it. The timing will be tricky. You'll have to stay out long enough to give
us our sneak peek at the situation, and maybe to discourage the bad guys
from interfering with our approach. But then you'll have to get your
fighters aboard fast, before we jump . . . and possibly under fire. Anybody
who misses the boat is stuck." His eyes narrowed. "We can't afford another
incident like Locanda, for instance. I don't think we'll be in any position
to loiter around waiting for stragglers. Can your people do this?"
Blair nodded slowly, but inside his mind was racing to consider all the
problems against them. "It'll be tricky, Captain, but I'll see what we can
put together to eliminate the problems as much as possible."
"Good. Navigation tells me it'll be eighteen hours before we hit the
jump point. So your people will have a little sack time, at least, before
they have to launch." Eisen gave him a look. "Try to get some yourself, too,
Colonel. We need you out there fresh and at your best."
"Yes, sir," Blair said, but he knew the planning and preparation time
would make things tight. Sleep was a luxury he had to postpone until he knew
the wing was ready. He stood up slowly, and Ralgha did the same. "I'll keep
you posted on our plans, Captain. Come on, Hobbes. Looks like we burn the
midnight electrons again."
Thunderbolt 300 Ariel System
"All right, people, you know the drill," Blair said over the general
comm channel. "Do this thing by the numbers, and we'll be past the cats
before they know we're even in the neighborhood. But don't get distracted.
You stop to look at the scenery and you'll be stuck seeing it for the rest
of your life . . . which won't be long if Thrakhath's little playmates have
their way. so . . . let's do it!"
It was another magnum launch, with a full contingent of fighters
deployed in space around the Victory as she cruised slowly through the
colorful, swirling gases of the nebula toward the jump point to Caliban. As
before the point defense squadron would be held back to defend the ship
against Kilrathi fighters while the rest of the wing mounted Eisen's recon
in force ahead of the carrier.
Blair hoped he'd covered all the likely contingencies in formulating
his plans for the mission. If he'd left something out, it was too late now
to deal with it. They were committed, for good or ill.
"Major Mbuto, you're up," he said. "Good luck. . . but I hope you won't
be mad if I don't wish you good hunting!"
Amazon Mbuto chuckled. "This is one time when we'd all be glad for an
empty scanner screen, Colonel," she said.
Mbuto's interceptors were on point, as usual, scouting ahead of the
others in hopes of locating any enemy ships around the jump point before
they realized the Terrans were on their way. She had six Arrows in all, with
orders to locate the Kilrathi but, if possible, to avoid engaging. Victory
would keep a secure laser channel open with her fighter throughout the op so
that Rollins could pick up her sensor feed and analyze the tactical
situation ahead of time, despite the sensor interference from the nebula.
If she did spot enemy ships blocking Victory's chosen escape route, the
other squadrons would be called: Berterelli's Longbows to launch bombing
strikes on capital ships and Gold Squadron to provide cover for them or to
engage Kilrathi fighters. Meanwhile, once the initial scouting was finished,
Mbuto would withdraw and land on Victory, followed by the bombers as soon as
they dumped their loads and, hopefully, disrupted any enemy capital ships in
the neighborhood. The Thunderbolts would be the last to return to the
carrier, thus reducing the amount of traffic Flight Control would deal with
in the critical minutes before the ship attempted to jump.
That was the plan, at least. But Blair couldn't help remembering an
ancient military maxim . . . No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.
Any number of things could go wrong, and there was precious little room for
error.
At least a mistake today wouldn't end in the devastation of an entire
colony world. But that was cold comfort as far as Blair was concerned.
Victory's fate was on the line, and despite his early reaction to the
battered little escort carrier, Blair had learned to think of the ship as
home and her crew as comrades, even friends. Losing her wouldn't be like
losing the Concordia, but . . .
He shook himself out of his reverie. If Victory didn't make it, neither
would Colonel Christopher Blair. This time he wasn't likely to outlive his
carrier by more than a matter of minutes, hours at most.
The time passed slowly as they waited for a report from the scouts.
Comm line chatter was subdued and sporadic, and Blair had plenty of time for
second and even third thoughts. Periodically he cursed the prolonged
inactivity, knowing it would be demoralizing the others as much as himself,
but there was nothing to be done. Until the interceptors reported, the other
pilots could do nothing more than keep formation, watch their screens, and
wait.
Victory to Recon Leader," Rollins said at last. "We're getting sensor
imagery from Amazon. Captain was right, Colonel. There's a welcoming
committee out there. Stand by for coordinate feed."
In seconds, his scanner began displaying targets around the Caliban
jump point, and Blair studied them intently. There were half a dozen large
targets there, probably destroyers escorting a cruiser or a small Kilrathi
carrier. A handful of smaller contacts were fighters, probably Darket on
escort duty. The enemy force wasn't overwhelming, but it would present a
significant challenge nonetheless.
"Okay," he said at length, using a low-power general broadcast channel
that would keep his transmission localized and, hopefully, secret from any
Kilrathi who might be trying to monitor Terran comm frequencies. As he
spoke, his computer relayed additional data as he entered it, projecting
courses, targets, and other information. "We ve got Сem spotted now. Major
Berterelli, you're going to circle the jump point outside their likely
sensor range and attack the targets designated Four and Five on the sensor
feed. Gold Squadron will cover for you. When you withdraw, go to ecliptic
heading one-eight-one by zero-six-four."
"That's away from Victory," Berterelli pointed out.
"Got it in one, Major," Blair told him. "I want to hit the cats fast,
rile them up, and then draw them away from the jump point. If they think
Victory's coming from the far side of the point, they'll deploy in that
direction and throw out a wide cordon to try and spot her."
"Leaving the route in wide open," Maniac said. "You know, Maverick,
sometimes you're almost as smart as everybody says you think you are!"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Blair said. "Once you break
contact with the bad guys, Green Squadron should circle around to rendezvous
with the carrier. Gold Squadron will continue to withdraw on the original
heading until I give the word. Then I want you to separate into wing teams
and head for home. Don't leave your wingman unless absolutely necessary, and
remember the timetable. Victory will be at the jump point in . . . seventy
minutes from now. If you're not back on board by then, you've lost your ride
out of here. Any questions?"
There were none. "Good," Blair continued. "Now . . . Hobbes, you and
Vagabond are on point. Then the Longbows. The rest of us bring up the rear.
You have your orders. Make sure you all come back in one piece. You know how
I hate filling out casualty reports."
Hobbes and Vagabond were already accelerating, steering the course
Blair indicated. As he waited for the Green Squadron bombers to move out,
Blair switched to the tactical channel for his wingman. "This is it, Cobra.
Hope there's enough cats out here for you."
"It'll do," she said. "But I'm still kind of wondering how I ended up
on your wing, Colonel."
"Not a whole lot of options, Lieutenant," he told her. "With Flint off
the roster and Vaquero banged up from that fight yesterday, I'm juggling.
Sorry if the arrangements don't suit you."
"I guess I figured you'd team with Hobbes, is all."
"Not this time," Blair told her. "I figured it was about time I let you
show me some of those moves of yours."
Actually, it had been a difficult decision to make, pairing up the
pilots in Gold Squadron for this mission. He had wanted Hobbes on point, no
question; the Kilrathi's instincts and discipline made him the ideal choice
to lead them in. But much as he would have relished flying with Ralgha,
Blair's place wasn't on the very front line. As wing commander he had to
stay out of the action until he was sure of the tactical situation.
But there were sharp limits in how he could deploy the rest of the
squadron. He still couldn't trust Buckley to cooperate with Ralgha, and
neither Flash nor Maniac was his idea of a good point man to team with the
Kilrathi. So Vagabond was with Hobbes. With great reluctance Blair teamed
the two majors together, even though he knew he was asking for trouble.
Neither one was very reliable anyway, so it seemed better to have them let
each other down instead of breaking up two different teams if and when they
let themselves run wild.
So he'd crossed his fingers and put them together and ordered Cobra to
fly on his wing. He hoped neither choice would turn out to be disastrous.
But Vaquero, though physically fit after the battle with the Dralthi, was a
bundle of nerves and not really ready for duty so soon. And as for Flint . .
.
He almost put her back on the roster, but with so much at stake, he
wasn't willing to risk a repeat performance. She was on duty in Flight
Control again.
Cobra stuck close by him as they trailed the rest of the Terran flight,
keeping strict radio silence now. They wouldn't use their comm channels
until they engaged the enemy. Blair hoped Amazon Mbuto had followed her
orders and headed back for the carrier. He wouldn't know for sure until the
operation was nearly over. . . .
On his sensor screen, images began to appear, seemingly out of nowhere,
as he came into range of the enemy force. The blips that represented the
Confed fighters and bombers seemed pitifully inadequate to take on the
Kilrathi ships, but they were already starting their runs. Hobbes and
Vagabond opened the fight by engaging a trio of Darket close to the nearest
of the two targeted capital ships. Berterelli's bombers ignored them and
plunged past, hurtling at top speed toward the Kilrathi destroyer. There
were more fighters registering beyond that large ship, and they could pose
trouble for the Longbows.
"Maniac! Flash!" Blair said sharply. "You see that formation on the
other side of the destroyer? Get in there and have some fun with them."
"Yes, sir, Colonel, sir," Maniac said. "Come on, rookie last one firing
is kitty litter!"
"What about us, sir?" Cobra asked.
"We stick with Berterelli, Lieutenant," Blair told her, "in case
something crops up he can't handle."
