wingman." He caught sight of the sheepish look on Maniac's face. "Look
. . . we'll all miss him, the way we miss every single one of the others who
bought it. I read somewhere that the darkest times are supposed to bring out
the best in people." Blair looked away. "I don't know about that. All I do
know is this: we've got to finish the job. Because if we don't, there's
nobody else to pick up and carry on after us. So . . . give me everything
you've got. That's all I can ask."
He turned away and shoved a chip cartridge into the portable computer
they used for their tests. The oversized monitor screen came on, and Paladin
looked down at the three with a serious expression.
"This is the final briefing, laddie," Taggart's recorded image told
them. "By now you've finished loading the T-Bomb, and you're ready for the
final phase of the mission. I pray to God you can carry it out. If you canna
do it, I dinna ken who can."
Paladin was replaced by a satellite photo showing part of the surface
of Kilrah, a long, jagged canyon in the middle of rocky desert land. "You
are looking at your target, a deep natural canyon that goes down nearly a
mile. It was formed by one of the most active fault lines on the planet." A
computer-generated map replaced the photo image. "If our calculations are
correct, this point, here, near the northern end of the canyon, is critical.
Three faults come together at this one point, and if the Temblor Bomb is
detonated there it should set up a chain reaction of quakes that will
devastate Kilrah."
Taggart appeared again. "Lay it in there sweet and easy laddie. The
exact coordinates are already preprogrammed in your flight computers. To
make the run, though, you'll have to descend into the atmosphere, into the
canyon itself, and drop the bomb on the target. Because you'll need your
shields to handle a high-speed atmospheric insertion, you'll have tae go in
the last stretch without your cloaks. It'll be dangerous . . . but if you
move fast and hit hard, you'll have a chance."
The general paused, and Blair had the feeling his old eyes were looking
right out of the screen at him. "It's almost over, laddie. You and your
people are the best for the job, and I know you'll do Terra proud. You'll be
in my prayers, all of you. Good luck."
The screen went blank, and Blair turned back to the others. "All right,
time to saddle up. We've got a message to deliver to the Emperor, and the
clock is ticking."
Excalibur 300 Kilrah System
Kilrah was a dirty orange-brown sphere that filled his field of vision,
swelling visibly as the Terran fighters pressed forward at full thrust.
Blair ran his eyes over his instrument board, checking over all systems one
more time and praying nothing would go wrong now that the final attack was
so near.
His hull temperature gauges were just beginning to register the
friction of the tenuous upper atmosphere. Soon he would have to switch to
shields or drastically cut his rate of descent. Blair waited until the
cockpit was noticeably hot, until the outer hull was beginning to glow
faintly, before he finally cut the cloak and activated the shield
generators.
Screaming through the thickening atmosphere under the dull light of
Kilrah's red-orange sun, three Terran fighters plummeted downward toward a
final rendezvous with death.
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Kilrah System
"Lord Prince, the ground-based defenses have picked up three intruders.
Terran fighters matching the description of those engaged yesterday."
Thrakhath rose from his throne and stepped down from the dais. "The
ground defenses?" he demanded. "Is every one of my ship captains blind,
then?"
"No, Lord Prince," Melek said, voice quavering a little. "But the
Terrans . . . are entering the atmosphere. They came out of cloak almost
directly below our present orbit, descending at high speed."
"Scramble all available interceptors, Melek," Thrakhath commanded,
starting toward the door. "Including my own squadron. We will show them they
cannot defile the Homeworld with impunity!"
Excalibur 300 Kilrah
"Eighty kilometers up . . . two hundred ten kilometers to target,"
Blair said over the comm channel. There was no need for comm silence now.
The Kilrathi had surely detected the Terran fighters. "Maniac, you take
point. Open me a path. And you watch my tail, Flint. They're going to throw
everything they can our way."
"Affirmative," Flint replied.
"You got it," Marshall chimed in a moment later. His fighter swept past
Blair's to take the lead.
He was hardly in position before the first targets appeared ahead. "We
got bogies," Blair said. "They look like atmospheric craft Ч ground-based
interceptors.
"Piece of cake," Maniac told him. The Excalibur's afterburners cut in,
and Marshall surged ahead, his blasters beginning to fire as he closed in on
the enemy aircraft.
Conventional atmospheric fighters weren't as well-equipped as space
fighters, but they were fast and maneuverable in their own element.
Marshall's guns cut a swath through the leading fighters, but the others
rolled out and then swung inward from either flank, unleashing a massive
bombardment. Caught in a crossfire from four aircraft at once, Maniac rolled
left to concentrate on one threat. Blair banked sharply right and opened
fire on the remaining pair. His blasters raked across the nearer target,
which came apart under the savage force of the beams.
The second fighter looped up, turning away from the battle and
accelerating fast. Evidently the pilot had decided against a glorious death
today . . .
"There's more of the bastards up ahead, Colonel," Marshall reported as
he finished off his last opponent and swung back into formation. "Looks like
we're not welcome around here."
"As long as they're just conventional aircraft, they shouldn't be much
trouble," Blair said. "Stay focused, though. You can bet they'll bring in
the big guns soon enough . . ."
"Targets! Targets! Targets!" Flint chanted. "I've got six . . . eight
targets on my board. Coming in from orbit!"
They weren't showing on Blair's sensors yet, so they were still at
extreme range. "Watch em, Flint," he ordered. A whole squadron of
space-based fighters would be a lot harder to handle than the aircraft
ahead, but they'd be hard-pressed to close the range as long as the Terrans
could keep moving.
The second wave of interceptors closed in from below, eight
high-performance jet aircraft in a tight formation. They broke just as
Maniac opened fire, scattering, curving in on the Terrans and engaging with
missiles and beam weapons. Once again Maniac and Blair had to engage them,
and by the time the attackers had been destroyed or forced to flee Blair
realized what the enemy strategy was. Each time the Terrans got caught in a
dogfight, however short, the orbital fighters closed the range a little more
. . .
Excalibur 303 Kilrah
A near miss by a missile buffeted her fighter, and Lieutenant Robin
Peters had to fight her steering yoke to maintain control. It had been years
since she'd last had to fight a battle in a planetary atmosphere, where all
the rules were different from those she was used to in deep space fighting.
Shock waves carried. . . and shields were weakened by the energy they
absorbed from friction in high-speed maneuvers.
"They're firing," Flint reported. "One Vaktoth . . . and a Bloodfang,
both of them in combat range. More Vaktoth coming up fast behind them."
"Bloodfang . . . Thrakhath s personal fighter." Blair's voice was grim.
"Damn it all!"
She nodded Intelligence reports on the Prince's personal fighter,
code-named Bloodfang by the Confederation, suggested it would be one hell of
a tough opponent. "Don't know if I can take the bastard, skipper," she said.
"You have any bright ideas?"
"Go to afterburners," Blair ordered. "Let's see if we can outrun them."
She kicked in the extra power, but the Vaktoth matched her. . .
continued closing the range. Another missile detonated, even closer this
time. "No joy, skipper," she said. "Looks like there's going to be a fight .
. ."
Kilrathi blaster fire probed at her rear shields, sapping the power
levels with each hit. Cursing, she pulled up in a sharp loop and opened fire
on one of her two pursuers with blasters and a spread of four missiles. The
two fighters were having as much trouble fighting in atmosphere as she was,
and the weakened forward shields of her target went down under the fury of
her attack. The Vaktoth exploded in a shower of debris, and Flint let out a
whoop of triumph.
It died on her lips as the Bloodfang opened fire. She tried to roll
out, but blasters pounded at her shields. They were going down . . . and a
pair of heat seekers were already on the way.
"He's got me, skipper!" she called. Can t . . evade. Don't forget . . .
I could have loved Ч "
She didn't live to finish the sentence.
Excalibur 300 Kilrah
"Flint!" Blair shouted, but it was too late. The rearmost Excalibur
went up in a dazzling fireball, and Robin Peters was gone.
A new voice crackled in his headphones. "So it shall be with you as
well, Heart of the Tiger." He recognized the harsh, sibilant voice.
Thrakhath . . . "You are foolhardy, to venture with so few against my
Homeworld. Once before you lacked the courage to fight me. This time, you
shall not escape. Welcome, Heart of the Tiger, to Kilrah . . . and to your
death!"
"The canyon's in sight ahead, Colonel," Marshall reported. "I'll drop
back and have the next dance. You get in there and do your stuff!"
Blair hesitated. Thrakhath had challenged him once again . . . and he
couldn't stand and fight. It took every bit of his self-control to grit his
teeth and acknowledge Marshall's call.
Maniac executed a tight Immelman loop, swinging up and around to head
back toward the on-coming Kilrathi fighters. Thrakhath's Bloodfang was still
well in the lead, but there were two others closing fast.
Blair saw the canyon ahead, a long, jagged scar on the surface of
Kilrah. His target was there, at the far end of the deep trench . . .
"Watch your tail, Colonel!" Maniac called suddenly. "Don't know if I
can cover you!"
His sensor board told the story. Thrakhath had ignored Maniac's
Excalibur entirely, refusing to be drawn into a dogfight. Instead he had
plunged past Marshall, and the two trailing Vaktoth were all over the Terran
pilot now. Blair cursed aloud Maniac couldn't last long against two heavy
fighters . . .
And his underarmed Excalibur was no match for Thrakhath's Bloodfang.
He swung sharply left, away from the canyon, as the Kilrathi prince
opened fire. The blaster shots went wide but the Bloodfang followed his
turn, still clinging stubbornly to his tail. All the advantages lay with
Thrakhath now.
Blair was only dimly aware of the explosion higher up and off to his
right. His monitor told him it was one of the Vaktoth facing Maniac. Somehow
Marshall had managed to savage one of his foes, but the other was still
pressing hard. For the moment Blair couldn't afford to think about him,
though. He cut in full afterburners and tried to climb up and out of range
of Thrakhath's fighter. A Kilrathi missile exploded against his rear
shields, sending the power levels fluctuating wildly. And still Thrakhath
held on behind him.
"Heads up, Colonel! Incoming!" Maniac's call was loud and almost
exultant. Marshall had swung away from his second opponent and was diving
down on Thrakhath, heedless of the Vaktoth behind him slashing at his
shields with bolt after bolt of raw energy.
Marshall released two missiles, then two more, holding steady on his
target and refusing to be drawn off by the dire threat behind him.
"Shields are failing," he said as he released the missiles, his voice
almost matter of fact now. "Looks like you're on your own now, Colonel. For
what it's worth. I'm proud I flew with you . . ."
And then his fighter was gone, too, an expanding cloud of flame and
smoke and whirling debris. Blair thought he caught a glimpse of the
Excalibur's escape pod boosting clear of the explosion, straining to reach
orbital velocity but he wasn't sure. And even if Maniac had somehow managed
to survive that blast, he wouldn't be playing any further part in this
battle.
Blair was alone.
He threw the Excalibur into a tight turn to port and opened fire with
his blasters just as Marshall's first two missiles detonated against
Thrakhath's shields. The Bloodfang passed close beside Blair's craft, and he
maintained his tight turn to stay lined up on the Kilrathi fighter. The
other missiles struck the Prince's rear shields, and Blair squeezed the
trigger again. Beams tore through the weakened shields, chopping through
armor.
"Curse you, ape!" Thrakhath snarled. "You have won today, Heart of the
Tiger: But it will not bring back your mate . . . and it will not save your
kind from the vengeance of the Empire. This I swear!"
Explosions tore through the Bloodfang, and it seemed to stagger in
mid-air before plunging downward. Blair watched as Thrakhath fought to
maintain control, saw the nose just start to come up as the Prince managed
one last masterful maneuver. But it was too late. The Bloodfang ploughed
into the red-lit desert floor, erupting in fire and thunder.
There were still several fighters above Blair, but they seemed stunned
by the loss of their leader. He turned his fighter back toward the canyon
and opened up his throttles. Perhaps there was just time to start his run
before the Kilrathi recovered . . .
He dropped down into the steep-sided, twisting gorge It took all his
skill to weave through that narrow gash in the desert. His HUD reeled off
the range to the preprogrammed drop coordinates, and Blair's thumb grew
tense hovering over the switch that would release the Temblor Bomb from the
belly of his fighter.
A part of him recoiled from what he had to do. The destruction of an
entire planet, warriors and civilians alike. Once he would never even have
considered making this desperate gambler's last throw. What had led to this
moment, then? Was it just a thirst for vengeance? Thrakhath's death had left
him feeling curiously empty of feeling, as if all his hate after Angel's
death had been for nothing. It had been the same with Hobbes. In the end,
revenge was a sterile thing. He could slaughter every Kilrathi, here and in
the farthest reaches of the Empire, and the killing would never change the
facts. Angel and Cobra and Vaquero and all the others would still be dead,
and his life would still be empty.
He felt as if they were all there in his mind Vagabond . . . Flint . .
. even Maniac, who in the end had risen above their long rivalry and given
his life so that Blair could finish the mission. But in the long run, he
knew it was wrong to use that bomb in the name of those who had died.
His range indicator continued to count down . . .
Blair thought of the ones who hadn't died. Paladin and Eisen, Admiral
Tolwyn and his nephew. Rachel Coriolis, who had accepted the fact that he
might never come back and still dared to love him. They were the ones who
counted. And if the War went on, they would ultimately pay the same price as
all the ones who had gone before. He pictured Victory broken and shattered
as he had last seen Concordia, imagined plagues spreading across Terra as
they had spread on Locanda Four. It was war to the knife with the Kilrathi.
Kill or be killed. Not for revenge. Not for hate. But for simple
survival of the human species.
He gritted his teeth and watched the range tick down. The target was
coming up fast. It was now or never . . .
His thumb stabbed down on the release, and as the bomb dropped away he
jerked hard back on the steering yoke and cut in his afterburners. The
Excalibur climbed fast, the atmosphere screaming past as the fighter
accelerated. A Vaktoth had followed him into the canyon and opened fire as
Blair pulled up. The Kilrathi pilot followed, but at that moment the Temblor
Bomb went off, and the shock wave threw the Imperial craft against the side
of the narrow trench. The fireball was lost in the greater blast of the
bomb.
He had to wrestle with his own controls as the blast battered at his
Excalibur. The rear shields failed, and Blair thought he could feel the
impact of bits of debris against the tail section of the fighter. He had no
way of telling how much damage he took, but the controls were feeling heavy
and sluggish under his hands as he continued his steep climb, clawing for
the safety of open space.
Behind and below him, the force of the Temblor Bomb triggered a quake
in one of the major fault lines. The effects spread, and spread again, until
the entire canyon was trembling with the force of a seismic event of
unparalleled ferocity.
Blair didn't see the effects of the bomb. It took time for the first
quakes to trigger subsidiary effects, radiating outward through all the
interconnected fault lines. The Excalibur had already reached orbit by the
time the quakes became planet-wide, collapsing Kilrathi-made buildings and
structures within the major quake zones. The Imperial Palace was one of the
first to suffer, as the entire massive edifice caved in on itself, crushing
the Emperor and his court before they had a chance to react to the violence
consuming their world.
The ground was heaving even in regions far from the fault lines now, as
the pent-up energy of the entire world's tectonic stresses was all released
at once. Dust clouds rose into the atmosphere, huge rents opened up in the
crust of the planet. As Blair finally cut his engines and looked down at the
planet, it was to see Kilrah disfigured by angry orange gashes spreading
across the face of the globe The Kilrathi homeworld was coming apart before
his eyes . . .
And then it happened. Overcome by the awful forces set free by the
Temblor Bomb, the planet's core exploded, hurtling huge chunks of the mantle
and crust outward. Vast planetoids tore through the orbital yards, smashing
the assembled might of the Kilrathi Grand Fleet. Only a few ships, those
under power and able to maneuver escaped the death of the Homeworld.