For several minutes they maintained their position behind the bombers,
spectators as Berterelli's pilots unleashed a heavy attack against the first
destroyer and then broke off to climb away from the deadly warship dodging
defensive fire all the way. One of the Longbows didn't make it out, but the
other five did. The attack didn't destroy the Kilrathi ship, but Blair's
sensors registered serious damage to shields, armor, and propulsion systems.
The cats knew they'd been hit, that much was sure.
The second destroyer was a tougher nut to crack. Forewarned, it laid
down a devastating pattern of fire against the incoming Longbows. A series
of shots raked across Major Berterelli's bomber, and the Longbow came apart
under the force of the barrage . . . but not before the Italian pilot
released a full spread of ship-killer missiles. And the other bombers
dropped their remaining loads simultaneously. As if avenging the squadron
leader, they received the satisfaction of seeing those shots hit home.
Explosions rippled down the spine of the destroyer. A few seconds later, a
massive fireball consumed it. Some of the chunks were bigger than the Terran
Thunderbolts, adding to the confusion that reigned on the Kilrathi
perimeter.
"Retreat! Retreat! All fighters retreat!" Blair called. The Terran
ships began to disengage, even Maniac and Flash. They turned away now, on
their false escape heading, but Blair and Cobra hung back to cover the
retreat.
So far, neither had fired a shot.
A pair of Darket gave chase, but Cobra took out one with a well-placed
barrage from her tail gun, and Blair used a hard braking maneuver to change
vector and let the second one shoot past him. Then he took it out with
sustained blaster fire, saving his missiles in case a real threat developed.
No other fighters approached them as they continued their retreat.
Just before losing sensor contact with the Kilrathi ships Blair saw
that the destroyers were in motion. He allowed himself a grim smile. As he
hoped, they were spreading out to throw up a detection net . . . but they
were on the wrong side of the jump point to block Victory now.
Bridge, TCS Victory Ariel System
"Last of the Hellcats is aboard now, sir," Rollins reported from his
post at Communications. "And the first Longbows just checked in, looking for
clearance. Looks like it's going down smooth."
"Let's hope it stays that way," Eisen growled. "Helm? What's our
status?"
"ETA is fifteen minutes. sir, the helmsman reported.
"Blair's cutting it fine," Rollins muttered. "Hope he knows what he's
doing out there."
"A little less chatter, Lieutenant, if you please," the captain said.
"Navigation, begin plotting for jump. Mr. Rollins, make it СJump Stations,'
if you Ч "
"Sir!" The Sensor Officer broke in. "Captain, the jump point . . . it's
not there!"
"What?" Rollins spoke before he could stop himself. "It ain't there?
What do you mean, it ain't there?"
"Lieutenant!" Eisen snapped. "Explanations, people. I need explanations
. . ."
"It's like the cats just managed to . . . to dose off the jump point,
sir," the Sensor Officer said. "I don't know how. But it isn't out there any
more."
"And without it, we're stuck," someone else said aloud.
Rollins looked at Eisen. The man's face was darkly impassive, but he
could see the expression in the captain's eyes. However the Kilrathi had
done it, there was one thing certain. Victory was trapped
Thunderbolt 300 Ariel System
"We haven't been able to determine exactly what's going on, Colonel,
but it appears that the Kilrathi have somehow managed to close off the jump
point to Caliban."
"How the hell can they do that? It ain't poss Ч "
"Clear the channel, Maniac!" Blair snapped. He understood how Marshall
felt, but they couldn't afford to waste precious time in useless hysterics.
"Sorry, Captain. Continue the message."
"We're going to have to try for another jump point instead," Eisen went
on as if there hadn't been an interruption. "The Delius jump point isn't far
. . . if it's still out there. We're downloading the coordinates to you now.
Reform your squadron and keep their light stuff off our backs until we get
there, And keep your fingers crossed that this door isn't closed, too."
"Understood, Captain," Blair said. He paused. "And if there's a picket
at the other jump point, sir? I doubt we can out fox them a second time
around . . ."
"Just pray we get lucky, Colonel," Eisen said grimly. "Because luck's
about the only thing that'll bail us out at this point."
"Roger that," Blair responded. "Okay, Gold Squadron, you heard the man.
Form on me and keep a sharp eye on your sensors. By this time they've
probably got more than Darket out there, so be ready."
"If they can close down one jump point, they can close Сem all," Maniac
said, still sounding ragged. "How the hell are we supposed to fight them if
they can do that?"
"Stay frosty, Maniac," Blair told him. "Same for the rest of you.
Whatever the cats are doing, we can't let it put us off our stride now. The
ship's counting on us."
He adjusted his course to match the vectors Victory's computers fed to
the fighters and adjusted the sensitivity on his scanners. If the Kilrathi
really could shut down a jump point at will, the war was as good as over . .
. but Blair refused to allow himself to dwell on the bitter thought. For
now, all that mattered was survival.
Command Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Ariel System
"They are moving again, Lord Prince." Melek gave a deep, formal bow as
he approached the throne on its raised dais. "The destroyer Irrkham has them
at the very edge of his sensor range. Their vector indicates they are
probably trying for the Delius jump point. It is the closest to their
present location."
Thrakhath studied Melek without speaking, and the retainer grew
uncomfortable under his lingering stare. Finally the Prince spoke. "The Mask
has performed its function, then?" he asked.
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek replied. "The Galiban jump point does not
register on any sensors. The Terrans must have believed we simply cut it
down, like helpless prey."
"The apes should have remained in the trees of their homeworld, and
never challenged warriors of the stars," Thrakhath said, showing his fangs.
"They are fools."
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek agreed quietly. Inwardly he wasn't so sure.
It was true that the Terrans still lagged behind the Empire in cloaking
technology, but they were catching up fast. They would realize, soon enough,
that the Kilrathi couldn't actually close down a jump point, but only
obscure it with a particularly powerful cloaking field Ч and even then only
where the dust and gas of a nebula made it possible for the cloak to operate
effectively over the large distances needed to cover the jump point.
But Thrakhath remained utterly contemptuous of the Terrans. It was an
attitude that worried Melek more and more as the climax of the campaign
approached. So far events had unfolded much as the Prince planned, excluding
the continued interference of the Victory after several attempts to cripple
the carrier had failed. No doubt the unexpected Kilrathi ability to make
jump points seem to vanish would, as Thrakhath intended, cause the humans to
choose a different target system when they deployed their new weapon,
regardless of the knowledge concerning their adversaries. But, sooner or
later, Thrakhath's disdain for the Terrans might well lead him to
underestimate them at a critical moment, and that could have disastrous
consequences.
Melek began to wish he had never accepted the post as Thrakhath's
chee'dyachee. As senior vassal and retainer to the Crown Prince, he wielded
great power and commanded much influence . . . and was perfectly placed to
watch the Imperial family in the interests of his own Clan. But it was a
precarious perch at best, given the Prince's temper, and sometimes it was
difficult to restrain himself from voicing the doubts he could not put
aside.
He became aware that the Crown Prince was still eyeing him with an
almost predatory look.
"You seem . . . distracted, Melek," Thrakhath said. "Is there some
problem?"
"No, Lord Prince," he replied. "No problem. I was merely . . . awaiting
your instructions now that the Terrans have set their new course.
"The plan remains as I outlined it earlier. Now that they have been
frightened by our power over the jump points, we will allow them to escape
through the Delius point. Order the ships there to drop the Mask and proceed
toward the Caliban jump point, as if to reinforce our squadron there after
the Terran attack. If they can punish the carrier along the way, they may do
so, but remember that the vessel must escape, both to carry word of our new
weapon to their leaders and to preserve . . . our other asset. Understood?"
"Yes, Lord Prince." Melek bowed again and withdrew, thankful the
audience was over.
Thunderbolt 300 Ariel System
"We've got company, Colonel. Looks like a destroyer, with at least two
fighters on escort. Feeding you the coordinates now . . ."
The information scrolled across Blair's monitor before Rollins finished
speaking. The Kilrathi ship was ahead and to port of Victory, and from its
heading was returning from the Delius jump point. The cats were either
reinforcing their first squadron or throwing out a net to intercept the
Terrans.
In either case, the destroyer could be trouble. There were two fighters
flying close by, Vaktoth by the look of their sensor signatures. They could
complicate any attempt to deal with the bigger ship.
Blair wished he still had some of the Longbows available, but Gold
Squadron was the only fighter force that had not landed on the flight deck
and started securing for jump. It was up to the six Thunderbolts to do what
they could to protect the carrier.
"Gold Squadron, this is Leader," Blair said. "Tally-ho!" It was the
age-old pilot's cry that the enemy was in sight, dating back to the days
before spaceflight. "Follow me in, people!"
He kicked in his afterburners and steered the fighter toward the
Kilrathi targets, the rest of the squadron trailing him. Blair checked his
weapons status and armed blasters and heat-seeking missiles. He and Cobra
had engaged in the least amount of fighting at the first jump point, their
ships with the least damage and the most reloads available. That made them
the best candidates for taking on the destroyer. But it was essential that
they get some reliable protection from the enemy fighters.
"Hobbes, Vagabond, you two keep those Vaktoth off our backs," he
ordered. "The rest of us are hunting the big cat this time. Understood?"
"We are complying," Hobbes said calmly.
"Just let me at Сem," Maniac said. He sounded a little less nervous
now, as if the prospect of a stand-up fight helped steady him after the
shock of having the jump point vanish. Blair hoped he would keep his head.
"Lead the way, Colonel," Cobra added a moment later. She sounded
professional, but a little grim.
He reduced his speed and allowed Hobbes and Vagabond to accelerate past
the rest of the squadron, diving in toward the enemy formation. Hobbes
screamed a Kilrathi challenge as the two fighters closed with their opposite
numbers, and that seemed to unnerve the Vaktoth pilots. Both enemy fighters
circled away, evading rather than offering battle Ч unusual for the
Kilrathi. Perhaps these were inexperienced flyers, Blair told himself. But
was it significant that they were running from Hobbes again . . . ?
He forced the thought from his mind and concentrated instead on the
destroyer. It loomed ahead, all menacing points and angles, an asymmetrical,
four-pronged dagger aimed at Victory.
"Let's rock!" Maniac called, accelerating suddenly to full speed and
diving toward the destroyer, all guns firing wildly. Flash was right behind
him. The destroyer's main batteries opened up, driving bolt after bolt of
raw energy at the fast-moving Terran ships. Somehow neither Terran fighter
was hit, but their blasters battered the destroyer's shields. There was a
ripple of explosions as Flash dumped three missiles in quick succession.
None penetrated the shields, but Blair's scanners showed the enemy defenses
weakening.
Blair killed his momentum, bringing the fighter practically to a dead
stop. It was a risky move so close to a capital ship, but with Maniac and
Flash doing such a good job of drawing the enemy's attention it was too good
a chance to miss. Now the destroyer was lumbering toward him, a nice, steady
target. If he could just get in enough good shots at the weakened section of
the shielding . . .
He opened fire with his blasters, squeezing off shot after shot until
his power reserves were exhausted and the guns shut down until their
generators could recycle and bring them back up to full power. The Kilrathi
shields still held. It was only then that he realized that Cobra had
emulated his move. Her ship was a bare thirty meters off his wing, and now
her blasters focused on the same narrow target area as Blair.
The enemy ship's shields failed, and Blair gave a wolfish grin. His
blasters came back on-line, and he started firing again. This time the shots
were taking off armor, chipping away ever closer to the vulnerable hull of
the destroyer. The enemy captain must have recognized his danger by this
time, but Maniac and Flash were still closer, still weaving in and out and
raking the big ship with sustained if less concentrated fire. Automatic
shipboard defense systems would naturally try to track and destroy the
nearer threats first, and crewed guns took time to realign on new targets .
. .
Blair's blasters ran down a second time, and he switched to a salvo of
missiles. Cobra launched at almost the same moment. "Let's get moving,
Lieutenant," Blair said, starting up his engines again. He was just
beginning to accelerate to full speed when a blast from one of the
destroyers main guns caught his port-side shield, knocking it down and
ripping into the wing armor in one blow. Then he was clear of the danger and
turned quickly to place some distance between his Thunderbolt and the
Kilrathi ship.
The missiles began to detonate, tearing through the last of the armor
and deep into the bowels of the capital ship. It almost seemed to shudder
before it finally tore itself apart.
"Ye-es!" That was Maniac, exultant. "Scratch one great big kitty!"
"Good shooting, Colonel," Cobra added.
"Good shooting, all," Blair corrected. "That one was a team effort. Now
let's see if Hobbes and Vagabond need any help cleaning up their little
mess.
One of the Vaktoth was running, the other was heavily engaged with
Vagabond's Thunderbolt. By the time the rest of Gold Squadron was in range,
Hobbes had already come to the aid of his wingman and sent the heavy fighter
off to join the shattered destroyer.
"What's your status, people?" Blair asked, calling up his own combat
data. He couldn't afford to take another hit on his port side, and he was
down to only a single missile. Another serious fight would probably be too
much for his battered Thunderbolt to handle.
"Damage is minimal, Colonel," Cobra reported. "But I'm out of missiles,
and my fuel reserves aren't looking good."
"I, too, am out of missiles," Hobbes said. "And my forward armor is
badly damaged."
The others made similar reports, with damage ranging from Cobra's very
minor hits up to Flash, who had suffered serious damage in the fight with
the destroyer and was now running with damaged engines and an intermittent
fault in his sensors. Blair frowned as he considered the situation. The
squadron couldn't do a whole lot more at this point. But they had no idea
what else the Kilrathi might throw at them.
"Jump point is on our screens," Rollins reported suddenly. "Looks like
we got lucky this time!"
"What about enemy activity?" Blair asked, still frowning. "Anything on
your sensors?"
"Looks like another cat destroyer out there, Colonel but at extreme
sensor range, Rollins reported after a moments pause. "From his current
vector, it doesn't look like he'll be in any position to interfere with us.
Captain says to bring your birds back to the nest, sir You're clear to land
. . . and . . . you guys sure did a good job holding off those
sons-of-bitches."
"Thank God for small favors," Blair muttered. "All right Gold Squadron.
Let's pack it in. And pray we don't get any new surprises before we hit the
jump point."
Flight Deck, TCS Victory Ariel System
Blair climbed slowly from his cockpit, tired and stiff after the long
strain of flying. He hadn't realized his personal toll from the operation
until now. With the mission over, all he wanted to do was take a long
shower, then catch a few hundred hours of sack time.
Unfortunately, that wasn't how it worked. Before seeing his bunk again,
Blair knew there was a load of work to finish first.
ALL HANDS, ALL HANDS, JUMP STATIONS. REPEAT, JUMP STATIONS.
INTERSTELLAR TRANSIT IN THREE MINUTES. The computer announcement blared over
the ship's tannoy, and all around Blair techs hastened to get ready for the
jump, like so many ants stirred up by a threat to their hill.
"You sure did bang the old girl up this time, skipper," Rachel Coriolis
said from behind him. He turned to see her pointing at the twisted armor and
scorched hull plating where the destroyer's gun had pierced his shields.
"Better get clear, sir, before the jump."
He nodded, then turned toward the far end of the hangar. Safety
precautions called for the hangar deck to be cleared prior to any jump, and
already the huge chamber was nearly empty of crewmen. Blair strode rapidly
across the deck with Rachel, a few stragglers close behind
The doors snapped open to reveal a tense scene in the corridor beside
the elevator. A number of pilots and technicians were present, but the main
focus was on Cobra and Hobbes, standing face to face in the middle of the
passageway. Lieutenant Buckley had an angry expression on her face, and her
hands were flexing as if she, like the Kilrathi, had claws that could tear
at her enemies' throats. In contrast, Ralgha nar Hhallas was calm,
impassive, a stoic figure facing Cobra's venom.
"Why didn't you warn us that your kind could close jump points?" she
demanded, her voice low and menacing.
"I was not aware that they could," Ralgha told her. "This is obviously
a recently developed advancement to Kilrathi technology. And a very serious
threat. The ability to close down a jump point will give the Empire a great
advantage, I fear."
"Come off it, you fur-faced son-of-a-bitch," Cobra snarled. "You mean
to tell us you didn't know anything about this? I don't believe you!"
"I have been in Confederation service for over a decade, Lieutenant,"
the Kilrathi told her, drawing himself up with an air of quiet dignity.
"Much has changed during that time, on both sides of the border. Perhaps
this represents a breakthrough in jump theory."
"More likely in cloaking technology," Rachel said, stepping between
them. "I don't think the Kilrathi can actually shut down a jump point at
all."
"Hey, I wasn't hallucinating out there," Cobra said, turning her angry
glare on the technician. "We all saw the first jump point drop right off our
screens."
"Look, I've been studying cloaks," Rachel said. "The new Excaliburs are
supposed to mount them. In theory a big enough generator could project a
cloak that could mask out something as large as a jump point. But it would
only work in a nebula, and it would be damned hard to maintain even then.
That's what we were facing. I'd bet hard credits on it.
"Well, whether they can kill it or just hide it, the cats can mess up
our jump points," Cobra said, a little less wild but still clearly angry.
She stepped past Rachel and jabbed a finger at Hobbes. "And you claim you
had no clue they could pull that?"
"No more than you, Lieutenant," Ralgha told her.
"You're a liar."
Blair stepped forward, thrusting himself between the two pilots. "That
will be enough, Lieutenant," he said harshly. "Colonel Ralgha's loyalty is
not to be questioned in this way again. Is that understood?"
"But. . ."
"I will not have a junior officer making wild accusations about one of
her seniors. If you gather concrete evidence to back up your claims, then
you see me, in private, through proper channels. Otherwise, you keep your
mouth shut!"
"Yes, sir, she said at last.
"JUMP SEQUENCE ENGAGED. ONE MINUTE TO JUMP," the loudspeaker announced.
The elevator doors opened, and Cobra pushed through the semi-circle of
onlookers into the car. Neither Blair nor Hobbes chose to follow her.
Bridge, TCS Victory Ariel System
"And ten seconds . . . nine . . . eight . . ."
Eisen was determined not to betray his mounting tension as the computer
ticked off the final seconds of the countdown to jump. What if the Kilrathi
really could shut down a jump point? If they cut this one now, Victory would
be trapped and totally vulnerable to the destroyers that were beginning to
close in.
Or . . . what would happen to a ship initiating a jump sequence if the
jump point failed? Would it remain in place . . . or end up trapped in
hyperspace, unable to complete the transition to its destination?
"Three . . . two . . . and one . . . initiating transit. . . now."
He felt the familiar gut-twisting sensation of transit, and despite the
nausea, muscle spasms, and the wrenching disorientation of the jump, Eisen
was relieved. At least Victory had escaped the cats, whatever happened next
. . .
The jump was over in an instant. Eisen had to blink and shake his head
a time or two to clear the fog in his brain, but it didn't take long to
regain control over his body, though every nerve was still protesting over
the unnatural act of being flung across an unimaginable distance through a
realm no human was ever supposed to enter.
"Report," he croaked.