Blair managed to steer clear of the largest of the debris, but his
Excalibur was battered by smaller fragments. As Kilrah came apart, spreading
out into a cloud of drifting asteroids, the fighter's engines finally
failed. He was drifting free now . . . trapped in the doomed system.
Christopher Blair sagged back in his acceleration couch, closing his
eyes. He was exhausted, drained of anger and fear and hope alike. He knew he
would die here, along with the planet and the empire his bomb had brought
down.
Barely conscious, Blair didn't see the Kilrathi carrier that edged
through the whirling debris toward his drifting fighter. Tractor beams
lanced out to seize the Excalibur and pull it down toward the flight deck.
He realized, too late, that his death would not be as quick and easy as he
had hoped. He would, after all, face the enemy one more time.
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Kilrah System
Kilrathi guards in the elaborate harness of the Imperial Guard hauled
Blair from the cockpit of his battered Excalibur and used gunbutts and nerve
prods to herd him through a maze of dim-lit corridors. Still barely
recovered from the beating his ship had taken, staggering with exhaustion,
Blair still tried to force himself to remain stiffly upright. He remembered
the last images of Angel, the pride she'd conveyed even after torture and
imprisonment. The least he could do was to emulate her now.
They brought him into the open expanse of the audience chamber, shoving
him forward until he stood before the raised dais that dominated one end. A
stocky, massive Kilrathi figure stood beside the throne, regarding him with
dark, hooded eyes that gave away nothing.
He was vaguely aware of other Kilrathi warriors in the hall, hidden in
the shadows, hissing their hatred, but his full attention was focused on
this one dominating figure
"The Heart of the Tiger," the Kilrathi said in heavily-accented
English, sounding like a judge about to deliver a verdict. "I am Melek.
Prince Thrakhath was my master."
Blair remained silent, staring into those dark pools that were Melek's
eyes.
"In my bones, I wish to kill you . . ." Melek let the words hang in the
chamber. From the shadows, there was muttered agreement, sibilant curses.
"Do it, then," Blair said. "Get it over with. It won't bring back your
world."
"And what is the Race without the Homeworld?" Melek asked. "Nothing . .
. dust in the wind." He paused. "You have defeated us, Heart of the Tiger.
Brought down the Empire with one blow. Thrakhath was a fool to discount what
you Terrans could achieve, but he and his accursed grandfather have both
paid the price for that folly."
Blair squinted up at him, a faint hope stirring within. He hardly dared
fan it for fear it would be false.
"But you Terrans have committed your own folly, this day," Melek went
on. "For now the Empire will fall . . . and the enemies who harassed our
outer marches will now have nothing to stand between them and your
Confederation. They have a power that even Thrakhath was wary of: Do you
Terrans, who barely held against us, have the strength to face them when
they come?"
Blair found his voice again. "If we're attacked, we'll fight back," he
said. "As we did with you."
Melek stepped down from the dais, his face only inches from Blair's.
"With the Homeworld gone and the Emperor dead, the rest of the Empire will
fall apart. There will be civil war, factions fighting for power, subject
races throwing off our rule. Chaos. And enemies waiting to exploit our
weakness . . ." He lowered his voice, until Blair had to strain to hear the
words. "Perhaps the only hope for either of our races is to face the future
together. The Kilrathi Race has become too corrupt, slaves to blood lust and
the evils brought by too much power. We have paid a heavy price . . ."
He stepped back and raised his voice again. "Killing the Heart of the
Tiger, the one warrior great enough to humble the Empire, will bring me no
honor." Melek looked at Blair for a long moment, as if struggling for the
will to go on. "Your claws are at our throats. Would your people accept our
. . . surrender? The Race cannot be allowed to die, even it means placing
our fate in the hands of our enemies."
Blair nodded slowly. "Peace is what we both need now. If you can end
this war, I think you'll find we won't demand more than you're willing to
give." He paused. "And maybe one day, when the War is over and the hate is
past, you and I will be able to meet . . . as friends."
"Friends . . ." Melek seemed to ponder the idea. "Perhaps it is
possible. Will you carry our offer to your superiors? To help us put an end
to the fighting?"
Blair nodded, the effort almost more than he could manage. As the fear
and the adrenaline both ebbed away, he could feel the fatigue sapping his
strength. "I'll do it," he said. "We'll do it . . ."
Then blackness took him. He never felt himself hit the smooth,
unyielding deck below him.
Shuttle Ciudad de Buenos Aires Terra System
"Our top story is the historic news from the Torgo System, where
delegates from the Kilrathi Empire signed a peace treaty to put an end to
the war . . ."
On the newspad monitor screen, the view showed the interior of the huge
auditorium at Sector HQ. There was a large audience, mostly uniformed
members of the Confed Armed Forces, gathered around a raised stage beneath
the transparent dome. The ceremony took place at night, and a thousand stars
blazed brightly above the delegates.
Blair noted Paladin prominently seated among the Terran
representatives, and near him was Admiral Tolwyn. The court of inquiry found
the admiral blameless in the loss of the Behemoth, and he had returned to
active service just in time to be a part of the protracted negotiations.
Blair thought it was fitting, somehow, that Tolwyn played a role in the
final triumph. Though he never agreed with the man's style or motivations,
Admiral Geoff Tolwyn was a central figure in the Confederation resistance
throughout the war, and it was only right that he should see it through to
the very end. His nephew, Kevin, was also among the host of aides and
assistants, and Eisen's dark craggy features were visible at the table as
well. Among the Kilrathi, the only one Blair recognized was Melek, but the
ornamentation of the other Imperial delegates made it plain that they
represented a cross-section of important surviving nobles and military
leaders.
Barbara Miles continued her voice-over report. "Following the
incredible raid which led to the destruction of the Imperial homeworld,
Kilrah, the Kilrathi decision to sue for peace was greeted with excited
celebrations throughout human space. After months of peace talks
deliberating a final settlement, the initial cease-fire was finally
converted to a lasting peace through the Kilrathi acceptance of the Treaty
Of Torgo."
The view switched back to a head-and-shoulder shot of Barbara Miles.
"TNC attempted to contact the pilot who carried out the Kilrah raid for his
reaction to the peace treaty, but Colonel Christopher Blair was unavailable
for comment. We will have further details on the signing of the peace treaty
later in this Infoburst . . ."
Blair switched off the newspad and glanced out the port beside him. The
shuttle began its descent now, crossing the terminator just as the dawning
sun lit below the curved blue and white arc of the planet.
Earth . . .
He had dedicated his entire adult life to defending her, and now the
long battle was over. And despite Melek's fears of another alien empire
beyond the Kilrathi sphere threatening future wars, Blair knew his own days
as a warrior were over. After a well-deserved period of leave, he was slated
to go on the inactive list so that he could begin a new career, serving with
the diplomatic staff that would soon begin work turning the abstract peace
treaty with the Empire into solid, working reality. Henceforth Christopher
Blair would be a warrior in the cause of peace, fighting a new kind of
battle to ensure that all of his fallen comrades Ч Angel and Flint, Vaquero,
and Hunter and Iceman, Cobra and Flash and all the rest, even Hobbes Ч had
not died in vain.
It was a daunting challenge, but Blair would not be facing it alone.
She hurried down the aisle as the seatbelt warnings flashed on the
forward bulkhead. Blair met her eyes, and they shared a smile.
"What would you like to do first, after we're down?" he asked,
strapping her in.
Rachel Coriolis took his hand in hers. "I'd like to take a long walk
along the seashore," she said, "with wet sand between my toes . . . and no
bulkheads or metal decks or spare parts in sight."
"Sounds good to me, Blair told her, settling into his seat and closing
his eyes. The others were all still there, in his mind, but no longer
demanding or clamoring. They Ч and he Ч had finally discovered peace.
"Maybe it was best that we couldn't make it happen," he went on
doggedly. "It might be the best thing if we don't try to push it now . . ."
"Are you backing out on me?" Her expression hovered between concern and
anger. "I thought . . ."
"Look, Rachel, by this time tomorrow, God only knows where I'll be.
Even if we carry out the mission, the deck's stacked against any of us
coming back from Kilrah. It isn't fair to start something with you that I
might not be able to finish. I wouldn't want you to have to go through what
I did . . . with Angel."
"Pilots . . ." She shook her head. "They'd rather crash and burn than
make a commitment. Look, Chris, I've been there, remember? I know what it's
like. And I also know that if we keep putting our own lives aside because of
what might happen tomorrow, eventually we'll run out of tomorrows. We'll
never have anything to look back at, anything to remember except the war,
just fighting and killing. I want something else to remember . . . whether
it's one night, or an eternity. Don't you?"
"Do you really mean that? You want to go ahead, even knowing it might
not be more than one night?''
She met his eyes and nodded. "I'd rather we had just one night
together. Especially if the alternative is . . . never having any time at
all."
"Your shift . . ."
"Ends at midnight. I'll skip the dinner and the music if you'll be
there for me when I come . . ."
"Midnight, then." She stood when he did, and they came together in a
long, lingering kiss. "Midnight . . ."
Excalibur 300 Hyperion System
Acceleration pressed Blair into his seat as the Excalibur burst into
open space. He cut in his engines and steered hard to port, toward the
unseen jump point that would carry him to the enemy homeworld.
To the real Heart of the Tiger, he thought idly.
"Excalibur three-zero-zero, clear and under power," Blair said aloud.
"Lancelot Flight, form on me and proceed as planned."
The other three pilots acknowledged, closing around him. Four Excalibur
fighters, to attack the Imperial homeworld. It still seemed like sheer
madness. But this time it was truly mankind's last chance for victory.
"Lancelot Flight, Lancelot Flight, this is Round Table," Eisen's voice
crackled over the comm channel. "Good luck to you all . . . and Godspeed."
Blair didn't reply. Instead he checked his power levels, then spoke to
the other pilots. "Go to cloaks . . . now!" he ordered, switching on his own
cloaking system. There was no apparent effect, other than the sudden
increase in the fighter's power drain. Weapons and shields were useless
while the shroud concealed the craft, but detection would be nearly
impossible. Already the other Excaliburs had vanished. He was all alone in
an endless night.
He checked the range to the jump point, and asked the computer for an
ETA. Ten minutes. . . .
The timing of this phase of the operation was critical. The Confed's
battle fleet had jumped into the Hyperion System from nearby Freya,
challenging the local Kilrathi garrison forces with a series of strike
attacks by fighters and capital ships. Victory had remained in reserve
throughout nearly a week of combat ops, keeping to the fringes of the
action. The Kilrathi were given every opportunity to commit their forces to
the system, and they'd pumped in enough ships to put the Terran fleet at a
serious disadvantage. It was all a part of the plan, to encourage the cats
to thin out their home defenses and divert attention away from Kilrah. But
it had been a costly fight already, and it was likely to get worse.
Today the admiral commanding the fleet had passed the word to General
Taggart aboard Victory. There was no guarantee that the fleet could maintain
the fight for more than a few more hours. Then they would have to break off,
or go down fighting. Paladin had given the orders. The attack was on at
last.
The carrier edged toward the jump point, seemingly to reinforce the
Terran battle group built around the Hermes and the Invincible which had
been heavily engaged in the area for several hours. According to
intelligence reports, the Kilrathi were unaware of the Terran survey work
done around Hyperion, and thus thought the Confederation knew nothing of the
Kilrah jump point. But they had to be careful to keep from tipping their
hands too soon.
As it was, they nearly ran into trouble when a Kilrathi destroyer
escort left the enemy fleet on course for the jump point, but Eisen turned
the situation to their advantage by pretending to pursue the enemy ship.
That ship had passed through the jump point less than half an hour ago, and
that transjump became the main reason for Blair's present preoccupation with
the ticking countdown clock.
If the escort withdrew to Kilrah to summon additional reinforcements,
the Terrans had to hope nothing else was waiting close to the jump point on
the other side. Otherwise they might be blundering into trouble before the
mission was even fairly under way.
He checked the ETA again. Three minutes . . .
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Kilrah System
"Message from the escort Ghordax, Lord Prince. From the fleet at
Hyperion."
Thrakhath allowed his throne to swivel past the viewscreen he was
contemplating so he could look down on Melek. "What is their report?"
"'The battle proceeds well, Lord Prince,'' Melek said bowing. "The
Terrans cannot last long."
"So there is no further need for reinforcements, then?"
"No, Lord Prince. None."
"Good," Thrakhath said. "I do not wish to further disrupt our buildup.
Is there any word from the Logistics Masters on the timetable for launching
the Grand Fleet?"
"Six eights of hours, Lord Prince. The bombardment missiles will be
fully loaded by then, and the fleet can break orbit any time after that."
"Excellent. Then we will soon be on our way to the Terran homeworld.
This time they shall not turn us back." Thrakhath turned his throne again,
gesturing to the screen. It showed a view of Kilrah's orbital yards, with
capital ships grouped around orbital depots and swarms of smaller craft
moving among them, preparing the Grand Fleet for the last great campaign.
"Victory, Melek," the prince continued. "It smells sweet, does it not?"
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek replied dutifully.
"Still, there is one thing missing," Thrakhath went on, almost to
himself. "I can only hope for one last chance to meet the Heart of the Tiger
in battle. It will make our triumph all the more complete . . ."
Thrakhath continued to study the viewscreen, the light of victory in
his eyes.
Excalibur 300 Kilrah System
Jumpshock made Blair sluggish, but he forcing his body to obey his
will, he switched power from the transjump drive to the cloaking device.
Powering up his engines, he steered the fighter out of the jump point,
setting course inward, toward the Kilrathi homeworld.
On his sensor screen, another blip flickered into existence astern,
then faded a few moments later. That was Vagabond, acting as wingman on the
mission. Maniac and Flint followed in succession, apparently without being
noticed. There were no Kilrathi ships in the immediate area, though the
escort they had trailed in the Hyperion System was at the very edge of
detection range, also on course toward Kilrah. Hopefully, if they spotted
anything suspicious at all they wouldn't be able to react until the cloaked
Terran ships were well clear of the area.
Blair's comm monitor came alive with an image of Paladin. The old
warrior had warned him that the computers aboard all four fighters would
trigger periodic briefings as they headed in toward their goal. This tape,
for Blair, had been personalized. Taggart smiled out at him. "Laddie, we've
covered this ground backwards and forwards waiting for the mission to
launch, but I'll give you the straight dope one more time now. Since you're
seeing this, you've made the jump successfully, and you're in the Kilrathi
System now." The screen changed to show a chart of the Kilrah star system,
with navpoints glowing brightly. "Your first job, now that you're through,
is tae bring your fighters in tae the first asteroid depot. There you'll
find a stock of fuel, spares, and missiles, everything you'll need tae carry
you all the way in tae the outer moon of Kilrah." The first depot faded, and
another more distant asteroid was indicated. "Should ye find the first
position compromised, laddie, there is a second choice. But remember, if ye
canna keep one depot in reserve, there'll nae be enough fuel in your birds
tae get you through the jump point after the mission's done. The second
depot is supposed to be for the trip back but I ken well you'll do what ye
have tae if the mission depends upon it."
Paladin's face appeared on the screen again. "Good luck, laddie. You'll
need it.
The screen went blank.
Blair set his course for the nearer depot, knowing that the others
would be doing the same. They were maintaining absolute comm silence, hoping
to avoid any detection by the Kilrathi. Surprise was their only hope . . .
surprise sheer flying skill and pure, unadulterated good luck.
He hoped it would be enough.