Lieutenant Commander Lisa Morgan, Victory's Navigator, managed to sound
alert. "Aye, aye, sir," she said, her fingers moving over her controls to
call up a computer program that would analyze their surroundings and confirm
that they had emerged on target. After a moment she went on. "Stellar type
and data match within 99.4 percent. No planets registering. Asteroid belts .
. . it checks, Captain. Delius System . . . or its twin."
Eisen nodded slowly. "Very good. Commander Morgan, set course to Delius
Station. Mr. Rollins, raise the local defense forces and let them know we're
here. Secure from Jump Stations and resume in-system operations." He paused.
"I want the ship combat-ready as soon as possible. After that, I want a full
after-action analysis by all combat departments. We have to determine what
the hell went on back there, before the cats pull it on us again."
His officers responded promptly, and Eisen felt a glow of pride. They'd
been close to the breaking point, but somehow they'd kept on going.
In the end, that was the only thing that counted.
Command Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Ariel System
"The Terrans have withdrawn, then, Melek?" Thrakhath was lounging on
his throne, feeling satisfied. A pair of destroyers had been lost along with
a few fighters, and he intended to see to it that whoever was responsible
for the losses paid the supreme penalty. But overall, everything went
exactly as planned. The apes had been given a warning they would not soon
forget. It would make them cautious for a time, and even if they realized
that the Empire's ability to mask jump points was limited to nebulas they
would surely shun this system, so the base where the Imperial Fleet would
gather for Thrakhath's grand stroke would remain secure.
Now it was time to think of the next stage in the plan.
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek said. "They have withdrawn into the Delius
System. Of course, there is no way of telling how long they will remain . .
."
"Then we must act quickly, before they move on," Thrakhath told him,
pounding the arm of his throne to emphasize the point. "Is it certain that
the one called Blair is still assigned to the carrier?"
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek acknowledged. "We monitored his voice on the
comm channels during the fight, a perfect match to our files. He is the wing
commander. According to recent intelligence, the renegade serves as his
deputy."
"Excellent," Thrakhath said, showing his fangs for an instant. "Perhaps
it is best that the human escaped our earlier attacks. We have the perfect
weapon to use against him, and the results will leave these apes demoralized
just when our blow is about to fall."
"You think, then, that the challenge will work, on a human? Their sense
of honor is not the same as ours Lord Prince." Melek bowed low, to show that
he did not mean to doubt his Lord's judgment.
"Oh, this challenge will work, I think," Thrakhath said quietly. "They
do not have honor, Melek, but they do have pride . . . and anger. We will
goad this ape into a foolish gesture, and at the same time . . ."
"The Trigger," Melek said.
"The Trigger. And we will have our claws at their throats once and for
all." Thrakhath straightened. Pass the orders, Melek. Assemble the
designated task force and be ready to jump within a cycle."
"Yes, Lord Prince." Melek withdrew, bowing again.
Crown Prince Thrakhath contemplated the stars that blazed through the
dome above his dais. The stars that would soon belong entirely to the
Empire.
Wing Commander's Office, TCS Victory Delius System
"Reporting as ordered, sir."
"Come in, Lieutenant," Blair said, gesturing to the chair in front of
his desk. "Sit down."
Flint settled into the seat, her eyes holding a look somewhere between
hope and wariness. "Thank you, sir," she said. "Ah . . . those were some
good moves you guys put on yesterday, Colonel. Although I couldn't really
tell everything that was going on . . . from Flight Control."
He smiled. "You don't need to drop hints, Lieutenant. I know it's been
difficult for you, sitting on the sidelines."
"It's just . . . Look, sir, it just isn't the same, flying a console
aboard ship. I belong in the cockpit. That's all there is to it. If you
can't put me there, then transfer me to a unit where I can get a fresh
start."
"You're pretty blunt, Lieutenant," he said. "Let me be the same. If I
don't put you back on the flight roster here, it'll be because I have a
problem with you flying. So you can be damned sure my report in your file
would reflect my doubts. Don't think a transfer is going to get you back in
the cockpit just because I'm not your CO any longer."
Her look was bleak, bitter. "I lost it, back at Locanda. I admit it.
But I don t think that mistake should hang over me forever, Colonel.
Watching those bastards slip past us, knowing they were going to spread
their plague on my home that was more than I could handle. But it isn't
likely to come up again." She managed a crooked smile.
"The stakes are less . . . personal, now. Is that it?" He kept his own
tone serious.
"I guess so, sir," she said. "I hate to admit it. I mean, when I took
my oath it was to the Confederation, not to any one planet. But Locanda was
so much more real to me, when it went down. I could see it, in my mind: the
places, the people. It made a difference."
"If it didn't, you wouldn't be human," he said. Blair studied her for a
moment. She seemed too small, too fragile to be a combat pilot. "The problem
is, you made me a promise once before, and you didn't keep it. Do you want
to get back in that cockpit bad enough to follow through this time?"
"I can't prove that unless you give me the chance, Colonel," she said.
"When I'm out there with that bird strapped around me and a cat in my sights
. . . that's the only time I really feel alive."
Blair nodded sadly. He remembered Angel saying something like that
once, back on the Tiger's Claw. I knew . . . I know someone who felt the
same way. She lived to fight Сthe good fight,' as she called it."
"For me, it's the flying," Flint told him. "I love the purity . . .
nothing holding me back. Knowing I'm in complete control, for better or
worse."
"Yeah," Blair said, nodding again. "Yeah, only a pilot knows that
feeling."
"Well, Colonel, if you understand how I feel, then you have to know
what I'm going through now. I wasn't designed for cheerleading from the
sidelines, or playing traffic director in Flight Control. I'm requesting
reassignment to flight status." She paused. "Please. . ."
"I don't usually give third chances, Lieutenant," he said slowly "But
we could have used you out there yesterday. Next time we'll need you even
more. You're back on the roster, effective immediately, Flint."
"Thank you, sir. . ."
He held up a hand. "But if you screw up again . . . heaven help you.
Because I won t."
"Understood, Colonel." She stood up. "This time you won't regret it."
Flight Wing Rec Room, TCS Victory Delius System
A jagged, irregular chunk of rock eighteen kilometers across dominated
the view from the rec room. A few moving lights marked the passage of
shuttles and service pods back and forth between carrier and asteroid. In
the three hours since Victory matched orbits with Delius Station, a thorough
inspection of the ship's hull and external fittings had already been
completed, and the captain had authorized liberty for the off-duty watch.
There weren't as many takers as might be expected Ч Delius Station was
reputed to be one of the most boring stopovers in the sector Ч but there was
a definite easing of tensions on board at the realization that they really
were back in friendly territory at last.
Blair sat alone at a table, sipping his scotch and gazing at the
planetoid and the star field beyond. In one corner of the room, Vaquero was
softly strumming his old guitar, a quiet, mournful sound. Lieutenant Lopez
had been certified fit for flight duty by the ship's Medical Officer the day
before, and Blair restored him to the roster. But he still wondered if Lopez
was fully recovered from the battering he had taken in the first clash in
the nebula.
He heard Maniac Marshall call a greeting as he entered the rec room,
and half-turned in his chair to watch the major at the bar. Marshall was his
usual self, boisterous self-assured, wearing a broad smile as he took his
drink from Rostov and waved an airy greeting to Flint and Cobra, who were
sitting together at a nearby table.
To Blair's surprise, Maniac ambled to his table. "Colonel," he said,
giving him a nod.
"Major," Blair replied. He waited a moment before going on. "Something
I can do for you."
Maniac grew visibly uncomfortable, all his cockiness disappearing as he
stammered a response. "Er . . . fact is, I wanted to tell you . . . I wanted
to say . . . Maverick, that was a damned impressive show back at Ariel. The
way you faked that first bunch out of position . . . and the way you kept
your cool after the cats pulled their little magic trick." He looked
embarrassed. "I know we don't always operate on the same frequency. . . but
I thought I should give credit where it's due."
Blair raised an eyebrow. "Well. . ." He wasn't sure how to respond.
Maniac Marshall had never before made such an overture. "Thanks for the vote
of confidence. It was touch and go there for a while, though."
"Yeah," Marshall agreed. "Tell me about it. When they made that jump
point disappear . . . God, I almost lost it. I never thought I'd feel that
way, Maverick. Never.
"You kept your head pretty well, all things considered," Blair told
him. "We couldn't have nailed that destroyer without you and Flash."
"We could have taken her out by ourselves, if you and Cobra had let
us," Maniac said with a trace of his old spirit. "But . . . yeah, it was a
good score all the way around." He looked out the viewport and continued
with a sour note in his voice. "You think Chief Coriolis was right about the
Kilrathi using a cloak on the jump points, Maverick?"
"That's the official verdict," Blair said. "The analysis the captain
ordered turned up sensor traces consistent with the use of cloaking
generators. That's the report he ordered dispatched to Sector HQ."
"So we only have to worry about them pulling something like that in a
nebula, huh?" Marshall looked solemn. "I guess that's good news, at least."
"It also means we won't be stuck, next time out," Blair said. "It might
take longer, but we could use a cloaked jump point providing we already had
it thoroughly plotted on our charts."
"Does that mean we're going back? To finish the mission? Or with this
weapon everybody's talking about?"
"That'll be up to the brass," Blair told him. "But I doubt it. If we're
going to use an experimental weapon under difficult conditions, why borrow
even more trouble? Of course, I'm not an admiral. Maybe they could find a
good reason, but it seems like a silly risk to me."