Excalibur 302 Kilrah System
A warning alarm beeped for attention, and Lieutenant Winston Chang
checked his sensor board. There was something ahead, a powered target that
glowed amber on his screen as the computer tried to identify it as friend or
foe. A moment later, it changed to a reddish orange. An enemy, then . . .
no, two enemies, a pair of Darket fighters, evidently making a routine
patrol sweep.
Vagabond muttered an old Chinese curse under his breath and cut power
to his engines. The two Darket were dead ahead and only a few hundred
kilometers beyond lay the large asteroid where the first depot was
established. In order to reach their destination, transmitters aboard the
Excaliburs were programmed to send out short-burst signals to activate the
locator transponders in the depot. As long as those two Darket were in the
neighborhood, the Terrans were stuck. The depot might as well be around
Sirius.
Meanwhile, there was another danger. If the Kilrathi got too close,
they would spot the Terran ships, cloaked or not.
The two light fighters were making a slow, graceful turn. Vagabond
warily watched them, alert for any signs of their detecting the location of
one of the Terran fighters. He wondered about the others. Their original
tight formation had become tenuous en route to the asteroid, and he was no
longer sure where any of his comrades might be.
The Darket were going to pass close to him . . . too close. Vagabond
engaged his engines again and started to bank away, but it was too late.
Suddenly the two Kilrathi ships were picking up speed, swinging around,
pointed directly at him. Cloaked, he had no shields. A few shots would be
enough to knock him out.
He cut the cloak, shunting power to the weapons and shield generators
and cutting back on his own course with a sharp pull on the steering yoke.
Maybe if he disposed of these two fast enough there would be no time for
them to summon help.
One of the Darket opened fire just as the green light on his shield
status display appeared. Blasters pounded at the shields, but to little
effect. He returned fire with blasters and a pair of heat-seekers, closing
the range fast. The Darket's shields crumbled beneath the heavy pounding,
and a moment later his beams bored through armor and set off the missiles
slung under the Kilrathi crafts wings. He was close enough now to actually
be caught in the fireball, and the energy release and spinning debris
overloaded his own shielding.
In that moment, the second Darket engaged. He didn't have to look at
the damage control panel to know that he was losing armor around his
reactor. Desperately, Vagabond tried to dodge, but the controls were
sluggish.
He broke comm silence. "I can't shake him! I'm going up." And just
before the Darket fired again, he managed to add a final plea. "Don't give
up, Colonel. You've got to take them down . . . for all of us who didn't
make it!"
He slammed the switch to trigger his ejection system, praying he wasn't
already too late.
Excalibur 300 Kilrah System
Blair saw Vagabond's Excalibur go up in flames of fury. He let out a
cry of rage and grief. The Chinese pilot's last words echoed in his mind,
and he made a grim, silent vow that Chang's last effort wouldn't be in vain.
Then Maniac's fighter appeared on his sensors swooping in from beyond
the expanding fireball. Blair spotted the Excalibur a moment later as Maniac
opened fire, battering through the Darket's shields. The fighter exploded.
His satisfaction was short-lived, though. Flint broke comm silence a
moment later. "We've got trouble, boys," she said. "Heading our way."
Two more Darket appeared from beyond the bulk of the asteroid, moving
slowly but gathering speed as they came. Blair's comm monitor picked up a
transmission from one of them. They were summoning help.
"Lancelot Flight, break off action," he ordered sharply. "Recloak and
head for the backup rendezvous."
It galled him to run, but they didn't have much choice. Though the
Excaliburs could deal with these two fighters easily enough, they couldn't
count on being able to refuel and rearm at this depot before a swarm of
additional Kilrathi ships turned up. A thorough search of the asteroid would
turn up the depot, and if they were caught inside the result would be
disastrous.
He hit his afterburners and punched in the new course. Paladin's
warning ran through his mind. With this depot compromised and the secondary
one depleted, the Terrans were on a one-way trip to Kilrah.
if they made it that far.
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Kilrah System
The Audience Hall was empty except for the Crown Prince, brooding on
his throne. Melek hastened to the foot of the dais, bowing low. Thrakhath
raised his head at the retainer's approach.
"I left orders that I was not to be disturbed," the Prince rumbled.
"An urgent message, Lord Prince," Melek told him. "One of our patrols
reported engaging Terran fighters. Here in our own system . . . and they
escaped using cloak technology."
"Ape ships . . . here?" Thrakhath straightened, eyes flashing with
anger. "Cloaked . . . spies, seeking word of our fleet, then."
"We cannot say, Lord Prince," Melek said. "But . . . we intercepted one
exchange of messages between them. And our computers have identified the
voice of the apparent leader." He paused. "It was . . . the one named Blair.
The Heart of the Tiger."
"Him . . ." Thrakhath stood slowly, drawing himself to his full height.
"That one would not come on a mere spy mission. Could it be . . . could the
Terrans be planning a strike? Perhaps they plan to attack our fleet while it
is still taking on armaments . . . to break up our attack before we can
leave orbit."
"It is possible, Lord Prince. But we cannot be sure." Melek hesitated.
"The cruiser Kheerakh discovered a hidden supply cache in an asteroid near
where the encounter took place . . . but I fear the fools destroyed it by
bombardment rather than investigating."
"I trust Kheerakh has a new captain now?"
"Yes, Lord Prince. One who is . . . less impulsive
"We must look to our defenses, Melek. I do not believe the Terrans can
mount a serious threat, but even a few shipkiller missiles released into the
fleet while it is bunched up would be an . . . annoying setback. Order
fighter patrols around the orbital yards doubled." Thrakhath paused. And
have my personal ship and squadron readied to launch on short notice. If the
Heart of the Tiger has come, I mean to take him myself."
Melek bowed again. "As you order, Lord Prince. He backed away, leaving
Thrakhath alone in the empty hall.
It seemed the apes were far more resilient than the Emperor's grandson
had ever realized. Melek wondered what other surprises the Terrans might
have in store.
Covert Ops Depot #3 Kilrah System
They had come farther than Blair ever dared to hope they would. The
three Excaliburs located the backup depot and set down long enough to refuel
and replace the missiles Maniac used to destroy the Darket that took out
Vagabond. From there, they pushed into the Kilrah System, all the way to the
outer moon of the Kilrathi homeworld itself, and the last Terran depot.
Like the first station, this depot was a crude chamber carved out of
solid rock with mining lasers. A force field curtain allowed the interior to
be pressurized, so Blair and his two pilots worked unencumbered by bulky
pressure gear. But the facilities were primitive, and the work was difficult
enough even so. The near-weightless conditions didn t help matters much,
either. Though the equipment had virtually no weight, it retained its full
mass, and none of the three were accustomed to working under such
conditions. Care and caution were required at a time when every instinct
cried out for them to hurry, to finish the job and get back into space as
quickly as possible. It made for frayed nerves.
Nonetheless, they did the work, exchanging the missiles slung under
Blair's Excalibur for one of the two massive Temblor Bombs stowed in the
depot. He decided against loading the second one onto a different fighter.
Originally, he hoped to have two fighters fitted with bombs, each with a
fully-armed escort, but Vagabond's death changed his plans. A fighter
without missiles wasn't worth much in a dogfight, and one escort couldn't
hope to cover two bombers at once. If this run failed Ч and anyone survived
to return to the depot Ч they could try again later, perhaps. But for now
Blair figured two fighters flying cover gave him that much more of a chance
to make the bombing run successful.
With the bomb loaded, they topped off their fuel tanks and ran a final
test of their on-board systems.
"Do you really think this is going to work?" Flint asked as they were
finishing. "Or are we just going through the motions?"
"It'll work," Blair said. "We have to make it work." He was still
thinking about Vagabond's last transmission. So many people died to get them
here, starting with Angel. Blair was determined to make their sacrifices
count.
"I'd be a damned sight happier if Vagabond was still with us," Marshall
said. "He wasn't very flashy in the cockpit, but he was steady. And we'll be
missing him soon enough, I bet."