"Hope you're right," Maniac said. He studied the view outside in
silence for a long moment. "Nebulas and asteroid belts . . . I'll be glad to
us our sneak peek at the situation, and maybe to discourage the bad guys
from interfering with our approach. But then you'll have to get your
fighters aboard fast, before we jump . . . and possibly under fire. Anybody
who misses the boat is stuck." His eyes narrowed. "We can't afford another
incident like Locanda, for instance. I don't think we'll be in any position
to loiter around waiting for stragglers. Can your people do this?"
Blair nodded slowly, but inside his mind was racing to consider all the
problems against them. "It'll be tricky, Captain, but I'll see what we can
put together to eliminate the problems as much as possible."
"Good. Navigation tells me it'll be eighteen hours before we hit the
jump point. So your people will have a little sack time, at least, before
they have to launch." Eisen gave him a look. "Try to get some yourself, too,
Colonel. We need you out there fresh and at your best."
"Yes, sir," Blair said, but he knew the planning and preparation time
would make things tight. Sleep was a luxury he had to postpone until he knew
the wing was ready. He stood up slowly, and Ralgha did the same. "I'll keep
you posted on our plans, Captain. Come on, Hobbes. Looks like we burn the
midnight electrons again."
Thunderbolt 300 Ariel System
"All right, people, you know the drill," Blair said over the general
comm channel. "Do this thing by the numbers, and we'll be past the cats
before they know we're even in the neighborhood. But don't get distracted.
You stop to look at the scenery and you'll be stuck seeing it for the rest
of your life . . . which won't be long if Thrakhath's little playmates have
their way. so . . . let's do it!"
It was another magnum launch, with a full contingent of fighters
deployed in space around the Victory as she cruised slowly through the
colorful, swirling gases of the nebula toward the jump point to Caliban. As
before the point defense squadron would be held back to defend the ship
against Kilrathi fighters while the rest of the wing mounted Eisen's recon
in force ahead of the carrier.
Blair hoped he'd covered all the likely contingencies in formulating
his plans for the mission. If he'd left something out, it was too late now
to deal with it. They were committed, for good or ill.
"Major Mbuto, you're up," he said. "Good luck. . . but I hope you won't
be mad if I don't wish you good hunting!"
Amazon Mbuto chuckled. "This is one time when we'd all be glad for an
empty scanner screen, Colonel," she said.
Mbuto's interceptors were on point, as usual, scouting ahead of the
others in hopes of locating any enemy ships around the jump point before
they realized the Terrans were on their way. She had six Arrows in all, with
orders to locate the Kilrathi but, if possible, to avoid engaging. Victory
would keep a secure laser channel open with her fighter throughout the op so
that Rollins could pick up her sensor feed and analyze the tactical
situation ahead of time, despite the sensor interference from the nebula.
If she did spot enemy ships blocking Victory's chosen escape route, the
other squadrons would be called: Berterelli's Longbows to launch bombing
strikes on capital ships and Gold Squadron to provide cover for them or to
engage Kilrathi fighters. Meanwhile, once the initial scouting was finished,
Mbuto would withdraw and land on Victory, followed by the bombers as soon as
they dumped their loads and, hopefully, disrupted any enemy capital ships in
the neighborhood. The Thunderbolts would be the last to return to the
carrier, thus reducing the amount of traffic Flight Control would deal with
in the critical minutes before the ship attempted to jump.
That was the plan, at least. But Blair couldn't help remembering an
ancient military maxim . . . No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.
Any number of things could go wrong, and there was precious little room for
error.
At least a mistake today wouldn't end in the devastation of an entire
colony world. But that was cold comfort as far as Blair was concerned.
Victory's fate was on the line, and despite his early reaction to the
battered little escort carrier, Blair had learned to think of the ship as
home and her crew as comrades, even friends. Losing her wouldn't be like
losing the Concordia, but . . .
He shook himself out of his reverie. If Victory didn't make it, neither
would Colonel Christopher Blair. This time he wasn't likely to outlive his
carrier by more than a matter of minutes, hours at most.
The time passed slowly as they waited for a report from the scouts.
Comm line chatter was subdued and sporadic, and Blair had plenty of time for
second and even third thoughts. Periodically he cursed the prolonged
inactivity, knowing it would be demoralizing the others as much as himself,
but there was nothing to be done. Until the interceptors reported, the other
pilots could do nothing more than keep formation, watch their screens, and
wait.
Victory to Recon Leader," Rollins said at last. "We're getting sensor
imagery from Amazon. Captain was right, Colonel. There's a welcoming
committee out there. Stand by for coordinate feed."
In seconds, his scanner began displaying targets around the Caliban
jump point, and Blair studied them intently. There were half a dozen large
targets there, probably destroyers escorting a cruiser or a small Kilrathi
carrier. A handful of smaller contacts were fighters, probably Darket on
escort duty. The enemy force wasn't overwhelming, but it would present a
significant challenge nonetheless.
"Okay," he said at length, using a low-power general broadcast channel
that would keep his transmission localized and, hopefully, secret from any
Kilrathi who might be trying to monitor Terran comm frequencies. As he
spoke, his computer relayed additional data as he entered it, projecting
courses, targets, and other information. "We ve got Сem spotted now. Major
Berterelli, you're going to circle the jump point outside their likely
sensor range and attack the targets designated Four and Five on the sensor
feed. Gold Squadron will cover for you. When you withdraw, go to ecliptic
heading one-eight-one by zero-six-four."
"That's away from Victory," Berterelli pointed out.
"Got it in one, Major," Blair told him. "I want to hit the cats fast,
rile them up, and then draw them away from the jump point. If they think
Victory's coming from the far side of the point, they'll deploy in that
direction and throw out a wide cordon to try and spot her."
"Leaving the route in wide open," Maniac said. "You know, Maverick,
sometimes you're almost as smart as everybody says you think you are!"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Blair said. "Once you break
contact with the bad guys, Green Squadron should circle around to rendezvous
with the carrier. Gold Squadron will continue to withdraw on the original
heading until I give the word. Then I want you to separate into wing teams
and head for home. Don't leave your wingman unless absolutely necessary, and
remember the timetable. Victory will be at the jump point in . . . seventy
minutes from now. If you're not back on board by then, you've lost your ride
out of here. Any questions?"
There were none. "Good," Blair continued. "Now . . . Hobbes, you and
Vagabond are on point. Then the Longbows. The rest of us bring up the rear.
You have your orders. Make sure you all come back in one piece. You know how
I hate filling out casualty reports."
Hobbes and Vagabond were already accelerating, steering the course
Blair indicated. As he waited for the Green Squadron bombers to move out,
Blair switched to the tactical channel for his wingman. "This is it, Cobra.
Hope there's enough cats out here for you."
"It'll do," she said. "But I'm still kind of wondering how I ended up
on your wing, Colonel."
"Not a whole lot of options, Lieutenant," he told her. "With Flint off
the roster and Vaquero banged up from that fight yesterday, I'm juggling.
Sorry if the arrangements don't suit you."
"I guess I figured you'd team with Hobbes, is all."
"Not this time," Blair told her. "I figured it was about time I let you
show me some of those moves of yours."
Actually, it had been a difficult decision to make, pairing up the
pilots in Gold Squadron for this mission. He had wanted Hobbes on point, no
question; the Kilrathi's instincts and discipline made him the ideal choice
to lead them in. But much as he would have relished flying with Ralgha,
Blair's place wasn't on the very front line. As wing commander he had to
stay out of the action until he was sure of the tactical situation.
But there were sharp limits in how he could deploy the rest of the
squadron. He still couldn't trust Buckley to cooperate with Ralgha, and
neither Flash nor Maniac was his idea of a good point man to team with the
Kilrathi. So Vagabond was with Hobbes. With great reluctance Blair teamed
the two majors together, even though he knew he was asking for trouble.
Neither one was very reliable anyway, so it seemed better to have them let
each other down instead of breaking up two different teams if and when they
let themselves run wild.
So he'd crossed his fingers and put them together and ordered Cobra to
fly on his wing. He hoped neither choice would turn out to be disastrous.
But Vaquero, though physically fit after the battle with the Dralthi, was a
bundle of nerves and not really ready for duty so soon. And as for Flint . .
.
He almost put her back on the roster, but with so much at stake, he
wasn't willing to risk a repeat performance. She was on duty in Flight
Control again.
Cobra stuck close by him as they trailed the rest of the Terran flight,
keeping strict radio silence now. They wouldn't use their comm channels
until they engaged the enemy. Blair hoped Amazon Mbuto had followed her
orders and headed back for the carrier. He wouldn't know for sure until the
operation was nearly over. . . .
On his sensor screen, images began to appear, seemingly out of nowhere,
as he came into range of the enemy force. The blips that represented the
Confed fighters and bombers seemed pitifully inadequate to take on the
Kilrathi ships, but they were already starting their runs. Hobbes and
Vagabond opened the fight by engaging a trio of Darket close to the nearest
of the two targeted capital ships. Berterelli's bombers ignored them and
plunged past, hurtling at top speed toward the Kilrathi destroyer. There
were more fighters registering beyond that large ship, and they could pose
trouble for the Longbows.
"Maniac! Flash!" Blair said sharply. "You see that formation on the
other side of the destroyer? Get in there and have some fun with them."
"Yes, sir, Colonel, sir," Maniac said. "Come on, rookie last one firing
is kitty litter!"
"What about us, sir?" Cobra asked.
"We stick with Berterelli, Lieutenant," Blair told her, "in case
something crops up he can't handle."
For several minutes they maintained their position behind the bombers,
spectators as Berterelli's pilots unleashed a heavy attack against the first
destroyer and then broke off to climb away from the deadly warship dodging
defensive fire all the way. One of the Longbows didn't make it out, but the
other five did. The attack didn't destroy the Kilrathi ship, but Blair's
sensors registered serious damage to shields, armor, and propulsion systems.
The cats knew they'd been hit, that much was sure.
The second destroyer was a tougher nut to crack. Forewarned, it laid
down a devastating pattern of fire against the incoming Longbows. A series
of shots raked across Major Berterelli's bomber, and the Longbow came apart
under the force of the barrage . . . but not before the Italian pilot
released a full spread of ship-killer missiles. And the other bombers
dropped their remaining loads simultaneously. As if avenging the squadron
leader, they received the satisfaction of seeing those shots hit home.
Explosions rippled down the spine of the destroyer. A few seconds later, a
massive fireball consumed it. Some of the chunks were bigger than the Terran
Thunderbolts, adding to the confusion that reigned on the Kilrathi
perimeter.
"Retreat! Retreat! All fighters retreat!" Blair called. The Terran
ships began to disengage, even Maniac and Flash. They turned away now, on
their false escape heading, but Blair and Cobra hung back to cover the
retreat.
So far, neither had fired a shot.
A pair of Darket gave chase, but Cobra took out one with a well-placed
barrage from her tail gun, and Blair used a hard braking maneuver to change
vector and let the second one shoot past him. Then he took it out with
sustained blaster fire, saving his missiles in case a real threat developed.
No other fighters approached them as they continued their retreat.
Just before losing sensor contact with the Kilrathi ships Blair saw
that the destroyers were in motion. He allowed himself a grim smile. As he
hoped, they were spreading out to throw up a detection net . . . but they
were on the wrong side of the jump point to block Victory now.
Bridge, TCS Victory Ariel System
"Last of the Hellcats is aboard now, sir," Rollins reported from his
post at Communications. "And the first Longbows just checked in, looking for
clearance. Looks like it's going down smooth."
"Let's hope it stays that way," Eisen growled. "Helm? What's our
status?"
"ETA is fifteen minutes. sir, the helmsman reported.
"Blair's cutting it fine," Rollins muttered. "Hope he knows what he's
doing out there."
"A little less chatter, Lieutenant, if you please," the captain said.
"Navigation, begin plotting for jump. Mr. Rollins, make it СJump Stations,'
if you Ч "
"Sir!" The Sensor Officer broke in. "Captain, the jump point . . . it's
not there!"
"What?" Rollins spoke before he could stop himself. "It ain't there?
What do you mean, it ain't there?"
"Lieutenant!" Eisen snapped. "Explanations, people. I need explanations
. . ."
"It's like the cats just managed to . . . to dose off the jump point,
sir," the Sensor Officer said. "I don't know how. But it isn't out there any
more."
"And without it, we're stuck," someone else said aloud.
Rollins looked at Eisen. The man's face was darkly impassive, but he
could see the expression in the captain's eyes. However the Kilrathi had
done it, there was one thing certain. Victory was trapped
Thunderbolt 300 Ariel System
"We haven't been able to determine exactly what's going on, Colonel,
but it appears that the Kilrathi have somehow managed to close off the jump
point to Caliban."
"How the hell can they do that? It ain't poss Ч "
"Clear the channel, Maniac!" Blair snapped. He understood how Marshall
felt, but they couldn't afford to waste precious time in useless hysterics.
"Sorry, Captain. Continue the message."
"We're going to have to try for another jump point instead," Eisen went
on as if there hadn't been an interruption. "The Delius jump point isn't far
. . . if it's still out there. We're downloading the coordinates to you now.
Reform your squadron and keep their light stuff off our backs until we get
there, And keep your fingers crossed that this door isn't closed, too."
"Understood, Captain," Blair said. He paused. "And if there's a picket
at the other jump point, sir? I doubt we can out fox them a second time
around . . ."
"Just pray we get lucky, Colonel," Eisen said grimly. "Because luck's
about the only thing that'll bail us out at this point."
"Roger that," Blair responded. "Okay, Gold Squadron, you heard the man.
Form on me and keep a sharp eye on your sensors. By this time they've
probably got more than Darket out there, so be ready."
"If they can close down one jump point, they can close Сem all," Maniac
said, still sounding ragged. "How the hell are we supposed to fight them if
they can do that?"
"Stay frosty, Maniac," Blair told him. "Same for the rest of you.
Whatever the cats are doing, we can't let it put us off our stride now. The
ship's counting on us."
He adjusted his course to match the vectors Victory's computers fed to
the fighters and adjusted the sensitivity on his scanners. If the Kilrathi
really could shut down a jump point at will, the war was as good as over . .
. but Blair refused to allow himself to dwell on the bitter thought. For
now, all that mattered was survival.
Command Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Ariel System
"They are moving again, Lord Prince." Melek gave a deep, formal bow as
he approached the throne on its raised dais. "The destroyer Irrkham has them
at the very edge of his sensor range. Their vector indicates they are
probably trying for the Delius jump point. It is the closest to their
present location."
Thrakhath studied Melek without speaking, and the retainer grew
uncomfortable under his lingering stare. Finally the Prince spoke. "The Mask
has performed its function, then?" he asked.
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek replied. "The Galiban jump point does not
register on any sensors. The Terrans must have believed we simply cut it
down, like helpless prey."
"The apes should have remained in the trees of their homeworld, and
never challenged warriors of the stars," Thrakhath said, showing his fangs.
"They are fools."
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek agreed quietly. Inwardly he wasn't so sure.
It was true that the Terrans still lagged behind the Empire in cloaking
technology, but they were catching up fast. They would realize, soon enough,
that the Kilrathi couldn't actually close down a jump point, but only
obscure it with a particularly powerful cloaking field Ч and even then only
where the dust and gas of a nebula made it possible for the cloak to operate
effectively over the large distances needed to cover the jump point.
But Thrakhath remained utterly contemptuous of the Terrans. It was an
attitude that worried Melek more and more as the climax of the campaign
approached. So far events had unfolded much as the Prince planned, excluding
the continued interference of the Victory after several attempts to cripple
the carrier had failed. No doubt the unexpected Kilrathi ability to make
jump points seem to vanish would, as Thrakhath intended, cause the humans to
choose a different target system when they deployed their new weapon,
regardless of the knowledge concerning their adversaries. But, sooner or
later, Thrakhath's disdain for the Terrans might well lead him to
underestimate them at a critical moment, and that could have disastrous
consequences.
Melek began to wish he had never accepted the post as Thrakhath's
chee'dyachee. As senior vassal and retainer to the Crown Prince, he wielded
great power and commanded much influence . . . and was perfectly placed to
watch the Imperial family in the interests of his own Clan. But it was a
precarious perch at best, given the Prince's temper, and sometimes it was
difficult to restrain himself from voicing the doubts he could not put
aside.
He became aware that the Crown Prince was still eyeing him with an
almost predatory look.
"You seem . . . distracted, Melek," Thrakhath said. "Is there some
problem?"
"No, Lord Prince," he replied. "No problem. I was merely . . . awaiting
your instructions now that the Terrans have set their new course.
"The plan remains as I outlined it earlier. Now that they have been
frightened by our power over the jump points, we will allow them to escape
through the Delius point. Order the ships there to drop the Mask and proceed
toward the Caliban jump point, as if to reinforce our squadron there after
the Terran attack. If they can punish the carrier along the way, they may do
so, but remember that the vessel must escape, both to carry word of our new
weapon to their leaders and to preserve . . . our other asset. Understood?"
"Yes, Lord Prince." Melek bowed again and withdrew, thankful the
audience was over.
Thunderbolt 300 Ariel System
"We've got company, Colonel. Looks like a destroyer, with at least two
fighters on escort. Feeding you the coordinates now . . ."
The information scrolled across Blair's monitor before Rollins finished
speaking. The Kilrathi ship was ahead and to port of Victory, and from its
heading was returning from the Delius jump point. The cats were either
reinforcing their first squadron or throwing out a net to intercept the
Terrans.
In either case, the destroyer could be trouble. There were two fighters
flying close by, Vaktoth by the look of their sensor signatures. They could
complicate any attempt to deal with the bigger ship.
Blair wished he still had some of the Longbows available, but Gold
Squadron was the only fighter force that had not landed on the flight deck
and started securing for jump. It was up to the six Thunderbolts to do what
they could to protect the carrier.
"Gold Squadron, this is Leader," Blair said. "Tally-ho!" It was the
age-old pilot's cry that the enemy was in sight, dating back to the days
before spaceflight. "Follow me in, people!"
He kicked in his afterburners and steered the fighter toward the
Kilrathi targets, the rest of the squadron trailing him. Blair checked his
weapons status and armed blasters and heat-seeking missiles. He and Cobra
had engaged in the least amount of fighting at the first jump point, their
ships with the least damage and the most reloads available. That made them
the best candidates for taking on the destroyer. But it was essential that
they get some reliable protection from the enemy fighters.
"Hobbes, Vagabond, you two keep those Vaktoth off our backs," he
ordered. "The rest of us are hunting the big cat this time. Understood?"
"We are complying," Hobbes said calmly.
"Just let me at Сem," Maniac said. He sounded a little less nervous
now, as if the prospect of a stand-up fight helped steady him after the
shock of having the jump point vanish. Blair hoped he would keep his head.
"Lead the way, Colonel," Cobra added a moment later. She sounded
professional, but a little grim.