"I already miss him," Blair growled. "And not just because he was a
good wingman." He caught sight of the sheepish look on Maniac's face. "Look
. . . we'll all miss him, the way we miss every single one of the others who
bought it. I read somewhere that the darkest times are supposed to bring out
the best in people." Blair looked away. "I don't know about that. All I do
know is this: we've got to finish the job. Because if we don't, there's
nobody else to pick up and carry on after us. So . . . give me everything
you've got. That's all I can ask."
He turned away and shoved a chip cartridge into the portable computer
they used for their tests. The oversized monitor screen came on, and Paladin
looked down at the three with a serious expression.
"This is the final briefing, laddie," Taggart's recorded image told
them. "By now you've finished loading the T-Bomb, and you're ready for the
final phase of the mission. I pray to God you can carry it out. If you canna
do it, I dinna ken who can."
Paladin was replaced by a satellite photo showing part of the surface
of Kilrah, a long, jagged canyon in the middle of rocky desert land. "You
are looking at your target, a deep natural canyon that goes down nearly a
mile. It was formed by one of the most active fault lines on the planet." A
computer-generated map replaced the photo image. "If our calculations are
correct, this point, here, near the northern end of the canyon, is critical.
Three faults come together at this one point, and if the Temblor Bomb is
detonated there it should set up a chain reaction of quakes that will
devastate Kilrah."
Taggart appeared again. "Lay it in there sweet and easy laddie. The
exact coordinates are already preprogrammed in your flight computers. To
make the run, though, you'll have to descend into the atmosphere, into the
canyon itself, and drop the bomb on the target. Because you'll need your
shields to handle a high-speed atmospheric insertion, you'll have tae go in
the last stretch without your cloaks. It'll be dangerous . . . but if you
move fast and hit hard, you'll have a chance."
The general paused, and Blair had the feeling his old eyes were looking
right out of the screen at him. "It's almost over, laddie. You and your
people are the best for the job, and I know you'll do Terra proud. You'll be
in my prayers, all of you. Good luck."
The screen went blank, and Blair turned back to the others. "All right,
time to saddle up. We've got a message to deliver to the Emperor, and the
clock is ticking."
Excalibur 300 Kilrah System
Kilrah was a dirty orange-brown sphere that filled his field of vision,
swelling visibly as the Terran fighters pressed forward at full thrust.
Blair ran his eyes over his instrument board, checking over all systems one
more time and praying nothing would go wrong now that the final attack was
so near.
His hull temperature gauges were just beginning to register the
friction of the tenuous upper atmosphere. Soon he would have to switch to
shields or drastically cut his rate of descent. Blair waited until the
cockpit was noticeably hot, until the outer hull was beginning to glow
faintly, before he finally cut the cloak and activated the shield
generators.
Screaming through the thickening atmosphere under the dull light of
Kilrah's red-orange sun, three Terran fighters plummeted downward toward a
final rendezvous with death.
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Kilrah System
"Lord Prince, the ground-based defenses have picked up three intruders.
Terran fighters matching the description of those engaged yesterday."
Thrakhath rose from his throne and stepped down from the dais. "The
ground defenses?" he demanded. "Is every one of my ship captains blind,
then?"
"No, Lord Prince," Melek said, voice quavering a little. "But the
Terrans . . . are entering the atmosphere. They came out of cloak almost
directly below our present orbit, descending at high speed."
"Scramble all available interceptors, Melek," Thrakhath commanded,
starting toward the door. "Including my own squadron. We will show them they
cannot defile the Homeworld with impunity!"
Excalibur 300 Kilrah
"Eighty kilometers up . . . two hundred ten kilometers to target,"
Blair said over the comm channel. There was no need for comm silence now.
The Kilrathi had surely detected the Terran fighters. "Maniac, you take
point. Open me a path. And you watch my tail, Flint. They're going to throw
everything they can our way."
"Affirmative," Flint replied.
"You got it," Marshall chimed in a moment later. His fighter swept past
Blair's to take the lead.
He was hardly in position before the first targets appeared ahead. "We
got bogies," Blair said. "They look like atmospheric craft Ч ground-based
interceptors.
"Piece of cake," Maniac told him. The Excalibur's afterburners cut in,
and Marshall surged ahead, his blasters beginning to fire as he closed in on
the enemy aircraft.
Conventional atmospheric fighters weren't as well-equipped as space
fighters, but they were fast and maneuverable in their own element.
Marshall's guns cut a swath through the leading fighters, but the others
rolled out and then swung inward from either flank, unleashing a massive
bombardment. Caught in a crossfire from four aircraft at once, Maniac rolled
left to concentrate on one threat. Blair banked sharply right and opened
fire on the remaining pair. His blasters raked across the nearer target,
which came apart under the savage force of the beams.
The second fighter looped up, turning away from the battle and
accelerating fast. Evidently the pilot had decided against a glorious death
today . . .
"There's more of the bastards up ahead, Colonel," Marshall reported as
he finished off his last opponent and swung back into formation. "Looks like
we're not welcome around here."
"As long as they're just conventional aircraft, they shouldn't be much
trouble," Blair said. "Stay focused, though. You can bet they'll bring in
the big guns soon enough . . ."
"Targets! Targets! Targets!" Flint chanted. "I've got six . . . eight
targets on my board. Coming in from orbit!"
They weren't showing on Blair's sensors yet, so they were still at
extreme range. "Watch em, Flint," he ordered. A whole squadron of
space-based fighters would be a lot harder to handle than the aircraft
ahead, but they'd be hard-pressed to close the range as long as the Terrans
could keep moving.
The second wave of interceptors closed in from below, eight
high-performance jet aircraft in a tight formation. They broke just as
Maniac opened fire, scattering, curving in on the Terrans and engaging with
missiles and beam weapons. Once again Maniac and Blair had to engage them,
and by the time the attackers had been destroyed or forced to flee Blair
realized what the enemy strategy was. Each time the Terrans got caught in a
dogfight, however short, the orbital fighters closed the range a little more
. . .
Excalibur 303 Kilrah
A near miss by a missile buffeted her fighter, and Lieutenant Robin
Peters had to fight her steering yoke to maintain control. It had been years
since she'd last had to fight a battle in a planetary atmosphere, where all
the rules were different from those she was used to in deep space fighting.
Shock waves carried. . . and shields were weakened by the energy they
absorbed from friction in high-speed maneuvers.
"They're firing," Flint reported. "One Vaktoth . . . and a Bloodfang,
both of them in combat range. More Vaktoth coming up fast behind them."
"Bloodfang . . . Thrakhath s personal fighter." Blair's voice was grim.
"Damn it all!"
She nodded Intelligence reports on the Prince's personal fighter,
code-named Bloodfang by the Confederation, suggested it would be one hell of
a tough opponent. "Don't know if I can take the bastard, skipper," she said.
"You have any bright ideas?"
"Go to afterburners," Blair ordered. "Let's see if we can outrun them."
She kicked in the extra power, but the Vaktoth matched her. . .
continued closing the range. Another missile detonated, even closer this
time. "No joy, skipper," she said. "Looks like there's going to be a fight .
. ."
Kilrathi blaster fire probed at her rear shields, sapping the power
levels with each hit. Cursing, she pulled up in a sharp loop and opened fire
on one of her two pursuers with blasters and a spread of four missiles. The
two fighters were having as much trouble fighting in atmosphere as she was,
and the weakened forward shields of her target went down under the fury of
her attack. The Vaktoth exploded in a shower of debris, and Flint let out a
whoop of triumph.
It died on her lips as the Bloodfang opened fire. She tried to roll
out, but blasters pounded at her shields. They were going down . . . and a
pair of heat seekers were already on the way.
"He's got me, skipper!" she called. Can t . . evade. Don't forget . . .
I could have loved Ч "
She didn't live to finish the sentence.
Excalibur 300 Kilrah
"Flint!" Blair shouted, but it was too late. The rearmost Excalibur
went up in a dazzling fireball, and Robin Peters was gone.