He reduced his speed and allowed Hobbes and Vagabond to accelerate past
the rest of the squadron, diving in toward the enemy formation. Hobbes
screamed a Kilrathi challenge as the two fighters closed with their opposite
numbers, and that seemed to unnerve the Vaktoth pilots. Both enemy fighters
circled away, evading rather than offering battle Ч unusual for the
Kilrathi. Perhaps these were inexperienced flyers, Blair told himself. But
was it significant that they were running from Hobbes again . . . ?
He forced the thought from his mind and concentrated instead on the
destroyer. It loomed ahead, all menacing points and angles, an asymmetrical,
four-pronged dagger aimed at Victory.
"Let's rock!" Maniac called, accelerating suddenly to full speed and
diving toward the destroyer, all guns firing wildly. Flash was right behind
him. The destroyer's main batteries opened up, driving bolt after bolt of
raw energy at the fast-moving Terran ships. Somehow neither Terran fighter
was hit, but their blasters battered the destroyer's shields. There was a
ripple of explosions as Flash dumped three missiles in quick succession.
None penetrated the shields, but Blair's scanners showed the enemy defenses
weakening.
Blair killed his momentum, bringing the fighter practically to a dead
stop. It was a risky move so close to a capital ship, but with Maniac and
Flash doing such a good job of drawing the enemy's attention it was too good
a chance to miss. Now the destroyer was lumbering toward him, a nice, steady
target. If he could just get in enough good shots at the weakened section of
the shielding . . .
He opened fire with his blasters, squeezing off shot after shot until
his power reserves were exhausted and the guns shut down until their
generators could recycle and bring them back up to full power. The Kilrathi
shields still held. It was only then that he realized that Cobra had
emulated his move. Her ship was a bare thirty meters off his wing, and now
her blasters focused on the same narrow target area as Blair.
The enemy ship's shields failed, and Blair gave a wolfish grin. His
blasters came back on-line, and he started firing again. This time the shots
were taking off armor, chipping away ever closer to the vulnerable hull of
the destroyer. The enemy captain must have recognized his danger by this
time, but Maniac and Flash were still closer, still weaving in and out and
raking the big ship with sustained if less concentrated fire. Automatic
shipboard defense systems would naturally try to track and destroy the
nearer threats first, and crewed guns took time to realign on new targets .
. .
Blair's blasters ran down a second time, and he switched to a salvo of
missiles. Cobra launched at almost the same moment. "Let's get moving,
Lieutenant," Blair said, starting up his engines again. He was just
beginning to accelerate to full speed when a blast from one of the
destroyers main guns caught his port-side shield, knocking it down and
ripping into the wing armor in one blow. Then he was clear of the danger and
turned quickly to place some distance between his Thunderbolt and the
Kilrathi ship.
The missiles began to detonate, tearing through the last of the armor
and deep into the bowels of the capital ship. It almost seemed to shudder
before it finally tore itself apart.
"Ye-es!" That was Maniac, exultant. "Scratch one great big kitty!"
"Good shooting, Colonel," Cobra added.
"Good shooting, all," Blair corrected. "That one was a team effort. Now
let's see if Hobbes and Vagabond need any help cleaning up their little
mess.
One of the Vaktoth was running, the other was heavily engaged with
Vagabond's Thunderbolt. By the time the rest of Gold Squadron was in range,
Hobbes had already come to the aid of his wingman and sent the heavy fighter
off to join the shattered destroyer.
"What's your status, people?" Blair asked, calling up his own combat
data. He couldn't afford to take another hit on his port side, and he was
down to only a single missile. Another serious fight would probably be too
much for his battered Thunderbolt to handle.
"Damage is minimal, Colonel," Cobra reported. "But I'm out of missiles,
and my fuel reserves aren't looking good."
"I, too, am out of missiles," Hobbes said. "And my forward armor is
badly damaged."
The others made similar reports, with damage ranging from Cobra's very
minor hits up to Flash, who had suffered serious damage in the fight with
the destroyer and was now running with damaged engines and an intermittent
fault in his sensors. Blair frowned as he considered the situation. The
squadron couldn't do a whole lot more at this point. But they had no idea
what else the Kilrathi might throw at them.
"Jump point is on our screens," Rollins reported suddenly. "Looks like
we got lucky this time!"
"What about enemy activity?" Blair asked, still frowning. "Anything on
your sensors?"
"Looks like another cat destroyer out there, Colonel but at extreme
sensor range, Rollins reported after a moments pause. "From his current
vector, it doesn't look like he'll be in any position to interfere with us.
Captain says to bring your birds back to the nest, sir You're clear to land
. . . and . . . you guys sure did a good job holding off those
sons-of-bitches."
"Thank God for small favors," Blair muttered. "All right Gold Squadron.
Let's pack it in. And pray we don't get any new surprises before we hit the
jump point."
Flight Deck, TCS Victory Ariel System
Blair climbed slowly from his cockpit, tired and stiff after the long
strain of flying. He hadn't realized his personal toll from the operation
until now. With the mission over, all he wanted to do was take a long
shower, then catch a few hundred hours of sack time.
Unfortunately, that wasn't how it worked. Before seeing his bunk again,
Blair knew there was a load of work to finish first.
ALL HANDS, ALL HANDS, JUMP STATIONS. REPEAT, JUMP STATIONS.
INTERSTELLAR TRANSIT IN THREE MINUTES. The computer announcement blared over
the ship's tannoy, and all around Blair techs hastened to get ready for the
jump, like so many ants stirred up by a threat to their hill.
"You sure did bang the old girl up this time, skipper," Rachel Coriolis
said from behind him. He turned to see her pointing at the twisted armor and
scorched hull plating where the destroyer's gun had pierced his shields.
"Better get clear, sir, before the jump."
He nodded, then turned toward the far end of the hangar. Safety
precautions called for the hangar deck to be cleared prior to any jump, and
already the huge chamber was nearly empty of crewmen. Blair strode rapidly
across the deck with Rachel, a few stragglers close behind
The doors snapped open to reveal a tense scene in the corridor beside
the elevator. A number of pilots and technicians were present, but the main
focus was on Cobra and Hobbes, standing face to face in the middle of the
passageway. Lieutenant Buckley had an angry expression on her face, and her
hands were flexing as if she, like the Kilrathi, had claws that could tear
at her enemies' throats. In contrast, Ralgha nar Hhallas was calm,
impassive, a stoic figure facing Cobra's venom.
"Why didn't you warn us that your kind could close jump points?" she
demanded, her voice low and menacing.
"I was not aware that they could," Ralgha told her. "This is obviously
a recently developed advancement to Kilrathi technology. And a very serious
threat. The ability to close down a jump point will give the Empire a great
advantage, I fear."
"Come off it, you fur-faced son-of-a-bitch," Cobra snarled. "You mean
to tell us you didn't know anything about this? I don't believe you!"
"I have been in Confederation service for over a decade, Lieutenant,"
the Kilrathi told her, drawing himself up with an air of quiet dignity.
"Much has changed during that time, on both sides of the border. Perhaps
this represents a breakthrough in jump theory."
"More likely in cloaking technology," Rachel said, stepping between
them. "I don't think the Kilrathi can actually shut down a jump point at
all."
"Hey, I wasn't hallucinating out there," Cobra said, turning her angry
glare on the technician. "We all saw the first jump point drop right off our
screens."
"Look, I've been studying cloaks," Rachel said. "The new Excaliburs are
supposed to mount them. In theory a big enough generator could project a
cloak that could mask out something as large as a jump point. But it would
only work in a nebula, and it would be damned hard to maintain even then.
That's what we were facing. I'd bet hard credits on it.
"Well, whether they can kill it or just hide it, the cats can mess up
our jump points," Cobra said, a little less wild but still clearly angry.
She stepped past Rachel and jabbed a finger at Hobbes. "And you claim you
had no clue they could pull that?"
"No more than you, Lieutenant," Ralgha told her.
"You're a liar."
Blair stepped forward, thrusting himself between the two pilots. "That
will be enough, Lieutenant," he said harshly. "Colonel Ralgha's loyalty is
not to be questioned in this way again. Is that understood?"
"But. . ."
"I will not have a junior officer making wild accusations about one of
her seniors. If you gather concrete evidence to back up your claims, then
you see me, in private, through proper channels. Otherwise, you keep your
mouth shut!"
"Yes, sir, she said at last.
"JUMP SEQUENCE ENGAGED. ONE MINUTE TO JUMP," the loudspeaker announced.
The elevator doors opened, and Cobra pushed through the semi-circle of
onlookers into the car. Neither Blair nor Hobbes chose to follow her.
Bridge, TCS Victory Ariel System
"And ten seconds . . . nine . . . eight . . ."
Eisen was determined not to betray his mounting tension as the computer
ticked off the final seconds of the countdown to jump. What if the Kilrathi
really could shut down a jump point? If they cut this one now, Victory would
be trapped and totally vulnerable to the destroyers that were beginning to
close in.
Or . . . what would happen to a ship initiating a jump sequence if the
jump point failed? Would it remain in place . . . or end up trapped in
hyperspace, unable to complete the transition to its destination?
"Three . . . two . . . and one . . . initiating transit. . . now."
He felt the familiar gut-twisting sensation of transit, and despite the
nausea, muscle spasms, and the wrenching disorientation of the jump, Eisen
was relieved. At least Victory had escaped the cats, whatever happened next
. . .
The jump was over in an instant. Eisen had to blink and shake his head
a time or two to clear the fog in his brain, but it didn't take long to
regain control over his body, though every nerve was still protesting over
the unnatural act of being flung across an unimaginable distance through a
realm no human was ever supposed to enter.
"Report," he croaked.