A new voice crackled in his headphones. "So it shall be with you as
well, Heart of the Tiger." He recognized the harsh, sibilant voice.
Thrakhath . . . "You are foolhardy, to venture with so few against my
Homeworld. Once before you lacked the courage to fight me. This time, you
shall not escape. Welcome, Heart of the Tiger, to Kilrah . . . and to your
death!"
"The canyon's in sight ahead, Colonel," Marshall reported. "I'll drop
back and have the next dance. You get in there and do your stuff!"
Blair hesitated. Thrakhath had challenged him once again . . . and he
couldn't stand and fight. It took every bit of his self-control to grit his
teeth and acknowledge Marshall's call.
Maniac executed a tight Immelman loop, swinging up and around to head
back toward the on-coming Kilrathi fighters. Thrakhath's Bloodfang was still
well in the lead, but there were two others closing fast.
Blair saw the canyon ahead, a long, jagged scar on the surface of
Kilrah. His target was there, at the far end of the deep trench . . .
"Watch your tail, Colonel!" Maniac called suddenly. "Don't know if I
can cover you!"
His sensor board told the story. Thrakhath had ignored Maniac's
Excalibur entirely, refusing to be drawn into a dogfight. Instead he had
plunged past Marshall, and the two trailing Vaktoth were all over the Terran
pilot now. Blair cursed aloud Maniac couldn't last long against two heavy
fighters . . .
And his underarmed Excalibur was no match for Thrakhath's Bloodfang.
He swung sharply left, away from the canyon, as the Kilrathi prince
opened fire. The blaster shots went wide but the Bloodfang followed his
turn, still clinging stubbornly to his tail. All the advantages lay with
Thrakhath now.
Blair was only dimly aware of the explosion higher up and off to his
right. His monitor told him it was one of the Vaktoth facing Maniac. Somehow
Marshall had managed to savage one of his foes, but the other was still
pressing hard. For the moment Blair couldn't afford to think about him,
though. He cut in full afterburners and tried to climb up and out of range
of Thrakhath's fighter. A Kilrathi missile exploded against his rear
shields, sending the power levels fluctuating wildly. And still Thrakhath
held on behind him.
"Heads up, Colonel! Incoming!" Maniac's call was loud and almost
exultant. Marshall had swung away from his second opponent and was diving
down on Thrakhath, heedless of the Vaktoth behind him slashing at his
shields with bolt after bolt of raw energy.
Marshall released two missiles, then two more, holding steady on his
target and refusing to be drawn off by the dire threat behind him.
"Shields are failing," he said as he released the missiles, his voice
almost matter of fact now. "Looks like you're on your own now, Colonel. For
what it's worth. I'm proud I flew with you . . ."
And then his fighter was gone, too, an expanding cloud of flame and
smoke and whirling debris. Blair thought he caught a glimpse of the
Excalibur's escape pod boosting clear of the explosion, straining to reach
orbital velocity but he wasn't sure. And even if Maniac had somehow managed
to survive that blast, he wouldn't be playing any further part in this
battle.
Blair was alone.
He threw the Excalibur into a tight turn to port and opened fire with
his blasters just as Marshall's first two missiles detonated against
Thrakhath's shields. The Bloodfang passed close beside Blair's craft, and he
maintained his tight turn to stay lined up on the Kilrathi fighter. The
other missiles struck the Prince's rear shields, and Blair squeezed the
trigger again. Beams tore through the weakened shields, chopping through
armor.
"Curse you, ape!" Thrakhath snarled. "You have won today, Heart of the
Tiger: But it will not bring back your mate . . . and it will not save your
kind from the vengeance of the Empire. This I swear!"
Explosions tore through the Bloodfang, and it seemed to stagger in
mid-air before plunging downward. Blair watched as Thrakhath fought to
maintain control, saw the nose just start to come up as the Prince managed
one last masterful maneuver. But it was too late. The Bloodfang ploughed
into the red-lit desert floor, erupting in fire and thunder.
There were still several fighters above Blair, but they seemed stunned
by the loss of their leader. He turned his fighter back toward the canyon
and opened up his throttles. Perhaps there was just time to start his run
before the Kilrathi recovered . . .
He dropped down into the steep-sided, twisting gorge It took all his
skill to weave through that narrow gash in the desert. His HUD reeled off
the range to the preprogrammed drop coordinates, and Blair's thumb grew
tense hovering over the switch that would release the Temblor Bomb from the
belly of his fighter.
A part of him recoiled from what he had to do. The destruction of an
entire planet, warriors and civilians alike. Once he would never even have
considered making this desperate gambler's last throw. What had led to this
moment, then? Was it just a thirst for vengeance? Thrakhath's death had left
him feeling curiously empty of feeling, as if all his hate after Angel's
death had been for nothing. It had been the same with Hobbes. In the end,
revenge was a sterile thing. He could slaughter every Kilrathi, here and in
the farthest reaches of the Empire, and the killing would never change the
facts. Angel and Cobra and Vaquero and all the others would still be dead,
and his life would still be empty.
He felt as if they were all there in his mind Vagabond . . . Flint . .
. even Maniac, who in the end had risen above their long rivalry and given
his life so that Blair could finish the mission. But in the long run, he
knew it was wrong to use that bomb in the name of those who had died.
His range indicator continued to count down . . .
Blair thought of the ones who hadn't died. Paladin and Eisen, Admiral
Tolwyn and his nephew. Rachel Coriolis, who had accepted the fact that he
might never come back and still dared to love him. They were the ones who
counted. And if the War went on, they would ultimately pay the same price as
all the ones who had gone before. He pictured Victory broken and shattered
as he had last seen Concordia, imagined plagues spreading across Terra as
they had spread on Locanda Four. It was war to the knife with the Kilrathi.
Kill or be killed. Not for revenge. Not for hate. But for simple
survival of the human species.
He gritted his teeth and watched the range tick down. The target was
coming up fast. It was now or never . . .
His thumb stabbed down on the release, and as the bomb dropped away he
jerked hard back on the steering yoke and cut in his afterburners. The
Excalibur climbed fast, the atmosphere screaming past as the fighter
accelerated. A Vaktoth had followed him into the canyon and opened fire as
Blair pulled up. The Kilrathi pilot followed, but at that moment the Temblor
Bomb went off, and the shock wave threw the Imperial craft against the side
of the narrow trench. The fireball was lost in the greater blast of the
bomb.
He had to wrestle with his own controls as the blast battered at his
Excalibur. The rear shields failed, and Blair thought he could feel the
impact of bits of debris against the tail section of the fighter. He had no
way of telling how much damage he took, but the controls were feeling heavy
and sluggish under his hands as he continued his steep climb, clawing for
the safety of open space.
Behind and below him, the force of the Temblor Bomb triggered a quake
in one of the major fault lines. The effects spread, and spread again, until
the entire canyon was trembling with the force of a seismic event of
unparalleled ferocity.
Blair didn't see the effects of the bomb. It took time for the first
quakes to trigger subsidiary effects, radiating outward through all the
interconnected fault lines. The Excalibur had already reached orbit by the
time the quakes became planet-wide, collapsing Kilrathi-made buildings and
structures within the major quake zones. The Imperial Palace was one of the
first to suffer, as the entire massive edifice caved in on itself, crushing
the Emperor and his court before they had a chance to react to the violence
consuming their world.
The ground was heaving even in regions far from the fault lines now, as
the pent-up energy of the entire world's tectonic stresses was all released
at once. Dust clouds rose into the atmosphere, huge rents opened up in the
crust of the planet. As Blair finally cut his engines and looked down at the
planet, it was to see Kilrah disfigured by angry orange gashes spreading
across the face of the globe The Kilrathi homeworld was coming apart before
his eyes . . .
And then it happened. Overcome by the awful forces set free by the
Temblor Bomb, the planet's core exploded, hurtling huge chunks of the mantle
and crust outward. Vast planetoids tore through the orbital yards, smashing
the assembled might of the Kilrathi Grand Fleet. Only a few ships, those
under power and able to maneuver escaped the death of the Homeworld.
Blair managed to steer clear of the largest of the debris, but his
Excalibur was battered by smaller fragments. As Kilrah came apart, spreading
out into a cloud of drifting asteroids, the fighter's engines finally
failed. He was drifting free now . . . trapped in the doomed system.
Christopher Blair sagged back in his acceleration couch, closing his
eyes. He was exhausted, drained of anger and fear and hope alike. He knew he
would die here, along with the planet and the empire his bomb had brought
down.
Barely conscious, Blair didn't see the Kilrathi carrier that edged
through the whirling debris toward his drifting fighter. Tractor beams
lanced out to seize the Excalibur and pull it down toward the flight deck.
He realized, too late, that his death would not be as quick and easy as he
had hoped. He would, after all, face the enemy one more time.
Audience Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Kilrah System
Kilrathi guards in the elaborate harness of the Imperial Guard hauled
Blair from the cockpit of his battered Excalibur and used gunbutts and nerve
prods to herd him through a maze of dim-lit corridors. Still barely
recovered from the beating his ship had taken, staggering with exhaustion,
Blair still tried to force himself to remain stiffly upright. He remembered
the last images of Angel, the pride she'd conveyed even after torture and
imprisonment. The least he could do was to emulate her now.
They brought him into the open expanse of the audience chamber, shoving
him forward until he stood before the raised dais that dominated one end. A
stocky, massive Kilrathi figure stood beside the throne, regarding him with
dark, hooded eyes that gave away nothing.
He was vaguely aware of other Kilrathi warriors in the hall, hidden in
the shadows, hissing their hatred, but his full attention was focused on
this one dominating figure
"The Heart of the Tiger," the Kilrathi said in heavily-accented
English, sounding like a judge about to deliver a verdict. "I am Melek.
Prince Thrakhath was my master."
Blair remained silent, staring into those dark pools that were Melek's
eyes.
"In my bones, I wish to kill you . . ." Melek let the words hang in the
chamber. From the shadows, there was muttered agreement, sibilant curses.
"Do it, then," Blair said. "Get it over with. It won't bring back your
world."
"And what is the Race without the Homeworld?" Melek asked. "Nothing . .
. dust in the wind." He paused. "You have defeated us, Heart of the Tiger.
Brought down the Empire with one blow. Thrakhath was a fool to discount what
you Terrans could achieve, but he and his accursed grandfather have both
paid the price for that folly."
Blair squinted up at him, a faint hope stirring within. He hardly dared
fan it for fear it would be false.
"But you Terrans have committed your own folly, this day," Melek went
on. "For now the Empire will fall . . . and the enemies who harassed our
outer marches will now have nothing to stand between them and your
Confederation. They have a power that even Thrakhath was wary of: Do you
Terrans, who barely held against us, have the strength to face them when
they come?"
Blair found his voice again. "If we're attacked, we'll fight back," he
said. "As we did with you."
Melek stepped down from the dais, his face only inches from Blair's.
"With the Homeworld gone and the Emperor dead, the rest of the Empire will
fall apart. There will be civil war, factions fighting for power, subject
races throwing off our rule. Chaos. And enemies waiting to exploit our
weakness . . ." He lowered his voice, until Blair had to strain to hear the
words. "Perhaps the only hope for either of our races is to face the future
together. The Kilrathi Race has become too corrupt, slaves to blood lust and
the evils brought by too much power. We have paid a heavy price . . ."
He stepped back and raised his voice again. "Killing the Heart of the
Tiger, the one warrior great enough to humble the Empire, will bring me no
honor." Melek looked at Blair for a long moment, as if struggling for the
will to go on. "Your claws are at our throats. Would your people accept our
. . . surrender? The Race cannot be allowed to die, even it means placing
our fate in the hands of our enemies."
Blair nodded slowly. "Peace is what we both need now. If you can end
this war, I think you'll find we won't demand more than you're willing to
give." He paused. "And maybe one day, when the War is over and the hate is
past, you and I will be able to meet . . . as friends."
"Friends . . ." Melek seemed to ponder the idea. "Perhaps it is
possible. Will you carry our offer to your superiors? To help us put an end
to the fighting?"
Blair nodded, the effort almost more than he could manage. As the fear
and the adrenaline both ebbed away, he could feel the fatigue sapping his
strength. "I'll do it," he said. "We'll do it . . ."
Then blackness took him. He never felt himself hit the smooth,
unyielding deck below him.
Shuttle Ciudad de Buenos Aires Terra System
"Our top story is the historic news from the Torgo System, where
delegates from the Kilrathi Empire signed a peace treaty to put an end to
the war . . ."
On the newspad monitor screen, the view showed the interior of the huge
auditorium at Sector HQ. There was a large audience, mostly uniformed
members of the Confed Armed Forces, gathered around a raised stage beneath
the transparent dome. The ceremony took place at night, and a thousand stars
blazed brightly above the delegates.
Blair noted Paladin prominently seated among the Terran
representatives, and near him was Admiral Tolwyn. The court of inquiry found
the admiral blameless in the loss of the Behemoth, and he had returned to
active service just in time to be a part of the protracted negotiations.
Blair thought it was fitting, somehow, that Tolwyn played a role in the
final triumph. Though he never agreed with the man's style or motivations,
Admiral Geoff Tolwyn was a central figure in the Confederation resistance
throughout the war, and it was only right that he should see it through to
the very end. His nephew, Kevin, was also among the host of aides and
assistants, and Eisen's dark craggy features were visible at the table as
well. Among the Kilrathi, the only one Blair recognized was Melek, but the
ornamentation of the other Imperial delegates made it plain that they
represented a cross-section of important surviving nobles and military
leaders.
Barbara Miles continued her voice-over report. "Following the
incredible raid which led to the destruction of the Imperial homeworld,
Kilrah, the Kilrathi decision to sue for peace was greeted with excited
celebrations throughout human space. After months of peace talks
deliberating a final settlement, the initial cease-fire was finally
converted to a lasting peace through the Kilrathi acceptance of the Treaty
Of Torgo."
The view switched back to a head-and-shoulder shot of Barbara Miles.
"TNC attempted to contact the pilot who carried out the Kilrah raid for his
reaction to the peace treaty, but Colonel Christopher Blair was unavailable
for comment. We will have further details on the signing of the peace treaty
later in this Infoburst . . ."
Blair switched off the newspad and glanced out the port beside him. The
shuttle began its descent now, crossing the terminator just as the dawning
sun lit below the curved blue and white arc of the planet.
Earth . . .
He had dedicated his entire adult life to defending her, and now the
long battle was over. And despite Melek's fears of another alien empire
beyond the Kilrathi sphere threatening future wars, Blair knew his own days
as a warrior were over. After a well-deserved period of leave, he was slated
to go on the inactive list so that he could begin a new career, serving with
the diplomatic staff that would soon begin work turning the abstract peace
treaty with the Empire into solid, working reality. Henceforth Christopher
Blair would be a warrior in the cause of peace, fighting a new kind of
battle to ensure that all of his fallen comrades Ч Angel and Flint, Vaquero,
and Hunter and Iceman, Cobra and Flash and all the rest, even Hobbes Ч had
not died in vain.
It was a daunting challenge, but Blair would not be facing it alone.
She hurried down the aisle as the seatbelt warnings flashed on the
forward bulkhead. Blair met her eyes, and they shared a smile.
"What would you like to do first, after we're down?" he asked,
strapping her in.
Rachel Coriolis took his hand in hers. "I'd like to take a long walk
along the seashore," she said, "with wet sand between my toes . . . and no
bulkheads or metal decks or spare parts in sight."
"Sounds good to me, Blair told her, settling into his seat and closing
his eyes. The others were all still there, in his mind, but no longer
demanding or clamoring. They Ч and he Ч had finally discovered peace.