Lieutenant Commander Lisa Morgan, Victory's Navigator, managed to sound
alert. "Aye, aye, sir," she said, her fingers moving over her controls to
call up a computer program that would analyze their surroundings and confirm
that they had emerged on target. After a moment she went on. "Stellar type
and data match within 99.4 percent. No planets registering. Asteroid belts .
. . it checks, Captain. Delius System . . . or its twin."
Eisen nodded slowly. "Very good. Commander Morgan, set course to Delius
Station. Mr. Rollins, raise the local defense forces and let them know we're
here. Secure from Jump Stations and resume in-system operations." He paused.
"I want the ship combat-ready as soon as possible. After that, I want a full
after-action analysis by all combat departments. We have to determine what
the hell went on back there, before the cats pull it on us again."
His officers responded promptly, and Eisen felt a glow of pride. They'd
been close to the breaking point, but somehow they'd kept on going.
In the end, that was the only thing that counted.
Command Hall, KIS Hvar'kann Ariel System
"The Terrans have withdrawn, then, Melek?" Thrakhath was lounging on
his throne, feeling satisfied. A pair of destroyers had been lost along with
a few fighters, and he intended to see to it that whoever was responsible
for the losses paid the supreme penalty. But overall, everything went
exactly as planned. The apes had been given a warning they would not soon
forget. It would make them cautious for a time, and even if they realized
that the Empire's ability to mask jump points was limited to nebulas they
would surely shun this system, so the base where the Imperial Fleet would
gather for Thrakhath's grand stroke would remain secure.
Now it was time to think of the next stage in the plan.
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek said. "They have withdrawn into the Delius
System. Of course, there is no way of telling how long they will remain . .
."
"Then we must act quickly, before they move on," Thrakhath told him,
pounding the arm of his throne to emphasize the point. "Is it certain that
the one called Blair is still assigned to the carrier?"
"Yes, Lord Prince," Melek acknowledged. "We monitored his voice on the
comm channels during the fight, a perfect match to our files. He is the wing
commander. According to recent intelligence, the renegade serves as his
deputy."
"Excellent," Thrakhath said, showing his fangs for an instant. "Perhaps
it is best that the human escaped our earlier attacks. We have the perfect
weapon to use against him, and the results will leave these apes demoralized
just when our blow is about to fall."
"You think, then, that the challenge will work, on a human? Their sense
of honor is not the same as ours Lord Prince." Melek bowed low, to show that
he did not mean to doubt his Lord's judgment.
"Oh, this challenge will work, I think," Thrakhath said quietly. "They
do not have honor, Melek, but they do have pride . . . and anger. We will
goad this ape into a foolish gesture, and at the same time . . ."
"The Trigger," Melek said.
"The Trigger. And we will have our claws at their throats once and for
all." Thrakhath straightened. Pass the orders, Melek. Assemble the
designated task force and be ready to jump within a cycle."
"Yes, Lord Prince." Melek withdrew, bowing again.
Crown Prince Thrakhath contemplated the stars that blazed through the
dome above his dais. The stars that would soon belong entirely to the
Empire.
Wing Commander's Office, TCS Victory Delius System
"Reporting as ordered, sir."
"Come in, Lieutenant," Blair said, gesturing to the chair in front of
his desk. "Sit down."
Flint settled into the seat, her eyes holding a look somewhere between
hope and wariness. "Thank you, sir," she said. "Ah . . . those were some
good moves you guys put on yesterday, Colonel. Although I couldn't really
tell everything that was going on . . . from Flight Control."
He smiled. "You don't need to drop hints, Lieutenant. I know it's been
difficult for you, sitting on the sidelines."
"It's just . . . Look, sir, it just isn't the same, flying a console
aboard ship. I belong in the cockpit. That's all there is to it. If you
can't put me there, then transfer me to a unit where I can get a fresh
start."
"You're pretty blunt, Lieutenant," he said. "Let me be the same. If I
don't put you back on the flight roster here, it'll be because I have a
problem with you flying. So you can be damned sure my report in your file
would reflect my doubts. Don't think a transfer is going to get you back in
the cockpit just because I'm not your CO any longer."
Her look was bleak, bitter. "I lost it, back at Locanda. I admit it.
But I don t think that mistake should hang over me forever, Colonel.
Watching those bastards slip past us, knowing they were going to spread
their plague on my home that was more than I could handle. But it isn't
likely to come up again." She managed a crooked smile.
"The stakes are less . . . personal, now. Is that it?" He kept his own
tone serious.
"I guess so, sir," she said. "I hate to admit it. I mean, when I took
my oath it was to the Confederation, not to any one planet. But Locanda was
so much more real to me, when it went down. I could see it, in my mind: the
places, the people. It made a difference."
"If it didn't, you wouldn't be human," he said. Blair studied her for a
moment. She seemed too small, too fragile to be a combat pilot. "The problem
is, you made me a promise once before, and you didn't keep it. Do you want
to get back in that cockpit bad enough to follow through this time?"
"I can't prove that unless you give me the chance, Colonel," she said.
"When I'm out there with that bird strapped around me and a cat in my sights
. . . that's the only time I really feel alive."
Blair nodded sadly. He remembered Angel saying something like that
once, back on the Tiger's Claw. I knew . . . I know someone who felt the
same way. She lived to fight Сthe good fight,' as she called it."
"For me, it's the flying," Flint told him. "I love the purity . . .
nothing holding me back. Knowing I'm in complete control, for better or
worse."
"Yeah," Blair said, nodding again. "Yeah, only a pilot knows that
feeling."
"Well, Colonel, if you understand how I feel, then you have to know
what I'm going through now. I wasn't designed for cheerleading from the
sidelines, or playing traffic director in Flight Control. I'm requesting
reassignment to flight status." She paused. "Please. . ."
"I don't usually give third chances, Lieutenant," he said slowly "But
we could have used you out there yesterday. Next time we'll need you even
more. You're back on the roster, effective immediately, Flint."
"Thank you, sir. . ."
He held up a hand. "But if you screw up again . . . heaven help you.
Because I won t."
"Understood, Colonel." She stood up. "This time you won't regret it."
Flight Wing Rec Room, TCS Victory Delius System
A jagged, irregular chunk of rock eighteen kilometers across dominated
the view from the rec room. A few moving lights marked the passage of
shuttles and service pods back and forth between carrier and asteroid. In
the three hours since Victory matched orbits with Delius Station, a thorough
inspection of the ship's hull and external fittings had already been
completed, and the captain had authorized liberty for the off-duty watch.
There weren't as many takers as might be expected Ч Delius Station was
reputed to be one of the most boring stopovers in the sector Ч but there was
a definite easing of tensions on board at the realization that they really
were back in friendly territory at last.
Blair sat alone at a table, sipping his scotch and gazing at the
planetoid and the star field beyond. In one corner of the room, Vaquero was
softly strumming his old guitar, a quiet, mournful sound. Lieutenant Lopez
had been certified fit for flight duty by the ship's Medical Officer the day
before, and Blair restored him to the roster. But he still wondered if Lopez
was fully recovered from the battering he had taken in the first clash in
the nebula.
He heard Maniac Marshall call a greeting as he entered the rec room,
and half-turned in his chair to watch the major at the bar. Marshall was his
usual self, boisterous self-assured, wearing a broad smile as he took his
drink from Rostov and waved an airy greeting to Flint and Cobra, who were
sitting together at a nearby table.
To Blair's surprise, Maniac ambled to his table. "Colonel," he said,
giving him a nod.
"Major," Blair replied. He waited a moment before going on. "Something
I can do for you."
Maniac grew visibly uncomfortable, all his cockiness disappearing as he
stammered a response. "Er . . . fact is, I wanted to tell you . . . I wanted
to say . . . Maverick, that was a damned impressive show back at Ariel. The
way you faked that first bunch out of position . . . and the way you kept
your cool after the cats pulled their little magic trick." He looked
embarrassed. "I know we don't always operate on the same frequency. . . but
I thought I should give credit where it's due."
Blair raised an eyebrow. "Well. . ." He wasn't sure how to respond.
Maniac Marshall had never before made such an overture. "Thanks for the vote
of confidence. It was touch and go there for a while, though."
"Yeah," Marshall agreed. "Tell me about it. When they made that jump
point disappear . . . God, I almost lost it. I never thought I'd feel that
way, Maverick. Never.
"You kept your head pretty well, all things considered," Blair told
him. "We couldn't have nailed that destroyer without you and Flash."
"We could have taken her out by ourselves, if you and Cobra had let
us," Maniac said with a trace of his old spirit. "But . . . yeah, it was a
good score all the way around." He looked out the viewport and continued
with a sour note in his voice. "You think Chief Coriolis was right about the
Kilrathi using a cloak on the jump points, Maverick?"
"That's the official verdict," Blair said. "The analysis the captain
ordered turned up sensor traces consistent with the use of cloaking
generators. That's the report he ordered dispatched to Sector HQ."
"So we only have to worry about them pulling something like that in a
nebula, huh?" Marshall looked solemn. "I guess that's good news, at least."
"It also means we won't be stuck, next time out," Blair said. "It might
take longer, but we could use a cloaked jump point providing we already had
it thoroughly plotted on our charts."
"Does that mean we're going back? To finish the mission? Or with this
weapon everybody's talking about?"
"That'll be up to the brass," Blair told him. "But I doubt it. If we're
going to use an experimental weapon under difficult conditions, why borrow
even more trouble? Of course, I'm not an admiral. Maybe they could find a
good reason, but it seems like a silly risk to me."
"Hope you're right," Maniac said. He studied the view outside in
silence for a long moment. "Nebulas and asteroid belts . . . I'll be glad to